Tiendavis - For Perfect Salvation (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 11
On a dim evening, little Ivy crouched in the gap of a collapsed wall.
The utterly exhausted child had been dozing off, hugging her knees tightly, when she jolted awake at the sound of approaching footsteps.
She then shuddered at the shadow looming before her.
“It’s okay—it’s me.”
The large silhouette, backlit by the setting sun, spoke in a gentle voice.
Recognizing the familiar tone, Ivy murmured with a pale face,
“Mister….”
Her voice, only now realizing it was the fortune-teller, was fainter than usual.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
The fortune-teller asked worriedly, and Ivy forced a breath in, then replied cheerfully as if nothing had happened.
“It’s nothing.”
“But your knee is bleeding.”
“Oh!”
Ivy, seemingly just noticing her injury, gasped and clutched her knee, from which blood was gushing.
The fortune-teller then took her hand and pulled out a handkerchief.
At the sight of the white handkerchief he offered, Ivy pouted.
“You sure have a lot of handkerchiefs, mister.”
She deliberately acted gruffly, feeling guilty that he kept throwing them away because of her.
As if understanding her feelings, the fortune-teller smiled faintly. Then, as he wiped her knee, he asked again,
“What happened outside?”
“…I almost got caught.”
“Where were they taking you?”
“I guess I’d only know if I’d actually been taken.”
Ivy answered calmly at first, then scowled and grumbled,
“It’s really absurd. Who do they think they are, trying to sell me off? I hope they all get struck by lightning and die.”
Little Ivy’s daily life was full of turmoil.
Every day, she ran away, stole, got beaten, hid, and anxiously endured the day, always fearing she’d be dragged off somewhere.
Amid all this, her stubborn insistence on speaking up wasn’t arrogance or bravado—it was Ivy’s small but strong will to survive at all costs.
Having watched her like this for a long time, the fortune-teller finally spoke the words he’d long pondered over to Ivy, who was battered yet again today.
“Ivy, would you like to live with me?”
Startled by this unexpected offer, Ivy—who had been grumbling—looked up in surprise.
She blinked her big, dark eyes at the fortune-teller a few times, then asked incredulously,
“Mister, are you a pervert?”
“No….”
“Everyone says that.”
Ivy openly scanned him up and down with her eyes.
Flustered, the fortune-teller quickly explained,
“A certain lady has rented out the second floor of her house. It’s clean, has several rooms, and she even provides meals—so I thought we could live there together. Not just the two of us alone, of course. And you’d have your own room.”
It had been half a joke, but seeing the fortune-teller earnestly elaborate in surprise, Ivy let out a soft chuckle.
Seeing her expression soften, the fortune-teller asked again,
“Won’t you stay there with me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t trust you.”
Her answer remained firm.
“There’s no such thing as a free lunch. People only do good for themselves—they don’t help others without reason.”
“Not everyone’s like that.”
“Maybe not everyone, but most are. That’s why I hate it when people help me for no reason. I don’t want to bother wondering if it’s bait or a trap.”
Ivy said with a hint of sarcasm.
At that moment, Ivy’s attitude seemed merely insolent and rebellious, but her tender heart was secretly racing.
In truth, the fortune-teller’s offer had made her heart sink.
She feared he might be like those people who’d tried to take her away.
Of course, she didn’t distrust him that much.
If she truly had no trust at all, she would’ve simply said “I see” and escaped forever the moment he let his guard down.
But Ivy liked the fortune-teller and wanted to keep meeting and talking with him like this.
So instead, she spoke rudely to draw a line:
I don’t want to lose your kindness, and I especially don’t want to be betrayed by you—so please don’t come any closer.
Fortunately, the fortune-teller seemed to understand Ivy’s silent plea. He smiled gently, as always, with his pretty lips.
“Alright, if you don’t want to, I can’t force you.”
Despite Ivy’s refusal, the fortune-teller remained kind, and seeing that, Ivy finally felt at ease.
Looking at her, the fortune-teller spoke with unmistakable regret,
“But Ivy, there really are acts of help without expecting anything in return.”
“You really don’t understand how the world works, mister.”
But Ivy stubbornly snorted, then declared firmly,
“Everything only happens to those who deserve it. Receiving help is no different. Even begging for bread only works if you know how to earn pity. But as for me….”
Ivy, boasting a bit, suddenly fell silent.
Saying “I don’t deserve anything at all” would’ve made her feel too wretched.
So after rolling her eyes in thought for a moment, she quickly changed her tone with feigned confidence,
“For me, of course, I’ll earn an even greater qualification someday. So I’ll reconsider living with you then—like, later, when I go to Tienda!”
.
.
.
Eight years had passed since that promise.
True to her childhood vow, Ivy now had more than enough qualification to receive help and love—yet she still writhed in profound loneliness.
“Butler… Stop polishing that teacup and listen to me for once. Everyone went boating on the lake this morning—to celebrate the successful purification rite. And in the afternoon, Marquis Montra held a tea gathering—again, to celebrate the successful purification rite. And tomorrow, Viscount Verde is opening his floating garden at his villa—you know, also thanks to the successful purification rite… Hey, butler. Are you even listening to me right now?”
At Ivy’s endless lament, Deis, wiping a teacup with a dry cloth, replied absentmindedly,
“I’m listening. I heard you an hour ago, and two hours ago too—and I’m still listening now.”
“That’s right! I’ve been talking only to you for the past hour, and the two hours before that…!”
Ivy sighed in a voice full of sorrow. Then she flopped face-down onto the armrest of the sofa, and Deis, unable to bear her dramatics any longer, clicked his tongue in mild reproach.
“If you’re really that bored, why not read a book? Or practice your instrument?”
“I don’t want to….”
“Then what exactly do you expect me to do….”
Deis groaned wearily, but Ivy didn’t even pretend to care about his troubles.
There were two reasons Ivy was clinging to and pestering Deis right now.
One was that, due to the lingering curse, he was the only person she could talk to. The other was her drastically changed circumstances right after the purification rite.
Ever since Ivy Ariate’s appearance, a new custom had emerged in Tienda’s high society.
Before the purified water fully flowed into Vis, everyone rushed to enjoy every kind of amusement using that clear water.
From simply floating boats to hosting poetry readings or concerts against the refreshing lakeside backdrop, to drawing massive amounts of water to create enormous swimming pools filled with flower petals and herbs—maximizing enjoyment of the purification rite’s aftermath had become Tienda’s latest trend.
And every time, the one never left off the guest list was Ivy Ariate, the darling who awakened Manyanja—the beloved future saintess herself.
Going everywhere, receiving attention and praise, outwardly acting shy while inwardly swelling with pride—that had been Ivy’s greatest joy.
But now, trapped in the mansion due to the curse and unable to move freely, Ivy found her current situation unbearably unfair.
“I miss those days….”
Their cheers, their admiration, and their fervent applause.
As Ivy, ever true to her desires, gazed wistfully at past glories, Deis set down the freshly polished teacup and said,
“If you really feel that way, just attend a safe gathering briefly. You can come back after exchanging some meaningless pleasantries.”
“I haven’t exactly not thought of that. But butler, sometimes meaningless talk is even more dangerous.”
At Deis’s half-hearted suggestion, Ivy smiled with cloudy eyes.
She’d actually considered slipping out to the most favorable gathering she could find.
Not just out of boredom—but because she needed to end her house arrest soon so the issue with Baron Laurel could become a thing of the past.
She’d planned to gradually reappear in society and show she was still thriving—but when it came time to actually go, too many potential problems loomed.
“Just imagine—if someone like that brat Arco asks, ‘How do you like this hat?’ I might just say, ‘It doesn’t suit you at all, yet you wear it so proudly!’ What then?”
“So you can’t even manage daily life without pretense… You really should’ve tried being a bit nicer.”
The butler casually scratched the sore spot, prompting Ivy to snort loudly. Then, as if teaching a fool, she slowly lectured him,
“Butler. It’s true I put on airs just to be called ‘nice,’ but here’s what I think: once that behavior becomes habit and routine, it’s no longer pretense—it becomes my new self.”
“So what do you plan to do about Baron Laurel?”
“I want to beat him up.”
Having failed at being ‘nice,’ Ivy lifted Deis’s teacup high with a smiling face. Deis immediately grabbed her wrist and sincerely apologized.
After barely calming Ivy down, Deis cradled his precious teacup and said,
“I know it’s frustrating, but please endure it a little longer. A report on the serpent hunt should arrive soon.”
“Yes, I hope it brings good news….”
Ivy replied weakly, then bit her lip with a slightly sullen expression.
The butler mentioning Baron Laurel had brought that man’s words rushing back to her.
—“It would be better for everyone if you gave up on your own, rather than me forcing you to.”
—“Our agreement was mistaken. Since we’ll each pursue what we want, please inform me once the saintess selection concludes—so I’ll know how to take care of you.”
Yesterday, right after the purification rite ended, the baron had said this to Ivy.
It was practically a declaration of war—and at the same time, an unbearably arrogant notice that he would absolutely block her saintess appointment, so she should just figure out how to secure support on her own.
Nothing had happened yet, but Ivy couldn’t ignore that noble’s threat.
So after much deliberation, she asked Deis for his opinion.
“About Baron Laurel—can he really stop my saintess appointment?”
Selecting a new saintess was the exclusive right of the heads of the great noble houses and the current saintess.
Currently, despite Duke Laurel’s opposition, Ivy was the leading candidate for next saintess, backed by Duke Bayen, Marquis Montra, and the saintess herself, Roble Tuha.
In other words, even Duke Laurel himself couldn’t sway the will of the other great nobles.
So what exactly gave a mere baron—who wasn’t even the head of his house—the confidence to boast like that? Ivy found it both distasteful and suspicious.
But the butler gave a completely unexpected reply.
“Considering Baron Laurel’s influence, it’s not entirely impossible. After all, the Laurel family’s power itself originates from the baron.”
Male lead first thought she played hard to get, only to realize she
really disliked him
Short intro:
What she can’t stand the most is the streets full of effeminate men, especially that so-called top beauty whom she avoids at all costs.
Shen Yaoxing looks at Jiang Mingyue, who keeps approaching her with coy shyness.
Shen Yaoxing: Bro, don’t be like this, I’m really about to throw up!
She fears nothing in heaven or earth, except for him getting close to her.
*
At first he thought she was just using the trick of feigning indifference to attract his attention. Later, he learned that she truly despised him.
This dealt a heavy blow to Jiang Mingyue, and he vowed to make her, like everyone else, fall at his feet in worship!
***
Synopsis:
Before transmigrating, Shen Yaoxing only wanted to find a reliable man to spend her life with. Who knew that after transmigrating, she would become a reliable woman herself…
A forced misandrist, highly skilled, and reliable female lead
vs.
An initially aloof and arrogant, later morbid, obsessed male lead
_____
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is this chapter from another story?…… it doesn’t make sense at all…