Chapter 13: The Argument

Knock, knock, knock—

Solene irritably broke free from Sylvain’s embrace, hurriedly threw on her nightgown, and opened the door.

"What happened?" she asked.

The maid was prostrate on the floor in terror, her voice trembling: "The Saintess is injured!"

Solene frowned. "I’m not a doctor. What’s the use of finding me?"

Sylvain hugged Solene tightly from behind, deliberately rubbing against her while keeping his eyes fixed on her. Solene hadn't expected him to become so brazen. The maid was too scared to even lift her head, making Sylvain’s small provocations completely wasted on her. Solene’s hand clenching her collar tightened involuntarily; through the fabric, she could feel the place where Sylvain was pressing had sunken in.

"The Saintess said she hopes you will visit and see justice done for her." The maid kept her head buried low. Although she saw nothing, the sound of the friction was crystal clear.

"Ha. Tell her to wait a moment; say I’ll be there shortly." Solene closed the door, only to be immediately pressed against it by an impatient Sylvain as he forced his way in.

After a bout of passion, Solene’s entire body ached. She clenched her fists, doing her best to cooperate with Sylvain, her voice trembling slightly: "Hurry... I need to see Sue."

Sylvain lightly traced the words "Alright" on her abdomen, then pressed her back and held her down. Solene closed her eyes, biting her finger to endure it.

After dressing, Solene steadied herself and walked out. She hadn't had time to wash properly, only giving herself a quick wipe, and she still felt sticky.

"Dana, why won't you believe me? I only lightly brushed her hand away; I didn't push. She fell onto the broken wine glass herself. How could I do such a thing?" The maid speaking was still kneeling on the spot, surrounded by a group of attendants who formed a barrier in front of the nobles.

She seemed to have found the courage from nowhere to speak so insolently; one must remember that in the eyes of the nobility, whether they were attendants, guards, or maids, they were all servants. The only difference was that the former had fixed duties, while the latter had to be on standby at all times to follow their master’s whims.

Solene couldn't help but sigh at such stupidity. She stepped forward quickly, standing beside Sue, and asked sternly, "What is your name?"

Faced with Solene’s interrogation, the kneeling maid was clearly startled. Her eyes reddened instantly, and she looked up at Solene with hope, answering with a sob: "My name is Belle Rosier."

"Belle?" Solene tilted her head slightly, scrutinizing her for a moment before turning to Sue with a mocking tone. "I thought it was some great figure, daring to address 'you, me, and him' so casually. Dana, your temper is truly too kind. And Sue, as the Saintess, you cannot always be this benevolent and easy to talk to; otherwise, people will only insult you again and again."

Belle trembled, shaking her head repeatedly while her gaze remained locked on Dana. Dana’s brow furrowed as he said deeply, "You have indeed been too forward."

Solene laughed into her hand, her eyes full of mockery. "She couldn't be your lover, could she? I knew I didn't see it wrong; otherwise, how would she dare be so rude to the Saintess?"

Belle roared in denial: "No! No, I am not his lover!"

Dana leaned down to interrupt her, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness. "Countess Solene truly has a keen eye; she is indeed my lover. However, we simply enjoy playing these little games; I hope you can overlook it. I will take full responsibility for the Saintess's injuries and provide compensation."

"No, Dana, you can't do this! No, it’s not like that! I don't want to be your lover!" Sue was forcibly led away, her clothes disheveled and her expression dazed.

Solene gave a light laugh and said, "Since the Saintess is injured, it seems she must recuperate here with Earl Dana for a while."

Suddenly, a surge of magic rushed into Sue’s body, causing her to abruptly cough up a mouthful of blood. Solene feigned alarm as she supported her, leading her to the doctor’s side.

The doctor sighed and said, "The Saintess has suffered a relapse of an old condition; it seems she was given a fright."

Dana’s brow tightened. "An old condition?"

Sue shook her head gently, saying apologetically, "I’m sorry for scaring everyone. It’s an old ailment; I’ve had it for several years now." Her eyes cast downward, appearing both fragile and gentle.

Sylvain stood to the side, his brow furrowed, observing everything with a sharp gaze. He didn't believe Solene would do anything meaningless, yet he couldn't fathom her true intentions.

After comforting Sue, Solene strolled alone through Earl Dana’s manor, which was decorated everywhere with pure, white roses. It perfectly reflected Dana’s taste—a preference for innocence and kindness.

"Belle, you were too reckless!" Dana’s voice drifted over.

"Dana, I love you so much. You once said I was the only white rose in your heart, your only wife," Belle responded.

"I love you; 'lover' is just a title. If I hadn't said that just now, that madwoman Solene would never have let it go," Dana argued.

"How am I supposed to believe you? The way you looked at that Saintess..." Belle questioned.

"So, you

did

push her? Sue is a good girl; she once saved my life. You don't need to target her; there is truly nothing between us," Dana explained.

"Dana, I didn't push her! Why won't you just believe me!" Belle cried out.

"Enough, Belle. Go and rest for now." Dana appeared somewhat impatient.

A butterfly landed lightly on a white rose. Solene approached quietly, taking every word of the conversation to heart. A slight smile touched her lips as she thought:

Earl Dana, you aren't invulnerable either.

Solene planned to dismantle these nobles step by step, making Earl Dana—this hypocrite who moved himself with his own act—offer everything to the Church. He was born a commoner, yet after becoming a noble, he oppressed his former kind with a clear conscience, then took the money gained from that oppression to donate to the Church and orphanages, masquerading as a man of benevolence.

The butterfly took flight from Solene’s fingertip, scattering into the wind. Not far away, Sylvain watched Solene’s lonely silhouette in silence. The nobles all called her a madwoman, yet none knew her true intent—that was the most terrifying part. The nobles could only rack their brains for ways to eliminate her.

Ian didn't want to be drawn into this strife; he didn't want to lose his companions in a fight against her. After all, aside from the nobility, most people's lives were quite decent; perhaps such a revolutionary system was the best choice.

"Ian!" A call came from a guard behind him. A girl hit him hard on the head. "I told you, don't use that name!"

"Let’s just go back to the Lowlands; the work here is too tiring," one girl sighed.

"By the way, I heard Countess Solene came from the Lowlands. She’s amazing!" the girl next to her added.

"Do you think Ian can even leave? Being chosen as a lover by such a beautiful Countess, wow~" a boy nearby teased.

The girl beside him frowned. "Sylvain, come with me for a second." Sylvain nodded and followed her to a corner.

A butterfly landed on the fence. Sylvain touched its wing gently to shoo it away. The butterfly slowly flew back to its master’s hand.

Solene gave a light laugh; the people of the Lowlands didn't even know the Emperor’s name was Ian. In the eyes of the nobility, the lives of Lowlanders were like grass, worth less than a leg of lamb.

"Sylvain, I saw everything. Are you and Solene really together?" The head maid Shirley’s voice was trembling.

"Shirley, you shouldn't have come. It’ll be trouble if you’re discovered." Sylvain’s voice was calm and cold.

"I love you." Shirley’s eyes were red, her silver hair shimmering in the moonlight. Her blue eyes were like stars, but Sylvain looked right through her.

"Shirley, your magical talent is outstanding and your future is bright. There’s no need to entangle yourself with me. I don't love you." Sylvain’s words were colder than the moonlight.

Shirley shook her head, tears sliding down her nose. "I love you. I will stay by your side until you notice me."

Sylvain simply turned and left, leaving Shirley with trembling hands and falling tears.

When Sylvain returned to his room, he passed through the flower garden and happened to encounter Solene sitting leisurely on a swing. She smiled and beckoned to him. "Come over and help me push the swing. I’ve been ringing the bell for ages, but no one answered. Where did all the maids and servants go? Surely they aren't all chatting together."

She gave a brilliant smile. Sylvain obediently approached and gently pushed the swing.

"What a familiar feeling. It’s a pity my own manor doesn't have a swing yet. Every time I say I'll put one in, I forget all about it." Solene turned her head, looking at Sylvain with a tender gaze.

It felt as though everything had returned to how it was before. For a moment, Sylvain lost himself and nearly spoke, but he quickly recovered, nodding slightly in response.

Solene’s lips curved upward as she whispered, "Come here."

Sylvain leaned in, and Solene quickly pressed a kiss to his lips, nibbling gently on them as they held each other close. The moonlight was enchanting.

At that moment, Shirley, standing on the high balcony behind them, stared with wide eyes, her face full of disbelief. The candlestick in her hand trembled. Solene caught sight of her silhouette out of the corner of her eye and a smile touched her lips.

She gripped Sylvain firmly below, her voice low and enticing: "Sylvain, let’s continue what we didn't finish earlier today. Truthfully, I’ve been waiting for you here." Her voice was like a siren’s song, intoxicating.

The sound of the candlestick crashing to the ground was deafening. Sylvain jerked his head back, but the window of the tall building was empty. Solene applied light pressure; Sylvain’s ears turned red, and he looked down at her with a furrowed brow.

"Carry me back to my room."

That night, a golden butterfly landed quietly on Belle’s windowsill. It slipped through the crack in the window, landed gently on Belle’s forehead, and settled down peacefully.

Belle was immersed in a dream. In the dream, Dana was about to marry the Saintess, while she had been reduced to a mistress who could never see the light of day. Dana pointed at her nose, saying coldly, "You are just a lowly commoner. Being my mistress is already a great blessing that keeps you fed and clothed. What more are you dissatisfied with that you have to make such a fuss?"

She fell prostrate on the ground, weeping bitterly, pleading with Dana not to leave her, not to betray their past vows. Even worse, Dana actually wanted to take her blood to treat Sue’s old ailment, slowly eroding her body.

She gave a cry of agony and suddenly jolted awake from the nightmare. The butterfly was gone. Only Belle remained, sobbing silently in her bed.

Just then, a golden butterfly suddenly appeared at her bedside.

"Do you need help?" A sudden voice gave Belle a violent start.

"Who are you?" she asked in terror.

"I can make Dana yours forever," the voice said.

"Go away!" At the mention of Dana’s name, Belle became dazed, grabbing her pillow and wildly trying to drive the butterfly away.

The butterfly left behind one sentence: "When you need me, just call for the butterfly while you are here alone, and I will appear."

Belle stood frozen. The nightmare from moments ago left her with lingering fear, and she didn't dare fall back asleep. She sat huddled on her bed, clutching her pillow, spending a long and painful night in solitude.