Tiendavis - For Perfect Salvation - Chapter 48

Cassel Montra, who had been shouting loudly, suddenly became quiet.

Then Ibi, who was sitting on his back, stood up and kicked the man hard.

Cassel collapsed, seemingly unconscious, and Sion, watching the scene from afar, felt very strange.

‘I knew she wasn’t ordinary, but…’

I didn’t expect her to go this far.

Sion was watching Ibi rubbing her foot on Cassel Montra’s back with a mixture of admiration and bewilderment from a tower overlooking the hydrangea garden.

Just a few hours ago, Ibi had fainted from the shock of Cassel’s actions.

So Sion thought Ibi would naturally be dejected when she opened her eyes again. When her shoulders shook with her head down, he thought she was definitely crying.

But when Ibi raised her head again, far from crying, she immediately looked for a pen and paper with a face full of venom. Then she started scribbling something as if pouring out her grudge.

Holding the quill pen, Ibi muttered things like ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a backstab for a backstab’, ‘there will be a bloodbath tonight’ while laughing ominously, and Sion kept watching her, wondering what on earth she was planning to do.

But after that, Ibi didn’t give Sion any room for interference.

Instead, as soon as she finished writing the documents, she bowed to Sion, saying she was indebted to him. Then she climbed up to the secret passage in the ceiling, stepping on chairs and furniture. Leaving Sion’s outstretched hand, which he had reflexively extended to help her up, hanging awkwardly, she returned to her room alone like that.

Thus, Sion, left all alone, suffered from a strange sense of alienation.

Until now, problems that occurred in his domain were always reported to him first.

It was the same at the eastern border and in the small village in the southeast of Bis. Of course, when he held the position of Commander-in-Chief, and even when he was just an ill-tempered teacher, he was always in the position of listening to and solving the pleas of those around him.

But Ibi completely ignored Sion, who was right beside her, who had laid her down and even examined her while she was unconscious, and hurriedly went her own way.

To this, Sion felt somehow abandoned, and he had to ponder for a long time where this irrational emotion came from.

The conclusion he eventually reached was a bit pathetic even to himself.

Sion Laurel, as a born ruler, had a duty to protect what was in his domain.

And for complex reasons, having defined Ibi Ariate as someone he should protect as well, Sion naturally expected Ibi to share these hardships and frustrations with him. It was in the same context as when he had asked her the day before how she wanted to deal with the Marquis.

He was ready to step in if Ibi just said a word. Knowing the situation, he was willing to do as she wished, perhaps even more, if she just leaned on him a little.

But Ibi never said anything, pulling herself together and going off to fight on her own.

So the emperor preparing for a proxy war was feeling quite disregarded, even feeling like his rights had been infringed upon.

In short, he was feeling hurt because he thought she would lean on him, but she didn’t.

Of course, the Count, who disliked wasteful things, concluded that this feeling was quite trivial and useless.

So he tried to lose interest in this situation instead. She didn’t ask for help, so why bother caring, she must be doing this because she can handle it on her own, he tried to dismiss it.

But despite such efforts, Sion couldn’t help but leave his room irritably after just half an hour. He really didn’t want to interfere, but it kept bothering him so much that he couldn’t stand it.

Thus, the Count who had voluntarily gotten himself into trouble, found Ibi alone, having dismissed all his aides and assistants. Then he watched Ibi with not-so-good eyes.

He was planning to strike her with lightning if Cassel Montra tried to do anything untoward, and pretend not to know.

But Ibi subdued Cassel on her own without Sion having to watch over her, and thanks to that, Sion was now feeling not only alienated but also a faint sense of deprivation.

‘…Should I go back?’

Sion was aware that his current state was pathetic.

So he was about to quietly exit, but Ibi, who had already finished venting her anger, pulled on Cassel’s clothes hem.

This caused the man to roll half a turn and lie on his back, and Ibi dusted off her hands as if she was done. Then she walked towards the hydrangea flowerbed and casually pulled out something she had hidden there beforehand.

‘What’s that now?’

Sion frowned deeply as he looked at the object Ibi had pulled out.

Surely it’s not a weapon to finish off the Marquis.

Contrary to Sion’s concerns, it was far from being a weapon. That cute object with a handle was a basket well-suited for an outing.

Seeing this, Sion’s confusion deepened.

What’s with the basket in the middle of the night, could she be packing to run away?

Sion looked at that unpredictable being with a somewhat tired feeling.

But Ibi, completely oblivious to this, started walking cheerfully towards the other side of the hydrangea garden, swinging the basket like a girl going on a picnic.

.

.

.

Much later, when Sion found Ibi again, she was sitting on a bench placed in a corner of the hydrangea garden.

In that quiet place, Ibi was sitting in a posture that was neither demure nor gentle, that is, cross-legged on the bench, twirling a wine glass.

Then, seeing Sion appear through the dense hydrangea leaves, she muttered like this.

“Ugh, an intruder.”

“…You dragged me around all you wanted when you needed me, but now I’m an intruder when you don’t need me.”

Sion gritted his teeth, feeling upset at Ibi’s blatant complaint, his mood already unpleasant.

Ibi pretended not to notice for a moment, but soon nodded her head.

“Hmm, that’s a valid point. I was rude just now. Since you’re here, please sit down.”

Ibi moved to the end of the bench as if doing him a favor. Then, grinning, she swirled a transparent wine glass half-filled with wine.

“But there’s only one glass.”

Despite Ibi making room for once, instead of sitting next to her, Sion alternately looked at the glass in Ibi’s hand and the basket placed under the bench.

The basket that Ibi had been dangling earlier was indeed a picnic snack basket. Inside were a newly opened wine bottle and various snacks.

“What are you doing here?”

“As you can see, I’m toasting.”

Ibi elegantly raised her glass without saying what the toast was for.

Then she took a tiny sip and frowned. Ugh, it’s bitter. Ibi, grimacing at the sour taste of alcohol, quickly put a chocolate in her mouth. Then she pretended to savor the wine again, swirling the glass.

“You don’t seem to be much of a drinker.”

“That’s right, I’m just pretending.”

“If that’s the case, you should do it on a safer day in a safer place.”

“No way, if I drink at home, the butler will nag.”

When Ibi mentioned a butler, Sion’s eyebrows creased slightly.

“You seem past the age to be interfered with like that.”

“You’re right, I am. But he still does, so petty.”

But Ibi chirped on nonchalantly, not noticing Sion’s expression.

So the Count, who disliked wasteful emotions, encountered a situation that made him even more exasperated than before.

The butler Ibi mentioned was a handsome man with red hair.

He never left Ibi’s side, even pretended to be a couple without hesitation, and even shared the same room.

At the same time, he possessed the insight of Amanasser, was suspiciously agile, and desperately protected Ibi.

Why would a mere butler do all that?

Sion was irritated by the butler named Dies in every way. He had never heard of such a thing being attached to Ibi’s side.

He didn’t want to care but he did, and he didn’t want to admit that he cared, but his nasty personality wouldn’t let him just let it go.

So Sion, after repeatedly getting irritated and swallowing it internally, wondering why he had to worry about such things, just opened his mouth.

“That butler…”

“Wait, are you going to ask a question?”

But Ibi interrupted Sion’s words, holding out her hand. Then she said in a quite firm tone.

“Count. From now on, when you want to ask me personal questions, could you first ask if it’s okay to ask such questions? I’m not a letter addressed to you that you can just open and read as you please.”

Ibi drew the line once again, annoyingly.

It was a reasonable assertion, but Sion, who had been repeatedly pushed back, felt quite bad.

So he thought about just leaving, thinking he didn’t care about the butler or whatever. He wasn’t the type to endure being treated as an intruder and stay put in the first place.

So he could just turn around without wasting any more time, but for some reason, Sion couldn’t take a step. So after pondering, he temporarily set aside his sky-high pride and pretended to be mature, following Ibi’s request.

“…May I ask about that butler?”

“No. You may not.”

But Ibi shot this down in an instant too, and Sion glared at her, feeling more upset than when he was called an intruder.

However, his fierceness didn’t last long in front of the calmly grinning Ibi. It was because Ibi’s pale face just before she collapsed overlapped with her smiling face.

Despite claiming she wasn’t okay at all and barely able to breathe, now she’s all better and smiling, so he didn’t know how to react.

One thing was clear: this playful appearance was much better than that fragile appearance from earlier, and in the end, Sion conceded once again and sat down with his legs crossed at the end of the bench that Ibi had made room for.

He could feel Ibi looking at him in surprise as he sat down beside her. But Sion pretended not to notice and asked.

“How long are you going to stay here?”

“Until things settle down. But it seems like it’ll take a while, so I’m thinking of enjoying the flowers all night.”

So that’s why you prepared snacks.

At Ibi’s answer, Sion looked at the snack basket once again. Meanwhile, Ibi asked back.

“When are you going back, Count?”

Instead of answering, Sion just sighed, and Ibi smiled weakly looking at his face.

“I guess it wasn’t a lie that you have a debt.”

At the sudden mention of debt, Sion raised his head, and Ibi avoided his gaze and put the wine glass to her lips again.

Of course, this time too, she barely moistened the tip of her tongue like a sparrow pecking at water.

Sion wondered why she bothered drinking if she was going to do that, but Ibi seemed to like the scent left on her lips even with just that much, and opened her mouth more honestly than usual.

“You were watching earlier too, right?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Were you afraid the Marquis might hit me?”

“I didn’t expect you to even win in a physical fight.”

At Sion’s honest answer, Ibi laughed deflated.

“Did you really think I would cause trouble without any plan? Aren’t you underestimating me too much?”

Ibi jokingly complained. Then she added in a slightly softened voice.

“You’re having a hard time too, Count. Thanks to that old man making an unnecessary request.”

Ibi concluded that Sion had followed her this far because of the debt he owed to the astrologer.

It wasn’t exactly wrong, so Sion just listened quietly. Then Ibi grumbled as if she really regretted it.

“If it weren’t for that, neither you nor I would have been tangled up so tiringly like this.”

Ibi said this while looking at Sion as if seeking agreement.

At that moment, Ibi’s eyes were more innocent than usual, without any malice or intention.

So Sion was engulfed by yet another unfamiliar emotion following the sense of alienation and deprivation.

The identity of that emotion was wretchedness.