The Saintess Is Too Good at Lying - Chapter 18

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Saint Is Such a Good Liar! Episode 018
“I understand, I… I understand. I misspoke just now.”
Formoso offered a reluctant apology with obvious displeasure written across his face. Only then did I smile softly and speak.
“Since it was said in private, I won’t mention it to His Majesty. But I’d appreciate it if you’d be more careful going forward.”
“…Yes. Thank you.”
“You shouldn’t speak so poorly of His Majesty. After all, he’s generous enough to embrace even a fake like me.”
That was when Formoso’s unfocused eyes suddenly gleamed with sharp intensity.
“A fake, you say.”
He reacted as though he’d heard something utterly absurd.
“You are the real one now, Justitia.”
Watching him bristle, I laughed. Another trigger point of Formoso’s I’d recently discovered.
“You shouldn’t say such things. God chose the Cassini Noblewoman first, after all. I’m merely… a replacement for her.”
Formoso genuinely believed I was the “real” one and absolutely despised when I disparaged myself as “fake.”
I didn’t know why.
But once I’d noticed it, I’d been deliberately calling myself fake at every opportunity.
Look at him now—his eyes narrowed sharply, reacting with such sensitivity.
“Your Holiness.”
Formoso called to me then, his tone like someone coaxing a child.
“There must be someone who cherishes you even more than His Majesty does, someone far more considerate. I would be pleased if you married such a person.”
“Thank you, Archbishop. You care for me more like an older brother than the Cassini Duke does.”
“Because I am your family.”
What nonsense is this? Why would I be family with him?
Dumbfounded, I stared at Formoso intently, and as though drawing courage from my gaze, he continued with a solemn expression.
“I understand. Given your nature, Your Holiness, you must fear taking the first step. But there’s no need for you to act directly. Simply say the word. I shall deliver the annulment papers to His Majesty…”
“Archbishop.”
As Formoso was in the midst of his tirade, a knock sounded, and the Priest entered. Formoso frowned in displeasure and scolded him.
“I am in conversation with Her Holiness.”
“My apologies. Outside, at present…”
The Priest answered with an awkward expression.
“His Majesty has arrived.”
I, who had been quietly waiting for our conversation to end, became bewildered. What was he doing here again?
It seemed I wasn’t the only one taken aback. Formoso responded dismissively.
“Tell him to pray and leave.”
“No, that is… it seems he must be seen.”
At those words, Formoso rose from his seat. What? What was going on?
Following a premonition that something entertaining awaited, I started to stand, but Formoso immediately stopped me.
“Please remain seated. I shall return shortly.”
His eyes showed he was quite reluctant to let me out of his sight. Well, all his persuasion would be for naught if I fell back into that fool’s hands again.
Then I should live up to his expectations. I smiled broadly and clapped my hands together.
“He’s surely come to see me.”
My eyes sparkled as I answered with the helpless enthusiasm of a girl hopelessly in love.
Eyes that had begun to grow weary of the grand spectacle to come suddenly gleamed with renewed interest.
“Let’s go together, Archbishop.”
“Saint, you needn’t trouble yourself….”
I brushed past Formoso, whose expression betrayed reluctance, and stepped outside.
Alfonso stood in the Central Courtyard, holding an enormous bouquet of roses.
A bouquet so massive his face disappeared entirely behind it.
I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at the theatrical absurdity, and hearing the sound, Alfonso turned to regard us.
Alfonso’s face broke into a radiant smile upon seeing me, and he strode forward with confident steps, his handsome golden hair catching the light.
“Jus.”
I wanted to tell him to stop using that nickname, but….
‘Justitia had always shown obvious delight whenever Alfonso called her by that affectionate name.’
Why had she permitted him such familiarity? I swallowed a sigh and fixed my gaze upon Alfonso before me.
Alfonso flashed that infuriating smile, bent at the waist, took my hand, and pressed a kiss to it.
Did I have a handkerchief in my pocket? I smiled and naturally withdrew my hand, slipping it into my pocket to discreetly wipe it clean.
Given the relentless lies I’d been spinning until moments ago, I couldn’t afford to show obvious distaste.
“Your Majesty.”
“Have you been well?”
I was astounded by the man’s casual manner of greeting.
He knew full well the rumors circulating through the Royal Palace, yet he asked if I’d been well? What nonsense was this?
Utterly useless—nothing but a pretty face.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Do I look particularly handsome today?”
“Always.”
Though I could never say when you might finally flee from your own rotten character.
I found myself imagining Alfonso suddenly going bald. The urge to laugh became unbearable.
I hastily averted my gaze and bit my lip.
The gesture inadvertently resembled someone stifling tears, and my ragged breathing sounded almost like a sob.
The atmosphere instantly grew tense.
“What brings you here, Your Majesty?”
Formoso’s cold voice came from beside me.
At the blatant disrespect, Alfonso’s eyebrow twitched as he met Formoso’s gaze directly.
“I came to see Jus.”
“How presumptuous of you to arrive unannounced. Please respect the Saint’s privacy.”
Wasn’t this the same man who had burst into my bedroom without warning just yesterday?
My gaze naturally shifted toward Formoso. He turned his head, and our eyes met.
His expression was so absurd—as if he were silently saying, ‘Trust only me.’
“I’m perfectly fine, Archbishop. I’m truly delighted that Your Majesty has come.”
The uncomfortable words I uttered boosted my affection rating by a mere 0.2%. Formoso’s expression, meanwhile, was deteriorating visibly.
Watching his reaction with amusement, I casually took the bouquet of roses Alfonso had brought. The fragrance was lovely.
Formoso pressed his temples with an openly pained expression, while Alfonso, conversely, became smug with satisfaction.
“Are you planning to keep me standing here, Justitia?”
Alfonso asked with an arrogant air, his shoulders thrust back.
His insufferable demeanor threatened to sour both Formoso’s expression and my own.
Keeping him on display as a spectacle in the Temple indefinitely wouldn’t be entirely unpleasant.
But it would be better to move inside and have a proper conversation.
“I shall escort you to the Reception Room, Your Majesty.”
I led Alfonso to the Reception Room.
“How have you been? You don’t look well.”
His casual tone, as though nothing had transpired, left me momentarily speechless.
Yes, it had always been this way. He had never shown genuine concern for Justitia.
I lifted the corners of my mouth without revealing my displeasure.
“I’ve had many social engagements lately. It’s been quite busy.”
After offering a perfunctory response, I turned my attention to Nora.
“Bring chamomile tea instead of black tea, Nora.”
I smiled at Alfonso, whose expression had grown puzzled.
“I heard recently that you’ve been losing sleep.”
It was a lie.
What madman would relay to me that “the King has developed insomnia because of you”?
I had merely made a casual jab, but Alfonso’s expression stiffened slightly—suggesting it was true.
‘…It was actually true? Yet he acted so indifferent during the monthly Mass.’
So he was losing sleep without even showing remorse. A hollow laugh escaped me.
“Chamomile tea is better for restful sleep than black tea. In times like these, you must take proper care of yourself.”
“Times like these?”
“Now that our love faces a crisis.”
At those words, Alfonso’s eyes widened before he burst into laughter.
“Didn’t you create that crisis yourself?”
“Me?”
I feigned innocence with a look of utter obliviousness, and he quirked his lips slightly before his expression vanished.
“Did you think I wouldn’t know, Justitia? You came to find me that day on purpose. You were curious whether your claim of being unwell was a lie, weren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say such a thing. You said you weren’t feeling well, so…”
“Well, that’s sound judgment.”
Alfonso cut off my words and continued.
“You must have decided you needed to establish your authority before the marriage. To gain the upper hand in this union.”
He was beating his own drum and playing his own flute, creating quite a spectacle. I regarded him as if to say, go on.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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