The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 131: The Hidden Saintess

Chapter 131: The Hidden Saintess

The soft, warm rays of spring’s gentle sun slowly infiltrated the tranquil room, revealing the delicate dance of tiny dust particles suspended in the calm morning air. Angelica’s wide, azure eyes remained fixed upon the sturdy wooden rocking chair positioned beside the towering open window. The chair swayed gently in response to the cool, invigorating morning breeze, as though an invisible presence occupied it.

In the wake of the unfortunate incident that marred her birthday celebration, it took the princess a painstaking four days to finally regain consciousness. Now, as she found herself rousing from her prolonged slumber, an overwhelming sense of bewilderment and disorientation enveloped her.

’I still cannot comprehend it... What on earth has happened within me?’

The root of Angelica’s bewilderment lay in its simplicity. Upon awakening from her four-day slumber, the young girl experienced an extraordinary sense of vitality and well-being, as though the twenty-two years of her life marked by fragility and illness had been erased from existence. It was as if she had been reborn.

’Could it be the shock of it all? The near-death encounter that brought about this bizarre transformation?’

The sensation of rebirth was not the sole source of perplexity in Angelica’s mind. When she plunged into the water and collided with its surface, the princess succumbed to unconsciousness, shrouded in an enigmatic fog of confusion. However, the instant Rosalie made contact with her, self-awareness rushed back like a tide. Yet, this resurrected consciousness did not belong entirely to Angelica.

In that very moment, she felt the presence of another soul within her own existence, and that presence was none other than Ayana, the mother she had never known – a mother now inhabiting her very being.

’I witnessed it all, every last particle of lost hope, devastation, sorrow, and grief. I saw how she concealed her entire existence, how she battled, how she lived in constant fear...’

The revelation that unfolded as the princess descended deeper into the water was not merely shocking; it was profoundly tragic. Empress Ayana, the Hidden Saintess whom the entire continent fervently sought, had chosen a life of profound secrecy and solitary suffering.

’She did not want to be worshipped. She did not want to be looked up to. She did not want to be the means of justifying all that bloodshed that was going on across the continent. And she did not want me to go through the same suffering she did.’

While utterly perplexed by such a bizarre experience, somehow, Angelica managed to find a surprising sense of clarity in her connection with her mother, a peace that seemed as innate as the act of drawing breath.

However, amidst this newfound understanding, a solitary concern lingered most in the princess’s thoughts, and it centered on her beloved friend, Rosalie.

’I sensed it too. The sinister energy coursing within her, the borrowed power... The very grasp of a demon that has ensnared her soul.’

The very notion of her dearest friend bartering her soul to a demon sent blood-chilling tremors through Angelica’s being. She held unwavering conviction in her assessment—despite her half-dazed state during the incident, she unmistakably perceived the surge of infernal potency coursing within Rosalie. Moreover, she could discern the ominous voices beckoning to her from the abyss.

Indeed, Rosalie had undeniably harnessed the might of a demon. Yet, the perplexing question loomed: Why would she undertake such an audacious pact?

’Could it be because of Damien? But it is not quite the same. Damien still retains ownership of his soul, whereas Rosalie’s soul is now captured by the demon. Perhaps I should confide in someone about this. Perhaps I need to delve deeper into this matter... Because if my instincts prove accurate, Rosalie’s life could be hanging by a thread within the Empire.’

With newfound determination to shield her friend from imminent harm, Angelica swiftly prepared herself and issued commands to her attendants to ready a carriage. She yearned for answers, and in her quest, the Holy Temple beckoned as the most promising destination.

As she journeyed towards the Temple, the very place that had been her home for countless years and the final sanctuary for her late mother, Angelica reclined in the opulent seat of the resplendent white carriage, its golden adornments shimmering under the bright sunlight. Her contemplative musings quickened, spurred on by mounting anxiety.

’Revered Altair has been overseeing Rosalie’s well-being for a considerable duration. Could he genuinely remain oblivious to the unfolding situation? Given their regular interactions and the exchange of powers, it seems implausible that he has not discerned the sinister forces lurking within her.’

A fresh wave of questions inundated Angelica’s thoughts, each one vying for her attention. In her ongoing battle to restrain her insatiable curiosity, she inadvertently overlooked the fact that her carriage had come to a halt before the imposing entrance to the Holy Temple.

With the assistance of her loyal guardian knight, the princess disembarked from the carriage and proceeded into the Temple’s sanctum. There, she was promptly welcomed by a youthful Temple attendant, a familiar face and one of Altair’s diligent aides.

"Your Highness, good afternoon! What brings you to our sanctum today? Is it concerning your well-being? You needn’t have made the journey all the way—"

"No, it is not related to my health. I am in excellent spirits to tell you the truth."

Angelica interjected, urging the man to halt. As the attentive attendant complied, she cleared her throat and went on, her tone poised,

"Is Revered Altair available at this moment? I have a matter of significance that requires his attention."

The young man’s demeanor grew somewhat uneasy, and he absently scratched the crown of his head before releasing a faintly disheartened sigh.

"What shall we do, Your Highness? Revered Altair is on the verge of setting out to visit Lord Elsher, who has been plagued by an enigmatic ailment for quite an extended period..."

"Oh..."

The princess widened her eyes, her gaze locked in a blank stare, mirroring the evident perplexity etched across the Temple attendant’s face. She could not deny the folly of expecting Altair to readily receive her solely due to her Imperial lineage, yet the lingering bitterness of this minor setback left an unpleasant aftertaste.

Resigned to the circumstances, she acknowledged that she could not while away the entire day in the Temple. Therefore, accepting temporary defeat, Angelica shared a soft smile, which gracefully curled her rosy lips, and bid her farewells to the attendant. However, instead of departing the Temple immediately, she chose to wander into the Temple gardens—a sanctuary that held fond memories of her late mother’s visits before her untimely demise.

Stepping onto the meticulously laid, pristine stone pathway that led deeper into the garden, Angelica’s ears caught the sound of approaching footsteps heading toward the Temple carriages. Curiosity stirred within her, and clinging to the lingering hope of glimpsing Altair, even if a conversation proved impossible, she emerged from the soothing embrace of the tree’s cooling shadows. Her eyes widened in astonishment as they settled upon an unexpected scene.

Before her stood Revered Altair, the man designated to be the future High Priest of Rische, his once-familiar long, white locks and distinctive platinum eyes now conjuring a disconcerting aura of darkness in her perception.

The once-pristine whiteness of his hair had undergone a startling transformation, now flowing like an inky cascade reminiscent of raven’s feathers. His once-familiar pale eyes had metamorphosed into a fiery, crimson hue, appearing as though they were brimming with simmering blood. And his mighty, powerful frame was now shrouded beneath an imposing veneer of dark energy, saturated with an unsettling blend of loathing and fury.

’What in the world is going on?.. Who is this man?’

***

"Lady Rosalie, may I enter?"

The voice, distinctly feminine, reverberated from beyond the confines of Rosalie’s closed bedroom door. The unexpected intrusion disrupted the tranquil ambiance within, causing Rosalie to startle. She shifted in her bed, transitioning into a seated posture and cleared her throat, relieving the stagnant stillness that had settled during hours of silence.

"Yes, Laith, please do come in."

Laith promptly entered and extended a graceful bow to her lady. She approached Rosalie’s bed and presented her with a thin paper envelope, bearing the name "Florence" inscribed in black ink.

"This is all I could find, My Lady. It represents the sole trace of information concerning the orphaned girl named Florence Black."

Rosalie had tasked Laith with uncovering any relevant details pertaining to Evangelina, preceding the unsettling incident during Angelica’s birthday celebration. This endeavor had provided Laith with ample time to carry out her investigation. Now, the lone, delicate white envelope held in Lady Ashter’s grasp was the tangible yield of her diligent efforts.

With deliberate slowness, as if intentionally prolonging the moment of revelation, Rosalie carefully unsealed the envelope and extracted a brief, handwritten letter from the director of the orphanage situated to the east of the Capital.

Her big grey eyes swiftly scanned the meager sentences, hastily scrawled on a small piece of paper. When her gaze finally settled on the concluding punctuation mark, she turned to Laith, her expression one of sheer bewilderment, and almost exclaimed,

"She is dead?!"

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