Tiendavis - For Perfect Salvation - Chapter 60

“I think it would be better to be jealous instead.”

Not wanting to argue much, but finding it absurd as he listened, Sion unwittingly opened his mouth.

“Rather than being obsequious and irresponsible.”

“Obsequious… you say?”

“Setting aside the fact that Ibi Ariate is a person, not a bird, isn’t it obsequious and irresponsible for you, also a saint, to speak of the next saint’s salvation?”

Sion’s words, spoken while enduring annoyance, were only polite in form, but their content and tone were worse than informal speech.

At this, the saint’s veil wavered momentarily. The saint, who had never been faulted for her conduct and behavior, seemed greatly flustered by this direct speech.

But that was only for a moment; the saint, the symbol of the noble tower, soon regained her composure and said,

“I understand why you speak this way, Count. This too is my fault for not fully explaining our circumstances…”

“I’m not interested in the tower’s circumstances.”

But Sion cut off the saint’s words without even listening to the end.

“Regardless of the tower’s inner workings, isn’t it the same that you’ve postponed your own duty?”

The saint neither denied nor made excuses.

However, Sion did not think that he had silenced the saint with his sharp observation. The saint was merely silent out of obligation to be humble before a high noble, and was probably venting all sorts of rebuttals inwardly.

So Sion forcibly softened his tone.

“I won’t be angry, so if you have something to say, say it. If you lack the courage to speak, you may leave now.”

At the emperor’s mercy, the saint’s shoulders visibly rose and fell.

Sion thought the saint would leave at this point. But surprisingly, the saint stood her ground and opened her mouth again.

“…Your words are not wrong, Count. I just want to say that I am different from Ariate. How could a lowly person like me be the same as one blessed by God?”

“Your position is not so low to excuse yourself as lowly, Saint.”

But the count remained stubborn to the end, and at this harsh attitude, Saint Roble quietly bit her lower lip.

Roble had heard that Count Laurel loved Ariate clumsily, unable to do this or that.

So she had come forward just in case, but as expected, a high noble was a high noble. Sion Laurel was as cold-blooded as Rohika Sedro.

So Roble helplessly put away the courage she had mustered. Then she inwardly resented that cruel count.

To say I’m obsequious and irresponsible, how can he utter such cruel words without knowing what I’ve been through? Is it truly wrong for a powerless person to place hope in another special one?

I only wish for Ariate to become a saint, I only want to escape this yoke, I only hope not to be scorned by my precious younger sister.

Roble struggled to gather her thoughts to endure the count’s blatant criticism.

‘Was he this kind of person?’

And Sion, the ruthless count who tormented the fragile saint, was feeling considerable disillusionment with this situation.

Because Ibi doubted the saint, Sion was also secretly curious about what kind of inner thoughts the saint had.

So as he listened carefully to what the saint was saying, he unexpectedly regained his filial piety. He came to reevaluate his father, who had passed away unpleasantly.

The late Grand Duke Laurel was the worst parent who thoroughly exploited his children, but at least he risked his life at the end. Putting aside that it was the most foolish thing in the world, he had done all he could for his responsibility and duty.

But what kind of privileged talk was this Roble Tuha making from the flower garden inside the fence?

If the saint had met Marquis Montra yesterday, and perhaps even advised that fellow’s fickle whims, Sion would have lent an ear to the saint’s words today.

But yesterday the saint didn’t show even a single strand of hair. And now she came here to ask the grand duke for persuasion, which left Sion dumbfounded.

So rather than interfering with the willful Marquis Montra and being humiliated, she judged it safer and nobler to ask the count who had lost his mind over Ibi Ariate to let go of the girl he loved.

Sion found it funny that he was considered more approachable than Marquis Montra, and truly funny that such a robust saint spoke of the tower’s salvation.

After preserving her position to the best of her ability all this time, it was too late to confess that her heart was not at ease.

The saint who had always been fine like that pointed to Ibi Ariate, who had never been fine even once, as the savior, so the very nature of the salvation this saint desired was questionable.

“Thank you for enlightening me on what I didn’t know. I will deeply engrave your teachings, Count.”

As expected, the saint backed out after a silence. She seemed to have judged that there was nothing to gain by going further.

It was the expected outcome, but it felt somewhat anticlimactic. So as Sion searched for the cause, he recalled the indomitable Ibi and swallowed a sigh.

Ibi probably would have retorted, saying how could you say that when you’re in the highest position? Fortunately, the saint wasn’t so clueless.

“I too am grateful for your understanding, Saint.”

Sion reciprocated the saint’s submission and concluded the meeting with appropriate words.

Afterwards, he escaped from the stuffy greenhouse, but his mood was still low.

Indeed, this world is not perfect.

Yet it is so entangled and has detailed reasons for everything from start to finish.

Like a vicious pile of causality that collapses with the slightest touch.

So the monster that cannot be touched carelessly rolls on, slicing and crushing countless lives.

Without any remorse, truly shamelessly.

And humans diligently find their place within it. Those who are helplessly sliced, those who actively enjoy it, and those who pretend to be uninvolved while taking the crumbs.

The saint, who was merely cowardly without any sharp edges, belonged to the last category. A kind-hearted bystander.

They generally believe themselves to be innocent. They even pretend to be ashamed when confronted with buried facts. But that’s all; they easily comfort themselves with words of inevitability.

So Sion decided to thoroughly dislike that kind saint on behalf of those who defend each other’s weaknesses.

Indeed, he despised everything about Tienda.

He’s in a bad mood.

He’s been in Tienda for too long.

The root cause of this situation is Ibi Ariate.

Sion returned to his room, grinding his teeth at Ibi for entirely justifiable reasons.

“Hello, Count.”

And there he met Ibi, without any schedule or notice.

When Sion looked at her as if to say ‘why are you here?’, already in an unpleasant mood, Ibi answered diligently.

“I came through the secret passage.”

“…You look like it.”

“Did you meet the Saint well?”

“Not really.”

“Yes, you look like it too, Count.”

Ibi threw Sion’s words right back at him and laughed. Meanwhile, she skillfully avoided Sion’s glare, which was burning with anger.

Ibi, who had been hiding behind the curtain in case someone else came in, slid out and sat on the sofa. Then she urged Sion, who had only half-removed his outer garments.

When Sion reluctantly came and sat down, Ibi asked with sparkling eyes.

“How did it go?”

The fact that this sight made Sion inexplicably upset was evidence of his bad personality.

A person with an ordinarily kind nature would consider how important this matter was to Ibi, but Sion, who didn’t like consideration or concession, first recalled the events of early this morning.

This dawn, he had to wander around the Tuha family’s villa, avoiding people’s eyes, to escort the trembling, sleeping Ibi to her room.

After laying her down so nicely, the one who fell asleep outdoors and woke up in the bedroom should at least ask how this happened, but that Ibi Ariate had completely forgotten about last night’s events.

Sion Laurel was a person who found greetings bothersome, but this was quite vexing, so he deliberately asked.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me before that?”

“Infinitely many things.”

Infinitely?

At this unexpected answer, Sion looked at Ibi. Then Ibi blinked and hurriedly avoided his gaze.

Sion’s eyes, which had widened momentarily at her uncharacteristically flustered appearance, narrowed again.

‘…She was pretending not to know.’

Deceiving is her job, truly.

Ibi, who was struggling under Sion’s narrowed gaze, slapped the sofa.

“Please focus on what we were saying!”

Whether due to embarrassment or pride, Ibi got unnecessarily angry, and Sion found this quite funny, but pretended not to as he put his finger to his lips. Then he nodded towards the door. It meant to lower her voice because there were watchers waiting outside.

Ibi shut her mouth with a start, then glared at Sion with a somehow indignant face. So conversely, Sion decided to forgive Ibi’s vexation.

After a round of bickering, Ibi cleared her throat and asked again.

“So how did it go? Does the Saint know about my curse?”

“No, she knows nothing at all.”

“…Really?”

“To begin with, she was someone who knew nothing in that area.”

She was not only incapable of placing curses, but rather your devotee. Sion was about to say this but held back.

And Ibi quietly put her hand to her forehead at the situation that had returned to square one.

Then she glanced up at Sion again.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“I’m suspicious that you might be lying.”

With that one line, Ibi made Sion angry and then fell back into deep thought.

Ibi was quietly desperate today as well. So Sion watched her and became troubled in turn.

Thinking of Rohika Sedro’s temper, he could guess why Ibi was so obsessed with the saint’s position.

So he understood her desperation, but he wished she would tone it down a bit.

I can’t say anything and you don’t trust anyone, so in the end all I can do is keep you locked up so you can’t struggle more, but if you’re that indomitable, it will be uncomfortable for both of us.

Then we won’t be able to sit face to face like this.

“Thank you. We’re back to square one, but at least it’s been confirmed.”

Ibi calmly collected herself and thanked him. Then she continued as clearly as before.

“Now it’s my turn to help you, Count, right?”

What about yesterday?

Sion was about to bring it up but didn’t want to seem like he was trying to take credit, so he held back.

Anyway, she said she had infinitely many things to say, so I’ll probably hear about it if I listen slowly.

As Sion nodded thinking this, Ibi said with a more nonchalant face than usual.

“The secret you told me to find out is something no one but you knows, right? If anyone else knew, you would have already dragged them around and made them confess.”

Sion nodded again at Ibi’s conjecture.

“And it’s because you can’t solve it alone that you told me to find out.”

Again, Ibi hit the mark.

“But such a big matter can’t be unknown to everyone. It’s normal for other people to discover signs or traces too. So perhaps you, Count…”

However, today the introduction was unusually long. Unlike usual when she would bluntly throw out the conclusion and startle people.

So Sion looked at Ibi, wondering what she was trying to say.

Then Ibi suddenly avoided his gaze. Her face was still nonchalant, but Sion sensed a strange stiffness there.

When Sion’s intuition stirred, Ibi asked this with her gaze fixed on the floor.

“Count, do you know about things that will happen later, the future?”