Quietly Hiding that I am a Man chapter 89- Fake Skills

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In ancient times, two Sword Saints guarded Maya, embodying the sun and the moon.

For the future incarnation of Maya, they left a fraction of their power in their sacred swords, the ones spoken of in this story.

Carlisle’s ‘Sword of the Sun King’ was among these sacred swords.

The Grand Duke, pulling a flask from his inner coat pocket, gulped down its contents.

“Carlisle was born with the Sun’s will, while Jerome was born with the Moon’s. But historically, two Sword Saints have never been born in the same era.”

I recalled the solar eclipse I’d witnessed while trailing Jerome at the infirmary.

The terror of that bright day plunging suddenly into darkness still lingered in my mind.

The Grand Duke continued with a somber expression.

“Mages see the simultaneous rise of the sun and moon as a dire omen. Just look at the surge of heretics; this star is already on a path to destruction.”

I couldn’t shake the memory of Jerome’s fierce charge at me, his heretic’s eyes glinting as the moon eclipsed the sun.

As I shivered, rubbing my forearms, the Grand Duke posed a question.

“Did you suppress Mephisto within Jerome temporarily?”

“Probably.”

“Then the rumors I’ve heard are likely true.”

He seemed to be referring to the rumor that Jeanne might be Maya’s reincarnation.

However, that was possible only because I’d borrowed Ber’s power to summon Maya’s Bow, and I still wasn’t sure if Jeanne was Maya’s true reincarnation.

My thoughts were a tangled mess as the Grand Duke, his face expressionless, continued.

“I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that the Sword Saints of the sun and moon were born in the same generation, and that you, with Maya’s soul, encountered them.”

“…”

“Maya is desperate to enact a miracle by any means necessary…”

The thought that the star was on the brink of destruction was unsettling.

The Grand Duke, chuckling dryly, raised the flask to his lips again, and I finally noticed a faint smell of alcohol.

As he shoved the empty flask back into his coat, he murmured.

“To prevent the destruction of this star.”

The destruction of a star—it felt strangely distant, like a concept only half-real.

“Then could it be… that my possession of Jeanne’s body as the original author is also… a miracle brought about by Maya, who wanted to protect the stars?”

Boom!

A deafening explosion echoed through the air as the training dummy smashed against the wall, shattering and crumbling to the ground.

Jerome’s sword, surrounded by a crackling blue aura, seemed to ignite with power.

“Could it really be possible to convert mana directly into aura?”

The raw talent before me was so staggering that I clenched my fists unconsciously.

It wasn’t just admiration for Jerome’s abilities—I found myself envisioning the terrifying scenario of Jerome being entirely consumed by Mephisto.

‘Surely, with his power controlled by divine techniques, this shouldn’t even be possible… So why is he pushing himself this hard? Since when has he harbored such fierce determination?’

Jerome, who once approached everything half-heartedly, could only be so serious for one reason.

I didn’t know if I should be pleased or brace myself for inevitable disappointment.

“But he’s incredibly strong. I never thought he was this capable.”

My gaze naturally drifted to his forearms.

Seeing the densely etched divine techniques, I finally understood their purpose.

Without those control spells, it was safe to say that no one could stop Jerome once he lost control.

I remembered something he had once said with a cryptic smile.

“Imagine a perfectly sharpened sword.”

“…A sword?”

“Yes. One that cuts through any steel, but injures the wielder’s hand each time it’s used. People might call it a cursed blade, but no one would throw it away because there’s no better weapon.”

A sword that cuts anything but injures its wielder—a fitting metaphor for Jerome.

He lifted the hem of his tunic and roughly wiped the sweat off his face, revealing the defined muscles on his lower abdomen.

But what captured my attention wasn’t his impressive physique, but rather the scars covering his torso.

From burn marks to the crisscrossed remnants of wounds that had healed and reopened repeatedly, the scars were so grotesque that just looking at them made the hair on my skin stand.

Feeling an inexplicable pang, I quickly averted my gaze.

‘And yet… he seems to be struggling more than usual today.’

For the first time, Jerome, who usually exuded confidence, appeared to be in genuine discomfort.

But it was understandable—manipulating aura was an intense drain on energy.

A regular person would’ve passed out after just one strike.

“You damn fool, look at your blade tremble! How do you expect to beat Carlisle if you can’t even control your aura properly?”

While I marveled, the Duke, with his battle-hardened experience, was clearly annoyed.

After a sip of his liquor, he brought a cigar to his lips and took a long drag.

“To think that proud man would come to me for help… Well, he had no choice. Carlisle has mastered the will of the sword, while that fool has yet to.”

“The will of the sword?”

“Yes. Carlisle’s Emperor’s Blade grows stronger the more lives it takes. But Jerome’s Moon King Blade is different.”

The Duke’s words drifted through the smoky haze, his piercing gaze emerging from behind it.

“That blade reveals its true power only when there’s a desire to protect, rather than to take.”

“…”

“And that’s why Jerome was never as strong as Carlisle during his monster-hunting days. He lacks the conviction to protect anything.”

I followed the Duke’s line of sight to Jerome’s sword.

As the author of this novel, I had designated Carlisle as the strongest character.

In any story, the hero must be powerful to remain captivating, and if someone stronger existed, readers would lose interest.

Jerome was never meant to be the strongest; he was destined to exit the story without ever mastering the will of the sword.

“If he finds something worth protecting, he’ll grow stronger. After all, he’s a monster in his own right.”

The Duke’s words were laced with a sense of deeper meaning.

After a moment’s silence, I asked, “But why are you telling me this…?”

“What? Were you truly nothing to him?”

“I told you, I’m not!”

The Duke gave me a curious look as I protested indignantly, then shrugged.

“You saw potential in that kid, abandoned even by his parents. That’s a damn fool’s choice that no sane man would make.”

He looked back at me, his expression serious.

I hadn’t so much seen potential as been scrambling to survive, but the Duke seemed to hold Jeanne in high regard, whether rightly or not.

Before I could deny it, he continued.

“But that’s why I like you. On the battlefield, the ones who don’t know the value of their own lives are often the ones who achieve great things.”

“…”

“Help my stubborn student master the will of the sword.”

With a firm pat on my shoulder, the Duke walked past me, his voice trailing behind him.

“If he truly wants to defeat Carlisle, that is.”

As the Duke headed downstairs, Jerome, who had been watching him closely, swung his sword.

The plaster statue beside the Duke split cleanly in two.

Startled, the Duke cursed under his breath.

“You damn bastard, do you have no respect for your parents?!”

“Calm down, or you’ll lose your dentures.”

The Duke winced, grabbing his neck, exasperated by Jerome’s usual insolent tone.

As I watched them bicker, I couldn’t help but think that, oddly, the Duke seemed more like a father than anyone else in Jerome’s life.

Seeing his dentures actually fall out, Jerome burst into laughter, snickering at him with a “See, I told you.”

‘A desire to protect something… How am I supposed to teach him that?’

Propping my chin on the railing, I looked down at Jerome.

I remembered his skeptical reaction when I talked about protecting Ber.

If Jerome had wielded Carlisle’s Emperor’s Blade, which grew stronger by taking lives, it might have suited him better.

But since Jerome had rejected the idea of being a hero, the Moon King Blade wouldn’t lend him its strength.

Jerome had no sense of purpose to protect anything.

Sighing, I pressed my aching head. Jerome wasn’t the only issue.

Even if he managed to take on Carlisle, the Flare Guild had Luke, a genius in both offensive and healing skills.

To increase our chances of victory, I would need to face him myself.

‘No, I’ll try.’

Watching Jerome’s relentless training into the night, I turned away.

When the situation seems impossible, sometimes instinct is the only guide.

Right now, my gut was telling me one thing: instead of worrying, I should focus on what I could do.

And fortunately, as someone who had entered this novel, I had one unique talent.

With my fists clenched, I took a step forward.

‘Because I don’t want to give up before the fight even begins.’

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