Divorce Manual

Chapter 82

...

Oh, this is the truth.

I have that idea as soon as I see Curtis holding the robe in his hand.

Red-haired Ronnie said she wears pants and a robe over it.

You've brought me the robe.

Oh shit.

I think it's worse if I pretend that it's not real.

I look at Charles with narrow eyes.

"What is this?"

I turn my head as if I don't know.

Of course, I know what this means, and it's certainly exactly what I think it is.

Is it possible to have hope?

However,

"His Excellency told me that you'd know if I give it to you."

"..."

Wow. You are someone who exceeds expectations.

I would rather force him to wear it.

Though, it's not like he's forcing me to wear either way.

This is a trick of his.

"Hah."

Looking over Curtis shoulder, I give him a stare.

"Hortman."

After Curtis brings the robe, Charles has been facing this direction, and I can see him moving, calling Hortman over for nothing.

You seem to know that you did something wrong, right?

No, honestly, I thought that wearing pants would cause an uproar.

They're neat, Korean style black pantsuits.

Of course, they're not made of spandex, so they're stiff like pants.

Depending on the taste of the owner, these pants are shaped to emphasize a slightly feminine silhouette.

But, won't it be necessary to wear loose drawers again?

I do like pretty things.

However, it's no use to talk to myself. I have to openly talk with Charles.

"Give it to me."

If I say that I won't wear it, I would be ignoring Curtis' sincerity, who's brought the robe to the ranch.

Only Curtis will be embarrassed.

"Let's wear it since His Excellency ordered it himself."

I was going to take the robe in Curtis' hand and shake it off like it can break.

No need to shake this shit.

Even if I hold the robe up high with both hands, its hem still touches the floor.

"But, Curtis?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"I—Is this going to fit?"

I lift my arms as high as I can, but the end of the robe still reaches the ground.

"Did you bring me a tent or something?"

"...What?"

Looking at the robe and me alternately, he coughs awkwardly.

"It's too big for you. I'll have it fix."

"That man, no, His Excellency, must have given this to me to wear right away."

I think he gave me a robe that could be mistaken for a wedding veil, one that can sweep the floor.

Well, it's not my clothes but his clothes.

I put it on, knowing that it will sweep everywhere. I feel that I look like I'm about to give a congratulatory address.

And...

"..."

Both Curtis and I turn speechless.

"This is—"

I don't look like I'm wearing my mom's clothes. Instead, I feel like a middle school girl wearing her dad's clothes.

"It's very big."

"I'd rather ask Pope to bring my clothes."

"His Excellency asked me to bring this."

This?

"Is that so?"

Why?

No matter how much I look at it, it looks like a robe that's nothing special.

It's a plain robe that's light but has a rough texture.

It's just incredibly big.

So if Charles wears it, he might look good in it, but if I wear it, it's the contrary.

I look like a little kid in a burlap.

It's not like he doesn't know that.

"Why?"

I wonder what his intention is to give me this. I look past Curtis' shoulders and over at Charles.

"He asked me to bring you a magical robe."

Curtis adds with an explanation.

"Magical?"

"Yes, I don't know the exact details, but from what I've heard, it's a robe with protective magic."

"...Ah."

That's precious.

Wait—speaking of robes with protective magic,

Wasn't this a gift to Abigail?

I remember that Charles gave Abigail this to protect her from the imperial war that will take place next year after the founding festival.

Why are you giving this to me?

Eventually because of this—

Charles suffered fatal injuries in battle, and he was defeated in the war.

Using that as an excuse, Kyle said, 'I am the main character!' He appeared like a savior, going into the battle that Charles could not finish, winning the war, grabbing the victory, and blah blah blah.

How can I not remember to read these details carefully?

Meanwhile, Abigail, the heroine, put this robe on Kyle before he left for the battle.

'You can't get hurt or die, Your Majesty, no Kyle.'

It was not the first time she called him 'Kyle' when she bid him goodbye.

I remember the romance very clearly.

But if I think about it in a different way—

At that time, the narrative of the male and female protagonists was important, and Charles was the antagonist, so I didn't think much about it.

Abigail's the bad girl— yes, isn't she the bad person?

Before his death, Charles' father gave him the robe, fearing that something would happen to him, and in the end, Charles was driven to death.

He gave the robe that his father asked him not to give to anyone else, so that he can protect his loved one.

Of course!

Until all those things happened, there were a lot internal conflicts and a lot of thoughtfulness about what Charles did.

You ended up giving it to her anyway.

Wasn't it something he wasn't supposed to give to anyone?

With that magical robe, Kyle became emperor, and Charles failed and died in the end.

What was the use of inner conflict?

"..."

But—

It was so important in the novel that I can clearly remember the existence of this robe.

Why are you giving me this?

You can't give it to me.

"Curtis, do you have many magical robes like this?"

"No, there is only one magical robe."

"..."

I know this is valuable, but is it that precious?

So, why are you giving it to me?

What is this?

What's going on?

I can't understand his thoughts.

"Then, is this the only robe you have?"

"No way."

Yes, there can't be only one robe.

Chaos upon chaos.

I feel like I can't understand the current situation properly in my head.

Why did you give it to me?

You shouldn't have given it to me.

"Did you bring the wrong one?"

"I've brought the right one."

"Why is he giving such a precious..."

Curtis laughs heartily at my words

"His Excellency is probably concerned about his wife."

He kindly adds an explanation to calm my panic mind.

With a kind smile on his face,

"..."

Curtis and Charles takes turn chuckling.

That's ridiculous.

He probably just thinks this outfit is annoying.

"Well, let's say it's so."

Curtis always sees the good in whatever it is that Charles does.

You don't know how good he is at acting.

I don't think it's any use to badmouth him in front of Curtis.

Let's just say yes, and pull up the robe that's falling off.

"It looks good on you."

Charles, who has just walked over with Hortman, stands in front of me.

This? This big thing?

"Are you serious?"

I wrinkle my forehead at the absurdity.

However, he tilts his head slightly, as if he doesn't think it's ridiculous at all.

"Uh."

"Really?"

"Doesn't it suit you?"

"..."

"It looks good on me."

What is wrong with this guy's aesthetic sense?

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere."

It's hard to pick just a place so I just ramble on.

"Right. Haha."

It's oversized, making me feel as if it's going to eat me alive.

"I think this beautiful robe should be completed by my own hands."

Hortman, who's behind Charles, struts forward.

"It's fine."

I deflect and refuse.

What else will you do to rip him off?

"...What?"

Since there's no way he can read my thoughts, Hortman opens his mouth in bewilderment.

"Why?"

"I don't need it."

It costs money.

"I will help you to dress more comfortably."

"I'm comfortable now. Like I don't even have it on."

However, the cumbersome hem steadily dangles on the floor.

Let's pretend to be calm.

I smile, pulling up the robe's hem.

"..."

Charles stares at me.

"Is that because you're afraid Hortman will put a cost on it?"

"Well, isn't he?"

I answer after he has read my thoughts.

He's a demon.

(T/N: she's talking about Hortman)

Isn't this a problem that can be solved without involving someone like him?

But—

"No!"

Hortman, the concerned party, seems to be very unhappy about such misunderstandings.

"No! What do you see people as?!"

He hits his chest and sweeps up his green hair.

"What conditions did I give? Why are you blaming me like this? It's really unfair. I'm really being pure and passionate about it!"

The way he's reacting, it's like he's being subjected to something unjust.

"Shouldn't you already know?"

I stare at him with my arms folded

"No!"

Then, would you like me to tell you?

.
.

.

.

T/N: We stan a husband that constantly worries over his wife's health. BTW, as much braincells as he developed, his fool really thought that just because something would look good on him, it'd look good on her as if sizing doesn't matter?
LMAOOOO I love him so much but like, when am I getting a hug, a kiss, or any sort of skinship because it's been a drought....