The possessed Saintess

~2~

As she entered the ballroom, a hushed murmur swept through the crowd like a whispering wind. The guests, nobles, and dignitaries alike, turned their heads to catch a glimpse of the well-known Saintess, a figure they had come to associate with plainness and soft-heartedness. But what they saw was a revelation, a young woman who exuded strength, confidence, and a stunning beauty that left them in awe.

Alya moved with an elegance and grace that seemed to defy the very essence of her previous identity. The dazzling gown she wore only heightened the effect, its golden and white hues casting a radiant glow around her. The crowd couldn't help but watch in astonishment as she pushed her way through the numerous guests, her presence commanding attention and respect.

Finally, Alya arrived at the heart of the ballroom, where her family stood. The moment had come for her to confront them, to face the past that had haunted her for so long. She stood before them, a vision of strength and determination, ready to unveil her newfound self and take her first steps toward the revenge she had long desired.

"Mother, father,"

Alya greeted her parents with a tone that was as cold as ice, her voice devoid of the warmth and affection that had once defined their relationship. Her gaze, once filled with filial piety, now held a steely resolve as she locked eyes with her family.

Turning her attention to her brother Richard, Alya's expression transformed. She donned the brightest smile, a facade that concealed her true feelings beneath a veneer of false charm.

"Congratulations, dear brother,"

she said, her voice sweet and saccharine, a stark contrast to her earlier coldness.

"May God be with you on all your ways."

With a practiced grace, Alya folded her hands in front of her, her posture a picture of elegance and courtesy. The words, though polite, carried an underlying sense of irony and bitterness that only those who knew the family's history could fully grasp.

Richard, clearly taken aback by Alya's unexpected appearance and demeanor, could only manage a curt response.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped at her, his voice tinged with anger and suspicion.

Alya, feigning deep hurt and betrayal, took a few steps back, creating distance between herself and her family. It was a performance she had rehearsed in her mind countless times, a carefully orchestrated act to conceal her true intentions and emotions.

"What kind of question is that, brother?"

Alya retorted, her voice now raised and dripping with feigned innocence.

"Of course, I'm here to congratulate you on your birthday. Are you not happy to see me?"

Her words, intentionally loud and filled with mock enthusiasm, were designed to draw the attention of those around them. Alya's eyes flickered with a sneaky smile as she relished the success of her calculated move.

People in the vicinity began to turn their heads, their curiosity piqued by the sudden exchange between the once-beloved Saintess and her brother. The atmosphere in the room grew tense, as guests exchanged furtive glances and whispered speculations.

But Richard, unable to contain his anger and resentment any longer, erupted in a fit of rage. His voice thundered through the room as he shouted at Alya, his words a venomous rebuke.

"CAN'T YOU TAKE A HINT? GET OUT OF HERE NOW, YOU WITCH. AND DON'T EVER CALL ME YOUR BROTHER AGAIN. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

The venom in his words cut through the air like a blade, leaving no room for doubt about the deep-seated animosity between them. Alya had succeeded in her plan to publicly confront her family, and the consequences of her actions were unfolding before the eyes of the startled onlookers.