Chapter 4 - The Prince's Perspective
The news reached him just as the entrance ceremony concluded. Louis was heading toward the student council room with his milk brother, Cyril, when Ernest—his fiancée's cousin and a candidate for his future aide—approached them in the hallway.
"I see. She's awake, then?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Then I suppose I must pay her a visit."
"I apologize for the trouble she has caused you."
"No, she is my fiancée, after all. If I show my face, she won't have grounds to complain."
It was word that his fiancée, who had collapsed three days prior, had finally regained consciousness. Louis pictured her and felt a furrow form between his brows, his usual cheerful smile flickering. Rachel had black hair that reached the middle of her back, falling in glossy, elegant curls. Her large, slightly upturned cat-like eyes spoke of her strong will, and her crimson lips were usually busy delivering arrogant, self-assured remarks.
To Louis, the Crown Prince who handled everything with ease, Rachel was a rare existence—someone he found genuinely tiresome to deal with. She had secured her position as his fiancée due to her high status and immense mana capacity, but her arrogance was typical of high-ranking noblewomen. She frequently intimidated any woman who drew near him and looked down on those with low mana, including the commoners who supported the kingdom. Louis, ever the dutiful prince, made sure never to let his distaste show.
With his shimmering golden hair, azure eyes, and refined features, Louis possessed a sweet yet regal look that charmed everyone regardless of age or gender. He never forgot to maintain his smile.
Yes, the old Rachel believed that only a perfect prince like Louis was worthy of her.
Now, surrounded only by those he trusted, Louis let his public mask slip, unable to hide his exhaustion. He let out a heavy sigh and turned back toward the entrance.
"Cyril, we're going to the Marcel estate. Send a messenger ahead."
"As you wish."
Ernest followed close behind as the three made their way to the carriage.
♢
At that same moment, a girl with fluffy pink hair stood alone in front of the student council room, having just finished the entrance ceremony.
"Why isn't the post-ceremony event triggering?! This is a vital forced event! What is going on?!"
She stomped her feet in a fit of tragic frustration. Students passing by looked away, quickening their pace to avoid the scene. None of them could have guessed that this girl would one day be known as the Saint.