Fakes Don’t Want To Be Real Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 

Three days had passed since the duel with Aiden.

 

“Have you arrived, Lady– no, Psychke.”

“Your duel with Mark yesterday was incredible! Today, will you– Ouch, why did you hit me?!”

“It’s my turn today, you fool! How dare you cut in line!”

 

Today, as soon as she entered the training grounds, she was once again surrounded by soldiers looking at her with respect but she remained silent, only rolling her eyes.

Outwardly, she was expressionless, but inwardly she was filled with bewilderment.

It was the first time her skills had been acknowledged by anyone, making her feel unbearably awkward and shy.

To be honest, she wanted to practice alone and rest today.

But how was one supposed to refuse a sincere request, not a coercive one?

Since she had rarely received pure requests like this, it was too difficult.

Her savior was Aiden, who appeared pushing through the soldiers with a kind smile.

 

“You heartless brats. Just because she keeps accepting, you think it’s okay? Lady Psychke isn’t a machine; she needs time to rest, too.”

 

He made the excuse she wanted to hear and gestured with his eyes, ‘Let’s go’.

Psychke followed the path he made. The soldiers, though reluctant, didn’t stop her, only expressing their disappointment with their eyes.

With Aiden leading, the two quietly crossed the training grounds. Only when they reached the edge, where training dummies were set up, did Psychke bow slightly and whisper her thanks.

 

“Thank you.”

“Bowing to a mere soldier? That’s unbecoming.”

“It’s fine. I’m not a lady anymore.”

“Whether you are or aren’t doesn’t matter. Your skill surpasses mine, so you should be treated as a superior.”

 

Psychke had earned the soldiers’ respect not only for her swordsmanship but also because of Aiden’s attitude.

Aiden was a talent who competed for the top spot among the soldiers.

So, how he, who was defeated by Psychke, was perceived by the others needs no explanation.

As she tucked her flowing silver hair behind her ear and straightened her posture, a question arose in Psychke’s mind.

 

‘Why would someone of this skill become a soldier for the Silkisia family?’

 

With this level of ability, he could have joined the Imperial Knights.

Though curious, she didn’t ask aloud as she knew everyone had their own circumstances.

After finishing her conversation with Aiden, Psychke stood before a wooden dummy. She slowly took a deep breath, steadied herself, raised her wooden sword, and prepared to strike.

Just then, Aiden, who hadn’t looked away until now, suddenly spoke.

 

“Lady Psychke, have you ever considered becoming a knight?”

 

Swish.

The sharp sound of cutting air stopped then Psyche halted her downward swing and looked at him, understanding what he meant.

Typically, expelling a family member is up to the head of the family. Even if one wants to sever ties, they cannot if the head does not release them.

However, by joining the Imperial Knights, one could leave the family by replacing their surname with the knight order’s name.

In other words, Aiden was indirectly asking why she endured such humiliation without leaving the family.

It could have been an offensive question, but his expression was so cautious and serious that she didn’t mind.

 

Psychke answered calmly. “No. I have no intention of becoming a knight.”

 

The Empire had two Imperial Knight Orders: Ikasha and Adental.

 

‘The vice-captain of Ikasha is my brother.’

 

She had no desire to join a place controlled by Silkisia. Far from shedding the family name, she would surely be manipulated.

 

‘As for joining Adental, the political faction is a problem.’

 

As part of the Crown Prince’s faction, they would hardly welcome someone from a family representing the Emperor’s faction.

Moreover,

 

‘I want to leave the family and do what I desire.’

 

To leave behind those who ignored her, then to be acknowledged and loved by someone. It was a wish she had longed for, but which had turned to dust in her previous life.

In this life, she wanted to fulfill that wish.

Therefore, joining a specific organization to escape Silkisia wasn’t the answer.

 

“I see.”

 

Aiden’s expression darkened. Without further explanation, she must seem to him like someone desperately clinging to the ducal family. Feeling no need to clear up the misunderstanding, Psychke focused on the wooden dummy again.

 

Hesitating, Aiden opened his mouth, “If it’s all right, may I make one request?”

 

Psychke nodded immediately.

Whether the request was difficult or not, he looked downcast and remained silent for a long while. Just as he finally gathered the courage to speak,

 

“Lady Psychke!”

 

Suddenly, a shout calling her from a distance echoed. Both turned their heads at the same time.

 

“Duke Verndia of Lestir has arrived!”

 

From the center of the training grounds, Melissa gestured frantically for her to come quickly.

 

‘What could it be?’

 

If it were a chance encounter, perhaps, but Verndia had never visited her first at this hour. She racked her brain for a reason but couldn’t think of anything.

 

“Ah.”

 

Despite Melissa being far away, Aiden swallowed his words. Then, with a troubled look, he bit his innocent lower lip, frowned, and sighed.

 

“I’ll tell you later.”

 

She was curious, but there was nothing she could do. She cast her doubtful thoughts, and followed Melissa.

***

She couldn’t keep a guest waiting long, so Psychke took a quick bath and prepared to go out.

 

“You should have just stayed quietly in your room. Now you reek of sweat.”

 

Melissa grumbled about her being slow but made no move to help. No, she actually interfered, tripping her feet, putting back clothes she had taken out.

From these actions, Psychke felt a strange sense of discord.

 

‘What is this?’

 

The later she was, the more Verndia would be displeased, which would bring criticism not only on her but on Silkisia.

So why was she acting like this?

It was as if Melissa was intentionally stalling for time.

 

“Kyaaak!”

 

Only after she pretended to close a jewelry box on Psychke’s hand did the interference stop.

Clutching her hand, Psychke indifferently parted her lips at the huffing maid.

 

“My apologies. I was just so flustered.”

 

The former was a lie, but the latter was sincere. She had even unconsciously, out of habit, put on her white silk gloves.

 

“Tch, really.”

 

Having caused it herself, Melissa couldn’t complain and muttered under her breath.

Only when Psychke asked, ‘Aren’t we late?’ did she reluctantly guide her to the drawing room.

Perhaps word of her duel with Aiden had spread, as the glances from the servants she passed were unfriendly. They seemed to think it was a sham victory coerced by her status.

Ignoring them, Psychke walked straight ahead, posture upright. Then, suddenly remembering something, she spoke quietly so only Melissa could hear.

 

“That tea you bring every morning, the one from my brother Yzhar.”

“What about it?”

 

A sharp, prickly question came back.

Remembering the brown tea, a vision of freesias dried to the same color flickered in her mind. Suppressing the image, Psychke continued nonchalantly.

 

“What’s it called? I feel bad always relying on my brother, so I thought I’d prepare it myself.”

“I don’t know, there was no label. Should I just bring you the whole bottle?”

 

It was a comment meant to imply, ‘I’m too lazy to make tea, so you should just drink it yourself,’ but Psychke brightened.

 

“Yes, please do that.”

 

For a moment, the maid walking ahead stepped more lightly. She seemed pleased to have one less bothersome task.

But just as they were turning the corner of the corridor leading to the drawing room,

 

“Oh my, young lady!”

 

They nearly collided with Lillian, who was practically running from the opposite direction.

Heavy breathing, a face redder than any apology, a body trembling as if in frustration.

Lillian looked like someone who had just been deeply humiliated. She glared at Psychke with bloodshot eyes, then scurried away in quick steps.

Startled by her lady’s strange state, Melissa followed her.

In the end, Psychke had to enter the drawing room alone.

 

“My apologies for the delay. I hope you have been well.”

 

Lifting the hem of her skirt slightly in greeting, she saw Verndia, sitting on the sofa with his arms crossed and legs crossed, looking up at her askance.

 

“‘Well,’ you say.” Scowling mercilessly, he interrogated her sharply, “I heard it was you, Lady Psychke, who gave Lady Lillian false hope. Is that correct?”

“Pardon?”

 

Psychke couldn’t understand what he was talking about, coming here out of the blue. Pressing his throbbing temple, he angrily explained the reason of his question.