Pretending to Be Human Is Exhausting Again Today - Chapter 20

—————

This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

—————

Pretending to Be Human: Episode 020

* * *

The Arena had been turned upside down.

It was a literal inversion. Ruslara witnessed with her own eyes as the ground beneath her opponent buckled and overturned.

‘This power is….’

Ruslara, unaware that her strength was being sapped by divine energy, realized that all of this was Deina’s doing.

With the Arena torn asunder, the match came to an abrupt halt.

“Wait, we’re suspending the match! Security, check the spectators at once, and the fighters in the Arena—!”

The match had been forcibly stopped. I had been standing at the precipice of defeat.

My opponent clicked her tongue as she looked at me.

“Tch, you got lucky.”

She was right. I had no excuse. If Deina hadn’t intervened, I would have lost again and been cast down from the Arena.

‘I’ve received the Deity’s aid once more.’

It brought joy, yet simultaneously shame and sorrow.

Once again, I had failed to prove myself. Despite all the meticulous training Deina had provided, I couldn’t even reach the finals, let alone claim the championship.

‘I wanted to take revenge on those spectators who mocked the Princess.’

She is the only one who has ever supported me.

She is not someone you have the right to mock.

I have won this championship medal because she helped me.

I wanted to achieve such a dream-like success. I had even rehearsed my victory speech in my mind.

And yet, such a devastating defeat. Worse still, I had to rely on Deina’s help!

I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

“A-Armored Fighter! Please head to the Waiting Room first! I’ll guide you to your next match…!”

“…Yes.”

Following the staff member’s guidance, I shuffled back to the Waiting Room with heavy steps.

Whether disappointed in myself, Deina—who had been sitting in the Hosting Seat moments ago—was nowhere to be seen.

The moment I opened the Waiting Room door with slumped shoulders.

“Ruslara.”

Deina greeted me.

Having cast aside her veil, she regarded me with a stern gaze.

Without thinking, I lowered my head and spoke in a voice thick with tears.

“I apologize, Princess. I have failed once again. Someone like me doesn’t deserve to stand at your side….”

“Be quiet. Come here.”

“Y-yes?”

Deina suddenly pulled me close, then immediately began removing my armor.

“W-wait, Princess! No matter how disappointed you are…!”

“What are you talking about? Liribel! Remove those boots as well!”

“Yes!”

With an eager affirmation, Liribel stripped away my armor.

In an instant, reduced to my undergarments, I found myself sitting in a chair, utterly bewildered.

Deina exhaled deeply as she gazed at the scattered armor and weapons strewn across the ground.

“Ruslara, don’t you sense anything from these weapons?”

“Pardon? No, not particularly….”

“This is the problem with a generation that’s never experienced war. You sense magical power well enough, but everything else? Hopeless.”

Deina picked up a spare blade from the Waiting Room and held it up to her chest.

Then she applied tremendous force.

With a sharp crack, white liquid streamed from the shattered blade.

“This is….”

“Holy water. Concentrated, most likely.”

“Holy water?”

“Which means this is a counterfeit sacred blade.”

Deina added that while it possessed neither cutting power nor destructive force, it was the kind of sacred blade that weakened the Demon wielding it.

‘If that’s the case, then I….’

Ruslara’s memories surfaced—how I’d grown powerless in every important match.

I could never understand why new weapons were provided before crucial matches, but now this secret lay bare.

“Listen carefully, Ruslara. All your defeats were fabricated.”

After that, Deina began explaining rapidly.

Sacred weapons that weakened Demons.

The hidden agenda of the contract—to instill a sense of defeat.

The possibility that the Nobleman’s purchase of Baban Si’s Hideout was no coincidence, but rather calculated intent.

Overwhelmed by the crushing truth, Ruslara couldn’t gather her thoughts.

“Then… you’re saying our own kin betrayed us…?”

“That’s how it must be. There’s no way all of this could be coincidence.”

“That can’t be right.”

Yet even as I spoke, I could feel the truth of it in my bones.

‘How could I have missed this? If the hideout was exposed, suspecting an insider or a traitor should have been my first instinct. That’s what history taught me.’

Countless tales of war that my grandmother had recounted flooded through my mind. How could I have failed to make such an obvious deduction until now?

And worse—to have been played by my own kind, wasting over a decade in that wretched Arena.

“Ah… ahhh…”

Deina approached me as I hung my head in despair, and withdrew a handkerchief from her pocket, pressing it into my hands.

For some reason, the cloth was stained with blood.

“Don’t cry.”

Only then did I realize I had been weeping continuously since the Arena.

Deina gently wiped the dirt and dust from my cheeks, then spoke softly.

“This isn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself. Don’t regret.”

“But… if only I’d been smarter, stronger…”

“There’s nothing more foolish than a victim of malice blaming themselves. If you’re a warrior, then steel yourself.”

The word ‘warrior’ sent strength surging through my body.

“Am I… still a warrior?”

“Of course you are.”

Deina frowned, dismissing the notion as nonsense.

“You’ve been charging across hopeless battlefields for decades. Warriors like you are rare indeed.”

My war deity was acknowledging me as a true warrior.

With complete sincerity, no less.

The joy of it was overwhelming.

“H-hic… sob…”

“I told you not to cry, yet here you are.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Deina exhaled another sigh. Yet she did not fault me for weeping—she understood the weight of the moment warranted it.

As my tears subsided, Deina spoke.

“I’ve suspended the match temporarily through magic. Normally it would be cancelled entirely, but I’ve exercised my authority to resume it in thirty minutes. The spectators seem to prefer it that way.”

“Does that mean… you’re ordering me to fight again…?”

“Of course not. If you fight wielding such a weapon, even Mihilda couldn’t claim victory. That said, I’m not letting Ruslara be eliminated either.”

What in the world was she talking about?

I wouldn’t be competing, yet I wouldn’t be disqualified?

Deina’s lips curved upward as she watched my confusion.

“Baban Si’s disguise ability—it can be used on others, correct?”

“Ah, yes. Of course, the target must possess magical power, and the duration is limited, but…”

“Then apply it to me. And make me look like you.”

“…Pardon?”

“Instead, you’ll take my appearance and go up to the podium.”

Only then did Ruslara grasp Deina’s intention. With her mouth agape in shock, Deina spoke with absolute confidence.

“Anyone without considerable magical power won’t be able to wield that weapon. But I’m not just anyone.”

Of course—such trivial holy water would never work against Asmodina.

She was the one who had torn through the sacred carriage that Loreil had prepared with her bare hands.

“I wanted to remain human. I swore I would live as a member of the Imperial Family, as the Princess, as Deina. But this time, circumstances are different.”

Deina’s eyes gleamed with an ominous light. Her beautiful golden irises resembled those of a beast.

“If the interference comes from the Demon Clan, if a Demon targeted another Demon, then there’s no way to resolve this peacefully.”

“Then, surely you don’t mean….”

“I’ll show you what a real battle with magical power looks like.”

Asmodina’s overwhelming and formidable magical power—the kind that holy water could never touch.

Faced with her unwavering resolve, Ruslara found herself unable to speak.

* * *

Shortly after, Ruslara changed into Deina’s clothes. Before that, Deina, having already completed her disguise as Ruslara, headed straight to the Arena.

“I’ll be going now, Your Highness.”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“From now on, you should speak informally.”

“Got it.”

And after donning a veil and altering her face with her transformation ability, Ruslara left the Waiting Room with Liribel.

Having already heard the explanation of the plan, Liribel smiled and corrected Ruslara’s acting.

“When you walk, you need to take narrower steps. And keep your head down so your face doesn’t show through the veil.”

“You really do know a lot about this.”

“I’ve been studying hard about the Princess, after all.”

Faced with Liribel’s meticulous attitude—even explaining the proper finger length—Ruslara nodded with a slightly weary expression.

“Oh, let’s stop by the trash can for a moment on the way.”

“Why?”

“I need to throw something away.”

Liribel rushed over to the trash can tucked in the corner of the corridor and began disposing of something.

“That’s… blood?”

The contents revealed themselves to be dozens of handkerchiefs soaked in blood. The colorful fabrics, now dyed a vivid crimson, disappeared into the trash can.

“Yes, the Princess’s blood.”

“What? Is she hurt somewhere?”

At her alarmed response, Liribel offered a bitter smile.

Then, speaking in a hushed voice so no one else would overhear, she whispered:

“You didn’t know, did you? The Princess… she coughs up blood even from using minor magic.”

“…!”

Ruslara’s face drained of all color.

—————

This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

—————