Chapter 42
Chapter 42
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Will Dwells in the Sword (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
From then on, another week later.
Just when I thought I'd narrowly escaped crisis by indirectly rejecting Ethan's favor toward me and returned to my ordinary daily routine.
Growing sick of holing up in my room knitting every day, I decided to take a stroll for a change of pace since the weather was nice for once.
...Though that stroll amounted to nothing more than wandering the mansion's front yard and its surroundings.
If Lilith weren't just a debt maid, she could've climbed all the way to the back mountain of the estate—and if that were allowed, she probably would have.
But my status as a debt maid, with still five or six years left to pay it off, continued to impose all sorts of restrictions and vulnerabilities on me.
Even so, after about a year in this role, my mindset had grown somewhat more relaxed compared to before.
'And in the original game, Ethan's tutoring would've started long ago by now, but there's no sign of that happening.'
I was fairly convinced that the choking incident had drastically altered the story from the original game.
Honestly, if nearly dying at the hands of his personal maid hadn't changed things, he wouldn't be human.
In any case, the biggest reason I'd desperately rushed to grow stronger was to build up resistance before Ethan could overpower me by force.
With Ethan not pulling any nonsense on me right now, there was no need to draw attention and earn a scolding from the head maid.
Of course, that didn't mean I'd completely abandoned my lingering attachment to leveling up.
'I'll raise it when the chance comes. Worst case, I can do it after leaving the Blackwood mansion.'
One year and about a month down out of seven. Just endure the remaining five years and eleven months, and Lilith Rosewood would be free.
Of course, by then Lilith would be around twenty-five or twenty-six—not exactly strikingly young.
This world was medieval fantasy, after all, where women typically married young.
Unless she was a noble lady or entered a higher institution like the academy, a commoner woman generally married in her late teens or early twenties and started a household—that was the norm.
...But that had nothing to do with me.
'I never planned on spending a lifetime with some man in the first place.'
On the flip side, twenty-five wasn't much of a barrier for becoming an adventurer or opening a shop, as long as one had talent.
In fact, there were plenty of female adventurers who never had kids and kept at it for years.
I had no grand ambition to propagate my genes in this world, so there was no reason to feel rushed.
I just needed to endure the remaining time, pick up adventuring or some other job, and make a fresh start.
Ideally as an adventurer or something where I could freely use magic.
'What about a concept like a mysterious hooded mage? Once people know you can use magic, they'll assume you're nobility anyway, and with this chest, hardly any guys would recklessly charge in...'
As I sketched out my future plans like that, about halfway through circling the mansion yard on my walk,
by chance, I caught the sound of something long and rod-like slicing through the wind near my ear.
'......Huh?'
My curiosity drifted toward that unnatural sound, distinct from natural wind.
It didn't seem too far from the path, so I quietly stepped in that direction.
-Whish! Whish!
"Ethan, faster! You think that pathetic effort is enough to inherit the Blackwood sword?!"
"Aaagh...!"
-Whing! Whing! Whing!
...What is it? Just the Blackwood father and son.
Ethan diligently swinging a sword in a clearing in the back yard of the Blackwood mansion.
And Harold watching over him, instructing and supervising.
It was a bizarre sight my mind struggled to accept at first, but upon reflection, it wasn't all that strange.
'He said lately he was taking sword lessons from Harold—guess it was true.'
With rumors floating around the past few days that 'the young master changed again,' I'd assumed he was putting on some polite act somewhere.
Never imagined he'd actually be learning the sword from Harold this time.
Honestly, the sight of that lump of a body swinging a sword was kinda funny in itself.
But thinking back to the boss fight with Ethan in the game, it wasn't all that laughable.
'He was pretty tough as a boss in the Lilith scramble, befitting his status.'
No matter how underdeveloped his training, a noble was a noble.
The heir of the Blackwood family, specialized in body enhancement magic, no less.
The image of that piggish bulk dual-wielding swords was amusing, but separately, the difficulty was solid for an early-game boss.
Even factoring in the slave mark forcing Lilith to support from the rear in that boss fight.
If anything, Harold standing beside him looked even more out of place.
Wearing a stern expression as he taught swordsmanship to the swinging Ethan—completely unlike his usual doting dad routine.
No matter how I thought about it, this Harold felt entirely different from the one I'd known until now.
'No matter how much of a doting fool he is for his son, as a sword master, he's dead serious about the blade.'
He'd indulge Ethan's absurd demands otherwise, but drew the line at sword instruction.
He wasn't the affectionate type to begin with, so if anything, stripping away the character flavor, this outward impression felt more normal.
The issue was just that handling him this way might spark other problems before long.
I didn't recall exactly when in the game Ethan stopped learning swordsmanship from Harold, but assuming it aligned with Thanacia's death, it'd been three or four years.
Plus the five-year curse-induced gap he was forced into, and the aimless year after waking.
About ten years cursed asleep aside, that still meant nearly five years without touching a sword.
Considering Ethan's effective physical age now, it was practically like starting swordsmanship from scratch.
Hence drilling basics like swinging from the ground up.
Pushing half-baked, untrained techniques could've injured him badly.
That said, this training method struck me as unsustainable in the long run.
In reality too, when starting exercise, you gradually increase load to maintain it long-term.
Spartan training on a total newbie like this would burn them out fast.
-Clang.
"Haa, haa, kuhhh...."
"Get up, Ethan. We're only halfway done."
"Huk, huk, huk...."
"...If you don't pick up that sword right now, we'll start today's training over from the beginning."
-Grip.
Ethan gripped the dropped sword and rose at Harold's stern declaration.
Even if it's because he's a sword master himself, this might actually kill his own son.
"No dawdling—start now."
"Uup, kyaaa...!"
Pushed by Harold's unyielding attitude, Ethan reluctantly gripped and swung again.
The old Ethan would've quit and collapsed ages ago, but etiquette training seemed to have instilled some willpower.
...Though at Harold's pace, he'd probably collapse again in a few days anyway.
I could advise Harold to tone down the training menu for his kid's sake, easing limits gradually.
But my status wasn't one that could offer advice to Harold.
I was Ethan's personal maid now, but just a year ago, a lowly commoner maid girl.
Odds of Harold taking me seriously: near zero.
And frankly, Ethan dropping the sword might actually be better for me.
'At least he won't overpower me with strength.'
I wouldn't interfere, but no cheering either.
I retraced my steps away from their sight, heading the opposite way.
Whether that brat inherits Blackwood swordsmanship or not—let them figure it out themselves.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
A bit pensive after finishing my short stroll in the mansion's walled front yard,
as I headed back inside toward the upstairs personal lounge,
a voice calling my name came from behind.
"Miss Lilith Rosewood."
I turned to the now-familiar voice, and as expected, the assistant head butler stood there, his demeanor seeming devoid of some emotion.
His eyes deliberately fixed on mine, as if to avoid getting caught glancing at my chest.
"......"
"......"
Ah, right—the name.
Damn, what was it? I remembered it was about five syllables.
His expectant gaze felt burdensome, so I blurted out the first five-syllable name that popped into my head.
"...Assistant Head Butler Siegfried, sir?"
"It's Dietmeyer Colin Evercroft."
"S-sorry."
I'd just spit out whatever came to mind, but not a single syllable matched.
Still, the sound was similar enough—progress from before.
Even with such rude thoughts right in front of him, Assistant Head Butler Dietmeyer didn't change expression and continued.
Along with that, he extended a letter envelope that looked like formal correspondence toward me.
"A letter from the Blackwood territory guard, Miss Lilith Rosewood."
"Got it."
Come to think of it, about half a year ago when Ethan started etiquette training, letters addressed to him started flooding in.
Most concerned filling the still-vacant fiancée spot for the Blackwood heir.
Nobles had always shamelessly pushed their young daughters based on the family name alone, but hearing about Ethan's etiquette lessons made them even bolder in expressing their ambitions.
With Harold stubbornly insisting it wasn't time yet, this was their way of bypassing him—sending directly to Ethan to persuade.
'If that brat just snagged any noble girl as fiancée, it'd make things easier for me.'
That'd at least reduce his chances of bothering me.
Assuming he even cared about his fiancée or the other family's eyes.
But why the sudden letter from the Blackwood territory guard of all places—and to Ethan?
"I'll ensure this letter reaches Young Master Ethan reliably."
Whatever—internal territory matters weren't my concern.
With that thought, I took the letter from the assistant head butler—Dietmeyer, not Sieg-whatever.
As I started up to the upper floors, his voice called again from behind.
"One moment, Miss Lilith Rosewood."
"Yes?"
"This letter isn't addressed to Young Master Ethan Richard Blackwood. Please check the recipient properly."
"...Pardon?"
Unsure what he meant, I checked the names on the envelope's exterior once over.
Only then did I grasp what he meant by confirming the recipient.
「To Miss Lilith Rosewood, from Ser Blacksong」
...What the hell is this?
Why's this guy sending me a letter?