Secret Love Affair between a Former Saint and a Dark Hero - Chapter 118 - A Glimpse into the Past

Watching her calmly answer those who dared to entangle themselves with her without knowing their place, dealing with them one by one with her own steady stride, was both admirable and beautiful. Of course, he never forgot to carefully keep track of every damn fool who tormented Iora, nor to exact a small measure of revenge on each of them.

‘My lord, what in the world are you doing? You can’t keep using your ability all day like this!’

‘There are too many vermin-like pests swarming around Iora.’

‘Then please help kill the vermin right in front of us first!’

‘You talk too much. Shut up and deal with it yourself. If you can’t even manage that much, then you deserve to die.’

‘M-My lord!’

Whether it was to protect Iora or to keep watch over her, even he could no longer tell. It was an act just embarrassing enough to make him feel a little self-conscious, yet his hesitation never lasted long. Whenever Iora looked at him and smiled without the slightest trace of fear or revulsion, he felt as though he were losing his mind. Truly… his heart throbbed with a dull ache. Strange. It was all so terribly strange. She was a small, peculiar existence who filled him with that warm, ticklish feeling.

“If it had only been curiosity, I’d have cut off your head and uncovered the truth even if I had to kill you…”

The girl was strong, yet fragile. If he quietly twisted her neck, she would die with alarming ease.

That was why it irritated him. This existence, strong yet fragile—if he didn’t keep his attention on her every waking moment, there was no telling where she might be hurt, what pain she might suffer, or whether she might close her eyes forever. Even if she was a Saint.

And if that happened…

‘Then I wouldn’t be able to keep pretending to be a gentleman or a good man in front of Iora anymore. I’d go on a rampage like a mad dog.’

Vigros paused. The thought was so absurd it almost made him laugh.

Pretending to be a good man.

Pretending to be a gentleman.

Because he had realized something.

He didn’t want her to see the cruel, ugly side of him. He hoped she would never look at him in fear and step away.

That things could stay just as they were.

“Could you cut away my leash? Could you set me free from this noose that’s slowly strangling me?”

Carefully, Vigros lifted the sleeping girl’s hand and gently lowered his lips to the back of it.

It was soft.

The gesture was reverent, like a knight offering a kiss to the hand of a noble, elegant lady. The faint touch of her skin left him dizzy.

He didn’t want to let go of this hand. He wanted to touch her more.

Vigros’s eyes sharpened with burning intensity.

The moment he closed them, a tightly sealed door swung wide open, and something came rushing through his veins. Beyond the darkness that swallowed his vision, something slowly began to emerge.

It was a scene that seemed to echo in his ears and unfold before his eyes at the very same time.

There was a girl. Iora von Ribandt. The very girl who had completely stolen every last bit of Vigros’s curiosity. Ah… no. Her appearance was the same, but she was far too different from the girl he knew.

‘Father… Mother… Brother…’

The sight of the girl quietly sobbing was so heartrending it felt as though his own heart were being torn apart. Without even realizing it, his grip around the hand he was holding tightened, and Vigros ground his teeth together. Her voice was terribly hoarse, as though she had cried until it gave out. Her eyes were swollen raw, and her disheveled hair was coarse and dull, stripped of the glossy beauty befitting a noble lady.

Who on earth…

The girl drew her knees to her chest. Quiet tears slipped down her face as she curled in on herself, as though trying to embrace her own body. It was a posture born of familiarity. Filling her large eyes was surrender. Resignation.

His heart ached. Those were the eyes of one who had been abandoned. Eyes Vigros knew all too well.

‘…It hurts.’

That soundless sob tightened painfully around his heart. Vigros reached out his hand. He wanted to pat those small shoulders right away. To brush away the tangled strands clinging to her face and pull her into an embrace, telling her not to cry.

Don’t cry, Iora. Was this…the dream she was seeing?

‘It hurts. It hurts so much… I want… to go back…’

It was heartbreaking. The thought itself almost made him laugh, yet he found himself wishing he could hurt in Iora’s place. And he wanted to kill every last thing that had made Iora cry. He wanted to butcher them all, leaving not even a single ant alive.

It was just as murderous intent was about to surge.

‘…….’

Iora slowly raised her head. Then she lifted her eyes and looked at Vigros, the formless stranger within her dream. At that very moment, he was startled. Something began to change. Light returned to the girl’s empty eyes. Then, slowly, the Iora who had worn a familiar face yet felt utterly unfamiliar disappeared, and in her place were the eyes of the spirited, steadfast girl he knew. It was an unbearably beautiful sight, yet it was also the moment a chill ran down his spine. Their gazes met directly. The girl had recognized him.

‘Could that be possible?’

It happened in that instant. The scenery changed. For the first time, he—the one who had always possessed the power to seize everything into the palm of his hand and toy with it as he pleased—was flung out instead.

In the blink of an eye, he fell from the one who coveted into the one being overwhelmed. Feeling himself plunging down into the dream, he opened his eyes.

Slowly, as he opened them, sensations so vivid that they could never belong to a dream washed over him. The cold air. The ache in his ribs from his ragged breathing. Even the tingling numbness in his trembling hands.

Perhaps it was the Saint’s power within Iora that had repelled his own. A laugh escaped him.

My goodness, my Saint is powerful, isn’t she?