Tiendavis - For Perfect Salvation (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 4
“Drunk at such an early hour? Should I check how many bottles of champagne the servants carried?”
The count’s muttering was monotonous.
So Ivy thought it would be better if he just got angry outright.
Better than calmly murmuring with his mouth while glaring at her with eyes that seemed ready to devour her.
“It would be nice if we could confirm that, but will the servants really remember everyone they handed glasses to…?”
“They will. It was still early evening.”
Ivy tried hard to argue back, but as expected, the count’s response wasn’t easy to handle. So Ivy secretly clenched the hands resting on her knees.
‘Did he really come here just to harp on this?’
It made sense. He’d lost so much face in front of everyone—no wonder he’d ground his teeth all night and rushed over as soon as dawn broke.
Convinced of the count’s malice, Ivy swallowed hard. Just as she was about to lower herself further to endure the coming humiliation—
“But if the person involved says so, I suppose I must believe it.”
The count suddenly spoke in a calm voice.
“I wasn’t questioning you out of suspicion. I’m simply awkward in social settings.”
He sounded as if yesterday’s incident didn’t matter at all.
Startled, Ivy lifted her head—and was utterly dumbfounded by the sight of the count leisurely raising his teacup.
Awkward in social settings? No, quite the opposite. The count was clearly someone who knew exactly how to toy with people.
“…Suspicion? It was entirely reasonable. I can only apologize to you, my lord. Let me offer my apologies again for yesterday.”
Though she clearly felt the count was playing with her, Ivy bowed once more. Her pride ached, but she had no choice. Right now, what mattered most to Ivy was putting the previous day’s incident behind her.
“If it wasn’t intentional, that’s enough. I’ll consider it an accident and move on to the main point.”
“The main point…? Do you mean you have other business with me?”
“Yes.”
The count readily accepted Ivy’s apology. Then he started again, and Ivy’s mind grew busy once more.
The main point? What main point?
What business could Sion Laurel possibly have that would bring him all the way to Ivy Ariate’s home?
Nothing came to mind. If she forced an answer…
‘Could it really be love at first sight?’
The first hypothesis Deis had mocked suddenly surged to the forefront.
Even Ivy had only half-joked about it, yet now she looked at the count with half-belief, half-doubt over this new turn of events.
It seemed overly optimistic, but it wasn’t entirely impossible.
After all, anyone would agree Ivy was adorable—especially yesterday, when she’d dressed so beautifully.
And then there was the count’s reaction. Though he’d pressed her a little, he’d ultimately let yesterday’s incident slide with remarkable generosity, especially considering how rude Ivy had been.
‘That’s got to mean he likes me!’
Quick to calculate and shift stance, Ivy changed her mind as easily as flipping her palm. Then, as if she’d never been nervous, she opened her mouth sweetly.
“Could that business perhaps be related to how you stared at me yesterday…?”
That’s what Ivy was about to ask—but the count cut her off, as if seeking revenge.
“Why do you think I was staring at you?”
“Because you’re a socially awkward pervert?”
A cruel silence followed Ivy’s reply.
Both fell quiet, yet their expressions were vastly different.
The count narrowed his eyes and glared at Ivy, while Ivy herself froze with wide, round eyes.
Inside, however, her soul screamed in panic.
A pervert? Calling the count a pervert!
In her chaotic panic, Ivy briefly considered laughing instead. Maybe if she giggled like a fool, he’d find her endearing? No—better to bite her tongue. Die honorably in battle and preserve what little dignity remained.
Lost in absurd thoughts, Ivy hastily apologized to the count, who was now glaring at her.
“I-I’m sorry! Sometimes my mouth runs away with me…”
“Your nonsense is oddly specific.”
At the count’s rebuke, Ivy squeezed her eyes shut. She had no defense, not even with ten mouths.
Damn this curse. Damn this wretched curse.
Seeing Ivy fall into sorrowful silence, the count let out a faint sigh. Then, as if unwilling to argue further, he explained.
“It was verification.”
“Huh…?”
“I needed to confirm whether you were the person I was looking for. Ivy Ariate.”
The count called her name as if there could be no mistake. Then he quietly watched Ivy, whose eyes were wide with confusion and ignorance.
Seated demurely with hands folded, Ivy Ariate looked just like a doll.
Straight-flowing hair, a small, delicate face, darkly gleaming eyes. A shimmering silk blouse, a pale violet skirt, and above it all, slender, vulnerable shoulders.
Just as he had yesterday, the count took in every detail of Ivy’s appearance before continuing calmly.
“I was asked to protect you.”
“What do you mean…?”
“So from now on, I intend to look after you—as thoroughly as possible.”
The count was the kind of person who said “as thoroughly as possible” in the most half-hearted way imaginable. Moreover, his explanation was terribly vague.
Seeing Ivy bewildered, the count belatedly added,
“I’ll guarantee the life you desire. If you wish to remain alone, you’ll stay alone. If you wish to become nobility, I’ll arrange for you to be adopted or married into the house of your choice. And afterward, I’ll support you in whatever you need. As I said—thoroughly.”
His voice remained monotonous, but his words were extraordinary.
In other words, he was offering to become her guardian.
He was pledging to take responsibility for her future as one would for a younger sister or daughter.
Faced with such an excessive proposal, Ivy couldn’t decide whether to accept or refuse, so she asked instead,
“This is far too generous… Why would you go so far for me…?”
“I owe a debt—to the person who asked me to look after you.”
“Who is that person?”
Ivy asked honestly, truly not knowing.
She’d been thinking about it ever since he mentioned it, but nothing came to mind.
Someone close enough to ask the count to protect her.
Someone influential enough to place the count in their debt.
In Ivy’s entire life, there had never been anyone so familiar and capable.
She’d only asked sincerely—but the count’s eyes narrowed again.
He looked at her as if restraining his annoyance, then evaded her question with a cryptic reply.
“If you don’t know, there’s no need to find out. They wouldn’t want you to know, either.”
He’d accepted a request but claimed it wasn’t necessary to know who made it? That made no sense.
So Ivy began to suspect she might have some secret about her birth.
Maybe she wasn’t the orphan she thought—perhaps she had extraordinary parents who’d only now come forward.
That, too, sounded far too convenient. Yet Ivy couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.
She didn’t understand what was happening yet, but if the count spoke the truth, her future was surely bright.
Of course, yesterday’s blunder at the banquet would be smoothed over, and her shaky standing would actually grow stronger. Most importantly, Duke Laurel, who opposed Ivy’s selection as Holy Maiden, might change his mind because of his brother.
If that happened, the Holy Maiden position would be hers for certain—and this annoying curse would no longer matter.
‘This is good…?’
Ivy bit her lip to keep from smiling foolishly.
As if reading her thoughts, the count added,
“But there’s a condition.”
“Please, go ahead.”
“Give up becoming the Holy Maiden.”
In that instant, Ivy’s surging joy came to an abrupt halt.
“The Holy Maiden…?”
At Ivy’s question, the count nodded. Her briefly elated heart sank right back to where it started.
Why demand she give up the Holy Maiden position? What reason could there be?
Hiding her suspicion, Ivy asked the count,
“May I… ask why?”
“What is your reason for wanting to become the Holy Maiden?”
Instead of answering, the impudent count countered with another question. Reflexively, Ivy replied,
“Because I want to be someone who struggles… I mean, someone who endures hardship. It’s the Holy Maiden’s role to devote herself to the world and its people.”
Having unwittingly spilled her true feelings, Ivy panicked and quickly tried to cover it up. She desperately hoped the count hadn’t understood—or if he had, that he’d let it slide.
But the count, oblivious to her distress, asked again,
“Do you truly want to suffer?”
“No, I’m utterly sick of suffering… But even so, if it’s needed by everyone, I’ll gladly do it. Yes.”
“And who is ‘everyone’?”
“How should I know? …I mean, countless people I’ve never met?”
As the questions continued, the curse danced on the tip of her tongue. The more she spoke, the more she wanted to vomit.
She’d thought she could manage it if she just kept her wits about her—but her curse was far worse than she’d imagined.
Having babbled and revealed too much, Ivy swallowed her shame and glanced nervously at the count.
Fortunately, he neither smiled nor frowned. He simply watched her with a slanted gaze.
“If you’re so tired of suffering, you’d be better off as my ward than as the Holy Maiden.”
‘Damn it…’
At the count’s flat tone, Ivy swallowed her curse with a solemn face.
The count, who claimed to be socially awkward, had somehow grasped Ivy’s true feelings.
Overwhelmed by this irredeemable mess, Ivy lowered her head. Only then did the count finally explain his reasoning.
“The reason I asked you to give up the Holy Maiden position is, first, once you’re affiliated with the Tower, it becomes bothersome to interfere; second, the Holy Maiden must regularly descend to Vis, making it bothersome to protect you; third, as the first commoner Holy Maiden in history, you might face unknown threats, which would also be bothersome to guard against.”
Unlike Ivy, who’d rambled nonsense, the count’s reasoning was clear.
Having heard the word “bothersome” three times, Ivy gave a pale, embarrassed smile.
But it wasn’t over yet.
“And fourth—above all else—you’re utterly unsuited to be the Holy Maiden.”
Count Sion Laurel was clearly as socially awkward as he claimed.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to dismantle his opponent’s composure so effectively.
.
.
.
“I’ll give you time to think. I’ll hear your answer in four days.”
With those words, the count rose from his seat. At that moment, Ivy Ariate simply nodded and smiled obediently.
The count returned to Laurel Castle past noon.
“Where have you been since morning? And dressed so formally, too.”
As he entered the main hall, a low voice came from above the stairs.
There stood a black-haired man leaning against the railing—his half-brother, Duke Laurel.
The count said nothing upon seeing his brother and simply began climbing the stairs.
“I heard about it. Something happened while I was away.”
The duke spoke without concern, then scolded his younger brother instead.
“I’ll send a formal complaint to the Tower. That Ivy Ariate who insulted you will be confined and barred from appearing in public…”
“Don’t.”
Suddenly, the count—Sion—cut him off.
Startled by his brother’s firm tone, the duke stopped mid-sentence.
“What?”
“Don’t touch her.”
Sion warned his uncomprehending brother once more, then coldly walked past him.
The flustered duke called after Sion too late—but Sion ignored him again.
Sion Laurel hated everything about Tienda. He never wanted to return.
Yet he’d forced himself to come back for one reason alone.
Ivy Ariate. A debt he had to repay, no matter what.
As he strode down the corridor with a cold expression, Sion unconsciously furrowed his brow.
The Ivy Ariate he’d finally met after so much delay was even more foolish than he’d expected.
One moment she played the refined lady at the banquet, the next she caused a scene ranting about manners, constantly interrupting others under the guise of explaining herself, then outright calling him a pervert—and afterward, flusteredly claiming it was a mistake.
Sion couldn’t fathom how such a girl had survived this treacherous place called Tienda.
Not that he cared to know. He didn’t want to. Once the debt was repaid, it would be over.
With that thought, Sion erased Ivy Ariate’s presence from his mind—as if brushing off a splinter from his fingertip.
No one knew, but Sion Laurel carried a great debt.
And that debt, circling back again and again, must be repaid—to Ivy Ariate.
When the male lead is punished by carrying the female lead’s child and having periods like a woman
“I’ve given birth to two children for you, yet you still think about him.
Was I nothing but his substitute to you from beginning to end?”
Synopsis:
Meng Huan, a scumbag who has dated countless girlfriends, transmigrates to a female-dominated country.
Day 1: Whether it’s female dominance or not doesn’t matter. The beauties here are passionate and amorous. Isn’t it easier to date them than in modern times?
Day 2: After a night, Meng Huan discovers the differences in the female-dominated world. Men here actually have chastity locks and menstrual cycles. This hinders his ability to perform, damn it!
Day 3: What’s wrong with sleeping around? I don’t want you to marry me. I’m meant to be a playboy. I don’t care about male virtues… What? You want to drown me in a pig cage? Marry, I’ll marry!
Day N: Meng Huan inexplicably vomits and receives the shocking news of his life… He’s pregnant.
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is this chapter from another story?…… it doesn’t make sense at all…