TPWTL 02

2. Do We Still Need to Beat Around the Bush When We Both Know Everything?

And as Olivia’s eyes fixated on that knight, so too did the gazes of everyone gathered there follow. Hair as brilliantly silver as moonlight, seemingly reflecting every bit of light, and deep crimson eyes half-lidded with indifference. A sharply defined nose, a jawline that looked carved by blade, and tightly pressed lips exuded an odd pressure.

“Phew…”

His appearance was certainly worth the stares… but to stare for this long without averting their eyes? That was something else. Olivia, a princess of the Empire and one of the most beautiful women on the continent, elegant and graceful with no rumors of romantic entanglements—was she now captivated at first sight by a mere knight? If that were true… the balance of power on the continent could shift overnight.

Just as dry gulps echoed among the crowd, an Imperial official raised their hand and began to speak. And thus, amid a terribly awkward atmosphere, the meeting proceeded.

“…Therefore, we express opposition to the proposal…”

No matter what was being said, Olivia’s attention remained completely on Cryer. And she didn’t even try to hide it. Even if she attempted to secretly observe him, there’s no way Cryer wouldn’t notice her stare. So why bother hiding it? Might as well broadcast it loud and clear. I’m extremely interested in that man!
There wasn’t a soul in the room unaware of Princess Olivia’s attention.

But for her—an imperial princess—to be so completely focused on a mere knight from a remote kingdom…? That knight, Cryer, would surely be cautious. He wouldn’t dare act recklessly or start a war here and now. After all, the continental war was still a few months away. So, the rumors spawned by her bold behavior could serve as a lifeline, a buffer for negotiations or conversation with him.

Well, unless the madman suddenly lost his mind and cut her down right here, soaking the room in blood…
That was beyond her control.

Olivia clenched her fists. Her manicured nails dug into her palms painfully, but the pain helped dull her overwhelming fear toward Cryer. Taking a deep breath, Olivia raised her hand, still staring straight at him. The heated debate in the room abruptly died down with just her gesture.

“We’ve gotten a bit too heated. Let’s take a short break and resume after.”

Even before finishing her sentence, Olivia stood and walked briskly toward Cryer. Whether people gasped or covered their mouths in shock, none of it registered in her eyes. All she could see was Cryer, seated with his gaze lowered and his expression utterly indifferent to the world.

Tap. Tap tap tap.
The closer she got, the faster her steps became. Drawing all eyes in the room, Olivia finally stopped right in front of him and opened her mouth.

“Come with me.”

No formalities, no greetings, no introduction. Olivia got straight to the point. People gasped in shock, but she paid them no mind. She focused only on Cryer.

Across several regressions and numerous continental wars, Olivia had gained some information—no real answers about who Cryer was or where he came from, or how he was so powerful, but small details, like his preferences. He didn’t like people who talked too much. “Keep it brief,” he once said.

She didn’t have the luxury to worry about anything else. Olivia had been killed by his hands no fewer than four times in previous lives. Without exception, always by him. She now had to fight the overwhelming urge to clutch her very much alive neck.

When she finally reached him—steps as heavy as iron—someone else blocked her path.

“Your Highness, Princess.”

“Your Majesty of Norden…”

Olivia acknowledged the King of Norden automatically but kept her eyes fixed on Cryer. No—she couldn’t look away. She felt like even a single moment away from him would mean losing her life.

The King of Norden looked between the stiffly silent Cryer and the fiery-eyed Olivia, and awkwardly asked:

“Is there a problem with our knight?”

“Yes. There’s a problem.”

“Pardon?”

“There’s something he and I need to discuss. Please excuse us.”

The king didn’t understand at all, but Olivia’s uncharacteristically forceful demeanor made it hard to object. A confrontation between the Empire and Norden over one knight was the last thing he wanted.

“Ahem… Sir Cryer. Please accompany Her Highness.”

Olivia, flustered, almost called his name aloud, but covered it with a cough and beckoned him with her hand. But Cryer remained unmoved.

Time ticked by painfully slowly. Cold sweat drenched her back, and her trembling fingertips betrayed her panic. She parted her cracked lips to speak—but fortunately, the King stepped in first.

“Sir Cryer. What are you doing? Her Highness is calling for you.”

“My apologies.”

The moment Cryer spoke, Olivia felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Her spine stiffened. But retreating now was not an option.

“Th… this way.”

Without waiting for him, Olivia turned and walked away. She didn’t accept an escort. Only Cryer noticed that her shoulders were trembling slightly.

Arriving at the prepared private room, Olivia gulped nervously. So many people had seen them walk here together—surely Cryer couldn’t just kill her in this sealed room.

…Right?

Let’s go with that.
She stepped inside first, desperately convincing herself. As soon as she turned her back—Cryer entered.
Click.
The sound of the door locking was louder than thunder. Olivia flinched hard.

Finally.
Finally, they were alone.

Her heart pounded wildly, threatening to leap out of her chest. Not from excitement—more like arrhythmia from pure panic.

If only this situation was like the assumptions in the meeting room—that she’d fallen for him at first sight and couldn’t hold herself back… that would’ve been so much nicer.

“Your Highness, if you’ve taken a liking to me, I apologize. But I’m not in a position to be with anyone.”

Before she could even finish that thought, Cryer spoke—polite in tone, but with a clear air of annoyance.

He followed the bare minimum of etiquette, but made it clear he wasn’t here for pleasantries.

“I didn’t drag you here because I have feelings for you. I actually have something to discuss.”

Rubbing her goosebump-covered cheeks, Olivia dismissed his assumption. She waved her hand.

“You don’t need to follow any stiff etiquette with me. Speak however you like—formally, informally, doesn’t matter.”

This was the first time someone’s polite speech had made her recoil like this. Then again, how many “first times” had she really had?

Born a princess, Olivia had never heard informal speech from anyone except the Emperor.
But Cryer—he spoke bluntly from the very first time they met.
No, not just words—he killed her too.

“This kind of thing wouldn’t be difficult for you anyway.”

Cryer’s brow twitched faintly at her strange and unexpected statements.
Before he could respond, Olivia hurriedly continued—rushed, nervous, afraid. She couldn’t bear even a moment of silence.

“There’s only one reason I brought you here. What do I have to do—or what must be done?”

She was desperate. And Cryer could clearly read that desperation. But he still didn’t show his cards.

“I’m not quite following…”

“I said—what do I have to do!”

Olivia took a step forward toward him with fierce determination—but stopped short, lacking the courage to close the gap completely.

“For you! What must I do for you?”

“There’s no need for that, Your Highness. I am merely a knight of Norden. You, as the Empire’s princess, have no reason to do anything for me.”

Still feigning ignorance, Cryer remained unshaken. Olivia clenched both fists and shouted, even more fiercely:

“What must I do to stop the war?!”

Her voice echoed with desperation. And then—heavy silence. The kind that suffocated.

How long it lasted, she didn’t know.

“First… breathe.”

“Ah—huhh! Haaah!”

With his words, Olivia gasped, sucking in the breath she had forgotten to take. Her lungs filled so suddenly it made her eyes water. She stared at Cryer with teary, wide blue eyes.

“Y-You just used informal speech!”

“You told me to.”

Cryer, dropping the shell of politeness, shrugged lightly and leisurely observed Olivia—like a predator watching prey.

Feeling like a frog before a snake, Olivia repeated one thought: Don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.

Maybe it worked. Cryer didn’t seem inclined to twist her neck just yet.

Fortunately for her, he showed interest in what she had said.

“War? What are you talking about?”

“…Do we still need to beat around the bush when we both know everything?”

She tried to stay calm, but her voice still trembled pitifully.

“Both know? Now that you mention it—Your Highness. What exactly do you know?”

“Everything.”

Olivia answered instantly—without a breath. She wasn’t even sure she was breathing at all anymore.

Cryer tilted his head slowly at her response.

“I know everything! That you’ll start a war—a continental war that drenches everything in blood! That the entire continent will fall into your hands, rivers will run red, people will groan in death and despair! And—!”

As Olivia screamed all this in a frenzy, her throat suddenly caught.

—