’Soren... He is hiding something.’

Ethea squinted her eyes.

Perhaps he was altering her meals with some kind of rare ingredient, or the food itself possessed an innate, restorative property. The latter felt far more likely.

As the thoughts swirled, another detail she had quietly filed away began to surface. It was a bizarre phenomenon she had noticed around the day when they changed their surname, one she had been thinking about but couldn’t find the time to bring up.

’...It’s certainly strange.’

Whenever she was near Soren, the agonizing pressure in her body would recede. The constant, burning ache in her mana circuits would dull just enough for her to speak without straining, her thoughts would clear, and she could move her head and fingers with a fluid ease that usually eluded her.

When all of these anomalies were lined up together, the conclusion became inescapable.

Everything pointed directly to Soren.

’But how?’

Her brain, always fond of a good mystery, immediately went to work breaking down the puzzle.

Was Soren actively channeling a hidden technique or using a specialized healing skill?

That theory fell apart instantly. Earlier, inside the intensive care unit, the exact same soothing effect had washed over her the moment she approached the room. Yet Soren was completely unconscious, locked in a deep coma, and entirely incapable of actively manipulating mana.

Then what was the catalyst?

She silently began to piece together a few hypotheses. It could be a passive trait, a rare biological aura that naturally radiated from his body to soothe those around him. Or perhaps it was a matter of extreme mana compatibility, where his presence alone acted as a stabilizing anchor for her collapsing circuits. She even considered the possibility of a bound artifact, a sentient relic hidden away that acted on its own to protect his spouse.

Yet, each explanation hit a dead end. A passive aura or an artifact would surely leave a lingering residue or trigger the sensitive security wards of the hospital, but Seria had been absolute: there were zero traces of external energy in her system.

The pieces were all there, staring her in the face, but they refused to fit together. Every logical path led straight into a wall, leaving her with a truth she could grasp, but a method she couldn’t begin to understand.

The endless loop of theories finally ground to a halt as the heavy scent of savory broth and roasted vegetables pulled her back to reality.

Clara brought the wheelchair to a smooth stop beside a vacant table near the corner of the brightly lit hospital cafeteria. Seria walked over a moment later, carrying a tray loaded with light, nutritious dishes suitable for an evening meal.

"Here we go," Seria said, setting the tray down in the center of the table with a cheerful click. "The kitchen staff here actually prepares excellent meals for the faculty and guests. Please, eat up."

The sudden change in environment forced Ethea to push her questions to the back of her mind. She looked down at the steaming food before her, realizing how much energy the long day had truly drained from her. The mystery of Soren’s abilities would have to wait. Right now, her body demanded fuel, and she needed to gather her strength for the days ahead.

"Alright, let’s dig in!"

As they ate, the initial silence gave way to a light, easy conversation. Seria shared a few amusing anecdotes about her life at the academy, successfully lifting the heavy atmosphere that had lingered since their visit to the intensive care unit.

Ethea found herself genuinely relaxing, the warm soup offering a different kind of comfort compared to the profound, systematic healing she experienced around Soren, but welcome all the same.

Within an hour, they finished dinner and had the administrative details fully sorted out.

Clara helped Ethea settle into the private room Seria had arranged, meticulously smoothing out the blankets and clothes.

"I’ll head back to the house now to pack your essentials and grab a few changes of clothes for the next few days," Clara said, giving Ethea’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Rest up, Miss Ethea. I’ll be back first thing in the morning."

"Thank you. Travel safely," Ethea replied softly, watching the older woman step out and close the door behind her.

The room fell into a quiet stillness, leaving only Ethea and Seria, who had stayed behind under the pretext of checking the room’s mana-stabilizing equipment. Seria stood near the window, her back turned as she casually adjusted a small device on the wall.

"The atmospheric mana in this wing is kept at an optimal level, so it shouldn’t irritate your circuits," Seria murmured. She dropped her hand and slowly turned around, leaning back against the windowsill.

A small, knowing smile played on the high-ranking healer’s lips as her sharp gaze locked onto Ethea.

"By the way... are you Ethea Morvain? The Ice Empress?"

The name hung in the air, carrying the weight of a legendary past that most people could only whisper about. It was a question that would have sent panic through anyone trying to hide their identity.

Yet, Ethea didn’t flinch. Her expression remained entirely placid, her gaze steady and cold as a frozen lake. She didn’t offer a dramatic gasp, nor did she look away.

Instead, she replied with absolute calmness. "No."

She stared at Seria for a moment before continuing.

"I am Ethea Everly. Soren Everly’s wife."

Seria stared back at her for a long moment, capturing every ounce of the silent, unyielding authority radiating from the woman in the wheelchair. The absolute lack of hesitation in Ethea’s voice spoke volumes. She wasn’t just denying a name; she was setting a clear, unbreakable boundary.

The tension stretched for a beat longer before Seria broke into a soft, appreciative chuckle. She gracefully accepted the answer, nodding in understanding.

"I see," Seria said, her smile turning completely relaxed as she played along seamlessly. "My apologies, then. I must have mistaken you for someone else. You simply bear a striking resemblance to a prominent figure I’ve heard so much about."

"It happens," Ethea replied smoothly, the subtle edge in her voice dissipating into polite indifference.

"Well, Mrs. Everly," Seria emphasized the name with a hint of professional respect, pushing herself off the windowsill. "I will leave you to your rest. If you need anything during the night, the staff is just outside. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Lady Seria."

As the door clicked shut, Ethea let out a quiet breath.

Her mind didn’t panic over the fact that a genius healer from the academy had recognized her. Instead, her thoughts instantly drifted back to the husband sleeping a few rooms away.

Seria knowing her past didn’t matter.

What mattered was the present, and the intricate web of secrets both she and Soren were quietly keeping from the rest of the world.

’That’s right.’

’I’m his wife...’

’I’m Mrs. Everly. Ethea Everly.’

She rolled her fingers over the smooth fabric of the blanket, a silent promise forming in her mind. Soren was protecting her in ways she couldn’t fathom, and now she had a secret of her own to guard. For the first time in years, the future felt like an unsolved mystery she actually wanted to see through.