Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 95
“Ah.”
It happened in that instant. A sharp, fluttering chirp rang out, and Iora felt something light land on her shoulder. Then, in the blink of an eye, it all unfolded. Whoosh! A cold, solid edge cut through the air in front of her, the tip of a sharp sword poised to strike whatever had landed there.
A chilly silence fell between Iora and Guillen.
“Sir Guillen. Stand down.”
“…It’s a bird.”
“Were you about to mercilessly stab this tiny sparrow to death?”
“My mistake. On the battlefield, such things often turn out to be surprise attacks.”
“Ha. It’s wonderful that you’re such a skilled knight, but I don’t believe this is the time to demonstrate it. Are you not going to lower your sword?”
The fact that he still hadn’t put the sword down was starting to seriously annoy her, and Iora’s voice turned sharp without her meaning to.
What? Do you want to stab me with that sword or something?
The arrogance in the knight’s gaze was all too blatant.
From behind, her small handmaid, having just stepped down from the carriage, let out a deliberate “Ahem!” and glared fiercely up at the much taller knight.
Even though he had just looked at Iora with eyes full of hostility, he seemed unable to get angry at the tiny maid. Guillen hesitated and finally lowered his sword. It was absurd. She had asked for a bodyguard, so why was that man the one who ended up escorting her?
‘It’s like trying to get rid of a lump and growing another instead.’
Iora gently stroked the sparrow perched on her shoulder and whistled softly. Maybe it was the faint trace of the Saint’s power within her. Though her touch should’ve felt unfamiliar, the sparrow clung to her shoulder and showed no sign of flying away.
“Let’s go, Shana.”
* * *
Iora’s decision to dutifully come to the damned Saint’s mansion every day wasn’t to get back at the maids who had tormented her, nor to humiliate the teacher who had scorned and trampled on her pride.
“Ugh, my shoulder…”
Stretching her stiff body, Iora groaned.
She was in the library — the very reason she’d resolved to keep coming to the Saint’s mansion.
Surrounded by the musty scent of paper books, Iora flipped through the pages and yawned.
“I need to know more about the Saint. But there’s no one to tell me anything…”
The Saint was shrouded in mystery. The only place Iora could extract any information was the library of the Saint’s mansion. The original novel The Saint’s Flower had focused so heavily on Arcanda’s perspective that much truth had gone unspoken.
For instance, what exactly is a Saint? What is the origin of a Saint?
If you asked, ‘What do you think a Saint is?’, there wasn’t a single noble who could answer properly.
The imperial palace seemed to be hiding something, but there was no way to uncover it directly.
‘So then…’
Iora quietly skimmed through the birth and death records of the past Saints. There was one thing that consistently appeared in each of their lifespans: they all became empresses married to the emperor. While there were a few rare cases where the emperor remarried and had more children after the Saint died, it was always the Saint’s child who became the heir.
“It feels like they’re obsessively making sure the Saint’s bloodline never leaves the imperial family.”
Was she overthinking it?
If it had just been a one-off thing in The Saint’s Flower, she might have dismissed it as a narrative device to pair the heroine and hero together. But this had been the pattern all along. Every Saint married the crown prince — the future emperor.
“It’s strange. And unsettling.”
But since she was the real Saint, she had to make use of that advantage. To prevent herself from being exploited, she needed to thoroughly understand it.
When she reached the last page of the book she was reading, she snapped it shut. A puff of dust rose. There were too many books and not enough time. Iora slumped forward onto the desk.
She felt weak, maybe because she hadn’t eaten properly. Being alone left her vulnerable to all kinds of intrusive thoughts. Chief among them was the instructor she had seen again during today’s Saint lessons — the words he had said to her.
They had been… unexpected. Iora thought back to what had just happened.
‘I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I’ve been reflecting on it.’
His voice had been calm. For the first time, Iora felt like she was seeing the true side of the instructor who was said to be gentle by nature.
Until now, all she’d seen was anger and shouting. The sheer contrast in his demeanor gave her chills. And it also made her feel… slightly wronged. Just a few words from her had been enough to bring about that kind of change?
‘What do you mean by that?’ she had asked.
‘I was too harsh. I trampled on your… pride. People can’t all be the same, and not everyone can achieve in the same way. You were right. I was discriminating against you.’
Because she had turned her head so far, all she could see was the teacher’s cheek flushed a deep red.
‘If you wish, you may request a new teacher. But if you’d like to continue with me… I’ll be more mindful.’
Iora stared, lips parted in a daze, silent. As if unable to endure the silence, the teacher gave an awkward cough, then shut the book with a sharp clap and tucked it under his arm.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
He whispered that and quickly made his exit.
Only then did Iora realize that throughout today’s lesson, not once had she been scolded. Not once had she been compared to Arcanda.
She straightened up. The teacher’s stark change felt like someone had leaned in close to whisper in her ear: “You can change the future.”
It felt good. And bitter. And complicated.
Iora turned her head and for a moment, even forgot to breathe. Why is he here?
Their eyes met. The chill that usually lingered in his gaze seemed to soften.
Then he said:
“Iora.”
As if he’d ever properly called her name before. The tone was oddly familiar, even warm.
“I’m here to avoid becoming a complete bastard.”
It was the Crown Prince, Ovid.
Darklovr
Can’t wait for the next chapter! He’s already a bastard though