TPWTL 05

#5. Only He and I Will Remain in This World

Bang.
With a short, sharp slap of his hand on the desk, he drew everyone’s attention and slowly opened his mouth.

“Silence.”

His voice was strange. But stranger still was the fact that his one word made everyone fall instantly silent. As he looked down on the now-quiet crowd with eyes full of contempt, like looking at insects, he spoke again.

“There is a will. We shall follow the late king’s wishes.”

When he gestured toward the rear, the silhouette of the crown prince emerged from the shadows. The prince, eyes unfocused and dazed, obediently followed the magician’s command. The man seated the prince before him, moved to place his hand on his shoulder, then instead set it on the chair. He opened his lips again.

“Given the urgency of the situation, the coronation will be brief. However, since there is no doubt that the crown prince will be the next King of Norden, he shall preside over all state affairs.”

As the man finished speaking and tapped the chair with his finger, the prince cried out in a hollow voice, his eyes still vacant.

“As he says, so shall it be!”

The assembly inside the royal conference hall nodded as if entranced and quickly filed out. The affairs of the kingdom were now controlled entirely by one man’s words, mere moments after the reigning king’s death. It was a scene that even a child would find suspicious, but no one there felt anything was off.

No one knew who this man was — his name, his face — nor when or how he had come to stand by the king’s side. Yet, not even the king himself had ever questioned him. On the contrary, with time, everyone came to trust him. As if by magic.

The first to leave the conference hall was a man with a pale complexion. His eyes burned brightly as he gazed out the window of the king’s chambers. A shadow silently approached behind him.

“Father.”

“You’re here, Greta.”

“Yes. It won’t be long now.”

The magician turned to his daughter with arms wide open, grinning ear to ear.

“Yes. Finally, this day has come.”

“It took a long time. If we were in the Empire… No — I know. This wouldn’t have worked even in a slightly larger country.”

“It was long, indeed. But the day to cleanse this filthy world is finally near!”

“This filthy world…”

Greta took a step closer, a faint smile on her pale face.

“Still, there’s one pure soul left.”

“What do you mean?”

“The man chosen by the ancient god.”

“You mean the slave?”

“God’s slave. He died, was cleansed, and resurrected — doesn’t that make him pure?”

“Indeed. That’s why he must be the one to burn the world down—”

Before he could finish—stab.
The sound of flesh tearing, and the magician’s eyes widened as if to burst.

He was caught off guard. His gaze filled with nothing but disbelief. Greta twisted the dagger embedded in his stomach sharply to the right. The grating sound of bone being scraped echoed, but Greta only smiled. With deep satisfaction.

“Ku… Gahk!”

Blood splattered from his lips, staining Greta’s face, but she didn’t even blink. She looked straight at him. Blood foam bubbled from his lips with a wheezing groan.

“Why…?”

The magician could only stare at her in shock as his heart slowly ceased to beat.

“Why, you ask?”

Greta smiled sweetly, then slowly pulled the dagger from his abdomen and dropped it to the floor. It rolled across the white carpet, leaving a red trail — and at the start of that trail stood Greta. She embraced the collapsing magician, blood streaming from his gut, and sat in the growing pool of blood.

She gently wiped the blood from his lips and jaw, whispering:

“You were just part of this filthy world too, Father. So I’m purifying you — with death.”

She cradled him close as he gasped his last breath and coughed blood. Her blood-stained fingers now marked his cheek.

“Goodbye, Father.”

Greta’s voice, laced with faint ecstasy, faded into the magician’s ears.
And so, on the day the King of Norden died in what was deemed an unfortunate accident, the magician — nameless, the one who had forcibly resurrected Cryer by forming a contract with an ancient god and branded him as a divine slave — died by the hand of his own daughter.

“In the world purified by the ancient god, only he and I will remain. Just like you wanted, Father — a clean, pure world.”

Greta smiled radiantly and kicked her father’s corpse without hesitation.
To her, the dead magician no longer existed.
Her strangely glinting eyes turned only toward Cryer, who was surely now standing in the Imperial conference hall, watching over the insect-like humans soon to be “cleansed.”

The King of Norden’s death was deemed an unfortunate accident. No one dared raise the possibility of assassination or any other foul play.
To be precise — they couldn’t.

A foreign king assassinated in the Imperial Palace?
Anyone uttering such a thing would find themselves walking on the thinnest of ice.

Besides, Norden was a minor power with little influence on the continent.
Even those with vested interests didn’t bother to question his death.
Or rather — they simply didn’t care enough.

Everyone gathered in the conference hall had their eyes wide, fixed on Olivia — and the man beside her, Cryer.

“…We offer our deepest condolences to the Kingdom of Norden…”

Hadn’t the princess offered her condolences and sent all the Norden delegates back?

“And regarding the upcoming state funeral…”

Yes — all the Norden envoys had returned.
So why?
Why is that knight still beside the Imperial princess?

It was a question on everyone’s mind.

“Surely… no way…”

A whispered breath turned into a wave of suspicion, spreading like infection. One by one, a singular theory took root.

Eventually, someone, unable to hold back their curiosity, finally asked:

“Your Highness the Princess!”

“Yes?”

“Why has… why hasn’t that knight returned?”

At the accusatory finger pointed toward Cryer, a faint twitch appeared at the corner of Olivia’s mouth.
Don’t point like that. If you’re not careful, you could disappear without a trace.

She swallowed those words and instead wore a smile filled with politeness and charm.

“In the interest of smooth diplomatic relations, he will remain in the Empire.”

“Pardon?”

“What do you… I mean, we! We also have knights who—”

“What nonsense! Our knights are far superior—”

It turned into a hornet’s nest.
As soon as Olivia’s words ended, leaders from various nations began touting the superiority of their own knights.

“Diplomatic relations?”

Cryer murmured quietly.
Olivia looked up at him and replied:

“What else could I say? That I fell for you at first sight and couldn’t bear to let you go, so I’ve taken you in as my consort? Of course, no matter what I say, that’s what they’ll think.”

An unmarried princess, publicly alone with a foreign knight in front of so many?
Yeah, “diplomatic relations” was the safest excuse.

“How clever.”

“You’re awful. I may not have fallen for you at first sight, but even if I had, you didn’t have to react like I was repulsive. Am I that hideous—?”

“Would you like it if the woman who has to kill you whispered sweet nothings?”

“…That was a smart answer to a dumb question.”

“Anyway, what will you do about them?”

Cryer nodded toward the frantic leaders recommending their knights.

“I’ll accept one from each nation.”

She had predicted this would happen — and knew exactly what they were imagining.

“Better than calling them consorts.”

“Forget that part. Erase it from your memory.”

“If Her Highness commands.”

“Stop with the ‘Your Highness’ — it gives me goosebumps.”

Olivia rubbed her arm with a shudder.

“By stationing knights from each nation here, we can calm their suspicions all at once.”

“What suspicions? That you’ve taken me as your consort?”

“That again? No — well, partly, sure — but mostly, it’s about war. War.”

“They don’t know I’m the one who causes the Continental War, do they? Unless someone else regressed besides you.”

“I’m not talking about the war you cause. I’m talking about the war the Empire is planning.”

“Ah yes, this Continental Conference. The topic suddenly changed to ‘World Peace,’ didn’t it?”

“Exactly. It was supposed to be about something else, months from now. But they changed it to ‘peace’ at the last minute. Obviously, people are uneasy. It means the Empire is planning something.”

“So, you’ll let their knights stay — legal spies.”

“Something like that.”

“But Princess…”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’ll be getting consorts instead of knights.”

Cryer’s smirk was unmistakable.
Olivia squinted and slowly turned her head. The hall had quieted somewhat.
Now, one new person stood beside each national leader.

Scanning them, Olivia whispered in a voice barely audible — even to herself.

“How many of them do you think actually have knight titles?”

Cryer leaned in and murmured by her ear:

“They may all hold the title, but as for acting like knights? Probably fewer than you think. Looks like they care more about becoming consorts than fighting wars.”

“Damn it.”

So many thirsty fools lining up for kimchi soup before the rice cake is even served.

She had tried to advance the timeline and bring the conference forward for the sake of peace — but all anyone seemed to care about was her marriage.

“How about starting a war just to scare those glinting eyes straight?”

“Absolutely not. No war, under any circumstances.”

She had seen it too many times — how even the smallest skirmish or street brawl could trigger a continental war.

Peace had to be protected. So she wouldn’t die again.

“Because you’re a dove of peace?”

“Yes, I’m a dove. Coo coo, coo coo. Happy now? Don’t—don’t laugh!”

She ground her teeth seeing his shoulders shake with laughter.
Cryer, for some reason, trembled more at her words.

She wanted to grab him by the collar and shake him, but she’d probably end up dangling from his chest like a cicada.

Still irritated, she reached behind her skirt.