The Strongest Man’s Fake Wife Wants to Live Chapter 27

After the duke left, Pesha had expected Owen to at least say something about the party, but he didn’t say a word.

Not only that, he even looked peaceful, perhaps because the troublesome matter had been resolved.

Pesha was conflicted.

‘Is he really okay? Shouldn’t I turn it down even now?’

As far as she knew, the last time Owen had attended a party in the capital was the very party where she had openly rejected his engagement.

‘Wouldn’t anyone who went through something like that get sick just hearing about parties?’

Still feeling guilty about what had happened that day, Pesha hesitated for a long while before carefully sounding him out over dinner after they returned to their lodging.

“Um…… about the party at Duke Pontroy’s residence tomorrow.”

Owen, who had been eating quietly, only raised his lowered eyes to look at her.

“You don’t like parties and things like that, right……? You’re not forcing yourself to go, are you?”

“I don’t particularly like them, but if I’m needed, I should attend.”

“Ah…… yes.”

Pesha nodded awkwardly.

Owen gave a faint chuckle.

“You’ve been watching my reaction all day. Was that why?”

“What? Watching your reaction? I wasn’t doing that.”

Feeling caught, Pesha denied it with all her might, and Owen seemed willing to let it go, because he didn’t ask any further.

‘Maybe it’s because he’s a trained swordsman, but his instincts sure are sharp.’

In fact, she had spent the entire day wondering when she should bring it up.

Still, it was a relief that he wasn’t forcing himself to attend against his will.

He might be going out of obligation, but the nobles at the party might once again look down on Owen or commit some rude act while pretending otherwise.

Especially at a party where he might meet the woman who would become his real wife, there couldn’t be any such unpleasant incidents.

‘Even if we’re only temporarily husband and wife, if I don’t help him, who will?’

Pesha steeled herself and swallowed a piece of finely cut meat.

 

***

 

The birthday party of a wealthy man from a long-established founding family, who had a massive merchant guild under his thumb, was dazzling beyond words.

The interior of the mansion, lined with sculptures carved from high-quality marble and famous masterpieces that almost anyone would recognize, looked as though an enormous art museum had simply been lifted whole and placed inside.

‘Is this the real thing? It has to be the real thing, right?’

Pesha was internally agonizing over whether one of the famous paintings hanging on the wall was genuine or fake.

Just then, she heard a murmur behind her and turned around.

There were four or five women, whether noble ladies or young ladies, gathered around Owen and speaking to him.

“I’m sorry. We were walking while talking, so we didn’t realize there was a gentleman standing there.”

“You’re so tall that I thought a pillar had been standing there instead of a person.”

“By the way, what should we do about your clothes being wrinkled?”

The women in front were desperate to somehow get in even one more word, but the very person receiving all that attention merely looked bored and dismissed the situation with a short reply.

“I’m fine.”

Even so, the women didn’t go on their way. They continued standing there as though reluctant to leave, worrying about Owen.

“How can you be fine? Your clothes are wrinkled at such an important party!”

Wasn’t it simply that their arms had bumped while passing by?

Pesha couldn’t even tell where the supposedly wrinkled part was, but the women seemed awfully concerned.

Whether they were worried about Owen or worried that, if they parted here, they wouldn’t have another chance to speak to him, Pesha couldn’t tell.

Feeling Pesha’s gaze, Owen stopped responding even to the woman’s words and approached her.

“I kept you waiting. Let’s go inside.”

Pesha nodded and glanced at the women who had just been ignored by Owen and were walking away dejectedly.

Then she looked up at her temporary husband, who had always been handsome but whose good looks today were becoming almost too much to handle.

‘He’s incredible. Seriously.’

Because she thought that, to avoid being looked down on, they first needed to establish dominance through appearances, Pesha had instructed the maids to do their absolute best to dress up the Count on the day of the party.

She personally chose his clothes, accessories, shoes, and even gloves before handing them over to the maids. Yet the moment she saw Owen wearing them, her heart nearly stopped.

His brown hair, usually casually tousled, had been slicked back neatly with pomade, making it look almost like a low-saturation shade of blond, while his black eyes, usually lowered with an impassive expression, seemed a little languid today.

They had merely tidied him up a little and put him in sophisticated clothes, but once his already handsome appearance had been polished to perfection, he was almost dazzling.

Perhaps thanks to that, ever since they arrived at Duke Pontroy’s residence, the nobles had been busy sneaking glances at Owen without even being able to properly meet his eyes.

Whether they recognized him as Owen Namoi or not, there wasn’t a single person who passed by without looking at him at least once.

She had indeed wanted to make it difficult for people to approach him carelessly, but she hadn’t intended to attract this much attention.

Pesha clicked her tongue at the conspicuous yet restrained enthusiasm from the people around them.

In fact, this was already the third time he had been stopped like this on their way to the party hall, so it no longer surprised her.

Whether he knew the disappointed women were watching or not, Owen strode right past them, took Pesha’s hand, and continued walking as though he had no interest whatsoever in the situation unfolding around him.

‘Come to think of it, this man really doesn’t hesitate to hold a woman’s hand.’

The first time, she had thought he had merely offered his hand because he wanted her to leave with him. But ever since then, whenever they had somewhere to go, he naturally took her hand. She couldn’t tell whether it was simply an unconscious habit or whether holding a woman’s hand just didn’t bother him.

In any case, when they entered the hall where the party was being held, Pesha saw a sea of people packed inside.

“Aren’t all the nobles in the capital here?”

Pesha lightly joked with a laugh, but Owen answered with a serious expression.

“That’s not far from the truth. You might lose sight of me inside, so don’t stray too far from me.”

It wasn’t as though she were a child. There was no way she would get lost inside a hall.

“Of course not.”

But Owen didn’t let go of her hand from that moment on.

Pesha drank and ate while holding his hand like that.

She had come prepared to protect Owen from the razor-sharp tongues of high society, but as time passed, she felt as though she was the one being protected instead.

No, to be precise, it felt as though some sort of wall had been placed between her and everyone else. From the moment they entered, there were few people who approached them first or even gave her a sincere response.

How strange.

‘At this rate, I’m going to leave without meeting anyone.’

Of course, that couldn’t happen, so Pesha tried to drag Owen toward a more crowded area.

Just then, a familiar name reached her ears from among the bustling crowd.

“Miss Clark, you look absolutely beautiful today as well.”

“I don’t know how your hair can be so lovely.”

“Would you care to dance with me?”

The Marquis Clark family had only one daughter, with two sons besides her.

Io Clark.

Her childhood friend, who had gone from being treated like an unwanted child to being revered as a precious purification mage, had appeared.

Her glossy black hair, round and gentle eyes, and small, delicate frame—

Io looked exactly as she had the last time Pesha saw her.

Gracefully deflecting the advances of the young noblemen approaching her, Io was captivating everyone around her with her elegant yet warm demeanor.

“Thank you for the compliments. Ah, as for the dance……”

Io was smiling as she responded to the men approaching her when her eyes happened to meet Pesha’s, and she stopped speaking.

She seemed momentarily dazed at the sight of her childhood friend, whom she was meeting again after such a long time.

Meanwhile, Pesha was delighted and excited to see that Io recognized her immediately.

Pesha gave her a small wave to let her know she was there, and Io, whose cheeks had turned red—perhaps because she was hot—sent the people around her away before approaching them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Io Clark.”

And then she greeted Pesha shyly, as though they were meeting for the first time.

What was she doing?

Confused, Pesha looked to the side to see if there was someone else besides herself.

And then she realized that standing beside her was Owen Namoi, who had been dressed up even more impeccably than usual.

“Ah!”

Pesha let out a short groan and quickly pulled her hand away from Owen’s grasp.

Io held out the back of her hand as though asking Owen to take it and kiss it, while Owen silently looked down at her.

Pesha secretly covered her mouth.

‘Looks like they fell in love at first sight.’