Irene Decided to Die - Chapter 16
“Of course. It was thoughtless of me to detain someone who is unwell.”
His smile seemed serpentine as he spoke.
Irene bit her lip involuntarily. Her body was trembling noticeably, and the tremor was felt by Burt as well.
“I shall see you again.”
With those words, Burt quickly strode away from the scene.
Watching them depart, Roxon narrowed his eyes.
“Met the goddess?”
He thought it was nonsensical. He couldn’t believe that the goddess would choose someone with such tainted traces as a Saint, much less embrace them warmly.
It hadn’t been long since even he hadn’t heard from the goddess. He didn’t want to believe that Irene, who had just become a Saint, had heard the voice of the goddess.
“Tsk.”
Roxon clicked his tongue.
“I will enter the prayer room.”
“Yes, High Priest.”
He shifted his gaze from Burt’s departing back and entered the prayer room, intending to ask the goddess about the true Saint.
However, no matter how much he prayed, the goddess did not respond to his prayers.
Having walked a distance where Roxon’s group was no longer visible, Burt initiated a conversation with Irene.
“Your body is trembling.”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“That can’t be.”
Burt gently embraced her small, quivering body and shook his head.
“I said I am fine!”
Irene, belatedly showing anger, tried to push against his chest, but to no effect.
Despite becoming a Saint, she was still too powerless to do anything significant. This only added to her frustration, causing Irene to bite her lip again.
Her hands, lacking the strength to push him away any longer, dropped to her sides.
“Let’s go back.”
No response came this time, but her limp body signaled agreement.
Burt carefully took a step, heading back to the original room of the Saint.
He intended to take Irene back to her room to rest, as she seemed very tired.
“Irene!”
If it hadn’t been for encountering the Duke of Rostelle, Irene’s family, they could have proceeded as planned.
“Irene!”
The Duke of Rostelle, seemingly not noticing Burt at all, rushed over and examined Irene.
Her eyelids, which had been weakly closed, trembled slightly before revealing red eyes. What was contained within those eyes was deep loathing, but it seemed he did not notice.
“Now that you’ve become a Saint, behaving like this! As one who serves the goddess, shouldn’t you conduct yourself with propriety?”
The way he so naturally reprimanded her made Irene’s eyebrows twitch.
The command to conduct herself properly seemed meaningless to her.
While she was lost in thought, Burt intervened.
“Am I invisible here?”
At Burt’s words, the Duke of Rostelle finally seemed to realize his presence and bowed his head.
“Greetings to the great king of the north.”
“It has been a long time, Duke of Rostelle.”
At that, the Duke of Rostelle smiled. Seeing his usually stiff face smile felt strange.
“Did you come to see the Saintess?”
“Yes.”
The Duke of Rostelle immediately affirmed.
“How could I stay away when my daughter has become a Saint?”
What would he do if he didn’t stay away? Burt was taken aback. It seemed Irene felt the same way.
The small body he held trembled in a different sense. As if to soothe her, Burt gently held her while the Duke of Rostelle stepped forward.
“Please put Irene down.”
“I’m sorry, but the Saint is in poor condition and has difficulty walking.”
“It doesn’t seem proper for a servant of the goddess to be leaning on another man.”
“Haven’t I said her condition was poor?”
“Even so, she should try to walk on her own.”
There was no reasoning with him. Was the Duke of Rostelle always like this?
I thought he was quite sensible, but he seemed more lively than usual, as if excited by something.
As Burt pondered what to do, Irene tugged at the hem of his clothes.
“Please put me down.”
At her whispered request, he reluctantly let her down.
“Oh, Irene.”
The Duke of Rostelle approached with a pleased expression, but Irene, looking weary, stepped back.
The Duke’s expression, usually stern and cold, softened, but it still didn’t show the affection she had longed for.
There was a time when she thought becoming a Saint would win her father’s love. But now, having become one and facing him, she realized it was a vain dream.
Such a man would never love her.
‘I was foolish.’
If only she had realized this sooner. She wouldn’t have wasted efforts trying to be loved.
The breath that escaped her chest stretched long.
Should she cry? Should she scream? Should she confront him about why he abandoned her and now dared to return? How would the Duke of Rostelle react?
Numerous thoughts flitted through her mind. Yet, she couldn’t easily voice any of them.
