Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 86
Strangely, once it was said, it felt freeing. Like exhaling a truth she’d been burying for far too long.
It’s me. I’m the one. Not Arcanda. Me.
She glanced at Vigros, whose expression hadn’t changed at all. No flicker of awe or horror. Just that steady, unreadable gaze. So she gave a nonchalant shrug, like she hadn’t just upended the world.
“But I’ve decided I’m quitting. I’m not really interested in being the Saint.”
For the first time, his eyes widened just a little. The flicker of disbelief was almost innocent. It made Iora laugh.
To think a man whose life was probably built on plotting and secrecy could still look that genuinely startled.
“Huh? That’s not really something you can just quit, is it?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m still going to. Life as a Saint just seems unbearably dull. The Crown Prince doesn’t appeal to me, and I have no desire to spend the rest of my life as his consort or as Empress. Not as Iora, but as a title.”
He didn’t ask for details. Didn’t press or prod. Just stroked his chin thoughtfully, murmuring to himself like he was chewing on a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.
“Let me get this straight. You’re saying you want to fling s**t at that pompous old geezer, the insufferable hypocrite, and all those lunatic imperial freaks who worship the Saint like she’s the second coming?”
“……”
Iora’s jaw dropped.
How could anyone phrase it like that?
The nickname ‘Mouth of Terror’ really ought to be stuck to him, not her.
“That’s basically what signing a contract with me means,” she said.
“You’re looking for a s**t-flinging partner, then?”
“Exactly. So take your time. I’ll give you a minute.”
“Why are you being so honest with me?” he asked.
Iora smiled sweetly.
“Because you’re exactly my type.”
She thought he’d laugh. Say something like Not bad or throw back another clever line.
But instead, silence fell.
Iora’s eyes flicked to him. What was that? Why was he looking at her like that?
His blue eyes seemed to glint unnervingly.
Man, what intense eyes… she thought, awkwardly brushing her cheek with her fingers.
When he made the same joke, she laughed. So why wasn’t he laughing now?
As she bit her lip, he suddenly smiled. It was deeper, darker than before, and there was something eerie about it, as though just looking at it made a chill run down her spine. He twisted the corners of his mouth noticeably and whispered in a lowered voice.
“Alright. If you have such a great plan, how could I not participate? and since you’re offering me the power of a saint, this is my chance to kill two birds with one stone. Iora, I’m very greedy.”
His eyes, burning with interest, glinted.
“In exchange…”
He suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. It happened so quickly that the distance between them shrank in an instant. The rich rose scent from earlier hit her sharply, making her dizzy. What had been a chilling tension along her spine just moments ago now felt hot and intense, like a burning sensation sweeping through her. Iora’s eyes widened.
“I’ll become your sweet lover.”
The heat of his breath brushed against her ear. It was too close.
His voice was so soft that she didn’t immediately understand what he had said. Then, Iora jolted and yanked her hand away. They had agreed to make a contract based on the saint’s power, but why was he talking about becoming a sweet lover?
“Wait, hold on…”
Iora blinked in surprise, still trying to process what was happening. She could feel her heart racing, an unfamiliar feeling twisting in her chest.
“Why? Your heart racing?”
Before she could react, he slowly licked his lips, the movement almost teasing, before lowering his voice even further. It was the kind of voice that slid like silk, deadly and enticing all at once.
“There’s nothing better than a lover who gives freely. To gift, help, seduce, and stick together all day without it being strange.”
“That’s… not necessary…”
Iora stammered, trying to maintain control of the conversation.
He leaned in closer, his words like a whisper of poison.
“But why not? Let’s go all out, make it spicy. What do you think about getting revenge?”
“Revenge?”
Her voice cracked in disbelief. The concept was far beyond her expectations.
The man in front of her was too close, his presence overwhelming as he traced his fingers along her jaw. It was maddening how, despite the unease, her body betrayed her, her throat tightening as his words wrapped around her like chains.
“I’ve never liked that prince. He’s been making your life miserable, hasn’t he? And now, he’s been messing around with other women even though he’s engaged to you. Don’t you think it would feel good to slap him across the face? To get some revenge for yourself?”
Iora’s eyes widened in shock. What a headwind.
“The Crown Prince Ovid wouldn’t care who I date.”
“Really?”
Or maybe, he might.
As she thought this, a strange curiosity began to grow within her. It wasn’t just a matter of mischief. In a way, it had always been Ovid, not Arcanda, who had caused her more pain. More hurt. More sadness. And even now…
‘He said he wouldn’t break off the engagement so casually. Without any hesitation, like it was a no-brainer. As if my opinion didn’t matter at all.’
Yes. It made her angry. That shamelessness. That arrogance, as if he could act however he pleased. A cool smile began to bloom on Iora’s lips — one that ironically bore a striking resemblance to the man before her.
Iora slowly placed her hand on his chest, where it was hot and solid. She was afraid that she might look clumsy, showing an awkward side of herself, so she gently pushed him back. The man, who didn’t seem like he would move, willingly created some space. Iora took a deep breath and then spoke.
“I’d prefer a secret affair at first, because revealing it all at once would ruin the fun.”
