Pretending to Be Human Is Exhausting Again Today - Chapter 21

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

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Pretending to Be Human: Episode 021

“Does your body weaken every time you use magic?”

“I’m not entirely sure. The Princess says she’s fine, but… seeing her bleed like that, I can’t imagine it’s normal.”

Liribel gazed at the discarded handkerchiefs with a melancholy expression. There was enough blood to fill several cups.

I could only imagine how desperately Deina had worked to dispose of them without drawing attention, and to keep the bloodstains from touching her dress.

“That’s probably why she doesn’t use magic in her daily life.”

‘Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen the Princess use magic.’

She had revealed her magical power and shown her true form before, but that wasn’t magic in the conventional sense.

I had wondered if she’d forbidden herself from using magic because of the pretense of living as a human, but it seemed Ruslara had greatly misunderstood.

“Then… she bled like this because of me?”

“It wasn’t solely for that reason.”

Liribel shook her head as if to tell me not to burden myself with guilt.

“The Princess dislikes embellishing her own actions. She’s always been that way.”

“Always been?”

For example, Liribel explained an incident that had occurred at the Separate Palace.

“There are servants who come from outside to work. Those children handle laundry deliveries during winter, but suddenly the Separate Palace’s laundry decreased. The Chamberlains at the Separate Palace had suddenly dwindled.”

Liribel added that after Deina’s resurrection, people wracked with guilt had quit.

“But without that work, those children can’t earn their wages. Most of them are in difficult circumstances, so they might starve through the winter if things went wrong. That’s when the Princess appeared.”

“Did she give them charity?”

Did that mean she performed a good deed by giving money to those struggling children? Liribel shook her head at my question.

“No, it’s the opposite. You gave me work to do. You suddenly decided to do a deep cleaning of the Separate Palace, and ordered me to wash all the carpets, curtains, and bedding, remember?”

Thanks to the countless loads of laundry going back and forth to the Laundry Service, the children were able to earn enough wages to survive the winter.

“So when I told the Princess that she was amazing, she smiled bitterly and said this to me.”

‘If I were truly a good person, I would have sold my own possessions to help those children. I only practiced hypocrisy for my own satisfaction. I’m not amazing.’

She was saying that I wasn’t kind—that I had merely cowardly offered a small act of goodness and called it enough.

“…That’s so like the Princess.”

“Right?”

It was a manner of speech characteristic of Deina—asserting evil even to those she had helped.

“Such things happened frequently over the past month. So I made a vow. I would stay by the Princess’s side. There’s no superior as kind as she is.”

And so, Liribel looked down at the blood staining her hands.

“Don’t carry guilt. Instead, help the Princess as much as she has helped you. That’s what she would want.”

“…Yes.”

Hearing those words, I found my resolve. Ruslara smiled faintly in Deina’s face.

A Deity who would make such a sacrifice for a Subordinate she’d known for less than a month.

There could be no kinder Deity in all the world.

“Liribel.”

“Yes?”

“There’s somewhere I want to stop by. After the match today, will you help me?”

“If there’s anything I can help with, I’m happy to. But where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere to make me beautiful.”

“…Pardon?”

Ruslara spoke with the same self-assured confidence as Deina.

“Introduce me to someone who knows how to make me look absolutely beautiful.”

* * *

The match resumed.

The suspended match was the Round of 16, and winning the next two matches would conclude today’s competition.

In other words, I had two opportunities to perform today.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Armored Fighter returns to the stage! What kind of defeat will we witness this time?”

The Announcer seemed to have already decided on my defeat. Though, considering the flow of the matches, it was hardly surprising.

‘I don’t like that commentary. I’ll have to reclaim the dojo.’

Somehow, Liribel’s manner of speaking had become second nature to me. I chuckled softly within my helmet, standing on the half-ruined Arena floor as I studied my opponent.

“I thought you’d run away, but you came back. Did you want to show how pathetically you’d lose?”

“…”

My confident opponent’s arrogance was plainly evident.

But rather than respond to the provocation, I was calculating how to secure victory.

‘Winning decisively in one blow won’t work, will it? If I win by the narrowest margin, those targeting Ruslara will grow frustrated.’

They likely believed without question that I would lose this match as well.

‘So the best approach would be…’

Then, an idea struck me.

It was somewhat crude, but simplicity was always best in these situations.

“Then— let the match begin!”

The moment the Announcer rang the bell, my opponent charged at me with confidence and swung his sword.

A beginner’s attack I could dodge with my eyes closed. Even Ruslara at full strength would have evaded it easily.

But I chose to….

Crash—!

“Ah! The Armored Fighter! It seems he lacks the strength to evade the attack! He’s taking it helplessly!”

I took the blow head-on, deliberately.

I neither dodged nor blocked.

I felt my armor crumple under the force of the heavy slash. It was a powerful enough strike to have shattered ribs in an ordinary human.

‘Right, I should stagger as if wounded.’

I performed a wobbly, unsteady movement. My opponent, now emboldened, continued to swing his sword.

“Haha! How do you like that! You can’t even scream!”

His blade struck my body repeatedly—ribs, shoulder, head, legs—as if hacking at a scarecrow.

My armor continued to deteriorate, but I paid it no mind.

After all, I had wrapped my body in magical energy.

I felt only the impact of cotton batting pressing against my body.

“Cough!”

Still, using magical energy meant I coughed up blood intermittently. With blood streaming from my helmet, the performance became quite convincing.

…And those meaningless blows and bloodshed continued for half an hour.

“Is he… going to die like this?”

“Why won’t he just collapse? Why is he still standing like that….”

The audience began to murmur, sensing something was amiss.

Regardless, I accepted the onslaught with dignity. Naturally, I made no counterattacks.

To their eyes, I must have appeared as a warrior of indomitable will, enduring agony through sheer determination.

“Gasp, hack! You madman, just admit defeat! You’ll actually die at this rate!”

‘Perhaps he’s actually quite a decent person.’

For someone who spoke so arrogantly, he possessed a surprising depth of compassion to worry about me.

I opened my mouth to signal him not to worry needlessly and to continue fighting.

“I haven’t… lost yet.”

But the voice that emerged was pitiful. Blood clung to my throat.

As a result, the Intruder’s face grew even paler.

“W-what’s a tournament championship worth… there will be other opportunities!”

“…Come on.”

“I-I give up! I’m done! If you die, it’s not my responsibility!”

Realizing that persuasion would not work, the Intruder swung his sword with full force to finish me.

‘This should be about right now.’

I seized the moment and gripped my sword. And just as his blade descended toward my head.

“You’ve done well.”

“…!”

With a brief farewell, I struck his jaw with my blade.

The blunt blade left no wounds. Instead, the Intruder collapsed entirely from the tremendous impact that rattled his skull.

Those lacking skill would have seen him fall of his own accord.

“Ah, oh no! The competitor has suddenly collapsed!”

Behind the Announcer’s dramatic outburst, the Referee approached to verify the opponent’s condition. Confirming unconsciousness, he declared my victory.

“V-victory! Armored Fighter!”

Unaccustomed to such an anticlimactic conclusion, the spectators offered no cheers.

Feeling somewhat awkward, I raised one hand and waved it in a gesture of ceremony.

‘I’ve been standing too long. My strength is waning.’

Contrary to my intention to move with vigor, my arm trembled weakly.

Then I caught sight of the Princess seated at the Hosting Seat—Ruslara.

She sat with quiet composure, her gaze fixed upon me, yet her hands resting upon her lap quivered visibly.

She gripped them so tightly that her fingers had turned deathly pale.

Liribel beside her was on the verge of tears.

‘What is wrong with them?’

Did they truly believe I would lose?

I waved my hand once more to assure them there was nothing to fear.

“….”

Yet their expressions only grew more somber.

‘I must win one more match to conclude today’s tournament. Surely that will be manageable?’

Hoping to dispel any misunderstandings, I departed from the Arena.

“The Armored Fighter! Another victory drenched in blood! What obsession could possibly drag him from death’s abyss into the Arena? The Arena itself is painted crimson, and yet he refuses to fall!”

And as expected, I repeated the same strategy in the second match, watching as Liribel and Ruslara’s faces grew increasingly ashen.

Unable to comprehend their concern, I simply waved my arm again, basking in the roaring applause of the crowd.

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

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