Tiendavis - For Perfect Salvation (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 5
“There. All done.”
At the astrologer’s words, young Ivy opened her drowsily closed eyes. Then, seeing the clear view before her, she let out a loud exclamation.
“I can see clearly now!”
Feeling her head much lighter, Ivy shook it side to side. Her neatly braided hair swayed along with the motion.
Her bangs, which always poked her eyes, were gone, and her previously messy hair was now neatly arranged. Ivy found it so astonishing that she strained to see the tips of her own hair.
The astrologer sitting behind her chuckled at the sight, then, as if suddenly remembering something, pulled an object from his robes.
“Oh, I have this too.”
It was a blue ribbon.
Even at a glance, it looked like a fine item, and Ivy’s eyes widened. While she watched, the astrologer used it to adorn her hair.
Once the ribbon was tied in her hair, Ivy fumbled at it awkwardly and murmured,
“This doesn’t suit me.”
“But it’s pretty?”
“What’s the point? It’ll just get snatched away soon anyway. The nasty folks around here claim anything valuable as their own.”
Irritably snapping back at the compliment, Ivy firmly pulled the ribbon from her hair.
Yet, reluctant to part with it, she didn’t return it to the astrologer and instead kept fiddling with it.
The blue ribbon felt pleasant to the touch and was beautifully colored—but the moment Ivy’s hands touched it, it quickly became soiled.
Startled by the sudden stain, Ivy dropped it, then feigned innocence and said,
“Things like this only suit those kids living in Tienda—the nobles who never get dirt on their hands.”
As Ivy spoke, the astrologer merely smiled quietly.
Reassured by his silence, Ivy flopped back onto the astrologer’s legs behind her.
Thus, she could see both the astrologer’s chin beneath his deeply pulled hood and the underside of Tienda’s sky-obscuring base.
Seeing her favorite things all at once, Ivy grinned. Then she snatched up the ribbon that had fallen onto her lap.
“Still, I’ll keep this. I’ll go to Tienda someday, and I’ll wear it there. I’m sure it’ll suit me perfectly then!”
.
.
.
Eight years had passed since that bold declaration, and three days had gone by since Count Sion Laurel visited Ivy’s residence.
Those three days were both the time Ivy forbade herself from going out under the pretense of self-reflection and more than enough time for rumors to spread to every corner of this vast yet narrow Tienda.
“Huff.”
Ivy entered her study carrying a box and dumped it directly onto the silver tray atop her desk.
Papers spilled out of the box in a cascade.
Each palm-sized slip was a brief daily status report left by anonymous helpers working throughout Tienda.
Ivy regularly collected and reviewed these notes to keep track of her reputation.
“Well, let’s take a look…?”
Though this was a weekly routine, Ivy unfolded the notes with more tension than usual.
Just as expected, most of the remarks about Ivy this week were tied to the banquet held at Laurel Castle.
—Many expressed great surprise, saying they’d never seen Ivy Ariate talk back like that before.
—Numerous argued that someone who doesn’t even know proper decorum shouldn’t be made a saintess.
—One commendation noted that Ivy Ariate’s courage in confronting a high noble was admirable.
—Everyone was curious about why Count Laurel had stared at Ivy Ariate.
“…Not as bad as I thought?”
Opening the notes with a nervous heart, Ivy blinked in surprise at the unexpectedly mild reactions.
As anticipated, the nobles who’d gathered in small groups were fixated on the story of Ivy and the count.
Yet, there was still no outcry demanding Ivy Ariate be stoned for daring to challenge a high noble. Though some negative remarks existed, they were no worse than usual.
Half-convinced yet still doubtful, Ivy kept reading—and the more she read, the clearer it became.
The status Ivy had desperately built up hadn’t collapsed from a single outburst. Instead, people seemed puzzled: “Why would that gentle Ivy Ariate act so boldly?”
“Oh, thank goodness… really…”
Relieved, Ivy let out a deep sigh.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d worried over this for the past three days—dreaming every night of falling back into that abyss, her sleep constantly restless.
Yet the nobility’s response had been surprisingly calm, and Ivy felt wave after wave of relief.
Finally at ease, Ivy lit a candle belatedly. As she burned the notes she’d already checked, she unfolded the rest.
—Someone joked this was Ivy Ariate’s retaliation against Duke Laurel. Sounded foolish.
—Many opinions suggested Count Laurel also seemed to dislike Ivy Ariate.
—Frequent questions arose: Why was Laurel so unusually quiet about such a serious matter?
Resting her chin in her hand, Ivy stared at the notes repeatedly mentioning Laurel.
“Now that I think about it, why is Duke Laurel still silent? He should be furious and demanding I be locked up.”
In truth, Ivy had thought she might be imprisoned in the tower for the incident at the banquet—that was the harshest punishment Tienda’s high nobles could impose on her.
If any other commoner in Tienda—a servant or merchant—had insulted Count Laurel as Ivy did, they’d have been jailed, exiled, or even executed in the worst case.
But Ivy was different. As someone belonging to the Manyanya Tower, she could only be judged by the Tower Lord—meaning even Duke Laurel couldn’t lay hands on her directly.
Therefore, the Duke should’ve been raising hell with the Tower Lord by now—but strangely, there’d been no word from that side either.
“Could the count have intervened?”
Hoping against hope, Ivy recalled the proposal Count Laurel had tossed her way three days ago.
—“So, from now on, I intend to look after you—with the utmost sincerity.”
—“But there’s one condition: give up becoming a saintess.”
It was astonishing that the count had said such a thing.
Because of it, Ivy had spent day and night agonizing over whether the cup he offered was a toast or poison.
If his words were genuine, perhaps the count had stopped her punishment from going through.
Of course, even if it was a lie, that was possible too. Maybe the Duke and the count were in league, trying to lure this lowly commoner away from the saintess position with sweet words.
As countless suspicions swirled in her mind, Ivy quickly shook her head and repeated the conclusion she’d already reached.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s real or a trap. I’m going to refuse anyway.”
Ivy had already made up her mind to reject the count’s offer.
She simply couldn’t accept the condition of giving up the saintess title.
It wouldn’t matter even if the count offered to be her footstool instead of her guardian.
Ivy had to become the saintess, no matter what—so the count’s proposal was utterly invalid. It only added the burden of refusal.
“Come to think of it, it’s tomorrow.”
The day the count expected her answer. Also the day the purification ceremony would be held at Manyanya Tower.
Already anxious about the next day, Ivy burned the note in her hand with a weary heart.
But the next note tired her just as much.
—Many agreed with the speculation that Sion Laurel and Ivy Ariate already knew each other.
—I wanted to knock out the front teeth of some noble spitting venom: “They clearly weren’t acting like strangers—must’ve met in Vis!”
—Minor suspicions that the two might be lovers, or that the banquet incident was a lovers’ quarrel.
—Rumors that Sion Laurel had visited Ivy Ariate’s residence were spreading doubt further.
“Lovers? Who on earth…?”
Ivy laughed helplessly.
Right, she’d expected such rumors. Gossip always thrives on drama. But she never imagined they’d fabricate a whole past encounter in Vis.
Amused yet exasperated, Ivy let out a dry chuckle—then abruptly stopped laughing as she read the next note.
—Several young noblewomen passionately insisted Ivy Ariate didn’t suit Sion Laurel.
This, too, could normally be laughed off—but the specific phrasing on that note brought back the count’s words.
—“Above all, you don’t suit it. The saintess role doesn’t suit you at all.”
Three days ago, the count had said this with utter indifference—as if stating an eternal, unquestionable truth.
Though she hadn’t shown it then, Ivy had felt deeply upset.
“I know I don’t suit it.”
Biting her lip, Ivy recalled the count’s cold expression.
He was right. Ivy was the leading saintess candidate, but only because she’d acted the part people expected.
Her true nature and genuine feelings were far removed from the noble illusion of a saintess.
Still, for the past two years, she’d struggled desperately to force herself into that mold—and to her, the count had spoken with such careless indifference:
—“If you’re utterly exhausted, it’d be better to live as my ward than as a saintess.”
“Laughable. He doesn’t understand anything.”
Ivy gave a hollow laugh at the count’s arrogance.
He seemed to believe he was granting her a great favor—but that was a colossal delusion.
What the count offered in exchange for giving up the saintess title was something Ivy could easily obtain if she wanted.
At twenty, Ivy had already received marriage proposals from several noble sons.
Among them were pathetic men eyeing her popularity or abilities, as well as sincere, earnest young men who truly admired her.
If she’d simply extended her left ring finger, Ivy could’ve joined a noble house.
But she hadn’t. Because without becoming the saintess, it would all be meaningless.
Five years ago, Ivy had lived in an orphanage in Vis. At fifteen, she caught the Tower Lord’s eye and ascended to Tienda.
Yet Ivy didn’t take her first step into Tienda’s social circles until two years ago, at eighteen.
During those three years in between, Ivy hadn’t stayed in some comfortable mansion in Tienda—but deep beneath the Manyanya Tower.
She’d thought Tienda was paradise—but the place she arrived at was a far more horrifying abyss than the slums or orphanage she’d known.
But by the time she realized she’d stepped into the wrong place, it was already too late.
Ivy was trapped in the tower’s underground, forced to serve Tienda’s nobles like a slave.
Trying to escape the dark slums and prison-like orphanage, she’d ended up buried even deeper in hell.
Yet Ivy didn’t collapse.
True to her childhood vow, she endlessly yearned to become someone of worth—and staked everything she had.
—“You want to become a saintess?”
—“How amusing. Fine, go ahead. If you succeed, I’ll grant your wish and set you free.”
—“But if you fail, you’ll live your whole life down here—with that mangy dog.”
There, the Tower Lord accepted Ivy’s proposal. The sight of a destitute child boldly making a wager had seemed both cute and ridiculous to him.
To the Tower Lord, it was a whimsical game—but to Ivy, it was her one and only chance in life.
That was what becoming a saintess meant to her.
Wanting to become someone of worth was Ivy’s own way of saying she wanted to live like a human being.
“Enough. Stop thinking about it.”
Ivy slapped both her cheeks with her hands, then shook off the heavy mood and cheerfully unfolded another note.
—One young noblewoman expressed her insecurity: “Ivy Ariate openly flirted with the count—so uncultured! Must be because she’s from Vis!”
“Heh.”
Ivy immediately burned that note. Not satisfied, she set fire to all the remaining notes on the tray.
Ahaha, burn away!
Outraged by the world’s ugliness, saintess candidate Ivy Ariate ultimately committed arson on the tray.
As flames rose, an unexpected scolding came from the doorway.
“Playing with fire at your age?”
At the weary voice, Ivy turned her head.
Deis, clad in a black coat, stood at the door—having returned at some point.
“Oh, you’re back?”
Ivy flapped her hands uselessly, trying to extinguish the desk fire. Of course, it did nothing.
At her futile effort, Deis removed his gloves and approached. Then, using the lid that matched the silver tray, he covered the blazing tray.
After a moment, the fire went out and the smell of burning filled the air. Ivy turned away with an embarrassed look.
“How was the investigation? Did you find anything?”
Deis had been away from the mansion for the past three days, looking into Ivy’s curse.
So Ivy gazed at him with hopeful eyes—and the capable steward replied with confident assurance.
“I’ve made considerable progress. I’m tracking down the one who cast the curse.”
When scheming men desperately battle for her favor in the male harem
This one’s also on my reread list! The rivalry, scheming between the men in the imperial harem are just as intense and thrilling as in classic palace drama novels, where concubines fight to the death. Give it a read, girls! I promise you won’t be disappointed.
Synopsis:
“I am not worthy of her… but I still want to be by her side, even if only as a loyal dog…”
Those were the painful whispers of Yue Guanyi – the proud Crown Prince of the Great Qi, who was torn between deep love and a guilty conscience. Despite holding the supreme power of the Imperial Guard, he still could not forget the dark past when he was sold into a brothel.
Fate played a cruel twist when Qiu Shuzhi – a young female official who had just passed the imperial examinations with top honors – stepped into his life. She did not know that she was the one who had saved him from a tragic fate many years ago. And now, her heart was the target of pursuit for both Yue Guanyi and the powerful Empress Dowager Qin Qing.
While Yue Guanyi only dared to silently care for and protect the one he loved from afar, the Empress Dowager Qin Qing openly expressed his feelings and did not hesitate to take advantage of his power to approach Qiu Shuzhi. The covert struggle between the two most powerful forces in the imperial court began…
Trigger warning: All men in this novel are yandere style.
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is this chapter from another story?…… it doesn’t make sense at all…