#88. Turning the Continent Against Me
Cryer leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, watching the seemingly endless quarrel—or whatever it was—between the two of them play out like a broken record.
In a way, those two were lucky.
On any normal day, Cryer would have minimized the time spent away from Olivia and quickly squashed such pointless, youthful bickering between lovers.
But this time, simply watching Olivia quietly made his own rising desires flare up unexpectedly, and he needed a little distance to keep them in check.
I didn’t realize my patience was this short.
Or maybe I’ve never had much patience to begin with.
His gaze drifted to the mark on his collarbone.
What had he been before this mark—before his “resurrection”?
“I’ve been looking, but it seems that in recorded history, finding you will be difficult.”
Olivia’s voice echoed in his mind and faded.
Perhaps she was right—maybe he truly was a “discarded record.”
And, given the circumstances, that was the only plausible possibility.
A discarded record… What kind of grave crime could have erased him from history?
Even thinking that, Cryer felt no particular curiosity about his “past.”
The reason he sought his past was solely to understand the extent of his own abilities.
Even without memories of his former self, he had never wavered in his sense of identity or in his goals.
Moreover…
“I’d turn the entire continent against me, if I had to.”
And there was Olivia—willing to risk turning the whole continent into enemies for his sake.
Whatever his past, as long as she needed him, it didn’t matter.
But what if… if his past had caused him to be chosen as a slave of an ancient god?
Then the first question he needed an answer to from Greta was set.
As he gathered his thoughts and lifted his head, he noticed that Ambre and Isaac, who had been chattering noisily, had gone silent, and even the surroundings had quieted.
“Is it over?”
“Huh? No. You’re just getting started!”
“Milady, that’s not—yes, sorry.”
Ambre’s lively response earned a frown from Isaac, but he lowered his head anyway.
“Fine. I’ll handle the disguise myself. Get the rest ready.”
Cryer nodded toward the group, and Ambre immediately complied while Isaac let out a sigh of relief.
Sugar, catching Cryer’s gaze, tried to hiccup again, but felt the warmth of Ambre’s hand pressing hers, letting her exhale deeply.
At that moment, Sugar slightly furrowed her brow. Something near the mark had twinged…
But the thought was immediately scattered by a low voice lurking in the darkness.
Cryer looked down at Sugar with eyes like polished glass and said,
“Let’s start the experiment to identify those with marks.”
While Cryer was away, Olivia, as usual, was buried under a mountain of paperwork.
She skimmed through the documents from start to finish, unsure if she was truly reading them, and slammed her red stamp onto the last page without hesitation.
“Trying to slack off again, huh? Can’t even earn your keep…”
Her unprincess-like curse trailed off as she noticed movement near the door.
“Come in.”
“Your Highness, these are the documents regarding filling the vacant servant positions.”
Her gaze, previously fixed solely on the documents, lifted.
After signing the last page, she immediately grabbed the documents regarding the servants. She skimmed through them quickly—nothing unusual.
There was nothing particularly notable, but considering how this new servant had entered the palace—Marquis Hynder had petitioned the emperor himself to address the palace’s discipline—it would have been foolish not to be suspicious.
“Have they entered the palace?”
“Yes. They’re waiting.”
“Hmm.”
Olivia tapped the documents thoughtfully. If the person were suspicious, the safest option would have been to keep them away from the palace entirely.
Yet she had already dismissed that option.
Why not let a suspicious person in?
Of course, we should.
Olivia shrugged and smirked.
If you already know who’s suspicious, you can start with the small fry and work your way to the main target. There’s no need to bait them—we already have someone who can play that role perfectly. Makes things much easier.
She intended to use this servant as a reverse lure.
Though she had little expectation, the person planted as her “eye” could still be manipulated to her advantage.
The reason Greta—who wished for a continental war, in fact, for the entire continent to burn—placed a spy in the Princess’s palace rather than the Emperor’s, was obvious.
To monitor Cryer’s movements. To manipulate him for disrupting the empire and making war easier.
A diversionary tactic could work nicely.
Muttering almost inaudibly, Olivia set the documents down.
She was curious about the new servant but, as always, wouldn’t summon someone just to satisfy curiosity.
Everything seems fine as usual. Though the vacancy has been brief, the extra workload must have fallen on others. Need to fill it quickly.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Alone after the attendant left, Olivia murmured unconsciously,
“I wonder who this person is… Should I attach surveillance?”
Glancing at the spot where Cryer had been, she froze, realizing she’d forgotten he wasn’t there to answer her.
She opened and closed her mouth, staring at the empty sofa.
Grumbling, she muttered,
“What are Isaac and he doing that they haven’t returned yet?”
Back in the experiment, Cryer scanned the area, raising an eyebrow.
The seemingly clueless women of the Taren family had brought people surprisingly capable, each resembling him in body and face.
At this rate, it would be impossible for anyone to identify him at first glance.
Then he remembered Olivia’s words:
“You’d recognize me at a glance.”
Indeed, no matter the disguise, the crowd, or even magical changes, he could still find Olivia.
Tilting his head, Cryer thought: It’s time to head back. Or rather, it’s the time he wants to return.
At that moment, Sugar, participating in the experiment to identify marked individuals, reached her conclusion.
“How is it? Do you feel anything?”
Ambre asked, smiling, still holding Sugar’s hand.
“Yes. Now I’m certain.”
Sugar nodded and stared intently at one of the men leaning against the wall.
The man met her gaze—Cryer—and at that instant,
“I’m sure.”
“Enough now!”
Clapping his hands, Ambre signaled the gathered participants, who then straightened up from the wall, glancing around cautiously.
Just lean against the wall. Don’t move no matter who comes.
Despite no further instructions, the pay was good enough to overcome suspicion.
You’ll get the agreed amount from them, Ambre’s bright voice instructed. The Taren household steward nodded toward the workers as they dispersed like a receding tide.
Taking a deep breath, Sugar pressed near the mark again.
Ambre leaned down worriedly.
“Does it hurt?”
“No. Just a habit.”
Sugar smiled faintly, and Ambre beamed back.
“Work’s done. Shall we eat something delicious?”
“Oh, no.”
“Don’t like delicious food?”
“It’s not that…”
Though still holding Ambre’s hand, Sugar shook her head repeatedly.
“Then,” Ambre whispered conspiratorially, “if we go back now, there’ll be a mountain of paperwork waiting. Think of it as me saving you—shall we eat something nice?”
Sugar swallowed the ticklish sensation rising to her throat.
She was far from foolish—keenly perceptive, quick-minded, and fully aware of her precarious situation: sole survivor of a ruined family, marked by an ancient god, potentially a sacrificial offering at any moment.
Yet someone had reached out to her freely, offering companionship.
She fidgeted with Ambre’s hand, feeling a warmth in her chest she had never known before.
In such a short time, she had felt the comfort of “family” from someone she barely knew.
Isaac, who often stared at her as if piercing through her, seemed almost like a rival for affection—but in contrast, Ambre’s self-appointed role as her savior made sense.
Yet… family?
