Tiendavis - For Perfect Salvation - Chapter 54

When Ibi asked about the salt, Cassel’s heart sank.

But he didn’t show it and growled.

“…What nonsense is this now?”

“You’re right, it’s just nonsense.”

Ibi replied playfully, which made Cassel’s mind race.

‘What’s this, does she know something?’

The salt Ibi mentioned was the purifying salt produced in Manyanya Tower. It’s what humans from the lower continent buy at great expense to avoid the curse of the new moon night.

Cassel had received the right to distribute that salt from the tower master. So he skillfully sold the salt and dutifully sent the profits to the tower.

Of course, “dutifully” only refers to what’s on the books.

The sinful Cassel flinched, but hid his anxiety and scoffed skillfully.

“Why, trying to pick a fight?”

“Yes, I’ll give it a try.”

Ibi answered very brightly, and before her Cassel struggled not to glare.

Since it was related to the tower, he had managed everything about the salt especially meticulously.

It’s not like fooling around with multiple women, or meddling in his cousin’s love affairs, or rounding up wild horses – things that could be dug up if someone was determined.

So the chances of Ibi knowing anything were slim. No, nonexistent. Unless she had searched the count’s vault, or unless Montra’s retainers had betrayed him prepared for self-destruction.

But why is she suddenly mentioning salt? Is she just fishing?

As Cassel looked at her suspiciously, Ibi added with a bright smile.

“Because I purified that salt, didn’t I?”

At those words, Cassel’s chest went cold.

He didn’t fully understand what Ibi meant. But he could guess from between the lines.

‘Could it be that she can trace the whereabouts of salt she purified?’

This was the first he’d heard of such a thing. Of course. This was a lie Ibi had casually thrown out to test Cassel.

‘Hehehe. Tremble, you pig!’

Ibi, with her white face and black heart, teased Cassel and laughed inside and out.

In fact, what Cassel had said earlier was half right.

-What do you think you can accomplish by stirring things up with what you’ve eavesdropped on like a rat?

As he said, the weaknesses of Cassel that Ibi had steadily collected so far were too trivial to shake his position.

But Ibi was certain.

A man whose private life was already this messy must have been up to all sorts of things behind the scenes in his family business and other ventures. Honestly, he was only intact because no one had touched him yet, but if prodded, dust would come out like a fog.

So she tested the waters a bit, and sure enough, when she suddenly brought up salt, Cassel’s gaze wavered for an instant. Of course, this cunning man quickly feigned composure, but he couldn’t escape the eyes of Ibi who had survived her whole life on her wits.

‘Salt, new moon, arena…’

Ibi quietly murmured the words that flashed through her mind. Then she smiled again, white and black.

Now that she had grasped a few threads, filling in the blanks was just a matter of time. Ibi was fired up with enthusiasm, feeling more refreshed than ever.

“Since it seems we have nothing more to discuss, I’ll take my leave now.”

Ibi deliberately left a mystery as she stood up. Cassel could only glare at her, unable to stop her.

So Ibi crossed the reception room with a leisurely and wicked smile, then stopped abruptly in front of the door.

Ibi grabbed the doorknob and thought for a moment, then turned back towards Cassel.

Then she lifted the hem of her skirt and gracefully curtsied to the count who was glaring at her.

“I was also sincere when I thanked you yesterday, Count.”

When Ibi suddenly showed courtesy, Cassel frowned slightly.

But Ibi no longer cared about his reaction and smiled neatly. So Cassel’s mood became strange once again.

The Ibi he knew didn’t smile like that. He didn’t know a girl who smiled so firmly.

“Since I decided to become a saint, I haven’t had a single easy day. Building up refinement to look saintly, wearing a dress for the first time in my life, smiling kindly while begging for favor from people who despise me for being from Bis, it really was…”

Ibi complained as if even thinking about it was tiring. Then she spoke proudly, like a daughter about to become independent.

“Still, I foolishly endured thinking I just had to hang on a little longer, but thanks to you pushing me, Count, I realized. That the goodwill and support gained by acting nice is thinner than paper, and in the end they can easily crumple it up as it suits them.”

However, the content of those words was not at all admirable or praiseworthy. Rather, it was full of sharpness pretending not to be.

“So I’ve decided. Since becoming a saint by being loved is completely out of the question, I’ll become a saint more to my taste. Of course it won’t be easy, but since the world is already in chaos anyway, nothing should be impossible.”

In Tienda, arrogance is a right and humility is a duty.

Order, dignity, authority. No matter how much you try to wrap it up with such things, the structure of Tienda was fundamentally the same as Bis. Winner takes all, the strong gain and the weak lose.

So Ibi also made a new resolution.

Not to be the saint everyone wants – beautiful as if painted, a symbol of hope, but not allowed to overstep – but to be a saint no one wants, yet cannot dare to drive out or remove.

“So I’ll be in your care until the very end.”

Until the very end – Cassel didn’t properly understand this phrase either. It was proof that he hadn’t listened carefully to Ibi’s words, as she had complained earlier.

To reiterate, everything Ibi said yesterday was sincere.

Ibi was determined to show them this time. What the consequences are for toying with her. If the example is a great noble, then she could become the difficult saint they want.

Of course it won’t be easy, but most of Ibi’s life has been difficult anyway. Yet she never gave up and made it this far.

This time is no different. If there’s still something she can do, she’ll do it. Even in this rotten and messed up world, since she’s decided to live, she has to live.

Yesterday, Ibi raised a toast with this mindset.

Commemorating knocking down Cassel Montra for the first time, celebrating herself who will work hard to beat him up from now on.

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After finishing her meeting with Cassel, Ibi came out into the hallway and encountered Rio Tuha at the door.

Rio was glaring at Ibi with her usual stiff face.

She clearly had an air of waiting for Ibi, but Ibi pretended not to notice as usual, smiling and nodding as she passed by.

“You!”

Rio shouted sharply, stopping Ibi.

“Let’s talk.”

Rio’s face, which spoke so irritably, looked exactly like the current saint, Roble Tuha.

So Ibi hesitated for a moment, then nodded as if giving in.

At the same time, Sion was waiting for someone in the greenhouse of the flower garden.

Small birds living in the greenhouse chirped, and sunlight poured through the glass ceiling. This greenhouse was full of peace that seemed to deliberately ignore yesterday’s commotion.

So Sion thought it was truly laughable, and briefly recalled last night’s events.

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Last night in the hydrangea garden, Sion was secretly sympathizing.

With Ibi’s butler who had controlled the drinking of a young lady who was already an adult.

“Hmhmhm.”

Ibi, with her long hair hanging down like a ghost, laughed eerily once again. Ibi had been making Sion’s skin crawl by chuckling like that intermittently for a while now.

About half an hour ago, Ibi stubbornly swallowed a sip of wine. Then, as if the reins had come loose, she quickly drank up what was left in the glass.

When the glass was empty, Ibi slightly pushed it towards Sion, and Sion reflexively filled Ibi’s glass. Earlier she had complained about drinking straight from the bottle, but now it seemed that didn’t matter at all as Ibi gulped down that wine well.

After repeating that a few times and when Sion started to doubt Ibi’s alcohol tolerance, Ibi began to laugh by herself.

‘Is she drunk?’

“Hehe…”

‘She’s drunk.’

As expected of Ibi Ariate. Even when drunk, she doesn’t get drunk normally.

Ibi hugged her knees tightly and chuckled like that, alone with who knows what thoughts.

“Yeeees, before.”

Then she suddenly started heavy drunk talk.

“The mister said.”

That mister again…

“When you’re angry. Why. First think carefully about why you’re angry.”

At Ibi’s words, Sion flinched unknowingly and then quietly swallowed a sigh.

But Ibi, already tipsy, was completely oblivious to this and continued speaking clearly.

“So I thought about it. Why. Was I angry. At Cassel Montra.”

“It must be because of feeling betrayed.”

“What betrayal. I never trusted him in the first place?”

When Sion guessed, Ibi firmly denied it. Then she laughed gloomily again. With a strand of hair in her mouth, laughing like that was quite a sight.

“Then because you were toyed with?”

“No, no. Well, that’s true, but no. Honestly, I was really upset that everyone knew about my business except me, but that’s not the first reason.”

Then what is it?

Sion wondered why Ibi was drawing this out so much. So he waited, but Ibi didn’t continue.

…Surely she hasn’t fallen asleep after saying just this much.

Sion looked at Ibi with ominous eyes. Fortunately, Ibi wasn’t asleep, but was deep in thought with her chin resting on her knees.

“…Everyone should have at least one chance.”

After a long while, Ibi quietly opened her mouth.

“Because everyone has desperate times, right? So it’s okay to save someone for no reason, just once. Just once.”

Ibi spoke as if making excuses. Still hesitating, as if not fully convinced.

This sounded quite familiar to Sion. So he searched his memory and soon recalled. What Ibi had said on the last new moon night.

-Because it seemed fair that way.

-Just once, I was saved without any cost. So I thought it would be fair for other people to have something like this happen at least once too.

When asked why she broke the tower’s rules to purify the poison spreading in the village, Ibi had answered Sion like this.

At the time he thought it was just pretense, but looking back, that answer was Ibi’s uncompromising sincerity. Ibi really thought that way, without a shred of lie.

“But that person said it’s not okay. That if you save someone once, they keep clinging and begging.”

Ibi’s words continued without context, but Sion immediately understood their meaning.

He had received a report from Moren. Because of that incident, some nobles praised Ibi as a saint while others were displeased.

It seems Count Montra was among the latter. And it appears he made Ibi hear him say such things.

Sion swallowed the nausea driven by disgust.

Ibi had either finished what she wanted to say, or was now too bothered to continue, and buried her head deeply in her knees.

She looked precarious. And lonely.

But Sion couldn’t bring himself to reach out, and instead spoke emptily.

“Were you angry at those words?”

Ibi quietly answered, “Mm-hmm.” Then she added.

I was furiously angry that I’m the only desperate one, she said.

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“You were here first.”

A gentle voice broke Sion’s reverie.

Raising his head towards the voice, he saw a veiled woman.

The woman gracefully curtsied to Sion.

“May the blessings of the radiant morning be with you. It’s been a while, Count Laurel.”

That woman was the current saint who had disappeared from official appearances two years ago, Roble Tuha.