Irene Decided to Die - Chapter 21
“Stop it.”
Mary cut off Lani’s continuing words. It wasn’t just Lani who was feeling uneasy now.
All the other maids felt similarly, but Mary had always been especially proactive in tormenting Irene. She disliked her.
The rather pretty woman wanted to climb higher. That’s why she had tried so hard, but in the end, all she could become was a maid of the ducal house.
Then, this ominous child had rolled in from somewhere and became the daughter of the duke’s house without any effort.
‘No, at first, I did try to take care of her.’
Yes, that was true. But the child had neither an endearing appearance nor personality. Sometimes, looking at her was so chilling.
Unknowingly, she started to bully her more and more, and as the Duke of Rostelle dismissed these actions nonchalantly, she began to carry out her deeds with impunity.
That was all.
“We need to be resolute.”
Mary said, as if making a promise to herself.
“What?”
“Nothing. Let’s unpack our things in the quarters first.”
“Ugh.”
The maids unpacked their belongings in the quarters with reluctance.
The quarters were very nice, but now was not the time to enjoy them. Thinking about what was to come only made them feel more anxious.
* * *
These days, the Duke of Rostelle found every day to be joyful. It was because, ever since the news spread that Irene had become a saint, the nobles who had distanced themselves from him were now seeking him out.
“Congratulations. It’s enviable that your family has produced a saint!”
Many people bowed to him, whispering sweet words.
The Duke of Rostelle laughed as he saw those who had shunned Irene when she was pointed out as an assassin now crawling back to him.
“All of this must be the grace of the goddess.”
It felt like all the hardships he had faced were being compensated.
Even Irene, whom he had so disliked, began to look different to him. Not as a mistake of the goddess, but as a gift.
Lexion was anxious about such a father but did not voice his concerns. He thought nothing would change now that a saint had been chosen.
Irene, once a source of anxiety, now greeted them with a smile. Yes, she had welcomed them.
“Welcome.”
A slender woman, wrapped in bandages all over her body, greeted them with a smile.
The sight of her smiling broadly, despite being covered in wounds, felt bizarre, but it seemed that was only Lexion’s impression.
The Duke of Rostelle, her father, spread his arms and smiled back.
Of course, he only spread his arms; he did not hug Irene or draw any closer. There was still a sense of unease remaining.
“Oh, Irene. Did you receive the gift?”
“Of course.”
“I had a hard time choosing something you would like.”
At those words, Irene covered her mouth with her hand and laughed.
Raising her hand made the bandages wrapped around her wounds more visible. The bandages covering her fingertips were still dyed red.
Lexion frowned involuntarily at the sight. A considerable amount of time had passed since she fell from the tower, but those damned wounds seemed not to heal at all.
‘It must be because sacred power doesn’t work on a saint.’
The treatments from the physicians must have had their limits. Lexion thought this and suppressed his anxiety.
“So, what did you like the most?”
“I liked everything.”
“But there must be something you liked more than the others, right?”
Watching the two of them converse with smiles, they seemed like an ordinary father and daughter. Lexion felt a sense of dissonance at this sight once again.
‘Ordinary father and daughter.’
Nonsense. Could the father and Irene really present the image of an ordinary father and daughter? Is that even possible?
“If I had to choose, maybe the sword, the sword perhaps?”
“Ah, you mean that treasured sword.”
Lexion knew of the treasured sword too. It was a gift given by a noble family when they came under the Duke of Rostelle.
The elaborately decorated sword was quite a famous blade.
Lexion had coveted it too, but his father had gifted it directly to Irene. Such a thing would have been unthinkable in the past.
‘Irene doesn’t need a sword, does she?’
‘But it’s beautifully made. She will like it too.’
Despite Lexion’s protest, the Duke of Rostelle said so and added the treasured sword to the gift list.
And now, Irene was saying that was what she liked the most.
“You have an eye for things! I also thought that was the coolest.”
“Wow, really?”
The Duke of Rostelle continued to engage in friendly conversation with Irene.
It was then that Irene and Lexion’s eyes met.
The red eyes he had always found creepy since childhood met his gaze.
The deep, inscrutable red eyes widened.
However, Lexion couldn’t return a smile like the Duke of Rostelle. The smile was creepily unsettling.
‘It should have been Ramiel who became the saint!’
Lexion had to suppress the urge to click his tongue. He couldn’t fathom why such a woman had become the saint according to the goddess’s will.
“Take care.”
“Yes, see you again!”
