Bart is popular with women.
Blessed with good looks, Bart had been known as a ladies’ man among his comrades since his mercenary days.
He didn’t even need to pay to visit a brothel; he could easily get close to some girl in town and end up staying at her place. That’s how much he was admired.
This hadn’t changed even after securing a stable job as a retainer in the Earlkvist territory. In fact, his popularity only increased with his new status as a “retainer serving a noble.”
However, now that he was approaching his mid-twenties, Bart began to feel the urge to settle down, and his natural playboy tendencies started to trouble him.
(A marriage partner… how should I even decide?)
Most of Bart’s experiences with women were brief flings, just spending the night together. Given his unstable position as a mercenary, he’d never had a proper relationship.
As a result, even though Bart wanted to marry, he had no idea how to find a good partner.
Every time Bart led the transport team to Retvik, the girls working at his regular shops or restaurants would call out to him and shower him with attention.
Even now, a girl from a general store in Retvik, a place Bart frequented, was sweetly inviting him, “You’re staying in town tonight, right? You should come over to my apartment.”
Getting invited like this didn’t feel bad as a man. However, when asked if he wanted to marry this girl, the answer was different.
(She probably just finds my looks and status appealing…)
The ambition to “catch a good match” was clear on her face.
Bart didn’t necessarily think that was a bad thing, but he wished to marry a woman who would love him for who he was, not just for his face or status.
Yuri and Mai, Edgar and Anna, and even Radley and Gina—they were surely drawn to each other’s personalities. Even if their social status changed, or they aged and their looks changed, they would continue to love each other.
Bart longed to meet someone like that, but he had no idea how. With this thought in mind, he gently declined the general store girl’s invitation and left the shop.
…
That night, Bart decided to take a small adventure and entered a different restaurant than his usual place.
As soon as he entered, a middle-aged man who seemed to be the owner called out, “Sit wherever you like!” The small shop had only one other worker, a young woman.
Bart sat at an available seat and looked over the menu hanging on the wall. As he was deciding what to order, the woman brought him a glass of water.
“Have you decided on your order?” she asked.
“Ah, um… I’ll have the steamed fish, stew, and some bread.”
“Alright, please wait a moment,” she said with a smile before heading back to the kitchen.
The woman was about Bart’s age, maybe a little younger. She might have been the owner’s daughter. Though she wasn’t a striking beauty, she had a warm and kind demeanor.
For Bart, who was often eyed greedily as a “handsome, high-status catch” by women in Retvik, her gentle smile left a strong impression.
Before long, the food arrived, and Bart started eating.
The steamed fish and bread were just ordinarily good, but when Bart tasted the stew, he was a bit surprised. The flavor brought back memories of his childhood.
Bart had been born an orphan in a city, surviving on the church’s soup kitchen meals until he was picked up by a mercenary group around the age of 10.
One of the kind people who had cared for him then was an elderly nun, who had also been in charge of the soup kitchen. The flavor of this stew was remarkably similar to hers.
It was probably just a coincidence, but for Bart, unexpectedly tasting this “motherly flavor” made the meal more satisfying.
“This stew was really delicious. It reminded me of the taste of home,” Bart said.
“Oh, really? Thank you,” the woman responded with a kind smile as she cleared the dishes.
“Is your home far from here?” she asked.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever go back. I was an orphan, and a lot has happened since then.”
“I see… I’m sorry if I made you recall something painful.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m the one who said something weird.”
Tasting a nostalgic flavor had probably caused Bart to relax a little too much, making him say something that unsettled the woman.
“…What part of the stew reminded you of home?” she asked.
“Well, it was a bit sweet and had a thick consistency. The nun at the church, who used to cook for us orphans, made stew like that. She’d add a lot of lentils so we’d be more full… Ah, I’m rambling again.”
Feeling embarrassed, Bart chuckled awkwardly, quickly paid for his meal, and left the restaurant.
・・・・・
After some time had passed, Bart once again visited Retvik for his usual supply transportation job and, as before, stopped by that restaurant.
Though he felt a little embarrassed due to the conversation he had during his last visit, his desire to savor that nostalgic taste again won out.
The same female employee seemed to remember Bart. When she saw him enter the restaurant, she gave him a small, amused smile.
Bart, slightly flustered, smiled back at her before finding an open seat, and as expected, he ordered the stew again.
Soon, the stew was served. Bart scooped up a spoonful and took his first bite.
Mixed in with the vegetables were lentils—something that hadn’t been in the stew during his last visit.
The flavor of the stew was even closer to the one Bart remembered from his childhood. It was almost the same.
The kind face of the gentle nun, which he could barely recall, seemed to come back more clearly in his mind.
As Bart finished his meal, savoring each bite, he spoke to the woman when she came to clear the dishes.
“…I see there are lentils in it today.”
“I remembered what you told me last time, so it’s a little extra from me,” she said with a playful smile.
“Thanks. But why go through the trouble…? I don’t think I’m a regular here just yet.”
“When we talked before, you looked a bit lonely. I thought it might help to see you smile, even just a little.”
The smile she directed at Bart was filled with pure kindness, without any hidden motives.
Bart glanced at her left hand. There was no ring on her finger.
“Do you… have a boyfriend?”
“Huh? No, I don’t…”
“Then… um, would you marry me? I swear I’ll cherish you and make you happy.”
Before he realized it, Bart had already said the words.
…
“So, your name is Michelle. You’re originally from Retvik, and you’ve moved here to marry Bart?”
“Y-yes!”
At the gatehouse of Noeina, Noein was meeting with the latest hopeful immigrant.
Behind Noein, as usual, stood Mathilda and Pence, his bodyguards. In front of him was Michelle, the new arrival, who looked nervous. Beside her sat Bart, who had brought her from Retvik.
“There’s no need to be so nervous, Michelle. Lord Noein is a kind man,” Bart reassured her with a sweet smile, his gentle voice calming her. Michelle leaned subtly toward Bart in response.
Seeing this, Noein continued, feeling a bit exasperated internally.
“If you’re marrying Bart, you’ll be living at his place, so there’s nothing more to check or process. Bart can explain everything about the territory to you.”
“Yes, leave it to me.”
“Well then, that concludes the immigration interview. Congratulations on your marriage, and I wish you both happiness.”
After thanking Noein for his blessing, Bart and Michelle left the gatehouse, walking affectionately together.
“…Damn, even Bart finally got married.”
It was Pence, the last of the former mercenaries to remain single, who muttered this under his breath.
“I heard he proposed to her on the spot without even dating. And she accepted right then and there. That’s Bart, the ladies’ man, for you.”
One day, Bart had returned from Retvik and suddenly announced, “Next time I come back, I’ll be bringing my wife from Retvik.”
When they heard the story, it turned out that Bart had proposed to the daughter of the restaurant owner after just a few brief conversations, and she had immediately said yes. It was a whirlwind marriage, yet they were already so close, showing Bart’s undeniable knack for charming women.
“That guy used to casually mess around with flashy women, without any strings attached. And now he’s marrying a sweet, homely girl? Life is unfair, I tell you.”
“Come on, you don’t need to be so seriously jealous. If you really struggle to find a wife, Pence, I’ll help you out. I could put out a call in the territory. We’re bound to find someone for you.”
When Noein said that, Pence imagined the scene: Noein issuing an official proclamation as the lord, “Urgently seeking a wife for squire Pence.” It would be utterly humiliating.
“…No thanks, I’ll handle it myself.”
“Alright then, good luck. I look forward to hearing some good news.”
Even though Noein offered his support, Pence couldn’t help but sigh at his seemingly dim prospects of getting married anytime soon.
