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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuziro
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Adapting to the Ogator estate was smoother than I had expected.
I think it helped a great deal that I introduced myself by omitting any association with Lagnis from the start, so that no one would treat me with special consideration or wariness.
After I introduced myself by downplaying myself, along the lines of “I happened to come across this seemingly talented child by chance and brought them along”, the overflowing diligence I demonstrated was enough to earn the favor of the family members and servants.
Aside from Cheryl, whom I would end up clashing fiercely with, no one disliked the industriousness, earnestness, and capability that was Eldmia.
“It’s chilly.”
It seemed like around a year and five months had passed since I was employed by Lord Ekaf. Whenever winter started to approach after arriving in the capital, I would feel a strange sense of loneliness remembering when I first met Asirye.
Despite living quite diligently, the feeling of time passing quickly did not come this time. Still, there were many changes worth mentioning.
At the age of 15, my height increased a bit more, to the point where no one would believe I was 15 anymore.
I also gained more muscle, improved my swordsmanship, learned how to refine aura, and was able to apply it to use magic more skillfully, achieving a major accomplishment.
Not just me, but through the letters we exchanged regularly, I could tell Asirye had also gone through changes. Stories like the horse she had raised for a long time seemed to be nearing its end, that she had cut her hair short, and that after Alisha’s persistent requests, she now lived together at Alisha’s inn while occasionally checking on the cottage.
Except for the part about the horse she had raised since the age of 8 seeming to be on its last legs, they were all good stories, which reassured me.
It has been seven years since the war with the Demon Lord’s army began, and hearing no bad news was truly fortunate.
Above all, the most fortunate thing was that the one who had devastated the foundation of my life still seemed to be alive.
“Eldmia!”
The faint, yet now all too familiar cry of Cheryl in the distance instantly snapped me to attention. Her call, which would never come twice, demanded that I show myself faster than I could respond verbally.
Grabbing the leather gauntlets and the practice longsword I had prepared, I ran over.
It wasn’t far from the lodgings where the family’s servants stayed to the garden where Cheryl was. I ran at full speed, and it probably took around 30 seconds.
Despite it being February, roses were in full bloom in the middle of the garden where the young lady stood. I approached her and respectfully handed over the gauntlets and sword I was holding.
“Take them.”
Tying up her well-kept platinum hair and dressed in riding attire with her arms crossed, the eldest daughter of the Ogatorf family turned towards me, her violet eyes, identical to Lord Ekaf’s, sparkling.
I maintained my posture while meeting her gaze directly. As a servant, it would have been proper etiquette to bow my head and kneel on one knee when receiving something, but she was an exception.
If I averted my gaze, she would slap me. If I knelt, she would kick me in the face. The reason? I have no fucking idea. She hits only me and not the others.
Even after more than a year since our first encounter, this infuriating brat maintained her consistently capricious behavior. I was certain this was not mere adolescence – it was simply her innate nature.
Sometimes as short as 3 seconds, sometimes as long as 10 seconds. As she would occasionally cast indeterminate eye contact that made me wonder if she was in pain somewhere, I decided to simply take the time to scrutinize her face carefully.
Hmm. Today, her red eyeliner seems to have been applied more heavily than usual.
I think about it every time I see her. Cheryl is cute.
If she wasn’t cute, I would have been struck in the cheek hard enough to draw flames by now.
Since that has not happened yet, she must be cute to some degree.
After making eye contact for a few seconds, the eccentric Cheryl Tzin Ogatorf, renowned even at the academy, would nod her head and accept the sword and gauntlets.
This strange behavior of hers now felt like a kind of ritual.
“Take your stance.”
There was no need for a verbal response. She really disliked redundant replies. So I silently took my position across from her, donning the gauntlets and gripping the longsword in a ready stance.
After a brief stillness, without any signal, Sheril lunged forward, swinging her sword.
That was the signal. The sound of the blunted practice swords clashing began to fill the garden. This was the morning routine that had continued for the year I had served as her exclusive attendant.
It wasn’t such an odd position at first.
I was simply a servant who worked diligently, observed diligently, and exercised diligently whenever I had time, doing my duties.
Naturally, I did my work well. Excluding etiquette, all the practical aspects fell within the bounds of common sense and knowledge, and with my past life’s memories remaining, I could understand in one go what others would take three times to comprehend.
If told to level the ground with a shovel, I was like a veteran soldier standing beside children who would ponder the meaning of “leveling” when given the same instruction.
Of course, there were no tasks that were completely new to me, and I quickly gained a reputation as a quick learner, an intelligent child capable of mental arithmetic, sticking out like a sore thumb in all kinds of work.
However, the balance that had been maintained to some degree was suddenly, and drastically disrupted after I unexpectedly won a duel proposed to me within just three months.
My opponent was a friend who was undoubtedly going through the training process to become a knight. A friend who was seriously underestimating me, for being four years younger.
A friend who either lacked perception or intelligence to understand the implications of the lord himself ordering a duel. In retrospect, he was a pitiful friend, but I had no intention of going easy on him, so I simply knocked him out with one blow to the jaw.
Lord Ekaf, who had already been aware of my abilities from the start, had belatedly staged this spectacle, though I only realized the reason after I had already become Cheryl’s exclusive attendant.
Watching Cheryl make an attack similar to that friend’s squire, only to be countered by me now, brought back that memory.
“Explain.”
Despite her incoherent way of speaking, over the years I had developed the skill of perfectly understanding Cheryl’s gibberish.
This meant she did not understand why she had been so easily countered after making that move, and wanted me to explain it verbally.
“People can die or get injured if they are cut by a sword, unless they are particularly skilled at enveloping themselves in mana.”
Cheryl is intelligent. Even if an obvious statement comes from her opponent’s mouth, she does not try to refute its obviousness, but instead listens to the end with composure.
Despite being only 15 years old, her demeanor differs from typical peers, likely due to the education she has received.
It was rather silly to have to tell a 15-year-old things like “you’ll die if” and “you’ll die like this,” but I accepted that as simply how the world was.
“But you can also die from accumulating too many cuts and losing too much blood.”
“…Was I too focused on big attacks?”
She was also good at listening, comparing, and summarizing. Quite bright, indeed.
“Exactly. While it’s good to attack your opponent with the intent to kill during practice, since that’s like real combat, relying too much on obvious methods isn’t very effective.”
As I relaxed my stance and took a defensive posture with a nod, Cheryl, having understood immediately, came at me with a thrust this time. However, since she overextended again with the intent of skewering her opponent.
I simply deflected it to the side with a light parry and swung the crossguard of my sword, aiming for her forehead while still gripping the blade. Despite stopping just short of her face, she did not flinch, her gaze fixed on the very tip of the crossguard near her left eyebrow.
Could this be true talent? Could she also be a reincarnator or regressor?
“They say the sword in your hand is the weapon, not just the blade.”
“Why ‘they say’?”
“Because I overheard it too, didn’t I?”
Even if I was a regressor, I am not particularly talented.
While walking the incredibly impressive path of losing my hometown at age 8, supposedly killing a Wyvern Knight in the sky at 14 years off age, becoming connected to renowned knights of the kingdom, and undergoing rigorous training to achieve revenge and my goals, I simply have a mind that is a bit more precocious than others.
I have no ability to teach others arrogantly. Most of it is others’ knowledge.
“Why can’t I overhear things like that?”
A small twitch occurred on Cheryl’s left eyebrow. Ah, this is one step before she gets pissed off for some reason.
“You’re busy, plus you go to the academy. The teachers won’t tell you anything beyond the basics, and your peers are just ordinary kids, so what would they know?”
It wasn’t a wrong statement. Considering swordsmanship alone, the Ogatorf family was at least on par with, if not better than, the Royal Academy.
It was just that the academy had the enormous merit of allowing one to learn various academics and experience other things outside of that.
Cheryl seemed somewhat convinced by my answer and let go of her dissatisfaction, after which our duel continued for another hour, with short breaks in between.
Despite it not being an easy task, Cheryl only showed slight signs of fatigue towards the very end. Was that the power of her bloodline or early education? Pondering that, I handed the sweat-drenched Cheryl, indifferent to the early morning chill, over to the maids who would assist her bathing. I then returned to the servants’ lodgings, bathed, and prepared to change back into my uniform.
After putting on the burdensome butler’s attire and pocket watch, applying cologne for work, and equipping my longsword and belt, I hurried over to the main residence.
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