She’s My Wife, So I’ll Protect Her However I Want

Chapter 3: Shadows in the Night

---

Two Days Ago…

The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie silver glow over the quiet town of Velhart. The streets, usually alive with the chatter of merchants and travelers, now lay silent under the weight of an unspoken tension. In the southern district, past rows of dimly lit homes, a group of knights stood gathered in front of an unremarkable wooden house. Their armor reflected the flickering lantern light, a stark contrast to the darkness that surrounded them.

The scene inside was far from ordinary.

The door, left slightly ajar, creaked softly in the wind. Inside, the remnants of a violent struggle lay scattered across the floor—splintered furniture, shattered glass, and the unmistakable stain of blood pooling across the wooden planks. But what was most disturbing wasn't the destruction.

It was the body.

Sir Aldren Blackthorn, a seasoned investigator within the knight order, knelt beside the lifeless form of Varin Eldrest, an S-rank adventurer known throughout the kingdom for his overwhelming strength—and his arrogance. And yet, despite his reputation, here he lay… throat slit with such precision that not a single defensive wound marred his arms. No signs of struggle beyond the destruction in the room, no indication that he had even attempted to fight back.

Which left only one conclusion.

The killers had been swift. Efficient. Merciless.

Aldren ran his gloved fingers over the bloodstained floorboards, his expression unreadable. The knights behind him remained tense, their hands instinctively gripping their weapons. The air was thick with unease, as though something unseen still lingered within the house.

Finally, Aldren stood and turned to his men. "Report. Any clues?"

One of the younger knights, his face pale, shook his head. "None, sir. No footprints, no traces of magic residue, no signs of forced entry… It's as if they vanished into thin air after killing him."

Aldren exhaled slowly, rubbing his chin. The lack of evidence was almost unnatural.

He turned his gaze back to the corpse. "Then our only option is to bring this to Captain Seraphina."

A murmur of unease rippled through the group.

"She won't like this," one knight muttered.

"She doesn't like anything," another whispered under his breath.

Aldren ignored their hushed complaints and motioned for them to move. This murder wasn't just another crime. It was a message. And they needed to figure out who had sent it before more bodies turned up.

---

Seraphina sat in her office, her sharp blue eyes scanning the reports piled before her. The dim candlelight cast flickering shadows across the wooden desk, illuminating the endless accounts of petty crimes, guild disputes, and missing persons cases. But her mind wasn't on them.

No, it was on the body found in the southern district.

The murder of an S-ranker…

It was almost unthinkable. S-rank adventurers weren't just strong; they were legends in their own right. To take one down so effortlessly meant either the killer was on the same level—or there had been more than one.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

"Enter," she called, her voice firm.

Sir Aldren stepped inside, his expression dark. The way his shoulders were set told her everything before he even spoke.

"There's no trace of the killers, Captain," Aldren admitted, frustration clear in his voice. "No evidence, no clues. If not for the body, it's as if nothing happened at all."

Seraphina leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers against the desk. "That's impossible."

Aldren sighed. "We thought so too. We combed the entire area. No witnesses. No signs of magic or forced entry. If the killers were strong enough to take down an S-ranker, there should be at least some collateral damage. But there's nothing."

Seraphina narrowed her eyes. Nothing? That's even more suspicious.

Then she asked the question that shifted the entire mood of the room.

"How do you know it wasn't a group?"

Silence.

Aldren hesitated. "A group?"

Seraphina nodded. "If a single person had done this, there would be some evidence of their presence. A fight between two S-rankers would have left more destruction. Someone would have heard something. But no one did. That means either the killer was impossibly skilled…"

"Or?"

"Or multiple people took him down at once."

A heavy tension filled the room.

A female investigator with auburn hair hesitated before speaking. "Captain, we ran tests. There was no poison in his system."

Seraphina sighed, rubbing her temple. "Then that only confirms my theory. They overpowered him through sheer force and speed before he could react. Which means we're dealing with an unknown force strong enough to bring down an S-ranker without a trace."

The weight of her words settled over the room like a thick fog.

"Check again. If there's anything—even the smallest detail—I want to know."

"Yes, Captain."

---

Present Time...

Seraphina sat at her desk, lost in thought.

This case is going nowhere…

She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. They needed something—anything. A lead, a clue, even a vague suspicion.

Anything would be better than this endless silence.

A sharp knock on the door broke through her thoughts.

"Enter," she said, not bothering to look up. She already knew the answer.

The door opened, and a female knight stepped inside, her polished armor clinking softly as she saluted.

"Captain," the knight—Lyra—began. "No new evidence."

Seraphina's eye twitched. Of course.

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "Nothing at all?"

Lyra shook her head. "We searched the entire scene again. No footprints, no weapon left behind, no signs of struggle. Whoever did this was careful. Too careful."

Seraphina sighed. "And what about his background? Have you contacted his family? Did he have any enemies?"

"Yes, Captain. We spoke to his wife. She said he was a good man, well-liked by the community. Other people in the area said the same."

Seraphina narrowed her eyes. No enemies? No grudges? Then who the hell would want him dead?

This doesn't make sense.

A man with no enemies doesn't just die like that. There had to be something they were missing.

She clenched her jaw, fingers tapping faster against the desk. Without any solid evidence, they were stuck. And the longer this dragged on, the colder the trail would get.

Her head was starting to ache.

Then, Lyra hesitated. She shifted slightly, clearing her throat. "There's… one more thing, Captain."

Seraphina looked up, eyes narrowing. "What is it?"

Lyra straightened her posture. "Another incident occurred yesterday. It's about him."

Seraphina instantly knew who she meant.

She groaned, already feeling the headache worsening. "Don't tell me it's that idiot again."

Lyra nodded. "The Adventurer's Guild reported that Knight Gareth got into a fight again."

Seraphina slammed a hand on the desk. "Unbelievable. Does that brainless moron ever learn?"

Lyra stayed silent, wisely avoiding eye contact.

Seraphina exhaled through gritted teeth. First the unsolved case, and now this idiot causing more trouble? Great. Just great.

"Tell him to meet me in my office tomorrow morning," she ordered, rubbing her temples again.

"Understood, Captain." Lyra saluted before stepping out, closing the door behind her.

Seraphina leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling.

Problem after problem. My head's gonna explode at this rate.

She glanced at the pile of reports, then at the window where the evening sun cast a faint golden glow.

No leads. No suspects. And an idiot knight causing trouble on the side.

What a pain.

---

Seraphina finished her work late that night. The streets of Velhart were quiet, shrouded in the dim glow of scattered lanterns. Yet, despite the stillness, a weight pressed on her chest—an unshakable unease, as if the very air carried a warning.

She walked briskly, her boots tapping lightly against the cobblestone. The scent of damp stone lingered after the evening rain. It should have been a peaceful night.

But then—

Clang!

Seraphina stopped dead in her tracks. The unmistakable clash of steel rang through the alley ahead.

Her body moved before her mind could catch up. She sprinted toward the sound, her instincts razor-sharp. The wind bit at her face as she turned a corner—and froze.

A knight—one of her own—was struggling against a lone attacker. The knight's sword trembled under the weight of a blade pressed against it, sparks dancing between the weapons.

But it wasn't the sight of battle that made Seraphina's breath hitch. It was the man wielding the blade.

In the silver glow of the moon, he was an eerie silhouette—draped in a sleek black coat with faint golden embroidery tracing its edges, resembling an aristocrat's attire yet subtly reinforced. The hem barely fluttered as he moved, its weight betraying hidden armor beneath. His high collar cast shadows over his face, obscuring all but the lower half. His gloves gleamed faintly, golden fingertips catching the moonlight as he adjusted his grip. Even the darkness seemed to cling to him, his movements seamless, like a wraith slipping through the night.

The knight buckled, knees nearly giving way.

Clang!

Seraphina's sword intercepted the masked man's strike just in time. A sharp, jarring impact rang through her arms as sparks scattered from their locked blades.

The masked man tilted his head ever so slightly. Not in fear. Not in frustration.

Curiosity.

Seraphina's heart pounded. He wasn't just skilled—he was calculating. Watching. Testing.

"You," she hissed, pressing harder against his blade. "Who are you?"

No response. The silence stretched between them, more suffocating than the night itself. Then, in a single, fluid motion, he disengaged.

Slash!

His sword lashed out in a sharp arc, forcing Seraphina to step back. She barely dodged as his blade sliced through the air where she had stood just moments before.

Clang!

She countered, their swords colliding once more. A burst of energy surged through her arms. He wasn't just fast—his strikes were precise, economical, like a predator conserving energy for a decisive kill.

Her mind raced.

He's not fighting to kill.

He's testing me. Gauging my reactions.

Why?

Their duel was a flurry of steel and sparks. Each strike met with another, each dodge measured. The sound of metal against metal echoed through the empty streets.

Then—

Footsteps.

More knights were arriving. The sound of armored boots clanking against stone grew closer.

The masked man turned his head slightly, assessing the situation. For a fraction of a second, Seraphina saw the glint of gold along his gloves as he clenched his fingers.

Then—

He stepped back. And vanished.

Not in a burst of magic, not in a dramatic retreat.

One moment, he was there. The next, the night swallowed him whole.

Seraphina remained frozen, her sword still raised. Her breath came in sharp, steadying exhales.

The knight behind her collapsed to his knees, gripping his sword with trembling hands. "I… I don't know who he was… but he was terrifying."

Seraphina slowly lowered her blade. Her heartbeat still hammered in her ears.

She looked to the empty alley where the masked man had stood just moments ago.

Who was he?

Why did he hold back?

And why had he targeted one of my knights?

---

By the time Seraphina reached her home, exhaustion weighed heavy on her shoulders. The night air was cool, but it did nothing to ease the weight pressing down on her mind. She approached the door and knocked once—more out of habit than necessity.

The door swung open almost instantly.

Kael stood there, leaning lazily against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. His silver eyes flickered with amusement, though the smirk on his lips held something sharper beneath it.

"You're late," he drawled.

Seraphina pushed past him without so much as a glance. "Not my problem."

Kael turned, shutting the door behind her. "Tch. You could at least pretend to be grateful. You know, for the person who keeps your house from turning into a pigsty."

Seraphina scoffed, tossing her gloves onto the nearby table. "I didn't ask you to."

"No, but if I didn't, you'd be coming home to a mess every night. And before you say it, yes, I know—you 'don't care." Kael's voice was laced with mockery, as if he had already heard the argument a hundred times before.

Seraphina rolled her shoulders, her irritation rising. "Then stop wasting your time. No one asked you to wait for me, no one asked you to cook for me, and no one asked you to act like we're actually—" She cut herself off, biting down on the last word.

Kael's smirk widened. "Like we're actually married?"

She shot him a glare, her blue eyes sharp as a blade. "Don't say it like that. It makes me sick."

Kael let out a low whistle. "Ouch. And here I thought we were starting to get along."

Seraphina rolled her eyes and turned toward her room. "In your dreams."

Kael's voice followed her, light but carrying an edge beneath it. "You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you sure seem obsessed with making sure I know it. Almost like you're trying to convince yourself."

Seraphina froze, her grip tightening on the door handle.

She turned her head slightly, her tone sharp. "You seriously think I give a damn about you? Don't make me laugh."

Kael shrugged, unfazed. "Hey, I'm just saying—most people don't waste this much effort on someone they don't care about."

Seraphina clicked her tongue in annoyance and pushed the door open. "Tch. You're an idiot."

Kael chuckled. "And you're predictable."

She slammed the door shut behind her.

Kael stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

It wasn't like he cared about her either. Not in the way she probably feared. Their marriage was nothing more than duty and obligation, and he had never deluded himself into thinking it was anything else.

But still…

Even if he didn't love her, he couldn't help but wonder—how long could someone live carrying that much hate before it consumed them entirely?

---

Seraphina stormed into their room, slamming the door behind her with enough force to rattle the furniture. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Her heart pounded in frustration. That idiot. That absolute, insufferable idiot.

She ripped off her knight's cloak, tossing it aside without care. Her gauntlets came next, the metal clinking sharply as they hit the wooden floor. She tugged at the straps of her armor, every movement rough, fueled by anger.

Her mind replayed their argument over and over again, each word igniting her rage anew.

Why do I have to deal with this?

Why do I have to explain myself to him? Who the hell is he to make me this frustrated?!

She gritted her teeth, pulling off the last piece of armor and throwing it onto the pile. The cool night air touched her skin, but it did nothing to calm the heat burning inside her.

She sat on the bed, arms crossed, glaring at nothing in particular.

That guy… He had the nerve, the audacity, to keep acting like nothing bothers him. No matter how much I insulted him, no matter how sharp my words were, he just brushed it off. Always smirking, always teasing, like he found my anger amusing.

What the hell is wrong with him? Didn't he have any pride? Didn't he feel even a little insulted?!

Tch. Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.

She grabbed a pillow and shoved it against her face, screaming into it before throwing it across the room.

"Ughhh!! I hate him!" she hissed, lying back on the bed, arms spread.

The ceiling stared back at her, and she hated it too.

She turned to the side, pressing her face into the mattress, trying to ignore the annoying, nagging feeling inside her chest.

Why did it feel like I had lost?

No, no, no—there was nothing to lose. Because I didn't care. Not one bit. And I would never care. I just needed sleep.

Seraphina shut her eyes, willing herself to sleep. But even as exhaustion pulled at her, the frustration lingered, refusing to let go.

---

(Chapter Ended)