Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 46
The person standing on the terrace, where Iora and Vigros had created a scene reminiscent of a sweet night, didn’t seem surprised even as Vigros reappeared as if popping out from thin air. Instead, they looked at him with a rather solemn expression before tossing a retort.
“A truly sweet moment of romance, my Lord.”
“Enjoying the show? Then you should pay for it. Don’t try to freeload shamelessly.”
“I feel obliged to give advice. Teasing such a young, innocent, and lovely maiden, what will become of you?”
Vigros approached almost as if floating, folded his arms, and casually sat on the railing. Then, he glanced at the terrace that his subordinate had been observing. Lake’s instincts were right. This was the most fun Vigros had in a long time.
“Do you really plan on taking that young lady as your wife? Oh my, my Lord, you seem genuinely affected.”
“Ignorant. I was just being nice to her. Where do you get off calling it affection?”
“Still, there’s only a two-year age difference.” Having said that, Lake feigned a small exclamation of surprise.”Heh, it never ceases to amaze me when I realize that my lord is only twenty years old! He may look young, but the way he acts screams old man…”
“It would be wise to stop teasing. Want to plummet straight down from here to the bottom of the lake?”
Vigros was secretly perturbed. The squirrel may have been small and skinny, but was he really that out of his element? He’d just danced and talked with someone he felt good about, and now it was all ruined because of some insubordinate fool who was talking out of his a*s.
“Get that sour look off your face. You’re the one who kept nagging me to get a relationship.”
Lake swiped the corner of his bone-dry eye as if wiping away a tear.
“Well, that maiden is so pitiful. I’ve heard she secretly admires the Prince, and imagine how high her hopes must be. But once she realizes she’s caught the eyes of a sinister serpent ready to gulp down dozens of chicks, she’ll weep bitterly…”
“Ha, you want to talk about weeping?”
Lake’s face grew puzzled as irritation flared in Vigros’s eyes. He looked at Vigros suspiciously, then asked cautiously, “Are you being serious?”
Vigros lifted his legs off the railing, sending his carefully wrapped black shoes flying. Then, in a voice devoid of emotion, he replied, “She won’t even get the chance. That girl, she’s going to die soon.”
“What? You’re just throwing out a horrible remark like that willy-nilly?”
“It’s the truth.”
Iora. Iora von Ribandt.
How a girl like that could be considered a candidate for sainthood was beyond him—he realized that as soon as he saw her. The other girl, Arcanda, was truly clever for recognizing her as the true saint from a glance.
“It was like a battle between a meek, naive squirrel and a sly, devious fox.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“A candidate for sainthood is supposed to make the most of it. But you’ve seen it, right? The squirrel has no dreams or hopes. It’s only natural she’ll vanish, swallowed by the light if she stays that way.”
“…Earlier, what did you mean by poison?”
Vigros swallowed a bitter laugh. Since realizing his own power, he had sworn never to interfere with the lives of ordinary humans. But the crumbling gaze he witnessed made him blurt those words out.
He’d grant any wish—she just had to ask.
“In her current state, if the poison spreads thickly through her body, she won’t last more than a year without an antidote.”
“Seems like you’re quite concerned. Is it because she’s a saint candidate?”
Maybe it was because she was different on the inside than she was on the outside: a meek, shy, poor girl on the outside, a loud, boisterous voice on the inside. The discrepancy was the first thing that intrigued him. And then he wondered.
“That depends on how Iora handles it from now on. Predictable partners are boring. If she just stands there trembling, I won’t lend a hand.”
Lake clicked his tongue as he looked at the bastard. “Indeed, the young lady was right. You’re a very mean man.”
“And who’s the one pledging allegiance to such a wretch as their master?”
It’s amusing. Everyone called the girl a villain and cursed her, yet here are a couple of scoundrels considering her pitiable and sympathetic. Oh, wait, there was another one who did so. Vigros chuckled as he thought about Ovid struggling to tear his gaze away from Iora’s departing figure.
“She did have rather troubling eyes, much like a bastard puppy.”
Lake murmured with melancholy, “What’s with ‘bastard puppy’? Why add such a sinister word after the cute and charming ‘puppy’?”
“The point is, Lake…” Vigros laughed lightly, leaping away. “What I need isn’t a saint candidate, but a saint. No matter how cute the squirrel may be, I don’t need someone who will just get picked on.”
The burly, middle-aged man turned his head as the drapes parted. His gaze met with Vigros and the Emperor, and for a moment, there was a silent exchange. Without waiting for an invitation, Vigros sat on the chair, and the Emperor broke into a grin.
“So, the little troublemaker has grown up.”
“If Your Majesty expects my allegiance, you might be disappointed.”
“Do you think I have summoned you for that?”
“Oh! Please don’t think of pushing off your grown son’s dull romantic issues onto me, Your Highness.”
The conversation seemed friendly on the surface but was laced with thorns. It had an edge that could pierce at any moment. Vigros’s eyes turned as hard as polished gems embedded in the ocean depths.
Sensing this, the Emperor stroked his beard. “I see that there are two saint candidates this time. Did you see?”
“Yes, I did. You held them up to me like they were on display.”
“I need your insight. Has there ever been a time when there were two saint candidates?”
“…So, if it’s true, are you planning on snatching up the true saint?”
“Originally, saints belonged to the royal family.”
That scheming old man. Vigros shrugged, swallowing curses.
“Everyone says that the saint is a girl named Arcanda anyway, so why do you need my opinion?”
“Just in case. A saint is a very important thing.”
