Reincarnated as The SSS-Rank Villain Magus: My Arcana Evolution System

She had told herself it was because she couldn’t openly choose a side. She was the Saintess and a representative of the Light Temple. Participating directly in the murder of another hero would create consequences far beyond the hunting ground.

But that wasn’t the entire truth.

She hadn’t wanted Rey to watch her choose Darius over him.

Somehow, Rey had noticed her hesitation. He always noticed things other people missed.

Then he’d stolen her magic anyway.

Elia swallowed and studied him more carefully.

There were no black veins across his skin. His hands weren’t trembling, and there had been no visible curse reaction despite the enormous amount of magic he’d used during the hunt.

That shouldn’t have been possible.

Could the curse be gone?

No. A curse born from the Dark Lord’s core couldn’t simply disappear. Something had happened to Rey, and whatever it was, he wasn’t telling them.

Her attention returned to the melancholy expression on his face.

Perhaps this vulnerability gave her an opportunity.

The thought should have felt cruel, but Elia considered it practical. She was the Saintess. She was important to the kingdom and the Light Temple, and powerful people had always protected her because her healing could save hundreds of lives.

Rey had protected her once too.

Perhaps he could again.

”Saintess?”

Elia didn’t react.

”Saintess?”

She blinked and turned toward the escort standing beside her. ”Yes?”

”Please come with me. Your room is ready.”

”Oh.”

She glanced toward the window once more.

Rey was gone.

A strange disappointment settled in her chest, but she quickly turned away and followed the escort.

The room prepared for her was luxurious, as expected. Warm water had already been brought, and two maids helped remove the dirt and blood from the hunt, though Elia insisted she could handle most of it herself.

She washed and changed, letting the servants remove every visible reminder of what had happened.

By the time she sat before the mirror, she looked almost normal again.

One maid carefully brushed her pale hair while Elia studied her own reflection.

The Saintess stared back at her.

Clean, beautiful, untouched, sacred, exactly what everyone expected her to be.

Yet her thoughts kept returning to Rey.

She remembered standing behind him during battles years ago and how safe it had once felt. Darius had officially been their leader, but whenever something went wrong, everyone looked toward Rey.

Where should they move?

Which formation should they use?

What weakness had he noticed?

How could Elia conserve her mana?

Rey always seemed to know.

And she’d left him.

She had left because he was dying, because nothing she did could heal him, and because watching him deteriorate terrified her. Every attempt to save him had failed until she’d eventually convinced herself there was nothing more she could do.

Maybe that had been true.

Maybe it hadn’t.

Her fingers tightened in her lap.

Could she go back to him now?

Was it already too late?

Rey had five wives.

That thought irritated her more than she wanted to admit.

Still, she was the Saintess. Surely that meant something. People didn’t simply abandon the Saintess. They protected her, needed her, and valued what she could do.

Rey had once done all of those things.

Perhaps she could remind him.

She didn’t need to force anything or ask for too much immediately. She could simply reconnect with him, speak to him, and show him she wasn’t his enemy.

If his curse truly was under control, then perhaps everything had changed.

Perhaps there could still be a place beside him for her.

”Thank you,” Elia murmured.

The maid bowed and stepped away.

Elia rose, smoothing her white dress before walking toward the door. Her hair was neat again, her skin clean, and there was no trace of the terrified woman who had been trapped beneath Raven’s shadow while Garr’s attack came crashing toward them.

She reached for the handle just as the door opened.

Elia froze.

Rey was passing through the corridor.

He had changed as well. Clean clothes replaced the torn ones from the hunt, his dark hair had been tidied, and there wasn’t a trace of blood left on him. From the direction he was coming, it seemed he’d just returned from the king’s study.

For a moment, Elia could only stare.

He looked nothing like the broken man she’d watched through the courtyard window.

His posture was straight, his eyes clear and controlled. That heartbreaking vulnerability had vanished so completely that she almost wondered whether she’d imagined it.

Then Rey noticed her.

Their eyes met.

Elia’s breath caught.