Irene Decided to Die - Chapter 43
Burt said,
“It’ll get you sick.”
“It’s alright, I can handle this much.”
“You always just say it’s alright.”
It really was alright. Having endured far greater pains before, this was manageable.
Irene gently closed her eyes and then opened them again. Slowly, the rain was stopping. The sun peeked through the clouds, and the animals that had gathered began to scatter in various directions.
It was the end of a miracle.
“Let’s go inside now.”
As Irene tried to get up, Burt supported her. It was unclear where the high priests were at such a time. Noticing her puzzled look, Burt spoke up.
“Isn’t it more comfortable with me than with a priest?”
He was right. Even though the priests’ attitudes had changed, she was still uncomfortable.
Supported by Burt, Irene moved forward.
“Saintess.”
Grein looked at her with a moved expression, while Roxon’s face was harder to read.
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
After a brief exchange, Irene walked back inside.
There was something that needed to be resolved before returning to her quarters. She didn’t know when another opportunity might come, if not today.
Instead of heading to her quarters, she then went to the area where the nobles were waiting. Burt frowned slightly, but he did not stop her.
Initially, Duke Rostelle was furious.
How could the saintess appear dressed like that? She looks almost demonic. The goddess might even be angered.
“Utter madness!”
Lexion held back Duke Rostelle as he tried to rush towards Irene.
“You must not, Father.”
What good would that do? Was he planning to forcefully tell the saintess to change her clothes? Such actions might have been possible in the past, but not anymore.
It was only after Lexion intervened that Duke Rostelle regained his composure.
“What foolishness!”
However, regaining his composure did not mean his anger had subsided. Duke Rostelle looked anxiously and angrily at Irene.
He gritted his teeth as whispers of doubt reached his ears. Then, the miracle occurred.
Rain fell from the sky, and tender sprouts emerged from the earth. The melodious chirping of birds could be heard from anywhere.
The murmuring of the crowd quieted down, and soon, cheers erupted.
“It’s the saint!”
Finally, Duke Rostelle’s face, which had been tense all along, softened.
Fortunately, his daughter had proven herself magnificently as the saint. The revival of the Rostelle family was now almost guaranteed.
Duke Rostelle held back his desire to jump for joy and smiled instead. People who had been watching cautiously began to gather around him.
“Oh, Duke Rostelle. To have a saintess emerge from your family truly shows you are blessed by the goddess.”
“Haha, indeed. Our family’s lineage began with the goddess.”
“Congratulations!”
As flattery piled up, Duke Rostelle’s pride soared. Lexion looked on anxiously from the side, but there was nothing he could do at the moment.
‘You are getting too carried away.’
Lexion was reminded of the old Irene, the child who used to beg for love with displeasure in her eyes.
It appeared that her father was comforted by that, but could that sentiment truly have persisted until now?.Lexion couldn’t be so sure.
A sense of foreboding made his heart race.
And then, having just completed her appointment ceremony, Irene entered the inner part of the temple, leaning on Burt for support. Her gaze turned towards them.
As she appeared, the noisy temple interior quieted down. Everyone looked at Irene with eyes full of anticipation.
“Oh, Irene!”
Duke Rostelle approached her with a warm welcome. Irene, who had been supported by Burt, straightened up to greet him.
“Congratulations! I’ve always known you would become the saintess.”
Her lips curled gently at his quite affectionate voice.
To an onlooker, it appeared as a joyous reunion, and everyone laughed together. The sight of a father welcoming his daughter, look, isn’t that quite pleasant?
However, Lexion couldn’t smile.
‘Her eyes are not smiling.’
Unaware, Duke Rostelle kept joyful and continued talking to Irene.
“I am so happy as your father!”
“As my father?”
Her lips maintained a curve, but the voice that leaked through was cold.
“Yes, father!”
“It seems you are under some misapprehension.”
“Irene?”
Only then did Duke Rostelle realize that the atmosphere was not as benign as he had thought.
Even if he had been momentarily blinded by the glory right in front of him, he had lived his life navigating the political arena. He couldn’t be completely clueless.
Watching Duke Rostelle, Irene spoke in a strong voice,
“I have no father.”
