Chapter 129
Ovid found the young woman before him, seemingly armored behind an impenetrable wall, strangely unfamiliar. At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed by Iora’s attitude.
Ever since his initial invitation, every letter and correspondence he had sent afterward had gone ignored.
In the end, Ovid had only one choice left—to come to the Saint’s mansion without making an appointment. And every time, he found himself thinking the same thing.
This is strange. That Iora… is strange.
Even by his own standards, it was an irrational thought. He knew nothing about what kind of person Iora truly was. And yet he couldn’t help feeling that the Iora who turned her back on him and treated him so coldly was somehow wrong.
‘Have I lost my mind?’
Arcanda’s sudden appearance had caught him off guard, but since he had often come to see her, he assumed she had simply misunderstood.
Even as he spoke with Arcanda while recalling his father’s orders, he remained anxious that Iora might leave without another word.
Then she had walked past.
At the sound of Arcanda’s voice, his heart had begun pounding before he even turned around.
Because he knew she would be there.
And there was something he needed to confirm. Whether that rumor was really true.
‘No, she couldn’t possibly do that.’
The moment he heard the rumor, the Crown Prince had dismissed it outright. But that certainty had quickly faded. The image of Iora came back to him: speaking with such a light, refreshed expression, as though she had no lingering attachment whatsoever.
“I came to see you—”
“You said you came to see me, didn’t you, Your Highness? We may be engaged, but perhaps you’ve forgotten that we are two people who have never even exchanged a single ordinary letter. And perhaps you’ve also forgotten how utterly disrespectful your actions are toward me. Unless Your Highness intends to use your rank to force the matter, this is a situation in which I have every right to feel uncomfortable.”
“…My lady, are you angry? I…”
Faced with her measured words and unwavering gaze, everything he had wanted to say simply disappeared.
I wanted to see you, but I had no way to do so. Just as you said, we are not close and that is my fault.
Ovid felt painfully aware of how pathetic and foolish he had been. He was ashamed.
Then the young woman spoke.
“And I truly do have a prior engagement.”
“A prior engagement…?”
“Yes.”
“Is this prior engagement… with a man?”
“What?”
Ovid froze for a moment. For some reason, he felt as though he knew exactly who that prior engagement was with. Displeasure and anger tightened his brow. He had the sudden urge to reach out and stop Iora from turning away.
Who are you going to see? That was what he wanted to ask.
“No, you aren’t that kind of person.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Your Highness.”
She was right. He didn’t even know what he was trying to say. Ovid’s face twisted miserably, as though he wanted to bite his own tongue.
This wasn’t what he had meant to say. Not at all. He had only wanted to have an ordinary conversation. To ask how her day had been. Whether anything good had happened to her or whether something had upset her.
“Do you really know what kind of person I am?”
Ovid couldn’t answer. A mocking smile had clearly risen to the young woman’s face.
“You don’t know, do you? What kind of person I am.”
“……”
“Funny, isn’t it?”
* * *
‘What is wrong with Ovid?’
Whatever the Crown Prince had gotten into his head, Iora had no idea, but she really needed to get back as soon as possible. She still hadn’t left her family behind, which meant she had to attend the gathering of relatives being held for that damned Janus’s birthday.
That morning, Janus had hesitantly asked whether she hadn’t forgotten it was his birthday.
Iora had sneered at him before replying:
“Why? Don’t tell me you were expecting me to celebrate your birthday. Were you hoping for a present? How about I count not kicking you in the shin as your birthday gift, you damned excuse for an older brother? Now get out of my sight.”
The moment she finished speaking, the way all the color drained from his face had been immensely satisfying.
Looking at the Crown Prince, who had gone completely silent, standing there like a statue, Iora thought to herself, Now I can finally leave.
Just as she turned around—
A smile slowly entered her field of vision.
Arcanda. She was smiling. But there was something strangely unsettling about it.
‘What…?’
A sharp, inexplicable sense of foreboding flashed through Iora’s mind. Arcanda had been trying far too hard to keep her there.
Crown Prince Ovid might not have had any such intention, but Arcanda…
‘She might be plotting something.’
The thought had barely crossed her mind before it happened. The Saint’s mansion was adorned with enormous stained-glass windows. Thanks to the blessing of a certain ability, they had remained perfectly preserved for years without ever shattering.
No one would ever have imagined that they could suddenly explode into countless fragments right then and there.
Iora stared blankly at the shards raining down. For a moment, it never even occurred to her to use her power to protect herself. What consumed her instead was the sickening sensation of her heart dropping.
And a scene she knew all too well.
The long, screeching squeal of tires.
Jiyeon—! Sol’s desperate scream, as though her throat were being torn apart.
And then… Pain beyond description.
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