I Try To Enjoy My Life But This Woman Keep Calling Me Villain-Chapter 236: Trouble Brewing and Ready to Explode

Chapter 236: Chapter 236: Trouble Brewing and Ready to Explode

I watch Hana and smile softly as she plays with Rachel and her newly bonded spirit, Kuku—a Green Spirit. As a high-ranking spirit, Hana can command lower-ranking ones, but she’s far too kind to do so. She would rather play with them instead.

That said, don’t mistake her kindness for naivety.

She may be the Flower of Hope and Happiness of the Cunningham Family, but this flower has thorns—and she is more than willing to use them to protect our happiness.

I once saw her curse a merchant from the east, afflicting him with mild but constant diarrhea. He was the kind of man who believed he deserved respect, yet gave none in return. Sadly, the curse didn’t teach him humility. Instead, he grew even more arrogant. That bastard keeps talking about our food being too poor, so his stomach rejects it violently. It is to the point of him insulting our history and legacy.

So Hana decided to escalate things.

Let’s just say his ships later sank to the bottom of the ocean after a freak accident involving an invisible floating log. The hull was breached, the merchant drowned, and the rest of the crew survived by clinging to debris—mostly tree-related debris.

It was a very bizarre accident. The merchant’s relatives try to blame me for that accident, but without any evidence, they cannot do anything about it. There is also the fact that the King and any Nobles side with me, which also does not help their case.

Hana may be gentle, but she’s still a spirit.

And do you know anything about Spirit? Spirits can be vindictive creatures. They’re like the Fae—only more passive. They don’t start conflicts or seek trouble.

But if you start one? They’ll make sure to finish it. They will finish it with you as the only one suffering by the end.

"You don’t want to join them, dear?"

I turn to see Hilda and Silva approaching with smiles on their faces. Their bellies still look the same, but my senses already detect the budding lives within them. I can feel my children growing inside.

Fatherhood.

Soon, I’ll experience it firsthand.

My father once told me that fatherhood fundamentally changes a person. I wonder what will change in me when my children are born. Strangely, instead of fear, I feel a sense of anticipation.

I’m excited.

Is that weird? I don’t know.

When I was still a permanent patient of a hospital, I heard a lot of soon-to-be fathers fear fatherhood. Some of them are even willing to pay the doctor a good money to subtly kill the embryo without the mother knowing.

Maybe I’ve already adapted to a medieval mindset. Here, children are precious—symbols of legacy and continuity. They carry on names, talents, and bloodlines. Mothers are more than willing to die as long as their child is born into the world. Fathers are more than willing to go through hell to make sure their child is born without any problems.

That is the kind of thinking in this world.

Before I died, though, I saw plenty of parents abandon their children willingly. I once read a report about the rising number of orphans back then. I understood there were many reasons—but still...

I shake my head and refocus.

"I prefer sitting here and enjoying the sun."

I smile, kiss both of them, then shift to make room. They sit beside me. Silva watches Rachel for a moment before speaking.

"Can you teach me how to be a Spirit User, dear?"

"You know I can’t right now." I pat her belly gently. "Spirits require a large amount of mana to form a contract. According to Tiamat, the process would draw mana from the embryo."

"Embryo?"

"The baby."

"Ah."

I chuckle at her pout, then turn to Hilda.

"What about you? Do you want to form a contract with a spirit, too?"

"Hmmm? I don’t mind. I prefer archery and horseback riding, but being a spirit user sounds interesting. I’ve heard some spirits can empower arrows. Is that true?"

"There are a few. Wind Spirits, for example. They can increase arrow speed and even enhance your horse’s movement. I don’t know of any spirit that guarantees perfect accuracy, though. I’ll ask Tiamat when she returns."

Hilda shakes her head.

"No. I prefer the first option. Letting a spirit guide my arrow would hurt my pride as an archer. I want my own skill to decide whether I hit or miss. Making my arrow fly faster—that I can accept."

"Then a Wind Spirit is perfect for you. There are several near the Secret Farm. Some elves already work with them to harvest fruit from tall trees—using wind to cut the fruit while they catch it in baskets."

Hilda hums thoughtfully. I can practically see her imagination racing. Her hand twitched as she thought of all kinds of things she could do with her new power.

Looks like I’ll need to prepare plenty of animal potions. I know she’ll use the spirit to boost her horse’s speed—and I also know there will be crashes.

I can already feel it in my bones.

"Gwyn, what did you mean by ’when Tiamat returns’?"

"Hmmm? Oh. She returned to the Heavenly Realm to deal with something. She said she needed to discipline some unruly children and make them do their jobs."

I pause.

"I don’t know what she meant by that—but her expression that day still haunts my dreams."

I shudder as I recall it.

Her smile vanished, replaced by a cold, emotionless mask. For a split second, her shadow twisted into the shape of a massive black dragon—so dark it seemed to swallow the light around it.

The pressure alone nearly crushed me.

I’m a level 200 player, and even I couldn’t endure her aura—one she wasn’t even fully releasing. I shudder to think of what kind of aura she can release if she stops holding back.

"It was... very scary."

The moment only lasted seconds, but it felt like hours. I’ve permanently etched one lesson into my mind: Never anger her.

"Right! Let’s not talk about that."

I clap my hands and smile at Silva, deliberately changing the subject.

"Tiamat said she’ll bring back more books from her hoard to help us learn Spirit Contracts."

"Really? When will she return?"

"I don’t know exactly. Less than a month, probably. Maybe three weeks—twenty-five days at most."

"I’m looking forward to reading them. I wonder what kind of books she has. Does her collection rival yours?"

I blink.

...Good question.

I’m not bragging, but my guild was one of the best collectors in Second Life. We expanded our vault multiple times using rare and even limited Cash Shop items because we fill it up at a very fast pace. At our peak, it was 97% full, even after we had upgraded it forty times.

Even after people stopped playing, it stayed above 93%.

"Hmmm... I want to say I have better things—but she is an ancient dragon."

RUMBLE

"Ouch!"

Weak lightning crackles across my body.

She heard that?!

"Note to self: never call her old."

It seems the universal rule still applies—especially when the woman in question is a primordial goddess who can hear you from the Heavenly Realm.

"Anyway," I continue carefully, "she’s a... long-lived dragon."

I wait.

Nothing happens. Good. I can use that word.

"She probably has a massive collection. Still, I doubt my vault would be completely outmatched. I’m confident I’d beat her in a few categories."

"Hmmm. You’re right. I haven’t even checked the deepest vaults yet. I’m sure there’s something there that would make her jealous."

"Exactly! In fact, I can—"

I stop mid-sentence when I notice Jonathan approaching, his expression grim.

That look only appears when trouble follows.

Hilda and Silva notice, too, giving him space to give me the report.

"Jonathan. Give me the short version first. I’ll ask if I need details."

"Understood. One of our spies from across the kingdom has reported incoming guests from the Central Continent. An elven army—around a thousand strong. According to the report, every single one is a high-ranking mage."

That’s bad.

"They’re demanding your presence."

...Of course they are. I release a sigh and rub the bridge of my nose.

I can already feel trouble brewing—and I know I’ll be dragged into it.

Can’t people just leave me alone? I think I need to show them that I am not someone you can demand to meet. It is time for me to act as a Grandmaster. They cannot demand me. I am not a regular noble. I am a Grandmaster, and I demand some respect.

You want to meet me? You beg for it.