[Marriage Certificate]
'...I'm really married now, huh?'
Soren muttered inwardly as he stared at the document in his hands.
Two names were visible on the parchment alongside the required thumbprints and signatures.
His eyes traced the words for the tenth time since leaving the courthouse.
Although he still found it hard to believe, considering whom he married, he decided to accept the reality at the end.
He folded the paper, tucked it into his pocket, and locked up at the house in front of him. Two stories, white walls, blue roof tiles. It was nothing special. Just a regular house in a regular neighborhood.
Well, this was going to be their house now.
'...Hmm.' Soren turned to his side.
There, his wife, Ethea, sat in her wheelchair, staring straight ahead.
Her face... yeah, he'd seen it a hundred times today and still couldn't get used to it. Pale skin, sharp features, long black hair that looked too perfect to be real. Like one of those dolls rich people collect. Beatiful, yet dead inside.
She hadn't said a word since they left the civil affairs bureau.
Note one.
'Here we go.' Soren took a deep breath.
"This is it," he said outwardly, forcing cheer into his voice. "Our new home."
"..." Ethea remained silent.
Shaking his head inwardly, he grabbed the handles of her wheelchair and pushed her toward the door. Inside he gav her the grand tour.
"Living room. Small, but still nice, right? We don't need much space anyway."
"..."
"Oh, this is the kitchen. I can cook. Do you like anything specific? Soup? Drink? Coffee?"
"..."
Soren kept talking.
The silence was uncomfortable as hell, but he endured it.
He then showed her the small backyard, the storage room, and other places.
By the time they reached the top of the stairs, his throat was dry, and his optimism was running on fumes.
Thankfully, they finally arrived in the bedroom.
He pushed the door open. Double bed, wardrobe, nightstand.
"And this is where we sleep," he said. Then, glancing at her pale face, "You tired? It's been a long day after all."
"..." Ethea stared at the bed while Soren waited for her answer.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Fifteen...
'Still not talking, huh.'
Soren chuckled before speaking.
"Alright, I'll take that as a yes."
He moved the wheelchair close to the edge of the bed and positioned himself carefully. He then leaned down, sliding one arm beneath her knees, the other behind her back.
The moment his hands made contact, cold slammed into him.
A bone-deep frost sank through his skin and wrapped around his core. His breath caught. The sensation spread fast, numbing his arms within seconds.
Then Ethea recoiled.
Her body locked up. Every muscle that could still respond pulled away from him with visceral rejection. Her breathing hitched, becoming shallow and sharp. For the first time since he'd met her, her eyes showed something real.
...Revulsion.
Soren froze mid-motion.
He stood there, bent over her, arms committed to the lift.
The cold continued to spread through his limbs, but it was nothing compared to the way she'd flinched from him. Like his touch was contamination. Like being held by him was worse than lying helpless in the chair.
'She can't even stand me touching her.'
The thought hit harder than the cold.
But he couldn't stop now, so he forced himself to move.
He adjusted his grip with excruciating care, trying not to hold too tight, trying not to make it worse.
He ignored the cold, her obvious discomfort, and laid her on the bed as gently and quickly as he could.
"...Done," he muttered, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with his already numb fingers.
He then sensed her gaze and looked at her lying there, still as a corpse, and something twisted in his chest.
'Is she... always this cold? Like, physically?'
He thought about what that must feel like, living in a body that felt frozen all the time. Probably miserably. Probably painful. Probably made you not want to talk to anyone either.
"You okay?" he asked, softer this time. "Need anything? Water? Extra blanket?"
Ethea's eyelashes flickered, her lips finally moving.
"...I... I need sleep."
She muttered in a chilling and low tone.
'!' Soren blinked in surprise. 'Did she... finally speak?'
But he pushed the shock aside and nodded.
"Alright, then get some rest. Goodnight."
He stood up, stretched, and walked to the other side of the bed. He was about to lie down when her voice came again.
"...Alone."
Soren froze, one knee on the mattress.
"...What do you mean?"
Ethea's ice-blue eyes remained fixed on him.
"You mean..." Soren guessed her meaning from her expression. "You don't want me to sleep with you?"
"...Yes."
Soren blinked again. Then he straightened up, turning to face her fully.
"But why? We're husband and wife now?"
"..."
"You signed the paper yourself today." His voice stayed calm, matter-of-fact. "Or... were you not being honest?"
Ethea looked away.
The silence stretched, making the atmosphere awkward.
Soren opened his mouth, then closed it.
The words sat on his tongue anyway, 'Or what, I'm not qualified to be the Ice Empress's husband? Is that it?', but he swallowed them down.
There was no point.
After all, she was once the revered Ice Empress, the jewel of the Morvain family, a woman whose beauty and bearing could silence a room full of CEOs and whose cold elegance made the social elite fight for even a glance in her direction.
But now?
Now she was a crippled girl in a wheelchair, married off to a nobody like him, discarded by the very family that once polished and displayed her.
If their positions were reversed, if he woke up one day to find everything taken from him, he probably wouldn't want to talk to anyone either.
So yeah, no point in poking at wounds that were still fresh.
"Alright," he said finally. "I'll sleep on the floor then."
She glanced at him, wanting to say something. But Soren beat her to it.
"In case you need help at night. You can't exactly get up on your own, right?"
"..."
Soren took that as a yes as well.
He grabbed a spare futon from the closet, tossed a cushion on top, and spread it out on the floor beside the bed. Not exactly ideal, but better than the couch. Besides, it wasn't like he hadn't slept like this before.
He then lay down, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
...
...
[Ding!]
[Conditions have been met.]
[Awakening initiated.]