The Son-In-Law Of A Prestigious Family Wants A Divorce

✦ Prologue ✦

「Translator – Creator」

A crude, cobblestone path.

Figures draped in black mourning garb trudged onwards, their shoulders burdened by a single wooden coffin.

“They’re coming.”

They were survivors, back from the edge of the storm known as war. Their faces, battered by the heavy wind, looked weary.

And within that coffin they carried, lay a great swordsman who had faced the invasion of demonkind – a valiant warrior, now forever stilled.

A hero deserved a hero’s welcome. Yet, save for me, not a soul had come to greet them.

Under normal circumstances, I too would have remained distant, a silent observer.

But these were far from normal circumstances.

The woman within that coffin…

She was my wife.

“……………”

Silently, I welcomed them. They, in turn, slightly bowed their heads in greeting.

“Greetings, Mookgeom (Silent Sword).”

Mookgeom (Silent Sword). An ironic moniker, considering my weapon of choice. They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but what comfort did words offer against a tide of demons?

“Your teachings have been invaluable.”

“The manuals you penned have been of great help for our soldiers on the front lines.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing to hear that from knights like you.”

A bitter smile spread across my face. As someone unable to wield a sword, the only thing I could do was devise theories and put them into writing.

“Please lay her down here.”

I turned to the group, who were about to enter the small castle, and said with a wry smile. “Since no one will welcome her, there’s no point in going inside.”

At my words, they nodded with pained expressions and gently lowered the coffin.

“Do you have anywhere to go?”

“………….”

Silence was my only reply.

It wasn’t unusual.

“Well, who among us has a place to go?”

“May you be well.”

With a final, respectful bow, they turned and departed.

I probably wouldn’t see them again.

I was grateful for their final act of loyalty in bringing the coffin here.

The burial site had been prepared at a small clearing near the castle. Though the distance wasn’t far, the journey took so long that the sun had set and risen again by the time I got there.

“Forgive me, as you know, my one leg is useless.”

Using a cane, moving the coffin took longer than expected. I managed to bring it to the edge of the pre-dug grave. The beads of sweat that trickled down my face caught the morning light, glimmering like scattered jewels; one escaped, tracing a path down my cheek to land on the polished surface of the coffin. A humorless chuckle escaped my lips as I wiped it away.

“That’s the most precious gem I can offer you now, I’m afraid.”

*CREAK*

Slowly, I opened the coffin. Artificially adorned roses decorated the inside. Amidst the flowers lay a beautiful woman with her hands clasped, eyes closed.

Rianna Helmund.

First daughter of the illustrious Helmund family. A remarkable swordswoman who had vanquished numerous villains and slaughtered the transcendent beings.

Truly beloved.

My wife.

“Ten years have passed… yet your beauty remains untouched by time.”

The words left my lips, a hollow whisper amidst the morning stillness.

They said she had been on the battlefield for a long time, yet she looked as if she had just returned from a ball, her features unmarred by the ravages of war, her skin still radiating a youthful glow. The scent of roses wafted around her; it seemed magical means had been used to preserve her body.

“I thought I would have so much to say upon seeing you, yet now that you’re here, words seem unnecessary.”

Even with her lifeless body before me, I awkwardly glanced at the rising sun.

“Did you wonder why I ran away?”

Five years.

Our marriage had lasted a mere five years before I made the cowardly choice to flee.

The reasons were simple, really.

The relentless scorn from the Helmund family, their disdain for a commoner like me marrying into their esteemed bloodline. And Rianna… who chose to stand by and watch. Had she too been disappointed in me?

“I resented you, you know,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. “Did you, in turn, resent me?”

Even after ten long years of separation.

“Or did you feel relieved and laugh?”

We ended up with an ambiguous conclusion, far from a proper reunion.

“Unanswered questions are meaningless, aren’t they?”

One question, above all others, clawed at my mind.

“Were you, till the very end…”

Swinging that enormous sword,

With your final breath,

“Were you still the Great Helmund?”

A woman who lived solely for the Helmund name, even abandoning her husband.

“Hehe, haha.”

A humorless laugh escaped my throat, the sound harsh and brittle. 

Our connection was severed, broken beyond repair. Now, standing beside her lifeless form, it felt like I was merely hammering the final nail into the coffin of our shattered bond.

“At this moment, you too, must be smiling.”

Saying farewell to the woman who smiled like a rose. Having already shed all lingering regrets, I wanted to put a final dot at the end.

“Farewell then.”

As I reached out to unclasp her hands, and held them softly, my fingers brushed against something unexpected. A callus, rough against my skin. Years of wielding a sword had left their mark. But nestled between those calluses, on her left ring finger, lay a modest ring.

The simple wedding ring I had bought with my entire savings as a commoner, which had been scorned for its modesty.

Our wedding ring.

Seeing that it was still on her left ring finger…

“……………..”

I was momentarily speechless, just staring blankly at it.

“You…”

I let out a sigh mixed with lament, and a bitter smile formed on my face.

“Even in death, you leave me bewildered.”

❖

“Hmm?”

The dull ache that had plagued his right leg every morning was gone.

He reached for the cane he kept by my bedside, but his fingers grasped only at empty air.

His body, once stiff and riddled with the aches of a man nearing forty, felt… fluid, almost youthful.

“Where…?”

It was his room. Specifically, the room he used ten years ago in Helmund.

Of course, his wife and he slept in separate rooms. He used the guest room.

At the time, it had made him feel a little hurt, as if he was being marked as an outsider.

His reflection stared back at him from the ornate mirror across the room.

Isaac.

He was… young. The face that stared back at him was his own, but a decade younger. Smooth skin, unmarred by time. Jet-black hair. The face that had, once upon a time, earned him the occasional compliment.

And his leg… it was whole, unscarred.

The limp, a constant companion for the past ten years, was gone.

“A dream?”

This had to be some cruel trick of his subconscious. But even the most fantastical dreams couldn’t conjure the ornate details of the Helmund estate with such painful clarity.

*CREAK*

*CLICK*

“Brother-in-law!?”

The door opened, and a man stepped inside.

A tall figure with fiery red hair and sharp, aristocratic features strode into the room.

He knew that face, knew the confident swagger in his step.

Alois Helmund.

The third son of the Helmund family, and the only one who had ever shown him a shred of kindness.

“Alois?”

He looked exactly as Isaac remembered… a youthful vibrancy buzzing beneath his aristocratic facade.

“What are you doing? My sister is waiting for you!”

“Your sister? Rianna?”

“You’re acting strange today. And after all the effort we put into preparing for your anniversary celebration!”

Wedding Anniversary? Him? Preparing with Alois?

Disjointed fragments of memory began to coalesce, forming a single, horrifying realization.

‘Our fourth anniversary?’

One year before he ran from the Helmund Estate, from his life, from her.

“We worked hard together this time, so she’s definitely going to love it. You worked really hard too, Brother-in-law.”

Yes, that’s right. 

He couldn’t help but give a hollow laugh as he looked at Alois.

A desperate attempt to salvage a marriage on the brink. 

And also…

‘The trap that pushed me further into despair.’

From that day onward, neither Rianna, his wife, nor anyone else in Helmund expected anything from him.

‘The day my leg was crippled in an accident.’

That day marked him as someone unable to wield a sword, leading to him being known as Mookgeom (Silent Sword).

And now…

The culprit who took away his leg…

“Hurry up, brother-in-law! She’s going to be furious if we keep her waiting!”

…He was urging Isaac to hurry..

END of CHAPTER