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 9

“I’ve decided! I shall become a magic tool craftsman! I recall you have a distinguished researcher among your relatives. Write me a letter of introduction at once!”

“…Huh?”

After being swindled into buying suspiciously ineffective products last time and suffering greatly for it, has he now decided to make his own to avoid being tricked again?

He originally set out to become a merchant because he believed trust was the most important asset and wanted to build a reputation. Yet, the products he obtained turned out to be of questionable effectiveness. Fortunately, since he had no credibility to begin with, he didn’t manage to sell a single one, meaning his reputation remained intact.

…Or rather, he never even had enough credibility to sell a single item in the first place. How amusing.

That being said, the experience of personally crafting items with actual effects might prove valuable.

And while he’s occupied with that, at least he’ll stay out of trouble…

Yes, that settles it.

Though I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a relative I keep in close contact with, I shall entrust him to someone who teaches at a school in the northern academic city while also conducting research.

If possible, I’d like him to be… confined—no, no, supervised—for at least ten years while he works on his craft.

This researcher has been recognized by His Majesty the King for developing a magic-sealing tool that allows magic to be stored and used in times of need.

If he can master the creation of these magic-sealing tools, that would be quite the achievement.

And perhaps… they might even sell. Along with my dear husband…

Currently, mass production is still unfeasible, but if research leads to its mass production, our family’s merchant guild has been asked to handle sales, which, of course, we shall do. To oversee this process, I shall dispatch my husband under the guise of an “inspection.”

Furthermore, since my husband holds no particular position within our household and has expressed interest in magic-sealing tools, I have requested that he be taught, no matter how long it takes. To ensure motivation, I have also drafted a contract stating that should he succeed in crafting them, he will receive an increased share of the profits.

With that, I saw him off with a smile.

And thus began my days of blissful peace.

No longer do I have to live in constant fear of my husband causing problems.

No one can criticize me for sending him to the academic city under the pretense of supporting a royal-awarded researcher and aiding in mass production efforts. Publicly, at least. After all, it is an honorable duty.

Of course, no one actually expects him to succeed. But since expectations are nonexistent from the start, there is no issue.

The only one to complain was the Duke, who demanded, “What are you thinking?! If he ends up engaging in illicit affairs in the academic city—worse, if he indiscriminately pursues women—the honor of both the House of Arzenberg and the House of Crusroden will be ruined!”

I mean… after so carelessly dumping him on our household, he has the nerve to lecture me?

Besides, the rigid scholars of the academic city have no time to waste on romantic dalliances.

And just in case, I had him sign a contract stating that if he were to manufacture or use aphrodisiacs or love potions, he would be executed. The contract itself serves as a deterrent to ensure he won’t even think of trying.

As an added measure, I had the terms of this contract burned into his eyelids using a magic tool.

Should he ever be tempted to break the agreement, the word EXECUTION will flash before his eyes.

A truly marvelous technology.

This, too, was developed by my relative in the academic city.

“Lady Yuffie, I deeply apologize!”

“Oh my, Zaran, what a pleasure.”

One day, as I was basking in the joy of my newfound freedom, I received a magical transmission from Zaran, my relative in the academic city.

An apology right from the start? That can only mean one thing—my husband has caused trouble.

Honestly… he didn’t even last a few days, did he?

“Did something happen?”

“It concerns Lord Everard.”

“Sigh…”

Of course, it does. What a hopeless man.

“Did he attempt to seduce some beautiful woman?”

“That’s not it… Somehow, in the midst of his fumbling, he seems to have developed a brand-new magic tool.”

“…What?”

What is that supposed to mean?

I had received reports that my husband had started work on constructing a mechanism to seal magic within magic stones.

For all his flaws, he did at least graduate from the royal capital’s academy, meaning he possesses basic magical knowledge.

As such, he was able to skip a few introductory lessons and dive straight into practical work.

The real issue came afterward.

Despite being given explanations, he failed to understand a single aspect of the mechanism. Yet, in his usual arrogance, he simply waved it off with a “Got it, got it!” and began working.

What he ended up with was something entirely different from what he had been instructed to create.

Ordinarily, a failed mechanism would result in a non-functional magic tool.

And yet, the one he made apparently does work.

Which means… it must be an entirely new invention.

Could he possibly have some hidden talent?

If so, I’ll be submitting an application to have him permanently stationed in the academic city…

“And why, exactly, are you apologizing?”

“It seems that the effect of the magic tool he created is… problematic.”

“Problematic?”

If it’s truly something new, then no matter what the effect is, it could still become a valuable research subject. If it has useful applications, he could even be rewarded. And if it can be mass-produced, it could turn into a profitable business.

But if it’s problematic…

Just what on earth has he created?