Pretending to Be Human Is Exhausting Again Today - Chapter 8

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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 008

 

Once the practice match concluded, the athletes dispersed to their respective rest areas. As they passed by, they cast derisive glances at the Armored Fighter, as though his appearance was utterly laughable.

 

The Armored Fighter, meanwhile, brushed the mud from his armor and trudged back last of all, his movements heavy and labored.

 

When I found myself unable to tear my gaze away from the Armored Fighter, Loreil asked with evident curiosity.

 

“If that athlete concerns you, would you consider sponsoring him?”

 

“Sponsoring?”

 

He nodded and elaborated on the sponsorship system.

 

“The Arena officially permits patrons to sponsor athletes. Should the athlete win the championship, the investment returns with considerably greater returns.”

 

“…That’s gambling, isn’t it?”

 

“One could certainly describe it that way.”

 

In essence, it was wagering money to predict the outcome of matches.

 

Of course, there were various other benefits as well.

 

The patron who contributed the largest sum could ascend the platform alongside the athlete upon his championship victory, or enjoy the privilege of meeting him in the athlete’s waiting room, among other perks.

 

Naturally, all popular athletes maintained a roster of dedicated sponsors.

 

“It is indeed the driving force behind the competitions. Because…”

 

“Patrons experience not only the thrill of wagering, but also the honor of victory itself. Conversely, those whose sponsored athlete fails to win taste defeat—which incentivizes competitive sponsorship accumulation. For the Organizers, it’s a convenient revenue stream through commissions.”

 

“…Precisely.”

 

Loreil’s eyes widened. He clearly hadn’t expected such worldly reasoning to emerge from my lips.

 

Yet the Armored Fighter’s true identity preoccupied me far more than his reaction.

 

“Loreil, if I were to sponsor him, would I then be able to meet with him directly?”

 

“It’s possible. Since he has no sponsor, a one-on-one match could be arranged.”

 

“Wouldn’t sponsorship from the Imperial Family be considered favoritism?”

 

“Not at all. Others have sponsored matches several times before. Besides….”

 

Loreil paused, choosing his words carefully.

 

“Your Majesty, do you have the funds to sponsor him?”

 

“…Ah.”

 

“Given your circumstances, it seems unlikely the Main Palace would provide financial support.”

 

The Emperor would never help me over something so trivial. To him, I was someone whose success would be convenient, but whose death would be even more so.

 

Faced with this unexpected obstacle, I fell into contemplation.

 

‘I can’t just pretend I didn’t see that Armored Fighter.’

 

I couldn’t ignore someone openly carrying the mark of the Demon Clan.

 

I wanted to investigate why he possessed that symbol, and more than anything, I wanted to correct that abysmal swordsmanship.

 

Whether we had a connection or not, I couldn’t bear to watch a soldier bearing that mark display such pathetic technique.

 

‘There’s only one option left.’

 

After a long deliberation, I made my decision. Casting aside all pride, I grasped Loreil’s sleeve.

 

And with eyes that gleamed (though hidden behind the veil), I spoke.

 

“Loreil, could you lend me some money?”

 

“…What?”

 

“We’re colleagues, aren’t we?”

 

So please, lend me a small amount with no interest and no collateral.

 

Loreil froze like a statue, his mouth hanging open in an uncharacteristic display of shock.

 

* * *

 

After all the complications, the trial concluded, and the next day arrived.

 

I returned to the Arena once more.

 

with the Emperor’s permission, I could leave the Imperial Palace without Loreil accompanying me.

 

time, I went with Liribel instead of Loreil. She carried a purse of gold coins in her arms.

 

‘I’m relieved he lent them to me so easily.’

 

The gold coins were borrowed from Loreil. Flustered, he had inexplicably flushed crimson, then pushed my hand away and said this.

 

‘Ah, I understand. So please release my hand.’

 

His expression was quite peculiar, but in any case, by morning a purse brimming with gold coins had arrived.

 

The amount was considerable. As befitted the heir to the Prime Minister’s Family, he certainly had a generous hand.

 

‘And he even assigned Guard Knights to accompany me.’

 

I glanced at the two Knights following behind me.

 

Knowing that I would be heading to the Arena alone, he had sent his own Knights as escorts.

 

‘Well, the Knights of the Separate Palace aren’t the sort to keep close at hand.’

the Separate Palace had its own Knights and Soldiers. They were not loyal Knights sworn to me, but rather those dispatched from the Main Palace.

 

In other words, they were individuals with the potential to be assassins.

 

Thanks to this, Loreil’s consideration was quite appreciated.

 

‘Though it is somewhat burdensome.’

 

Knights he sent were a middle-aged man and a young man with striking narrow eyes, and the younger one’s gaze in particular was rather ominous.

 

It seemed he had been tasked with monitoring me, for his gaze never wavered from my form.

 

Ignoring the sharp weight of his stare boring into my back, I stopped by the Arena’s office and submitted my patronage donation.

 

The staff member—a veiled woman—appeared flustered at first, but upon learning my identity, she hastily bowed and accepted the contribution.

 

From there, I made my way directly to the Rest Area where the competitors waited.

 

I had already learned from the staff that the Armored Fighter was inside.

 

“Liribel, wait here for a moment.”

 

“Ah, yes!”

 

As I attempted to enter the Rest Area alone, the Young Knight who had been following me spoke up.

 

“Your Highness, Princess.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“The Rest Area has only the competitor inside. It would be somewhat… improper for Your Highness to enter alone.”

 

He had a point—a man and woman alone in a room would certainly invite unwanted scrutiny.

 

I hesitated, uncertain how to proceed, when the Middle-aged Knight beside us interjected.

 

“Are you going to meet with the Armored Fighter?”

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

“Then there is no problem whatsoever. No gossip will arise, so do not concern yourself—simply enter.”

 

“…?”

 

Though I could not fathom his reasoning, the Middle-aged Knight spoke with absolute certainty. He exchanged a brief word with the Young Knight, then stepped back.

 

Puzzled by his assurance, yet grateful for the convenience it afforded me, I silently opened the door to the Rest Area.

I was puzzled as to why it was okay, but anyway, since that was more convenient for me, I quietly opened the door to the Rest Area.

 

And there, in the sparse confines of the room, I encountered the Armored Fighter meticulously grooming his equipment.

 

He ceased his work and turned his gaze toward me. Despite being indoors, he wore his helmet, obscuring his face entirely.

 

I cleared my throat briefly and explained the situation to him.

 

“I am the Princess, Deina Ripeon. I have become your sponsor for this Arena competition.”

…Your Highness, it is an honor to meet you.”

 

Only then did he grasp the situation, offering a respectful bow. Strangely, his voice was higher than I had imagined.

 

“You are the fighter known by the nickname Armored Fighter, correct?”

 

“Yes, that is correct.”

 

“Will you not introduce yourself?”

 

“Ah.”

 

The Armored Fighter seemed to realize his oversight belatedly, momentarily flustered before slowly beginning his introduction.

 

“My name is Ruslara. I am thirty-two years old, unmarried, and I enjoy spicy cuisine. As for my salary….”

 

“No, no, there is no need to elaborate further.”

 

“Understood.”

 

When I cut him off from sharing excessive information, he bowed his head once more.

 

‘There is something rather peculiar about this person.’

 

The conversation had become bewildering from the very start.

 

I had intended to gradually inquire about his circumstances and ask questions regarding the competition to draw out information about his identity, but the moment I heard his introduction, I abandoned that approach.

 

It seemed direct questioning would be more effective here.

 

‘First, I need to block the sound from reaching outside.’

 

Since Loreil hadn’t followed me, no one capable of sensing magical energy would be present. I cast a soundproofing spell around the Rest Area, then spoke again to Ruslara, the Armored Fighter.

 

“I have a few questions. Would you be willing to answer them?”

 

“I was taught to treat my sponsors with courtesy.”

 

‘So that’s a yes.’

 

I cleared my throat and continued.

 

“There’s an unusual ornament at your waist. What is it?”

 

“An ornament…”

 

He stopped breathing for a moment. Then he lowered his head and fell silent for a long while.

 

“…I cannot speak of it.”

 

I exhaled softly at the response I had anticipated.

 

‘I’m not sure if he knows the true identity of that emblem and simply cannot speak of it, or if there’s another reason entirely.’

 

If that’s how it is, I’ll have to take a firmer approach.

 

I deliberately created a heavy atmosphere as I spoke.

 

“As your sponsor, I’m not pleased with my fighter using such an ornament. I’d prefer you wear the Sun God’s emblem during the tournament.”

 

“…”

 

“The Black Lion is far too ominous, isn’t it? Besides, it has nothing to do with victory.”

 

“Victory…?”

 

‘He reacted to that.’

 

I shifted my tone to something more aggressive, probing deeper into his true thoughts.

 

“I’ve heard that the Black Lion is a symbol of defeat. Isn’t the Sun God far more worthy than such a foolish emblem?”

 

“…Retract that statement.”

 

“What?”

 

“Take back those words. I can tolerate insults directed at me, but I cannot abide disrespect toward him.”

 

“Him?”

 

Could he possibly be referring to me?

 

I needed more information.

 

“So your master wears the symbol of such a loser? No wonder your performance is so mediocre. You really ought to develop better judgment in choosing whom to serve…”

 

“Stop—”

 

In that instant, Ruslara, who had been bowing his head, closed the distance between us in a single explosive movement.

 

“I said enough!”

 

His hand, laden with killing intent, shot toward me. Whether he aimed for my throat or my head, the speed and force were unmistakably lethal.

 

“Damn!”

 

Instinctively, I slipped my head to the side to evade the assault, and in the same breath, I drove my fist forward to meet him.

 

The counterattack was pure warrior’s instinct.

 

The problem was that I had successfully dodged his strike, while he had not evaded mine.

 

“Ugh!”

 

My fist, infused with mana, sent his head snapping violently to the side.

 

Crash—!

 

After tumbling across the ground several times, Ruslara crashed against the wall, his hand pressed to his cheek as he stared at me with a pathetic expression.

 

“…?”

 

Her expression betrayed utter bewilderment—as if she couldn’t fathom what had just transpired.

 

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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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