My Maids are All Final Villainesses-Chapter 31: Holy King’s Speculation
Inside the Holy Castle, where pillars of white stone rose high into vaulted ceilings bathed in golden radiance, the air itself felt heavy with sacred presence.
Holy mana flowed like an unseen river, filling every corner of the grand hall with a quiet pressure that reminded all who stood within it that this was no ordinary place.
This was the heart of the Holy Kingdom, where power, faith, and authority converged.
At the far end of the hall, seated upon a throne carved from pure white crystal and adorned with gold, Holy King Guren remained still.
His posture was composed.
His gaze was steady.
But his mind was far from calm.
Before him, rows of ministers stood in disciplined formation, each dressed in robes of white and gold, each bearing expressions of respect and caution.
They spoke one after another, discussing matters of the kingdom, presenting reports, raising concerns, yet none of it truly reached the king.
Because his thoughts were elsewhere.
Clay Valmont...
That name.
It had not left his mind since that encounter.
His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his throne, a faint motion that betrayed the depth of his thoughts.
That brat...
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
Are you really strong?
He replayed the scene again in his mind.
The dungeon.
The Minotaur.
The creature that stood before him was no ordinary beast. It was something that defied logic, something that adapted to every attack, something that grew stronger the more it was challenged. Even he, the Holy King, had found himself unable to defeat it.
And yet—
It was afraid.
Not cautious, not wary, it was fearful of that brat.
The image was still clear inside Guren’s head.
The moment the creature’s gaze fell upon Clay, its entire presence changed. Its body stiffened. Its movements halted. Its roar died in its throat.
That was not something that could be faked.
That was instinct.
Raw, primal instinct.
Why?
Guren leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing further as he began to break it down piece by piece.
Possibility one... overwhelming power.
If Clay possessed strength far beyond the Minotaur, then it would explain everything. Beasts were sensitive to danger. They could sense power that humans often could not. If Clay’s presence alone was enough to trigger fear, then it meant his power had reached a level that surpassed even that monster.
Guren’s gaze darkened.
Which would mean... he surpasses me.
The thought lingered for a long time.
He didn’t want to admit it but it was heavy, uncomfortable, and also seemed impossible.
He dismissed it immediately.
If he truly possessed that level of strength, he would not remain hidden. A person with such power would not live quietly. He would not avoid attention. He would not allow himself to be tied down by something as trivial as a marriage.
Yet—
Another thought surfaced.
Unless he chooses to.
Guren’s fingers tightened slightly against the armrest.
Possibility two... concealment. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂
Perhaps Clay was not stronger in raw power, but instead possessed an ability that masked his true presence, making it appear far greater than it actually was. Some ancient techniques or magic spells that allowed users to distort perception, to create illusions that fooled even the senses of powerful beings.
But—
He shook his head slightly.
No.
That did not align.
He could clearly remember that time... the Minotaur did not hesitate because it was confused.
It hesitated because it recognized something.
Something real.
Possibility three... authority.
Guren’s eyes flickered faintly.
Control over beasts.
There were rare individuals who possessed the ability to dominate creatures, to command them through sheer will or unique affinity. If Clay had such an ability, then it could explain why the Minotaur reacted the way it did.
But again—
Guren rejected it.
That was not control.
He remembered it clearly.
Clay did not command the beast.
He tried. He failed. But when he threatened it.
The creature simply... stopped.
As if it had encountered something it should never provoke.
Which led him back.
Again, and again, and again.
Every path.
Every possibility.
Every explanation.
Led to the same conclusion.
He is stronger than me.
Guren’s jaw tightened.
No...
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening.
If he is stronger than me... then why?
Why remain silent?
Why avoid attention?
Why not take the throne?
Why not rise?
Why not dominate?
There was no reason.
Unless—
He recalled the words spoken by the maid.
Her tone.
Her confidence.
Her unwavering belief.
"Young master doesn’t need to do anything. If he wished, he could crush you all."
Guren’s eyes darkened further.
He does not want attention...
He does not want fame...
He wants to be left alone...
A low breath escaped him.
Ridiculous.
And yet—
The more he thought about it, the more it aligned.
A person with overwhelming power who had no interest in ruling.
A person who avoided entanglements.
A person who even rejected a royal marriage.
If that is true...
His gaze sharpened.
Then he is more dangerous than anyone I have faced.
Because such a person could not be predicted.
Could not be controlled.
Could not be bound.
And then—
His thoughts shifted.
To her.
The maid.
The one who stood beside Clay.
The one who—
Killed his knight.
His fingers pressed harder into the throne.
Reynold...
He remembered the moment.
The instant.
There was no warning.
No presence.
No fluctuation of mana.
Nothing.
And then—
A head rolled.
Clean, precise and extremely cold.
Even now, when he thought about it, he could not understand it.
How?
He was not an ordinary man.
His senses were honed through years of battle, through countless encounters, through a lifetime of standing at the peak.
Even in a weakened state, even after facing that monster, he should have been able to sense something.
Anything.
But there was nothing.
Not a trace.
Guren’s eyes narrowed.
Was I truly that exhausted?
He questioned himself.
Was my perception dulled to such an extent that I failed to notice her?
He did not like that answer.
Because it implied weakness.
And he did not accept weakness.
Or...
Another thought formed.
Slower.
Heavier.
She is simply that skilled.
An assassin capable of bypassing his senses completely.
An assassin capable of killing a Holy Knight without resistance.
An assassin who moved without leaving a trace.
If that is true...
His gaze grew colder.
Then she is a threat.
A serious one.
Because if she could do that to his knight—
She could do that to him.
No...
He straightened slightly.
I will confirm it.
His eyes flickered faintly.
When that brat arrives...
I will see it for myself.
If he is truly powerful...
If she is truly dangerous...
Then I will know.
Before him, the ministers continued speaking, their voices rising as discussions grew more heated.
"Your Majesty, the dungeon must be sealed immediately!"
"No, sealing it is not enough! That creature regenerates and adapts. If it breaks free, the consequences will be catastrophic!"
"We must send elite forces, perhaps even request assistance from neighboring kingdoms!"
"Foolish! Sending more troops will only result in more casualties. That beast grows stronger with every attack!"
"What then? Do we simply leave it there?"
Voices overlapped.
Arguments clashed.
Each minister pushing their own perspective, their own solution, their own fear.
"The reports clearly indicate that the Minotaur has already adapted to physical attacks!"
"Then we use magic!"
"It has adapted to magic as well!"
"Then divine techniques!"
"And if it adapts to those too?"
Silence fell briefly.
Then another voice rose.
"We cannot allow such a threat to exist unchecked!"
The tension grew.
The urgency became heavier.
Finally—
A voice cut through it all.
"You all do not need to do that."
The hall fell silent instantly.
All eyes turned to the throne.
Guren sat there, calm, composed, his gaze steady.
"As long as that brat is there," he said, his tone even, "he can deal with it easily."
The ministers froze.
The word hung in the air.
That brat...
It did not take long for them to know quickly.
Their minds moved quickly.
Their eyes widened slightly.
Clay Valmont.
At the front of the line, a man stepped forward.
Cross Valmont.
He dropped to one knee immediately.
"My king," he said, his voice firm yet respectful, "please do not jest in such a manner. My son, Clay Valmont, while talented, cannot possibly handle such a threat."
Guren looked at him silently.
Then—
"So you do not know," he said slowly, "or you are pretending not to know that your son is more powerful than me?"
The hall went still.
Completely still.
Cross’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Impossible!" he said without hesitation. "That is impossible, my king!"
He bowed his head again.
"My son may have talent, but surpassing Your Majesty... such a thing cannot be true!"
Guren watched him carefully.
His gaze sharp.
Cross...
He knew this man.
Not just as a king to a minister.
But as a man to another man.
They had known each other for years.
He knew his character.
His loyalty.
His pride.
His flaws.
He is not lying.
The realization came naturally.
Cross’s reaction was genuine.
There was no hesitation.
No calculation.
No attempt to hide anything.
He truly does not know.
Guren leaned back slightly.
So even his father is unaware...
That made things even more interesting.
This brat...
He let out a faint breath.
"You may rise," Guren said.
Cross obeyed immediately, though his expression remained unsettled.
"I do not wish for your son to misunderstand my intentions," Guren continued. "But everything will depend on his attitude when he arrives."
He paused briefly before adding,
"You may discover something about your child today."
Cross froze.
His mind raced.
Discover something...?
About Clay...?
His son...?
His heart tightened slightly.
Stronger than the Holy King...?
No... that cannot be...
And yet—
The king’s words lingered, heavy and unsettling.
Why? His King was not someone who jokes stuff like these.
Before anything else could be said—
A Eunuch shouted!
"Frazanna Goldfren and Maxwell Calloway entered!"
