The Bride-Hunting Tale: I’ve Failed 20 Marriage Proposals Already. I Don’t Need Titles Like Dragon Slayer or Hero Who Saved the Nation—All I Want Is a Cute Wife!
“Natt—!?”
“Kyaahhh!”
“Kuh!?!”
Suddenly, the living room door burst open, and in came a massive figure nearly three leagues tall (about 2.4 meters), its entire face covered in thick fur and wrapped in a brown pelt.
The moment she saw it, Ris jumped up in a panic, reaching for her waist—but she wasn’t wearing her sword today, so her hand grasped only empty air.
Meanwhile, Sallyfe gasped in horror, while former Baron Bosch could do nothing more than grimace and remain frozen in his seat.
The knights on guard duty let out a startled “Oof!” as they instinctively took a step back, but quickly steadied themselves and placed their hands on their sword hilts. True professionals, well-trained soldiers indeed.
In an instant, tension filled the air of the living room. But just as quickly, it was shattered by a sharp sound that rang out immediately after.
“You! I told you to change before meeting guests!”
A woman’s firm voice scolded the towering creature, smacking its head with a wooden spatula about the size of a human leg.
“Itai! I-I mean, but listen! Fodilt brought friends over. As their father, I should at least come to greet them…”
“You already look like some kind of bear or monster no one can tell apart. If you don’t even clean yourself up a little, our precious guests are going to run away!”
While rubbing the spot where he’d been hit, the bear—or rather, my father, Lord Galisly Al Rester, Margrave—tried to make excuses. Right behind him, twisting her way into the room came a much smaller woman: Mother, Remielle, shouting at him with full force.
I mean… calling him a bear or a monster? Where’s the “human” part?
“I get it! I’ll change! I’ll go change right now!”
“And shave that beard too!”
Mom, did you really need that last kick?
Even though they’re my parents, it’s hard to believe this scene is real—the towering giant of a man, and a slender woman barely half his height bickering like that.
Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at Sallyfe and former Baron Bosch, who are still staring in shock, and try to suppress a sigh.
Honestly, I think one of the main reasons people call the Rester clan “barbarians from the frontier” is probably because of how Dad looks.
He’s got a build so huge even well-built knights have to look up to him, exuding wildness and intimidation… combined with rough, uncivilized behavior. Objectively speaking, he just looks like a barbarian.
The soldiers sent all the way from the capital to pick us up—actually, more like tagging along on a shopping trip—chose the more composed-looking ones among the group. The men who live in the vast forests governed by House Rester are generally all big, tough guys.
Among them, my father stands out both vertically and horizontally, a mountain of muscle covered in thick fur. Honestly, if not for what Mom said, you might mistake him for a bear.
…So why the hell am I so short?
“I’m very sorry. You must be shocked. Normally he dresses a bit better.”
I bowed my head toward Sallyfe and former Baron Bosch.
Of course, I was apologizing for my dad barging in unannounced and startling them.
It wasn’t just his appearance that surprised you, was it? Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, so I’ll ignore it.
“No, no—it’s fine. So that was His Grace, Margrave Rester? Ah, actually, it’s the first time we’ve met.”
Former Baron Bosch managed a smile despite his stiff expression.
Yeah.
He’s technically superior in rank and status, so of course he chooses his words carefully. I feel bad making him go through all this trouble.
“My idiotic lord of a husband has caused you trouble again. Welcome, travelers, to Rester territory. Umm, I suppose I’m Lady Remielle Al Rester, officially the Marchioness?”
She returned after shoving my father out of the room and offered formal greetings once again.
But seriously, even if you don’t usually have to introduce yourself, you shouldn’t doubt your own full name when doing so…
“On the contrary, we apologize for the sudden visit. I am Gilberaz Ouz Bosch, former head of the Bosch Marquisate. This is my granddaughter, Sallyfe.”
“P-pleased to meet you. My name is Sallyfe. We were invited by Lord Fodirdo, and honored to visit. P-please treat us kindly.”
Still flustered from the earlier loud scolding, the two responded somewhat awkwardly.
“It’s been a while. You may not remember me, but we met briefly at a banquet in the Imperial Palace about two years ago—I’m Risrante Meile Vols. I’ve selfishly joined Lord Fodirdo on this journey.”
Ris smiled gracefully and gave a polite bow.
“Oh my! Fodirdo brought such lovely young ladies with him! It must mean a horde of monsters will be charging in soon enough!”
That’s a terrible thing to say.
Why is it that mothers always seem to embarrass their sons in front of others?
Predictably, Sallyfe looked confused, unsure whether to agree or deny, offering only a strained, polite smile.
“In any case, we’ll be staying here for about ten days, so please take care of us. Just to be clear, during this time, Sallyfe and Ris—Lady Risrante—will need guidance, so I won’t be helping with any of the domain’s administrative work.”
“Ehhh! Ever since Foru-kun was coming back, that guy hasn’t done any paperwork for days. I bet the office staff will start storming in soon.”
“Just make Dad do it.”
When Mom tilted her head and suggested it, I rejected instantly.
Same old same old—Dad still tries to escape from desk work whenever he gets the chance.
Yet somehow, this domain hasn’t collapsed yet, thanks to a few capable officials. Still, every time merchants from Rester Territory travel to the Imperial Capital, petitions from those officials end up on my desk: “Lord Galisly isn’t signing anything, and everything’s backed up—we’re in trouble!”
Of course, I never knew about this, and now being stuck handling both imperial duties and local affairs from here is just inconvenient for me.
Since I haven’t inherited the family estate yet, my father is still the lord of the land—so he should handle all the responsibilities himself.