Chapter 23 : If you can’t see it, it doesn’t exist

Bang!
With another muffled thud, Ophelia had lost count of how many times she had been slammed into the wall.

“Ugh!” Her forehead began to bleed from injuries, but there was no time left for healing.

A fierce kick came swiftly; she barely dodged it. The only reason this cat-and-mouse game continued was probably because Celia wouldn’t forgive her easily.

It seemed her opponent intended to torture her to death.

“Not good, this is truly not good at all…” Ophelia gasped, each breath pulling at the excruciating pain throughout her body.

She couldn’t win, and she couldn’t escape due to the barrier magic.

The moment she saw the name Albion, she should have fled immediately.

She never expected to make such a mistake.

‘Regret? It was no use now.’

Her only regret was not having had a chance at love, not falling for someone.

Generally, the Demon God’s familiars couldn’t use magic; they used something called “Authorities.”

For some reason, Albion could use magic.

“Guh!” Another heavy punch landed on her chest.

“Now, I’m out of options.” She sat down in the corner, clutching her chest, letting out a pained sound.

“Oh my, not struggling anymore?” Celia’s voice, with a teasing laziness, slowly sauntered over to her.

Upon closer inspection, the surging magical power tightly encircled her body. She hadn’t even used her true strength, relying solely on her fists and feet to complete this one-sided massacre.

“Albion…” Ophelia looked up, resigned to her fate.

Blood-stained golden hair clung to her face, and she managed a bitter, resigned smile. “Let me… ask one last question…” She deliberately twisted her face in pain, her voice breaking.

“Alright,” Celia feigned pity and withdrew her hand.

Ophelia took a deep breath, gathering her last reserves of strength:

“How does it feel to have your man snatched away?”

“! You!” The playful expression on Celia’s face instantly froze, replaced by an erupting volcano of rage!

Ophelia chuckled softly. Immediately after, a golden light engulfed everything! A terrifying shockwave, like a hammer of divine punishment, slammed into the unsuspecting Celia, sending her flying.

[Sacrificial Detonation]

The Saintess’s ultimate move, which inflicted excessive damage at the cost of temporarily destroying her own magical power.

No matter how she used this move, it should only have ignited half of it, but now there was no longer the luxury to do so.

Magic, like a person’s life, carries information itself. Destroying magic means losing that information.

Before her consciousness completely faded, she unyieldingly shouted at Celia:

“You loser, how do you feel now?!”

Almost at the exact moment the barrier shattered, Ophelia’s blood-stained hand fiercely clutched the sacred crucifix at her chest.

[Directional… teleportation… failed… random… coordinates…]

When the smoke cleared, Celia stood in the now empty corridor.

She bit her lip, looking unwillingly into the distance:

“Did she get away?”

Although unwilling, the Young Master was the most important thing right now.

‘She even taunted me at the very end!’ She wanted to pursue, but her worry for Schiller outweighed her desire for destruction.

The ominous magic dissipated, and blue magic once again covered her body. The crazed expression on her face also vanished.

An eerie blue flame was devouring the surrounding magical traces.

“…”

She stood before Schiller’s door, yet she couldn’t bring herself to push it open.

The thought of Schiller being pinned beneath Sheryl, disheveled, and even…

“No!” She violently shook her head, forcefully dispelling that terrible imagination.

She used magic to restore the door lock.

“If Young Master is messing around with Sheryl, I’ll kill them both and then kill myself!” Celia muttered dangerous words while cautiously pushing open the door.

“No one?”

Inside the door was an empty, ordinary bedroom, and an overwhelmingly strong scent of perfume that made one feel suffocated.

“Water? Where did the water come from?” She knelt down in confusion, her fingertips gently touching the water stain, bringing it closer to her nose to sniff… Besides the perfume, there seemed to be a faint, indescribable, ambiguous scent mixed in?

“How about this?”

“Ah, no! Not there!”

“Heh heh, already can’t handle it? Weren’t you quite proactive just now?”

“No, stop, stop!”

“Ah, Young Master, it’s just a massage, don’t scream like a little girl!” Aileen said, pouting, symbolically hitting Schiller’s back with her small fists.

“Aileen’s massage is too intense!”

Schiller was lying by the hot spring, enjoying Aileen’s massage.

Only with Aileen could he regain a tiny bit of dignity from being treated as a “young master” rather than a “toy”… probably.

“Ah, all the fatigue is gone…”

“Young Master?” Aileen stopped her movements, tilting her head, her eyes filled with innocent confusion. “Did you… do something very tiring just now? You look completely drained.”

“I did…” Schiller buried his face in his arm. “So tired… truly exhausted…”

As for the door lock? Sheryl simply climbed out the window, and Schiller exited through a secret door.

‘If only I had known, if only I had known!’

Sheryl? She was in the room, looking at herself in the mirror. After sniffing the scent on her, a mixture of sweat, some kind of liquid, and… Schiller’s scent, her face instantly flushed scarlet. She grabbed a bathrobe and rushed towards the women’s bath on the other side.

As for Schiller, after using an entire bottle of perfume in the room, the scent, a mix of perfume, sweat, and an ambiguous aroma, became incredibly strange and pungent, almost like a chemical weapon.

Coincidentally, he ran into Aileen, who had just finished cleaning the bath. She saw Schiller looking like his soul had been sucked dry… and so it came to this situation now.

“I say, Aileen…” Schiller closed his eyes, enjoying this rare moment of relaxation, and spoke intermittently, his voice thick with sleepiness. “Actually… I’ve been thinking for a long time…”

“Hmm? What is Young Master thinking about?” Aileen curiously leaned a little closer.

“You…” Schiller’s voice grew softer and softer, like a dream. “…are the most maid-like maid… in the Viscount’s manor… aren’t you…” Before he could finish, soft snores began to sound.

His next intended sentence was, “You’d be perfect for Yuri with Sheryl!”

Aileen froze for a moment, then her small face flushed even redder, like a ripe apple.

She stood there, flustered, looking at the sleeping Schiller. She quietly mumbled, “Young… Young Master, honestly… saying something like that all of a sudden…” But she couldn’t suppress the upward curve of her lips.

Once upon a time, Schiller was the notorious pervert who struck fear into hearts, but now, he was such a gentle person.

Not only did he forgive her for spilling the teacup, but he also thoughtfully reduced her workload. Thanks to him, many of the maids in the mansion were unbelievably jealous.

She gazed at Schiller’s slightly tired face, and unconsciously leaned in.

“Just for a second, I’ll just have a taste!” Her face was crimson, as if excusing herself, as she leaned closer to that—