As she entered the ballroom, a hushed murmur swept through the crowd like a whispering wind. The guests, nobles, and dignitaries alike, turned their heads to catch a glimpse of the well-known Saintess, a figure they had come to associate with plainness and soft-heartedness. But what they saw was a revelation, a young woman who exuded strength, confidence, and a stunning beauty that left them in awe.
Alya moved with an elegance and grace that seemed to defy the very essence of her previous identity. The dazzling gown she wore only heightened the effect, its golden and white hues casting a radiant glow around her. The crowd couldn't help but watch in astonishment as she pushed her way through the numerous guests, her presence commanding attention and respect.
Finally, Alya arrived at the heart of the ballroom, where her family stood. The moment had come for her to confront them, to face the past that had haunted her for so long. She stood before them, a vision of strength and determination, ready to unveil her newfound self and take her first steps toward the revenge she had long desired.
"Mother, father,"
Alya greeted her parents with a tone that was as cold as ice, her voice devoid of the warmth and affection that had once defined their relationship. Her gaze, once filled with filial piety, now held a steely resolve as she locked eyes with her family.
Turning her attention to her brother Richard, Alya's expression transformed. She donned the brightest smile, a facade that concealed her true feelings beneath a veneer of false charm.
"Congratulations, dear brother,"
she said, her voice sweet and saccharine, a stark contrast to her earlier coldness.
"May God be with you on all your ways."
With a practiced grace, Alya folded her hands in front of her, her posture a picture of elegance and courtesy. The words, though polite, carried an underlying sense of irony and bitterness that only those who knew the family's history could fully grasp.
Richard, clearly taken aback by Alya's unexpected appearance and demeanor, could only manage a curt response.
"What are you doing here?" he snapped at her, his voice tinged with anger and suspicion.
Alya, feigning deep hurt and betrayal, took a few steps back, creating distance between herself and her family. It was a performance she had rehearsed in her mind countless times, a carefully orchestrated act to conceal her true intentions and emotions.
"What kind of question is that, brother?"
Alya retorted, her voice now raised and dripping with feigned innocence.
"Of course, I'm here to congratulate you on your birthday. Are you not happy to see me?"
Her words, intentionally loud and filled with mock enthusiasm, were designed to draw the attention of those around them. Alya's eyes flickered with a sneaky smile as she relished the success of her calculated move.
People in the vicinity began to turn their heads, their curiosity piqued by the sudden exchange between the once-beloved Saintess and her brother. The atmosphere in the room grew tense, as guests exchanged furtive glances and whispered speculations.
But Richard, unable to contain his anger and resentment any longer, erupted in a fit of rage. His voice thundered through the room as he shouted at Alya, his words a venomous rebuke.
"CAN'T YOU TAKE A HINT? GET OUT OF HERE NOW, YOU WITCH. AND DON'T EVER CALL ME YOUR BROTHER AGAIN. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
The venom in his words cut through the air like a blade, leaving no room for doubt about the deep-seated animosity between them. Alya had succeeded in her plan to publicly confront her family, and the consequences of her actions were unfolding before the eyes of the startled onlookers.
People gasped shocked when they heard those cruel words coming out of Richard's mouth.
Drip…
As fake tears began to stream down Alya's face, she summoned every bit of her acting skills to sell her performance. Her voice quivered and broke as she attempted to speak, her feigned vulnerability on full display.
"B-brother..?"
Alya stammered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and sorrow.
"What…what has gotten into you? Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, please…PLEASE FORGIVE ME!"
She dropped to her knees before her brother, her posture a pitiful display of submission as she begged for his forgiveness. Her eyes, glistening with fabricated tears, were fixed on him, pleading for even the slightest hint of compassion.
Richard, consumed by his anger and frustration, raised his hand as if to strike her across the face. But before he could follow through, their mother intervened, her voice laced with shock and disapproval.
"What are you thinking? We're in public," she hissed at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Richard's hand, poised to deliver a punishing blow, froze in mid-air as he realized the gravity of his actions. His face turned ashen, guilt and embarrassment washing over him. He had allowed his anger to cloud his judgment, and the consequences of his impulsive behavior were painfully clear.
"You…you planned this, right?" Richard's voice was laced with accusation as he glared at Alya with a murderous look, suspicion burning in his eyes.
Alya met his gaze with a hint of defiance, unwilling to admit any wrongdoing. But before the tension between them could escalate further, their father intervened, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere.
"Enough."
The sternness in their father's tone took both Alya and Richard by surprise. His unexpected intervention left Alya momentarily stunned, and she looked up at him in astonishment. It was a rare instance of their father stepping in to maintain order, a departure from his usual passive demeanor.
Richard, though clearly irritated by their father's interference, snorted derisively and turned away from Alya. He made his way to greet other guests, their family following him like dutiful attendants catering to his wishes.
Alya couldn't help but suppress a wry smile as she watched her brother's predictable behavior unfold.
*Wow, he really is too predictable,*
she thought, recognizing that her plan had not only exposed her family's true colors but had also revealed the cracks in their facades.
"ALYA! Are you alright? Don't take his words seriously. He didn't hit you right?"
Alya's attention was drawn away from the commotion with her family as a young boy with blonde hair came rushing towards her, his face etched with concern.
"Ah, Jungdae,"
Alya greeted him with a weak but reassuring smile, her voice carrying a hint of relief.
"Don't worry, I'm alright."
She had known that she could rely on Jungdae, the one person in this gathering she felt she could trust completely.
"Let me help you up,"
Jungdae offered, extending his hand toward her.
Alya's smile grew more genuine as she accepted his assistance. She took his hand, fully intending to let him help her to her feet. However, in her weakened state, she inadvertently put a little too much weight on his hand, causing her to stumble forward.
Alya found herself falling into Jungdae's arms, their bodies pressed close for a fleeting moment. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and security in his embrace. It was a momentary escape from the chaos that surrounded her, a reminder that in Jungdae, she had a friend who would always be there to support her.
"Excuse me,"
Alya said politely as she regained her composure after stumbling into Jungdae's arms.
"Oh, don't worry, it was my fault,"
Jungdae replied with a reassuring smile. But then, his expression shifted to one of curiosity tinged with concern.
"But Alya… I've been wanting to ask you this the whole time. Why are your eyes red?"
Jungdae's gaze bore into her, searching for answers in her eyes. His concern was palpable, and Alya could feel the weight of his inquiry.
"What—what are you talking about?"
Alya stammered, her voice quivering as her hands started to shake involuntarily. She let out a nervous laugh, her attempt to deflect the question only adding to the sense of unease. She knew that her red eyes were a result of her pact with Gwisin, a secret she had hoped to keep hidden. But it seemed that Jungdae's keen observation had exposed a crack in her carefully constructed facade.
*What on earth did that damn demon do?*
"God, Jungdae, what are you talking about?"
Alya's friend Roby chimed in, her voice filled with warmth and affection as she grinned at the Saintess.
"Her eyes have always been red, dumbass. Alya, it's so good to see you!"
Alya returned Roby's friendly grin, feeling a genuine sense of relief in the presence of her friends. Their kindness offered her a respite from the bewildering situation that had unfolded earlier.
"Oh, yes, it's good to see you, Roby,"
Alya replied, her smile gentle and sincere.
Excusing herself, Alya made her way to the bathroom, needing a moment alone to collect her thoughts. Inside the bathroom, she stared in disbelief at her reflection in the mirror. There was no denying it—her eyes were indeed red. But what troubled her even more was Roby's casual remark about her eyes having always been that way.
"Gwisin, what on earth did you do?" Alya muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with frustration and concern.
In response, a soft giggle echoed in her mind, but no clear answer was given. It was as though the demon reveled in keeping her in the dark about the extent of their pact.
*That damn demon,* Alya thought with a mix of anger and resignation. She couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease and suspicion about the true nature of her transformation.
The most concerning part was that Jungdae seemed to have sensed that something was amiss. Alya knew she couldn't afford to let her guard down, especially around her friends who might unwittingly uncover the dark secrets that now lay beneath her seemingly unchanged exterior.