Chapter 121
At the warmth of her touch, his breath caught.
“What’s wrong? Don’t cry…”
At those gentle, bittersweet words of comfort, his face twisted all at once. Vigros’s hand trembled as his fingers slowly curled, as though about to grasp the hand resting against his cheek.
“I…”
“…Mmm.”
Was it the aftereffect of overusing her power?
Though she had seemed to regain consciousness, Iora collapsed limply the moment she finished that one small gesture.
Vigros stared blankly at her before finally coming to his senses.
He waved a hand in front of Iora’s face to make sure she had truly fallen back asleep, then rubbed the cheek that still retained the damp warmth of her touch.
He couldn’t stop smiling. He would sooner die than tell Lake about what had happened today, but if he ever did, the man would probably be so horrified he’d fall flat onto his backside the instant he heard it.
“Ha.”
This woman had made him cry. And that wasn’t all. When he had tried to pry into her secrets, she had turned the tables and shown him his past instead.
She had thoroughly taught Vigros, a man who had always lived exactly as he pleased like some tyrannical despot, a lesson. Just like his mother used to whenever she caught him doing something naughty and scolded him after dragging him back.
Like a stern, merciless god, she had struck him down. It stung. It hurt.
…And yet, it was strangely exhilarating.
The corners of Vigros’s eyes curved softly.
He straightened her rumpled posture and pulled the sheet all the way up to her neck. As he gently smoothed her tousled hair into place, he breathed in its sweet, fragrant scent as though savoring it.
“Iora, you’re truly incredible.”
The tears gathered in his eyes spilled down his cheeks once more. Vigros lowered his head even further.
“After making me cry like this today…”
Puff… pfu… Even after launching such a terrifying attack, the woman slept peacefully, breathing softly like a child. With a finger, he gently rubbed her smooth forehead.
He liked this closeness. Her sweet breaths made tears well up again and again, as though they might melt him away.
“You’re wearing such an innocent face, as though you know nothing.”
Was this what it felt like to lower one’s guard? The strands of hair brushing against his fingertips softly tickled his skin. Desire crept upward through the heart that had once been so utterly merciless.
He focused on the present. He liked this girl. He wanted to stay by her side. He wanted to see her smile. He wanted to watch her take satisfying revenge on the damned people who had tormented her.
If she did…
He knew it would make him truly happy.
“But after enchanting me however you pleased… if you run away…”
Iora. My Saint.
Watching her so intently that he seemed intent on capturing even the faintest flutter of her eyelashes, he whispered,
“Then I’ll cling to you as relentlessly as a nightmare, my Saint. I’ll seduce you until you can never forget me, no matter where you are…”
As though he had never wavered in the first place, a thoroughly wicked smile spread across his handsome face.
* * *
“Lady Iora! Please wake up! It’s morning!”
Ugh. Iora frowned as her brows knitted together. Along with Shana’s bright, cheerful voice came the sharp sound of the curtains being flung open. At the same time, brilliant sunlight struck her squarely in the face. Out of habit, she pulled the blanket over her head and mumbled, Please… just five more minutes. Please, alarm clock… five more minutes…
Then, listening to Shana’s lively chatter, she slowly began to wake up. Her muddled mind gradually sorted itself out. Iora von Ribandt. That was her name now. She was no longer Kim Jiyeon.
“Ugh!”
“Mmm? Whatever’s the matter…? Lady Iora, did you stay up late last night?”
Iora shook her head. That wasn’t it. It was just…
She felt as though she’d had a strange dream. The hazy fragments drifted at the edge of her memory, almost close enough to grasp before slipping away again. Pressing firmly against her brow, Iora changed out of her nightgown.
How strange. Because the flashes she could remember were so bizarre that they were the sort of thing one wouldn’t expect to see even in a dream.
Come on… what kind of dream was that?
“Shana? Um… there’s something I wanted to ask you. Is that okay?”
“Yes! Of course, go ahead.”
“Have you ever heard of the Duke Elrah? I mean, if the Duke of Elra—”
“Hic!”
“……”
“Wh-Why… why, why…”
Shana reacted immediately. Her eyes went round as saucers, and she suddenly broke into hiccups.
“T-the… the Duke of Elrah…? Th-that… that ghost…”
“Mmm. Never mind. You don’t have to say any more.”
Watching her reaction, like she’d burst into tears the moment someone poked her, Iora closed her mouth.
She didn’t need to hear the rest. She could already guess. That was probably the normal reaction.
Vigros. Vigros von Elrah.
Within the Hyrn Empire, he was the very symbol of fear, enough to silence even a crying child.
And in the original novel, <The Saint’s Flower>, he was the terrifying male lead lurking behind the scenes. The embodiment of obsession who would never let the heroine, Arcanda, go. The greatest villain of them all, who had deceived everyone before attempting to overturn the Empire itself.
And yet… The Vigros she had actually come to know had been the only truly kind person in this cruel world.
How ironic.
‘And to make things even stranger, the current Vigros is my fake boyfriend…’
To Shana, who kept asking why, Iora simply smiled and shook her head. She bit her tongue, holding back the question of whether Shana could even imagine that fearsome Vigros shedding tears so pitifully.
Discussion
0 CommentsReactions
No comments yet.