But she did not rush to expose it, simply placing the scroll gently on the table and speaking in a soft voice:
“Saintess, thank you for visiting me when I was ill before.”
Isavel’s hand, holding the pen, paused slightly, then she replied coolly:
“I had no such free time. It must have been Lady Selis who visited you, right? Don’t get it wrong.”
“Is that so? So it was Lady Selis. No wonder, you and she both have such a similar scent, so I mistook you.”
Teresa stepped forward half a pace, the hem of her skirt nearly brushing against the corner of Isavel’s robe.
At the same time, there was always a trace of indescribable meaning in her smile.
But at this moment, Isavel’s attention was entirely on the magic exercises Teresa handed her.
As for the comment about their similar scents, she explained offhandedly:
“Scent? She and I use the same perfume, that’s why it smells similar.”
“Oh.”
Teresa lowered her eyes, a knowing smile flashing across her lips.
Such a clumsy lie was hardly worth hearing. After all, she herself had once been the eldest daughter of a prestigious Godblood Family—how could she not tell the difference between artificial fragrance and a person’s natural scent?
She was certain: the scent on Isavel and Selis was the unique fragrance that came from the same body.
Not to mention, as a tutor’s assistant who often entered this place, she had long noticed that neither the lounge nor the Saintess’s bedroom even had a basic vanity, let alone perfume.
Isavel and Selis were the same person!
With this conclusion set in her heart, when Teresa looked at her again, her gaze carried a deep, indescribable meaning.
They had misunderstood Isavel.
From the very start, this Saintess had been protecting them all along. Her cruelty was only a disguise—her aim was for the Rose Knights to grow swiftly under her strict discipline.
Once this mask was shed, she was no different from that gentle Saintess Selis.
After Isavel finished explaining the magic exercises, Teresa chose to take her leave. Yet just as her fingertips touched the doorframe, she suddenly gave a soft groan and raised her hand to her forehead.
The exercise booklets scattered onto the ground with a rustle, and she herself slumped limply to the side.
However, what she fell into was not the cold floor, but a soft embrace.
Isavel reached out just in time to catch her, and the girl’s slender body trembled lightly within her arms, the lavender fragrance in her hair growing ever more distinct.
“What’s wrong?”
“I… My head’s so dizzy… It must be that old illness acting up again…”
As she spoke, Teresa silently shifted her body a little, drawing herself even closer into Isavel’s embrace.
Frowning, Isavel said:
“Illness? According to my investigation, for those of the Godblood Family, if the bloodline concentration becomes too high, the body will gradually begin to mutate in order to adapt to the overwhelming Divine Grace within.”
This was information she had deliberately returned to the Aos Empire to obtain from Queen Flandre. In her view, Teresa’s unique constitution was likely caused by her own excessively concentrated bloodline.
What she hadn’t expected was that this explanation only further confirmed to Teresa that she and Selis were the same person.
Teresa inwardly let out a soft, coquettish snort.
How could a cold, villainous Saintess who never cared for her subordinates know her illness so thoroughly—even down to the root cause?
And she still claimed she wasn’t Selis?!
If she really was Selis, that would mean the Saintess had investigated the truth within just a few days after Teresa’s illness recurred…
Such efficiency… To put it bluntly, in her eyes, they were as dear as family.
Hmph, clearly she cares deeply, yet she insists on pretending to be indifferent.
Teresa pursed her lips and timidly gripped Isavel’s sleeve. “Divine Grace that’s too strong? But I don’t feel like I can use that much Divine Grace at all…”
“That’s the Divine Grace hidden in your bloodline. What you can sense and call upon is only the portion that overflows.”
Isavel’s fingertips unconsciously stroked Teresa’s back as she continued,
“So, even though your Divine Grace was drained from you as a child, you’re still able to use it now.”
“So that means my body keeps producing Divine Grace endlessly… But in that case, won’t my body start to mutate…”
She couldn’t forget that when she was sick the other day, not only had her body felt particularly unwell, there had also been a sense of something within her wanting to break free.
As she said this, a hint of fear flashed in her pupils, and she buried her face in the crook of Isavel’s neck, her voice muffled:
“Will… Will I become a monster?”
“What nonsense?”
Isavel chided softly, but hugged her even tighter. “No matter what you look like, you will always be a member of the Rose Knights.”
“Thank you, Lady Isavel…”
The girl suddenly turned and hugged her back. That cold, moonlit aura she always carried was now replaced by a comforting warmth.
It made Teresa feel as if she’d finally found someone she could rely on.
But Isavel herself sensed something was amiss. After all, her role was the villainous Saintess, not Selis—how could she say such gentle words?
Thinking this, her fingertips suddenly lifted Teresa’s chin.
Drawing close to her cheek, Isavel gave a hint of a devilish smile and said,
“Heh, no need to thank me. This is only my duty. After all, you are all my tools. Even if your appearance changes, you’re still my tools. I won’t let you leave me.”
Before she finished speaking, she caught sight of Teresa’s bright, passionate eyes—there was no fear in those eyes, only a sweetness that threatened to overflow, turning her cheeks a brilliant red.
She could only think: Isavel was so domineering.
But this domineering front was a façade. Beneath that icy gaze, Teresa could see the tenderness Isavel hid deep within.
Some dangerous impulse roared within her blood.
For some reason, Teresa wanted to tear away the Saintess’s flimsy disguise, see her completely defenseless, and then conquer her utterly!
But in the next moment, she hastily pressed her hand to her chest, forcibly suppressing the surging desire.
Now… was not the time yet.
Isavel helped Teresa up and released her, her tone returning to its usual cold distance.
“Go back.”
“My legs… I can’t move them…”
Teresa covered her calf, lowering her head, her face showing a hint of pitiful weakness, even her voice taking on a slightly spoiled tone.
Her calf was, in truth, perfectly fine. She was just looking for an excuse to stay.
Unfortunately, her little scheme was for naught.
Feigning illness would not make Isavel let her stay.
What awaited her was Isavel’s gentle call to the air:
“Renia, take her back.”
“Yes.”
Renia appeared silently, deftly lifting Teresa in her arms.
Finally, under the unwilling gaze of the young girl, their figures rippled away like water, vanishing from the lounge.
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