My Husband is so carefree and constantly Cheats on me, so I Kept making him Suffer as Payback, but somehow, he’s started to seem Kind of Cute. - Chapter 7

“Yuffie! Trust is the most important thing in life! I’ve decided—I shall become a merchant!”

“…Excuse me?”

Has he, perhaps, learned something from his humiliating downfall as a priest?

After pouring an obscene amount of donations into his efforts to become High Priest, only to be betrayed by the woman he adored and kicked out, has this man finally gained some self-awareness?

Unfortunately, dear husband, the word ‘trust’ does not suit you.

If anything, ‘exploitation’ suits you far better—don’t you think?

By the way, do you remember the tax fraud you accidentally uncovered in House Maximilian?

It’s become quite the entertaining topic at social gatherings.

I imagine that the drunken nobles retelling it with exaggerated flair hold about as much credibility as a man begging his wife for a favor with the phrase, ‘Just this once, I swear.’

But back to the matter at hand.

What exactly do you intend to sell?

Because you will never be allowed to touch any of the Crusroden family’s products.

Our merchandise is built on trust and reputation—and you, my dear husband, have neither.

“And what, exactly, do you intend to sell?”

“Ah, this!”

“…Hah.”

He confidently pulled something from his pocket.

…What is this?

It appears to be some kind of wooden board.

“Don’t recognize it? Well, I suppose that makes sense.”

The smug expression on his face—I have never wanted to punch him more.

“Tch. This, my dear Yuffie, is a magic talisman! Just holding it brings peace of mind!”

…

I must have unintentionally released a bit of killing intent, because he visibly flinched.

“I plan to sell these to the common folk, who are troubled by the recent instability, and make a fortune!”

…

How exactly am I supposed to respond to this?

Has he completely lost it?

If this so-called charm actually worked, shouldn’t it be calming him down right now?

Also, let’s be clear—

This is the royal capital.

Does he actually intend to stand in the streets shouting,

“You there! Is the current state of affairs leaving you uneasy? Fear not, for I have just the thing!”

I can already see him being arrested for treason.

Or executed.

Either works.

But please, do not drag our family into this.

Even if I know House Arzenberg will take the blame, I’d rather avoid the scandal altogether.

More importantly—

He spoke of making a fortune, but…

Where did he source these charms?

And for how much?

The fool was grinning like a man who had eaten a hallucinogenic mushroom.

Still, I decided to ask.

“You didn’t make these yourself, did you?”

“Nope!”

“Then where did you buy them? And for how much?”

“These are made by House Rootney, a Viscount’s family. They originally tried to sell them to the temple, but the new High Priest rejected them. Can you believe it? Clearly, the High Priest has no regard for the hearts of the people!”

…

He’s an idiot.

The temple rejected them for a reason.

Namely, that they don’t work.

It was likely a decision made in good faith by House Laverrois, the High Priest’s family.

Also—House Rootney?

Now that he mentions it, I recall that a certain viscount’s daughter was the subject of much admiration in high society last year.

Could it be…?

No, surely not.

Surely, my idiot husband hasn’t started an affair with her.

Right?

“Viscount Rootney had overproduced these charms and was struggling to find a buyer. So I stepped in and bought them all for 1 million gil!”

“You absolute moron!”

“Guh—!”

That is exactly the amount we donated to the temple.

We had made that donation partly as an apology for his scandal,

And partly to support his ridiculous attempt at becoming High Priest.

House Laverrois had been kind enough to return the funds after his failure—

And now they’re gone.

“You spent the equivalent of one hundred years’ worth of a commoner’s salary… on this?!”

To turn a profit, he would need to sell all of them.

If he priced them at 5 gil apiece, he would have to sell 200,000 units.

Does this idiot actually intend to sell one to every single citizen in the capital?!

“Tch… Damn it! Just you wait, Yuffie! I’ll sell every last one of these and prove you wrong!!!”

If he actually manages to sell them all, I’ll be genuinely impressed.

And in that case, I suppose I’ll have to reevaluate my opinion of him.

However—

His current state of panic suggests that even he doesn’t believe in the charms’ effectiveness.

And now, I’ve realized something.

If he does somehow sell all of these, wouldn’t that damage the reputation of House Crusroden?

Because let’s be clear—

These charms do not work.

At all.

I quickly turned to look at the Head Butler, who had the same grim realization.

His expression was… deeply troubled.

“Retrieve them immediately. If that proves difficult, buy them back.”

“…Understood.”

His reluctance was palpable.

And of course, it was entirely justified.

After all, my greedy husband would undoubtedly try to turn a profit exceeding one million gil.

“Investigate House Rootney as well. No—before that, confirm the effectiveness of these charms with the temple and House Laverrois. If they are completely fraudulent, we will formally lodge a protest against House Rootney and demand a refund. As for any money my husband already spent, it will be deducted from his personal allowance.”

“Understood.”

Thankfully, we avoided a complete disaster.

When the investigation into the charms’ effectiveness was completed, the results were…

As expected.

They had zero magical properties.

At best, they were vaguely aesthetic, and some people might have felt a placebo effect from holding them.

That was the extent of their so-called power.

In other words—

They were nothing more than glorified scrap metal.

Naturally, we demanded a refund.

When we threatened legal action, House Rootney immediately complied.

After all, they couldn’t afford to make an enemy of House Crusroden.

Ironically, this situation proved to be a lesson in trust and credibility—

Though not in the way my husband had intended.

Meanwhile—

Until we had definitive proof of the scam, I allowed my husband to continue his business venture.

And the result?

As expected—

Not a single charm was sold.

Because the people of the royal capital were not foolish enough to buy scrap metal from a suspicious self-proclaimed noble standing in the corner of the marketplace.

Honestly, I think this was even more humiliating than his failure as a priest.