Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 91
“…!”
What’s wrong with him?
Iora frowned. As soon as their eyes met, Janus flinched and lowered his head, pretending to busy himself with his fork and knife.
He couldn’t admit his own faults, nor did he have the guts to stop their father or mother’s actions. He couldn’t even manage to see her as his sister or love her as one. And now, after all that, he was squirming as if weighed down by guilt? That only made Iora feel more disgusted.
Lifting her chin, Iora stared straight at her father. Then she smiled sweetly. After all, a brazen smile was the best shield and weapon against an enraged opponent.
“A tea party… You must’ve forgotten, but on the day I turned twelve, you and Mother declared that you’d never let me attend another ladies’ tea party, since I’d already brought enough shame to the family to last a lifetime.”
“What did you say?”
“As a mere candidate for sainthood, how could I possibly know what went on at an event I didn’t even attend or see? If you plan to scold me, I suggest telling me what I supposedly did wrong first. Does your anger even have anything to do with me?”
Her tone and voice were elegant and gentle, but the words were laced with icy sarcasm.
“You, you—!”
“Oh my. Were you planning to strike me?”
Hmph! There was a sharp scoff, followed by the scraping sound of a chair being pulled back.
Iora widened her eyes, locking them squarely on her father. Her mother sighed, turned her head away, and clicked her tongue. Janus, meanwhile, glared at her, his eyes hardened with disdain.
She almost laughed. The way they looked at her as if she were some hopeless defect was absurd. Then her father’s voice came, trembling with rage, each word spat like venom.
“You dare… I don’t know what’s gotten into you to behave like this, but you are my daughter. You belong to the Marquisate of Ribandt, and that means you are subject to the will of this family!”
“…”
Iora lifted her goblet of water and pretended to wet her mouth to hide her sneer.
Interrupting someone before they finished speaking was considered incredibly rude, so naturally the rest of the family’s faces stiffened. But Iora, shamelessly blinking her eyes with innocent grace, quietly picked up her knife and sliced into the meat before placing it in her mouth. She chewed.
‘It still tastes like nothing.’
Whatever fleeting hunger she’d felt a moment ago had completely vanished. Strange. This was probably high-grade veal steak, yet there wasn’t even a hint of flavor. In her previous life, she’d never been able to resist meat. Now? Nothing.
At that moment, a memory from the past rose up unbidden.
Moments spent stiff and frozen, chewing through food while holding back tears in front of these very people. The times when she’d given up entirely, unable to recall what joy in eating even felt like. The version of herself from back then.
‘Ah. Even though I’m no longer that Iora, it seems this body still remembers those moments.’
Steamed buns she’d shared with Sol, the meat they’d eaten together. It hadn’t been luxurious like this, not by a long shot, yet it had tasted good. She had been happy.
Recalling those memories, she forced herself to chew. She had to eat to stay alive.
Watching her chew quickly and efficiently, her father seemed to take offense at her silence. With a loud slam, he struck the table and shouted. Iora didn’t even flinch. And she wondered, who’s really being rude here?
“Iora von Ribandt! Are you now ignoring even your father? Where did you learn such disrespect…!”
“Father. Please, enough. She’s always been… hmm, well, she’s always been like that, hasn’t she?”
“My son…”
“Pfft—!”
Iora let out a loud, sudden laugh.
“…You. Just now…”
“Oh my, how clumsy of me. I laughed during such a serious conversation. Did I startle you?”
Everyone stared at her in disbelief, but Iora couldn’t help it. It was so absurd that her shoulders shook with laughter.
It had always been like this. With a graceful smile, she dabbed her lips with a napkin and then spoke.
“Father.”
Her father’s glare practically dared her to continue. In response, Iora rested a hand against her cheek and sighed dramatically.
“My brother is always ‘my son.’ And me? What was I to you? I’ve always been…”
“You! What nonsense are you spouting…”
“Oh come now, I was still talking, brother. Interrupting like that is terribly rude. Have you already forgotten how you humiliated me on my fifteenth birthday for doing the same? Thanks to you, even the servants laughed and pointed at me like I was some pitiful, clueless noble girl…”
Janus’s face went pale. So he did remember. Iora turned her head sharply, casting her gaze at both her father and mother in turn.
“I was always a bug to you, wasn’t I? A worm, something to be squashed. Do either of you even remember the last time you called my name without shouting it like it was an insult?”
Her mother’s lips twisted sharply. Her raised eyebrows cut through the air, like she could no longer bear this insolence.
Iora saw her mother bite down lightly on her red-painted lips before releasing them. Then came that voice, sharp as a knife, to scold her.
“So this is what I get. I thought you were improving. Regaining the dignity and authority befitting a noblewoman. But it was all a delusion. How dare you say such vulgar things in front of your father? You’ve truly gone mad. Ill-mannered, base, and disgraceful. How much longer do you think we can put up with you?!”
Her mother’s iron fan struck the table with a sharp crack.
“Do you even know what happened yesterday when the Crown Prince invited Arcanda? How dare you speak like a petulant child at a time like this? Have you forgotten your place?”
“It’s not me who’s forgotten my place or my reality, Mother. It’s always been like this. Has the Crown Prince ever treated me like his fiancée? That is my reality.”
Her mother trembled with rage.
“Exactly! You aren’t even treated like one. And even now, at a time like this, you think you’re still a child deserving your parents’ affection? You are the bearer of this family’s honor, a candidate living in the Saint’s mansion! And you bring up those ancient, forgotten memories—”
“To me, they were only yesterday. And today too, apparently.”
Just yesterday. Just a few days ago.
The pain she had once shoved deep into her heart still pulsed vividly.
“Yes. People don’t change that easily.”
“Will you ever stop with that disrespectful mouth of yours!”
“I feel like I might get indigestion. I should excuse myself, Mother. Father.”
Iora rose from her seat. She hadn’t eaten more than a few bites, but she couldn’t swallow another piece of steak. Not because she was sad or hurt like before.
It was simply too loud. She no longer saw any reason to sit and listen to such noise.
