Chapter 7

Ella stood before the full-length mirror, adjusting the heavy, suffocating layers of her dark crimson and black gown. It was the traditional attire of the estate's matriarch, designed to look imposing and severe.

She stepped out of the estate gates, flanked by Kevan and Daulton.

The moment her boots hit the cobblestone street leading to the central plaza, the atmosphere shifted. The bustling noise of the market died instantly.

The beastmen and commoners lining the streets stopped what they were doing. They turned to look at her, their faces twisting into masks of pure, unfiltered hatred and fear. Mothers pulled their children behind them. Men gripped the hilts of their hunting knives.

Someone from the back of the crowd spat a wad of phlegm onto the cobblestones near her feet.

"Poisonous witch," a voice hissed from the shadows. "Harbinger of ruin."

Daulton walked on Ella's right. Despite his hatred for her, his warrior instincts kicked in. His muscles coiled tight, his amber eyes scanning the hostile crowd, ready to fight.

Kevan walked on her left. He kept his head bowed, the hood of his tattered cloak pulled low, hiding his face. He was used to this. Being bound to the tyrant meant sharing her infamy.

Ella kept her chin high and her face completely blank. Inside, she was screaming. Just how many people did this original body torture to earn this level of hatred?

They broke through the crowd and entered the massive central plaza.

In the center stood a raised wooden platform covered in thousands of expensive, blooming white roses. Standing amidst the flowers was a woman in a flowing, pure white dress. She had soft blonde hair and a face that radiated gentle innocence.

Kendra Klein. The Saintess.

When the crowd saw Kendra, their hatred vanished, replaced by a fanatical, feverish worship. Deafening cheers erupted, praising her name.

Ella rolled her eyes so hard they almost got stuck in the back of her head. It was the classic, textbook setup of a manipulative, two-faced villainess.

Kendra spotted Ella. Her face lit up with a brilliant, joyful smile. She lifted the hem of her white dress and practically floated down the steps of the platform, running toward them.

"Sister!" Kendra cried out, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness. She reached out, trying to link her arm affectionately through Ella's.

Ella didn't miss a beat. She violently yanked her arm away, slapping Kendra's hand back with a loud smack.

The crowd gasped in collective outrage.

Kendra stumbled back a half-step. Her large blue eyes instantly filled with unshed tears. She looked down at her red hand, the perfect picture of a bullied, innocent victim trying to stay strong.

"I'm sorry, sister," Kendra whispered, loud enough for the front row to hear. "I just missed you."

Kendra then turned her teary gaze to Daulton and Kevan. A flash of cold calculation passed through her eyes, gone so fast Ella almost missed it.

"Oh, by the Primal Deity!" Kendra gasped, covering her mouth. "Your wounds... they look so much better! I prayed all night for you both. I begged the Deity to let my holy water ease your suffering. It worked!"

The crowd erupted again, shouting praises for the Saintess's boundless mercy. She even heals the tyrant's dirty pets!

Daulton's ears perked up. The hostility in his eyes melted away. He looked at Kendra with profound, genuine gratitude, even bowing his head slightly in respect.

Ella ground her teeth together. She wanted to scream that she was the one who spent her points and risked her life to heal them, but the System's rules kept her mouth shut. She had to swallow the injustice.

But Kevan didn't bow.

He stood perfectly still, his gray eyes locked onto Kendra. There was no gratitude in his gaze. Only a cold, piercing observation.

Kendra stepped closer to Kevan. She raised her hand, a faint, glowing white light radiating from her palm. "Let me see your hands, poor thing. Let me finish healing them."

As her hand reached out, Kevan took a smooth, deliberate step backward.

He completely avoided her touch.

"I wouldn't want to dirty the Saintess's pure hands," Kevan said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

Kendra's hand froze in mid-air. A muscle in her jaw twitched with hidden fury, but she quickly masked it with a sad, understanding smile. "Of course. I understand your trauma."

Ella couldn't take the fake acting anymore. She let out a loud, mocking laugh that cut through the plaza.

"Prayers?" Ella sneered loudly. "Your little light show is nothing but cheap parlor tricks, Kendra. You couldn't heal a paper cut if your life depended on it."

The words were absolute heresy.

The crowd went feral. A massive beastman near the front roared in anger. He bent down, scooped up a jagged piece of cobblestone, and hurled it directly at Ella's head.

Daulton saw the rock coming. His instinct was to dodge, to let the tyrant take the hit.

But before the rock could connect, a shadow moved.

Kevan stepped directly in front of Ella, his face pale with the sudden realization that if she died here, the Beast Mark would instantly detonate his own core. He reached out, intending to shove her out of the trajectory, but he miscalculated the speed of the projectile. As he twisted to push her aside, he inadvertently exposed his own back to the angry mob.

Thud.

The heavy stone slammed into Kevan's spine. He grunted, his body jerking forward, but he didn't fall. He stayed planted firmly between Ella and the angry mob.

Ella stared at his back, completely stunned. Why would the man she had supposedly tortured for years take a rock for her?

Kendra quickly raised her hands, projecting her voice over the crowd. "Please! Stop! Do not hurt my sister, no matter how lost she is!"

The crowd slowly calmed down under her soothing voice, but their glares remained fixed on Ella.

Ella didn't care about the crowd anymore. She stared at the dust on Kevan's cloak, a deep, unsettling suspicion taking root in her mind.