Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 7
“Sniff, sob. Aaahhhh!”
How many people were in this vast mansion? There were numerous servants, and of course, family members. It was a far cry from the loneliness of the boarding house.
“Aaaahhh! H-huuh! Aaahhh!”
Yet, not a single person inquired about Iora’s day. No one kindly asked why she was crying.
They simply laughed and sneered. A fake saint. Delusional Iora! That’s how they talked while pointing fingers.
‘I’ve never desired anything. I’ve never once wished to become a saint…’
Today, once again, Iora was dying inside.
* * *
<The Saint’s Flower>.
She vaguely remembered the plot of the book she had skimmed at the café.
Who the male lead was, who the female lead was, and what romantic developments occurred between them, as well as the major events that encompassed the novel.
But there were a lot of things she didn’t really know, and one of them was about the saint.
And the future events that Iora knew about didn’t provide much help.
‘What? What did you say?’
‘You, Miss, are a candidate for sainthood.’
‘Me?!’
Iora was stunned when she first heard the story.
Iora naturally assumed that the heroine of the novel was a saint. She hadn’t really read the book to see who the villain was or how she sabotaged the main couple, so she just knew there was another girl named Iora.
‘Perhaps I was just a greedy fake saint who aimed for a position I don’t even deserve.’
I didn’t realize the blind spot of a story told from the point of view of the protagonist. Since the novel revolves solely around the protagonist, it can be a cold and lonely stage for other characters.
If someone receives love, then someone else loses it.
If the female lead, Arcanda, was the light, then Iora was the shadow.
“It hurts… When will this end? Will this story ever come to an end?”
Her voice echoed in the empty room.
“Ugh.”
She looked at her cheek reflected in the mirror and gently touched the swollen skin. If she were truly a saint, wouldn’t such an injury heal quickly?
She had been taught that the signs of a saint did not appear until after her eighteenth birthday, but no matter how she looked at it, she was not a saint.
“Rather, it would have been better if I had never been a candidate for sainthood in the first place…”
That was the problem.
“If that were the case, it wouldn’t be like this.”
In the world of <The Saint’s Flower>, there were two saints. More accurately, there were two candidates for sainthood.
They were born on the same day, at the same time, and they both had a shared destiny to become the saint. One of them had to be the saint, but they were both noble-born, and the possibility was equally strong.
It had been a long-standing truth that the future emperor, the Crown Prince, would be the companion of the saint, dating back to the empire’s reconstruction. Choosing who would be the saint was a matter of great importance, and it caused anxiety among the nobility because no one could predict who.
However, as the children grew, the people of the empire had little doubt who the real saint was.
Arcanda was different from the start. While Iora could barely accomplish one thing, Arcanda would achieve ten times more and then laugh brightly. She was exceptional, radiant, lovable, and intelligent to the point where others couldn’t keep up.
Beloved Arcanda, the protagonist of <The Saint’s Flower>. If not her, then who else could be the saint?
“Sniff…”
She swallowed her tears.
‘Why couldn’t you be better than this? Do you have any idea how far Arcanda has advanced already?’
‘Make an effort. Don’t stammer like a fool, and make a name for yourself. Don’t lose your prestige as a candidate for sainthood!’
‘Don’t go around saying you’re my sister. If you have any sense at all.’
‘You fall short in every way. I don’t even want to think of you as my own flesh and blood.’
‘Hahaha. Does she really believe she’ll be the saint?’
Everyone said the same thing. That it would be the pure and holy girl, not the dull and sullen Iora, who would become the saint. Iora passed her hand through her hair while looking at her own reflection in the mirror.
The Crown Prince of that era and the male lead in <The Saint’s Flower> would probably think the same way.
If Iora’s life was as meaningless as this, why did she enter the world of the novel in the first place? All because she made a joke before she died?
“I want to go back.”
In this grand mansion, there was no one to request a simple but warm meal, no one to offer a sharp retort to her father who seemed ready to slap her cheek, and no one with the courage to stand up for the girl who had been cast aside by her family.
“The world inside the novel is a living hell.”
If she had hoped her mother would be different from her father, she was mistaken. Her mother was no better. She couldn’t even muster a cold glance for a passing beggar. For Iora, who had nurtured fantasies about finally having parents of her own, family was her greatest pain.
What would one do if they were nobility, wearing expensive dresses and jewelry?
‘Considering I have nothing of my own.’
Her place in the world is in the shadow of the heroine, the villain who complements the hero, the unfortunate character who will eventually fade away and be erased from the story by those who love the heroine.
She knelt down, huddled like a cold baby bird. Only her sobs filled the room.
* * *
“What?”
Iora was so startled that she dropped the fork she was holding which clattered noisily. She was taken aback by the sharpness of her father’s tone.
He cleared his throat, and with an impatient look, he said, “It seems you can’t even understand what I’m saying. I’ll say it again, Iora. Today, you’ve been invited to the palace.”
