Thiendavis – For The Perfect Salvation

Chapter 20: Evie is Still Not Difficult

Evie Ariate had always been as small as she appeared.

Her hand barely wrapped around the hem of her dress, and her forehead barely reached the middle of Zion Laurel's back.

Thus, by merely standing, Zion could completely shield Evie from view.

However, there was one issue.

“What about the skirt, you fool?”

Zion restrained himself from chiding her aloud.

Evie's long nightgown skirt was visibly peeking between Zion's legs.

There was no way for Zion to shield this.

Zion could not fathom Evie Ariate's carelessness.

She mentioned she had a husband, so appearing like this could not be good.

Although, it was a situation that could easily be passed off as a mere coincidence of meeting each other in the kitchen.

What was stranger was that Evie decided to hide.

Yet Evie had a reason Zion could not comprehend.

To begin with, if Mrs. Marso saw Evie and Zion together, the odds were overwhelmingly high that she would ask.

'What are you two doing?'

This would likely lead to Evie's curse creating further complications.

Upon hearing Mrs. Marso's voice, Evie even imagined herself blurting out.

'I was just talking with the Count!' or 'This is Count Laurel!' or 'He's a grand noble!' and subsequently being murdered by the Count.

To avoid such a scenario, she chose to hide behind Zion's back.

“Oh, I wondered who it was. Were you alone?”

Mrs. Marso, who appeared wearing a sleeping cap, sighed in relief upon seeing Zion.

“I was startled by a woman's voice. It must have been coming from the next room. I forgot to mention this room isn’t soundproof.”

Mrs. Marso clicked her tongue and spoke busily.

Fortunately, she did not notice the skirt peeking from under Zion’s legs, thanks to the darkness and her poor eyesight.

She briefly exchanged night greetings with Zion before heading back to her room.

Suddenly recalling something, she paused and spoke.

“Oh, if you’re okay with it, join us for breakfast tomorrow. You can meet that couple, too.”

She intended to introduce Evie and Diez to Zion.

Zion muttered something under his breath instead of giving a clear answer.

“They seem like a fake couple.”

“Hmm?”

Unable to understand, Mrs. Marso tilted her head in confusion.

Behind Zion, Evie desperately clung to his clothes.

Feeling the tug of his garment and the scratch on his back, Zion changed the subject.

“I’ll go down in the morning.”

The woman nodded skeptically at Zion’s belated answer, muttering about how peculiar it was as she returned to her room.

Hearing the door close, Zion spoke to the person behind him.

“You can come out now.”

With that, Evie, still in hiding, quietly stepped away from Zion’s back with her hands clasped together.

Avoiding eye contact in embarrassment, Evie caught Zion’s softened gaze.

“Just do it like this. Even in Thiendavis.”

Evie turned her head, possibly understanding the meaning of Zion’s words, and smiled awkwardly.

It was an invitation to cling, hide, and tease.

Zion’s words were gracious yet domineering, promising to act according to her wishes if she followed his advice, as he did now.

And so, Evie laughed, leaving Zion questioning her reasons for amusement.

“Shouldn't you just give up the position of the saintess?”

“I still need to think it through.”

Evie replied.

“You're supposed to be calculating.”

Zion clicked his tongue as he considered Evie's hasty answer, hinting at her poor knack for computation despite her supposed shrewdness.

Although his tone was cold and expressionless, Evie recalled how he had hidden her behind him and continued speaking.

“I have to do the math right. Earlier, you said that I was just being used?”

“That’s a fact.”

“Yes, it is a fact. Yet, aren’t we all used by someone? We use each other, find use for each other, and through that, we gain the worth and qualification we deserve. It’s something I believe in.”

The manner in which Evie now chattered was markedly different.

Earlier, she had meekly observed the Count, but now she was brighter.

This attitude, possibly deemed impudent, didn’t seem to annoy Zion.

“That’s why the Count’s offer doesn’t add up. I’m not sure if I’m truly qualified to accept it, nor do I trust the Count, who has hindered my path forward without warning.”

Although her words were provocatively defiant, especially the accusation of hindering, Zion allowed them to pass.

Emboldened by this leniency, Evie continued assertively.

“Moreover, I think I’ve been doing well up to now, even though I’ve always been used.”

“What do you want to say?”

“Please let me handle it myself.”

Though her curse induced slips of the tongue, Evie wasn't as flustered as before.

She was now confident that speaking freely was safe.

As expected, Zion merely folded his arms and watched Evie without rebuke.

Though he didn’t object to her manner, his steadiness was unchanged.

“I refuse.”

“That’s coercion.”

“I acknowledge that.”

“Do you think acknowledgment is enough?”

“I regret that.”

“What...!”

When Evie was about to retort, Zion silenced her by covering her mouth with his hand.

“If you don’t want to hide again, lower your voice.”

Zion’s large hand covered not only her lips but half her face.

Evie recalled how he had once held her cheek, a memory of indignity.

Perhaps she should bite him.

Although he seemed lenient enough to tolerate even that.

But what good will it do?

Evie gazed at him unsettlingly, while Zion, in return, sighed lightly.

It was nothing short of amusement.

Having gauged the situation, Evie seemed ready to express herself freely from then on.

Not that she was always tactful, but she used to tread cautiously, watching for signs.

Now, even that seemed to be discarded.

Zion found this version of Evie more agreeable.

Yet, her statement to manage on her own without interference annoyed him.

Although seemingly minor, it somehow irked him.

Despite this, her assertions were essentially valid.

Her claim that his proposal didn’t compute, her complaints of mistrust, and her self-praise for past successes were not incorrect.

In resignation, Zion shared something he initially hadn’t intended to divulge.

“I used to live in this house.”

“Mmm?”

Evie made an inquisitive sound behind the hand that covered her.

Her bemused appearance was amusing, but Zion maintained a stoic expression as he continued.

“Someone entrusted me with you. The astrologer who lived here with you.”

Upon Zion’s confession, Evie’s eyes widened.

Thus, Zion lowered his hand from Evie’s face.

Then, facing the stunned Evie, he concluded.

“Re-calculate. See if things add up now.”

---

Evie returned to her room almost an hour after the Count’s footsteps had faded.

Yet Zion’s footfalls echoed upstairs much earlier.

It seemed that Evie had stepped out alone to clear her mind.

Without a word, Evie lay down on the bed, prompting Diez to whisper concernedly.

“Are you planning to hog the whole bed by acting all serious?”

“Yes, that's right. I plan on sleeping right here.”

Having been caught out, Evie struck Diez with a pillow.

The butler retaliated energetically against her huffing indignation.

Once the scuffle settled, Evie lied back down, breathing heavily.

“Let's talk tomorrow; I’m tired.”

Wrapping the blankets over herself, Evie mulled over the Count’s last words.

'Someone entrusted me with you. The astrologer who lived here with you.'

Truth be told, Evie had already suspected it.

She had no choice but to suspect it ever since she first saw Zion Laurel in the house.

What were the odds that Laurel counted this house among Vis's myriad villages and coincidentally chose to reside in the very house Evie Ariate once lived in?

Perhaps similar to the odds of a dragon hatching from an egg.

Thus, thinking in reverse made sense.

The Count arrived here knowing this was where Evie and the astrologer had resided.

Hence, he was not surprised when he found Evie in the village.

Instead, he surmised she had returned after renouncing the path of a saintess.

While this answered one significant question, it brought forth even more confusion for Evie.

What debt did the count owe the astrologer?

When did they meet? Was it after he left Evie?

Why did he entrust Evie to the Count?

Without your presence by my side.

Evie resisted the urge to storm into the Count’s room to seek answers.

Instead, she remained outside, trying to calm her chaotic thoughts as the cold breeze enveloped her.

Despite her efforts, her heart remained heavy.

The waning moon hung sharply like a toenail against her chest.

During her vulnerable moment, the Count's casual remarks echoed, throwing Evie into turmoil.

'The nobles only want your abilities.'

'They'll discard you once your value wanes.'

'Becoming a saintess won’t be any different'

'They’ll use you regardless.'

“How are you supposed to be a difficult person?”

Evie couldn’t deny these truths, acknowledging them.

In fact, she claimed them proudly.

She believed in reciprocal usefulness, in triumph amidst adversity.

Yet, in reality, she was exhausted and worn out.

Before her closed eyes, an apparition of herself surfaced—a vision she couldn't tell apart from a dream or reality.

That manifestation of Evie Ariate was like a doll dressed elegantly.

Although she appeared as radiant as any noble maiden on the outside, her insides were more wretched than at Vis.

She hadn't found peace in sleep for a long time.

Driven to cultivate grace, she reduced her nights to reading, learning dance and instruments.

She rehearsed smiling prettily and starved herself dizzy to fit into dresses.

And despite everything, she remained restless, eavesdropping daily to hear what others said about her.

With so much knowledge, she had never spoken her mind freely.

Feigning ignorance, pretending she had nothing to say, yielding to silence eventually.

Tienda allowed her a decorative, ornamental life as a commoner.

Even if she sang to work miracles or purified water to save the world, she remained confined.

And even that fragile existence crumbled under a grand noble’s declaration, causing her to fret even more.

Evie anticipated becoming a difficult person at Tienda, yet she was nowhere near that.

Instead, she was humbler, more desperate than ever.

Pondering her own situation, Evie regretted.

Why hadn’t she slapped the Count when he rambled.

“Just do it like this”?

Why had she let that self-assured man go after he pompously insinuated she merely had to dote, hide, and plead to get what she wished?

Despite hearing such brazen words, she feigned ignorance and continued to push boundaries, watching how far he would allow it.

Merely to the extent where resentment wouldn’t arise.

But it had been inevitable.

Because Evie was still undemanding.

Though she claimed she sought to be formidable, in truth, she was still far too easy.

Realizing this anew, Evie shifted her position to stifle her heavy sigh.

That night lingered as the eve before the new moon.

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