#33. He’ll Come Back.
A decent noble of the Empire? No, that man is not just “decent.” I don’t know what circumstances he has, but he is definitely not some nameless knight. So far, it seems that only the princess has recognized him, which is fortunate for Isaac. Once everyone confirms his true worth, it will be difficult for anyone to approach him—just like the current princess.
“Better to earn some points in advance.”
Isaac folded his fox-like eyes into a long smile and vanished from the reception room as if melting into the shadows.
By the time Isaac disappeared from the reception room and the night deepened—
“I’m done eating.”
Olivia put down her spoon and shook her head. But Cryer smiled and handed her the spoon again.
“You have to recover your strength. You have work to do.”
“Don’t smile like that; it’s really scary. Your eyes don’t smile.”
Though she took the spoon he gave her, Olivia just stirred the yellow pumpkin soup. Cryer, silently watching her, finally spoke.
“How old are you to be such a picky eater?”
“You used to call me a bloody lump!”
“That was relative. You know better than anyone that eating is necessary for recovery. After all, you’ve been through war.”
But Olivia shook her head even more firmly at his words.
“There has never been a war long enough to suffer hunger. Since the beginning, you’ve been advancing like an unstoppable wave.”
It was truly a disaster—an unstoppable, unavoidable, blood-stinking red tidal wave. Remembering that, Olivia suddenly laughed dryly. That very red tidal wave had now become an insurmountable wall of wailing by her side. The sharp blade was not pointed under her chin, but at the ancient god’s—or rather, the mage’s—chin.
“What’s with that laugh?”
“Well, why, what. But more importantly…”
Olivia lifted her chin brazenly, then quickly moved closer to Cryer.
“Thanks to you forcing me to sleep, I don’t have a fever anymore. You can see it just by looking.”
With sparkling eyes and on tiptoe, she suddenly had both her cheeks grabbed by Cryer’s hand.
“Hoya?”
Her lips puckered in question, and a nicely cut financier cake slid into her mouth.
“Eat this at least.”
Chewing on the financier bursting with lemon scent, Olivia opened her mouth with a subtle expression.
“It’s weird that such a sweet financier smelling of lemon comes from your hand.”
“Is it?”
“It’s really strange.”
Cryer smirked and swallowed the rest of the financier in one bite.
“It’s also strange that you don’t dislike sweets.”
“It’d be less strange if I said I don’t enjoy them.”
“No, just putting it in your mouth itself—ugh.”
“Eat that and stop right there.”
This time Olivia, nibbling on an Earl Grey flavored madeleine, took a bitter sip of tea and breathed deeply. Immediately, the sweet scent drifting around her thickened and quieted all at once.
“Did you hear?”
The sudden question hung in the air. Cryer, enveloped in the same cold atmosphere, nodded.
“Yes. The puppet from Norden also ended up the same.”
“Yeah. They both suddenly burned to ashes. And…”
She reached for a document and handed it over.
“The part with the red line there.”
“There was nothing but ashes, no soot?”
“They said it was clean.”
Olivia nodded and lowered her voice, placing her hand near her mouth.
“Like magic.”
Looking down at Olivia, who lowered her chin but peeked up through her eyes, Cryer spoke.
“Magic, huh.”
“Probably?”
“If those related to the ancient gods all died in the same bizarre fire, then it must be certain. Come to think of it…”
Cryer put the document down and continued.
“They said the culprit was found burned before the regression too.”
“Yeah. Then and now, same story. So the mage’s breath must have touched it back then too?”
“Exactly.”
Olivia tilted her head sideways.
“Magic is really amazing. To be able to burn two people in the imperial palace in Norden to death.”
Narrowing her eyes, she tapped her chin.
“And it’s strange too?”
“Magic being strange is nothing special.”
“No, it’s not strange that magic was used for this. It’s strange that even though they could do this, they still chose to use you to start a war… Ah.”
Olivia stopped mid-sentence, her brows deeply furrowing. Cryer slowly rubbed her forehead and nodded.
“They said they wanted blood.”
“Right… They had to have a war for blood to flow. Quite the preference.”
Even though the topic smelled strongly of blood, Olivia’s comment made Cryer smirk.
“That’s their taste.”
“A terrible taste. Blood purification, and all that. Well, the culprit was caught, and we know what’s behind it, so it’s not too bad that they died. But why use magic to kill them? They would have died anyway if left alone.”
“And they even sent a puppet to catch that culprit.”
Olivia and Cryer, staring at each other, clicked their tongues in unison.
“So it’s certain they wanted to eliminate them, but the reason is unknown.”
“That’s about it. Anyway, I found out two things.”
Olivia counted off on her fingers.
“First, it’s not only mages who know about the ancient gods.”
“And second?”
“The mages don’t just dislike those who know the ancient gods—they want to kill them.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes and shook her head.
“If we use those two points, we might be able to give the mages a solid hit, but the first point is a huge barrier.”
“If you say you know the ancient gods…”
“Right. It’s extremely unlikely that anyone who knows the ancient gods and has such a terrible taste is a decent person.”
“Ah, true. There are even those who voluntarily branded themselves as slaves.”
“What?”
Olivia jumped up in surprise.
“You mean there are slaves besides you?”
“Yeah.”
Cryer shook his head at Olivia’s demand to spill who it was immediately.
“I don’t know who. Just heard they exist.”
At his anticlimactic answer, Olivia’s round shoulders sagged. She frowned but then shook her head to shake it off.
“Enough about distant stories. Let’s focus on what’s right in front of us.”
“What else is there besides the burned ones?”
Olivia told him about the meeting with Ambre a few hours ago. She didn’t tell Ambre everything about Cryer’s situation, such as the ancient gods or slaves. Of course, that meant there wasn’t much to say… Anyway, she told Ambre to pay close attention to the kingdom of Norden, especially the palace. Not long after, Ambre brought news.
“The funeral might be delayed?”
There was no precedent for delaying the state funeral when a guest, or puppet, arrived in Norden.
“Yes. According to people in Norden, the delay is almost certain.”
Ambre nodded as she dumped sugar cubes into Olivia’s pushed teacup.
“Tell me more.”
“The speed at which goods needed for the funeral were entering the palace has noticeably slowed. Instead…”
Ambre took a sip of something thick and sweet rather than tea and continued.
“They say orders for other things have poured in massively.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes.
“They said the items ordered were stones.”
“Stones…?”
“Yes. Huge stones.”
After that, silence fell between them. Like Olivia when she first heard “stones” from Ambre, Cryer wore a complicated expression. If they delayed the funeral to do something, of course it was an event led by the mages. But stones… stones. Olivia wracked her brain and vaguely recalled something like a forgotten melody’s missing verse: ancient gods, stones, mages. On the day of the heavy rain, there was definitely a stone…
“Cra…”
Olivia called him anxiously, but he had already disappeared from her sight. Blinking rapidly at the empty space, Olivia shook her head.
“He’ll come back.”
Neither Olivia nor Cryer had realized how natural it had become that he was by her side.
Cryer, who vanished in front of Olivia in an instant, appeared in a dim corridor. Walking in the darkness, he showed his teeth in a fierce grin. Someone was sensing his presence in the private areas of the princess’s palace. Since the martial arts competition announcement, the trash hadn’t crawled in.
“One more makes two.”
They were arguing about the order, but there were not one but two. Handling one or two was no different, so better to finish quickly and go back. Cryer naturally thought he had to “return” to Olivia and stomped the ground toward the direction where he sensed movement. Seconds later, a smooth-faced knight collapsed to the floor without seeing Cryer. But Cryer didn’t glance at him and stared instead at the shadow beyond. He didn’t even touch the fur of the man lying at his feet. Cryer’s lips curled into a smirk as he glared at the shadow.
“Come out.”
No sooner had the command left his mouth than Isaac appeared from the shadow. Isaac, with hands clean of blood pressed to his chest, spoke.
“Good to see you again.”
“We won’t meet again.”
Cryer answered coldly as he stepped forward and tilted his head.
“Ah, how dangerous.”
Isaac had moved just enough to be out of range of Cryer’s sword—close enough that one swing would cut his throat. Not just keen sight but true ability, he was on a completely different level from the others Cryer had faced. But to Cryer, it was a petty contest.
“Ugh!”
Isaac, startled by the dark red eyes that approached him in the blink of an eye, bounced back. Cryer could easily have caught him but let him go with a low laugh.
“It wasn’t a coincidence.”
“Avoiding is all I managed.”
Isaac hurriedly spoke before Cryer moved again.
“I have no interest in night games. I never did in the past, now, or in the future.”
He glanced at Cryer and added,
“That’s why I dealt with this guy personally.”
It might be a shallow lie to escape this place, but Isaac was the first to dodge Cryer’s bloody wildness. For the first time, Isaac stood firm in Cryer’s crimson wilderness.
