TPWTL 06

“#6. So? Doesn’t It Sound Familiar?”

Following Cryer’s gaze, Olivia saw rows of knights standing solemnly, their faces filled with resolve. Leaders from each nation—kings, prime ministers, and others—stood a few steps back, nodding approvingly at the sight of the knights.

“If only they could act this united during the Continental War… Sigh.”

Olivia let out a frustrated sigh but had, at the very least, achieved what she wanted. Even if what she’d managed to grab was just the hem of a trouser leg…

“With this, I declare the Continental Conference adjourned.”

With Olivia’s clear voice, the hastily organized Continental Conference for World Peace came to a close—leaving behind several unresolved issues.

Two days after Cryer arrived in the Empire…
Olivia still hadn’t had the chance to speak privately with him. She simply hadn’t found the time to be alone with him.

“So, the reason you summoned all the continent’s leaders to the Imperial Palace is…”

“For world peace.”

“Princess.”

“Your Majesty, have I ever done anything reckless?”

Of course not. Olivia had never taken the initiative in anything before, preferring to quietly fulfill her duties as princess. The Emperor nodded toward her, filled with trust.

“I will place my faith in you.”

And so, without a proper explanation but with unwavering confidence, Olivia was entrusted with everything related to Cryer—or more specifically, the people she had brought to the meeting. Having received the approval of the Emperor, the greatest hurdle was behind her. Now, it was time to deal with the smaller details.

“You there?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Prepare the vacant western wings of the palace for lodging. Arrange the rooms according to the diplomatic relations of each nation.”

“Yes, I will organize everything accordingly.”

“Immediately.”

“Pardon?”

“Go now. No need to follow me around.”

Olivia dismissed her aide and attendants and walked off alone. She was going to see Cryer—no need to bring a crowd along. No matter how tight-lipped they might be, a secret is only safe when buried. She had called him into a secret room recklessly the first time, but there was no need for such impulsiveness anymore.

“Your Highness.”

Olivia halted as a figure appeared in front of her. A man suddenly emerged and approached with an exaggerated bow.

“I suppose even the gods recognized my devotion, as I have been seeking Your Highness ever since I first laid eyes on you.”

Olivia silently stared at him. Gaining confidence from her silence, he exhaled and bowed again—this time even more flamboyantly—and extended his hand.

“May I have the honor of introducing myself?”

Olivia looked at his hand, then straightened her back and raised her chin. A bright smile spread across her face, prompting him to smile too, but—

“I refuse.”

“Pardon me? I am—”

Before he could finish, Olivia’s smile grew sharper.

“I don’t know who you are, and I never will. Leave.”

Her voice chilled to the bone. Suddenly, the small princess seemed like an unscalable mountain. Olivia took a step forward, eyes fixed on the stunned man.

“You will never appear before me again.”

He opened his mouth but was unable to speak, suffocated by fear. He stumbled backward and quickly fled. Once he was gone, Olivia brushed off her stiff shoulders. She had expected some bothersome people to appear—but one that foolish? Scowling, she sensed a voice quietly flowing across the floor from behind her.

“That’s quite a change from how you were with me. You’re every bit a true Imperial Princess.”

Cryer stepped out from behind a pillar.

“Well, obviously. That guy’s not even worth knowing. If you were watching, why didn’t you help?”

“I was going to.”

“And?”

“It ended too quickly. Besides, if I get involved, there’s always blood.”

“What? Blood? That’s… wait, no, good thing you didn’t help. But still, it didn’t have to come to that. Just injure a limb or two. Why are you so obsessed with blood?”

“You say such brutal things with such innocent eyes. And for the record, I’m not the one obsessed with blood.”

Cryer, who had been leaning against the pillar, straightened up and stepped forward. His shadow slowly stretched toward Olivia’s under the soft afternoon light. As he came to stand before her, his dark, sunken eyes simmered with hatred and rage.

“The one who wants to drown the world in blood is the master of this cursed contract. The ancient god.”

Meanwhile, back in the royal palace of Norden…
The Crown Prince sat face-to-face with Greta.

“Everything will be okay now, as long as you listen to me.”

Greta smiled gently and stroked the prince’s head.

“Mm.”

Like a child, he rubbed his face against her skirt and responded obediently. Greta continued stroking his head with care.

“Your father treated you harshly, but I won’t. There’s no need.”

“G-Greta is… b-better…”

“Yes. I’m better than your father in every way.”

Everything. Be it people, magic, or contracts.

“Soon, everything will be over.”

“Over?”

“Yes. You’ll join the god’s embrace. With everyone else.”

“G-Greta too?”

“No. I won’t be going.”

Greta lowered her hand from his head and covered his eyes. The pressure on his eyeballs made him feel like they would burst, but the prince didn’t resist. With her usual gentle smile, Greta spoke as if singing.

“Because I’ll be staying behind with my beloved Cryer. Just the two of us. In a purified world.”

Back in the Empire…
Cryer and Olivia stepped outside to a secluded part of the palace.

“No one comes here.”

Cryer glanced around skeptically at Olivia’s confident declaration.

“How did you find a place like this?”

“I had to survive somehow. I’ve run through every corner of the palace.”

“Aren’t there secret rooms or passages for royalty?”

“There are. But after seeing how one of them collapsed from just one swing of your sword, I stopped trusting them.”

Olivia sighed and flicked her hand dramatically.

“You sure died in a lot of ways.”

“Why are you suddenly moving away?”

“Just remembering how many times you’ve killed me.”

“For someone who’s died so many times, you’ve gotten remarkably cheeky—or rather, you were cheeky from the start.”

“Once you die and come back, you realize it’s better to just say what needs to be said.”

“You came back from the dead…”

“I told you—I died by your hand and returned to the past.”

Olivia counted on her fingers but stopped with a shiver. Reliving her deaths—especially in front of the one who caused them—was foolish.

“Whew… whew!”

Taking a deep breath, Olivia beat her chest to steady herself.

“Alright. Now tell me about that crazy—no, the bloody massacre—no, the war. I mean the contract.”

Though she stumbled over her words, she got the point across. Cryer leaned against the mossy wall, arms crossed. The coldness of the stone seeped into his back—much better than lukewarm comfort.

Silence fell, heavy like the calm before a storm. The gentle breeze that had tickled their cheeks turned erratic, and Olivia’s lips began to turn blue from a chill she couldn’t explain. When her breath turned white despite the warmth…

“The contract—”

Cryer’s throat trembled, and Olivia swallowed hard. This was the clue she needed to survive!

“W-what?”

Suddenly, her vision went dark, her body swaying backward against her will. She felt a large hand over her eyes and traced it with her fingers—coarse and calloused.

“What are you doing?”

Cryer, his hand still over her eyes, spoke softly.

“It’s not such a grand story. No need for such bright eyes.”

“What?”

He let go and continued.

“It’s simple. A mad wizard made a contract with an ancient god and resurrected a dead man. That man, once revived, was enslaved to the god.”

His voice, like his darkened eyes, was bone-dry.

“That slave, following his master’s will, would bathe the world in blood in the name of ‘purification.’ In other words, the world’s end.”

Olivia’s eyelashes trembled like dandelion seeds in a breeze. Cryer’s lips curled.

“So? Doesn’t it sound familiar? A mad wizard, a demon king, the world ending… Sounds like something from a fairy tale, doesn’t it?”

“B-but… But in those stories, the hero always wins.”

“Exactly. Because those are stories. This is reality—no heroes here. Just a blood-drenched slave raising his arms and howling.”

Cryer laughed bitterly. Could that even be called a howl? No—it was a scream. A wail of anguish. He gripped his branded collarbone tightly—the brand that would never disappear, no matter how deep he scraped.

He wanted to escape. He desperately wanted to break free from the chains of slavery. But reality blocked his way like a wall of sorrow. A wall he couldn’t climb, break, or pass through.

So instead of freedom, he began to long for the end.

But even that end was like crawling through a tunnel with severed limbs—dark and never-ending.

Silence fell once more between Cryer and Olivia.

And then—

“What… are you doing?”