TGDHC Chapter 120

Chapter 120 – I Am a Saint

At the same time, Loic was sparring with his brother-in-law at the training ground.

Perel stood outside the arena, watching with Cecilia, who had come along with Raphael instead of Janet.

‘It’s a relief things turned out this way,’ Perel thought, shivering slightly as he watched Loic cross swords with Raphael.

Yesterday, Loic had suddenly asked him something strange.

—“When you investigated the Grand Duchess back then, was there anything else?”

—“Anything else, Your Grace?”

Perel had tilted his head, not understanding.

—“For example, that the Grand Duchess liked a certain nobleman when she lived in the capital.”

—“…!”

The moment he heard that, Perel’s face froze.

—“I didn’t purposely leave it out, I swear! It was just a baseless rumor, and the source wasn’t reliable…”

—“So, you filtered information on your own judgment?”

Loic’s jaw tightened, and Perel’s heart pounded in terror.

—“I meant no harm! I just thought it would upset Your Grace unnecessarily…”

And that was true.

It was bad enough that his lord had been forced to marry the daughter of his enemy—but to add that his new wife supposedly admired Duke Kyle, the man she was constantly compared to?

Perel hadn’t even wanted to imagine Loic’s reaction if he heard that.

It was only gossip from high society anyway, and with no solid proof, Perel had decided to omit it.

—“After all, Your Grace, Her Highness is already the mistress of Blenheim.”

When Perel said there was no need to feel insecure, Loic’s eyes had narrowed dangerously.

—“Insecure? Who’s insecure?”

Perel barely swallowed his next words—that a real man shouldn’t obsess over a woman’s past.

Still, he had to admit that even the coldest envoys had ended up praising the Grand Duchess when they left Blenheim.

At the farewell dinner, they couldn’t stop lamenting that she hadn’t attended—saying so every time they sliced their steak.

‘It’s understandable he’d be a bit uneasy, though. Anyone would, with a wife like that.’

In the end, Perel had shared Cecilia’s earlier advice.

—“The maid said the Grand Duchess dotes on Lord Raphael.”

—“What do you mean?”

—“If Your Grace gets along better with Lord Raphael, the Grand Duchess will surely be pleased.”

At the words ‘the Grand Duchess will be pleased’, Loic’s eyes sharpened with interest.

—“Lord Raphael dreams of becoming a knight. I heard that even when he was in the capital, he greatly admired Your Grace.”

—“Admired? Hardly.”

Still, Loic hadn’t seemed too displeased.

Then Norton mentioned that Raphael had really enjoyed their last training session, and when Loic invited him again, the boy eagerly accepted.

“Do you really think this will work?” Perel asked quietly to Cecilia, who was watching beside him.

She lifted her shoulders in a small shrug.
“Still, they seem much closer than before, don’t they?”

“Maybe,” Perel muttered.

But the Duke seemed to have forgotten what the whole point of today’s spar was.

Holding a wooden sword easily in one hand, Loic fought Raphael with what looked like genuine amusement.

Raphael, on the other hand, was red-faced and breathing heavily, swinging with all his might.

‘Is this really about bonding—or teasing him?’

Loic kept poking at Raphael’s openings just to annoy him, moving like a smug older brother bullying his sibling.

As Perel watched, he couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for Raphael.

That was when the Grand Duchess herself entered the arena, without even a maid accompanying her.

“Sister!”

“Annette!”

Both Loic and Raphael called out at once and rushed toward her.

Raphael began complaining to her like a child tattling to his mother, and Loic stood beside him, pretending to look innocent.

Annette burst into laughter, her voice bright and clear, as if she’d just heard the funniest thing in the world.

From a distance, Cecilia chuckled softly.

“That’s a relief,” she said.

“What is?” Perel asked.

“The Grand Duchess. Remember? She said she likes people who are fun.”

“She said she’s never met a woman who disliked a funny man,” he recalled.

“Same thing,” Cecilia said with a teasing smile.

Then, watching the three of them, she added with a grin,
“Now I see that His Grace the Duke is quite the funny man.”

“What do you mean? In what way?”

“His face.”

“…His face?”

Cecilia giggled. “The Duke’s face is funny.”

Perel blinked, utterly lost.

“But don’t worry,” she added warmly, looking at them again.
“I don’t think the Grand Duchess needs any worrying about anymore.”

“Priest Miel is here to see Her Grace,” the servant announced.

“Oh, please come in.”

The priest stepped forward, hands folded politely.

His silvery-gray hair was neatly tied back, and his thin figure looked fragile beneath his white robe.

“I heard you left the temple to come here for me. Thank you.”

After the envoy’s departure, Loic had told me about the priest and the matter of the seal—once he decided I had recovered enough.

—“You mean I have holy power?”

I’d been confused, so Loic arranged for me to meet Miel in person.

“May I examine Your Grace’s condition?” the priest asked.

“Please do.”

Loic, standing beside me, looked slightly tense, but Miel stepped closer and gently took my wrist.

After a long moment, he released my hand with a look of certainty.

“It’s true. You possess holy power of exceptional purity, Your Grace.”

He even lifted his chin proudly as he added,
“Frankly speaking, even the High Priest himself may not have power this pure.”

“Of course, the seal must be completely lifted before you can fully use it,” he said carefully.

“That… can’t be right.”

No matter how many times I asked, Miel gave the same answer.

Annette is a false saint.

Since I had failed to manifest divine power for ten years after birth, I had been branded a fake.

All my misfortune began from that moment.

And now—he was saying I possessed divine power?

‘And if it surpasses even the High Priest’s…’

Was he saying that I’m actually the real saint?

“At first, I was doubtful myself,” Miel admitted cautiously. “But after examining Your Grace’s condition last time, I can say it with confidence now.”

Then he spoke firmly.
“Your Grace is truly the Saint.”

“That’s absurd.”

My voice trembled without meaning to.

A rush of confusion and discomfort filled me.

If I’m the saint, then what about Kathren—the original saint from the story?

There couldn’t be two saints in the same world.

‘Which means one of us is fake.’

If not me, then… was she pretending all along?

Was Kathren even aware of it?

The thought that the world I knew might be different from what I believed made my blood run cold.

Loic must have seen my face turn pale, because he quickly grabbed my hand.

“Annette?”

“I-I’m just… shocked.”

My shoulders trembled slightly.

“Leave us,” Loic ordered in a low voice.

Miel looked startled but bowed and stepped out of the room.

“Annette, look at me.”

That same feeling from the café returned—a painful tightness in my chest, as if someone were squeezing my heart.

“Annette, look at me.”

When I finally lifted my head, struggling to breathe, Loic was staring straight at me with steady eyes.

“Are you all right?”

“It’s… hard to breathe.”

Without hesitation, Loic reached behind me and untied the ribbon laced tightly around my waist.
Then he loosened every string on the front of my dress until my lungs finally expanded again.

He pulled me into his arms and gently rubbed my back in slow circles.
My breathing gradually steadied to match the rhythm of his hand.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed that way.

“Feeling better?”

I nodded faintly, and Loic let out a quiet sigh of relief.

He took my hand in his and spoke softly,
“I’m sorry. I should have waited until you were calmer.”

“How is this your fault?” I murmured.

A moment ago, my body had been stiff from fear, but his warmth made me relax completely.

“I guess I was just startled.”

“Anyone would be,” he said kindly.

His gentle tone eased me even more.

Then I noticed—my dress had slipped off my shoulders, and the front had loosened enough that my slip was visible.

“No matter how urgent it was, isn’t it improper to undress a lady like this without asking?” I said lightly, half joking to show I’d calmed down.

But Loic answered seriously,
“She’s not just any lady. She’s my wife.”

For some reason, those words settled my heart.

Maybe… for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel alone.

‘It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.’

Whatever happens, this man will help me through it.

“Loic, you’ll stay with me, right?” I asked, my face still buried against his chest.

“…Of course,” he whispered close to my ear.
“So you don’t have to worry about anything, Annette.”

‘It’s okay. You’ve done so well until now.’

Even though everything—sorcerers, dragons, saints—felt unreal and frightening, his warmth was enough to keep me steady for the moment.

Lifting my head from his chest, I said softly,
“We only kissed once today.”

Loic froze for a second, a strange expression flickering across his face as if holding back laughter.

He pressed his lips together, then leaned in silently.

His dark hair brushed against my forehead as his lips drew near.