Chapter 13
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Scene 013 Patience
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Exhausted, I collapsed flat on the ground.
The boiling rage cooled as if doused with cold water.
My hazy consciousness, shrouded in fog, sharpened into clarity.
"Shit...."
I muttered while staring at the ceiling.
What a truly unpleasant experience.
It felt like my body wasn't my own.
As the possession level rose, controlling myself became harder.
I touched my body.
Plump flesh met my fingers.
I was back to the original Tristan.
But the fist that had struck Millium still ached.
As if Tristan's painful memory lingered like a bruise.
'Who would've thought he had such a past....'
The madness of the Ruelverta family craving magic.
A father who judged everything by value alone.
And his nannies, reduced to corpse puppets by that father's hand.
The young Tristan despaired. Hated. Raged.
The ordeal illuminated events from the past.
The visit to the Izarkhel Duke family, the assassins' attackall facts from the past.
And... Tristan must have killed Millium with his own hands.
That's how he obtained 'Wrath.'
Trait: Wrath
Rank: SS
Details: At the depths of despair, you realize wrath.
Boiling wrath takes root in your chest. Intense wrath even burns your soul.
Only those who inherit the flames of wrath can obtain this trait.
No one can face your wrath head-on. People will tremble in fear and kneel before your wrath.
Be wrathful, and wrathful still. Until this world is engulfed in flames.
This trait is one of the seven sins.
If what Millium said was true, then Wrath was a trait passed down through generations in Ruelverta.
A powerful trait that subjugates others, Wrath.
But as the description said, the more you use it, the more it burns the user's soul.
Only then did I understand why Millium's emotions had dried up.
Because only his body remained.
He was a man whose soul had burned away from wrath.
I could guess why the previous heads had died young.
They chose to become sacrifices to wrath.
Millium showed Tristan despair to ignite his wrath.
And died by Tristan's hand.
This was the behind-the-scenes story of the Ruelverta family.
-You don't need to forgive me.
I recalled Millium's final words.
'Even if Tristan hadn't killed Millium then, he would have died anyway.'
He intended to die from the start.
I stared blankly into empty space.
The world dyed in wrath gradually cleared.
The past world created by the ordeal crumbled powerlessly.
A blue sky appeared.
A peaceful landscape, as if the ordeals I'd just endured had never happened.
Then, a small face suddenly popped up in front of me.
"Hey... loser. You actually pulled it off?"
Michaela, looking at me with admiration.
Only then did it sink in.
I was back in paradise.
"Ahaha. If it were me, I'd have pumped a few rounds into that lunatic's skull. Too bad. Then you'd be trapped in the ordeal forever."
"......"
"Loser, I've got a new respect for you."
Michaela poked at me annoyingly.
Sure enough, shooting Millium there would have been the end.
"Plus, you pulled a good trait out of it?"
Yeah. It was tough, but there were results.
Trait: Patience
Rank: SS
Details: The world tests you. It shakes you and inflicts indelible wounds on your soul.
This trait helps you never lose your sense of self, no matter the situation.
No matter what emotion grips you, you can maintain your composure.
When you reach your limit, you can take one more step.
This trait is one of the seven virtues.
Warning! This trait may conflict with your existing traits.
I'd obtained one of the seven virtues, no less.
I got lucky.
It was the exact trait I'd secretly hoped for.
Patience would serve as the reins to control my evil traits' rampage.
"Hey, you got something good, so why the long face? Huh? Cheer up, loser."
Michaela teased from the side.
I sighed.
"I'm a bit tired."
I really was.
It had been a brutal ordeal.
I just wanted to head back to the mansion and collapse into bed.
"I get it."
Michaela placed a hand on my shoulder.
"The ordeal is just echoes of the past. Loser, whatever you do there doesn't change the present. So forget it."
Her face looked somehow wistful as she said that.
Even she, a god of this world, must have tragedies she couldn't change.
Being omniscient and omnipotent yet powerless was utterly depressing.
"Advice from someone who's been through it?"
"Think whatever you want. Humans interpret what gods say however they like anyway."
Michaela grinned.
It was a smile impossible to tell if it belonged to an old man or a child.
Character Profile.
Name: Michaela.
Age: ???
Occupation: Absolute God, First Human, Owner of Paradise, etc.
Traits: Possesses all traits existing in this world.
Having every headache-inducing trait must be exhausting.
"Business done? Then get lost, loser."
Michaela's hand on my shoulder tightened.
It hurt quite a bit, but I didn't show it.
This jerk, squeezing on purpose?
As if reading even that thought, Michaela chuckled.
"My paradise has no need for villains like you."
With those final words, my vision flipped.
In an instant, I stood before the familiar mansion.
Maybe Michaela's consideration for letting me rest quickly.
But I clicked my tongue and walked toward the mansion.
"Could've at least sent me to my room...."
Stingy goddess.
But... I felt like I'd forgotten something important.
Ugh... -
No matter how hard I thought, it wouldn't come to me.
What it was became clear the next day around lunchtime.
"Y-You disappeared, so I-I... d-do you know how much I s-s searched for you...? I looked for you all day in paradise...."
Wendy was reading a letter.
Unlike usual, it was simplejust reading what's written.
Learning to read for work at the count's family being useful like this was, in a way, fortunate.
But to Wendy, this situation felt like a novel form of torment she'd never experienced before.
"Th-This... n-ninety... something."
"Read it again."
"Hic!"
Ah, please!
Count! Please!
This is impossible....
Wendy pleaded with moist eyes.
But the man's demeanor was cold.
"Read it quickly. Are there words you haven't learned?"
"N-No, it's not that...."
"Then read it."
"Y-Yes...."
Wendy swallowed hard.
....
!.
!.
.
And she read the sentence from the letter.
"Th-This... b-bad guy."
"I see."
"Y-You are still a subhuman... sniff... tr-trash, scoundrel...."
"I see."
"I-I'm sorry...!"
Unable to endure, Wendy dropped to her knees.
Only then did the man, who had been reading the newspaper, finally look up.
"Is that also in the letter?"
"N-No. I-It's that I'm sorry...."
"What are you sorry for?"
"Th-That...."
Wendy looked up.
There sat a fat man who looked ill-tempered.
Tristan Ruelverta, Count.
The master of this mansion and Wendy's lord.
The moment her eyes met his frightening gaze, Wendy quickly bowed her head.
With a trembling voice, Wendy said,
"Th-The Count isn't a b-bad guy."
"Uh
O
Tristan tilted his head.
"Did Lady Bella Izarkhel write that too? Poor girl. So young, yet her mind wanders."
Eeeeek!
Count! That's not what I meant!
Wendy writhed her body.
Tristan frowned at her squirming like a squid out of water.
"Wendy. Get a grip."
"Y-Yes!"
"If you're my exclusive maid, act the part."
"Y-Yes...."
Wendy clutched the hem of her apron with her small hands.
What she wore wasn't her old maid uniform, but a far more luxurious one.
A special garment embroidered with the Ruelverta family's black lion.
The uniform only an exclusive maid could wear.
"But where's your supervisor?"
"Eh?"
"The one training you."
"Th-That's... since I'm the first exclusive maid for you, Count... no one to hand over from...."
There had been no previous exclusive maid.
In a way, it made sense.
No servant wanted to serve the notoriously foul-tempered Tristan.
Tristan nodded as if convinced.
"I see... Then we'll have to start your training from scratch."
"Tr-Training...?"