TPWTL 38

Chapter 38. Stay by My Side

It was a clear day, the sky high and without a single cloud. Under the midday sun, a carriage bearing the imperial crest of Bolsheik raced across the land. Inside the jostling carriage, Olivia was reviewing documents when she suddenly lifted her head. There wasn’t even enough room to store the papers properly, and she had chosen not to bring even a single attendant. Riding alone, she opened a small window. Squinting into the pouring sunlight, she gazed into the distance and spoke.

“How much farther?”

A response came to her question, which had been cast into the air.

“If we keep riding without a single break, we’ll arrive by sunset.”

The reply came from Cryer, who was riding closest to the carriage—closer than even her royal guards. Olivia let out a sigh at his words.

“Getting there quickly is good, but not always.”

Their destination was the Kingdom of Norden. A nest of wretches who, under the pretense of purifying the world according to the will of the Ancient God, had waged a continental war, turning lands into seas of blood. Still, it was also the place where they might find a way to remove the slave brand on Cryer. Part of her wanted to get there as soon as possible, to grab that wretched mage by the collar and fix everything.

Though Cryer had been the one to kill Olivia four times, the real instigator—the one who had used him like a beast—was the mage. And now she would soon come face to face with that person. It wasn’t something she was looking forward to.

As Olivia’s eyes wandered distantly, silver shimmered in her vision like a midday moon. Crimson eyes pierced the blue sky.

“Stay by my side.”

His whisper curled softly around her ear, and Olivia couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll stay by your side.”

He hadn’t uttered a single word about protecting her, yet those words were a vow to do just that. He truly sounded like her “knight.” Olivia had once called him “my knight,” but Cryer was never truly hers. At best, they were comrades, bound by a shared goal and running toward the same purpose with reckless abandon.

Even so, his words were strangely convincing, and the unease in her stomach eased instantly. Olivia then spoke the words she had originally intended to say.

“Isaac, come in.”

Clatter. Before her words had fully settled, a soft sound came from the carriage roof—supposedly empty—and as if by magic, Isaac appeared from between the documents. Thud. Olivia shut the window. The carriage, crafted with the Empire’s most advanced technology, was perfectly soundproof and equipped to prevent ambushes.

Of course, none of those features were of any use against Cryer. That’s why, even separated by soundproof walls, he had still been able to keep his promise to Olivia—to stay by her side.

“You called?”

Isaac smiled, his fox-like eyes curving. Olivia nodded in satisfaction.

“Did anyone notice?”

“No, Your Highness.”

Olivia tilted her head for a moment, then asked again.

“Not even Cryer?”

“I suggest we exclude him from the ‘human’ category.”

His response carried a hint of humor, but the weight behind it was real. Olivia didn’t object. She didn’t say something meaningless like, “He’s still human.”

What good were such hollow words?

In many ways, Cryer had surpassed humanity. Even the deranged mage who had awakened him spoke of his fragmented past with reverence—saying he was remarkably strong. On top of his natural strength, the gift—or rather the cursed price—he received by becoming the slave of the Ancient God had given him abilities far beyond human limits.

He was a monster.

And Olivia, who had died four times and returned four times, was also no longer entirely human. A different kind of monster, perhaps.

A monstrous man and a monstrous woman. Perhaps it was fate.

Olivia shook her head to banish the fleeting thought and stared quietly at Isaac.

She remembered the day he first stood before her. When he had tried to offer a formal greeting, she had waved it off and gotten straight to the point.

“You said you wanted to stay in the Empire, right? You can. I’ll allow it. But you’ll have to earn your keep.”

“Earn my keep…?”

Olivia exchanged a brief glance with Cryer.

“Listen closely to what I’m about to say. Whether you believe it or not is up to you. But believing will help you earn your keep.”

And then she told him about the Ancient God and the mage. Not everything, of course—she didn’t mention the fact that she had regressed four times.

When she finished, Isaac was silent for a long time. He simply tilted his head slightly, those fox-like eyes concealing his thoughts. Then it seemed to click: the recent imperial conference she had hosted had been themed around “World Peace.”

And the host of that meeting—right in front of him—was…

“The Ancient God and the… mage? A continental war and the end of the world?”

It all sounded too absurd to be coming from a princess of the Empire, spoken so gravely.

“As I said before, whether you believe it is up to you,” Olivia said dryly.

A beat passed before Isaac asked, “I’ve never heard this anywhere. That means… this is a secret?”

Anyone would wonder—why speak so casually of such a secret?

But the answer was obvious. The dead tell no tales. And secrets are taken to the grave.

No matter how Isaac struggled, he would never escape Cryer’s grasp.

“What do I need to do to earn my keep?”

“Information.”

That short answer was enough.

After some contemplation, Isaac bowed deeply and then stood upright to speak.

“If that is Your Highness’s will, I am prepared to do whatever it takes. However…”

“However?”

“There’s a bit of a problem.”

Isaac continued with an awkward expression, as if putting on a show for a passing peacock.

“I need to return to my homeland. I’m still officially listed as—”

Before he could finish, Olivia raised a hand to cut him off. She scribbled something lazily and pulled a cord to send a message.

“You’re part of the Empire now.”

And just like that, she resolved his issue with a stroke of the pen.

Now, Isaac was going to infiltrate the Kingdom of Norden to retrieve information about the Ancient God—or more accurately, the mage.

“About your assignment…”

“Yes?”

“If you notice anything suspicious, even the slightest unease, or if you have a bad dream the night before—abort.”

Magic turns the impossible into the possible, in ways that defy imagination. Olivia, who thought Isaac moved almost like a magician, knew he wasn’t one in truth.

If Isaac got caught—if the mage got even the tiniest hint—everything they told him could fall into the enemy’s hands.

It might be an extreme leap in logic, but this was no ordinary mage. He was mad. He spoke of the Ancient God and the end of the world.

Every possibility had to be accounted for.

“Remember this: if something feels off, run. Risk everything and just run.”

Whether a warning, a plea, or concern, Olivia’s words were met with a deep bow from Isaac.

“As Your Highness commands.”

By evening, as Cryer had said, the carriage reached the royal palace of Norden.

Naturally, it was the Crown Prince of Norden who greeted Olivia.

“Your Highness, Princess Olivia.”

She returned a polite greeting, but her eyes quickly scanned the area around him. Before long, her brows creased faintly.

He wasn’t there.

The man she had seen over and over again as he branded Cryer—the mage—was nowhere to be found.

‘He said the mage rarely leaves the king’s side because of spells or mind control.’

So with the royal funeral taking place now, the mage should have been next to the Crown Prince, the future king.

Then why…?

Had something more important come up?

If so, what could possibly be more important?

With no information, all she could do was spiral deeper into questions.

But she had no time to dwell.

“…So with this opportunity, wouldn’t it be right for our knight to return home?”

Caught off guard by the Crown Prince’s words, Olivia asked again.

“A… knight?”

Instead of answering, he turned his gaze to Cryer, who stood protectively beside her.

“As a knight of Norden, it’s only natural he returns to his homeland.”

She had no immediate response.

She had anticipated that someone would eventually raise the issue—Cryer was still a knight of Norden, even though Olivia had kept him in the Empire.

But she hadn’t expected it to come from the Crown Prince himself.

Cryer was important to the mage, but not necessarily to the kingdom.

She had thought the mage wouldn’t be foolish enough to openly demand his return in front of a foreign princess.

Before Olivia could respond, the Crown Prince introduced someone else.

“This person has been granted full authority over the matter. They’ll also be in charge of escorting Your Highness during your stay.”

Wait… he was the Crown Prince. Why was he saying this directly to her?

The absurdity was stacking up—absurd words, absurd timing.

Olivia’s nerves bristled like fine needles.

And then, from behind the Crown Prince, a head of deep auburn hair shimmered like the sunset.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness.”

A stunning beauty.

That was Olivia’s first impression of Greta.

As Greta’s lips curved into a smooth smile, Cryer casually stepped in front of Olivia and spoke.

“Greta.”

At the low murmur of her name, Olivia barely managed to keep her expression from breaking.

Greta.

If that was her name, then—

‘Greta’s the one who branded me. The mage’s daughter.’

Like this?

They were really doing this?

A sudden face-to-face meeting with the mage’s daughter?

It was so absurd it left her momentarily breathless.

While Olivia’s mind spun in chaos like a storm, Cryer and Greta merely stared at each other in silence.

And so, Olivia, Cryer, and Greta—three people—stood face to face.