A Marriage of Convenience /The Marriage Business

Ch 116

The first to discover it was Francis, who observed every movement of Bianca to the point of having blurry eyes.

"This...?"

Francis's eyes widened at the golden light that rose through Bianca's bangs. Under the sacred-feeling light, Francis immediately reached out his hand towards Bianca's bangs to check the stigma.

But the opponent is a Countess. Francis's hand, unable to directly reach her bangs, waved in the air. He stammered and asked carefully.

"Believer, move your hair for a moment..."

"Yes, yes."

Unaware of what was happening, Bianca nodded and carefully lifted her bangs off her forehead. Under Bianca's well-groomed, slender nails, the reddish-brown bangs lifted, revealing a clearer trace than when it was hidden.

As if a pattern had been made by finely sprinkling gold dust in the middle of her forehead, the shining trace was the pattern of a dove. It was a stigma that meant "messenger of God," in other words, "the one who conveys God's will." It was the same as in the historical material Francis knew.

"Oh, oh... as I expected!"

He started with confidence, but when he actually saw the miracle of God with his own eyes, he was overwhelmed by the glory. Tears rolled down Francis's wrinkled cheeks. Overwhelmed by emotion, he couldn't speak easily and knelt in front of Bianca.

Taken aback by Francis's sudden action, Bianca stood up from her seat without realizing it. Bianca rubbed her forehead. The only thing she touched with her fingertips was the smooth skin covering her forehead.

It was even more difficult for Bianca to empathize with Francis's reaction since there was nothing special about herself.

Still, judging by Francis's reaction, the stigma seemed to have been exposed. For a moment, she thought she had returned to her foolish dream that was nothing more than an illusion.

Bianca finally breathed a sigh of relief. However, that didn't resolve all her concerns. The meaning of being a Saint was something very significant.

"Why of all people should it be me? I am not faithful, not pleasant, not capable. Am I really a Saint?"

Bianca remained motionless, not knowing what to do. While Bianca was perplexed, Francis, who had regained his composure, stood up slowly. His blue-gray eyes were filled with courtesy and astonishment. Francis asked cautiously.

"Have you ever told anyone else? Maybe Count Arno..."

"No, no one..."

"What future do you see?"

"......"

Bianca's mouth shut tightly. The hint of not wanting to speak was evident.

Francis nodded as if he understood. The future seen by those who predicted the future was the future that should not happen for God and the worst future for themselves. In other words, it was the weakness of a Saint in themselves. Francis changed his words and asked the question again.

"Then, believer, no, chosen Saint, what future do you desire?"

Although he has always been respectful, his attitude has become more polite after acknowledging that Bianca is a Saint. Faced with the title imposed by Francis, a sense of reality took hold of Bianca. This was not the time to be stunned by the fact that she was a Saint. What truly mattered was something else.

Bianca blinked slowly, considering Francis's question. The future she wants is...

"...my husband."

As soon as Bianca struggled to open her mouth, she choked. She couldn't tell if the air had vanished or if a snake had lodged itself in her throat.