Tiendavis - For Perfect Salvation - Chapter 4

“Getting drunk that early, should I check how much champagne the servants were carrying?”

The Count’s soliloquy was monotonous.

So Ibi thought it would be better if he just got angry.

Rather than reciting leisurely with his mouth while glaring so fiercely with his eyes.

“It would be nice if that could be confirmed, but whether the servants will remember everyone they handed glasses to…”

“They will remember. It was still early evening.”

Ibi tried to argue, but the Count’s reaction was still formidable. So Ibi secretly clenched her hands resting on her knees.

‘Did he come to harp on this?’

It’s understandable. Having lost face so badly in front of people, he must have ground his teeth all night and rushed over as soon as day broke.

Ibi swallowed dryly, certain of the Count’s malice. Then, as she lowered herself further to endure the coming humiliation.

“But if that’s what the person in question says, I’ll have to believe it.”

The Count suddenly spoke in a calm voice.

“I didn’t mean to doubt and question. I’m just awkward at socializing.”

He spoke as if yesterday’s incident didn’t matter at all.

Ibi, who had been tense, raised her head in surprise, and was dumbfounded to see the Count leisurely lifting his teacup.

Awkward at socializing? No, it was the opposite. The Count was someone who knew very well how to skillfully manipulate people.

“…Doubt? It was quite reasonable to say. I’m just sorry to you, Count. I’ll apologize again for yesterday’s incident.”

Though she keenly felt the Count was toying with her, Ibi bowed again. Even if it hurt her pride, she had no choice. The most important thing for Ibi now was to resolve yesterday’s matter.

“If it wasn’t intentional, that’s fine. I’ll consider that incident an accident, so let’s move on to the main point.”

“The main point… Do you mean you have other business?”

“That’s right.”

The Count readily accepted Ibi’s apology. Then he brought up a new topic, which made Ibi’s mind busy again.

The main point? What main point?

Business that would make Sion Laurel come all the way to Ibi Ariate’s house.

Nothing particularly comes to mind. If forced to come up with something…

‘Did he really fall in love at first sight?’

The first hypothesis Dies had mocked suddenly rose to prominence.

Even Ibi had meant it as half a joke, but now she looked at the Count with half belief, half doubt at this new development.

It seems too optimistic an interpretation, but it’s not entirely impossible.

In fact, Ibi is lovable by anyone’s standards. Especially yesterday, she had dressed up very prettily.

Moreover, the Count’s reaction. Though he scolded her a bit, he ultimately overlooked yesterday’s incident generously. It’s an extremely lenient treatment compared to the rudeness Ibi committed.

‘This much must be a sign of favor!’

Quick to calculate and change her stance, Ibi switched her thoughts again this time. Then she opened her mouth cutely as if she had never been nervous.

“Could it be that this business is related to how you looked at me yester…”

Ibi was about to ask, “…day?” But the Count cut off her words vindictively.

“Why do you think I looked at you?”

“Because you’re an awkward pervert?”

A cruel silence fell at Ibi’s answer.

Both of them participated in the silence, but their expressions were very different.

The Count glared at Ibi with narrowed eyes, while Ibi froze with her eyes wide open.

Instead, she screamed at the top of her soul.

A pervert, calling the Count a pervert!

Ibi, who had gone into panic, thought about laughing it off amidst the chaos. If she laughed stupidly here, would he find it cute? No, she should bite her tongue instead. Die gloriously and at least preserve her honor.

Ibi was having these absurd thoughts when she hurriedly apologized to the Count who was glaring at her.

“I-I’m sorry, sometimes I blurt out nonsense…”

“That’s too specific for nonsense.”

At the Count’s rebuke, Ibi tightly closed her eyes. She had no words to say even if she had ten mouths.

Damn this curse, this damn curse.

As Ibi remained silent pitifully, the Count let out a faint sigh. Then he explained as if he didn’t want to argue.

“It was confirmation.”

“Pardon…?”

“I was confirming whether you were the person I was looking for. Ibi Ariate.”

The Count called Ibi’s name as if there was no mistake. Then he quietly looked at the clueless Ibi whose eyes had gone round.

Ibi Ariate, sitting with her hands clasped demurely, looked just like a doll.

Hair flowing in straight lines, a small and slender face, dark shining eyes. A shimmering silk blouse and lavender skirt. The delicate line of her shoulders revealed above.

The Count took in Ibi’s appearance piece by piece, just as he had done yesterday, and calmly continued speaking.

“I received a request to protect you.”

“What do you mean…”

“So from now on, I plan to look after you. To the best of my ability.”

The Count was someone who said “to the best of my ability” very halfheartedly. Moreover, his explanation was extremely unkind.

Seeing Ibi fall into confusion, the Count belatedly added.

“I will guarantee the life you want. If you wish to be alone, I’ll leave you alone. If you want to become nobility, I’ll arrange for adoption or marriage into the family you desire. After that, I’ll support whatever you need. As I said before, to the best of my ability.”

The Count’s voice was still monotonous, but the content was groundbreaking.

In other words, this is saying he’ll become her guardian.

It’s like saying he’ll take responsibility for her future, as if to a younger sister or daughter.

At this excessive proposal, Ibi asked back, neither liking nor disliking it.

“This, this is too much for me, why would you go so far…”

“I have a debt. To the person who asked me about you.”

“Who is that person?”

Ibi asked because she really didn’t know.

She had been thinking since hearing about it earlier, but nothing came to mind.

Someone who would ask to protect Ibi.

At the same time, someone who could put the Count in debt.

There was certainly no one so close and capable in Ibi’s past life.

So she honestly asked, but the Count’s gaze narrowed again.

The Count looked at Ibi with an expression of suppressing displeasure, then soon avoided answering with a strange remark.

“If you don’t know, there’s no need to know. They probably don’t want you to know either.”

To say there’s no need to know who made the request when he received one – it was nonsense.

So Ibi suspected she might have some secret about her birth.

Thinking she was an orphan with no ties, but actually having amazing parents who belatedly…

This too is too favorable an interpretation. Nevertheless, Ibi couldn’t help but be tempted inwardly.

Though she still doesn’t know what’s what, if the Count’s words are true, Ibi’s future is certainly rosy.

Of course the mistake she committed at yesterday’s banquet will be overlooked, and Ibi’s shaken position will rather become more solid. Above all, Duke Laurel, who opposes Ibi’s selection as Saint, might change his mind because of his younger brother.

If that happens, the Saint position is a sure thing, and this annoying curse will no longer be a problem.

‘This is good…?’

Ibi bit her lip to keep from smiling mindlessly.

Then, as if reading Ibi’s thoughts, the Count added.

“But there’s a condition.”

“Please tell me.”

“Give up on becoming the Saint.”

At that moment, Ibi’s surging joy came to an abrupt halt.

“The Saint… you say?”

The Count nodded at Ibi’s question. So Ibi’s heart, which had been briefly elated, returned to its original place.

Give up on becoming the Saint, why is such a condition necessary?

Hiding her suspicion, Ibi asked the Count.

“Um, may I ask the reason?”

“What is your reason for wanting to become the Saint?”

But the ill-mannered Count countered the question with a question. So Ibi reflexively answered.

“Because I want to become a difficult person. …By difficult person, I mean someone who suffers. Because dedicating oneself to the world and people is the role of a Saint.”

Having unknowingly spilled her true feelings, Ibi was surprised and hurriedly made excuses. Then she earnestly hoped the Count hadn’t understood her true intentions, or even if he had heard, that he would just gloss over it.

But the Count, without any tact, asked back.

“You want to suffer?”

“No, I’m sick and tired of suffering now. …But no matter how sick and tired I am, if it’s necessary for everyone, I should do it willingly. Yes.”

“Who is this ‘everyone’?”

“How would I know. …I mean, countless people I don’t know?”

As the questions continued, the curse danced on the tip of her tongue. Thanks to this, Ibi felt more and more like throwing up with each word.

She thought if she just stayed very alert she could handle it to some degree, but Ibi’s curse was more vicious than expected.

Having rambled and exposed herself, Ibi swallowed her self-loathing and watched the Count’s reaction.

Fortunately, the Count neither smiled nor frowned. He just observed Ibi with a slanted gaze.

“If you’re sick and tired of suffering, it would be better to stay as my ward than become the Saint.”

‘Damn it…’

At the Count’s flat voice, Ibi swallowed a curse with a solemn face.

The Count, who said he was awkward at socializing, had somehow understood Ibi’s true feelings.

In this unsalvageable mess, Ibi hung her head, and only then did the Count state his own reasons.

“The reasons I told you to give up the Saint position are: first, it’s troublesome to interfere once you belong to the Tower as a Saint; second, Saints have to periodically go down to Bis so it’s troublesome to protect; and third, we don’t know what threats an unprecedented commoner Saint might face, so this too is troublesome to protect against.”

Unlike Ibi who had spouted nonsense, the Count’s reasons were clear.

Having heard the word ‘troublesome’ three times, Ibi smiled palely with a completely burnt out face.

But it wasn’t over yet.

“And fourth, above all, it doesn’t suit you. Being a Saint, not at all.”

Count Sion Laurel was clearly awkward at socializing, as he said.

Otherwise, he couldn’t have so effectively crushed the other person’s spirits like this.

.

.

.

―You’ll need time to think, so I’ll hear your answer in four days.

The Count left these words and rose from his seat. At that time, Ibi Ariate just nodded and smiled obediently.

It was past noon when the Count returned to Laurel Castle.

“Where have you been since morning? Dressed up like that too.”

A low voice was heard from the stairs as he entered the main hall.

There, a black-haired man resembling the Count was leaning on the railing. It was the Duke of Laurel, his half-brother.

The Count stepped onto the stairs without saying anything even after seeing his brother.

“I heard what happened. There was an incident while I was away.”

However, the Duke spoke regardless. Then he rather got angry about his brother’s affairs.

“I’m going to send a letter of protest to the Tower. To put Ibi Ariate, who insulted you, under house arrest so she can’t go out anymore…”

“Don’t.”

But suddenly the Count, Sion, stopped those words.

At his brother’s firm voice, the Duke stopped speaking in surprise.

“What?”

“Don’t touch that child.”

Sion warned his brother again, who didn’t understand. Then he coldly passed by him.

The confused Duke called out to Sion belatedly, but Sion ignored him this time too.

Sion Laurel hated everything about Tienda. So he never wanted to come back.

Nevertheless, the reason he forcibly returned was one thing.

Ibi Ariate. A debt that had to be repaid anyway.

Sion, who was crossing the corridor with a cold face, unknowingly furrowed his brow.

Ibi Ariate, whom he met after putting it off again and again, was more foolish than expected.

At the banquet she seemed to be putting on airs, then suddenly caused a commotion talking about manners, interrupted others’ words while trying to explain, suddenly denounced him as a pervert. And then floundered about saying it was a mistake.

Sion couldn’t understand how such a child had survived in this harsh Tienda.

Of course, there’s no need to know. He doesn’t want to know either. Once the debt is repaid, it’s over.

Thinking this, Sion erased the existence of Ibi Ariate, like a hangnail on his fingertip, from his mind.

Unknown to anyone, Sion Laurel has a great debt.

And that circling debt must be repaid to Ibi 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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