Quietly Hiding that I am a Man chapter 88- Fake Skills

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The warning bells went off in my head at Jerome’s sudden fierceness.

My earlobe, where he’d bitten before whenever he lost his temper, throbbed as if sensing danger.

I recalled promising him anything he wanted if he won the selection round.

Jerome tightened his hold around my waist as I pushed at his shoulders, shaking my head.

“Don’t act so high and mighty when you haven’t even won yet. And can you just…”

Before I could finish, his lips crashed against mine.

His hand gripped the back of my head, making it impossible to turn away.

This kiss was different from the one before.

Instead of a tender passion, it was almost aggressive, like a predatory instinct.

Caught in Jerome’s unblinking gaze, I felt suffocated.

His thick tongue pressed deep into my mouth, filling it like an invading force.

His tongue grazed every sensitive spot, making my legs weak.

Saliva I couldn’t swallow dribbled down my chin, and the wet sound in my ears made my neck flush with heat.

In the brief moment when his lips left mine, I shoved at his shoulders, panting heavily as he looked down at me.

“Now you know. That’s how you open up your throat.”

“…”

“Remember that well. If you can’t handle using your mouth, I’ll find other ways.”

He flipped his hand over, tapping just below my navel.

It was surreal to reconcile the Jerome I knew, the one who held himself with a certain decorum in public, with this current version who seemed almost ready to cross every boundary.

I belatedly realized the strange, unsettling feeling I’d noticed since the library.

Stunned, I looked up at Jerome.

He narrowed his eyes, clearly not expecting this reaction.

“Janne, I was threatening you just now. Don’t look so adorable.”

“I get it now.”

“Hm?”

“You’re angry.”

If it meant nothing to him, he wouldn’t be angry.

That’s why Jerome could casually dismiss people who insulted him, or laugh off Luke’s provocations.

To him, they didn’t matter.

But he had clearly been angry with me since the library.

Really angry.

Jerome gave a small, disbelieving laugh.

“Me?”

“You’ve been angry, ever since the library.”

“No way. I’m too mild-tempered to get angry.”

I stared at him silently as he brazenly lied.

He blinked, as if weighing something, then released his grip on my hair, muttering to himself as if under a spell.

“No, you’re right. I think I was angry.”

His eyes, which had been glinting with menace moments ago, softened, settling into a quiet calm.

He pulled me closer, his arms like steel around my waist, pressing his forehead against my shoulder with a weary voice.

“I was so mad I could go insane.”

The tone was too detached to be a real confession.

Still, watching him no longer consumed by anger made me realize that anger fades once it’s acknowledged.

After a while, Jerome spoke again, expressionless.

“So, stop avoiding me. You can slap me or curse me, just stay where I can see you. I felt like I’d been stranded in a desert, those days without you.”

“Don’t you have anyone else to entertain you?”

“Plenty, but… you’re the only one I can actually talk to.”

Ah, so he has others.

My brief warmth hardened like stale bread left out for days.

I glared at Jerome, then swung a fist at him without warning.

Thwack!

Jerome caught my fist with ease, narrowing his eyes as if puzzled.

My clenched fist trembled in mid-air as he watched, until he finally spoke in the silence.

“Is punching a way to confess in Sacre?”

“Of course not! And why do you keep kissing me without asking? Do that again, and I’ll tie a rock to your leg and toss you in the lake…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I… I bit my tongue from the rage.”

Unable to contain my emotions, I’d accidentally bitten my own tongue.

Jerome watched as I whimpered with watery eyes, then burst out laughing.

Ignoring my pain, he kept laughing like he found it unbearably funny.

I shot him a glare.

“Stop laughing!”

At that moment, when I was scolding Jerome to stop laughing so much, he suddenly cupped my cheeks with both hands.

Our eyes met, and an awkward silence hung between us for a few seconds.

My heart, which had been beating steadily, began to race faster.

Without a word, Jerome lowered his head, and I hesitated before squeezing my eyes shut.

‘I should be moving away… I shouldn’t be closing my eyes—I should be avoiding this!’

Even though my brain was sending urgent orders to my body to step back, somehow my body ignored it, almost anticipating the impending contact.

Just then, a chilling voice broke through my confusion.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I opened my eyes in shock.

Jerome had paused inches away from me, expressionlessly turning his head.

When I followed his gaze, I saw Duke Carmen, who I’d seen in the library before, staring at us in horror.

I felt the blood drain from my body, and my hair stood on end.

“Can’t you tell? We’re in the middle of a romantic moment here.”

Jerome, completely oblivious to the atmosphere, answered brazenly.

Now it was my turn to feel horrified.

As rude as he was being, Carmen was our only mentor—what in the world was he thinking?

Sure enough, the Grand Duke’s face grew red, his hand gripping his staff as he shouted with a vein bulging in his neck.

“You… you crazy fool…! I told you to wait in the training ground, and here you are, doing… that! Get out of here this instant!”

The Grand Duke gestured wildly, spittle flying as he yelled, and Jerome clicked his tongue, turning away without a care in the world.

Jerome might not have an ounce of shame, but I was on the verge of a full-blown panic.

‘I can’t believe I’m meeting my favorite character like this.’

Carmen Schneider, the Iron-Blooded Blade.

He was a character I’d put a lot of thought into creating.

His rough hands, the physique that seemed too grand for an old man, and the scar slashing across one side of his face—all of it conveyed his years of service in combat.

I swallowed hard, feeling overwhelmed just by his presence.

Just his title, ‘Grand Duke,’ was enough to hint at his stature.

After retiring as the Empire’s top commander, he served as the Academy’s swordsmanship professor and was one of the most respected figures in the Empire.

‘So cool. He’s a bit prickly, but… just like in the original story.’

My face flushed slightly. Carmen, with his strikingly white hair, carried it almost like a fashion statement.

Noticing my awe-struck gaze, he scoffed.

“You’ve got some nerve. What could possibly make you want to pursue romance with that lunatic?”

“Huh? I’m not dating him.”

“Then why were you blocking his path and clinging to him? I barely held myself back from cutting both of you down right there. Kids these days have no sense of shame, do they?”

Carmen Schneider, the legendary sword of steel, was indeed a grumpy old man.

His scolding was the kind that made you want to slam the door and insist that it was just the wind.

He glared at me as I stood there dumbfounded and launched into a lecture about how I should be reading another line from a book instead, how my parents had worked hard to send me to the Academy only for me to waste my time on “nonsense like romance.”

After a lengthy tirade, he jerked his head, signaling me to follow.

“Well, it’s just as well. You should come along.”

“…Why me?”

“There are certain things in this world only exceptional individuals can do…”

His gaze met mine, the look in his eyes turning serious.

He seemed deep in thought before he continued, his tone shifting.

“And there are also things only a fool like you can manage.”

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I didn’t even have time to lament being labeled a ‘fool’ by my favorite character before I was heading to the Academy’s training grounds.

True to its reputation as the Empire’s largest academy, the training grounds were as vast as a sports field.

Stepping into the dimly lit space, the chill of the marble walls instantly hit me.

The training area was tiered, designed so that observers could watch from above.

Jerome had arrived before me and, pulling a lever on the wall, activated a large pulley.

On the opposite side, a training dummy rolled out on wheels, letting out a strange creak as it slowly assembled.

The dummy, which transformed from a mannequin into a ferocious Cerberus, let out a roar in Jerome’s direction.

‘Is that really meant for training?’

The massive size of the Cerberus made my jaw drop. Jerome unsheathed his sword, charging forward.

He narrowly dodged the beast’s massive front paws as they crashed down, a faint smile on his face—the smile of someone savoring a pure, unadulterated battle.

Leaping into the air, he adjusted his grip on the sword mid-fall, slicing downward in a blue arc that landed on the Cerberus’s neck.

A guttural cry echoed, making my hair stand on end.

The Cerberus, which had been trembling, finally reverted back to a training dummy.

From above, the Grand Duke tossed Jerome a towel with a yell.

“What kind of rich food did you gorge on at the infirmary to get so slow? If that were a real Cerberus, your head would be rolling on the ground! Do it again!”

Jerome, wiping his sweat half-heartedly with the towel, turned away, clearly disinterested.

He kicked the defeated dummy, prompting an even more intimidating monster to emerge.

Watching Jerome, even a novice like me could tell he possessed terrifying skill.

His speed and agility allowed him to fend off the monster’s erratic attacks without faltering.

Now, I could understand why he’d been spared instead of executed at the temple.

“Have you ever heard of the Sword Saint?”

As I stared at Jerome’s mastery in awe, the Grand Duke, hands behind his back, asked, watching Jerome with a contemplative look.

I snapped back to reality and nodded.

I knew the lore; I’d written it, after all.

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