Everyone Has a Bright Future

Wrong!

Iris’s eyes sparkled.

Lady Elia truly had no equal companions or friends—and zero romantic experience.

In other words, she might not distinguish friendship from love.

Or, due to a Saintess’s reserve and self-discipline, she’d subconsciously downgrade budding feelings.

True, calling it “love” was premature. But Iris had never seen Elia admire a man this much. Even just now, her attitude toward Hero Luke clearly showed favor.

The problem? Elia was too selfless, too sacrificial. Even with someone she liked, she’d instinctively step back from competition…

Iris couldn’t stand it. Anything else, she wouldn’t dare question. But love? She wouldn’t yield!

Love should be selfish—pursued at all costs. As romance novels say: Lose a leg, but never love!

“Rest assured, Your Highness—I’ll handle this. I’ll definitely find out for you.” Iris patted her ample chest.

“No, that’s not what I—” Elia, rare for her, showed slight panic.

This only convinced Iris further: Elia liked Luke but refused to compete. Given Elia’s kind nature—always sacrificing for others—Iris switched tactics: “I understand. You just want to know your future teammate better. Nothing more, right?”

“Y-Yes… exactly.” Elia opened her mouth to protest, found no words, and nodded shyly.

“I’ll do my best!” Iris burned with determination.

“Thank you, Iris, but…” Elia still fretted, “Lord Luke has his own thoughts. We can only respect his choice…”

At this, Iris’s expression shifted.

The royal family had arranged a fiancé for Elia years ago—the second prince, with decent early reputation.

Before engagement, he was exposed for affairs with multiple noblewomen. Confronted by the king, he defiantly declared, “Why must I live by your rules?”—nearly demoted to commoner.

Elia, ever gracious, not only forgave but defended him.

The king merely annulled the engagement and exiled the prince to his fief.

Now, Iris realized: Elia seemed unbothered then, but it left scars. She feared a partner who’d philander.

Iris’s guard went up.

Luke passed Charlie’s test, yes. But—crude as it sounds—men are different with pants on and off.

Charlie couldn’t test emotional fidelity. No one expected the “reputable” prince to be a playboy who recorded his escapades with illusion magic…

And those noble ladies, wives, even maid colleagues—how thirsty they got around handsome lords? Iris knew too well.

Nothing yet, maybe. But under relentless “bombardment,” could Luke resist? Worse—nobles ditching original partners after rising was routine…

[I must investigate thoroughly. I won’t fail Lady Elia’s trust again!]

Iris left, fired up.

Door shut, soundproof barrier up (blocking all but knocks), the pink-haired girl threw her head back and cackled. “This time, I win!”

Fact: Charlie was Messiah’s top combatant—rivaling even the Archbishop. With him crushed so decisively, no one else could touch Luke unless Elia fought personally.

But Saintess Elia—embodiment of sanctity, nobility, power, mercy, grace—would never stoop to brawling a Hero. Too undignified, too risky, too image-damaging.

She refused to dirty her hands or risk upset. Win lying down. Fight only tailwinds. That was her creed. Hence her rage at Charlie’s “betrayal.”

Martial route dead—but civil war? Still on.

Especially seeing Iris’s romance-brain, inspiration struck—echoing her old takedown of the second prince.

Misunderstanding? The prince was a womanizer with Cao Cao-level ambition.

But he hid it well—never dumb enough to film or cuckold in plain sight.

He wouldn’t record? She’d do it for him. Too cautious for daylight debauchery? She’d grant “courage” buffs like Liang Jingru. Reputation too high for ladies to approach? Minor fix—make him more charming, them bolder, hornier.

In buff and support magic, Elia was a virtuoso.

Thus, she’d reuse the playbook.

Scenario 1: Iris uncovers a past lover. Jackpot. Snap the “cheating” scene, pair with a tear-jerking sob-story essay, blast kingdom-wide. Public crucifixion.

Scenario 2: No past lover. No problem. “Gently” encourage a swarm of noblewomen and maids to launch a love tsunami. When ripe—she leads the raid, catches him in flagrante, floods the realm with scandalous illusion-photos. He becomes a pariah. At the king’s confrontation, she fake-pleads mercy. Exile guaranteed.

Picturing the jerk Hero ruined, still apologizing to her—Elia felt refreshed.

[Dare upset this super-invincible beauty? This is your fate!]

That night, dreaming of Luke’s future misery, Elia slept beautifully.