TCMGF 73

Chapter 73

Because of the people gathered in the drawing room, it didn’t feel like the capital, but rather like Vettra.

Ezekiel, Michele, Anna, and a bit of an unexpected variable—Lorenzo Spinelli.

“When I go to the palace to be received by His Majesty, I will then proceed as arranged to escort the Saintess.”

The ball was tomorrow. To escort her properly, they had to start moving quickly.

I wasn’t thrilled that as soon as we arrived in the capital, new obligations piled up before we’d even had time to greet each other properly. But there was no helping it; busy was busy.

Still, Ezekiel came up with a clever solution.

“How about you come with me?”
“Where would I be going?”
“To meet the Saintess. His Majesty didn’t say I had to go alone to escort her.”

…That meant I’d get more time by Ezekiel’s side?

I glanced at Michele, who looked so proud of his uncle, and then broke into a bright smile.

“Even while working, we can still be in the same space together. There’s no rule saying we must be apart.”
“That’s exactly it. Go together!”
“Enjoy your cozy little date!”

Even the servants chimed in with their support.

Ezekiel turned kindly toward Lorenzo, who was sitting in the corner of the sofa, and said with a gentle smile:

“You’ll need to prepare to escort my wife, won’t you?”
“Yes! The two of us will prepare together.”
“My wife will be accompanying me elsewhere, so just accept help from the servants in the meantime.”
“Th-then, without the Madam here, what should I prepare?”
“Your heart.”

Lorenzo let out a pitiful little sound.

“…Ah.”

With the household staff cheering us on, we headed for the Grand Church’s temple where the Saintess resided.

We rode comfortably in the carriage, seated side by side and holding hands. Unlike the dull, awkward rides in the past, the short trip to our destination now felt entirely different.

The temple in Vettra was grand, but the Grand Church here was on a whole other scale. Towering statues flanked the entrance like guards, and the spacious layout naturally overwhelmed visitors.

It was less a temple than a palace. At its heart was the chamber reserved for the woman revered as the “Saintess.”

“The Saintess is the servant chosen directly by the Lord. Naturally, she is given the finest chambers.”

That was where Monica Conte must be. The beloved of the world, the radiant heroine of the original story—the rightful protagonist.

Alongside my nervousness, curiosity bubbled up.

Having awakened her divine power and risen from the slums to the position of Saintess, how did she now see the world?

At last, the moment of meeting arrived. Lower-ranking priests opened the doors, and I followed behind Ezekiel, who was to escort the Saintess, as we entered.

Because of his broad back, I couldn’t see Monica at first. Tilting my head, I tried to catch a glimpse.

“Welcome.”

It was a voice I’d never heard before. Instinctively, I straightened my spine.

“Sir Ezekiel Vettra.”

The Saintess had black hair.

Monica was a mysterious-looking woman with dark hair and blue eyes, her aura difficult to read.

Black hair, blue eyes. Just as the original mentioned—exactly like Ezekiel.

Was this fate’s way of showing they were the heroine and hero meant for each other? Seeing them together made my heart stir uneasily.

Slowly braiding her hair with her fingers, Monica fixed her gaze on me, standing behind Ezekiel.

“This is my wife, Viola Vettra.”

Monica looked at me with curious interest.

“Hello.”
“You have a strange aura about you. It isn’t of this world.”

Goosebumps ran across my skin at her sudden words. Her ambiguous eyes stayed locked on me.

“Me?”

I pointed to myself just to be sure. Monica, who had looked half-dazed, startled suddenly.

“What did I just say? Forgive me. I only recently awakened my divine power, so I still can’t control it well.”
“What sort of power is it?”
“When I see someone, I can sometimes sense unusual energies around them. It’s just one of the many abilities I’ve been given.”

So her powers extended beyond healing into other, subtler senses.

“When I look at people, I can’t help but sense their aura first. The Duchess of Vettra is calm yet passionate. And… someone loves you deeply.”

Ezekiel glanced back at me.

“It isn’t a man. It’s a woman.”

…Could it be Her Highness, the Crown Princess?

“She’s a woman a little older than you. She continues to support you.”

The cryptic words of the Saintess came to an end as Monica herself broke them off.

“You’re fortunate.”

Fortunate… blessed. I was usually the one saying those things, not hearing them directed at me.

“I’ve lived alone, running the orphanage my parents left me. One day, while praying for a man struck by a carriage, God answered me.”

I hadn’t known Monica’s backstory. Perhaps it came up later in the novel—I had never read that far.

“I’ll be in your care tomorrow.”

Monica bowed politely to Ezekiel. She also turned to me with an apologetic expression, so I hastily bowed back, both of us fumbling.

“Take good care of her.”
“The Saintess?”
“You’ll be leading her debut among the nobility, won’t you? The aristocrats’ pride will be a real challenge. You’ll need to help her fit in.”

So when we left the temple, I reminded my husband firmly to look after Monica. I couldn’t help but feel concerned.

“Understood. That’s no problem.”

He took it lightly, though in truth his mind was elsewhere.

“What do you think that strange, foreign aura she felt from you could mean?”
“My aura is pure enough, isn’t it?”
“You’re impossible.”

But more than that, I couldn’t stop wondering—who was that “slightly older woman” supposedly supporting me? No one like that should exist in this world…

I put on earrings shaped like snowflakes made of white diamonds—perfect for winter.

Dressed in a white bell-line gown with my hair pinned up, Anna crowned me with a snowflake-shaped tiara.

She, Matilda, and the other maids stepped back to admire me.

“You look just like a bride.”
“Is this okay?”

If I were entering with Ezekiel, it would be fine. It felt almost like a reminder wedding, which was sweet. The problem was, my actual partner tonight would be Lorenzo Spinelli.

“Well, this year’s ball is special anyway—a winter palace ball combined with the Saintess’s debut. The dress code is black and white, so there’ll be plenty dressed like me.”

I held the banister and descended the stairs. My husband, in a black suit and black shirt, extended his hand to me.

“This reminds me of our wedding at the cathedral. You came to me then as well, in a pure white gown.”
“I was so dazed that day, I don’t even remember if I held your hand.”
“You did. I remember.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist.

“Goodbye, until the ball ends.”
“Don’t sulk without me.”

Michele, looking dashing in his bow tie with his hair swept back, watched us fondly before quickly wiping the smile off his face.

“What. I wasn’t smiling.”
“Of course.”

The winter palace ball of the Piemonti imperial family was famed for its dazzling beauty.

Passing through the Hall of Mirrors, which made the palace look like a glass castle, we entered the vast ballroom hidden within the palace.

The hosts of the evening were the imperial family. Unlike the mostly white-clad nobles, the Emperor, Empress, and Crown Princess wore black and gold as they sat at the place of honor, receiving greetings from the aristocrats.

“Your gown is beautiful. Like a single forget-me-not blossom.”
“Your Highness sees me every day and still says such things.”

As always, the Crown Princess praised me. Our bond had only grown stronger after so many long debates over The Prince.

“Lady Monica Conte, the Saintess!”

At last, after some time had passed, a solemn declaration rang out. And so the Saintess, beloved by all, made her first appearance before the nobility.