Investing In My Crippled Wife Every Return Makes Me Stronger Chapter 343

[ … words ]

Once they finished dinner, two of them headed back outside.

Soren drove them to a magic ice rink on the other side of the academy district, a popular spot maintained year-round by ice-affinity enchantments and users. The rink was indoors, with a high glass ceiling that let in natural light and a temperature cool enough to keep the ice frozen but not comfortable for visitors.

Soren put Ethea into an enchanted sled designed for the rink, with smooth runners and a padded seat that kept her stable. He pushed her out onto the ice, and together they glided across the surface, weaving between other skaters and leaving faint trails behind them. Ethea held onto the sides of the sled, laughing as they picked up speed, and Soren grinned behind her. He used his new powers to the max, moving through the crowd with ease. Other skaters gave them room, some smiling at the sight of the couple enjoying themselves.

After they had their fill of the ice, they moved to another room where they could play with snow. They built a snowman, with Soren rolling the snow into balls and stacking them together, while Ethea used her mental power to assist him, like shaping the smaller details he couldn’t quite get right with his hands. She smoothed the surface, carved the eyes and smile, and even added a little scarf made of packed snow.

“…It looks cute, right?” Soren muttered as he stared at their masterpiece.

“Mm…” Ethea hummed in response. “But… Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Huh? What is?” Soren raised a brow. “Did we miss something? I am sure a snowman was supposed to look like this.”

“…He doesn’t have a partner.” Ethea glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. “We should make another one. So he won’t be lonely.”

Soren stared at her for a moment, then smiled. “Alright. Let’s make a snowwoman for him.”

So they built another one, side by side with the first. This time, Ethea made sure to add the ears, and Soren gave her a matching scarf. When they were done, two snow figures stood together in the middle of the room, holding hands.

“There,” Soren said. “Now they’re together.”

Ethea smiled. “Much better.”

“…We should take a picture.” Soren quickly pulled out his phone and handed it to one of the staff members. “Could you take a few pictures of us?”

The staff member nodded and snapped a few photos. Soren and Ethea posed beside their creations, Ethea in her wheelchair and Soren standing behind her, both of them smiling. They also took a few more with different positions and poses.

“Thanks,” Soren said, taking his phone back. He glanced at the photos and nodded, satisfied. “These turned out well.”

They stayed a little longer, enjoying the snow room before finally deciding it was time to leave. As for their next destination, it was a museum of living paintings, a magic gallery tucked away in the entertainment district of Ademary. They had to use a Teleportation Gate to get there, so it didn’t take long.

The paintings moved within frames, telling stories with and without words. Some showed landscapes that shifted with seasons; others depicted figures who waved at passersby or danced in endless loops.

However, the most impressive ones were the works of a famous Magic Artist from the Empire known as Rahim the Eternal. His creations could talk, answer questions, and even carry on brief conversations with visitors. They were like echoes, fragments of mana and paint that carried limited knowledge and impressions of the people they depicted.

One showed a merchant who would haggle with anyone who approached, offering imaginary goods at imaginary prices. Another depicted a young woman who would sing a soft melody if asked, her voice fading into silence when the song ended. The most striking was a portrait of an old soldier who would tell stories of battles long past, his eyes distant and his voice heavy with memory.

“According to Sir Rahim’s interview,” Soren muttered as he finished his research online. “This soldier was a veteran of five wars, two of which were among humans. He survived all of them. But according to Sir Rahim, the man never called himself a hero. He called himself a murderer and nothing more, and asked him to paint him as such.”

Ethea looked back at the painting. The soldier’s expression held complex emotions: regret, guilt, grief, and even a trace of happiness. “He must have suffered more emotionally than physically.”

“…Right.” Soren nodded. “And Sir Rahim said it was one of the hardest paintings he ever created. The man sought no glory; he only wanted people to understand the true cost of war.”

“…War,” Ethea muttered and fell silent, her expression unreadable.

“…Ethea? Is something wrong?” Soren asked anxiously as she continued staring blankly.

“…No. It’s nothing.” She shook her head and turned away. “Just… reminded me of something.”

Soren didn’t press. He simply nodded and placed a hand on the back of her wheelchair. “Let’s keep moving.”

They continued through the gallery, but Ethea became quieter after that. Soren wanted to ask what troubled her, but decided to wait until she was ready to talk about it herself. Besides, he might be just overthinking again. Perhaps she didn’t like wars, and the painting had stirred unpleasant thoughts.

Fortunately, she recovered her spirits just before the final exhibit.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“No, it’s alright.” Soren shook his head. “Anyway, are you ready to move to our next destination?”

“Huh? Already?”

“What do you mean, already. It’s already evening, and if we depart now, we’ll arrive there before the sunset.” Soren explained. “That will be our last stop. And… There’s something important I want to tell you there.”

“!” Ethea’s heart skipped a beat. She looked at him, searching his expression, but he had already turned away, guiding her wheelchair toward the exit.

’…Something important?’

A thousand possibilities ran through her mind. But deep down, she already had a guess. And the thought of it made her heart beat faster.

’…I can’t wait to hear it.’