Isn't Being A Wicked Woman Much Better?

167

C167

Mia had frozen and was biting her lips to the point of pain as she listened to their conversation. Marquis François and Albert continued talking.

"Marquis François, let's not waste money on doing good deeds for Mia. Instead, let's spend more money on buying slaves that can be killed. We need more power. Whoever the Saint is... we need power to kill."

Buying slaves for ceremonial sacrifices meant regaining control of their property.

Marquis François, pathologically obsessed with grooming and looking beautiful, hesitated for a moment, and Albert's forehead tightened.

"Some of the nobles suspect Mia, and it can be handled somehow. You can create sympathy and use public opinion against her. But if the real Saint appears, what Mia is doing now would be useless! Don't you know that?"

Albert's voice became harsher, and Marquis François nervously pursed his lips.

"Marquis, the more difficult the situation, the more you will have to catch the saint, kill her, and offer her blood, so that the anger towards you can be relieved a bit."

"I didn't give up on finding the Saint. The problem is that there's no one matching the list of those who participated in the incense ceremony. Did Albert find any clues?"

A heavy silence fell between the two.

At that moment.

"I know who the Saint is."

A cold voice cut through between them.

"How long have you been there?"

"Since before."

"By the way, what did you just say...?"

"Wait a moment! Mia Binoche, is it true? Do you know who the Saint is?"

Faced with Albert's urgent question, Mia nodded while licking the blood on her lips.

"Yes."

Seeing Mia's eyes gleam in a strange way, Albert was surprised inside.

In the past, seeing her serve from a distance, he thought she was like a puppet, but now she feels like a completely different person. Marquis François quickly grabbed her delicate shoulder.

"Who is the Saint?"

"... Deborah Seymour."

Mia's cold voice dropped like a glass hanging on the edge of a table shattering.

-------------------

"Is Deborah Seymour the one who wielded power in the incense ceremony?"

"Yes."

The 4th Queen leaned forward and looked very closely at Mia's eyes, which had a dangerous light, like shards of broken glass.

Boldly, she didn't avert her gaze even as the 4th Queen revealed her abyssal power.

"Mia, didn't you get on your knees with these lips to say thank you because I fixed that power for you?"

She pressed Mia's cracked lips, which were dripping blood.

"But why are you suddenly convinced that Deborah Seymour is the Saint? You'll have to come up with a reason for me to understand."

Mia spoke without looking away despite the pain.

"At the ball... the Crown Prince said there was a strong power at the center of the altar. Coincidentally, at the center were the Crown Prince and Princess Deborah, who were leading the ceremony."