#78. Meeting You Changed Me
A heavy silence hung between Olivia and Cryer as they returned to the office.
Both were lost in their own thoughts.
Olivia was turning over various possibilities on what to do about Shuga, while Cryer was…
“…You said it changed.”
His sudden, out-of-context words were still clear enough that Olivia immediately understood what he meant—
especially since his hand was gripping her collarbone as though he meant to crush it.
“You said the mark was originally on him. But when Shuga was born, it shifted.”
Those dark red eyes sank deeper and deeper. Meeting them head-on, Olivia rose to her feet without hesitation.
Her ankle was still wrapped in bandages, but she ignored it. Standing on tiptoe, she gently laid her hand on the blue-veined back of his.
“Yes. The brand moved from the older brother to the younger.”
Speaking softly, she slowly guided his hand down.
The moment her hand touched his, all the strength drained from his grip. His fingers followed her warmth downward before finally curling around it, clutching it as though afraid it might vanish.
The air that had bristled with his sharp hostility gradually eased. Only then did Olivia pull her hand away, tapping her temple lightly as she spoke again.
“The brand is one thing, but there’s something else that’s even more questionable.”
A spark lit up in her blue eyes as her tongue brushed across her lower lip.
“The Ruwir family made a deal with an ancient god. Then what about the magician?”
“Ah… yes. We’ll have to find out what kind of connection the magician had with that being.”
Quick to catch her meaning, Cryer’s answer was steady. Olivia pressed on immediately.
“Exactly. Until now, we’ve thought of the magician and his daughter as priests—worshippers of the ancient god. But what if they weren’t? What if they too only made a deal?”
She spun her fingers absentmindedly, tilting her head as though replaying countless silent negotiations in her mind.
Could the clues they’d found lead to a way to change Cryer’s brand?
Brand, ancient god, deal, slave, magician, substitute, price…
Words swirled through Olivia’s mind only to vanish again into mist.
The vague feeling of being so close yet unable to grasp the truth made her tap the armrest impatiently. Before Cryer could say anything, she spoke first.
“A deal requires an exchange. If so, what did the ancient god gain in its deal with the magician? That nonsense about ‘purification of the world’? Then what did the magician gain? But wait—the magician is dead. So who exactly did the god make its deal with? Could it be the magician’s—”
“Enough.”
Cryer’s hand pressed against her lips, cutting off her frantic muttering.
His rough, dry palm blocked her breath, then slowly slid downward, tracing her lips before lingering along her jaw.
“Breathe first.”
Only then did Olivia draw in a deliberate breath. She exhaled just as heavily, shaking her head in defeat.
“I’m so anxious…”
The unguarded confession slipped out before she realized it. Cryer silently reached for her again.
She didn’t resist as he pulled her into his firm embrace. Olivia buried her face against his shoulder, holding her breath. Then, lowering her head, she pressed her palms to his chest to push him away.
She didn’t want to see his face right now—no, she didn’t want him to see hers.
Until now, Cryer had always been the one shaken, while Olivia was the one who steadied him. But now, for the first time, it was Olivia who was wavering.
“When I saw the illusion… that moment. When I saw the blade aimed at me, I thought—ah, I failed again.”
Back when the imperial palace collapsed and the ground quaked from every direction, Olivia hadn’t gnashed her teeth with determination like before. She had resigned herself.
Only at the very end did she realize the man before her wasn’t Cryer, and shattered the illusion. Yet even so, the vivid sensation of that blade still gnawed at her unease.
What if it happens again? What if, even with Cryer beside her, she fails once more?
Would there even be a next time? And if there was—what then?
She was terrified whether there was no next time, or whether there was.
Could she really strip away the shackle—the curse—that man who had killed her again and again once claimed was unbreakable?
She had vowed to fight the magician, since she could not fight a god. She had vowed that this time, she would survive.
That was why she had drawn Cryer into this.
But had anything truly changed from her previous lives?
Even the traces of the ancient god they’d stumbled across—weren’t they all accidents? And even those traces offered no solutions, only theories and guesswork.
Perhaps it was inevitable.
She hadn’t even known of the ancient gods’ existence until she met Cryer.
And gods—could they even be fought or prepared against?
Still, no matter the excuse, the truth was…
“There’s nothing.”
The words slipped from her dry lips. Saying them aloud made the despair sting sharper.
But the thought consumed her so completely that she couldn’t hold it in.
Staring blankly at her empty hands, Olivia muttered:
“I have nothing to hold. Nothing at all. What if I keep failing, again and again…”
Her trembling hands betrayed her voice. Cryer pulled her close from behind, wrapping his arms around her.
Knowing she didn’t want him to see her face, he embraced her from the back and whispered low.
“It isn’t luck or fate. What you’ve gained, you’ve seized with these hands.”
He turned her palm upward and clasped it tightly in his own, looking down at the much smaller hand that fit inside his.
“If you hadn’t saved that woman from Tarenga, would we have ever learned of the missing servants? If you hadn’t taken Isaac in, would we have ever discovered the existence of a branded child?”
His fingers laced with hers so her palm no longer felt empty.
“And if you hadn’t reached for me, I’d still be clawing at the bottom of hell.”
“B-but even now, nothing’s really changed—”
“It has. Completely.”
The brand carved into his collarbone still burned clear as ever. He was still a slave to the ancient god.
And yet Cryer’s voice was raw, genuine—like he would split open his chest just to show her his heart.
Because I met you.
Because I took your hand.
Because I stayed by your side.
I…
Ah. How much I’ve been saved.
Nothing about the situation had changed. Yet the simple fact that Olivia was at his side let him breathe again, kept the rot from consuming him whole.
So please—believe me. Please, know this. Please, let this one truth reach you.
“Meeting you changed me.”
The deep, unshakable voice brushed against her ear. Olivia’s chest rose and fell heavily as she exhaled, as though those words were her very breath.
In that moment, they became each other’s air.
Olivia glanced down at her hands, still empty—yet somehow, just for now, they didn’t feel that way. She whispered:
“Just a little longer… let me stay like this.”
Her voice was barely audible, but Cryer pulled her even closer, resting his face against her shoulder.
They stayed like that for a long time, leaning into each other’s warmth and hearts.
Several days passed. Shuga, with no place to go, remained silently in the princess’s palace.
Olivia, her bandages now removed, glanced down at her ankle and murmured:
“It looks thinner somehow.”
“That’s because you haven’t been using it. Walk properly for a while and it’ll return to normal.”
Cryer had approached without a sound. His hand brushed along her ankle, skimming her ankle bone, and the ticklish sensation made Olivia curl her back and tense her foot.
He stared intently at her pale foot, blue veins faintly visible beneath the skin, before finally letting it go.
“So, where are you headed today?”
“What? I didn’t even say I was going anywhere—how did you know?”
Startled, Olivia glanced down at her clothes, but they were the same as always. Nothing about her attire suggested she was going out.
“I’ve been watching you.”
His casual reply made her pause mid-nod.
…So he’s been watching me this whole time? Why?
Ah. She remembered falling asleep in his arms days ago—completely out, like a child soothed after a tantrum. Her face heated at the memory and she waved her hand dismissively.
“I’m fine now. That was just… a moment of weakness.”
She wasn’t a child, yet in her anxious unrest she had drifted into sleep, just like Shuga. The next morning, she had woken tangled in sheets, mortified.
Cryer studied her silently, lips parting as if to say something before closing again.
He wanted to tell her—Even without a reason, I’m always watching you.
But Olivia, whether consciously or unconsciously, avoided any closeness that carried “that” meaning. If he said it, she’d startle like a rabbit and run. If he didn’t, then all he could do was sigh. Better to remain silent.
“Ahem. Anyway, I’m not disguising myself today. I’ll dress properly—we’re going to the Marquis of Hainder’s estate.”
“To investigate, as you said.”
“Even if it weren’t His Majesty’s order, I’d still need to go.”
Olivia suddenly leaned in slightly, lowering her voice.
“Don’t you think the Marquis of Hainder is definitely connected to the ancient god?”
“There’s no one around. You don’t need to whisper.”
“I know. But still—the Marquis of Hainder, tied to an ancient god? That’s…”
She broke off, then dropped her voice to almost nothing.
“Not just a little dangerous. Extremely dangerous.”
