Investing in My Crippled Wife: Every Return Makes Me Stronger

”I... I’ll try.”

Ethea muttered after a slight hesitation.

Soren’s face lit up immediately, a genuine smile spreading across his features.

”Thank you. That’s more than enough.”

He turned back toward the center of the courtyard and adjusted his grip on the spear, settling into a basic stance.

Ethea watched quietly as he began.

For the first hour, Soren focused entirely on spearmanship.

He worked through the drills Marcus had taught him: thrust, withdraw, pivot, stance correction. The movements were methodical but rough, the kind of technique that came from only a handful of training sessions rather than years of practice.

Ethea observed from her wheelchair.

She wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about spears. Her main weapon had always been the sword. But even so, she could see the fundamental mistakes in his form.

After a particularly awkward thrust, she spoke quietly.

”...Weight. Too forward.”

Soren paused and glanced back at her.

”...Pull back slightly. Keep center stable.”

He adjusted his stance and tried again. The improvement was small but noticeable.

A few minutes later, she spoke again. ”...Grip. Relax rear hand.”

Soren loosened his hold.

”...Feet wider.”

He corrected his stance.

Throughout the hour, Ethea continued offering short corrections whenever he made obvious mistakes. Her words were brief and to the point, conserving her strength while still guiding him.

”...Guard drops after strike.”

”...Don’t overextend.”

”...Exhale on thrust.”

Soren absorbed every word with unwavering focus, adjusting his technique bit by bit.

The hour passed steadily.

Finally, Soren set the spear down and stepped back, wiping sweat from his forehead.

”I’m going to practice some techniques now. First, ice-based.”

Ethea tilted her head slightly, curious.

Soren moved to an open space in the courtyard and took a deep breath. Cold Mana began gathering in his right palm, frost condensing rapidly along his skin until a thin layer of crystalline ice formed.

He thrust his palm forward in a sharp, controlled motion.

The air shimmered with cold energy, frost spreading outward in a visible wave before dissipating into nothing.

Ethea’s eyes widened.

She recognized that technique immediately. The Frost Palm Strike. The first technique of the Ice Emperor’s Legacy.

She’d learned it years ago when she first accepted the legacy. Had mastered it completely by the time she reached the Third Circle.

But how did Soren know it?

The answer came to her almost immediately.

Her father must have given it to him.

The Ice Emperor’s Legacy belonged to the Morvain family, passed down through their bloodline. Darius, as the family head, had every right to share it with anyone he deemed worthy.

And Soren did have Grade 7 ice affinity and S-rank potential.

But why? Why did her father give it to him?

A darker thought crept into Ethea’s mind.

Was he trying to replace her?

She was broken now. Useless. A burden on the family name.

Meanwhile, Soren was young, talented, and filled with potential.

Everything she used to be before the fall.

A perfect replacement.

Her fingers curled tightly in her lap as she watched him practice the technique that had once been hers.

Soren executed the strike again, then paused. He glanced back at Ethea and noticed her distracted expression, the distant look in her eyes.

”Ethea? Is something wrong?”

His voice pulled her from her thoughts.

She hesitated, unsure whether to voice the questions swirling in her mind. After a moment, she sighed inwardly and shook her head briefly.

”...I’m fine.”

Soren studied her face for a moment longer, concern evident in his eyes. Then he sighed in relief.

”I think I made you tired. Should I take you back inside to rest? You could watch TV or sleep for a bit.”

”...No.” Ethea’s voice was quiet but firm. ”It’s fine. Continue. I’ll... help.”

”Are you sure?”

”...Mmm.”

”Alright. But don’t push yourself, okay?”

Soren turned back to his training and activated the Frost Palm Strike again.This time, Ethea focused. She pushed aside her darker thoughts and observed his technique with a critical eye.

”...Your mana flow. It’s too concentrated in the palm center.”

Soren paused.”

...Spread it evenly across the entire hand. Like this.” She gestured weakly with her own hand, miming the motion. ”From wrist to fingertips.”

He adjusted his Mana circulation and tried again. The frost formed more evenly this time, coating his entire palm rather than just the center.

”Better,” Ethea murmured.

Over the next half hour, she continued guiding him through the finer points of the technique. Despite her limited ability to speak at length, her experience with the Ice Emperor’s Legacy allowed her to pinpoint exactly where he was going wrong.

”...Strike angle. Fifteen degrees lower.”

”...Breath timing. Inhale during gather, exhale on release.”

”...Don’t force the frost. Let cold Mana naturally condense.”

Soren absorbed every correction, his mastery improving visibly with each attempt. The frost became sharper, the cold energy more concentrated, the technique more refined.

By the time Clara’s return drew near, Soren’s Frost Palm Strike had improved dramatically from where it started.

He deactivated the technique and turned to Ethea with genuine awe in his expression.”You really are the Ice Empress. If I’d been training alone, I probably would’ve spent years trying to reach this kind of mastery.”

Ethea’s expression softened slightly, a faint hint of something almost like pride flickering in her eyes before she looked away.

Soren moved behind her wheelchair and carefully pushed her back inside, grateful for her help and glad to see her engaging with him more openly.

Even if just for a little while.

However, just as they entered the house, Soren heard Ethea’s quiet voice.

”...Did my father... give it to you?”

Soren paused mid-step, confusion flickering across his face. Her father? Was she talking about that money? No, she was there when he got them. Then...

”You mean... the technique?” He muttered. ”No, I... I got it from someone else.”

The lie came easier than he expected, though it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He couldn’t exactly tell her the truth. That his mysterious ability had granted him the Ice Emperor’s Legacy after he’d risked his life protecting her from an assassin. That every act of care he performed for her somehow returned amplified rewards he didn’t fully understand.

Even though he trusted her. Even though he believed in her character.

He still chose to keep the Investment Authority hidden.

It was too dangerous. Too unexplainable. If word got out that he possessed an ability that granted him rewards simply for helping people, he’d become a target overnight. Guilds would hunt him. Powerful families would try to exploit him. The government might decide he was too valuable to remain independent.

And Ethea... even though she was abandoned, she was still a Morvain by blood. If she knew, would she tell her family? Would they try to control him through that knowledge?

Soren didn’t think she would. But the risk was too great.

Perhaps there would be a time in the future when he could share it with her openly. When he was strong enough to protect himself and her from the consequences. When the bond between them was deep enough that he knew without doubt she would guard his secret.

But not now.

Ethea remained silent beside him. She didn’t press further, didn’t ask for clarification, or demand to know who this ”someone else” was.

She simply turned her gaze away, her expression carefully neutral.

But Soren was certain she didn’t believe his flimsy excuse. He wanted to say something, to explain or reassure her, but the words wouldn’t come.

’I... I’m sorry,’ he thought quietly. ’I’ll tell you someday. When it’s safe. When I’m strong enough that the truth won’t put either of us in danger.’

For now, the secret would remain his alone.