My Maids are All Final Villainesses

Chapter 117: Observing

The following days became unexpectedly busy.

Clay had originally assumed that finding one person on an entire continent would be difficult.

He was wrong.

Finding ten specific people on an entire continent was far worse.

Every morning began the same way.

He woke up.

Read reports.

Compared names.

Compared locations.

Compared dream fragments.

Compared witness statements.

And by the end of the day, his head hurt.

Several times he even questioned whether he should have ignored everything and continued relaxing in the border town.

Unfortunately—

Every time that thought appeared, he would remember the dreams.

The halos.

The vows.

The hatred.

And immediately continue working.

Inside his study, dozens of maps were spread across tables.

Markers.

Reports.

Travel records.

Merchant testimonies.

Guard reports.

Everything had been gathered.

Even Maid Cy looked surprised by how seriously he was treating the matter.

"Young master."

"What?"

"You look more diligent than when managing the town."

Clay looked up from a pile of documents.

"That’s because those documents don’t potentially turn into future protagonists."

Maid Cy blinked.

"...I see."

She clearly did not.

But Clay was too busy to explain.

Meanwhile, the system remained its usual unhelpful self.

Whenever Clay asked for a location—

Insufficient data.

Whenever Clay asked whether one of them was truly destined—

Insufficient data.

Whenever Clay asked whether fate was preparing something horrible—

Insufficient data.

Eventually—

He stopped asking.

The answers were becoming predictable.

A week passed.

Then another.

Search parties returned.

Some found nothing.

Others found false leads.

One report turned out to be about an entirely different person.

Another described a man who matched the dream perfectly—

Until they discovered he had died three years ago.

Clay nearly threw the report into a fireplace.

Then there were the rumors.

Countless rumors.

Every village seemed to have its own tragedy.

Every region had survivors. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

Every city had someone seeking revenge against evolved beasts.

Trying to identify the correct person among them felt impossible.

One afternoon, Clay sat inside his study while staring at a wall covered with notes.

His expression was completely blank.

Maid Cy quietly entered.

"Young master."

"What now?"

"We found another candidate."

Clay sighed.

"The seventh this week."

"This one is different."

Clay immediately looked up.

Different.

That word got his attention.

Maid Cy approached and handed over a scroll.

Clay accepted it.

Then began reading.

At first—

Nothing seemed unusual.

A ruined settlement.

Survivors.

Beast attack.

The usual tragedy.

Then—

His eyes froze on a specific line.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

He sat upright.

Then continued reading.

His expression gradually became serious.

The report continued.

A lone survivor.

A young woman.

Scarred.

Traveling alone.

Refused assistance.

Possessed unusual determination.

Witnesses claimed she frequently questioned travelers about evolved beasts.

And according to several accounts—

She often asked the same question.

Had anyone discovered who caused the calamities?

Clay’s fingers tightened around the scroll.

Then he kept reading.

The details became more specific.

The destroyed village.

The number of family members lost.

The timing.

The location.

Everything.

Absolutely everything.

His heart began beating faster.

Not from excitement.

From recognition.

Because he knew this story.

He had already seen it.

Not in reality.

In the dream.

The burning village.

The dead family.

The young woman kneeling among corpses.

The vow.

The halo.

The chosen one.

For several moments, Clay remained completely silent.

Then he slowly stood.

Walked toward the window.

Looked outside.

And returned to the table.

Then he read the report again.

Carefully.

Word by word.

Line by line.

Looking for mistakes.

Looking for inconsistencies.

Looking for anything that would prove he was wrong.

Unfortunately—

The more he read—

The more convinced he became.

Finally, Clay lowered the scroll.

The room felt strangely quiet.

Even Maid Cy seemed to understand the significance of the moment.

"Young master?"

Clay exhaled slowly.

Then looked toward the map spread across the table.

His finger moved across the continent.

Past mountains.

Past forests.

Past rivers.

Until it stopped on a small mark.

The reported location.

The place where she had last been seen.

For several moments, nobody spoke.

Then finally—

A faint smile appeared on Clay’s face.

Not a happy smile.

Not a relaxed smile.

The smile of someone who had just confirmed a suspicion.

A suspicion he had desperately hoped was wrong.

Yet it wasn’t.

Slowly, he tapped the map.

Once.

Twice.

Then nodded to himself.

After countless false leads.

After weeks of searching.

After enough reports to fill an entire room—

He had finally found one.

One of the people from his dreams.

Clay did not leave immediately.

Nor did he order Maid Cy to capture the woman.

Nor did he send Borzoi charging toward her location.

Instead—

He observed.

Very carefully.

Very patiently.

If there was one thing he had learned from dealing with Maxwell, it was that acting too quickly often created bigger problems.

And Clay hated bigger problems.

Especially when those problems had a habit of becoming main characters.

Inside his study, Clay sat quietly while reports continued arriving.

Each report described the young woman.

Her movements.

Her activities.

The places she visited.

The people she spoke to.

The questions she asked.

Everything.

At first, nothing appeared unusual.

She traveled alone.

She hunted beasts.

She occasionally accepted small jobs.

She rarely stayed in one place for long.

A perfectly normal survivor.

Yet the more reports arrived—

The more unusual she became.

One report described how she survived a beast attack that should have killed her.

Another report described her defeating opponents stronger than herself.

Then another report mentioned that she somehow discovered a hidden cave containing valuable resources.

Then another.

Then another.

Clay slowly lowered the newest scroll.

"...System."

Listening.

"Am I imagining things?"

Negative.

Clay’s eyes narrowed.

Because he knew this pattern.

He knew it far too well.

The opportunities.

The lucky encounters.

The convenient discoveries.

The miraculous survivals.

The strange coincidences.

Every single one felt familiar.

Uncomfortably familiar.

Almost as if the world itself wanted her to succeed.

Almost as if destiny were gently pushing her forward.

Clay immediately disliked that thought.

Very much.

Then he opened another report.

This one contained information from a merchant caravan.

According to witnesses, the young woman had stumbled across a group of bandits.

Unfortunately for the bandits—

They possessed a map leading to hidden treasure.

The bandits died.

The treasure became hers.

Clay stared at the report.

Then stared some more.

Finally—

He looked upward.

"...Really?"

The system remained silent.

Clay threw the report onto the table.

"At this point, she’s collecting opportunities faster than I collect headaches."

Maid Cy silently stood nearby.

Then asked.

"Young master, is there a problem?"

Clay immediately pointed toward the reports.

"Look at this."

Maid Cy accepted the documents.

Several moments later—

Even she looked slightly surprised.

"That is unusual."

"Exactly."

Clay crossed his arms.

Then stood up.

For the next several days—

The observations continued.

More reports arrived.

More information accumulated.

And Clay became increasingly convinced of one thing.

This woman was not ordinary.

Not even remotely.

The evidence kept piling up.

Whenever danger appeared—

She survived.

Whenever opportunities appeared—

She found them.

Whenever resources appeared—

They somehow ended up in her hands.

The pattern was becoming impossible to ignore.

Then—

A particularly interesting report arrived.

The report described how she had entered an ancient ruin.

Several experienced adventurers had attempted exploring the ruin beforehand.

All failed.

Yet somehow—

The young woman emerged alive.

And not only alive.

Stronger.

Much stronger.

Clay immediately sat upright.

His expression became serious.

Then he read the report again.

And again.

And again.

Finally—

He placed the scroll down.

The room became silent.

His fingers slowly tapped the table.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then a smile appeared on his face.

A very dangerous smile.

Because after weeks of uncertainty—

He finally had enough information.

Not proof.

Not certainty.

But enough.

Enough to satisfy his curiosity.

Enough to justify further investigation.

Enough to see whether his suspicions were real.

Slowly, Clay stood up from his chair.

Maid Cy immediately noticed.

"Young master?"

Clay walked toward the window.

Outside, the Border Town remained peaceful.

People laughed.

Merchants traded.

Workers moved through the streets.

Everything looked normal.

Yet somewhere beyond the horizon—

A future chosen one might be growing stronger.

And if the dream was correct—

This would only be the beginning.

For several moments, Clay remained silent.

Then—

A smirk slowly appeared on his face.

The kind of smirk that usually meant someone else was about to have a very bad day.

He folded his arms.

Looked toward the distant horizon.

And quietly said,

"Why not test her?"

Clay remained standing by the window.

The evening sunlight stretched across the Border Town, painting the streets in shades of gold and orange.

From a distance, he could hear merchants shouting.

Children laughing.

Workers returning home.

Everything looked peaceful.

Normal.

Yet his mind remained focused on a single person.

The woman from his dream.

The possible chosen one.

The possible future headache.

The possible future protagonist.

Or perhaps—

Just an unlucky survivor whom he was overthinking about.

Clay honestly hoped it was the last one.

Unfortunately, hope had not been particularly reliable lately.

Slowly, he crossed his arms.

Then spoke.

"System."

The familiar voice answered immediately.

Listening.

Clay narrowed his eyes.

"What do you think about this?"

The system remained silent for a moment.

Then answered.

Clarification requested.

Clay pointed toward the reports scattered across the table.

"The woman."

"The dream."

"The chosen one nonsense."

"The possibility that fate is trying something."

He paused briefly.

"Testing her."

"Is that a good idea?"

The system did not answer immediately.

For several seconds—

Silence filled the room.

Then finally—

Affirmative.

Clay blinked.

That answer came surprisingly quickly.

"Affirmative?"

Affirmative.

"A good idea?"

Affirmative.

Clay immediately became suspicious.

Very suspicious.

Usually the system loved being vague.

Now it was answering directly.

That alone was enough to make him nervous.

"Explain."

The system replied.

Verification is recommended.

Clay rubbed his chin.

"Verification."

Correct.

The system continued.

Host currently possesses insufficient information.

"The words you love most."

Insufficient information.

"See?"

The system ignored him.

Verification may determine whether the dream possesses predictive properties.

Clay’s expression gradually became thoughtful.

The system continued.

If the woman behaves consistently with dream observations, probability of future significance increases.

Clay slowly nodded.

That made sense.

A disturbing amount of sense.

After all—

Everything currently rested on a dream.

A very realistic dream.

A dream that somehow predicted real people.

But a dream nonetheless.

And Clay preferred facts.

Facts were easier to deal with.

Facts did not suddenly turn into divine revelations.

Usually. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

The system continued.

Verification may also reveal unknown variables.

Clay narrowed his eyes.

"What kind of variables?"

Potential inheritances.

Potential blessings.

Potential destiny markers.

Potential external interference.

Potential fate alignment.

The more the system listed—

The less comfortable Clay became.

Then another thought appeared.

A very important one.

"What if the dream was wrong?"

The system paused briefly.

Then answered.

Verification would confirm that possibility.

Clay immediately nodded.

"Exactly."

"That’s what I’m hoping for."

The system remained silent.

Clay sighed.

Unfortunately—

Even he did not sound convinced.

Then he returned to the table.

His fingers lightly tapped against one of the reports.

The woman had already survived several incidents that seemed almost absurd.

Enough to make him suspicious.

Enough to make him curious.

Enough to make him wonder whether fate had indeed begun moving again.

Then another thought struck him.

Clay’s expression immediately became cautious.

"Wait."

Listening.

"If she really is some chosen one..."

His voice trailed off.

The system waited.

Clay continued.

"And if I test her..."

"Will fate suddenly decide I am the villain?"

A reasonable concern.

Very reasonable.

After all, his luck with fate had never been particularly comforting.

The system answered.

Current probability remains acceptable.

Clay frowned.

"Acceptable?"

Acceptable.

"That doesn’t sound reassuring."

The system ignored him again.

Testing does not inherently constitute hostility.

Clay slowly relaxed.

A little.

Only a little.

Then the system added.

Especially if conducted indirectly.

That immediately caught Clay’s attention.

"Indirectly?"

Affirmative.

Clay’s eyes narrowed.

Now that sounded much better.

Indirect tests.

Safe tests.

Tests that did not involve him personally standing in front of a possible future protagonist.

Those were the kinds of tests Clay preferred.

The system continued.

If the dream possesses predictive value, verification is strategically beneficial.

Clay thought about that for a long moment.

Then another.

Then another.

Eventually—

He nodded.

Slowly.

Reluctantly.

Because the system was right.

He hated when that happened.

The dream had shown him something.

Reality had partially confirmed it.

And now—

The only logical next step was finding out how much of it was true.

If the dream was wrong—

Wonderful.

He could relax.

If the dream was right—

Then he needed to know now rather than later.

Before halos started descending from the sky.

Before fate began creating more problems.

Before another Maxwell appeared.

That last possibility alone convinced him.

Finally—

Clay exhaled.

Then looked toward Maid Cy.

The maid was still standing quietly nearby.

Waiting.

Patient.

Reliable.

The exact opposite of every main character he had ever encountered.

His eyes moved back toward the reports.

Toward the woman’s name.

Toward the location where she had last been seen.

And slowly—

A smile appeared on his face.

Not a large smile.

Just enough to show interest.

Enough to reveal curiosity.

Enough to reveal a plan was beginning to form.

Then he looked toward empty air and said,

"So even you think it’s a good idea."

The system answered immediately.

Affirmative.

"It would help determine whether your dream was real."

Clay stared at the reports for several more seconds.

Then slowly nodded.

"Fair enough."