Thiendavis – For The Perfect Salvation

#Chapter 4: The Count Clumsy in Social Affairs
2022.06.13

“Should I check how much champagne the servants brought at such an early hour?”

The Count’s monologue was monotone.

Evie thought that it would have been better if he was angry.

Muttering leisurely with his mouth while glaring as if he wanted to devour her with his eyes was more unsettling.

“If only it could be confirmed, but can the servants truly remember everyone they handed a glass to…?”

“They’ll remember. It was still early evening.”

Evie tried to counter, but the Count’s reaction was still daunting.

Evie secretly clenched the hands resting on her knees.

‘Did he come all the way to make a fuss about it?’

It was understandable.

After embarrassing himself in front of so many people, he must have ground his teeth all night, running over at the crack of dawn.

Evie swallowed dryly, convinced of the Count’s malice.

She was preparing herself to endure the humiliation that would follow when suddenly the Count spoke in a nonchalant voice.

“But if you say so, I’ll believe it.”

The Count’s words were unexpectedly calm.

“I wasn’t accusing you. It’s just that I’m awkward socially.”

His tone suggested that yesterday’s events were irrelevant.

A tense Evie, surprised, looked up, only to become dazed at the sight of the Count leisurely sipping his tea.

Socially awkward, he said?

No, it was quite the opposite.

The Count was a man who could expertly toy with people.

“That was a topic worth suspicion. I’m only regretful towards you, Count. I apologize again for what happened yesterday.”

Evie sensed that the Count was toying with her, but she bowed again.

Pride was secondary to settling the incident from the previous day.

“As long as it wasn’t intentional. I’ll consider it an accident and move on to the main topic.”

“The main topic…? Do you mean you have another matter to discuss?”

“Indeed.”

The Count readily accepted Evie’s apology.

As he initiated another round of dialogue, Evie’s mind became busy again.

The main topic?

What could it be?

What would bring Zion Laurel all the way to Evie Ariate’s house?

Nothing immediately came to mind.

Unless forced…

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

The hypothesis that Diez had mocked suddenly resurfaced.

Even Evie had half-joked about it, now staring at the Count, half-doubtful about this new development.

It seemed overly optimistic, yet not entirely impossible.

Evie knew she was charming, and she had indeed dressed up yesterday.

Moreover, the Count’s reaction indicated that, despite being slightly pushed, he had been generous about the matter from yesterday, a very lenient gesture considering Evie’s mishap.

‘This must be a sign of affection!’

Quick to calculate and shift perspectives, Evie changed her thinking as swiftly as flipping a hand.

She spoke primly as if she’d never been tense.

“Could it be that the matter involves… you looking at me yesterday?”

Evie had intended to ask this, but the Count cut her off as if avenging himself.

“Why do you think I was looking at you?”

“Because you’re a socially awkward… deviant?”

Evie’s response elicited a brutal silence.

Both remained silent, yet their expressions differed drastically.

The Count glared at Evie with narrowed eyes, while Evie remained frozen, eyes wide open.

Only in her spirit screamed out loud.

A deviant—calling the Count a deviant!

In a panic, Evie considered laughing to diffuse the situation.

If she laughed foolishly, perhaps he might find it endearing?

No, perhaps she should bite her tongue and preserve her dignity by perishing gloriously.

Having entertained ridiculous thoughts, Evie hurriedly apologized to the Count, who was staring intensely at her.

“I’m sorry, I sometimes say absurd things…”

“It was excessively specific for mere nonsense.”

In response to the Count’s reprimand, Evie shut her eyes tightly.

She had no excuse.

Curse this wretched curse, this damnable curse.

As Evie lamented in silence, the Count sighed softly.

Then, as if unwilling to argue, he explained.

“It was for confirmation.”

“Pardon…?”

“I was confirming if you are the one I’m searching for, Evie Ariate.”

The Count summoned Evie, suggesting there was no misunderstanding.

He quietly observed Evie, who looked as clueless as a doll, daintily clasping her hands while seated.

Her straight hair, small, slender face, dark eyes shimmering, a shiny silk blouse, and a light purple skirt revealing her delicate shoulder line.

The Count, just as he did the day before, observed Evie intently and continued speaking calmly.

“I received a request to protect you.”

“What does that…”

“So, I shall take care of you from now on. As earnestly as possible.”

The Count’s sincerity seemed less genuine with his words.

Furthermore, his explanation remained insufficient.

As Evie remained confused, the Count belatedly added.

“I will ensure the life you desire. If you wish to live alone, then alone, or if you want to become a noble through adoption or marriage, I will arrange for you to enter the family of your choice. I’ll also provide you with anything you need afterwards. As I said before, earnestly.”

Although the Count’s voice remained monotone, the content was shocking.

Essentially, he was offering to become her guardian, promising to be responsible for her future like a sister or daughter.

Bewildered by this excessive offer, Evie neither welcomed nor rejected it and asked again.

“But why would you do such a thing for me? It’s too much…”

“I owe a debt to the person who requested it.”

“And who might that be?”

Evie truly had no clue.

She kept pondering upon hearing his words, but nothing stood out.

Someone who could request the Count to protect her?

And someone influential enough to put the Count in debt?

There was surely no such familiar and capable person in Evie’s past life.

That was why she had asked honestly, but the Count’s gaze narrowed once more.

He seemed to suppress his irritation as he evaded answering with an enigmatic reply.

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

To receive a request and claim not to know the requester bordered on nonsensical.

Evie began to suspect there might be a hidden secret about her birth.

Did she think she was a destitute orphan, only to discover late that she had extraordinary parents?

This possibility was also too conveniently optimistic.

Nonetheless, Evie couldn’t help but be slightly tempted.

If what the Count said was true, then Evie’s future indeed appeared rosy.

Any wrongdoing at the banquet yesterday would be swept away, and Evie’s precariously shaken position would solidify instead.

More importantly, the Grand Duke, who opposed Evie’s candidacy for Saintess, might change his mind due to his brother.

If that happened, the Saintess position would be practically hers, and the vexing curse would no longer be an issue.

‘Sounds good…’

Evie bit her lips to suppress a sly grin.

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

“However, there are conditions.”

“Please, tell me.”

“Abandon the idea of becoming a Saintess.”

In that instant, Evie’s surging joy abruptly halted.

“Saintess…?”

The Count nodded at Evie’s repetition, bringing Evie’s briefly uplifted spirits back down.

Why was there a condition to abandon becoming a Saintess?

Evie concealed her doubts and asked the Count.

“May I ask why?”

“What is your reason for wanting to become a Saintess?”

However, the impertinent Count responded to her question with another question.

As a reflex, Evie answered.

“I want to become someone who is difficult to deal with. For others… Being difficult means wanting to endure hardships. Dedicating oneself to the world and its people is the role of a Saintess, right?”

Surprised at her own genuine confession, Evie hastily covered it up, hoping the Count either didn’t catch it or chose to overlook it.

Nevertheless, the Count, without any awareness, asked.

“So, you desire hardships?”

“No, I’m sick of hardships. But regardless of how fed up I am, if everyone needs it, I am willing to endure it. Yes.”

“Who is this ‘everyone’?”

“I don’t know… Perhaps countless people I don’t know?”

As the questioning continued, the curse danced at the tip of Evie’s tongue.

The more she spoke, the more she felt nauseous.

Though initially thinking she could somewhat handle herself, Evie’s curse was more ruthless than anticipated.

Having exposed her cards with such rambling, a despondent Evie watched the Count closely.

Fortunately, the Count neither laughed nor scowled.

He continued observing Evie with sloping eyes.

“If you dislike hardships that much, spending your days as my ward would be better than becoming a Saintess.”

‘Damn it…’

At the Count’s unwarped voice, Evie swallowed a curse behind her solemn face.

This Count, claiming to be socially awkward, perceived Evie’s genuine intentions.

In this mess that seemed beyond rescue, Evie lowered her head in despair, and only then did the Count reveal his reasons.

“I asked you to give up the Saintess seat because, first, being affiliated with Manyanya Tower as a Saintess would be troublesome to my ability to intervene. Second, the obligation to visit Vis regularly as a Saintess makes it troublesome to protect you. Third, being an unprecedented plebeian Saintess, there are unpredictable threats you might face, this would be troublesome to bear.”

Unlike Evie’s blabbering, the Count’s reasoning was clear.

Having heard the word ‘troublesome’ three times, Evie smiled wryly with a face scorched red.

Yet it wasn’t over.

“And fourth, most important of all, it doesn’t suit you. Not at all.”

Zion Laurel was indeed clumsy in social affairs, for his words so effectively toppled another’s composure.

“I suppose you need time to think it over. I’ll hear your answer in four days.”

Leaving these words, the Count rose from his seat.

Evie Ariate merely nodded and smiled sweetly.

—

Zion Laurel returned to the Laurel residence after noon had passed.

“Where have you been since morning, all dressed up like that?”

As he entered the main hall, a low voice greeted him from the top of the stairs.

A man with black hair resembling the Count stood gripping the bannister there.

His half-brother, the Grand Duke of Laurel.

The Count ascended the stairs without a word, even at the sight of his brother.

“I heard about it. Something happened while I was away.”

However, the Grand Duke continued without concern, and instead, voiced his dissatisfaction about his brother’s affairs.

“I’ll send a protest letter to the Tower, ensuring Evie Ariate is confined until she can’t wander freely any longer…”

“Don’t.”

Suddenly, Zion stopped him.

Surprised by his brother’s firm voice, the Grand Duke halted his speech.

“What?”

“Leave her alone.”

Zion warned his confused brother again, passing him coldly.

The flustered Grand Duke called after Zion belatedly, but once again, he was ignored.

Zion Laurel detested everything about Thienda.

He vowed never to return of his own volition.

The reason he forced himself to return could be only one.

Evie Ariate.

A debt that must be repaid.

Navigating the halls with a cold expression, Zion unwittingly furrowed his brows.

Meeting Evie Ariate, delayed for so long, proved she was less intelligent than expected.

In the banquet, she seemed to feign sophistication, but then abruptly began to babble on about manners, breaking off his words irritably, slandering someone immediately by calling them a deviant, and then panicking, claiming it was accidental.

Zion was baffled how someone like her survived thus far in the harsh Thienda.

Still, there was no reason to know.

Nor did he want to know.

Since, after the debt was settled, it would be over.

Zion decided as such, dismissing Evie Ariate’s presence from his thoughts like a hangnail.

It was a little-known fact, but Zion Laurel had a significant debt.

And that debt, unwittingly ever-turning, had to be repaid to Evie Ariate.