I Decided to Kidnap the Male Lead - Chapter 91: The Saint, the Crown Princess Selection, and the Things In-Between (III)

Surprisingly, no one in the hall paid attention to the saint.

Even those who saw her simply glanced at her and turned their eyes away.

Wasn’t it said that indifference was more terrifying than cursing to those who wanted attention?

Whatever the reaction of the people that the saint, who appeared at a very late hour like the protagonist of this party, was hoping for, it would never have been something like this.

‘Oh my god, it’s the saint. How holy she is.’

‘Saint. Will everyone become saints if they suddenly appear from somewhere and say that?’

What she wanted was a scene of people talking, whether it was favorable or not.

She touched her white, dust-free dress and blinked her eyes stained with bewilderment.

Someone. Anyone. Weren’t they supposed to be whispering something?

‘I am a saint.’

Wasn’t she a woman who received a mission from God to become the crown princess?

‘But, what does this indifference mean?’

Whether the saint was taken aback or not, those gathered in the hall were busy trying to keep each other in check.

That would be too.

“Wow… Oh my God, is it the lady I’m looking at right now?”

“That’s right. I don’t know how many people fell in front of her mansion while singing about her beauty in the rain for three days and nights.”

“Oh my, who is that?”

“Oh! A voice that can’t be found anywhere else in the world!”

“My God. You’re the author of the book that made a mark in the business world. That book is still my favorite.”

“That person over there… oh!”

“Can’t you lower that fan? She’s the one who’ll cut your fingers off with it!”

Truly, the beauties of the whole continent, the geniuses of the world, all of whom had only been heard through rumors, were all gathered in this hall.

Since there were not just one or two people whom bards could sing praises of till they were hoarse, there was no way a saint, especially one without special abilities, could get attention.

Could it have worked if she could radiate divine power and raise the dead?

In this hall, it was more impossible for a saint to attract attention with her pretty face and white clothes than to pluck a star from the sky.

Although the saint was at a loss, she did not retreat to the corner. Instead, she stood in the center of her crowd.

This was also possible because no one even looked at her, let alone talk to her.

“In a way, I’d say I’m lucky.”

Ophelia shook her head as she leaned back in the shadow of the wall where light had deflected.

This was the first time she had seen the saint in person, but anything she planned would be of no use.

‘Should I ask Richard?’

Did he know that it would become like this from the moment he willingly invited the saint into the palace?

“It can’t be.”

Ophelia opened her eyes dimly.

Judging from the many experiences she had with him…

‘He is probably just trying to get her to open up by herself, since he is too lazy to confront.’

In the end, it must be because he was Richard that his judgment was perfectly correct.

She lifted her glass, sipped some wine, and widened her eyes.

“This…”

“It’s an honor to remember.”

Lawrence approached Ophelia, standing a couple of steps away from her and greeting her politely.

“It’s the second time you’ve tasted it.”

“Are there others?”

“No. Unfortunately, that was the only thing that crossed the threshold of the Imperial Palace.”

Ophelia did not back down from him who took a step closer.

They weren’t alone, and in such a crowded place, they couldn’t unnaturally widen their distance and talk loudly.

“At least I didn’t mistake the taste of the wine and sent it properly to the Imperial Palace, so I’d say it’s fortunate.”

Ophelia finished the wine. She didn’t say anything to his joke, which made fun of the embarrassing misunderstandings of her and Richard.

If it had been the young master or lady of another family, even if that person was the next head of a family that was as large as the Marquisate of Sheffield, Ophelia would have avoided it.

There was no way she couldn’t do so when she could avoid the sensitivity of trained assassins.

But the one in front of her was Lawrence Sheffield.

“Last time, I committed a lot of rudeness. I purposely sought out the lady to express my apology.”

She couldn’t openly ignore him, who deliberately found her hiding place in the shadows which evaded many people’s eyes and bowed his head.

He might be the next head of the Sheffield family, but above all, wasn’t he Catherine’s older brother?

Catherine, with whom Ophelia had gone through that day with, hesitated uncharacteristically and even asked.

“Would His Highness the Crown Prince suddenly slit the neck of that idiot, no, my brother?”

“What? That’s impossible.”

“Yes. But…”

Catherine had always cursed at Lawerence’s stupidity, often calling him incorrigible, but she seemed to be worried about him too. Ophelia had to pat Catherine’s hand for a long time to reassure her.

“If you keep apologizing like that, then my words that there was no need to worry would be pointless.”

“I’m only doing what I should. Feeling apologetic towards you.”

Such small conversations flowed quite smoothly.

Lawrence Sheffield was easy to talk to, and Ophelia didn’t exactly hate his silly jokes.

It wasn’t particularly nice, but it was better than the awkward silence, so Ophelia agreed with him quite sincerely.

Then, suddenly, she realized something strange.

Of course, Ophelia tried to stick to the wall as much as possible, but Lawrence didn’t show any signs of that.

Still, no one approached them.

People glanced over, but just indifferently turned their heads.

Even if Ophelia’s presence has been erased to the extent that they could barely notice her… Lawrence?

“Lord Lawrence.”

“Yes.”

“Can you stay here like this?”

“Yes?”

“You’re the next Marquis of Sheffield.”

A lot was implied in the short answer.

A person in that position did not even greet others, let alone converse with them.

Was it okay?

Lawrence chuckled.

“Fortunately, my face isn’t very well known.”

“I’ve heard that, but I didn’t know that no one would come this far.”

“Well, it’s less annoying and nice. And…”

The pride on his face was evident as he spoke.

“There’s no need to create a relationship with the people here right now.”

‘I guess so.’

Ophelia was quickly convinced. It was the Imperial Marquisate of Sheffield after all.

He could face anyone at any time if he wanted to.

“And today is Catherine’s time to play, not mine.”

There was a saying that even a tiger would come if one mentioned it.

(TL/N: probably the Korean version of ‘speak of the devil’.)

Right then, Ophelia saw Catherine walking into the hall.

Catherine, whose eyes met Lawrence first, grimly scrunched up her face and soon turned her head, and her eyes met Ophelia.

Ophelia waved slightly at Catherine.

Iris was seen barely stopping Catherine, who was about to approach in a natural order.

Ophelia conveyed gratitude to Iris with her mouth.

Hours before this party.

“Inspection? You want to attend a party but not be seen by anyone?”

“Yes. It’s about the saint attending a party. Saying more than this is difficult.”

“Is it confidential?”

“Yes. That’s how it is.”

With embarrassment, Iris waved her hand at Ophelia, who smiled with her eyebrows lowered.

“No, that’s not it. I’ve been ridiculously jealous of you before, but not now.”

Ophelia smiled and hugged Iris tightly.

Iris whispered as she returned the hug.

“I don’t know what happened, but don’t get hurt. And don’t get sick. If I see it, I’ll stop Catharine from running to you.”

“Yes. thank you.”

Contrary to Ophelia’s thoughts, the saint, who was the subject of the investigation she had told Iris about at the time, had nothing more to observe. But the party was just beginning.

‘Now that Catherine Sheffield has appeared, there is only more…’

Then, as if to prove Ophelia’s thoughts, the voice of the attendant announcing the Marchioness of Neir was heard.

While keeping an eye on the slowly opening hall door, Ophelia uttered,

“I’m going to have to end this conversation.”

The moment Lawrence was about to reply.

—Thud.

With the heavy sound of the tip of the spear hitting the floor, the hall was enveloped in silence for a moment.

It was the appearance of the one everyone had been waiting for.

“His Highness the Crown Prince is entering it!”

The voice of the attendant resounded in the hall, where even the sound of breathing had died down, and the curtains on the other side of the main entrance were lifted, revealing a golden lion.

Credits goes to Jassie for raw providing, Ame for translating, and Dea for proofreading.