Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 63
Eileen was a veteran maid who had worked for Marquis Ribandt for ten years. She cautiously licked her lips as she gazed at the tightly closed door. She didn’t want to enter. There was an air of ghastliness in the manor, thanks to the master’s daughter, who had turned into a corpse overnight.
“Why did they have to put me in charge of taking care of her!”
It felt uncomfortable for no reason. Eileen bit her tongue and adjusted her sleeves. In the ten years she had worked in this mansion, she had experienced all sorts of things, but this was a new development.
There were malicious whispers about the mistress receiving punishment for harboring ambitions of becoming a saint and not knowing her place. Yet, there was also an air of concern that she might die in her room within the next few days. If she died like this, House Ribandt would lose its saint candidate forever. And for the servants working in the powerful noble house, that would pose a significant problem.
Eileen sighed, placing her hand on the doorknob. It was eerily cold. It was also eerily quiet, as if she were truly standing in front of the room of a dying woman. There were no other visitors.
‘Your fiancé, the Crown Prince, has never visited you, has he?’
There was a time when Eileen wanted to be born not as a pitiful commoner but as a pampered and privileged noble girl. However, ever since she learned about Iora von Ribandt, she quickly let go of that fantasy.
‘If I had to live as Lady Iora, I’d just hang myself.’
Eileen shuddered. The life of a noble girl who might die at any moment was not as sweet as it seemed.
Creak. The sound of the door opening echoed, and Eileen turned her gaze grimly to the scene in the room.
It was rather unremarkable. A forsaken girl, left in such a state that not even her family, who would shed a single tear for her, bothered to come…
Eileen’s thoughts were interrupted. Because she came face to face with a pair of vivid purple eyes!
“Aaaaah!”
* * *
‘What is she so shocked about?’
She was expecting her to be startled, but the reaction was more severe than anticipated. Back when she was out of her mind, she might not have known, but it seemed like the girl’s name was probably Eileen.
Iora slowly raised her upper body from the bed, looking at the back of the maid who had fled in shock. A creaking laugh escaped her lips.
“Not a bad start.”
Slowly, she lifted her hand, and the pale, smooth skin appeared before her. The neatly trimmed pink nails were exceptionally manicured and glistening. As she gently placed her hand over her heart, the thumping sound of a beating heart reached her ears. And then.
“Ugh.”
The throbbing pain was also clear. It was like she was still being stabbed. Iora frowned, peering down at her chest in disapproval. Then she clenched and unclenched her hands and rose to her feet.
Her body wobbled for a moment. Well, it was only expected, given she had been lying down for a few days without even drinking any water. Iora, steadying her swirling vision, made her way to the full-length mirror in the room.
‘Iora von Ribandt.’
It still felt strange, and probably always would – both the name and how she looked.
“The protagonist, Iora…”
Her lips curved, and the girl in the mirror smiled. Her lustrous silver hair cascaded down to her waist in beautiful waves like moonlight.
She closed her eyes slowly, and as they opened, her vivid violet eyes met their reflection. For a moment, they trembled slightly. Iora raised her hand, gently brushing away the damp tears clinging to the corners of her eyes, but they came back again.
Everything felt surreal. Totally different from when she first woke up here. Back then, it was heavy, heartbreaking, and downright scary. Now, it was the opposite. Her heart was calm and cool, and her thoughts were surprisingly level-headed.
“This is the last tear I’ll shed for you, Iora von Ribandt.”
That girl who was pitiful and naive.
A sad and meek girl.
A poor soul who was never understood by anyone—who struggled alone only to then disappear.
“I will be Iora, but as Kim Jiyeon.”
The atmosphere, like tears on a flower, slowly evaporated. A resilient smile, akin to firmly closed fruit, rested on her delicate lips. The eyes that once trembled with sadness were now filled with a distinct and unyielding determination.
“Never again.”
Her knuckles turned white as she clutched at the fabric of her robe.
“I will not die.”
She would keep her promise to Sol, and she would use her powers as a saint to do so. Even now, just moving her fingers, she could keenly feel her divine power surging naturally. As she regressed to the past, she returned clutching every memory, every truth. This was the power of a saint.
There was no need to wait until her 18th birthday. The saint of this world was already Iora, herself.
“Thank you, Sol.”
Never again would she fade away into the role of the sad girl Iora. She would clash, she would fight, she would hold on for dear life, and she would get it all. It didn’t matter if she was called a villain or criticized for not knowing her place.
I will live. I will live no matter what.
“If this world wants to make me a villain,” said Iora, sweeping her hair aside with a crooked smile on her lips, “I’ll be the real villain this world deserves.”
