TPWTL 94

#94. I Will Kill the Princess

The moment the words left my mouth, the tension that had briefly eased tightened around my throat again.

I had thought this was a question I would never be able to ask aloud.

I had already realized before that the only one who could give me an answer was Olivia. But I never thought I could ask Her Highness the Princess such a personal thing.

Yet, the moment I felt confused about “family,” the moment I heard about “family’s” past—
I blurted it out without realizing it.

And then, an answer came back, clear and undeniable, leaving no room for other interpretations. It reached Suga’s shrinking ears.

“No. It’s not strange.”

At the overly simple, swift reply, the strength drained from Suga’s tense shoulders in an instant.

With the child’s mouth left hanging open in a daze, Olivia gently cupped their chin and closed it for them. She returned an answer so common, yet exactly what Suga needed right now.

“Family doesn’t have to be bound by blood. And time isn’t what matters either.”

Then, she added a phrase passed down for generations in Bolscheik.

“There’s a word—shikgu. It means ‘those you eat together with,’ but it carries the same meaning as family.”

“Eating together…”

“Yes. Even if you’re not tied by blood, just sitting down at the same table and sharing a meal can make you family. So, Suga.”

Olivia flicked the tip of the child’s nose and smiled.

“Don’t trouble yourself over that. If you feel someone is family, then they are.”

As she said this, Olivia was also thinking of Anbruch—just as Suga was.

She didn’t need to be told to know that the person the child meant was her.

When Anbruch had declared she would take Suga, Olivia had felt not just surprise, but bewilderment.

Anbruch claimed it was simply because she could tell Olivia didn’t want to keep the child in the princess’s palace. But if that were all, she could have sent Suga to one of Taren’s many secret villas.

Instead, Anbruch said she would go together with the child to Tarenja.

And one day, after Suga had been staying in Tarenja, Olivia casually asked her:

“Was there a particular reason you insisted on keeping Suga by your side?”

Anbruch had smiled brightly, without hesitation, and replied:

“Because I want to help Your Highness and Suga!”

Olivia could not understand it, but for Anbruch, that reason alone was enough.

And her “help” did not stop at merely providing Suga a place to stay.

She truly wanted to help the child. Perhaps instinctively, she gave the child exactly what they needed.

Just before parting with Olivia, she had whispered shyly:

“And maybe it’s because I’m an only child… but it feels like I finally have a little sibling. I’m so happy.”

There was no doubt—it was Anbruch’s honest feeling.

And Olivia, too, found herself sympathizing with that sincerity.

For she, too, felt something similar whenever she looked at Suga.

“And one more thing. If you feel that way, then surely the other person already thought of you that way first.”

The moment Olivia fell silent—
As if by magic—

“Suga? Are you asleep? Isaac scolded me for wandering around at night, but I really wanted you to try this, so I brought… Oh? Your Highness? What are you doing here at this hour?”

The door opened without a knock, and Anbruch stepped in, dressed lightly.

She swiftly gave her respects to Olivia, then went straight to Suga’s side.

She naturally took the child’s hand. Olivia said something to her, but Suga didn’t hear a word of it.

They only squeezed Anbruch’s hand tighter.

From the small basket swinging in her other hand drifted the scent of lemon madeleines—something Suga hadn’t even realized they loved until now.

And then, pain flared from the brand, sharper than ever before.

But somehow, the child didn’t mind.

Perhaps instinctively, they realized that this pain was not a bad one.

And so that night—

After being chosen by the ancient god, after losing everything when they had nearly nothing to begin with—
For the first time, Suga accepted as family the one their heart pointed to.

Since being assigned to guard the diplomat from Norden, Keslan had led a monotonous life.

Just as expected, there was no one in the Empire who would dare threaten a diplomat. But the bigger reason was that Greta, the diplomat herself, hardly met people or went outside at all.

She stayed almost entirely in the special rooms of the palace reserved for diplomats. She didn’t even take walks.

If Keslan didn’t see her with his own eyes every morning and evening, he might have thought something had happened to her.

She didn’t even keep attendants at her side.

“If there are people around me, my nerves get on edge,” she had said once.

At the time, he had accepted it without much thought. But looking back, it was an odd thing to say.

She was a diplomat.

And diplomats were, by nature, those who ran about in foreign lands for the benefit of their nation. Inevitably, diplomats were surrounded by people. If they weren’t, then they had to go find crowded places themselves.

Yet Greta claimed she disliked people. She didn’t let anyone near her room—neither Keslan, her guard, nor even the minimum number of attendants.

Then how did she conduct diplomacy…?

Even as he stood watch, unmoving like the model knight, doubts chased each other endlessly in Keslan’s head.

Unlike the reputation he had among others, he was not reckless but cautious, not bold but meticulous.

That made him skilled at observing his surroundings and noticing when something was off. But he never voiced his suspicions.

And, above all, he had excellent intuition. He had never told anyone, and thus never fully realized it himself, but his instincts were nearly superhuman.

Coupled with decent luck, whenever he felt something was suspicious or ominous, it almost always proved true.

But this time, his thoughts were interrupted.

“Sir Keslan.”

From inside came Greta’s voice, calling him—she who usually only repeated brief greetings.

Click.

He opened the door at once and entered, suppressing the sudden wave of unpleasantness that washed over him as he approached her.

“You called for me.”

“Yes. I think I’ll have to request an audience with Her Highness the Princess soon, and I wanted to check a few things.”

“If it’s within my ability, I’ll do everything I can to help.”

Without hesitation, Keslan gave the model answer any knight should to the one under his protection. But then, he felt a chill crawl up the back of his neck, raising goosebumps.

It was only for an instant. His trained body betrayed no sign of it outwardly. Only he floundered within, caught in a whirlpool of confusion.

What was that sinister feeling just now?

Could it be an ambush—?

But he couldn’t continue the thought.

“There’s no need to do everything you can. You won’t remember it anyway.”

At Greta’s cryptic words, he opened his mouth to question her.

But then her eyes gleamed like a snake’s—
And Keslan’s eyes lost focus.

Suppressing the stabbing pain in her skull, Greta spoke.

“I will kill the Princess.”

“I will kill the Princess.”

The exact same words spilled from Keslan’s lips at the same time.

Greta hadn’t turned him into a puppet through some elaborate scheme or careful plan.

It was simply the result of an impulse: Why don’t I try it once?

An impulse born of frustration, impatience, thirst, and desire.

She had come all the way to the Empire, yet had not seen Cryer even once. Not even from afar—not even a glimpse of his hair.

She told herself she had to endure. She had to be patient. It was His will. She muttered this to herself countless times.

But still, every moment, every second, flames rose inside her.

Not flames to “purify” the world, but flames of murderous intent aimed at Olivia, who stood at Cryer’s side.

And what stoked that fire further was Bonita’s strange behavior.

Greta was not stupid. No matter how blinded by love for Cryer, she could still sense Bonita’s subtle efforts to prevent her from meeting him—or the Princess.

And she knew that the reason Bonita gave was not the whole truth.

Whether it was the intuition of one in love, or the instinct of one who had bargained with an ancient god—Greta grew more uneasy the longer the Princess and Cryer were together.

So the resolve she’d had upon arriving in the Empire—to avoid creating new puppets unless absolutely necessary—was forgotten.

Her “purification” was never some sophisticated plan anyway. It was brute force—smashing everything with Cryer himself.

If she had been the type to think rationally and find the most efficient path to her goals, she would never have “purified” her own father, a mage, with her own hands.

So it wasn’t unusual for her to cast aside reason and rationality.

When she learned from Bonita that her guard was actually a knight with considerable background and reputation, she thought of a new plan.

She would turn him into a dagger—one that could kill the Princess outright, or at least wound her at an unexpected moment.

Her puppet-making, begun with this unwholesome impulse and seemingly plausible idea, soon reached its limits.

As she had half-expected, controlling Norden’s king completely while also manipulating a new puppet was far too much.

Keslan spoke only once, repeating her words. Then no more. No, he couldn’t say more.

“This… is my limit, huh. Controlling two puppets at once really is impossible.”

Gnawing at her thumb until it bled, Greta’s eyes grew bloodshot with burst vessels from the pain.

“If only they were closer… But no, the distance is too great. Should I just give up on the puppet in Norden? No. If I do that, I’ll lose my reason to stay in the Empire.”

Muttering to herself, she turned her bloodshot gaze back to Keslan.

And just like Norden’s king, her puppet, the light of focus vanished from his eyes. He no longer blinked, as if forgetting that it was something living beings must do.

Plink, plink.

Sweat dripped from Greta’s brow, ran down her chin, and splattered on the floor.

“Haa… haa… haa…”

Her body convulsed as if struck, her breath came rough and ragged.

And Keslan’s eyes widened with confusion as he saw her collapse onto the sofa, gasping for air.