Prince, I Don’t Want To Be Killed by You This Time! -The Poor Lady Who Was Framed by the Saint, Avoids Being Skewered the Second Time! ~ - Chapter 36

The king gazed at her with a sympathetic gaze, her honey-colored eyes wet with tears. Fishing his eyebrows, the king turned to me.

“Rude! Who would believe such a thing? Do you dare to mock the sacred power of the saint?”

Before I could say anything, the captain of the royal guard spoke up.

“Your Majesty. Half of the credit for the saint’s healing that night goes to the black-haired sorceress there. She gave the majority of her magic power to the saint that night. She gave it to her until she was almost at the upper limit and couldn’t stand for a while.”

“You are taking advantage of the saint’s good nature and telling lies!”

I found myself laughing out loud.

The king thinks that what is good for him is good for everyone.

My little laugh sent such tension through the place that even the windowpane seemed to shatter.

The king looked at me angrily.

“What’s funny?!”

“It’s funny, Your Majesty. Have you not yet discovered the pitch-black true nature beneath the pretty mask?”

“What are you talking about? The saint is a pure woman who has no such feelings!”

“There is no such thing as a person without black emotions. If someone seems to have them, it is only because he or she is hiding them well or not showing them.”

“Don’t believe her, Your Majesty. It is a plot against me!”

Then Mac stepped forward. He pointed at the saint, his fiery red hair flowing in the air.

“The evil doesn’t stop there. Not only in the ballroom, but also in the theater fire before that, the saint was pulling strings behind the scenes.”　　

Ignoring the king, who shuddered at the thought of this nonsense, Mac continued.

“The person in charge of fire prevention at that time resigned from his post and is now living a life of elegance in the Marquis de Zephyr’s domain.”

“Is that true?”

The king glared at the Marquis de Zephyr, the saint’s father, who was in the front row. The Marquis shook his head from side to side as if trembling.

“I don’t know such a man.”

“With his flamboyant lifestyle, everyone in the neighborhood knew about it. It would be quite difficult to destroy evidence of the move in now, wouldn’t it?”

When the captain of the Royal City Guard added a nail to the wall on Mac’s behalf, the marquis still refuted.

“How does that connect Iris to the fire marshal? That’s an accusation!”

Mac and I exchanged glances. The Marquis had played on the last piece of evidence we had prepared.

There would be no escape. We had to push him here and settle the matter once and for all.

Mack looked straight at the king and said firmly.

“The fire warden set fire to the opera house in exchange for a certain quid pro quo. –He had an only son who was suffering from an incurable disease. It was an incurable disease that every doctor had given up on.”

Once Mac breaks the words, the King asked suspiciously “What about it?”.

Mack grinned and shrugged.

“How strange. I hear that the son’s illness has now somehow been completely cured.”

After a pause, I folded the question.

“That’s a miracle, just like the healing art of the saint.”

The large audience hall, packed with people, fell silent.

The king took his time to shift his gaze to the saint.

“It was you who cured his incurable illness?”

The saint, her face as white as her dress, shook her head.

“No! It is all a lie. I’m a saint! This can’t be…”

“Iris would never do such a thing! Father, don’t be fooled by this nonsense.”

The Crown prince makes a desperate defense.

I fixed my eyes firmly on the king and pointed at the saint.

“I will tell you why the Saint committed arson. For one thing, to quickly raise her status as a saint to the point where she would be suitable for the Crown Princess. But more importantly, once she was in the limelight of the whole country and had made her mark on the glittering stage, she wanted to stay there. The big stage became an addiction. The more victims she took, the bigger the case, and the more injured people she saved, the more she enjoyed the attention and praise that showered down on her. For that, she didn’t care if it cost the people or caused them pain.”

The one and only saint on the continent. A rare existence.

It satisfied Iris’s need for self-expression like nothing else.

The audience hall fell silent. If you close your eyes, it seems as if no one is there.

Then, the saint’s soft voice rises.

“I have done nothing.”

“So you are saying that the Royal Guard is making up a story with the whole organization?”

Now there was a distinct coldness in the king’s voice.

The other recipients, who were still standing in line very close by, backed away from her little by little, staring at the saint with white eyes.

The flow of the moment changed.

I said that in a loud voice so that all could hear me.

This is what I, the one who was killed, had complained about many times back then. But no one believed me.

I can indeed feel that poor Liesel from that time is still inside me.

I put in my claim for twice my life.

“A bad girl is not a pretty thing. This Iris Zephyr is a rare criminal!”

The quiet place is filled with voices agreeing with me.

I stood in front of the saint and instead of slapping her irrationally lovely face, I shouted what I wanted to say the most.

“You’re a saint, you’re ridiculous! You are such a piece of shit, Iris!”

I said it, even though it was foul-mouthed.

The room was horribly silent. Even the saint was frozen like a statue.

In response, the captain of the royal guard moved.

“A criminal of the lowest order cannot be the crown princess.”

At his direction, Mac took the saint’s wrist and twisted it behind her back without telling her what to do.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re going to have to accompany me to the guard station, saintly bitch.”

Mac glanced at me as he tied the saint up behind her back with the help of his colleague.

He smiled slightly, then quickly returned to a straight face.

That day, the night of the graduation party, when I told him about my past. Mac had stared at me, suspicious of the fire. And he wanted to join the Royal Guard and prepare for a major fire.

The saint bent her body into a crook, but her face turned red and she pleaded desperately.

“Your Royal Highness, help me!”

The saint’s hair, which had been tied up neatly, was already a mess. Her nose was dripping, but she was unable to wipe it off because her hands were bound.

The crown prince, with a pale face, tried to hold out both hands to the saint. However, the king quickly intervened and brushed his hands away.

The king snatched back the tiara that was shining above the saint’s head with the force of a plucking motion and returned it to the small box held by the attendant.

The King then ordered the Royal Guard in a firm voice.

“The saint is to be confined to the Royal Hospital, where she will spend the rest of her life caring for the sick.”

Then, as if remembering, he added

“Before you do that, take her to the Jumeaux family and have her treat Mademoiselle Mia.”

Katharina’s mother plopped down on the floor.

She screamed in tears.

“I thank you! Your Majesty!”

Catharina bowed her head and sobbed with her. She was so excited that even her neck was turning red.

“No, this’s not right! I’m the saint!”

In front of everyone, a sobbing saint is forced to leave.

Her golden hair was shaking and her honey-colored eyes were wet with tears, and now everyone was looking at her with hatred.

No one felt sympathy for her, considering the number of victims who lost their lives in the burned-out ballroom. The healing drama was a farce of her own making.

The moment Mac with the saint walked out of the audience chamber, I sat down on the spot.

It was over.

At last, I could absolve the saint.

I had revealed her sins and frustrated her ambitions. Iris would never set foot in the royal palace again.

Having accomplished what I had been unable to do in my previous life, someone grabbed my arm from behind as I slumped like a shell.

It was the Crown prince.

He was glaring at me, his face contorted in a terrible hatred, as if he had seen hell on earth.

One crisis after another.

I can’t imagine what this crown prince’s anger will cause at all.

My throat twitches with fear.