Thiendavis – For The Perfect Salvation

Chapter 1: The Curse That Reveals Everything

June 2, 2022

『To you, in an imperfect world, who longs for perfect salvation.』

…

“You are as rude as you look.”

A young girl’s sharp words cast a chill over what had been a lively banquet hall.

“Even so, I still need to pay my respects. It’s a great honor to meet you, Count Zion Laurel.”

Her follow-up insult sliced away any trace of laughter from the room, leaving the nobles frozen in place by the unexpected calamity.

Their eyes locked on the girl in a sapphire dress—Evie Ariate.

She had the title of saintess candidate, and the one responsible for destroying the atmosphere of the banquet hall with just two sentences.

Silence enveloped the space around her.

Amid everyone’s astonishment, Evie herself stood in a quiet but intense state of shock.

‘What did I just say?’

Evie glanced around the now-silent hall with wide, startled eyes, then glanced back at the distinguished man standing in front of her.

His name was Zion Laurel—the brother of the Grand Duke who had hosted the event and the very person whom Evie had just insulted by calling out his rudeness.

While Evie stood frozen, blinking, the Count spoke up.

“What did you just say?”

His straightforward question snapped Evie back to her senses, prompting her to attempt an explanation—or so she intended.

“I said ‘You are as rude as you look, but it’s an honor to meet you, count’.”

Yet, what emerged was a lively provocation, causing Evie to gulp in panic.

‘How did this happen?’

Something was wrong.

There was no way that the well-mannered Evie would have uttered such crude words to someone she’d just met.

Stunned, Evie quickly shook her head.

“Excuse me, count. That’s not what I meant to say…”

“But?”

The Count interrupted her, leaning in closer to Evie.

As the distance between them narrowed, Evie found herself looking at his face just inches away.

He was astonishingly handsome.

His finely chiseled features were flawless, and his lowered shoulders indicated his imposing stature.

His golden hair sparkled like a halo under the chandelier.

However, contrary to the rumors, it was his supposedly lifeless sky-blue eyes that now held an odd, intensely focused hue.

“What was it you meant to say, then?”

His voice was inscrutable, offering either the opportunity to explain or an attempt to hold his anger in check.

Faced with desperation, Evie responded without thinking.

“Mind your manners, you insolent rascal!”

And then she wished she could just die.

‘This must be a dream…’

Her mouth betrayed her again, landing her in hot water.

Evie could hardly believe the situation and stared despondently at the Count, who seemed to gaze back with a peculiar look.

Was he angry, or was he observing something fascinating?

Perhaps he was contemplating a fitting punishment for her earlier disrespect.

The ambiguity in his eyes and the room’s silence constricted her breath.

The nobles silently observed her, curious as to why the reputedly kind and gentle candidate for the saintess had behaved so wildly.

Evie wanted to offer some explanation or excuse, but she didn’t dare speak, fearing she might utter something even more bizarre.

Terrified, Evie bit her lip and, leaving the many gazes fixed upon her, fled from the banquet hall.

…

‘What on earth happened?’

Seated in her carriage, Evie gasped for air, replaying the recent events in her mind.

Earlier, Evie had humiliated a grand noble, Zion Laurel, in front of hundreds of other nobles, all while taunting about rudeness.

An unbearable occurrence.

In Thienda, only four houses were referred to as grand nobles, with House Laurel always at the forefront.

House Laurel was the nobility among the nobles and the de facto rulers of the continent without a monarch.

And she had insulted a Count from House Laurel during their hosted banquet.

Evie imagined with dread what the other nobles would whisper about her behavior.

“Good heavens, was she always like that?”

“Thankfully, this happened before she was chosen as the saintess.”

“Her lack of upbringing is as evident as if she were from the slums of Vis.”

Evie squeezed her eyes shut at the imagined criticisms.

Despite being a strong candidate for the next saintess, Evie was actually a lower-class citizen from the subcontinent Vis.

Living in an orphanage in Vis, Evie was blessed by God at the age of fifteen.

This brought her to the attention of the Tower Lord, allowing her to ascend to the noble world of the upper continent, Thienda.

At eighteen, she ventured into Thienda’s social circles, but the conservative nobles treated her coldly due to her origins.

Some young nobles even made careless bets on when the commoner would scamper back to Vis.

However, despite their rigid animosity, Evie’s unique abilities, born of divine blessing, and her kind and warm nature ultimately won the nobles over.

They slowly opened their hearts and loved her enough to consider her the next saintess.

But today, all her efforts crumbled, as she crassly blurted out insults for all to hear.

Yet, Evie swore to the heavens, she hadn’t intended to speak this way.

“My words had a mind of their own. How? Why did this happen?”

Confounded, Evie searched for the cause and then suddenly inhaled sharply.

Her butler had once mentioned this to her.

“Miss Evie, if you venture into society, you must also be aware of curses.”

“Though rare, nobles sometimes commission curses just as they would assassinations.”

“Such curses ensnare their targets in bizarre predicaments. You must be cautious.”

Yes, she had heard of it before.

Curses.

Recalling those words, Evie confirmed her suspicions about her state.

This was undoubtedly a curse.

Otherwise, her mouth wouldn’t move of its own accord like this.

Realizing this, Evie’s gentle eyes quivered with apprehension.

‘Would they believe me if I told them it was a curse?’

If she explained that the insult to Count Laurel was unintentional, that it was all because of a curse… Evie contemplated this before shutting her eyes tightly.

She was a little frustrated with herself for being more concerned about the nobles’ reactions than the unknown curse itself.

Yet, there was no helping it.

There was an insurmountable wall of status between Thienda and Vis, where arrogance was a right and humility an obligation.

While Evie hesitated, the carriage brought her to her mansion.

The servants hurried to greet her unexpected early return, but Evie rushed past them and into her room, breathing deeply against the closed door.

‘To explain, I first need to know what kind of curse it is.’

With this thought, Evie turned to the full-length mirror in her bedroom.

In the mirror was a delicate girl with long black hair, standing quietly.

Her elegantly dressed appearance was beautiful even to her own eyes, making her predicament all the more lamentable.

In distress, Evie bit her lip and whispered to the mirror.

“I am Evie Ariate, a candidate for the saintess of the Manyanya Tower and suspected victim of a curse…”

She murmured a few phrases, but unlike when she had insulted the Count, now she could speak clearly.

‘Why? Could it only affect my speech in front of others?’

While plausible, she hesitated to conclude prematurely.

Earlier, she had managed to speak properly for a brief moment in front of the Count as well.

Evie examined her reflection as she pondered deeply when a knock sounded at the door.

“Miss Evie, it’s me.”

A composed voice came from outside.

It was her butler, Diez.

“I heard you returned. You’re back earlier than planned; is there something amiss?”

The butler inquired politely, but Evie, unable to explain herself, improvised.

“At the banquet, I called Count Laurel rude and ran away because I couldn’t handle the aftermath.”

“… Pardon?”

Whoops, she meant to make something up.

But once again, her voice defied her intentions, and Evie slapped a hand over her mouth in surprise.

Again, her tongue acted on its own.

Why? Why now, of all times…?

‘Wait, could it be…?’

Captured by a sudden intuition, Evie gasped.

Come to think of it, when she had unwittingly spoken these unsavory words, a specific sequence of events preceded each occasion.

The first time, the second and third, and now.

Her suspicions building, Evie swallowed dryly and cautiously requested her butler on the other side of the door.

“Butler, could you set this topic aside for a moment and ask me any question you’ve been curious about?”

“What do you mean…?”

“Please, just this once, it’s important.”

Evie pushed the hesitant butler, who reluctantly posed a question.

“Miss Evie, did you really break the Tower Lord’s statue by accident?”

“No, I kicked it on purpose.”

A momentary silence followed Evie’s candid response.

Evie widened her eyes in shock, and the butler outside fell silent, too.

“Why?”

“It ticked me off.”

Even when asked why by the butler, Evie unwittingly confessed, sitting frozen in disbelief.

After a pregnant pause, the butler quietly asked again.

“Then, miss Evie, do you happen to know what happened to my Verdard limited edition teacup?”

“Yes, it’s buried in the flowerpot in my room.”

“Did you break it too?”

“Yes. But that was an accident.”

“Then why did you deny it every time I asked?”

“Because you’re annoyingly persistent and—stop, enough already!”

Under the butler’s persistent questioning, Evie was horrified by her own unintentional confessions and hurriedly stopped the questioning.

The butler demanded to know what was going on from the hall, so Evie clung to the door handle and groaned.

“This can’t be…”

Evie realized what kind of curse she was afflicted with and understood she could offer no explanations to the nobles, including Count Laurel.

Evie Ariate, the saintess candidate known for her benevolent and noble demeanor, was cursed.

It was surely a curse that compelled her to respond with absolute truth to others’ questions.

And just an hour ago, Evie, now forced into candor by the curse, had said this before everyone,
“You are as rude as you look.”

“Mind your manners, you insolent rascal.”

“A-Ah…”

Evie’s face turned pale as she replayed her words.

The truth was inevitable now.

The insulting remarks she had attributed to the curse were, in fact, Evie’s unadulterated inner thoughts.

The sweet and gentle Evie Ariate was, in reality, a prickly and opportunistic character who had been feigning meekness solely in pursuit of becoming a saintess.

Yet the unexpected curse had laid her pretenses bare.

Realizing this, Evie sank to the floor with her back against the door, silently screaming in frustration.

—