Investing in My Crippled Wife: Every Return Makes Me Stronger

’...Dead?’

Soren stood utterly still, the dark chamber tilting on its axis as the revelation crashed over him.

His mind stopped working, his heart frozen mid-beat as if it had forgotten how to function. The world around him blurred into meaningless shapes. Bowing Malakor, watchful Elenaria, worried Ethea behind him - all of them faded into the background, drowned out by the single word constantly echoing in his chest.

...Dead.

She was dead.

The one who waited by the door every evening, the one who had curled up on his chest every night, the companion who had been his only warmth during the loneliest years of his life...

Gone.

’...

You have to wake up, Soren.

You have someone else to save now.

...

We will meet again.

...’

Those words, which he had clung to as a promise, now revealed themselves for what they truly were.

’She... She knew.’

The dream, the laughter when he asked how to wake up, the nudge urging him to leave, the way she looked at him before he closed his eyes. All of it had been her way of letting go, and he had been too blind to recognize it. Worse of all...

’I... I couldn’t even say goodbye...’

’...’

’...Soren.’

A familiar voice cut through the darkness like a thread of light.

’Ethea...?’

’It’s alright. I’m here...’

’Raine... She... She is...’

’...’

Ethea gently wrapped her consciousness around him. She did not offer empty reassurances or tell him the pain would pass. She simply held on, reminding him without words that he was not alone in the suffocating dark.

Slowly, Soren’s breathing steadied, and the reality of the chamber trickled back in pieces.

He turned his head back slightly and found Ethea looking up at him from the wheelchair, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her gaze held no pity, only a profound, aching recognition. She understood. Perhaps better than anyone else in this chamber, she understood what it meant to lose a bond. The hollow space that opened in your chest, the guilt that whispered you could have done more, and the memories that played on repeat, each one a small, beautiful wound.

’...Thank you.’

’...’

Meanwhile, Elenaria’s gaze remained fixed on Malakor. A subtle shimmer of mana flickered within her irises as she activated a secret spirit magic, one passed down through her elven bloodline. The hidden threads connecting soul to soul unraveled before her sight.

There.

Stretching between Soren and the bowing panther was a bond. Thin as spider silk, pulsing with a faint violet light. And...

’It is real...’

Malakor hadn’t lied.

He really became Soren’s slave...

’Then... what about Raine? Were all of our theories wrong?’

The thought unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Because she had been so certain about it, about Raine being a legendary magic beast. But now...

She glanced at Soren, observing his expression.

’He’s definitely not acting. That grief is genuine.’

The hollow look in his eyes, the way his shoulders had slumped, the tremor in his breath as he turned back toward Ethea. None of it bore the marks of performance. Whatever bond he had shared with Raine, its loss had shattered something in him that no amount of ’acting’ could fabricate.

’What a shame...’

Elenaria sighed inwardly, a rare flicker of regret passing through her. She had built an elegant theory, and reality had dismantled it without ceremony. It was not the first time her conclusions had been proven wrong, but it stung nonetheless.

However, a faint trace of suspicion still lingered at the edges of her thoughts, refusing to be fully extinguished. The slave seal was real, and Soren’s grief was real, but Malakor’s story had too many convenient angles to be accepted without further scrutiny. She would not voice her doubts now, though. There was nothing to be gained by pressing further while emotions ran this high.

’...Let’s keep watching for now.’

A few minutes passed in silence.

Soren took a deep breath, steadying himself and refocusing. The lingering grief over Raine’s absence remained, but he couldn’t afford to break down here.

’Huff...’

Now that he had calmed somewhat, a sliver of clarity pushed through the fog, reminding him that things were rarely as simple as they first appeared. He also realized he might have overreacted a bit without verifying the details himself, letting raw emotion cloud his judgment before he had all the facts.

But when his eyes fell upon Malakor, whatever reason had surfaced was swallowed whole by a fresh wave of killing intent.

’All because of this bastard...’

His fingers curled into fists at his sides.

”...You... You said you’re my slave now, right?”

”Yes, Master,” Malakor replied hurriedly. ”My life, my strength, my abilities, my knowledge... all of it belongs to you. Should you command me to fight, I will fight. Should you command me to die, I will die.”

”...” Soren studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he turned toward Elenaria.

”Director, is that really true?”

”...Yes. He is speaking the truth.” Elenaria nodded after a brief pause. ”Furthermore, he cannot lie to you, go against your interests, or refuse any of your commands. And... The seal ties his life to yours, so he is compelled to protect you at all costs. If you die, he dies as well.”

”...I see.” Soren narrowed his eyes. ”But what if he gets injured or... dies? Does it affect me in any way?”

”...No. Even if he gets killed, you will suffer no harm. That is the fate of a slave.” Elenaria’s tone was matter-of-fact, carrying no sympathy for the panther kneeling before them. ”The bond is entirely one-sided by design. The master holds all the power, and the slave bears all the risk. It is why the ritual is forbidden across most civilized nations.”

”You mean...”

”In the wrong hands, one could build an army of enslaved beings, stripping countless creatures of their will and turning them into disposable tools,” Ethea spoke up coldly, surprising both Soren and Elenaria. ”It is a vile practice that reduces living beings into hollow husks. They lose their freedom, their choice, their very sense of self. It is a disgustingly cruel magic, no matter who holds the contract.”

Elenaria squinted at Ethea for a moment before turning back to Soren.

”...Your wife is right.”