Chapter 4: Crown Prince’s Perspective
I received the news just after the entrance ceremony had concluded without incident, as I was heading toward the student council room with my milk brother, Cyril.
Ernesto, who was both my fiancée’s cousin and a prospective future aide of mine, called out to me in the corridor.
“So, she has awakened?”
“Yes.”
“Then I suppose I cannot avoid paying her a visit.”
“I apologize for the trouble.”
“No, she is my fiancée, after all.
If I at least show my face, there should be no complaints.”
It was news that my fiancée, who had taken ill and been bedridden for about three days, had regained consciousness.
Louis pictured his fiancée in his mind, his usual cheerful smile fading as a crease formed between his brows.
Her black hair, reaching the middle of her back, curled softly and shone with luster.
Her slightly upturned large catlike eyes reflected her strong will.
From her vivid red lips often came confident and rather extreme remarks.
For Crown Prince Louis, his fiancée Rashel was a rare presence—someone he found troublesome to meet, despite excelling effortlessly at nearly everything else.
Among the high-ranking nobles, her magic was particularly strong.
Her academic performance was excellent as well, and it was due to her remarkable ability that she became his fiancée.
However, the arrogance common among noblewomen and her intimidating, almost aggressive attitude toward women who approached Louis were hard to overlook.
Moreover, her tendency to look down on those with low magic, including the commoners who supported the nation, left Louis exasperated.
Still, as Crown Prince, he had made every effort not to show any sign of his displeasure.
Louis possessed golden hair that gleamed brilliantly, blue eyes, and an exceptionally handsome, sweet appearance.
At the same time, he exuded the dignity befitting royalty.
He never forgot his gentle smile, a charm that captivated people of all ages and genders.
Yes, the former Rashel had arrogantly believed that this perfect prince—Louis—was the only one worthy of her.
Now, surrounded only by those he trusted, Louis discarded his public smile and could not hide his weariness.
He let out a quiet sigh.
Then, instead of continuing toward the student council room, he turned on his heel and headed for the entrance.
“Cyril, we are going to the Marcel Marquis household.
Send someone ahead with notice.”
“As you command.”
At those words, Rashel’s cousin Ernesto also began walking behind Louis.
“I shall accompany you.”
♢
At the same time the three rode in a carriage toward the Marquis household,
a girl with fluffy pink hair, clearly a new student who had just finished the entrance ceremony, stood frozen in front of the student council room.
“Why isn’t the post-ceremony event triggering?!
It’s a crucial mandatory event!
What is going on?!”
She stomped her feet in despair, shouting dramatically.
The students passing by the student council room pretended not to notice and hurried away.
None present here had any way of knowing that this girl would one day be called the Saintess.