Chapter 110
A smear of dark brown chocolate ice cream had clung to his fingertip.
“Ah, you got some on you…”
And then, right in front of her, he popped that finger into his mouth and sucked it clean. Her heart skipped a beat, then surged with a jolt.
Vigros was openly provoking her. The smile he gave, sharp and languid, was cruel in how beautiful it was, as if he wanted to see her freeze up, flustered and unsure what to do.
Iora had to laugh.
‘Come to think of it… when was the last time I dated someone…’
She’d had boyfriends before. Of course, back when she was Kim Jiyeon. But she’d never been deeply involved with any of them. It just naturally ended up that way.
They always said the same thing: You’re too indifferent. It’s like you don’t love me. Maybe they were right.
Life had been too busy. Each day was a struggle, and love had started to feel like a luxury. Sure, there were fleeting moments of affection, but before long, reality always took precedence.
Poverty makes people run, and it drains the color from your emotions, too. Men who promise to stay through hardship? They only exist in dramas.
“I’m handsome enough to make you lose your mind, right? Don’t I look sweeter than this chocolate?”
The complete jerk unleashed his seductive skills. Her heart stirred little by little.
A charming man straight out of a novel was flashing a flirtatious smile right in front of her — sweeter than the chocolate, even. It was almost sticky.
When Iora laughed, his smile faltered for a moment.
“What’s that? Why are you laughing?”
He said, sounding like the fun had fizzled out, but then mimicked her laughter. Like a mischievous cat copying your every move.
‘Some villain he is.’
Iora opened her mouth to speak.
“It’s because you’re cute.”
“…….”
For a moment, she thought she saw the shock flash across his dumbfounded face. Cute? Me? This s-xy body? Are you seeing things?
Iora giggled and lightly poked his lips with the spoon she was holding. He looked at her, confused, and she repeated the same motion he had made earlier. The soft lips brushing gently against her fingertip were surprisingly plump and smooth. He seemed to take care of his lips as well as his bare feet, which always looked flawlessly clean and pale.
Tracing his lips painted even redder by the tart flavor, she brought the residue to her mouth. His gaze obsessively followed her fingertip, and then she slowly sucked it clean with a pop.
“You shouldn’t get it all over yourself like a child.”
“…You’re the one who got it on.”
“I’ll return it in kind.”
His dumbfounded expression twisted into that of a mischievous cat.
This time, their spoons clashed fiercely back and forth. The sticky atmosphere from before vanished as if it were a lie, replaced by a battle-like energy, their laughter blending together.
And the eyes of those watching caught on quickly.
“Isn’t that a saint candidate?”
“That wicked woman.”
“Who’s the guy with her…?”
“Isn’t this a scoop?”
“Find out who that man is!”
It was exactly what the former saint and the mastermind behind the scenes had hoped for. The eyes watching them began spreading vivid news of their secret romance with impressive zeal.
* * *
When she suddenly said, “I hate being poor,” they were already walking beside the river.
Iora continued speaking.
“Everyone has their own values, of course. Money isn’t happiness, of course not. But without money, you don’t even get the chance to pursue those things. Eating, drinking, sleeping — everything basic costs money.”
“The Ribandt family must be one of the wealthiest in the Empire, right?”
“But that marquisate isn’t mine. My father won’t hand it down to me, and even if he did, I’d refuse it. So I’m going to earn a solid income myself so my future will be secure.”
Iora’s eyes blazed with determination.
He probably couldn’t understand her — how deeply money weighed on her mind as she spoke.
But Iora herself had never been one to spend money recklessly. Eating, drinking, and even what she wore — all of it had to happen according to her mother’s and father’s plans. What mattered was a life where she could feel free and comfortable enjoying herself.
“Let’s talk about the contract. I’m going to quit being a saint and request an annulment on my betrothal.”
Vigros glanced over and whispered, “I like the sound of that.” He really seemed to hate the crown prince quite a lot.
“And I’m planning to leave home.”
“Come to my house.”
“…I’m trying to earn money to do that.”
“Hey, why are you ignoring what I say?”
“So, I have a proposal. I need a quiet, secluded place.”
The scenery changed suddenly the moment she finished speaking. Iora recognized where they were.
That old garden.
‘So this means we’re in the palace.’
Wasn’t it there, on that apple tree, that he had swung his bare feet teasing her? Iora looked around carefully as she took his outstretched hand and walked with him. Sitting down in the wet grass with her fluttering dress — if her mother saw this, she’d turn pale and scream.
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