The Peaceful Life of a Maid Who Hides Her Power and Enjoys It

<Episode 36> 

Jean’s sword resonated in its scabbard.  

• I’m coming! Whoever the enemy is, I’ll wipe them all out.  

Befitting the fierce sound, its owner’s spirit too sharpened. 

Jean took a deep breath and then flashed open her eyes. 

“I will not refuse your kindness!”  

A new version of Jean flew towards me. Both her posture and toes were perfectly neat and concise. Therefore, it was even easier to avoid her. Jean wielded her sword with such power that the words mock-duel had been put to shame. Her attacks were so rough that I could feel the heat of the air that the blade of the sword cut through as it brushed past me. 

In such a case, I had no choice but to hit my opponent’s hand or sword to strike it away. 

“Ugh!” 

She was so serious while talking that it seemed like she had no emotions. 

‘But if she gets hit even once, she stares at her opponent like she wants to kill them.’  

And it wasn’t anger at the enemy who’d attacked her. Rather, it was anger at herself for not being able to avoid my attack on time. 

‘She’s scarily demanding of herself.’ 

Jean, who’d been forced to fall back several times now, did not rush in energetically this time. Instead, she slowly adjusted her posture. 

“Whoa.” 

 It was always good to recover your strength by catching a breath instead of wallowing in despair. In addition, Jean knew how to make use of the gap. Every time she stopped to catch her breath, she scanned me with a piercing gaze, and made sure to try to catch my movements. 

Jean’s appearance made me smile a little. 

‘You really love swordsmanship.’  

But I couldn’t help it. She was the sword saint’s disciple. 

‘I’ve seen the Duke’s swordsmanship in action hundreds of times.’  

I was even standing by him when he reached the level of swordmaster. 

Jean had learned, mastered, and refined that style of swordsmanship – so I couldn’t help but predict the path of her sword. 

 “Heuk.” 

Jean staggered back after a vain series of attacks. Of course, if I wielded my sword even once, it would help boost Jean’s morale. But I didn’t want to do that. This was the duke’s sword, and somehow, It felt weird.  

However, I could not avoid her forever.  

It was a good tactic to exhaust the opponent, but I was reluctant to continue it because it was a waste of time. Then, there only remained one other option. 

‘Make her fall so hard that she can’t get up.’  

I grasped the scabbard on my right properly. Jean, who noticed my movement, bent to her side, probably thinking I was going to draw my sword. 

“Sorry.” 

I didn’t unsheathe my sword. Instead, I thrust the scabbard I held in my right hand to the front of me. The end of the handle hit Jean’s abdomen as it was.  

“Ugh.” 

I didn’t miss the moment she stepped back and turned the still-sheathed sword around with my left hand to strike the top of Jean’s head.  

Very hard. 

Puck! 

“Agh!”  

Oops. What a scream.  

Jean, who shut her eyes tightly, could not bear the pain and fell to the floor. 

“Your ankles are next. If they both get hit, you won’t be able to walk without crutches for a while, alright?” 

Jean glared at me with tears threatening to stream down her face. I kindly explained the next injury I planned to give her should she not back down.  

“After the ankles is your wrist. You won’t be able to hold even a fountain pen for a month.” 

Jean must’ve already realized the difference in skill between me and her. But she was someone who lives and dies by the sword. Would she persist and risk her wrist even while knowing the difference in our skill levels?  

The precious wrist that let her hold a sword? 

 Jean, who was trying to control her rough breathing, closed her eyes with a miserable expression. 

“…I lost.”  

It was a very rational declaration of defeat for a swordsman. 

I was initially going to leave a few words of advice about the sword she was wielding, but I shut up. She was a swordsman who had that person as her teacher, who was I to give her advice?  

Jean, who took the duke’s sword back, sighed as she asked, 

“May I ask you a question?” 

“You can ask me two.” 

“How can you achieve that level at that age?”  

Age, huh? Was the Viscount 20 this year? I shook my head resolutely. 

“I can’t.”  

I didn’t learn this much at 20. This was a fake age.  

Besides, I’d never learned the sword properly. This was one of the reasons I was embarrassed about the term ‘sir.’  Because these were the crude survival skills I’d gained by rolling around, injuring myself, and surviving on the battlefield for 10 years. 

“But the viscount…”  

“I learned the sword the wrong way. I achieved results much earlier than others, but I am also paying the price now.”  

I put some seasoning on it, but I didn’t lie. I became strong in the battlefield, and in return, I died on the battlefield too, didn’t I? Luckily, I somehow crawled out of my grave, but I was still living a life with a time-limit of six years. It was a price in every definition.  

“What price?”  

“That’s a secret.” 

Jean, who lowered her head as if struggling to say something, hesitantly spoke out again. 

“Can I say one last thing?”  

“You may.” 

Then she looked at me with determined eyes. 

 “Viscount Weatherwoods. Please accept me as your disciple.”  

Huh. 

I once heard someone say that some swordsmen were not crazy because of their swords. They were just crazy to begin with. It seemed like the old saying was correct. 

“…did you misunderstand what I said? I’m pretty sure I mentioned that I learned the sword in the wrong manner. Or are you saying you wish to become stronger even if it means doing that?”  

“Yes.” 

“It’s a terrible thing, not an ideal! The sword should be wielded by you, not the other way around!” 

“…”  

“Have you forgotten already? The duke must emphasize this virtue too!”  

“It’s a terrible method for me too. But I would be willing to be wielded by a sword if it means achieving my goal. Being strong is more important to me. Faster than anyone else if possible. So please accept me as a disciple.” 

Even while declaring that she would go against her master’s teachings, her eyes did not shake at all. 

‘This is not a whim. She has a strong will.’  

Therefore, I refused more firmly. 

“I don’t want to.” 

“I will do whatever you want me to.”  

“What are you going to do for me with that demon-like sword, Miss Jean?”  

“Then just please let me clean and do the laundry.” 

“What? Why are you trying to take someone else’s job now…”  

“Otherwise, I have nowhere to go.” 

“Are you whining now after accepting the duel so enthusiastically back there?” 

“I am an orphan. I have no parents or siblings. I don’t have any friends. If you don’t accept me, all I’ll be able to do is starve day by day after being driven to the streets.” 

Why was she so shameless? No parents and nowhere to go. Wouldn’t me rejecting her be as vicious as saying ‘if you’re sick, you can go die.’? 

Rringggg- 

At that moment, a magnificent mechanical sound filled the space and the Black Ragel shook. The aircraft then began to slowly descend.  

“First come, first served?” 

Oh, that’s right. There was another event planned tonight. 

The airship seemed to have just arrived at its new destination, the Eastern Lake, Iregiel. 

Jean biting her lips, gave me a glare and said,  

“I’ll inform everyone that I was defeated in the mock duel. Don’t worry, as promised, I will leave the Berkeley Gratten family. After leaving the castle, I’ll come visit you, Viscount. Well then…”  

Jean descended the deck with a look of regret. 

“Tsk, Tsk.” 

You can try to come find me as much as you want, but it’s not like Viscount Weatherwoods will be what’s waiting for you. We’ll probably not see each other again until we die. 

“Anyways, this will prevent the assassin-butler from bailing on me.” 

In spite of how annoying it was, I went and fought a mock duel, so now the assassin-butler was enslaved to me until I find all of Dian Cecht’s relics….well, no, we’d have to work together as friends. 

Before I got off the deck, I watched the dark surface of the water beneath us for a moment. 

This was the Eastern Lake, Iregiel. 

If someone said it was an ocean, I would’ve believed them. Moreover, the shadow of the North Deus Mountains, which was dimly visible beyond the lake, was as steep as rumored.  

The Black Ragel was supposed to stay here at Iregiel until tomorrow and leave in the early morning the day after. Iregiel was the destination the noble council meetings were held at. The members of the noble council would stay with the regular passengers in their own respective residences tomorrow, but they would strengthen their ties through talks at the meeting.  

I went back to my private cabin. 

knock, knock. 

“Rue, are you there?” 

There was no answer, so I opened the door. However, my feet stayed rooted to my spot when the view beyond was revealed. The scene in front of me was so different from what I’d become used to at the Black Ragel that for a moment, I thought I’d come back to the Weatherwoods mansion.  

“Yes.” 

Rue was looking at me, having returned to his original body. 

That itself was not the problem. 

However, if a well-dressed lady was lying unconscious at his feet, it was definitely a big problem. 

Rue, you…!  

‘You finally caused an incident!’ 

I locked the door carefully and stealthily, just in case anyone saw what was going on inside. Then I approached the fallen lady and put my finger under her nose. Fortunately, she was breathing. 

I looked at Rue with very, very complicated feelings. Standing expressionless in the middle of the cabin, he smiled when his eyes met mine. 

 It was an eerie smile, bearing no shard of the loveliness that Morian Serenier held. 

“Why, are you disappointed that she’s alive when you assumed she was dead?” 

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