The Peaceful Life Of A Maid Who Hides Her Power And Enjoys It - Chapter 199

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 4

The Weatherwax Baroness, who had been quietly looking up at the sky, turned his head to look into my eyes.

“Conversely, a strong person is one who has nothing to protect. The reason the weak are weak is because they have things to protect. But the strong are different. Having nothing means no hardships, no adversity, no troubles.”

“…No hardships, adversity, or troubles. Do such people actually exist?”

“They’re everywhere under heaven. If you turn away from them, it’s as if they don’t exist, isn’t it? So Count Andert. I’d like you to struggle a bit more.”

It was an abrupt change of topic. I waved my once-severed arm and lamented.

“Have you already forgotten my arm that was cut off while I was struggling earnestly?”

The Weatherwax Baroness, who had been staring at me with an inscrutable expression, clicked his tongue briefly.

“You’re sometimes terribly dense in strange areas.”

He soon patted my shoulder as if offering casual words of comfort and stood up from his seat. With a few light movements, mud fragments fell from his black uniform. The following words carried a faint hint of laughter.

“Don’t you understand what it means yet? Our Count Andert is the knight I cherish most. Remember that well and don’t forget it.”

I thought this was another incomprehensible strange remark, and sure enough.

“Your Grace. Duke Kalpenweber has an urgent matter to report to Your Grace…”

“I’ll return immediately.”

“I shall escort you.”

I don’t know how they found him, but two or three Berkleighton Knights who had come to meet the Weatherwax Baroness were approaching.

Ah, he said that for those bastards to hear.

‘He’s really serious about tormenting people.’

I once had a falling out with the Pen Rota Young Nobles, but now all of that was in the past.

Even with Viscount Lagwhirten, who was no different from an enemy, things had changed to the level where we acknowledged each other, so practically we were all friends.

‘The exception is that only the Berkleighton Knights are prickly.’

Stubborn bastards. It’s even more ridiculous because I can guess why they act so sensitive. They undoubtedly think I’ve stolen their superior, the Weatherwax Baroness, from them.

You avoid shit because it’s dirty, not because you’re scared of it, right? I tried to leave before getting unnecessarily involved and seeing something disgusting.

“A bastard who’s busy flattering even after rolling around enough on the battlefield.”

But indeed, shit isn’t shit for no reason.

“Isn’t licking Raphael Jenail’s crotch enough? What a filthy opportunist.”

Do they think whispering like this won’t reach the Weatherwax Baroness’s ears? Or are they confident that even if it reaches his ears, everyone will pretend not to hear?

Yes, that’s right.

Normally, I would have just glanced at them once and not bothered to deal with them unnecessarily.

But people sometimes lose their self-control on unexpected days. For instance.

“I warn you for the last time. Don’t loiter in front of His Grace. If you catch our eye one more time…”

Like today.

Thwack-

This chewy texture of skin against my fist and the refreshing satisfaction. I felt no regret about abandoning patience. However, I felt slightly guilty toward the Weatherwax Baroness.

“You crazy bastard! Stop right now!”

No matter what, having a dogfight in front of your superior is disrespectful behavior, isn’t it?

“Hmm. Your arm really is fine.”

Well, the Weatherwax Baroness himself doesn’t seem to care much about it.

* * *

“Are you sane?”

The single sentence thrown out was like a half-forged blade. If conscience were skin, it was roughly shot to tear the area around the wound into rags.

I, who had been sitting obediently receiving examination, answered as if making an excuse. No, I made an excuse.

“As always, I didn’t start it. Those bastards picked a fight first…”

“You know that’s not the issue I’m pointing out, don’t you?”

Raphael’s second rebuke was also cold.

As soon as he set foot in the temporary medical tent, he approached with the momentum to strike as soon as our eyes met.

The atmosphere was so murderous that everyone who had been lying on cots and chatting all vacated their seats while watching him nervously. I have some sense too, so I couldn’t just brush it off thinking ‘This bastard is causing trouble…’

“Two months. That was the minimum, Andert. To restore your arm to normal, you needed to stay quiet for at least two months. But you couldn’t even keep half of the period I repeatedly emphasized?”

I kept sending pleading looks to Deshero, who was busy examining my arm, but the back of his head remained consistently cold.

In the end, I’m my own best lawyer, right? Huh?

“Two months is just talk – it’s been fine for a long time, Raphael. Have you forgotten how sturdy my body is?”

“Really? How confident. Let me check with my own eyes whether it’s truly fine.”

Shing. Along with a sound that made the back of my neck feel cold, Raphael’s beloved sword showed off its elegant form.

Ah, so dazzling! No, being dazzling isn’t the problem right now! While I was silently screaming in shock, Deshero sighed and looked up.

“Stop it, Raphael. Andert’s condition is much better than you’re worried about. His usual excellent recovery ability. Even a wild bear wouldn’t be this sturdy.”

Co-cold sweat…

‘Thank you, Deshero.’

Did he hear my mental words of gratitude? Deshero, who smiled while making eye contact, added in a voice that said it was no big deal.

“Of course, we’ll probably need to extend the caution period from two months to about two and a half months.”

Wait a minute.

“That’s for ordinary soldiers, and it probably doesn’t apply to Andert.”

Phew.

“However, this time Andert also suffered greatly almost to the point of losing his arm, so I think we need to keep watching…”

Wait a minute.

“Anyway, he’s not someone who would use his body just because he’s angry, so let it slide moderately. Didn’t His Grace the Duke resolve it well?”

Phew.

“Of course, if the victim of one-sided violence expresses great dissatisfaction, things could get troublesome…”

Fine, do whatever you want.

Deshero continued giving medicine and disease like that for a while, then handed me a candy from his pocket.

It was a salty candy that made me snap to attention, but because of the single comment that it was a gift from his younger sister, I couldn’t spit it out and had to endure the taste terror.

“Tsk tsk. It’s all your own doing, Andert. If you had fought with your feet instead of your hands, Raphael would have let it slide moderately.”

“Don’t instigate, Natasha.”

Natasha was rolling around in her mouth what was presumably candy received from Prince Ashcream or something, and asked.

“Didn’t you usually endure well? What made you cause such trouble today?”

I recalled the surge of emotion I felt at the time and roughly chose an appropriate answer.

“I didn’t like the way they looked at me.”

“What kind of look was it?”

“The look you give a shameless playboy who stole your woman. But now the look you give a bastard who has nothing left, making you even angrier.”

“Unnecessarily detailed.”

Natasha, who had been sitting with her chin propped up and quietly blinking, soon spoke in a somewhat contemplative voice.

“But that knight is also unexpected. To pick a fight with Andert in front of Duke Gishart. Are there still such bold people left?”

“Bastards who pick fights originally don’t choose time and place and just charge ahead.”

“That would be when the opponent is mediocre. A fool who would make such an absurd mistake even knowing that Duke Gishart particularly cherishes you… wouldn’t have even been able to join the Berkleighton Knights.”

Cherishes, he says. I’m getting goosebumps all over.

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