TPWTL 79

#79. This Is Where I Belong

The god whom the Marquis of Heinder had sought—the one for whom she had taken in Sugar’s brother, or rather that piece of trash, and put him to work.

She had never outright said it was an Ancient God. Still, since it was well-known the Marquis never visited temples, such a suspicion was reasonable.

“Of course, it’s not as if the Marquis of Heinder would ever confess—‘Yes, I’m tangled up with an Ancient God in this and that way.’ She’s not the sort who’d yield to threats or persuasion either.”

“If necessary, we could apply some pressure—”

“No. Torture or threats won’t work on her. She’s someone who already died long ago and is just… breathing.”

Olivia, who had paused mid-sentence with a blink, brushed her hand down her face and let out a long sigh.

“If the Marquis of Heinder really is involved with an Ancient God, then… I understand why.”

“You think there’s a reason behind her madness?”

At Cryer’s cutting words, Olivia nodded slowly.

“Unlike sorcerers or other lunatics, she seems to have a reason. And because of that reason, it’s nearly impossible to move her.”

“And the reason is?”

“She lost her child. Barely a few hours after it was born.”

It wasn’t something openly discussed, but those who needed to know, knew. An old story, not uncommon among people, yet not one to fade easily.

“At the time, she wasn’t yet the Marquis but the heir apparent—Bonita Heinder. She fell into a forbidden love, and the outcome was…”

“Not good, I presume.”

“Correct. The man was of extremely poor standing. But, blinded by love, the future marquis shut her eyes and ears to the truth.”

Had it been just a single night’s folly, perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered. But that one night’s fire burned Bonita’s entire life to ashes.

“The baby’s cause of death was never clear. Neither was the former marquis’s.”

The Heinder family, never very social to begin with, became even more withdrawn after Bonita’s ill-fated love ended. Only later did people learn that her newborn never opened its eyes—and not long after, the former marquis closed his.

“When Bonita Heinder came to the palace to inherit her title, only vague rumors reached us.”

“So her devotion to an Ancient God is born from that tragic love?”

“Because she lost her child.”

It’s often said that when parents lose their child, they bury them in their hearts. Bonita’s grief had carved an everlasting scar inside her. If her choice was to burn the entire world because of it, one could not understand—but one could at least accept that it was her reasoning.

Yes, Olivia could guess the reason. But she could never truly understand her. Which is why, if Bonita Heinder was following an Ancient God, Olivia would treat her no differently than the daughter of a sorcerer.

“Why would the Marquis need to get rid of the man who was close with both the palace servant and the woman who attacked inside the Princess’s palace?”

Olivia arched one eyebrow, her voice laced with subtle mockery.

“Not just that—she kept interfering with the Princess’s palace. We’ll have to hear what the Marquis has to say about gods, won’t we?”

When Olivia extended her hand, a sly smile twisting her lips—hardly innocent or gentle—Cryer readily took it. Just as he always had since the first day he held her hand.

“Marquis.”

“Your Highness.”

The visit was unannounced. The Heinder mansion was wrapped in a tomb-like silence.

Bonita, dressed in plain, colorless clothing, greeted them with an unreadable face. In stark contrast, Olivia was radiant, dressed as though she were headed to a ball. Cryer too wore finery that favored beauty over practicality.

A servant brought only tepid water, not tea or sweets, and left. Then Bonita finally spoke.

“My apologies. We don’t drink tea in the mansion. Someone has gone to fetch some leaves, but—”

“Don’t mind it. We came without notice. Though… it does seem you’ve been quite interested in me lately, Marquis.”

Olivia smiled as she spoke, her words sharpened beneath the pleasantry. Bonita simply bowed her head, offering no reply.

Raising the heavy crystal glass to wet her lips, Olivia cut straight to the point.

“Marquis, do you think I’m unfit to be the next Emperor?”

“Of course not.”

It was a dangerous question, but Bonita answered without hesitation. Olivia, as though she’d expected the response, nodded calmly.

“Then that eases His Majesty’s concern.”

Looking at Bonita through the carved glass, Olivia added evenly,

“The servant who was causing trouble in the Princess’s palace has resigned, just as you wished.”

“So she stepped down of her own accord. At least she had some shame.”

“Well, she claimed she wanted rest, having gone through personal hardships.”

The words were bait, but Bonita didn’t flinch.

“Then she lacked responsibility.”

“Responsibility, you say.”

Olivia echoed the word, then asked pointedly,

“Even when swept up in unavoidable misfortune?”

Bonita shook her head firmly.

“The only unavoidable misfortunes are natural disasters. That servant made a choice of her own accord.”

“Her own accord?”

“Yes. No one forced her to.”

“Hmm. I see.”

Olivia tilted her head, as though agreeing, before adding casually,

“I hear she sought refuge at a temple. Seeking the god’s mercy.”

At the mention of “god,” a change flickered in Bonita’s dull eyes, a strange gleam lighting them. Both Olivia and Cryer caught it instantly.

Then, a faint smile curved Bonita’s lips.

“Mercy of the gods… I hope she found the right one, so that her sins may be cleansed.”

Olivia clenched her hand within her skirts. Too blatant. She wasn’t even trying to hide it. Why?

“Well, gods are far removed from Your Highness, aren’t they? Bolschek has a long history of standing against them.”

“Perhaps. The past belongs to the past.”

Olivia’s vague reply left Bonita lowering her gaze, fingers brushing her glass. Silence stretched, the two women weighing each other.

At last, Bonita’s eyes shifted to Cryer, standing quietly behind Olivia like her shadow.

“You.”

She didn’t call him “knight,” and both Olivia and Cryer noticed. Bonita didn’t care.

“Still no thought of returning to Norden? Even now, if you say the word, I will arrange it.”

She even spoke respectfully to him, a mere knight. But Cryer remained unmoved.

“This is where I belong.”

The words were a stake driven deep—confirmation that Bonita was tied to the Ancient God.

That a knight of Norden would cut off the words of an Imperial marquis and even drop honorifics was enough to be called insolent. Yet, no one in the room found it strange. Because all of them knew exactly who Cryer really was.

Bonita fell silent. Cryer rested a hand on Olivia’s shoulder and continued.

“There’s no going back to before we met. If I don’t hold the Princess’s hand, I’ll be lost.”

And he meant it. Without her hand in his, he would sink once more into that lightless void, never to rise again.

He could never let go. He would never allow it.

As though she’d heard his thoughts, Olivia placed her hand over his and spoke.

“Was that an answer, Marquis? Or should I call you something else?”

Her lips smiled, but her blue eyes were sharp as a blade, piercing Bonita.

Bonita bowed her head, her expression barren.

“Just personal curiosity. I see. No return.”

She looked at Cryer with lifeless eyes, but said nothing more.

Clap.

Olivia broke the heavy air with a light clap and a painted smile.

“This was a very productive conversation, Marquis.”

“I’m honored, Your Highness.”

Bonita remained expressionless, but she did not refuse Olivia’s extended hand. They shook.

Her skin was rough like desert sand yet slick like fish scales, but Olivia’s smile never faltered.

When Olivia returned from the Heinder estate, she was completely drained.

“Ugh, too heavy!”

She tossed aside the jewels hanging from her body and immediately changed out of the cumbersome gown.

“God, I’m exhausted.”

As soon as the servants who had swarmed around her finished their work and left, Olivia collapsed onto her desk, cheek pressed to the wood.

She had known Bonita Heinder would not be an easy opponent, and had expected the visit to be draining. Even so, the reality surpassed her expectations.

Now it was certain: the Marquis of Heinder was entangled with the Ancient God, and she supported that cursed deity’s will of “purification.”

But knowing did not mean Olivia could act. She had no grounds to drag Bonita down from her title and banish her to obscurity.

The House of Heinder was not one a princess could topple without cause, and Bonita was not the sort to surrender willingly.

“To think the absolute worst possibility would turn out to be true. Things just got a whole lot more troublesome.”