#73. We Must Purify the World
The instant the muscles on the man’s back twitched, Greta’s thorns bristled with warning, and the man froze in place, mouth agape.
It should have been pain so excruciating that his whole body convulsed, but whether it was Greta’s warning or the influence of the brand, he could do absolutely nothing.
Was his flesh being ripped apart, his insides chewed bit by bit, or seared by fire?
Or was it all happening at once?
The strange pain and revulsion, unlike anything he had ever felt before, burst blood vessels in his eyes with soft pop, pop sounds.
How long had it lasted?
As his consciousness floated away from reality, a dreadful voice of unknown meaning echoed in his ears.
“Ugh—huff!”
The man collapsed to the ground, and steam rose from his twitching back.
Looking down at him, Greta dragged both hands over her face, as if she had aged twenty years in a moment, and let out a long sigh.
On the surface, it looked like a success. But the true effect of the brand could only be known to the branded one. So Greta asked in a weary voice:
“Thyssen.”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel?”
At her question, Thyssen—the man who was now a slave of the Old God—lowered his gaze to his palms.
The ugly scars from burns and the calluses that had hardened so much they no longer hurt remained unchanged.
But within his slowly clenched fist flowed a power he had never imagined possible.
It coursed through his veins, awakening every organ inside his body.
Clenching his fist tightly, Thyssen spoke his truth.
“…It feels good.”
Simple words, but exactly the answer Greta had wanted.
No questions asked. Only wholehearted submission and gratitude for the power granted.
“Good. And how does it feel to have your dream come true?”
“That too feels good.”
Without hesitation, his answer made Greta’s lips curl into a snake-like grin.
The tool before her had willingly chosen to receive the Old God’s brand.
Then, naturally, he must do what was required for the god.
“You know what your task is.”
“Yes. I must purify the world.”
The eyes of Thyssen, now stained a deep crimson, gleamed only with madness.
It was not faith in God, but a craving for chaos and terror—that Greta well knew.
But she didn’t care.
He was a tool, to be used and discarded. As long as he served his purpose, what he thought mattered little.
Though he bore the same brand as Cryer, he was nothing compared to him.
This “tool” too was destined to be purified.
And Thyssen knew that truth, yet still accepted the brand and offered himself to the god.
Like Bonita, the Marchioness of Heindel, who chose to burn the world despite her noble station, Thyssen too harbored a sticky, festering darkness deep inside—and longed to see the world burn.
“All things are as the god wills.”
“As the god wills.”
In the darkening temple underground, the brand carved on Thyssen’s back pulsed faintly.
After a short but intense mission abroad, Olivia returned to the imperial palace and stood before the Emperor.
“There will be no more ghost disturbances.”
“Good. You handled it cleanly once again.”
The Emperor did not press for details. He trusted Olivia to have taken care of everything.
And Olivia, too, spared him the explanations—simply nodding lightly.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”
“Princess.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
After a moment of silence, the weary Emperor rubbed the corners of his eyes and asked:
“What do you think of Marquis Heindel?”
“I still can’t tell what he’s plotting, but I’m certain he’s scheming something.”
It was a vague answer, but the Emperor nodded.
“Indeed. He’s not the sort to simply raise his voice to expand his family’s influence.”
“More than that, it seems he’s taken a particular dislike to me.”
Saying it aloud, Olivia realized something with clarity:
All the Marquis’s recent troublesome actions were connected to her.
Starting with his accusations involving Cryer, to criticizing the order in her palace, to even meddling in Norden’s diplomatic affairs—he had targeted her openly.
In her previous life, the Marquis’s end had left her uneasy, but never once had he acted so loudly and brazenly.
True, since her regression, her own changes had spurred others to act differently. But unlike Bonita, who had thrown herself obsessively into one cause, Heindel had never been this blatant.
Reasonably, then, she could suspect… Bonita Heindel.
“Hmm. That could become a problem. Perhaps you should speak with the Marquis.”
The Emperor’s suggestion, though phrased as advice, was in truth a command. Olivia smiled faintly.
“I will obey, Your Majesty.”
With a nod, the Emperor silently dismissed her. Olivia was just leaving when his casual voice stopped her.
“Your leg seems better now.”
Olivia smiled faintly in response.
“Yes. Someone has been helping me. I can manage short walks.”
The Emperor knew the “someone” was none other than Cryer—the knight Olivia had impulsively brought into the council chamber and never let out of her sight. But he only nodded.
The quiet trust and concern in his words made Olivia smile openly as she left the office.
Olivia had barely stepped outside when Cryer swept her up in his arms. She naturally wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Were you waiting long?”
“No.”
At his sharp denial, Olivia blinked, wide-eyed. Cryer chuckled and added:
“I heard your footsteps and came straight from the Princess’s palace.”
“Uh… right.”
She could have asked how he heard her steps from that far, or how he arrived so quickly. But she didn’t.
If it was Cryer, such things were possible.
Back in her office at the Princess’s palace, Olivia immediately checked on Suga.
The child was still lying with eyes closed, just as she had last seen him.
After a glance, Olivia recounted her conversation with the Emperor to Cryer.
“…So I think we need to investigate Marquis Heindel. Maybe I’m overthinking, but he seems tied to Norden somehow. Or maybe he just doesn’t like this version of me.”
“Heindel? That was Bonita Heindel, wasn’t it?”
“Mm. You remembered?”
It surprised her that Cryer knew of an imperial noble, but he replied matter-of-factly:
“You mentioned her before.”
“Oh, right… I did complain about her.”
Olivia scratched her cheek sheepishly. Cryer let out a quiet sigh.
With so few memories of his past, he couldn’t fully understand the feelings he had for the woman who had stolen his heart so quickly.
All he knew was his desire to stay by her side.
Though he couldn’t yet name his emotions…
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“That I remember everything you’ve said.”
Cryer’s lowered voice carried like a whisper.
Another might have blushed or felt their heart flutter. But Olivia, her focus already on Suga, only shrugged.
“You’ve got a really good memory. I can’t even remember what I said a few days ago.”
Her utterly oblivious reply made Cryer sigh deeply and step back.
“…If you say so.”
“I do say so! You should just accept a compliment when you hear one.”
Even so, she patted his arm lightly, as if reassuring him. Then she tilted her head as she looked down at Suga, who remained motionless.
His face was delicate, like a well-crafted doll. But knowing he was a boy, even the ornate dress he wore didn’t make him look like a girl.
“How is he? Has he stayed like this?”
“Yes. He hasn’t woken once.”
Because of the circumstances of bringing him here, Olivia had kept Suga in her office, hidden from others’ eyes.
Sitting close beside him, Olivia asked without looking away:
“Did you see any outward signs?”
“No.”
“As I thought. Then he’ll have to wake up before we can ask or confirm anything—ah!”
Without warning, Suga’s eyes flew open.
Olivia nearly leapt out of her chair, but Cryer steadied her with a hand to her back, keeping her from toppling over, and looked down at the boy.
“You’re awake.”
Cryer’s calm words left Olivia suspicious.
“…Is he really awake? He’s not blinking, not looking around—”
Before she could finish, Suga slowly blinked, then turned his head with the same sluggishness.
His deep crimson eyes met Olivia’s. Her earlier shock was gone, replaced with a cool, frosty composure.
“…Suga Lewyr?”
But the boy only blinked again. Olivia frowned slightly and pressed the back of her head against Cryer’s chest.
“Do his eyes look focused to you?”
“No.”
“Then he’s not really awake, is he?”
At his reply, Olivia sighed softly.
“It’s hard enough to keep a straight face around children. But if I don’t know when he’ll truly wake, I have to keep this stern face the whole time…”
“Shall I take over?”
