Chapter 12
He’s the Villain, but Also a Bunny (7)
‘Looks like they’ve gotten themselves into a bind because of handing over the mine.’
Ilena gave a sideways glance at the bespectacled aide trying not to meet her eyes, then turned to look at Andre, who was also nervously watching her.
More precisely, she looked at his outfit, which had caught her eye from the first time they met.
The noble noblesse oblige flowing in the blood of a third-generation chaebol flared up.
In her whole life, she had only ever helped others—never caused harm.
‘Losing money? Me?’
That absurd idea was a first. For her, money was always something to be earned, never lost.
“You’re saying the North is trying to raise the price of silk?”
Ilena casually spoke.
The men, who had been watching her warily, all flinched at once.
They probably thought she was confronting them for badmouthing her behind her back.
“W-Well…”
Even the Black King stuttered, which didn’t quite suit him.
‘Is he not used to these kinds of subtle power games? Ah, well. That makes sense.’
Ilena looked at his massive build and quickly understood.
‘Even people with anger issues would manage their temper in front of those arms.’
“S-Saintess, it’s not your fault at all! The Northern bastards are just greedy pigs by nature, and—ah.”
Andre hurriedly shut his mouth, realizing too late that Ilena was also from the North.
“….”
“….”
“….”
Whoosh—
An awkward breeze passed through the office once again.
“That outfit.”
Ilena pointed at Andre’s clothes with a calm voice.
“Eh? Huh?”
Caught off guard by the sudden comment, Andre fumbled at his clothing.
It was a fabric she had never seen in the North before.
A thin, slightly sheer material.
In Korean fashion terms, it would be called “see-through” fabric.
“That fabric—I’ve never seen it in the North. Is it a traditional material from the South?”
Ilena asked in a curious tone, and the man known as Minister Auter looked flustered.
“F-Fabric? I wouldn’t really know about that…”
“Oh, right!”
Andre quickly interjected.
“Your Majesty and Minister Auter wouldn’t really know women’s fashion. This fabric is produced by the Sru people, a minority group in the South. It’s been gaining popularity lately among women who want to highlight their allure.”
‘So it’s a trend that just started in the South.’
Andre, with his keen interest in fashion, would probably be called a “fashionista” or “early adopter” in Korean terms.
Ilena nodded.
Even better if it was still in the early stages of the trend.
The sheer fabric was beautiful in color, and the desire to emphasize allure was the same for both Southern and Northern women.
The island’s tropical climate made people more tolerant of revealing clothes, and the fabric itself was breezy and cool—two birds with one stone.
It had market potential.
Her grandfather used to say:
“There’s always money to be made. Just keep your eyes wide open—what you need then is timing and the courage to act.”
She’d grown up on that kind of philosophy.
Rotten or not, a croaker is still a croaker. They say even a ruined rich family can last three generations.
True to her background as a former third-generation chaebol, she saw business opportunities naturally, even in a state of apathy.
Ilena spoke calmly.
“If you brand the Sru fabric as a premium product—what’s the word—”
She paused briefly, searching for the right expression.
“Market it as a luxury good for nobles. Raise the price, then sell it at high cost in other regions. Make sure the production method stays secret.”
“Ah… Indeed. Certainly.”
The bespectacled aide, not as dumb as he seemed, snapped out of his daze and murmured thoughtfully.
“Silk isn’t well-suited for hot climates. It doesn’t breathe and doesn’t absorb sweat well… If this fabric could replace silk—it would generate a fortune.”
Now excited, the once-embarrassed aide completely dropped his flustered demeanor.
Ilena remained composed.
“You’ll at least recover the cost of the small mine you supposedly paid for me.”
This was a surefire business.
Ilena was confident.
Her experience running a global fashion brand told her so.
After all, they had basically been scammed in a secondhand trade.
‘They paid a fortune for a broken product, so this is the least I can do.’
“When did you even come up with all this…?”
The Black King looked at her with rare surprise.
On the other hand, the bespectacled aide was back to squinting suspiciously.
“Why are you telling us this? It doesn’t benefit the North at all!”
Probably still feeling guilty about the badmouthing earlier.
Ilena didn’t mind.
She had a naturally big heart and was used to gossip, whether behind or in front of her back.
The only reason she was doing this was—
‘Because Andre’s been so kind to me.’
That kind of attention was truly a first in her life.
Someone asking if she had eaten, if she had slept well, or how she was feeling—
It was like being wrapped in a warm blanket.
‘It really felt like I’d become the Ilena from Ilena of the Happy Island.’
After staring at Andre for a moment, Ilena spoke nonchalantly.
“I just picked up the idea Andre dropped. He was a big help.”
Picked it up on the way here.
As if she were talking about finding a random piece of chocolate, not suggesting a national-level business plan.
“S-Saintess…”
Andre looked ready to cry, deeply moved.
And he wasn’t the only one looking at her differently.
‘The Saintess… I knew she was extraordinary, but this much…’
The Black King stared at her with a complex expression.
‘Tired.’
But Ilena, mentally drained, didn’t notice.
Her depression seemed to have eased slightly, but expecting a full recovery without meds in such a short time was unrealistic.
It was a case of severe depression that had lasted for two whole years.
Her brain still felt like it was underwater.
“If today’s torment session is over, may I return to my room?”
“…Go ahead.”
As soon as the Black King gave permission, she turned and left the office without a backward glance.
“She said… the cookies were good.”
Iago only bit into the leftover strawberry jam cookie on the table after the guests had all left.
He had baked them last night.
He liked baking. It cleared his mind and brought peace to his heart.
Even better if someone enjoyed what he made.
Just moments ago—
He remembered those small lips chewing the cookie, and it made him happy.
It was strange.
These days, just thinking about that fluttering light-blue hair or those unreadable honey-lemon eyes made his chest feel unsettled.
“I guess you just feel good when you think about something pretty.”
Iago murmured as he chewed the cookie.
She really was beautiful.
And what sharp eyes she had—talking about fabric of all things.
Because of the abundance of minerals, the kingdom of Rihue had never cared much for other industries.
They were too busy fending off invaders who wanted their mines and never lacked wealth.
Even the hard-nosed Auter had grudgingly acknowledged her—“she’s not bad.”
“Amazing… I’m jealous.”
Only a tiger recognizes another tiger.
With his sensitive instincts and keen eye, he had sensed it—
That fragile-looking, beautiful Saintess was actually a tiger with hidden claws.
He didn’t know why she was hiding them beneath such lethargy…
But in any situation, she was unshakable.
She grasped the root of a problem and gave a solution immediately.
She had a natural charisma that drew people to her.
“…Just like Father.”
Iago whispered.
The great former king of Rihue. His father had been just like that.
As he mumbled to himself, the puppy sleeping under the desk came over and licked his face.
It was a pup he had rescued on a scorching day, unable to ignore its panting.
He had even snuck it in secretly, worried that saving a dog wouldn’t suit the image of the “Black King of the Desert.”
“Haha. That tickles… Are you… comforting me?”
His whisper was soft—shockingly gentle.
Iago buried his face into the puppy’s neck.
Born to lead, just like his father and his crown prince brother.
The Saintess was clearly the same.
She must be faking her lethargy in the South to control the climate more effectively.
“Ah… So warm…”
Hugging the big puppy tightly, he stroked its soft fur.
Then whispered very, very quietly—
Dogs don’t understand human speech, after all.
They wouldn’t go telling people what the Black King had said.
“Victor… Today was rough again.”
He remembered that slap from earlier. Tears he had held back welled up all at once.
‘It must’ve hurt like hell. I hit her hard. I was careful not to leave a mark, but still…’
The sensitive pup whimpered, sensing his unease.
Iago leaned against the pup, gently patting its neck.
“I’m okay, Victor. I’m fine. I’m the Black King of this kingdom.”
So he couldn’t cry.
Emotions were weakness. And weakness was unacceptable.
“S-Saintess, back there… You said all that for my sake, didn’t you?”
As soon as they returned to the room, Andre looked at her with teary eyes that didn’t match his large frame.
Oh no. She had too naturally made him “her person.”
Ilena awkwardly lowered her gaze.
