Chapter 19 | Survival Guide for the Otome Game's Villain

The leading black-robed figure parried Erich's sword and immediately used the momentum to retreat, saying, “Another one seeking death.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the four figures behind him lunged forward in unison. Four dark longswords thrust toward Erich from four different directions. Their angles were tricky and their coordination seamless; they had clearly practiced their joint melee tactics to perfection.

But no matter how skilled they were, they were still ultimately mages. A mage who couldn't use magic was no different from someone who had severed their own limbs, let alone when trying to engage in close combat with someone like Erich, who had crawled his way out of the Abyss.

In that place, there was no such thing as magic. There were only teeth, claws, tentacles, and countless things that wanted to tear you to shreds.

As the first sword swept toward him at an angle, Erich stepped aside by half a pace. He swung his longsword upward in a fluid motion, slicing the black-robed figure in two as if meeting no resistance at all. The remaining three swords closed in simultaneously. Erich raised his sword horizontally to block the strikes, using his blade to trigger 【Shell】 to absorb a portion of the impact and convert it into energy. Channeling this energy back into his sword, he swept it in a wide arc, slicing another attacker in half while heavily wounding the remaining two.

Seeing his subordinates fall, the leader finally made his move. He was far stronger than the other four, his longsword enveloped in a visible gray mist, and every swing of his blade carried a suffocating pressure.

“You are strong, but you cannot win here. Within this barrier, your physical strength and willpower will be constantly drained. That maid lasted just over ten minutes. How long can you last?”

“I can do this all day.”

Before his voice even faded, Erich charged forward instead of retreating. Activating Vertical Slash, his strikes grew faster and faster, each swing carrying a momentum that seemed capable of piercing heaven and earth.

The leader's expression finally changed. He realized he had vastly underestimated his opponent.

This wasn't a battle at all; it was a complete slaughter. With one final Vertical Slash, the last black-robed figure collapsed lifelessly to the ground, turning into a corpse. With no one left to maintain it, the gray barrier quietly dissolved.

Just then, a beam of sunlight broke through the clouds, shining directly on Erich and enveloping him in a golden pillar of light. He tilted his head slightly, flicked his wrist to clear the blood from his blade, and sheathed his sword with a crisp, clean motion.

Tucking a strand of wind-ruffled silver hair behind his ear, Erich turned around. Stepping along the path paved by the beam of light, he walked up to Margaret. Then, pinching his vocal cords to lower his pitch into what he believed was a deeply masculine and charming voice, he said, “Miss Margaret, I apologize for all of Erich Edmond's past misdeeds. I hope that starting today, we can form a brand-new understanding of each other.”

He reached out and took the head maid's hand. Margaret's hand was soft and cold, likely due to her exhaustion from the fierce battle.

“Pleasure to meet you. My name is Erich.”

The sunlight cast down from behind him, outlining his figure in a golden halo. His silver hair fluttered gently in the wind, reflecting a soft luster. Combined with a face that Irene had described as “good enough to make a living on looks alone” and his carefully rehearsed gentlemanly gestures from his past life, he actually managed to daze the head maid for a moment. She unconsciously replied, “I am Margaret.”

Erich offered a smile and pulled gently, intending to help her up from the ground.

But then, his vision suddenly went black. All the strength was drained from his body, his consciousness cut out instantly, and he collapsed straight forward.

Margaret instinctively reached out to catch him. As a result, Erich's handsome face buried itself squarely in her chest. Looking down at the unconscious silver-haired youth in her arms, Margaret's face turned bright red at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The two Wayne family attendants quickly averted their eyes, pretending to be deeply interested in the scenery of the paddy fields.

As for Irene, after a brief stun, she scrambled and crawled her way over.

“Erich!!!”

...

An unfamiliar ceiling.

It looked like the ceiling of a train carriage. Erich lay in bed, staring blankly at it. A faint, pleasant fragrance drifted from the blanket and pillow, tickling his nose.

How long had he been out?

Erich tried to recall what had happened. His last memory was of the head maid's dazed face, followed by a complete blank.

“Waaah!!!”

A face covered in tears suddenly filled his entire field of vision. Irene threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and crying her heart out. Snot and tears smeared all over his collar. Erich pressed his hand against her face in disgust and shoved her back to the bedside.

“Erich, you're awake! I thought you were going to die! Do you know you slept through the entire morning? No matter how much I called, you wouldn't wake up! Miss Margaret said you were just exhausted, but I was still so scared!!!”

“Alright, alright,” Erich said, propping himself up on the bed. “Stop wailing. You're going to deafen me.”

Perhaps hearing Irene's cries, the door was pushed open. Margaret walked in carrying a tray, her brown hair neatly tied back. The moment her eyes met Erich's, she blushed instantly and quickly averted her gaze out the window, her tone somewhat strained. “Back then... thank you very much.”

Erich watched the head maid with amusement. Her face was completely flushed, looking like a ripe grape. She was trying her best to maintain a dignified and proper expression, but she was clearly failing.

Erich smiled—a genuine smile—and said, “I'm just glad you're alright.”

Margaret's face turned even redder. She hurried to the bedside, placed the tray on the nightstand, muttered, “Lunch,” and then turned and fled the room.

Quiet fell over the room. Erich was grinning foolishly, while Irene sat beside him, staring.

Finally noticing her gaze, Erich turned his head. “What is it?”

“Why do I feel like your attitude toward me and your attitude toward Miss Margaret are so different?” Irene said with a scowl. “You certainly weren't this gentle when you shoved my face away just now.”

Well, obviously. How could a pretty boy compare to a well-endowed older sister?

Of course, he couldn't let Irene know what he was thinking. Erich decisively changed the subject. “I'm hungry. I want to eat.”

“Oh.” Sure enough, Irene was easily distracted. She obediently stood up, set up the small tray-table on the bed, and brought the food over. It was a hearty lunch: golden roasted chicken served with vegetables and mashed potatoes, accompanied by a small bowl of steaming hot soup.

Erich picked up his fork and was about to dig in when Irene asked, “Why did you faint back then anyway? Was it just an excuse to take advantage of Miss Margaret?”

“I don't know,” Erich said unclearly, stabbing a piece of chicken and stuffing it into his mouth.

He naturally had no idea that the plate of fried eggs the head maid had brought him that morning had been spiked.

One of Margaret's tasks upon boarding the train was to vent some anger on behalf of her young mistress. Alicia Wayne had been publicly jilted by Erich Edmond, an insult that brought shame upon the entire Wayne family. Margaret's original plan was simple: drug Erich before they reached Radiant City, strip him naked, and dump him at the academy gates, letting the entire academy see what kind of trash the Edmond family's outcast really was.

But right after she had fed Erich some eggs laced with sleeping drugs, that incident had occurred.

At this moment, Margaret was standing in the small restroom at the end of the carriage, splashing cold water onto her face over and over again. The mirror reflected her incredibly red face.

What was she doing? She was supposed to be punishing this playboy.

But he really had saved her. If Erich hadn't stepped in, that thrown longsword would have taken her life. And the way he looked standing in the sunlight, the warmth of his hand when he held hers, and...

Margaret splashed another handful of water onto her face.

No, she thought, slapping her cheeks hard. She couldn't let herself waver over this. The young mistress's humiliation had yet to be avenged.

But... stripping him naked and dumping him at the academy gates really was a bit too much. After all, he did save her life.

Margaret turned off the faucet, adjusting her hair and collar in the mirror. Once the flush on her face had finally faded a bit, she pushed open the restroom door and walked out.

She made up her mind to slightly deviate from the young mistress's arrangements. For instance, maybe she could just draw a few pig faces on Erich's face instead?