Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 21
Iora gazed dryly at the scenery outside the carriage. Her whole body ached and ached, as if all her energy had been drained from her at once.
‘No wonder,’ she thought.
Raising her hand, she noticed her awkwardly thin wrists. Iora tried to lift the corner of her mouth, but her lips, reflected in the carriage’s glass, refused to budge.
A few days ago, Iora’s heart had stopped like a broken machine. She remembers running a very high fever from the stress of her confinement. By the time the maids who came and went to bring her food found her, it was too late.
The moment her consciousness started fading, all she could think about was how suffocating it felt.
I want to get out.
She thought, staring at the firmly closed door. But when she opened her eyes again, what she saw was her mother’s cold, icy stare.
“You don’t seem to like anything. Why did I give birth to an inadequate child like you?”
Her heart throbbed and she cried in pain, but her mother turned away as if her waking up was confirmation enough. The maids, looking like they were dying of annoyance, scrubbed Iora’s body with rough hands. She wanted to call out to her mother with trembling lips, but she held herself back.
The door that had closed so heartlessly never reopened.
Two days passed, and suddenly, Iora was being prepared by the maids to get dressed. She had been out of class for a week, and word was coming from the palace that she had to return.
‘Even in this much pain.’
Seeing her father and mother looking at her like garbage they wanted to get rid of, and her brother muttering profanities at her, made her aching body shrink. Under their gaze, she felt like she had become nothing more than a crawling insect.
“Ah!”
The carriage jolted for a moment. Iora hugged herself with her arms, trying to stifle the pain.
“Ugh.”
Her whole body ached as if she had been stabbed. Even the slightest brush of wind was like needles on her skin, and her limbs were so weak, she felt like she would collapse at the slightest step.
As she carefully wiped away the cold sweat from her face, the carriage came to a stop. It seemed they had finally arrived.
The family coachman opened the door and ordered her to dismount with an impatient voice. “…I’m sick and tired of this.”
Iora glanced at the estate set up in the palace for the holy saint. She furrowed her brow slightly and pressed her temples. Even without seeing or hearing, it felt like she was hearing the teacher’s nagging echoing loudly in her mind. How many more times would she be compared and insulted today, and how many more times would she have to cower and apologize?
The grand mansion looked like a prison to her.
* * *
“Ahem, I think that concludes today’s lesson, young lady.”
“…Thank you.”
Today, by some miracle, the teacher didn’t berate her. There were no comparisons made with Arkanda as was habit. Perplexed by this unusual behavior, Iora watched silently as the teacher, pushing up their glasses, wrinkled their forehead, sniffed, and abruptly left the room.
What else had I done wrong?
Her heart pounded with the now habitual certainty. Iora turned her head from the glaring sunlight streaming through the window and, for a moment, was taken aback.
‘My face. It’s so…ugly.’
Reflected in the mirror was a girl with violet irises. But there was none of the liveliness one would expect from someone her age. The sunken eyes, dry lips, dull expression, and vacant gaze—it all made her look like a patient, like a dried fish, withered and twisted
She wondered what difference did it make if they made her up or adorned her with sparkling jewels? That might be why the teacher left without saying anything.
‘Maybe it’s because she tried to kill herself, but her face looks even worse.’
‘What does someone with such a face believe in to hold onto His Highness the Prince?’
‘I heard the divorce petition has finally reached the courts. Isn’t this all about the conflict between Marquis Ribandt and the Crown?’
Upon hearing the murmuring voices, Iora turned her head to find the maids scattering like vultures when she faced them. The gossip, spoken so close that she could almost hear it, was a terrible insult.
However, Iora had neither the strength nor conviction to uphold her family’s honor. A suppressed groan escaped her lips as she carefully rose to her feet, a momentary twinge of pain in her leg.
“…I want to lie down.”
As she walked through the halls of the manor, she silently listened to the voices of the maids as they deliberately approached and then distanced themselves. Even if it was just gossip, the judgments they spread were noteworthy. If there was one particularly damning rumor, she would undoubtedly have to face her father’s wrath again.
‘How dare Lord Ribandt refuse a visit from Lady Arcanda? How can he do such a thing?’
‘Shameless. And then to come out looking like that? Do you think she’s protesting because she’s hurt?’
‘The relationship between His Highness and Lady Arcanda is already well-established, so what is she doing here? Does she really think she can surpass Lady Arcanda and become the Crown Princess?’
Iora’s clenched fists were drenched with cold sweat. What on earth happened in the last few days? Could it be related to the Crown Prince requesting a divorce and the Marquis Ribandt refusing and standing firm?
Iora grimaced. The maids showed too much hostility for this simply to be attributed to that fact alone. It was just like when those positive rumors circulated about Arcanda…
“Ah!”
Iora abruptly stopped in her tracks. It was as if that nightmarish day from a few days ago had replayed itself. A woman smiling sweetly and a man attentively gazing at her and then turning his head upon hearing her sigh.
‘Of all times.’
It was foolish. She should have turned away as soon as she saw them. Iora’s lips slightly contorted, but the maids around her held their breaths as if they had been waiting for this moment. What should she do? Amid those seemingly accusing glances, Iora stayed silent.
Then, a beautiful lady with a blooming smile looked at Iora. Waving cheerfully, she called out, “Iora!”
The two people were Saint Candidate Arcanda and Crown Prince Ovid.
Iora flinched, her heart skipped a beat once again.
