Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 96
The man who had been sprawled out in his seat snapped upright like a spring.
The other man, who had just finished wiping up the sticky liquid and was making nervous grunting noises, yelped in annoyance as something small rolled across the floor and hit him in the back. He wiped it off, only to have it land on his back, this time in a hard-to-reach spot.
“My Lord!”
“Shut up.”
The sharp retort came from Vigros, whose voice had taken on a razor’s edge. He tapped his lips rapidly with his fingers—tap, tap, tap.
They were standing in a snowfield. All around, something red had spread across the snow like scattered roses.
Lake cursed under his breath, then began waving and gesturing orders to the knights behind him.
What did I do in my past life to deserve this? I should’ve been out on my feet and making a good living. What sin did I commit?!
His constant grumbling passed in one ear and out the other as Vigros focused on a vision that only he could see.
A dry laugh slipped out of his mouth. He couldn’t believe it.
For a moment, he seriously considered flying over and wrecking the entire scene.
Or maybe he should just use a sparrow’s beak to peck that smooth forehead.
“You left her alone all this time, and now you can’t bear to let her go… Is that it?”
The sight before him was more revolting than he’d expected. The Crown Prince, grinning like an old friend — when had he ever smiled like that? The pitiful sight was laughable. But what truly irritated him was that his Saint looked surprised. That she looked at that shameless Crown Prince like that…
Why do you look at him that way, Iora?
“To avoid being a complete bastard? Pretty words, I’ll give you that.”
His blue eyes darkened, trembling with cruelty.
“You were trash from the beginning, you hypocritical bastard.”
* * *
Ovid studied the girl standing before him. Her gaze now was different from the one he’d seen in the carriage that day. It was calm, settled, and staring at him as if to say, Go on, say something, and something about it sparked a faint fear in him.
And the Crown Prince surprised himself. Since when had he cared what Iora von Ribandt thought? Since when had he feared what she might say?
‘Ridiculous.’
It was commendable that he had boldly declared he would continue the relationship instead of breaking off the engagement, but that didn’t mean he could suddenly visit the House of Ribandt. After years of cold treatment, he couldn’t very well invite her to the imperial palace out of nowhere either. That would only stoke anger.
There was also the risk that rumors might spread among the nobles — talk that the Crown Prince was now allying with the Marquis Ribandt. That would be problematic, given that the Empire’s royal authority was still far from reclaiming its former glory.
So, after careful consideration, he decided to visit her himself. As the Crown Prince, he could exercise his full rights to freely enter the Saint’s mansion.
“The Saint’s mansion is quite the maze.”
“It has a long history.”
The place turned out to be surprisingly large. There were many hidden corners. While the Saint candidates had access to them, he himself didn’t need to go into most of those areas. By the time he finally found her, noon had long passed.
“You said you came to avoid becoming a complete bastard?”
“…Ahem.”
The crude insult that burst from her graceful lips was… something.
Ovid caught sight of her escort standing outside the door, stifling a cough and sighing in disapproval.
The Crown Prince furrowed his brows. It was an attitude unbecoming of a bodyguard. Just as he was about to suggest that perhaps it would be better to change the guard, Iora spoke up.
“So, does this mean you’re going to break off the engagement?”
“Why… would the conversation turn that way? Quite the opposite.”
“Your Highness, I truly can’t understand this.”
In that instant, the violet eyes seemed to look at him with the same gaze one might give something strange and incomprehensible. It made Ovid feel a peculiar discomfort. No one had ever looked at him like that before. He felt like a worthless piece of trash discarded in the streets.
“Your Highness, you do want me to step down from my position as your betrothed, don’t you? Don’t lie and say otherwise.”
“…If the young lady were to demand that we break off our betrothal, your family would not agree to it.”
Iora instantly wiped the blank expression off her face and gave him a cold and disdainful sneer.
“Oh my, why bring up my family like that in such a cowardly way? And don’t worry about that. I’ve been looking into a few things, so you don’t have to fret. There are exceptions in the law, after all.”
Ovid’s face stiffened. She seemed to be serious. It truly seemed like she was preparing to break off the engagement. He couldn’t understand why it made his heart drop like that, but he felt a growing sense of anxiety. This shouldn’t be happening like this.
“I’m sorry, my lady.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have wronged you, my lady.”
“…”
“I treated you coldly. I wasn’t a proper fiancé.”
It was a painfully slow apology. Ovid had never once uttered an apology in his life. Acknowledging that his actions had been wrong was, surprisingly, an incredibly embarrassing and terrifying process.
Iora remained silent. He had expected her to lash out with sharp words, demand he stop lying, or maybe pour out her anger and hatred for the way he had treated her all this time. But none of that happened.
When he mustered the courage to look into her violet eyes, he saw nothing reflected in them.
