Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 111 - I'll Become so Rich that I'll Buy Everything

But Iora, who couldn’t exactly claim to know this place, merely shifted her gaze in silence before speaking.

“What if someone sees us? It’s a little too ordinary-looking.”

“Ordinary? What part of this looks ordinary to you? Besides, not just anyone can come in here.”

That was a bit rich, considering she herself had run in here crying and hadn’t exactly been stopped. The memory of that moment surfaced in vivid detail. As she turned it over in her mind, he murmured, barely more than a passing whisper: It was no coincidence.

“What?”

“Anyway, tell me the rest of that story you were starting earlier. You said you wanted to make money?”

Iora found herself thinking back to when she first discovered her ability. She had been sitting in the clammy old library of the Saint’s mansion, thumbing through the memoir of some long-forgotten saintess.

It had said this:

《I was born with the name of a saintess, and with it, I came to fully understand my power.

The saintess’ power is fundamentally one of creating miracles. Yet this miracle manifests differently in each of us. The ways in which it appears — each one worthy of being called a miracle.

I wished for it, desperately. Though born a noble, I was poor. And because of that poverty, I lost my younger siblings.

If you’re sick and in pain, and also poor, then you can’t afford treatment. That’s all there is to it.

And so, my power manifested as something even past saints had never possessed — a powerful healing ability and the ability to create gold.

The former made for excellent public relations. The latter… the state deemed dangerous. And so, I never revealed that power to anyone. I write of it only here.

If you, the one reading this, are a saint of the future, think carefully about what it is you truly want. Do that, and you may come to understand the full expression of your power.

And remember, our power does not manifest in just one way. It can take many forms.》

There were two things Iora had wanted: wealth and the words to convince someone.

She had wanted money because she didn’t want to be tethered by anything. And she had wanted the power to persuade because she just wanted someone in this wretched world to actually listen when she spoke.

The moment she became aware of those desires, her strength had drained from her. And when she opened her eyes, a radiant jewel-flower had bloomed.

Now, just like back then, a jewel-flower shimmered into bloom before her eyes, its petals scattering fragrance as they opened in a soft burst of light.

The color was different. Last time, it had been yellow. This time, it was pink — a soft and playful shade.

‘I still don’t know how the colors are decided.’

Vigros didn’t say anything for a moment. Was that strange? She had assumed the jewel-flowers would sell like wildfire, given how rare they were. After all, she was the only one who could make them. They never wilted. They gave off a distinctive fragrance. And in the dark, their luminous shimmer shone like a beacon. On the outside, they were literal jewels — sparkling, polished, and expensive-looking. Perfect as ornaments, yet practical too.

Or so she’d thought.

Feeling a little disheartened, she looked at him. And just then, Vigros snapped his fingers.

Startled, she blinked. He grinned wide enough to flash teeth.

“It’s possible.”

Iora’s eyes lit up, hope rekindling.

“I knew it, right? It’s a scarce commodity. People would get obsessed trying to figure out where they come from, what they even are. The mystery would just drive up the price.”

“So you’re planning to take advantage of those aristocrats and their tendency to throw insane money at anything with perceived value, huh? In that case, the black market’s your best bet. The palace dogs won’t get their hands on them so easily, and it’s the perfect place for price inflation. Harder to trace too.”

“Isn’t that kind of place hard to get into, though…?”

“Not for me.”

He smiled with that quiet confidence of his.

“I own the black market.”

“…What? You’re lying!”

“Listen carefully, Iora. I might deceive people by omission, but I don’t lie.”

That hit her like a slap to the back of the head.

Not even The Saint’s Flower had mentioned this. The resources traded in the black market were beyond the Empire’s ability to track. With no upper limit on auction prices, it was also the go-to site for nobles to conduct their more discreet business.

And yet he owned that black market?

‘That’s basically saying he has more money than the imperial family.’

Iora clicked her tongue, thoroughly unnerved.

He really was the hidden villain. If he wanted to, he could probably overturn the entire Empire. What was the ending of The Saint’s Flower, again? Why had this man failed? The thought was so absurd she let out a breathless, incredulous laugh.

Vigros stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“Alright. If my little Saint wants it, then I’ll make sure you become filthy rich. But for that, we’ll need someone who knows this field inside and out… someone consumed by money, basically.”

Not exactly the most elegant description.

“Should I summon them? Or shall we pay them a visit ourselves?”

“If Duke Elrah is extending a personal invitation… this young lady would be honored.”

Iora’s eyes sparkled.

He always showed up like a ghost out of nowhere, yet she realized she knew almost nothing about him. Her heart pounded with anticipation, like she was about to visit a friend’s house for the very first time.

She quickly reached out her hand and shook his, and he smiled as he took it in his.

Moments later, Iora found herself landing with a soft plop onto something plush right beside him. And then, quite suddenly, she was staring at someone’s Adam’s apple.

“Waaaaaaagh!”

A man was in front of her, mouth open so wide she could practically see down his throat, shrieking at the top of his lungs.

And apparently, this was the specialist Vigros had mentioned — the one utterly consumed by greed.