Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 56
Iora felt like a third party, utterly dumbfounded as she watched everything unfold on a distant stage. Until Ovid’s cold, unforgiving eyes fell upon her.
“Young lady.”
Ovid’s face was brimming with anger. His forehead’s veins pulsed visibly. There was not a hint of suspicion. Of course not. Who would think that the saintly Arcanda, recently returned from a kidnapping, orchestrated a play and slapped herself senseless?
Ovid’s firm lips parted, and the reprimands poured out, just as expected.
“Is this truly the work of the young lady? Did you do this to Arcanda? Just after returning from a kidnapping? Was it really you? How could you be so cruel?”
The cold contempt in his voice snapped her out of her reverie.
“Iora, you’re not that kind of person. You couldn’t have done this. I had a momentary lapse in judgment.”
“…”
“Hah, what a crazy idea.”
She realized that this wasn’t a dream—that this wasn’t a situation where she could just stand there, laughing it all off. Her heart sank. Ovid, the one who had perhaps been the only person genuinely worried and had ordered to find her, had his trust in her shaken. He would undoubtedly start to despise her like everyone else. Never again…
‘Ovid would never believe me.’
That Arcanda wasn’t this virtuous person she pretended to be, that she disfigured Iora’s face by poisoning her—even if Iora revealed that the entire kidnapping plot was Arcanda’s doing, no one would believe her.
The prince, his face cold and stern, carried Arcanda in his arms and walked past Iora without stopping.
“Ha, hahaha.”
For a moment, she was on the verge of a serious delusion. Even if the soul inside Arcanda’s body belonged to another person, like herself, nothing would change. Arcanda was right. Ultimately, she was Arcanda, the heroine, and Ovid’s lover.
And no one else would believe and listen to Iora.
As had been the case in all these past few years, no matter how much she struggled and resisted, she was always rebuffed, no matter how much she tried and tried!
* * *
“I didn’t expect them to behave this way.”
The man gave a wry sneer, glaring at the Emperor as if he were about to reprimand him. “Your Majesty, if the dog has cleaned up its own crap, why bother with the aftermath?”
“Since we’ve started, wouldn’t it be better to see it through to the end?”
“I have nothing to gain from this. I have no desire to stain my hands with blood. Keep dreaming. This s**t cleans up after itself, Your Majesty.”
Duke Vigros von Elrah looked visibly displeased. The conversation with the Emperor was never pleasant, to begin with, but today seemed especially so.
The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. There has been a lot of unrest lately.
There was word going around that the Crown Prince and some insignificant girl had a dispute over the saint candidates. Of course, if Arcanda were the saint, there would be no issue, but what if she wasn’t?
“The time to open the cave is approaching. If nothing happens, both Arcanda and Iora will enter it simultaneously.”
* * *
She couldn’t beat Arcanda. Perhaps their mindsets were different from the beginning. Iora learned resignation and loss, while Arcanda received only love and acceptance.
Now, no one in the Saint’s mansion would leave Arcanda with Iora. Although she knew it was all just Arcanda’s manipulations and schemes, Iora eventually resigned herself to being silently complicit in her act.
‘If such a girl becomes the saint, the empire’s future is assured.’
But who knows? Iora might already be dead by then. Whether she was chosen the saint or not, Iora would die either way. If she was declared the Saint, she might die at the hands of Arcanda.
She had given up, and there were no more tears left in her eyes. The criticisms and curses around her didn’t affect her anymore—only the occasional hollow feeling and the sting of dry eyes. That was it.
“In two days, it will be your 18th birthday. You know what day that is.”
“Yes, Father.”
Though slow, she no longer stuttered as she spoke. Even the smile that flashed across her face was effortless yet empty. Now she could laugh when she wanted to laugh and get angry when she wanted to get angry. She still had no strength to truly fight back, but at least now she wasn’t cowering with every word. Whether this was genuinely a good thing remained uncertain.
“You’ve lived solely for this day, Iora.”
Become a saint or die. She quietly lowered her gaze to the tasteless steak on the table. Only two days left. Two days of life remaining. What could she do in these two days?
“Are you listening to me!”
“What do you expect from that wretch, Father?”
Her ears tingled. It didn’t matter. Could there be a more dreadful moment than this right now?
Iora lethargically nodded her head and said, “I’ll do my best, Father.”
She took a small piece of the steak and popped it into her mouth and chewed, oblivious to her father’s blank stare. The soft, tender flesh had a nice texture, but there was no taste of sweetness, saltiness, bitterness, or any flavor at all. It was as if something was broken.
* * *
“No, no, nooo!”
The girl woke up screaming like she was having a seizure on the bed. Hacking and gasping, her wild, fierce golden eyes scanned the surroundings, trying to confirm where she was.
“No, it can’t be….”
She raked her trembling fingers through her hair. The bloodshot eyes glared at the moon high in the sky, like a wild beast.
“This is… this is the world of ‘The Saint’s Flower.’”
The girl howled like a beast.
“I know everything. I’ve read it all. There was no such ending. It wasn’t there. It’s not there…”
Screaming and exhaling heavily, the girl slowly closed her eyes and stopped moving.
“No. Not if I’m careful.”
As if having decided on something, she stared at the ceiling. There was one way. It could be dangerous, but there was one way. A way to make sure, just in case.
The girl’s eyes glowed wickedly.
