Chapter 950: But I AM Your Wife!

One hour later, they were back on their horse, riding slowly down the winding path toward the massive walls now visible in the distance. The fortifications of the Holyfield mines loomed through the trees, grey stone against grey sky, growing larger with every step.

Cassius held the reins while Isabelle sat before him, nestled comfortably against his chest. Her dress was back in place, though slightly rumpled.

As Cassius looked down, admiring the gentle jiggle of her bust with every step of the horse, his eyes caught a smear of thick, dried white liquid right across the curve of her upper chest.

"Ah, Isabelle." Cassius noted, pointing down. "You missed a spot. Looks like you spilled some white paint on your chest."

"Hm?" Isabelle blinked, looking down. "Oh, I thought I wiped everything off."

But then her eyes furrowed like something wasn’t right. She reached down, dabbing her finger into the white smear.

She brought it to her nose, took a delicate sniff, and her eyes lit up with playful recognition.

Without a hint of hesitation, she popped her finger into her mouth, licking it completely clean with a soft, satisfied hum.

"What the hell, Isabelle?!" Cassius’s jaw dropped. "I told you to clean it, not eat it! If you’re that hungry, I have three more sandwiches in the spatial ring!"

Isabelle turned her head, looking up at him with a sultry, half-lidded gaze, her tongue darting out to lick a stray drop from her lip.

"It isn’t paint, Young Master." She purred softly. "It’s the...cream you painted me with right before we packed up."

Cassius froze. The memory of spraying his seed across her chest just thirty minutes ago rushed back with violent clarity.

Watching her casually savor his essence in broad daylight, right on horseback, sent a sudden, searing jolt of heat straight to his loins. His shaft twitched violently against her lower back.

Isabelle felt it instantly, letting out a soft, delighted giggle as she pressed her hips back against him.

"My, My, Young Master...are we turning around for round two?"

Cassius ground his teeth, forcibly dragging his gaze away from her chest and staring straight ahead at the approaching fortress gates.

"Don’t test me, woman." Cassius muttered, his voice raspy as he tightened his grip on the reins.

"If I start again now, we won’t reach the gates until midnight. Behave yourself."

Isabelle giggled and obediently settled back against him. But even as she did, a thoughtful crease appeared between her brows.

Something had been tugging at the back of her mind, a loose thread she couldn’t quite leave alone.

"Young Master?" She began, her voice shifting from playful to genuinely curious. "I’ve been meaning to ask you something."

"Mm?"

"What exactly is the identity you’re going under for this mission?" She tilted her head, confusion bleeding into every syllable.

"When I asked Nala about it, she told me you were going to pose as a merchant. But then I spoke with Vivi, and she seemed quite certain you’d be presenting yourself as some sort of mana researcher. And Aisha..."

She threw her hands up in exasperation.

"Aisha told me you were going to play a mage who once belonged to a noble family but was cast out, only to grow powerful on his own."

Her eyes grew wider and more bewildered with each word, her brow furrowing deeper.

"And if that wasn’t enough, Skadi told me you were going to be some sort of gigolo who goes around enchanting noble women, playing with their hearts before being chased out of town by their absolutely furious husbands."

She twisted around to face him fully, her expression a portrait of utter bewilderment.

"So which identity are you actually taking right now?"

Cassius met her gaze. And then, with the unshakeable confidence of a man who had thoroughly thought this through, he smiled.

"All of them."

"A-All of them?"

"All of them." He confirmed with a satisfied nod before going on to say, "Honestly, Isabelle, I was so excited for this mission—the roleplay, the intrigue, the chance to weave an entirely new persona out of thin air—that I simply couldn’t choose just one."

"So I decided...why limit myself?"

He clicked his tongue, urging the horse forward as the fortress walls grew closer.

"That’s why I’m going to be a Master Mage-Merchant-Gigolo-Researcher all at once."

"A multi-talented man of many trades!"

He paused, and for the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features.

"Do you think I’m doing too much?" He glanced down at her, brow furrowing. "Am I going to get caught for adding too much to my plate?"

But Isabelle was already shaking her head, a warm and reassuring smile spreading across her lips.

"Young Master, even without the act, you’re already a multi-talented man who can literally do anything in this world. The only way anyone would doubt you is if you were incompetent at even one of those roles."

"...But you?"

She reached up, her fingers brushing his cheek with infinite tenderness.

"You do everything so perfectly that there’s no need to hesitate at all, so you can be whoever you want to be!"

Cassius felt a knot of worry ease in his chest. He could always count on Isabelle to believe in him, even when he wasn’t sure he believed in himself.

But then another thought struck him, and his expression grew serious.

"And what about you, Isabelle? You have a role to maintain as well."

He fixed her with a stern gaze as he said,

"You need to act like my wife."

"What do mean act?! I am your wife, Young Master!"

Isabelle turned around so fast she nearly unbalanced them both.

"I may put a maid’s outfit on every single morning, and I may serve you tea and draw your baths and organize your schedule, but at the end of the day—at the end of everything—I am still your wife!"

Something cracked in her expression. The fire in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a soft, pitiful vulnerability that tugged at Cassius’s heart.

"Am I not? Am I...am I not your wife?"

Cassius’s heart gave a useless lurch.

"Of course you are, Isabelle!" He said quickly, firmly. "From the beginning all the way to the end of my life, you will be my wife."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she beamed, delighted.

But then his brow furrowed, and his voice turned strict.

"The problem, though, is that even though you’re my wife, you always call me ’Young Master,’ wherever we go. And that, I just can’t allow. Not for this mission. It’ll completely ruin our roles."

Isabelle’s delight dimmed to a thoughtful look; she understood where he was going before he’d even finished.

Cassius pressed on, genuine curiosity entering his voice.

"Why do you call me that all the time, anyway? It made sense at the very beginning—you started as my maid, after all. But it’s been so long now, and you still use that title constantly."

"It creates endless confusion. People in public assume you’re merely my servant, and then they’re shocked to learn you’re actually my wife."

He shook his head, the memories of countless awkward social encounters flickering behind his eyes.

Isabelle drew herself up, a defensive spark igniting in her gaze.

"But Vivi and Portia and the other maids call you Young Master all the time as well!"

"Those are completely different cases." Cassius countered without missing a beat. "Vivi calls me that term, yes, but she says it in such a cute manner that it’s practically a nickname."

"Portia and the others use it in formal settings, but when we’re intimate or in private, they call me ’darling,’ ’husband,’ ’my love,’ and so many other things."

His eyes narrowed. "But you, on the other hand—you never refer to me as anything else!"

"Always ’Young Master,’ and always with such unwavering obedience that I seem less like your husband and more like your liege lord. Why is that?"

Isabelle fell silent, her brow furrowing in genuine thought. Cassius watched her closely, waiting to see what explanation she would offer.

Finally, she looked up at him with an expression of pure innocence and said.

"I don’t know, Young Master."

"...What?"

She nodded earnestly. "I truly don’t know. It just feels feels completely right, like the words belong in my mouth. Thinking about calling you anything else..."

She wrinkled her nose slightly.

"It feels strange. Uncomfortable. And just plain wrong."

Cassius stared at her, momentarily at a loss for words. It seemed that being his maid and servant had become so deeply embedded in her heart that even as his wife, any other form of address felt foreign to her. It was simply part of who she was.

But he couldn’t let it slide. Not for this mission.

"No." He said firmly. "That won’t work. Back at the mansion, perhaps I could let it go. But here, on this mission, you need to address me the way any wife would address her husband. My name, or some other term of term."

Isabelle jolted in the saddle as if he’d poked her with a needle. "But Young Master, that’s—"

"You have to, Isabelle." Cassius’s voice was insistent now, brooking no argument. "If you keep calling me Young Master, everyone will grow suspicious. Our cover will be blown wide open."

He leaned closer, his gaze intense.

"Now come on. Say something. Call me by my name. Say ’darling,’ ’my love,’ or some other cute nickname. Cassie, perhaps. Or whatever you can come up with."

Hearing this, Isabelle was utterly flustered.

All the time she’d spent with Cassius, she’d always referred to him by that same title. Sometimes, in conversation with others, she’d say my husband.

But other than that, it was always the same.

So, to switch to something entirely new felt like an impossible task.

"Come on, it’s just a name." Cassius teased, leaning close to watch her struggle. "It can’t be that hard."

For Isabelle, it genuinely was. Yet, seeing how earnestly Cassius was looking at her, she swallowed her overwhelming embarrassment, took a deep breath, and turned her glowing face away.

"C-Caa...Cassius...?" She stammered out, her voice a tiny, squeaking whisper. "M-My...love...?"

"FINALLY! The heavens have blessed my ears!" Cassius let out a dramatic, triumphant gasp. "After so long, my wife actually spoke my name!"

Then he looked at her with a pained, bemused gaze as he asked,

"And why exactly are you so flustered about it?"

He studied her face—so red, so flustered she looked almost ready to sob.

"Even when I was fucking you so hard a minute ago, you weren’t this flustered. Instead, you were the one teasing me the entire time, asking me to go harder."

"...And now?"

His gaze swept over her tomato-red face, his expression growing more incredulous by the second.

"Now you look like you’re about to spontaneously combust just from saying my name. How does that make any sense!"

Isabelle turned away, unable to meet his eyes.

"You...You don’t understand, Young Master."

She murmured, her voice small and mortified.

"These are...These are just matters of women! You just wouldn’t understand!"

Cassius found himself utterly baffled—and utterly charmed.

The fact that she struggled so intensely just to say her own husband’s name was, in its own strange way, adorable.