#27. Where Is the Culprit?
Greta was smiling in satisfaction. The fear in the chamberlain’s eyes only served to amuse her more. Once again, Greta spoke through the Crown Prince’s mouth.
“Wrap up the business with the detached palace. As soon as possible.”
Accidents and incidents always strike unexpectedly.
That’s why they’re called accidents and incidents—to imply how unforeseen they are.
And just like that, today’s incident occurred at a time no one expected, in a place no one could have predicted.
Even the perpetrator hadn’t anticipated it.
Srrk. Thud.
A limp body collapsed onto a cloth marked with smudged sigils of an ancient god.
“Ugh… haah, haah, haah…”
The man panted raggedly, gasping for air that scraped his throat as he looked down at the unconscious Angbrh. Just minutes ago—
‘Huh? She came to work again today? I appreciate the dedication, but if she keeps pushing herself—mmph? Mmph—!’
Angbrh had been kidnapped by the man. The heir to the Taren family had fallen easily into his hands.
His plan was laughably simple:
“Next time I see her, I’ll take her.”
That was all.
To think he dared to hatch such a flimsy plan for kidnapping the heir of House Taren—an idea that would make even a passing monkey chuckle.
But this man differed greatly from your average kidnapper—because of his motive.
Most abductors act out of revenge or greed. In either case, they try their utmost not to get caught—crafting detailed plans to approach their target, carry out the abduction, and cover their tracks.
But this man…
“Oh divine one. My god. My god…”
He wasn’t worried about getting caught—not even slightly.
Not because he had some supernatural strength to defeat pursuers in one blow. No, he believed that when the final sacrifice was offered during the ritual, his god would descend.
And if his god arrived, what was there to fear?
As he ran his hand through Angbrh’s soft pink hair, a mad grin stretched across his face.
“My god is coming…”
What began with Angbrh’s pure goodwill had led to an unimaginably dark ending.
A few hours earlier…
“This is it.”
“Yes, right here.”
Olivia and Cryer arrived at the clearing the man from Norden had pointed out. There, they found bloodstains.
“It’s recent. A few days old—maybe even within two days.”
Cryer examined the stain while Olivia scanned the surroundings. As before, a strange, sweet scent lingered in the air. Despite the vivid red splatter, there was no smell of blood.
“A sigil…”
Cryer found a distorted emblem of the ancient god hidden beneath a pile of weeds. But Olivia was searching for something else.
“Your Highness?”
Without stopping, Olivia answered as she continued digging through the area.
“A body. If there was blood… then where’s the corpse?”
“None here.”
Cryer’s firm answer made Olivia grit her teeth.
“Then this is a missing person case.”
If the victim wasn’t dead, there was still a chance of rescue.
“First, we identify whose blood this is.”
With unstoppable determination, Olivia set off like a storm.
“Go. Find my people.”
She mobilized many people—far more than usual.
Any significant operation requires time and resources. But with enough resources, time can be drastically reduced.
As the sole bloodline of the Volshéik Empire, the imperial princess sending out a search meant a near-unlimited deployment of manpower.
“Your Highness! We found them!”
It didn’t take long to discover that a mother and daughter—struggling to get through the day unnoticed—had suddenly disappeared.
“When did they vanish?”
“That… we’re not really sure…”
Their neighbors all claimed they only just now realized the two were missing.
“Their situation was so bad… we figured maybe they ran away. We honestly hoped they did.”
An elderly woman, her voice cracking, admitted this quietly. Olivia turned away without another word.
Saying they hoped the pair had run away meant they’d deliberately looked away.
If someone tried to chase down the mother and daughter, and the neighbors wanted to stay silent, they had to genuinely know nothing.
After all, regular villagers couldn’t deceive professional human hunters.
Back at the palace, Olivia immediately sought out the man from Norden.
“Where is he!”
“He’s still unconscious in his room…”
Even before the servant finished speaking, Olivia strode off.
They had found blood at the clearing he pointed out—he had clearly been there, but he wasn’t the culprit.
Which meant… she needed to know where the real one was.
‘This place… A clearing? What… is he dead?’
‘No, unconscious.’
The man from Norden, who had promised to point out the perpetrator, lost consciousness again like a puppet with its strings cut—just as Olivia and Cryer arrived at the site.
She knew Greta was behind him. He was her puppet, after all.
So his sudden collapse must be magic or something similar. But Olivia couldn’t wait for him to recover.
Two people were missing.
Elsewhere in the palace—normally a quiet section reserved for foreign envoys—chaos erupted.
Bang!
With a sound like a door being torn off its hinges, Olivia stormed in, full of wrath.
“Your Highness, I—”
Before the man could even kneel, Olivia stood nose-to-nose with him.
She grabbed his collar without hesitation. Despite her small frame, the force she radiated overpowered him completely.
Staring into his lifeless eyes, she gritted her teeth and whispered,
“Where is the culprit?”
But his gaze remained dull.
When he said nothing, Olivia yanked him even closer.
“We allowed you into the Empire because you were confident you knew.”
His glazed eyes briefly darted behind her—to Greta.
And under Olivia’s piercing gaze, Greta’s smile twisted sharply.
A princess—just a powerless girl—was becoming a thorn in her side. No, worse: a splinter wedged under her fingernail.
“Speak.”
Just as Olivia leaned in even closer—
Crash!
The man’s neck snapped to the side as he collapsed onto the floor. Olivia looked up to see Cryer standing before her, having effortlessly flung the man across the room.
“Cryer—”
Before she could even finish speaking—crunch—Cryer stepped on the man’s hand, crushing his fingers as he spoke:
“Where is the culprit?”
And the man—no, Greta—smiled.
He smiled with joy, only for Cryer, and finally opened his mouth.
“The culprit is—”
“Your Highness! Princess!”
A servant burst through the door, breathless.
“Lady Angbrh of House Taren has gone missing!”
There’s truth in old sayings.
When it rains, it pours.
Misfortunes rarely come alone.
Just as they discovered the missing mother and daughter, they were hit with another blow:
Angbrh—the only heir to the Taren family—was also gone.
What were the odds that two unrelated disappearances would occur at such a coincidental time?
Marquis Taren—who had been far away on business—rushed to the palace in just a couple days.
Gone was the noble bearing of an aristocrat of blue blood. Limping from the rushed journey, he nearly crawled to Olivia and grabbed her arm.
‘Please… Your Highness… Please save my daughter…’
Olivia simply squeezed his hand in return.
There was no point asking why Angbrh was wandering alone. This was her family’s domain.
No one would dare lay a finger on a “Taren” here—and if an outsider tried, the people would stop them.
Because the people cherished Angbrh—not just because of her noble status.
‘It’s okay now.’
‘Don’t worry!’
‘I’ll help you.’
She had always reached out to others with kindness and generosity. And they returned that goodwill.
Goodness met with goodness.
But because of it, Angbrh had been completely unguarded—and disappeared.
As Marquis Taren collapsed in silent grief, Olivia stepped outside.
This blood-stained mystery had to be ended.
“Your Highness.”
Before a gathering crowd, Olivia declared firmly:
“Stand by.”
It was a difficult command to accept, but no one dared question her.
They simply obeyed.
From the shadows, Cryer’s eyes trembled.
Olivia’s back looked as small and fragile as ever—but to him, she felt like a towering mountain.
“Cryer.”
“I’m here.”
She believed Greta’s words, spoken through the man from Norden.
Because she knew neither the devout mage nor his daughter would joke about ancient gods.
“You heard, right?”
“Yeah.”
Few words passed between them—but volumes were understood.
Then Olivia reached out her hand.
“Let’s go.”
“If my princess commands it.”
Cryer gently took her hand and lifted her up.
Their foreheads touched as they steadied their breaths together.
Two breaths… becoming one heartbeat.
And together, they turned their heads—
Toward the altar twisted by ancient gods.
“It’s time to end this.”
