Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 117 - A Glimpse into the Past

It was an extraordinarily peaceful feeling.

The black-haired man sat beside the sleeping girl, his long legs elegantly crossed. Something soft and warm seemed to have settled over his shoulders, leaving behind a gentle, ticklish warmth.

“What exactly is it about me that makes you trust me enough to sleep this deeply?”

“……”

The sleeping girl gave no answer.

A distinctly mischievous look crossed the man’s face. The slight twist of his lips was as beautiful as it was decadently alluring, yet the only girl who would have grumbled at the sight of that expression remained fast asleep.

Seated beside her like a knight standing vigil over his lady’s repose, the man let out a quiet sigh. The very existence before him, carrying a faint, fragrant scent, seemed so radiant it made his fingertips sting. Her soft, steady breathing sounded just like a baby’s, calm and warm.

Vigros found himself curling his lips into a smile for no reason at all, only to awkwardly brush his fingers across them a moment later.

“Lake keeps complaining. Says I’ve been acting strangely these days. Who do you think is responsible for that?”

If only the girl had been awake, he almost wanted to ask her outright, just to tease her. If he leaned in close enough to pose the question, those violet eyes would surely waver in flustered surprise. And they would be unbearably beautiful.

Vigros suddenly found himself wanting to ask her. To take that white hand in his own, press a kiss to the back of it, and ask in complete earnest.

When I’m with you, I can’t stop smiling. I have more fun than I know what to do with. So what am I supposed to do, my Saint?

His hand moved of its own accord, gently gathering the translucent, shimmering strands of hair scattered across the sheets into his fingers. It was cool and silky. The girl was burdened with all manner of rumors, but there was always one compliment that accompanied them—that her hair sparkled like a precious jewel.

“Why don’t you despise me? Why aren’t you afraid of me? Just… where in the world did you come from?”

The Saint’s power was the power of miracles.

In truth, a Saint herself—born into the world carrying the power of a god—was nothing short of a miracle. The gods were hardly gentle or benevolent beings, so what else could one call it but a miracle that they had bestowed upon humanity a being capable of wielding their power?

Perhaps that was why Iora herself was also a miracle to Vigros in more ways than one.

“Mmm…”

As he lightly tickled the strands falling across her forehead, she frowned faintly in her sleep and turned onto her side. Her loosened hair spilled softly across the bed, catching the moonlight and shimmering with iridescent hues. Displeased by the cool sensation of those silken strands slipping through his grasp, he unconsciously tightened his fingers for a brief moment.

Looking down at his own pale hand, the man let out a cool, quiet smile.

“Iora.”

A Saint belongs to the Imperial Family.

The Emperor’s face rose unbidden in his mind, coldly declaring those words.

Suppressing the murderous intent surging within him, Vigros kept his eyes on the girl before him.

At some point, he’d begun wondering about her.

No… She had been someone who intrigued him from the very beginning. She stirred his curiosity. Iora von Ribandt.

She was strange.

A Saint who had openly declared that she had no intention of becoming a Saint. Those eyes, so vivid they seemed capable of shining even in complete darkness, gleamed with a clarity unlike that of any other Saint.

They radiated a beauty so dazzling, like a soul laid bare, that he simply couldn’t look away.

Ah… this is driving me insane. Vigros bit down hard on his lip, his brows knitting together with restless frustration. He felt strangely impatient, as though something unseen were relentlessly pursuing him.

It irritated him. That bastard of a Crown Prince had been getting closer and closer to Iora. Even the way he kept throwing her those transparent little advances scraped harshly against his nerves.

The only thing that brought him any satisfaction was that Iora never wavered.

He felt as petty as a child desperately afraid of having something precious stolen away.

“Iora.”

A vicious impulse would surge through him every now and then—to lock this little girl, this spirited girl with her bright, unclouded smile, away within his castle of thorns, where no pain or suffering could ever reach her.

Wouldn’t she be happy then? If she never had to see anything cruel or painful? But at the same time, he knew he could never do such a thing to Iora.

He wanted to see it. He wanted to see her seize the future she longed for. To splash filth across the faces of that wretched Crown Prince and the Emperor, then stand proudly beneath a future where she could shine, happy and unrestrained.

Perhaps it was the sweet fragrance that forever lingered around the Saint, making him think of her again and again.

Or perhaps it was because what she hid within that small head of hers was anything but ordinary.

“Iora, I want to know you…”

Vigros’s life had been painfully monotonous.

He had been nothing more than a chained dog, beaten into submission. And so, no matter what he looked upon, all it stirred within him was hatred. Living had long since ceased to be interesting.

But after meeting Iora, something had changed.

He found himself looking forward to each new day. What kind of side of her will she show me today? What voice will she speak with? What will those eyes look like when they meet mine?

Even while standing before the same tiresome specter of death…

Even as he swung a sword drenched in blood…

The thought would suddenly cross his mind. What is Iora doing right now?

And before he knew it, unable to resist, he would send one of the birds that shared his vision to her. From wherever it could perch unnoticed, the bird would shadow her throughout the day.

Pitifully enough, there were far too many pests buzzing around Iora, tormenting her at every turn.

Not even her own family stood on her side. It was the sort of environment that should have crushed a person into meek submission, yet the girl remained proud.

And that only made his heart pound even harder. Those brilliant eyes that refused to yield to anyone…

They looked just like flames.