Chapter 46
There was a ring inside the glass.
A signet ring that belonged to her—
a golden branch cradling an octagonal gem, with the name “Marianne” engraved lightly on the inside.
Marianne sucked in a sharp breath and looked around.
She hurriedly tilted the champagne glass and drank every last drop.
The ring slipped from her lips and fell into her palm.
It was unmistakably hers.
The sudden rush of exhilaration surged up her spine, and Marianne quickly bit down on her lip.
Thanks to that, she managed not to scream even when the champagne glass went pop! and turned into a folded note.
“‘Who would ever approach a divorcée like you sincerely?’
But you have eyes that can clearly see how you are being treated,
legs strong enough to walk away from situations that feel wrong,
and a mind capable of deciding the direction your life should take.You don’t need anyone else’s sincerity.
You already take yourself seriously.Di: Divorce—congratulations!
Vor: Wishing you a happy day on your own☆– Magic Saintess Sena 💫 –”
P.S. Today, keep it a secret that I was here!
Especially from that handsome blond man over there—absolutely no telling!
“Ah…!”
The Magic Saintess.
The one who punished evildoers and helped the unjustly wronged.
That Magic Saintess had helped her.
When she was drowning in despair, unable even to submit divorce papers—
she had been helped to reclaim the power to decide her own life.
By the Magic Saintess.
For her.
She wasn’t even divorced yet. Her husband hadn’t been punished either.
And yet, it felt like she’d received something even greater than that.
Overwhelmed with joy, Marianne covered her mouth—then suddenly widened her eyes.
‘But today…’
Wasn’t this the ball celebrating the appointment of the investigator assigned to the Magic Saintess?
She’d come to a place where the person hunting her was present—and still helped me?
And this was the imperial palace, no less?
‘My goodness!’
How bold.
Still covering her mouth, Marianne scanned the room.
There.
A blond imperial knight stood with a cold, unapproachable expression.
‘That must be the investigator assigned to the Magic Saintess.’
She’d overheard people talking about him earlier.
‘Such refined, elegant looks…’
‘Isn’t he only twenty-one?’
‘You can still see youth in his lips and cheeks—how adorable.’
‘He has such promise.’
…About eighty percent of it had been about his looks.
Even so, none of those people dared to approach him.
‘His expression is just too cold.’
That knight—radiating a clear do not approach aura—had been staring intently at one place all this time.
“Arden!”
It was a woman in a silver dress.
“Oh my goodness, the line for the restroom was ridiculously long!”
With her noticeably high voice and rapid speech, she trotted over—somehow reminding Marianne of a sparrow, despite looking nothing like one.
The moment the blond knight saw her, his expression softened.
Or rather—it shifted from blank to a slight frown.
To Marianne, it looked almost like a pout.
Like a skittish cat that fled from everyone else, but came right up to you and smacked you with its paws.
“Did I keep you waiting?”
“I waited an unbearably long time.”
He said that, yet lifted his hand as if he wanted to tuck a loose strand of her black hair behind her ear—only to flinch and pull back on his own.
“Madam!”
“Sir Chase?”
Marianne turned toward the voice.
It was Sir Chase, an imperial knight.
The man her husband had sneered at, saying, “He has no interest in you—he was just being polite.”
The man who had spent the entire day with another woman, exchanging not a single word with her.
Breathing heavily as if he’d rushed over, Chase spoke.
“That young woman earlier—she is my sister.”
“What?”
“The one I danced with earlier. My partner. She’s my younger sister.”
“Ah…”
“She hasn’t debuted in society yet, but she wanted to see the ball celebrating my appointment as investigator. I just escorted her out now that she’s seen everything.”
Uncharacteristically flustered, Chase rambled.
He took a sharp breath, then spoke quickly.
“The truth is, the person I truly wanted to dance with tonight was you, madam. …If your husband permits it.”
“No.”
Marianne replied calmly.
“My husband’s permission isn’t necessary.”
“I intend to divorce him.”
“What?”
“Yes. I’m getting divorced.”
“….”
“I won’t return to the Devotion family either. I’ll live by my own strength.”
So, Sir Chase—
“Would you cheer me on as I stand on my own?”
The soon-to-be divorcée Marianne and the young knight met each other’s gaze.
Chase’s stiff expression slowly softened.
“…Gladly.”
That wasn’t the answer of a gentleman accepting a lady’s dance.
It was the answer of a man in love, responding to a woman who asked him to watch her stand on her own.
“Such a good age.”
Youth—pure youth.
Watching Marianne and the imperial knight (probably Chase) head to the dance floor hand in hand, I muttered to myself.
Disguising myself as a servant to deliver the ring—once.
Passing along the note—twice.
Out of the three spells I was allowed today, I’d already used two.
‘It’ll be fine.’
Surely I won’t need to use magic again today?
Even if I do, I’ll try to solve it with brute force.
‘Seeing this, I kind of understand why the Magic Saintess from 950 years ago pursued dreams and love.’
Still—money is best.
♡☆♧ Everyone knows now, right? I’m completely jaded ♡☆♧
“Where are you looking, senior?”
“There.”
I pointed at Marianne and Chase.
Arden’s impression, seeing his fellow appointee dancing with the opposite sex, was—
“Sir Chase is five years younger than the countess.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. From this, we learn an important lesson: younger men are a hundred times better than older ones.”
“A lesson worth engraving in stone!”
I offered a half-hearted reaction and looked around.
“By the way—where did Cassian… I mean, the High Priest go?”
At my question, Arden instantly grew prickly.
“Why?”
“No reason. He just suddenly disappeared.”
“That man is one year older than you, senior.”
“Oh.”
Thank you for the completely unwanted information.
“Do you understand what that means?”
“That he’ll die thirty years earlier than me?”
“Precisely.”
“Ah, but.”
Something suddenly came to mind.
“I hear the sooner a husband dies, the better.”
“…Who says that?”
“The ladies at the tailor shop.”
They always gather at the teahouse saying things like that.
“By that logic, maybe a husband who’s just one year older is fine… Not that I’d ever marry the High Priest or anything…”
My voice trailed off.
Arden stopped me with a murderous glare and spoke slowly, deliberately.
“That is not true.”
“I’m not trying to ignore you, Arden, but… wouldn’t the customers know better than you?”
Because—
“You’ve never had a husband, after all…”
“….”
“If you have, I’m sorry…”
“….”
“….”
“….”
“Pfft!”
“Senior!”
“Okay, okay—sorry.”
Anyway.
Teasing him is fun.
“People are starting to dance. Let’s move aside.”
The dance floor was expanding, couples flowing closer to where we stood.
A man’s hand on a woman’s waist.
A woman’s hand on his shoulder.
Their other hands clasped together.
‘First of all, I don’t know how to dance.’
And even if I did, there’s no way Arden could handle that close of a position.
And honestly, getting that close to Arden would be kind of embarrassing for me too—
“Where are you going?”
“Huh? We’re leaving.”
I turned to him.
“We’re not dancing, right?”
“…We’re not?”
“Huh?”
Surely not.
I stared at Arden in shock—
And saw him nervously clenching and unclenching his fists.
His lashes fluttered.
Arden took off his gloves.
He rubbed his bare hands against his trousers, clearly nervous.
Then—
With trembling fingers, he held one out toward me.
“……”
“Senior.”
“Y-Yeah.”
“I practiced dancing beforehand…”
“……”
“Is it… not okay?”
