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

“Her only family member is a younger brother, and her last name is Fager.”

It was a combination that in many ways reminded him of the existence of Andert’s sister.

But was the information reliable?

Hadn’t she already lied about her identity once? Daisy’s identity was also likely to be fake.

Raphael recalled the woman’s face, which was strangely clearly engraved in his memory.

Bertie, no, Daisy, by definition, was a rare beauty that gave off a simple vibe.

That part was her only similarity with Andert.

Maybe it was because she had little to no change in her expression, but she looked a little absent-minded at times, and her voice was also small. Because of that, her personality seemed hard to gauge.

‘That’s why I’m having a harder time co-relating her with Andert.’

Andert was a cheerful man.

He was so frighteningly sociable that he could form a friendship with a passing ant. He had a unique, human charm to him. Anyone who had ever had a conversation with Andert couldn’t help but think about him, and would often try to talk to him again and grow a relationship with him.

“My lady, the mansion is short of cleaning staff.”

On the contrary, it seemed like the woman called Daisy had a few loose screws.

She did not seem like someone who’d be Andert’s older sister at all.

‘Yes, I’m sure that’s not the case.’

However, Raphael couldn’t shake off the suspicion at all.

It was because there were several factors to this.

The reason he had such a clear memory of the woman’s face…

Hadn’t the usually cool-headed and stoic Desherro looked at her in bewilderment?

In addition, he’d not been the only one who’d considered the probability.

Raphael recalled the conversation he’d had with Duke Jurian a few hours ago at the Iregiel airfield where the ships stood. Jurian was silently staring at Viscountess Weatherwoods’ ship as it disappeared among the clouds.

As Raphael approached him, looking at the sight of the swordmaster standing so motionlessly, Jurian turned around, as if expecting him and quietly called out his name.

“Raphael.”

When they were alone, Jurian often called him Raphael, rather than Archduke.

Raphael wasn’t very comfortable with using formalities with Jurian either. Afterall, they were comrades who’d fought together in the battlefield.

“Yes.”

“May I ask what the disturbance with Mrs. Weatherwoods was all about?”

“Just what you already know. There was a little argument over whether the survivor of the southern islands was due to be investigated once more or not.”

“But you’re usually not one to make a fuss in public.”

Raphael did not reply.

Jurian, who stared at his face, made a strange expression.

“I managed to steal a glance of that maid. You may laugh at me for saying this, but for that moment when I saw her, Andert suddenly popped up in my mind. I thought that if Andert’s sister were still alive, she probably would’ve looked like that.”

This time again, Raphael kept his mouth shut.

There was no reason for this other than the fact that he too thought the same thing.

“There was one more person at the noble council meeting that I found that shared this similarity.”

“…who is it?”

“The Viscount Gray Weatherwoods.”

When Raphael looked at him with strange eyes, Jurian gave him a mysterious smile.

“Do you remember what I told you earlier? That the Viscount defeated my Jean in a duel?”

“Yes.”

“Jean is definitely the best among all of the swordsmen I’ve taught. If it weren’t for her sword, I would have a hard time picking my successor between her and Gavroche.” 

“…….”

“I’ll tell you a secret. Teaching Jean often reminded me of Andert. Yes, it used to remind me of that Reckless bastard’s swordsmanship.”

Reckless bastard.

It was so aptly put that Raphael unconsciously smirked.

“Is it because Miss Jean-Berkeley Gratton is a sword-demon?”

“Am I wielding the sword, or is it wielding me? I believe the answer to this question is very important for a swordsman. That one question alters their approach and ultimately affects their results.. This is one subject Jean and I often clash upon. That child is bad at lying. She says she’s taken all my teaching and assimilated it into her swordsmanship, but the movement of her sword says otherwise. Jean has no qualms about being controlled by her sword.”

Jurian was getting old, too.

He’d become more talkative than he used to be. This was especially true when he talked about the successors he’d taken in for the Berkeley Gratten family.

“As she deviates more and more from my teachings, I found that Jean’s eyes are no longer fixated on me. The child needs a new master that can help clear a new path for her sword. If there’s someone who could seduce Jean with their swordsmanship like that, then they must be someone similar to her, a demon of the sword too.”

“…….”

“Jean was defeated by Viscount Weatherwoods.”

Jurian, who’d been talking calmly, suddenly burst into a small laugh.

Raphael was surprised at his almost boyish smile. This was the first time he’d seen Jurian smile like that since the war.

“Ha-ha. Do you know? Viscount Weatherwoods’ hands are as soft as a cat’s palm, to the point I couldn’t imagine them to have ever held a sword. That was probably why he confidently said he’d learned swordsmanship, but…”

The green eyes, with an unfathomable depth to them, glimmered coldly.

“What’s the use of hiding calluses, but doing nothing to hide the skeleton? His palms were deformed in a way that only happens to swordsmen who’ve been training for a long time. That was undoubtedly the hand of a swordsman. To be more precise, only his left hand was the one that was deformed.”

“…….”

“Raphael. Do you think I’m delusional?”

Jurian did not explain what he meant by his delusion, but Raphael grasped it at once. He meant to imply that there was a connection between Viscount Weatherwoods and Andert.

That fact got on Raphael’s nerves.

‘Gray Weatherwoods…’

A left-handed swordsman with excellent skills who’s trying to hide them.

A presumed demon of the sword.

The intuition and insight of the swordmaster, who was known for his sixth sense.

But that alone wasn’t enough to connect the viscount with Andert.

No, it certainly wasn’t enough.

Left-handed swordsmen might be rare indeed, but if you searched the world thoroughly, wouldn’t you find at least ten-to-twenty of them?

Raphael recalled the image of Duke Jurian’s back as he moved away.

‘Delusional.’

Duke Jurian wasn’t someone easily susceptible to emotional delusions.

His sense of reason was more firm and much more colder than Rapahel’s. If there was no notable evidence, though he may doubt it, he would not say it out loud.

Which meant…

‘Does Duke Jurian know that Daisy Fager is a survivor of Queen Island?’

The Imperial Southern Archipelago consisted of 19 islands.

It was a large archipelago with more than 200,000 inhabitants, and Queen Island was the southernmost island of it.

‘I certainly said Daisy Fager was a survivor of the Imperial Southern Archipelago, but never mentioned she was a survivor of Queen Island.’

Raphael’s eyes narrowed.

All information from the Imperial Southern Archipelago, including Queen Island, was confidential and only accessible to the military.

‘The man who’d attacked my messengers and intercepted them… was Duke Jurian.’

Two of the messengers from Queen Island had been attacked on their way to him. The culprit had been the swordmaster.

Anything concerning Raphael was treated as a confidential military secret. Since he was the commander-in-chief of the Imperial Military, it was only natural. Duke Jurian was one of the few people that could secure the route that messages were delivered to him.

“Desherro.”

“Yes.”

“Investigate and check if there’s any connection between the terror incident at the Iregiel Villa and Duke Jurian Berkeley-Gratten.”

Desherro, surprised, asked him cautiously,

“…Do you suspect him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any evidence?”

“No, it’s just a feeling.”

Desherro did not take Raphael’s rather casual answer lightly at all.

This was because Raphael’s animal-like intuition had never been wrong.

“I’ll find out his point of contact with the terrorists.”

Raphael slowly leaned back into his chair.

In his head, new plans quickly began to be formed and torn down one by one.

His head was still cold, but his blood flowed hot enough to warm up the rest of his body and heart.

As his gaze became crystal clear, the fluffy hairs on his skin stood.

Raphael breathed out a slow, languid breath, as if to stop his instinct to run wild.

The echo of his heartbeat sounded. How long had it been since he’d become so excited?

Raphael smiled self-deprecatingly.

‘How stupid of me, too. I can’t believe I’m still hopeful after everything.’

It had only been a few days since he’d decided he’d try to get him out of his hand.

Andert.

Are you really alive?

“Desherro, send a man to Midwinterre. Tell him to keep a close eye on Viscount Weatherwoods and Daisy Fager. In addition, a new team of investigators must be dispatched to Queen Island. I will direct this matter myself.”

Desherro bowed his head with a serious expression.

“I see.”

“…I look forward to meeting Viscount Weatherwoods very much.”

A deep smile hung around Raphael’s mouth.

I hope Raphael is able to be happy soon, or at least get some closure :/ 

I recommend re-reading chapter 20 and 21 to refresh some of the things mentioned in this chapter.

A makeshift explanation on sword-demon, demon of the sword: One can either wield their sword or be wielded by it. people who pour all their feelings onto their sword give it an ego of it’s own. if they’re thirsty with greed to improve more, they’ll let the sword control them instead of controlling the sword. which is why they’re called demons of the sword, I believe, because they lose their humanness in a fight to substitute it for strength.

so they’re not some other species or anything, it’s just metaphoric, because they fight without caring for their own self. just to let ya know so you won’t get confusedd.

Things are getting so exciting hehee