The Peaceful Life Of A Maid Who Hides Her Power And Enjoys It - Chapter 323

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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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Part 2, Chapter 121

One of Spolia’s obsessions was exposing the shameful secrets of humans who caught his interest.

He believed that the essence of humanity existed in their shameful secrets.

By examining human shame, one could understand their essence, and by understanding their essence, one could know their potential for growth. For Spolia, this was also a factor in distinguishing talented individuals who could produce excellent offspring.

From that perspective, Raphael Jenail was a nearly perfect candidate.

Raphael Jenail had never walked a wrong path like his parents.

Though he had a somewhat unfortunate past, this could not be considered a shameful secret. Since most of the demigods Spolia knew were beings who had crawled up from hell, an unfortunate past was no different from sturdy wheels that would make a golden chariot roll.

His words and actions were always consistent. Though he had little interest in others, he did not turn away from the weak.

He understood the destiny of those with power. He was always prepared to sacrifice himself for his destiny, and this spirit of sacrifice was neither an injected mental illness nor pretense.

A complete hero without shameful secrets.

His successor would also likely be excellent with high probability. Spolia coveted this hero of the Eastern Continent who would be born only once in a century.

In comparison, what about Fake Andert Pager?

The fake was merely one among a somewhat outstanding crowd.

Though he possessed remarkable talent with the sword, he fundamentally had great distrust of humans and refused to have a master.

Under Raphael Jenail’s influence, he took the lead in protecting the weak, and under Princess Natasha’s influence, he easily gave affection to his companions, but it was all close to pretense.

He recognized that it was pretense and suffered from guilt, but he did not try to change.

He always built walls and remained alone within them. Despite the fact that one who leans on walls can never overcome them.

This was the fake’s limitation. His weak spirit could not keep up with his physical strength.

He even ended up becoming a Black Knight… A person not even worth considering as a candidate.

An unstable tumbler doll full of shameful secrets.

Though his actions might be somewhat cute.

Though it was a merciless evaluation, Spolia’s eyes occasionally, no, often, no, quite frequently lingered on him.

Perhaps it was because the fake was called Raphael’s sword and always remained by his side.

“I’ll take him.”

“Permission is unnecessary. I’ll handle this matter personally. Tell him it was my independent decision.”

After the fake’s final sacrifice was decided.

Was it because that name and face had been forcibly etched in his eyes? At the moment when his favorite play was about to end, he felt unusually irritated.

‘How foolish.’

In Spolia’s view, Mephistopheles’ fate was already sealed.

Though it would require a bit more sacrifice, if left alone, it was in a position to self-destruct. Yet to advance that timing by charging in alone.

Ordinary people should act according to their capacity.

Though he acknowledged the fake’s will and goodness, all courage and sacrifice are equally shattered before death.

He would run away.

Because he was not Raphael Jenail.

‘Should I bring him back?’

The sudden thought made Spolia fall into long contemplation.

If he were abandoned, he had the mind to pick him up.

Though he had the disadvantage of being unstable, the fake was certainly an outstanding talent for a fake. If he personally took him in and brought him to Legion, he would surely be useful.

Since he was cute, it would be fun to watch over him. With his good sociability, he would get along well with strangers from the first meeting.

Playing with him would be quite rewarding, and with his great courage, if he grew a bit more, he could be entrusted with important tasks.

Considering his attitude toward Raphael Jenail, he would show absolute trust and faith to him as well.

Of course, it was regrettable that he wasn’t a woman, but…

…Regrettable that he wasn’t a woman?

Suddenly, a sharp thorn seemed to pierce his temple, creating deep displeasure.

This vivid unpleasantness.

To be fond of someone who couldn’t even be considered a candidate. It felt as if his reason and judgment had rapidly declined.

He could not fall until he became a complete god.

If he withdrew his judgment, all that remained was watching the fake’s escape.

Watching uninteresting shameful secrets was not his taste. Irritated, Spolia turned his gaze away from the fake.

And the fake did not return.

It was strange.

‘Is he hiding?’

Should he wait a bit longer?

Not long after, Mephistopheles was annihilated, but the fake still did not return.

‘Has he already run away?’

The end of the war was declared.

Half a year, one year, two years… Time flowed endlessly, but the fake still did not return.

The Empire’s people revered Andert Pager as a hero of the Magical War, mourning his sacrifice together and commemorating it together.

Spolia could not understand it at all.

‘Did he truly die?’

Did he ultimately overcome his fear and sacrifice himself?

Why didn’t he run away?

Why wasn’t he afraid?

Spolia had an obsession with exposing people’s shameful secrets.

He would expose shameful secrets, examine them, judge them, be disappointed, and escape from love.

The reason he valued the other party’s shameful secrets was actually to lose love.

Spolia was always thirsty for love, but he felt fear toward love that was not complete and not destined.

Therefore, he always shattered love with shameful secrets. Because love that could be lost by shameful secrets was neither complete nor destined love.

Knowing this fact, yet not directly witnessing the fake’s final shameful secret with his own eyes…

It was probably just a whim.

Because gods are capricious.

But that moment when Spolia turned away was Andert Pager’s first flame.

It was the only sincerity that completely tore down the wall that had surrounded him for a full ten years.

It was the most beautiful moment!

Spolia walked as if enchanted and stood on Queen’s Island, which had turned to ash.

Thump. Thump.

‘Ah.’

His heart began to beat.

It was not an unfamiliar trembling. Yes, it was when he fell into such emotions that he used to expose the other party’s shameful secrets.

Thanks to this, Spolia had never once been submerged in this emotion. He had always, very easily, become free from excitement.

Could he do so this time as well?

Would this love also be a failure?

‘Damn it.’

How could that be possible?

How could he become free from someone whose shameful secrets he knew all too well, and who had already left?

Spolia sighed.

And at the same time, he rejoiced.

This was love.

This trembling was surely the perfectly destined love he had earnestly waited for through long years!

My goodness, Spolia was ready to die forever immersed in this ecstatic rapture.

For dozens of days, he fully enjoyed and felt the unfamiliar longing for Andert Pager.

And he suffered.

He also fantasized for dozens of days about the beautiful moment of taking the resurrected Andert Pager as his person and whispering sweet love.

And he despaired.

Because Andert Pager would never return.

Spolia’s love met its end the moment he became aware of it.

Ah, this too was a destined farewell. Could it not be called complete love because it was love that could never be fulfilled?

But what good was completeness?

Something that ultimately could not be possessed.

Spolia fell asleep immersed in long regret.

When I opened my eyes, hoping that the destined opponent I had waited so long for would appear before me again…

It was 6 years later that he heard the name Andert Pager again.

* * *

I opened my eyes.

“….”

Not long after opening my eyes, I instinctively felt around my limbs.

An intense headache rushed in, making it difficult to breathe, every joint felt twisted, and my skin burned like fire… but I didn’t stop moving my hands.

My head was there.

My arms and legs were there.

I had ten fingers, and my mouth and nose were breathing.

And… my heart was still beating.

“Haa.”

Only after feeling my heart’s pulse beneath my palm could I stop the painful movements.

I am alive.

I used my thumb to feel around below my ring finger. No matter how much I checked, I could no longer feel the cool touch of the silver ring.

That meant the magic engraved on the ring had successfully manifested.

After waiting a few minutes for the pain to subside.

When I struggled to open my eyes, I saw my body lying on the bed. Then the desolate fields spread out beyond the window came into view.

The Land of Death.

My Caliphate, my home.

It was good that I had returned here through Lu’s magic.

But… it seemed like there was a problem.

I raised my trembling hand and slowly examined its appearance from front to back. Damn, I had somewhat expected this and prepared myself mentally, but…

“…Strength.”

I can’t feel any strength.

I had become an ordinary human who couldn’t even swing a sword.

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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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