Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 50
Arcanda looked at her maid, then at Iora, and finally at the torn dress in utter disbelief.
“Iora, did you… did you do this?”
Taking a slow, deep breath, she tried to recall how she felt when she had shared that conversation with Vigros—how comfortable she was in his presence, how her words came out like in a smooth, eloquent stream rather than the stifled, slow cadence she had now. She could still do it. She must. She mentally encouraged herself.
‘Arcanda will understand if I explain. I’m sure of it.’
When she turned her head, she was met with eyes brimming with betrayal. Her every planned word seemed to choke in her throat at the sight of Arcanda’s anguished expression. Iora’s face contorted slowly.
“Was it you, Iora? Why? Did you hate me that much all along?”
“Arcanda, it’s a misunderstanding. I…”
But a cutting voice interrupted and interjected.
“That’s not true! You have to believe me!”
It was that maid. She glared at Iora with accusatory eyes and shouted, “I saw it clearly! Ha! Don’t deceive us! Young miss is seeking revenge for what happened yesterday!”
“Jane, did you see Iora do this to my dress?”
“…O–of course.”
She hadn’t seen it firsthand. Iora hadn’t torn that dress in the first place! The maid was lying. Iora had to speak up, but the unfolding situation had rendered her speechless. Arcanda, who had been standing quietly, burst into tears. Sniffles echoed as the stream of tears cascaded down her face.
“Oh, Arcanda, you must be heartbroken. You poor thing. Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry…”
Then, the attendants accompanying Arcanda joined in, astounded.
“How could the young lady do such a thing?”
“Wasn’t this a hunting competition organized by Marquis Ribandt? Doing something like this would tarnish her family’s reputation. How short-sighted can she be? Does she have no sense of responsibility towards her family?”
Then, as if she couldn’t bear it any longer, Arcanda abruptly stood up and shouted frantically, “Stop it, everyone!”
The attendants who had been making noise instantly fell silent. Iora gazed blankly at Arcanda, her friend who now directed glared at her resentfully. Arcanda’s gaze was incredibly cold, desolate, and unfamiliar.
“Iora, I thought we were friends. But it seems I was mistaken and deluded. You weren’t my friend, after all. You must have hated me enough to do this. It’s over now.”
With teary eyes, Arcanda shot her a quick look of disdain before rushing out of the tent. The maid followed, shouting after her, and so did Iora.
No, she had to explain. She had to. She couldn’t leave Arcanda misunderstanding like that, with such a wounded expression. Pushing through the screaming attendants, Iora dashed after her. Her heart was pounding.
‘It wasn’t me, Arcanda. Why would I ruin your dress like that? What benefit would I gain from such a foolish act…!’
As she rounded a corner, murmurs of conversation barely registered before a sudden, excruciating pain stabbed at the back of her head. She collapsed without a scream, drained of strength like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Faintly, she heard someone talking nearby.
“What should we do about this woman? Did she see our faces?”
“This wasn’t part of the plan. What should we say?”
“We need to report and take her. If this gets out, we’re all as good as dead.”
That was the last thing she heard before everything faded into darkness.
* * *
The female lead’s life is a series of trials and tribulations. Although love is a brilliant outcome, there are many horrible things that happened to get there.
The threat to her life felt like a playful jest. Some incidents were spine-chilling if they happened in reality. For instance, the situation where someone jealous of the protagonists kidnaps a loved one as a threat. Imagine how terrifying that scenario would be in real life.
“Ugh… Hnngh…”
In that moment, Iora painfully realized that her earlier thoughts were not mistaken.
The cloth over her mouth felt damp and uncomfortable, and the position in which her hands and feet were bound made it difficult for blood to circulate in her limbs. Though she seemed to be the only one in the dirty basement where she was carelessly thrown, it felt both empty and strangely divided into cramped spaces like some sort of hospital ward.
‘Arcanda should’ve—it should have been Arcanda here.’
At one point in the novel, Arcanda gets kidnapped, and while Iora wasn’t certain if it happened at the same time as the hunt, it’s clear that she’s been followed by a group of people who are trying to kidnap the heroine.
‘People will definitely come to save Arcanda…Wait a minute.’
Suddenly, a terrifying thought crossed her mind. In the novel, Arcanda safely returned to her normal life after being rescued by Ovid. But what about her, an expendable extra character who might die at any moment?
Will anyone even notice she was here?
Her hands and feet began to go cold with anxiety. Would anyone even realize she was missing, let alone come to rescue her? Even if they knew, would they go out of their way to search for her?
As these thoughts raced through her mind, everything felt futile, and tears welled up in her eyes. It felt like her chest was burning. Even her family… they might not search for her. Her fingers were losing their strength. She might never be found at all.
Mother, father, brother. They all seemed to scoff and dismiss her.
‘But they’re my family…I’m their daughter, their sister.’
She reassured herself, but she wasn’t too confident with her own thoughts. Slowly her body, which had been struggling to break free, was losing strength. The confined space was hot and humid. The fabric stifling her made it increasingly difficult to breathe, clouding her consciousness. If she remained still, she might even die.
‘Maybe that would be easier.’
Breathing became harder, almost as if someone was pressing down on her. Through her slowly blinking vision, she saw her scattered hair on the floor. Her hair was the only thing Iora liked about herself.
