#51. Until We Meet Again.
“Your Highness.”
The Crown Prince, whom she absolutely should not have run into here, had appeared. The Minister of Finance instinctively opened his mouth to offer an excuse, but froze mid-word. Not out of fear, but literally, as if turned into stone. The Crown Prince, however, didn’t even glance at the minister. His gaze was fixed on Anbre without blinking, and he asked again:
“I asked why you are here.”
Despite the Crown Prince’s dry, expressionless interrogation, Anbre answered without hesitation.
“I came to verify where the stones supplied in the name of Taren are being used.”
It was, as expected, a flawless excuse—but Greta, standing next to the Crown Prince, twisted her mouth. He was just running around the royal palace for that reason? She knew the name Taren. No—she actually knew quite a lot about the empire. To see the blood that churned like a sea for the gods, one would need to drive the continent into war. And to do that, the empire—the continent’s pillar and center—must be shaken, pushed into the frenzy of war. Taren was one of the few noble houses powerful enough within the empire to matter. And that woman…
“Since the last offering was Lady Taren, it seems the princess was involved.”
Princess, princess, princess. Greta’s mouth twisted grotesquely as she thought of Olivia, standing by Cryer. A woman saved by the princess. Whether the answer offered by the Taren lady was true or false didn’t matter. It only meant there would be one more offering of blood for the altar that worshiped the gods.
“Have you finished checking?”
Speaking through the Crown Prince, Greta asked. Anbre shook her head.
“Apologies, but I have only just arrived. I intend to begin my inspection now.”
At that, Greta’s twisted mouth softened in an instant. She had thought the heir of the Taren family might be stupid—but no, she hadn’t noticed the subtle command contained in the Crown Prince’s question or the current reaction of that foolish Minister of Finance. She hadn’t heard of any other heir of the Taren family besides that woman. After handling things here, magic could cover it up—but it would be a hassle she wasn’t willing to bear. Although she disliked the fact that the woman had been saved by the princess, the woman’s naivety wouldn’t obstruct future plans. More importantly, Greta had more pressing matters. Once the temple—or rather, the underground altar—was complete, she had to leave for the empire. She needed to be by Cryer’s side. Since his resurrection, they had never been apart this long. Had he left and not returned, she might have endured a little longer, patiently waiting—but this brief reunion melted her patience completely. Moreover, Bonita, her faithful servant—or rather, the servant of the god—in the empire was about to establish her position. Taren… Greta, assessing Anbre’s life and death like a serpent, scanned her up and down. Sooner or later, she would die anyway. Not just this woman, but all of the continent’s writhing humans. Only Cryer and she would remain. Greta’s eyes reddened, her cheeks flushed. Once her thoughts were organized, her lips moved slightly, and the Crown Prince’s lips mirrored hers perfectly.
“Lady Taren, come with me—”
CRASH! Before the Crown Prince could finish speaking, a deafening roar erupted, tearing at their ears, and a massive cloud of dust rose into the air. BOOM!
“Waaah!”
“Huh! Wh-what!”
“Move! Get out of the way!”
Screams and the sound of collapsing buildings mingled, and until the noise subsided, no one could make sense of the situation. Th-thud.
“St…stopped?”
“My gods.”
As the earth-shaking roar subsided, terrified onlookers began to look around, and one person pointed shakily in a direction.
“There… there. Over there.”
Following the trembling hand with their eyes, people’s eyes widened in shock. A huge hole had been torn in the middle of a massive wall. Unlike the deafening noise just moments ago, the area was so quiet that even a breath could be heard. In the wall of the nearly completed structure, an enormous hole had appeared suddenly, without warning. While people were stunned by the impossible scene, Isaac moved silently, unseen. Of course, he couldn’t have pierced the wall like Cryer. He had merely removed a tiny stone placed to balance the neatly cut stones below. It had been a safety measure in case of danger—but never did he expect it to be used like this. Still… the situation was urgent. If a wizard appeared, escape was mandatory. A woman who looked exactly like the wizard described by the princess. With the Crown Prince nearby, there could be no doubt. And above all… Isaac felt an overwhelming disgust when he saw her. Beyond instinctive warning, there was a physiological revulsion. Something about her reminded him of the suffocating feeling when he first saw Cryer—similar, yet completely different. Isaac didn’t even realize his back was soaked in cold sweat as he moved efficiently, unseen, following shadows as if time had stopped. Soon, he reached Anbre, who, like everyone else, was staring wide-eyed at the collapsed wall.
“Ugh.”
Without hesitation, he covered Anbre’s mouth and melted into the shadows. The Taren family’s next heir had unexpectedly appeared in Norden, at a construction site secretly handled even within the palace. There might be other unknown factors, but Isaac was almost certain: Anbre Taren had acted purely for investigation. Whether this choice was right or wrong didn’t matter now—seeing that wizard left no time for debate. He had to flee. Of course, once Lady Taren, suddenly caught in his arms, calmed down, he could explain and escape…
Why wasn’t she resisting? Isaac whispered as he looked at Anbre’s head, stiff as a pillar of salt.
“The princess sent you. She ordered immediate escape upon seeing the wizard. Following her command, I’ll lead you out now.”
The moment Anbre heard the word “princess”, her shoulders relaxed.
Feeling Anbre’s relief radiate through her, Isaac’s fox-like eyes twitched slightly. She wasn’t resisting because she was scared—but to simply believe such a brief explanation?
“Do you really trust me that easily?”
Even at the strange whisper, Anbre didn’t freeze or struggle. She merely tapped lightly on his hand still covering her mouth. Isaac let her mouth go.
“Was that a lie?”
“No, not that…”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Should he call it naive, foolish, or both? As Isaac’s fox-like eyes reflected a rare expression, Anbre understood his intent to flee perfectly.
“We can’t disappear like this. After rampaging through the palace and suddenly vanishing from the accident site, even a passing monkey would suspect us of being involved.”
Astutely logical, Anbre’s words earned Isaac a simple nod.
“At least we should greet the Crown Prince. Well, it won’t hinder Taren’s plans either.”
Before Anbre could speak to the Crown Prince, she stopped. He was staring blankly at the air, like a doll with a broken string, even amidst the chaos. Though the dust might have made anyone squint, he didn’t blink once. Had the Crown Prince ever blinked? The thought sent shivers down her neck. How could anyone not blink for so long? He wasn’t a corpse…
But their contemplation was brief. Hearing Isaac’s whisper urging them to leave, Anbre called out:
“Your Highness! With all due respect, an outsider must take their leave!”
Her shout didn’t move the Crown Prince, but Greta, standing beside him. Her eyes rolled to Anbre, and her lips twitched. Then the Crown Prince, still not blinking once, finally spoke:
“Until we meet again.”
“Haah.”
Olivia exhaled deeply, frowning as she looked at the crumpled documents below her elbows.
“A change of diplomat.”
It wasn’t uncommon for diplomats to be replaced due to requests from foreign nations. But for the empire itself to replace a diplomat was rare. Even if the empire had the power, there was no need to trample the pride of another country to decide their nobles’ positions. Not impossible, but unnecessary.
“This feels… unsettling.”
Olivia exhaled an even longer sigh. Replacing a foreign diplomat wasn’t inherently problematic, and there was no reason they couldn’t do something previously undone. What made this particularly conspicuous was the proposer: Bonita Hainder.
“Her activity seems unusually frequent lately…”
Marquess Hainder, though powerful, was known for rarely asserting authority unnecessarily. Almost reclusive, appearing only when strictly necessary. Yet she had been to the palace twice already—once for Cryer, and again to propose replacing Norden’s diplomat.
“Both cases involve Norden, so to ignore the connection would be foolish.”
Yet Norden remained a factor.
“Hainder and Norden, huh…”
Olivia couldn’t recall any prior relationship between the two in her previous life.
“Since every reincarnation isn’t identical, I suppose I’ll have to navigate this one myself as well.”
Speaking words unfit for a princess, Olivia pressed her throbbing temples. To survive, she had dreamed of a future different from before her reincarnation. Naturally, she acted differently, altering the course of events. Though… in the end, the outcome was the same.
