Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 58
The day had finally dawned.
As Iora surrendered herself to the familiar touch of the maids as they bathed her, she collected her thoughts.
‘Will it all end today, or will I have to live this tiresome life again?’
If there were such a thing as reincarnation, she wished she could go back to the life of Kim Jiyeon. She wanted to meet Sol there. Or perhaps, this was all a dream from her past life, and she would wake up in a hospital bed after being in a coma.
Sol would cry, and she would try to cheer her up by saying, I had a funny dream. Do you want to hear about it?
‘Perfect.’
Dressed in the heavy robes that the saint candidates must wear for the ceremony, Iora saw her father, mother, and brother. But there was no warmth in their eyes—no concern, no sadness.
And Iora, too, displayed no emotion. Like a dry, parched land in a drought, her family was stoic. She didn’t speak a word until the moment the carriage door opened, heading towards the palace.
Until she met the Emperor.
“What?”
She asked, unable to hide her surprise, and saw the Emperor’s face contort with displeasure. He certainly looked remarkably similar to Ovid. There was no hiding their bloodline.
Iora rolled her tongue inside her mouth and asked again, “…What happened to Arcanda?”
“She fell down the stairs and is now on the brink of death.”
This was yet another mystery. Arcanda had been eagerly anticipating this day. She had been so determined to finally be recognized as the perfect saint and win everyone’s love. But why? Why, then, avoid this ceremony? Or had she really fallen unconscious?
She stared in disbelief, but it was only the Emperor himself who stood before the ritual cave. There was no sign of Ovid or any other attendants. There was only an eerie silence broken by the calls of distant birds.
Iora frowned. She wasn’t in a good mood.
“So… In other words, I have to go into the cave alone.”
“That is correct.”
“What happens to Arcanda if I come back alive?”
“Naturally, if you come out alive, it means that the other girl was the false saint.”
The Emperor spoke ruthlessly. Fakes were not needed in the empire.
The situation was comical. For a brief moment, Iora felt a surge of determination to somehow survive and return. So, she thought that seeing Arcanda again, waiting for her execution, might improve her mood. But even that fleeting emotion turned into extinguished embers.
“Understood, Your Majesty.”
Her legs trembled briefly as she walked towards the cave. Despite her heart being so quiet, her body seemed to feel fear. Iora took the torch handed by the knight and began to enter the cave.
* * *
Perched on a tree, Vigros flicked the disappearing apparition with his fingers. However, it drifted away, without hesitation. Where had the little squirrel gone, all scared and sobbing? He’d told her to stop crying and face her enemies, not to turn into unfeeling stone.
“Why did you decide to keep your tears on the inside instead, you silly squirrel?”
And soon, he couldn’t see anything. Now, what transpired within the cave was beyond anyone’s knowledge. The outcome depended on whether the person inside would come out alive or not. There had never been two saints at the same time. But if she was a saint, she couldn’t die. For this world loves its saint.
Vigros slowly stood up, stepping on the lush branches.
“You never made a wish.”
A stubborn squirrel. A stubborn one indeed.
She never used her wish.
A bitter smile crossed his face.
* * *
If she’s a saint, she’ll come out alive. If not, then she won’t come out at all.
With those words in mind, Iora walked into the cave. The damp and slippery path seemed longer than anticipated. As her legs started to ache, she noticed a faint light illuminating the darkness.
“Oh, is that it?”
Finally reaching her destination, Iora discovered the faint light emanated from a dagger, no longer than the length of her palm, hovering miraculously above a marble altar.
“Do I have to use this? Is this new? It just looks like a regular dagger.”
Carefully gripping it, she was surprised as the dagger, effortlessly rose when she attempted to pull it. It felt weightless, as light as paper.
“…Ah.”
The moment she grasped the handle, something stirred in Iora’s mind. It sounded like a voice, but felt like a memory. It was telling her what to do with the blade.
Iora smiled softly as she held the transparent dagger to her face. A sense of fear finally crept in. She ran her fingertip slowly across the blade, and even that brief stroke was sharp enough to cut and draw a thin line of blood.
“The saint confirmation ceremony.”
If the dagger was indeed as ridiculously sharp as it seemed, then even a lady’s feeble strength would be enough to cut through bone and pierce into her heart in an instant.
“To plunge it into the heart.”
In other words, she had to thrust the dagger into her chest.
Iora gritted her teeth and slowly lifted the dagger with both hands.
Without hesitation, she forcefully plunged it toward her own chest. A sharp cry of pain resonated through the cave as the sound of the dagger piercing her echoed loudly.
