Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 48
The forest of Annes was dense. Despite being situated behind the Imperial Palace in the secure capital, the mysterious forest occasionally had unpredictable monsters emerging. Hence the Marquis Ribandt spent a fortune trying to prevent unforeseen accidents from occurring.
‘If a member of the royal family gets hurt, our family will be greatly shaken…’
Iora felt tired even before it started. Soon, all the tents were set up, and women unfolded seats to prepare for the feast. The hornpipes resounded grandly, and everyone participating in the contest nervously took the reins of their mounts, doing final checks with tense expressions.
The knights would then approach the ladies they had marked and exchange greetings, handing over fallen leaves. When received by the recipient, it declared an honorable promise and it ends with great honor for both the woman and man.
Ovid would undoubtedly go to Arcanda.
Iora scanned the men and paused for a moment. Her lips pouted as she fought back the urge to rub her eyes, forgetting her dignity.
‘Did I… Did I just see something wrong?’
But when she looked again, what she saw didn’t change. A man was waving to her with a somewhat awkward expression. His face was truly handsome—languid yet decadent. Moreover, the surrounding women’s voices sounded astonished, making everyone wonder if it was some illusion or mirage.
‘Oh my. He’s handsome… No, who in the world is that clueless knight?’
‘How could he pick that ambitious wench!’
While they were enraged, Iora was on the verge of screaming.
‘It’s Vigros! What is he doing here?’
The man who had gently whispered to her and tucked her into bed last night was there! Boldly waving to her! The memory of laughing and dancing with him on the terrace suddenly reddened her ears.
No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t recall if the antagonist of the original story had participated in this hunting competition. Whatever Vigros’s abilities were, it was unlikely that they could match Ovid’s swordsmanship. The winner would undoubtedly be Prince Ovid with the red boar’s horn.
‘But maybe…something has changed the story?’
Just then, Prince Ovid began to move. If the maid hadn’t made a fuss about Prince Ovid arriving at Arcanda’s tent, Iora would have mistaken his dead-eyed stare for him coming towards her. For a brief moment, it seemed like they exchanged glances before she turned away to lock eyes with Vigros.
‘He’s not coming to me. Look at me. What was I thinking?’
Realizing the absurdity of her misconception, bordering on embarrassment, she bit her lip hard. Of course, the person he would offer the fallen leaves to was naturally Arcanda. And as it happened at the grand gala yesterday, no one would come to her to make the oath. Iora quietly decided to just close her eyes.
“?”
But something was odd. The eerie silence that settled around her was chilling. What could be happening? Iora, who had been trying to open her eyes cautiously to assess the situation, gasped as soon as she did. The cause of her surprise whispered with a mischievous grin.
“Why such a horrified look on your face? You should be delighted, absolutely beaming from ear to ear.”
“W-Why are you…? What are you doing?”
“Well, I’m trying to make a pledge with you. Naturally, you’d gladly accept it, Squirrel.”
With a smirk on his face, Vigros slightly bent at the knees stood before her and held out a uniquely brightly-colored leaf. He waved it in front of her, not wanting her to stare at it like an idiot—much like how he wiggled his white feet under the moonlit night.
“Come on. If you don’t accept, I’ll smash my forehead against the wall out of shame. Do you want to see blood spewing from my fine forehead?”
“Are you… threatening me right now? What kind of vow is this…?”
“As long as the outcome is good. So, take it and tell me. What trophy do you desire? Do you prefer fluffy fox fur? Or should I fetch the horn of the forest’s strongest creature? White would be nice, or maybe orange?”
“Excuse me,” she said. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Well, I’ll bring the strongest one as a trophy. Being the best always feels good, doesn’t it? And, by the way, Squirrel, I’ll grant you the honor of being the best too. Aren’t you thankful?”
She didn’t need such an honor. Iora was about to shout at him in frustration but stiffened like a statue instead. She had been so surprised that she hadn’t noticed that everyone was looking their way. The ladies were asking if that handsome man was the dread Duke Elrah, and the young men were wondering why he would go talk to that wicked woman.
There stood Arcanda, staring blank-faced, and…
Arcanda and Ovid were standing quietly at the center of their tent.
