Pretending to Be Human Is Exhausting Again Today - Chapter 23

—————

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 023

Liribel and I made our way back to the Hosting Seat. After changing out of our armor and into formal attire, I couldn’t help but appreciate how much more comfortable the steel had been.

“So what does Ruslara want to say about her victory?”

“I didn’t catch that part.”

Liribel’s eyes rolled as she searched her memory.

“But she did mention that she’s going to look absolutely stunning for today.”

“…Stunning?”

“Yes, so she even asked me to recommend a beautician. I happen to know someone at the Main Palace Costume Department, so…” Liribel tilted her head, noticing my displeased expression. “Why that look?”

I couldn’t hide my unease.

“You know Ruslara isn’t human, right?”

“Yes, I heard she’s a fairy.”

“When those fairies go into important battles, what they call ‘makeup’ is something else entirely.”

“Like the war paint the northern tribes use?”

“It’s different from that.”

Unlike the northern tribes, whose war paint carried religious significance, the cosmetics used by the Baobhan sith were purely aesthetic—a celebration of beauty itself.

But why would they adorn themselves so on the battlefield?

‘To enchant their enemies.’

It was their strategy—wielding their own beauty as a weapon to secure victory.

Yet in the Arena, competitors fought helmeted, leaving no opportunity to display such allure.

So then… who was Ruslara preparing her beauty for?

‘Besides, if I reveal my face, my age will be exposed too. People would assume the Armored Fighter who’s been battling in the Arena for decades is middle-aged, wouldn’t they?’

I gazed down at the Arena, my mind swirling with doubt.

-The final match! The battle to determine our ultimate champion begins now!

The championship bout was commencing at that very moment.

* * *

Ruslara lifted her head, surveying the Spectator Stands.

The roar of the crowd—something she hadn’t heard directed at her in decades—washed over her.

“Win this, Rosten! My entire paycheck is riding on you!”

“This time you’ll do it, Armored Fighter!”

In another time, she might have been moved to tears. She might have felt her heart swell with the triumph of finally reaching this pinnacle.

But now that she knew the truth, it all felt hollow and false.

‘Among them are those conspiring for my defeat.’

Her fellow Baobhan sith, eagerly awaiting her downfall.

Ruslara gripped her sword and shield tightly.

The divine energy embedded in her weapons drained her strength. Like intoxication, her power ebbed away, and her will to fight withered.

Had Deina not revealed that divine energy was the culprit, I would have attributed this helplessness to nerves and poor conditioning.

‘Who would have suspected the weapons themselves?’

I had entertained suspicions—perhaps someone had cursed me, or perhaps the Arena itself harbored some sinister enchantment.

But as a Baobhan sith sensitive to magical currents, I was certain no such trap existed.

So I had concluded that this was entirely my own failure.

That meager confidence had created this ridiculous spectacle.

“…I won’t fall for it twice.”

She steadied her breathing with deliberate effort and fixed her gaze upon the opponent who had ascended to the finals.

His name was Rosten, his epithet the Captain.

He had debuted in a grand Arena where hundreds competed, and earned that title by claiming the championship at the youngest age.

‘Had I won the championship, I would have earned a different epithet.’

The Armored Fighter—a name born from never removing my helmet.

I could have removed it whenever I wished, but the most glorious moment would be when I took it off to receive the medal around my neck.

I had never entertained the thought of revealing my face to humans, yet today was different.

‘I will win the championship and claim the medal.’

For my master, for my Deity.

It was time to discard the epithet of the Armored Fighter.

“…This is already the fifth time we’ve met this way, Armored Fighter.”

While the Announcer droned on enthusiastically about the Captain’s record, he spoke quietly to Ruslara.

“It is an honor that you are my opponent in what will be my final match.”

“…Final?”

Though I intended to ignore him, the peculiar phrasing compelled me to respond. The Captain seemed delighted that Ruslara had answered, his voice brimming with excitement.

“It is my retirement match.”

“You don’t appear to be at an age for retirement.”

“I have already obtained sufficient honor and wealth. From now on, I intend to pursue my true dream—to become a Knight.”

A Knight.

It was the dream profession of every warrior who fought in the Arena.

‘Admittedly, someone of the Captain’s caliber could take the knight’s oath without difficulty.’

For a man with such an impressive record, it was a fitting retirement.

“I believe you are a far greater warrior than the public knows. Misfortune has followed you in every crucial match, but… you have always grown stronger.”

“…I appreciate that.”

Receiving such reluctant praise, the Captain spoke with an eager tone.

“So I have a proposal for you. Once this match concludes, would you not join me?”

“Join you?”

“I have spoken of you to the lord I shall serve. He expressed a desire to see you. Will you not become a Knight alongside me?”

“What?”

Such an unexpected proposal made Ruslara raise her voice involuntarily. She cleared her throat, worried her gender might be exposed, but fortunately the Captain seemed not to have noticed.

“I know your abilities better than anyone. With your skill, you could become a magnificent Knight. So leave this Arena and become a Knight with me.”

“Is this pity?”

“Hardly. If it were pity, I would never have spoken of it here.”

He seemed confident that she would accept his proposal. Had she not met Deina, she would have wavered at such an offer.

She too harbored a longing for knighthood.

Of course, the object of that longing differed from the Captain’s.

‘My loyalty exists only for my Deity.’

That Deity now stands beside me.

Therefore, Ruslara was not swayed by the word “Knight.”

“I don’t understand why you hold me in such high regard. But your eyes deceive you.”

“What?”

“I’ve already chosen my master.”

The strongest being in this world, watching me from above.

Just then, the Announcer was about to signal the start of the match.

Ruslara rekindled her fighting spirit, which had been dimming under the weight of divine energy, and took her stance.

“And you mentioned this was my retirement match, didn’t you? Let me apologize in advance.”

-Now, let the finals begin!

“For my final match will end in defeat.”

And with that, she charged fiercely toward the Captain.

“Ugh…!”

The final match of two warriors had begun.

The Captain hadn’t anticipated such a ferocious assault from Ruslara, and he hastily raised his shield to block her attack.

‘This is no easy feat.’

Though weakened by divine energy, the Captain was far superior to the other fighters. Even at full strength, I likely wouldn’t have defeated him easily.

“I see no other choice. If you won’t heed my words…!”

The Captain, recognizing Ruslara’s true resolve, rallied his own momentum. In an instant, the tide of battle shifted.

The Captain pressed forward with relentless attacks; Ruslara struggled merely to defend.

The outcome of the match seemed inevitable.

Yet Ruslara remained unflustered, persistently watching for an opening.

‘I only need to win once. Remember the training with Ivan.’

Ever since the Assassin Ivan became Deina’s subordinate, Ruslara had trained with him repeatedly.

She had won by exploiting gaps in his defense, but he was undeniably stronger than her. She had sought to learn from him, yet Ivan spoke with utter exasperation.

‘What could you possibly learn from sparring an assassin, you incompetent knight? For an assassin, victory is murder itself. There is nothing for you to learn from me.’

The combat of an assassin who claims a life with a single opening and the knightly duel that Ruslara aspired to were fundamentally different in nature.

Yet Ruslara did not relent. A warrior as lacking in skill as herself could not afford to be choosy about learning.

‘Cast aside a knight’s pride and seek instruction from an assassin? …Very well, then I shall teach you the assassin’s footwork.’

Ivan, seemingly not averse to her candid request, grudgingly imparted the techniques of assassination to her.

They were not extraordinary techniques, yet they proved sufficiently useful to Ruslara in her current state.

“Tch, what manner of footwork is this…!”

Evading the blade by the thinnest margin, yet never yielding distance and pressing in close with that peculiar movement, the Captain found himself bewildered.

To those watching from above, Ruslara appeared as though she were dancing.

‘My strength has waned, making defense difficult, but evasion remains possible.’

Had she been a true assassin, she would have driven a dagger home in the wake of that perilous dodge, but she lacked such luxury now.

Yet she persisted in hunting for an opening.

A single moment would suffice. Even against an overwhelming disparity that promised certain defeat, a single opportunity would inevitably arise.

That singular instant when the blade’s edge drew near.

‘The Captain ranks among the finest of warriors. Yet his weakness is unmistakable—his temperament is hasty.’

Overconfident in his own prowess, the moment frustration began to mount, he would grow desperate to end the match.

“I will show you no more mercy!”

‘Now is the moment.’

As anticipated, his weakness lay bare before me.

—————

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

—————