TPWTL 04

#4. I Don’t Know Either, My Hand Just Moved.

A few minutes before the news of the King of Norden’s death broke in the conference hall, Olivia was swallowing nervously. Cryer was so overwhelming, she felt like she could faint at any moment. He looked into her trembling blue eyes, swaying like reeds in a storm, and then opened his mouth.

“This contract…”

Just as he was about to speak about his slave contract—
Knock knock.
Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.

“Your Highness! Your Highness!”

Even though she had clearly ordered not to be disturbed, hurried knocking and an even more urgent servant’s voice rang out inside the sealed chamber. Olivia and Cryer both turned toward the door, then looked back at each other.

“Your Highness! I beg your pardon, but th-there’s an emergency!”

“It seems so.”

“We should get up.”

Though they spoke as if they had planned it, their actions didn’t match. Olivia tried to stand but struggled to find strength in her legs, while Cryer merely watched her silently.
Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.
The knocking became more frantic, prompting Olivia to move her lips and finally reach out her hand toward Cryer.

“Help me up.”

“You said you’d help me.”

“That’s that, and this is this. Just help me up for now.”

Despite flinching whenever he made the slightest move or growl, Olivia still managed to brazenly speak her mind. Cryer chuckled.

“Fair enough.”

He lifted her up in one swift motion, and she stomped her shaky legs like a newborn fawn trying to find its footing.

“Can you walk?”

“I can manage that much.”

“Your Highness!”

If she delayed any longer, the servant might die just from calling for her, so Olivia gathered her strength and moved toward the door.
Click.
Through the open door, she saw the servant’s expression—a blank face tinged with panic.

“Your Highness?”

“Yes. What’s happened to cause such a commotion?”

Her calm voice, perfectly matching the dignity of a princess of the Empire, seemed to settle the servant slightly. He responded in a quieter voice.

“His Majesty, the King of Norden, has passed away.”

Olivia’s gaze wavered anxiously as she looked down at the bowed head of the servant.
The King of Norden is dead? He’s dead…? What?
The man who declared war in all four of my past lives before this fifth regression?
While the details changed with each regression, the death of the King of Norden wasn’t a trivial matter… was it?

As confusion consumed her, Cryer’s approaching presence behind her made her shoulders stiffen in tension.

“Is that true?”

In the same low tone he used as a knight, Cryer asked the servant. The reply was simple.

“Yes, it is.”

Olivia turned quickly to look at Cryer after hearing his response.

“I see.”

“…That’s it? Never mind. Let’s go.”

Olivia swallowed the urge to question his lack of reaction and signaled the servant to lead the way. As she walked, she glanced at Cryer.
The King of Norden just died, yet he didn’t even blink.
If he were a true knight, he should be outraged and storming out. But Cryer wasn’t like that. Still… no reaction at all?

Weren’t they allies on the same side after all…?
Olivia bit the inside of her cheek.
No… The King of Norden had nothing to do with this war.
With that conclusion, the tension in her body deflated.
A death or two is insignificant compared to the casualties of war—especially someone unrelated to the main conflict.

“This is the place.”

Regardless of her thoughts, the servant faithfully guided them to their destination. Soon, they stood before the gruesome corpse of the King of Norden.
A sharp piece of decoration was embedded in the back of his neck. Eyes wide open, as if taken completely by surprise, blood still trickled beneath him, forming a crimson pool.

“What happened here?”

Though shocked by the brutal scene, Olivia quickly masked her expression and examined the body closely. Cryer, too, was surveying not just the body but the entire surroundings.
Olivia checked his pulse and eyes and shook her head.

“Not even the best healer could save him now.”

She gestured toward the servant waiting nearby.

“What happened?”

“It appears he slipped and fell on the stairs.”

“‘Appears’?”

“Yes.”

Olivia tilted her head.

“What did his attendants say?”

“He had requested to be alone, so everyone stepped out.”

“So in the end, there’s no clear answer.”

“I apologize.”

“Clean this up.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

While the servants began tidying the scene, Olivia approached Cryer, who was inspecting the floor near the top of the stairs.

“They’re saying it was an accident.”

“…I doubt it.”

“Doubt again?”

“Has anything like this happened before?”

By “before,” he probably meant in previous lives. Olivia shook her head.

“No. But I told you—aside from major events, details can change any time.”

“Then this must not have been a major event.”

“Maybe…? Odd, though. While you always started the war, the declaration itself always came from the King of Norden.”

“He was just a puppet.”

“Right, that makes sen—wait a second. From your tone, you don’t sound like his puppet.”

Cryer’s lips twisted slightly.

“A puppet controlling another puppet—what a delightful sight. But no, I wasn’t one.”

“Then who?”

“More importantly, has the flooring or staircase been recently renovated for the conference?”

Thrown off by the sudden change in topic, Olivia blinked for a moment, then shook her head.

“There wasn’t enough time.”

“Impossible. Even if we tore up the whole palace and redid the floors, it’d only take a day or two. They just didn’t bother because it wasn’t necessary.”

This was an imperial villa. If the emperor gave an order, even a mountain could be moved overnight. Renovating a single building wasn’t a big deal. Time constraints could easily be solved by allocating more labor and resources—resources the Empire had in abundance.

“Why? You think he slipped on the floor and fell, even though he was perfectly healthy?”

Olivia crouched next to Cryer, who was kneeling and inspecting the floor. She looked closely too, but to her eyes, it was just a regular surface. The tiles weren’t to her taste, but they matched the décor overall.

“No, it’s the top of the stairs. They even added anti-slip material here. And even if he did slip, someone healthy would’ve grabbed the railing.”

Her eyes followed his gaze. Sure enough, the railing was exactly where it should’ve been.

“So, what you’re saying is…”

“More likely an assassination disguised as an accident.”

Olivia tilted her head and asked:

“Was it necessary to assassinate the King of Norden?”

Again, she didn’t get an answer.

“…It was him.”

“‘Him’?”

Crack.
The grinding sound of teeth made Olivia flinch like a speared tuna. Though she was too afraid to look directly at Cryer, she had to ask.

“Wh-who is… ‘him’?”

“A magician.”

“A magician? Then—wait, the slave… that is, the contract…”

“Yes. It was him.”

Cryer touched the brand on his collarbone—the slave’s seal invisible to everyone else.

“…you will… his… and soon the world will…”

Fragmented memories floated up from the void, bringing with them a chilling wind. And in the next moment—

“…What are you doing?”

Cryer looked down at the soft, small hand hesitantly resting on his own.

“I… um…”

Olivia couldn’t answer properly, but continued to awkwardly pat the back of his hand. As his eyes narrowed, she blurted out:

“I don’t know either, my hand just moved.”

She pursed her lips as if dumbfounded by her own words but said nothing more. She hadn’t lied even once since meeting Cryer—and she wasn’t lying now.
Without time to think or reason, she had simply found herself patting his hand, like one would to comfort a child. It wasn’t an answer, but Cryer didn’t question her. Nor did he shake her off, twist her wrist, or cut her hand. He just watched.

A dove… wasn’t that what she called herself? A dove of peace.
A woman trying to stop a war in order to survive.

“You’re not… an actual dove, are you?”

“I’m human! A human, thank you very much!”

But why…
Ever since his resurrection and enslavement by that insane magician, Cryer had grown repulsed by human touch. He didn’t recoil completely, but the lukewarm warmth of others irritated him.
Maybe it was because of the seal—meant to bring warmth to a long-dead body.

And yet, oddly enough…
It wasn’t unpleasant. Not even a little.

“You call yourself human?”

“I’ve said it multiple times—yes! I only used ‘dove’ as a metaphor for peace! For world peace!”

Even her chattering voice wasn’t so bad to listen to.
A faint, oddly twisted smile appeared on Cryer’s lips.

“A human, huh…”

“I keep telling you—I am! I’ve regressed many times, but I’ve never turned into a bird…”

Cryer gazed deeply into Olivia’s bright, clear blue eyes.

“…Not bad at all.”

His quietly scattered voice didn’t reach Olivia.
But to Cryer, the words rang loud and clear.
Yes. The warmth from Olivia’s hand was… truly not bad.