TPWTL 76

#76. There Is Nowhere to Return

“There is.”

Isaac scratched the corner of his eye as he stared back at Cryer, who, like the silent, sunken night sea, hadn’t spoken a word.

“Once you’ve learned something, you can’t go back to when you didn’t know. And besides—‘a god’? That really is a god, isn’t it? If we’re going to deal with something like that, wouldn’t it be far better to know as much as possible rather than dive in half-informed? For me, and for the two of you who are entrusting me with this.”

Cryer, who had been silently studying Isaac, finally parted his heavy lips.

“How can you be so sure a god is the enemy?”

“If this were truly for the sake of a god, there would be no need for such secrecy. With Her Highness the Princess involved, the Empire would’ve mobilized its people openly, on a grand scale. Besides, hasn’t Her Highness always championed world peace? If she served such a god, there’d be no reason to hide it.”

Words tumbled out of Isaac in a single breath. He furrowed his brow and added:

“And that temple in the Kingdom of Norden… it didn’t look like it was built with good intentions.”

He always warned himself against making judgments based on instinct alone—but neither could he ignore his sharpened intuition. The unsettling air surrounding the temple, the dreadful mutterings of an architect who’d spoken of ominous doom with sheer terror in his eyes…

“That’s why I ask this of you.”

Isaac slowly lowered one knee, pressed a fist to his chest, and bowed.

“Tell me. Tell me everything.”

Olivia looked down at him, then met Cryer’s eyes.

No words were exchanged, but countless things passed between them in silence.

Isaac wanted to hear everything. But what counted as “everything”?

After all, anything related to the “Ancient God” would sound absurd to an outsider—at best, dismissed as an overblown joke. The existence of mages, for instance. Cryer’s resurrection. Olivia’s regression.

Yet, as if they’d come to an unspoken agreement, both nodded.

In the next moment, Isaac grit his teeth as a crushing weight pressed down on his body, his skin crawling with gooseflesh.

Before he could even blink, Cryer was standing right in front of him, towering over him, lips moving.

“You’re right—you can’t go back. No, you can’t return anywhere.”

The unspoken words—Do you still want to hear it?—hung in the air. And yet, faced with Cryer’s overwhelming presence, Isaac only curved his lips into a smile.

“My life is already yours. Where else would I go?”

“You won’t be able to believe it.”

“I don’t exactly have the option of not believing.”

Cryer looked into Isaac’s fox-like eyes, where a steady, unwavering flame flickered. For the first time since meeting him, Cryer smiled faintly.

“Then should I start by asking you how it feels to serve a slave?”

From that cryptic beginning, Cryer’s tale unfolded: of Ancient Gods and branded slaves, of mages and resurrection, of wars and regressions, of purifications that were really annihilations. A series of things so absurd, so impossible, that no one in their right mind could accept them—yet Cryer recounted them all with unsettling calm.

“…So, to be precise, you won’t be fighting a god, but a mage.”

When Cryer finally fell silent, Isaac was left with his mouth hanging open, gasping soundlessly.

He tilted his head back, studying the patterns on the ceiling, then dropped his gaze to the delicate weave of the carpet, back and forth, before finally speaking again:

“This is the first time I’ve heard you say so much at once. Don’t tell me there’s some curse that prevents you from speaking too many words… Ah, don’t look at me like that. Lately I’ve been too afraid of seeing Master in my dreams to sleep properly anyway.”

“…Do you truly believe this?”

Watching Isaac dust himself off and get to his feet as though nothing had happened, Olivia couldn’t help but ask, curiosity genuine.

“I told you. Not believing isn’t an option. Besides, Your Highness is a Volshaik.”

“What kind of strange faith is that?”

“Haha. My family has records of the Volshaik. I just happen to know a little more than most. One of my ancestors once crossed paths with someone who possessed another’s body from another world, apparently. So if regression and turning back time is possible, it would only be through a Volshaik. And…”

Isaac scratched his cheek, glancing at Cryer, who loomed like darkness itself.

“Honestly, it’s easier to believe you’re a resurrected Ancient God’s slave than to think you’ve just been hiding your strength and playing the part of a Norden knight all this time.”

“What do you take Norden for?”

“At the very least, it’s not the Empire. If you’d been an Imperial knight, maybe then I’d believe it.”

Isaac’s blunt observation hung in the air before he suddenly asked:

“Lady Taren seemed to know something as well. How much does she know?”

“She doesn’t know about the regression, or the war, or the slave’s brand.”

“Then she only knows of the Ancient God’s existence. Any intent to tell her more?”

“…We’ll see.”

At Olivia’s vague reply, Isaac shrugged.

“Well, if it’s her, she’d probably believe every word and throw herself into this even more fervently. If she learned how many times Your Highness has come back like this, she’d probably burst into tears.”

“I’m no good at comforting crying ladies, so perhaps best to leave that be for now.”

Isaac opened his mouth to respond but closed it again. There was no real reason to bring up Lady Taren right now anyway.

Why did I even think of her just now?

The thought flickered briefly, then Isaac lowered one knee once more before Cryer, his fox-like eyes narrowing into a smile.

“Then I’ll answer you like this—it doesn’t feel so bad, serving a slave.”

From that moment on, Isaac stepped willingly into the story he had once never wanted to hear, becoming part of it himself.

“Ugh… ngh.”

A man groaned as though his throat were being clawed apart, parched beyond measure. Slowly, with great effort, his eyelids lifted.

Having eaten nothing and barely sipped water in days, his vision was narrow, blurry. For a time, he didn’t realize he was no longer in the barn where he’d been imprisoned.

Only after several tries, forcing his trembling eyelids up, did his mind begin to clear.

“…O… Oppa? Do you hear me?”

A familiar voice rang in his ears—the voice of his younger sister, the one he had longed for endlessly.

The man’s eyes flew wide open, rolling in shock, and the girl who watched him caught every moment. Her hands, slick with sweat despite her body trembling cold with tension, rubbed against the hem of her skirt.

Until just before this moment—no, until the very instant her brother opened his eyes—Sugar had been nothing but grateful. Grateful that her brother had returned at all.

Though… right before entering this room, she had heard something strange.

“Y-You found my brother? Thank you! Thank you, Your Highness!”

“Yes. I’ve found him.”

Olivia’s lukewarm tone should have given her pause, but Sugar had only felt joy.

Her brother was her only family left in this world. She herself had been trapped inside, unable to go anywhere, and he was the only one she could rely on. Now he was back.

Eyes sparkling red, Sugar had looked up at Olivia and asked:

“Your Highness… forgive me, but…”

“Don’t hold back. Ask.”

With that permission, the question that had risen to her lips poured out all at once.

“Is my brother safe? Was he hurt? Where is he now? Did he come back ho—”

“Enough. He’s fine. Nothing broken, nothing missing. He’s resting. Not home, but in that room.”

Her manicured finger pointed, and Sugar’s eyes widened.

Just a few steps away—her brother was right there.

Her little body nearly bounced with eagerness, ready to run to him that very moment. But Olivia only watched her quietly for a long time.

Because Olivia had heard everything the man—Sugar’s “brother”—had once spat at a back-alley woman who had tried to kill him.

Sacrifice. Ancient God. Not yet offered.

The man knew of the vile pact between House Rewire and the Ancient God. He knew Sugar was the price.

Up until now, Olivia had tried to think generously—that perhaps he had hidden Sugar all this time to protect her. But when facing death, his true heart had spilled out: The sacrifice hasn’t been given yet.

And even if she told Sugar this truth, the girl wouldn’t believe it.

Olivia’s investigation of the Rewire family showed that Sugar had lived almost her whole life indoors since birth. Their parents had died when she was young, and ever since, her brother had worked in service at House Taren while raising her.

For Sugar, her brother was savior, caretaker, everything.

So what would happen if Olivia told her she couldn’t see him anymore—without explanation? Could the girl possibly accept it?

Olivia met Sugar’s gaze, eyes the same color as Cryer’s but filled with entirely different emotions, and swallowed a bitter smile.

The girl was sharp. Hopefully, she would figure out her brother’s true intentions before hearing something she should never hear.

“Do you want to see him?”

“Yes! I want to see him!”

The answer came instantly, eager, as Sugar leaned toward the room where he waited. Olivia placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and whispered:

“If you don’t want to hear, then walk out at any time. If you can’t… then talk to yourself. That’s fine too.”

“…Huh?”

Puzzled, Sugar tilted her head. Olivia didn’t clarify, only added:

“And if you do talk to yourself, say: ‘Damn the Ancient God.’”

At that moment, the voice that yanked Sugar back into reality was none other than her brother’s.

“Su… gar? Sugar, is that you?”