Tiendavis - For Perfect Salvation - Chapter 38

“Watch over me at Tienda!”

Thus, Ibi’s first fair request was puzzling.

And also quite annoying.

It was just a few days ago that Tienda had been in an uproar, suspecting the two of them.

Yet in the midst of this, she asks to be watched over.

That meant becoming a lion screen to highlight and protect her, like that flower screen accentuating her jade-colored dress.

It felt like being pathetically used, but a promise was a promise nonetheless.

So Sion came up to Tienda again and even attended the flower-viewing event he normally wouldn’t bother with.

And now he was just staring at Ibi in a way likely to be misunderstood.

“Hello, Lord Valere. It’s been such a long time.”

“Ah, my lady. Have you been well? Yes, I’m always in good health.”

“I was so sorry too, Viscount Verde. Next time you invite me, I’ll make sure to attend.”

Meanwhile, Ibi went around greeting familiar nobles with a bright face.

This was the first time Ibi mingled with nobles like this since the Banquet of Destruction held at Laurel Castle.

After that, Ibi had been at the center of controversy and spent a long time in self-reflection.

So normally, curious nobles should be flocking to bombard her with questions, but at this wisteria festival, no one dared to casually approach Ibi.

Not only that, the nobles treated Ibi much more politely than usual, and young male nobles in particular visibly backed away, conscious of the figure behind Ibi’s shoulder.

Thanks to this, Ibi could comfortably stroll under the wisteria without worrying about curses.

In exchange, false rumors about Count Laurel would be further amplified, but Sion decided not to mind.

Having come this far, he didn’t care what the nobles of Tienda were gossiping about.

Moreover, what irritated him more now than the wary nobles was his adjutant fidgeting behind his back.

“Excuse me, I’m saying this just in case…”

The vice commander, who had been restless for a while, finally spoke after much agonizing.

“My younger brother is still a greenhorn. He has no manly qualities and only likes to chatter and drink tea. Haha.”

The vice commander laughed with a voice as cracked as if he had swallowed sand. Sion wondered what he was supposed to do about it.

Vice Commander Moren Arco is the eldest daughter of the Arco Count family, famous for being warlike.

But he has a younger brother who doesn’t fit the family’s stance at all, and that’s Arco Youngsik, who’s escorting Ibi over there.

Moren was already on high alert due to the commander-in-chief’s whims and rampages.

The commander-in-chief had shown unpredictable behavior these past few days, and Ibi Ariate was always at the end of it.

So Moren had been on edge about that saint candidate even while coming to Tienda this time.

But of all things, his naive brother appeared alongside Ibi, and poor Moren had been dripping cold sweat down his back since that moment.

“Just look at those clothes. Doesn’t that boy look like a doll? He’s still so young, shorts or skirts would suit him well. Who would think that boy is a man? Haha.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sion finally snapped, and Moren, who had been babbling, closed his mouth. Yet he still kept glancing at the commander-in-chief, seemingly uneasy about something.

So Sion inwardly swallowed a sigh.

He seemed worried that he might get jealous of his brother, but unfortunately, Sion was a person not much associated with such wasteful emotions.

To begin with, he didn’t empathize with the emotion called jealousy. The so-called obsession was the same.

Born into the Laurel family, with looks as handsome as you see, and blessed with a good body, mind, and talent, he had no need to cling to anything.

There was a minor flaw of being an illegitimate child, but he had brilliantly overcome this issue by making the family’s legitimate heir his lackey at the age of seven, and during his boyhood, he received so much affection that it was bothersome.

Thus, he had never felt wanting for anything.

So Sion found both the vice commander’s misunderstanding and the rumors surrounding him simply ridiculous, wondering who dared to attribute such base emotions to him.

Moreover, Moren’s brother barely registered in Sion’s eyes.

Because he was already busy just watching Ibi, who was moving around incessantly.

‘She sure moves around a lot.’

Sion thought as he watched Ibi, who never rested for a moment.

Actually, when Ibi told him to watch over her, he thought it was some kind of punishment. At the same time, he expected a very tedious time.

But once he actually did it, watching Ibi wasn’t as boring as he thought.

To be honest, it was unexpectedly interesting.

The wisteria blooming profusely and the hundred or so nobles no less splendid.

The servants passing through like shadows, the musicians huddled in the corner.

The luncheon plates being continuously refilled whether there were eaters or not.

All sorts of decorations hanging down.

Appropriate music,

Appropriate laughter,

Appropriate nonsense.

To Sion, who had nothing to gain from social gatherings, it was all fleeting and predictable scenery.

But Ibi was moving around very diligently as if this place was a riverbank where gold dust could be found.

While doing so, she smiled prettily, listened attentively with sparkling eyes, and chattered enthusiastically.

And when there was a gap, she looked around and pondered something again.

At a glance, she looked like a young lady excited about the festival, but to Sion, who knew what Ibi’s mind was like, that appearance looked like a very busy squirrel.

So watching that appearance didn’t get boring at all.

However, Ibi, who had played with Sion in Bis, seemed closer to a relaxed and playful cat, so this appearance with her antenna up felt somewhat unfamiliar inside.

It was when Sion was watching Ibi while thinking various thoughts.

“Oh, Count. Fancy seeing you here.”

A glib voice was heard from behind.

Light footsteps followed, but Sion didn’t bother to turn around.

Not only had he not allowed casual conversation, but he had already noticed that the owner of that frivolous voice was Marquis Montra.

“I hadn’t heard you were coming to the wisteria festival. If I’d known you were here, I would have come earlier too.”

Though his greeting was ignored, Marquis Montra spoke even more cordially. Then he turned his head, following Sion’s gaze.

“But what are you looking at so intently…?”

As Marquis Montra’s eyes naturally turned towards Ibi, Moren, who was behind Sion, stepped forward with his hands behind his back to block him.

Marquis Montra was startled by Moren suddenly entering his view, but soon spoke with a smiling face.

“It’s nice to see you often these days, Lady Isla.”

“Marquis, His Excellency is appreciating the flowers.”

“With Lady Isla’s flower right beside him, for His Excellency to appreciate other flowers, you must feel quite upset.”

Marquis Montra chattered like a fox.

So Moren smiled back, thinking he was the same old trash.

Moren was not only the vice commander of the guard and Viscount Arco but also Lady Isla.

All three were proud names, but Moren’s teeth clenched involuntarily at the slyness of that marquis who deliberately called her Lady Isla while she was assisting the commander-in-chief in the guard’s uniform.

“No, His Excellency doesn’t have the bad taste of treating people like flowers.”

“That’s good to hear. I was wondering if permission might be needed, but it’s great that he was really looking at the wisteria.”

Though Moren expressed her displeasure by putting barbs in her words, Marquis Montra responded with an even more cheerful face.

Then, before Moren could fully understand those words, he took a big step forward, and Moren belatedly realized her mistake.

.

.

.

“Ibiiii!”

It was an affectionate voice, as if calling a puppy.

Of course, it was an inappropriate voice for calling a lady’s name.

As Ibi turned around with an ominous premonition, suddenly a man’s tall shoulder covered her face.

“Mmph!”

Some man suddenly hugged Ibi, and with her face buried in his chest, Ibi pushed away his upper body, disgusted by the strong perfume smell.

The man then burst out laughing and stepped back just half a step.

“It’s been a while, I missed you.”

The man said, still looking down at Ibi from a close distance.

So Ibi looked at that man and muttered inwardly.

‘Is he crazy…’

Ibi, who was suddenly hugged, felt very dirty.

But she absolutely did not show that feeling above her neck.

“Hello, Marquis Montra.”

Because this man was none other than Cassel Montra, one of the great nobles.

Cassel Montra was a visibly dissolute man.

This man, exactly ten years older than Ibi, had no part of him from head to toe that wasn’t extravagant.

His hair, which looked silver in bright places and ash-colored in dark places, always had carefully curled ends, and his smooth face was always perfectly peach-colored.

He enjoyed wearing blazer coats that fit his body perfectly to show off his sleek figure, and at the same time, he liked flashy things, so he enjoyed the sparkle of embroidering his coats with gold and silver threads.

But he never wore such tailored coats more than twice.

The same went for his rings, perfume, shoes, belt, cuffs, or cravat decorations.

Everything he wore on his body boasted an astonishing price, but after being showcased once, it invariably fell asleep in the dressing room.

Cassel Montra was the most sophisticated and flashy person in Tienda, and fittingly, scandals never ceased about him, and sadly, most of those rumors were true.

So he was also a person Ibi was constantly wary of.

“Have you been well?”

Cassel asked, more gentle and affectionate than usual.

“No, every day felt like sitting on pins and needles.”

Of course, Ibi had to answer honestly. Fortunately, Cassel took this as a joke and laughed out loud.

“Yeah, right. It must have been hard. Because of a certain count.”

‘What’s with him today?’

Cassel glanced secretly towards where Sion was sitting with a mischievous smile, and so Ibi was inwardly flustered.

Cassel Montra is a man who doesn’t know loyalty and has clear strengths and weaknesses.

So when Sion opposed Ibi’s selection as a saint candidate, he was the first to let go and observe.

But today he suddenly changed his attitude and approached Ibi as if to show off, even though Sion was over there with his eyes wide open.

Could he be trying to protect this pitiful commoner girl from the terrifying count?

But there’s no way this guy would have such compassion, and Ibi was thinking what on earth it could be when she shuddered.

Because Cassel put his nose to Ibi’s nape and smelled her.

“You smell like the lower continent.”

Cassel murmured from a distance where, although not touching, his body heat could be felt and his breath brushed against her.

“Did you pick up the smell just from a short visit? I don’t like this smell.”

Hearing Cassel’s complaint right behind her, Ibi imagined.

Imagining stamping his face with the back of her head, stepping on his foot with her heel, slapping his cheek and then asking sternly if he was crazy.

All of them appealing, but Ibi chose none of them.

As a saint candidate of commoner origin, it was the natural principle to be polite to the great nobles who directly participated in the saint selection.

So when Ibi endured quietly, Cassel laughed lowly.

Just as his breath was about to disgust Ibi once again.

A strong hand that suddenly intruded grabbed Cassel’s shoulder and tore him away from Ibi.