Chapter 182 - Misunderstanding

 

One was bound to encounter a plateau once their swordsmanship reached a certain level. But the moment one overcame the lull, they awakened as a transcendent capable of surpassing human limits. Regis could see that Max was on the verge of leaping over the obstacle in his way. However, such was not an easy task—if it was, all the swordsmen would have become transcendental.

Overcoming the plateau was a fight against oneself which was more difficult than competing against others. The road to transcendence could only be opened by overcoming one’s limitations of the body and mind and realizing the ultimate meaning of wielding the sword.

From now on, it was up to Max to achieve mental growth. Only then would he be able to take the jump across the barricade before him.

As he had told his disciple, Regis decided to have faith in Max as well.

* * *

Taking a sip of the tea, I observed the studio.

“How is the tea?” Ian asked. His tone was polite and full of confidence unlike before. From his voice, I could realize that success had a great impact on a person’s speech and actions.

I smiled slightly and gave him the answer he was hoping for. “It’s excellent.”

Seeming pleased, he replied with a sigh. “That’s a relief. I was nervous that it might not suit Your Ladyship’s tastes. Perhaps my uneasiness was showing.”

Frankly, I had no clue that he was feeling nervous. As expected, he was someone who was fated to become successful—seeing how skilled he was at managing his facial expressions. I then realized how terrible I was at controlling my own.

‘I better practice from now on,’ I decided.

“This is the account statement for this month,” Ian interrupted my thoughts.

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“Ah, yes. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. No matter what anyone says, it is Your Ladyship who is the muse of our workshop.”

I cleared my throat in embarrassment. “Could you just address me by what I’ve said before?”

Shaking his head, Ian spoke in disbelief. “You’re not talking about ‘Idea Provider…’ Are you, Your Ladyship?”

“I am,” I ruthlessly confirmed his doubt. I had cringed the first time Ian had called me by the term “muse.” It was only after I had given him the idea of the compact powder that I realized modern innovations could be turned into money in this world. The item had become very popular and was now prevalent among the ladies in the empire. Such was why I had decided to relay feasible ideas to the workshop. After all, all I needed was a reliable technician to turn the plans and designs into real-life items, and Ian was the perfect person for the job.

He had already been sending me jewelry every month as gifts of gratitude after I helped revive his shop. Taking the chance, I had reached out to him for a collaboration, and he had enthusiastically accepted my proposal.

“It sounds like a wonderful idea, Your Ladyship,” he had said.

The commission I received for providing ideas to the workshop was 10% of the profits. It was not a high percentage, but the inventions that the workshop sold were always in demand. The commissions alone had helped me save enough money to not work for the rest of my life.

“But I like the word ‘muse.’ It sounds… pleasing to the ears.”

In any case, I couldn’t believe he still wanted to call me by the mortifying nickname. I wanted to refute but was now focused on the beautiful statement. I couldn’t help but smile. The money I was to receive this month was enough to buy a mansion in the capital.

I was beaming with hope, but Ian blushed as if he thought I was laughing at him and asked, “Do you hate the word that much?”

Finally, I came to my senses and hurriedly denied his question. “No, no. The name doesn’t matter.” Of course it didn’t matter—the important thing was money.

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