The Unwanted Perfect Husband

Chapter 11

That afternoon, just before three o’clock, Marcus called Thaddeus into the manager’s office.

On the desk already lay a thick envelope containing three thousand dollars in cash. Marcus’s face was still tense, but he no longer dared to act as arrogantly as usual.

“This… is your bonus,” he said, pushing the envelope forward. “Now answer me, Thaddeus. How did you master the Seven Knife Shadows? That technique is only taught to selected students. You never even entered the advanced weapons class. So… how?”

Thaddeus took the envelope without saying a word. He slipped the money into his pocket with calm movements, then looked at Marcus for a moment. His eyes were flat—unreadable.

There was no answer. Because even he himself did not know how it had happened.

He simply gave a brief nod and walked out.

Marcus stood in the doorway, mouth open, but no words came out.

In the kitchen, several coworkers exchanged glances. No one dared to ask. A few of those who had seen the technique that morning still looked pale.

Thaddeus took off his apron, washed his hands at the sink, and left without looking back.

The clock showed exactly three in the afternoon, which meant his work for the day was already over.

He did not go home. Instead, he headed to the taxi stand at the end of the street—the one specifically for passengers going to the mountain region.

“To the Northern Mountains,” he told the jeep driver who was already waiting. “Martial Arts Academy.”

The driver gave a short nod.

The journey was easy. The paved road was in fairly good condition, only beginning to wind a little as it climbed. Inside the gently rocking jeep, Thaddeus sat silently, gazing out the window. Pine trees started appearing along the roadside.

He recalled his old days at the academy. He had always been considered the weakest student in his batch. All he could do was cook. He had never won a sparring match. Even his mentor rarely looked at him. So why had that rare technique come from his hands as if he had trained for years?

In exactly one hour, the jeep reached the main gate of the Northern Mountains Martial Arts Academy. The air above was much colder and cleaner. A thin mist still veiled the slopes. The scent of damp earth and pine needles was strong.

Thaddeus got out, paid the driver, and stood for a moment in front of the large stone gate—weathered but still solid.

He was just about to step inside when something made him stop completely.

On both sides of the path leading to the main building, students stood in neat rows. These were not ordinary students. They were the elite—sons and daughters of cultivator families, the ones who used to be arrogant and look down on kitchen students like he had once been. Their uniforms were neat, their hair tidy, their posture firm.

But now… every one of them had their heads bowed.

No one spoke and raised their heads. Only rows of backs bent perfectly on the left and right of the path, as if they were welcoming someone of great importance.

Thaddeus stood rigid. His breath caught for a moment.

“I–I’m… not an important guest,” he said quietly, almost stammering. “I’m just an alumnus. You… don’t need to do this.”

There was no reply. They remained bowed, backs straight, heads lowered—as if waiting for someone far higher than a former kitchen student who had always been ignored.

Thaddeus felt strange. Still, he chose to keep walking. His steps were a little hurried as he passed the unmoving ranks. He recognized some of the faces—seniors who used to mock him in the kitchen. Now they bowed in silence.

He headed toward the rear building, where his mentor usually meditated. The path was long, paved with flat stones that had grown slippery with age.

The large wooden door at the end of the path was slightly open, as if it had been waiting for his arrival.

Inside, a man in his eighties stood waiting. He wore a red robe. His hair had turned white at the temples, yet his body remained upright.

Mentor Gu Hai.

The mentor bowed slightly. Only a little, but enough to make Thaddeus freeze in surprise at the threshold. The gesture was not ordinary formality. There was genuine respect in it.

“Mentor…” Thaddeus’s voice was hoarse. His throat felt dry. “What is actually going on? Why is everyone outside… and why… are you bowing to me? I was only your student once. The weakest one.”

Gu Hai slowly straightened. His eyes met Thaddeus’s with a mixture of respect, relief, and something deeper—like someone who had been waiting a long time.

“Welcome, Young Master.”