Chapter – 12
A Choice Without a Right Answer
The dress I’d worn for the audience was now soaked in blood — I had nothing else to wear.
It would be terribly disrespectful to appear before His Majesty like this, so I’d planned to decline the audience altogether.
—or at least, that was my excuse to escape.
“How about this, Lady Olivia? His Highness the Crown Prince had the royal tailor prepare these dresses for you in haste.”
The plump maid, Marsha, smiled warmly as she spread out several dresses before me.
Each one was more exquisite than anything I’d ever owned — delicate lace, intricate embroidery, and even gemstones sewn into the fabric. Any of them could probably buy a carriage or two. Terrifying.
Doing my best to keep my face from twitching, I managed a polite smile. “A-all of these… for me?”
“Yes. They were made based on the dress you were wearing, so the size should be perfect.”
Which meant they’d given that blood-soaked dress to the tailor. Just imagining their feelings made me want to cry from guilt.
“Which one will you be wearing, my lady?”
“Um, I… I couldn’t possibly wear such luxurious things—”
“Oh, but my lady! If you don’t wear them, all that effort would go to waste! His Highness would surely be disappointed.”
Marsha looked soft and motherly, but apparently that was only her outer shell. The atmosphere left me with no room to refuse.
“…Th-then, this one…”
I picked the least extravagant of the bunch. Marsha smiled brightly and began issuing brisk orders to the other maids.
Before I knew it, I was bathed, perfumed, made up, and dressed without a single moment to protest — and somehow ended up standing in the entrance hall of the Crown Prince’s residence.
The sheer speed and efficiency were overwhelming. Truly, royal maids were on another level.
“How did it come to this…”
I wanted to go home. Desperately.
I’d planned to cure the prince of his poison, then leave quietly. Never did I imagine I’d end up bedridden in the palace for five days — and now, being forced to attend an audience with the king.
As I sighed in despair, the Crown Prince descended the staircase, only to stop abruptly when his gaze fell upon me.
His starry-blue eyes widened in surprise. Was it really that bad a sight?
(Well, I suppose someone as scrawny as me could never pull off such a luxurious dress…)
“Your Highness! How long do you plan to stand there, staring like that?”
Marsha smacked him firmly on the back. The prince blinked and cleared his throat.
“S-sorry. You just looked… so beautiful, I couldn’t help it.”
I was genuinely impressed. For someone so young, he already knew how to flatter a lady. What a well-mannered boy, I thought — like a proud aunt watching her nephew grow up.
“Don’t be nervous, Olivia. I’ll protect you.”
He reached out gently and took my hand, giving me a dazzling smile.
“Your Highness…”
—I’m the one protecting you, but I can’t say that out loud.
“I told you, call me Noah. The dress suits you perfectly, Olivia.”
“…Thank you, Noah.”
Just saying his name made him beam with joy. That innocent smile — so youthful and pure — tugged at something in my chest. Probably just my maternal instincts. Yes, that must be it.
“Let’s go.”
With Noah escorting me, we entered the grand audience chamber.
On the throne sat a man whose regal presence was almost blinding.
That must be His Majesty Francis Arthur Igbern, King of Igbern.
He resembled Noah — black hair streaked with silver, and the same deep blue eyes. I could easily picture Noah growing into such a distinguished man.
Beside the king sat a breathtakingly beautiful woman in a crimson gown, a jeweled tiara resting on her head — Queen Eleanor.
In my previous life, she’d been the mother of my fiancé, the Second Prince… and a distant relative of my stepmother.
And most likely, the one who orchestrated Noah’s poisoning.
“Most likely,” because she never acted directly. My stepmother probably served as her pawn.
In the main story of the otome game “The Saint Who Saved the Kingdom,” the queen was never revealed as the true mastermind. Her crimes only came to light in the fan disc’s secret ending — which, unfortunately, I’d never played.
Yes. In my past life, I hadn’t gotten around to the fan disc. I remembered there being new capture targets in it, but the details were fuzzy. I’d planned to play it after finishing all routes in the main game.
Which meant there were still characters whose stories I didn’t know — another source of anxiety.
But for now, none of them were as dangerous as the woman before me.
“Welcome, Lady Olivia of House Arvine.”
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty. Your Majesty the Queen. I deeply apologize for the trouble I caused within the royal palace.”
I placed my hand over my chest and bowed deeply.
“Raise your head. You risked your life for the Crown Prince — we should be the ones thanking you. You saved my son.”
“Your words are far too kind, Your Majesty.”
When I lifted my head, I met the king’s warm smile.
(Good heavens. What a gorgeous older man.)
My heart clenched tighter than when I’d been poisoned.
In my previous life, I’d adored young, pretty boys in fiction, but in reality, my type had always been mature men — kings, dukes, butlers…
Noah was adorable, yes, but he was “cute nephew” material.
As for that smug brat of a god, Demiur — no matter how handsome he looked, all I felt was pure irritation.
“I’m glad, my son. You must have been worried sick while she was unconscious.”
“Yes, Father. I prayed to the Creator with all my heart.”
“Hahaha! Then it seems your prayers were heard. You must continue to worship the Creator faithfully.”
Listening to their exchange, I barely held back from muttering, “There’s no need to thank that bratty god.”
“What a miracle, indeed — a blessing from the Creator, perhaps.”
That sultry, honeyed voice sent a chill down my spine.
The queen was staring at me, eyes glinting like a predator sizing up its prey. A venomous serpent, beautiful but deadly.
“Could it be, Lady Olivia… that you are the prophesied Saint?”
Her lips curved into a poisonous smile.
A shiver ran down my whole body, and I nearly screamed, I’m the villainess!
A saint who can wield poison? Impossible.
But the king, oblivious to my inner turmoil, nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed, I was thinking the same.”
I wanted to faint right then and there.
“I do hope we can become friends, dear. I’ll invite you to one of my tea parties soon — you must come. I’ll introduce you to my younger son, the Second Prince. He’s the same age as you, you know… Lady Saint.”
The way she purred those last words made my blood run cold.
Her tea party? Who knew what kind of poison she’d serve there!
(Nope. Impossible. I’d die. Absolutely die.)
To make matters worse, the Second Prince was the man who, in my previous life, had publicly denounced and discarded me.
I could never forget that cold, disdainful look in his eyes. He ranked solidly in my personal “Top Three People I Never Want to See Again.”
Yet refusing a royal invitation without cause would be an act of disrespect. But accepting it meant certain death.
Either way, I was doomed.
An impossible choice — far too early in the story for something like this.
The original “Saint Who Saved the Kingdom” was never this hard.
So why had that bratty god promised my life would “go in a better direction”?
(What do I do now—!)
