The Princess Wants to Live (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 14
Cryer knelt on one knee before her, gazing up at Olivia.
Olivia’s lips parted as she looked down at him—silent, wordless, merely staring at her—but no sound escaped.
Slowly, ever so deliberately, Cryer took Olivia’s hand and pressed the back of it against his forehead.
Olivia’s blue eyes trembled as if shaken by an earthquake, and from between his lips came a voice deeper and quieter than the bottomless depths of an endless well.
“I swear. I won’t harm you.”
His vow sounded like an incantation.
Like a spell.
It pierced deep into Olivia’s heart.
And that very fact plunged her into a pit of confusion.
Wasn’t this the man who had ignited the Continental War and drowned the entire continent in blood?
Yet, in Olivia’s eyes, Cryer appeared purer and more sacred than anyone—no, than anything—else.
Purity… what? Sacred…? This man?
Her mind rattled in bewilderment.
Just who in the world was this man…?
“You.”
Olivia continued, her expression indescribable.
“No matter who you were or what you did in the past, one thing is certain.”
“What’s that?”
“You were never an ordinary person—even before your resurrection. Never.”
At that, Cryer gave a soft chuckle and lightly flicked her forehead.
“Whenever you fear me in the future, remember this vow.”
“You never even made such a promise to His Majesty when you were young.”
Olivia rubbed the spot he’d flicked, then firmly pressed down on Cryer’s back, solid as steel.
“Go now. Go find out what’s happening. I’ll wait for you here.”
Even now, she still couldn’t smell blood, and she had no idea what “corruption of the land” even meant—but that was fine.
Because she could trust Cryer.
Cryer, obediently stepping away as she pushed him, soon discovered several more corpses.
How much time had passed? His eyes darkened fiercely as he examined the sticky earth reeking of blood and the bodies.
Olivia’s eyes widened as she realized the air around him had grown so heavy it seemed to warp everything nearby.
“Cry—”
In the next instant, Olivia felt her body lift off the ground and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.
She had no idea when he’d picked her up—or when he’d carried her back to the center of the clearing—but Cryer spoke.
“Your Highness.”
“Yeah.”
“This doesn’t seem like an ordinary disappearance or murder case.”
Olivia’s face hardened as her eyes followed the tip of the branch he held.
“This is…”
“Yes.”
His low voice resonated as he pointed to the crushed sigil on the forehead of the already desiccated corpse.
“The mark of the Ancient God.”
***
The man responsible for the corpses branded with the mark of the Ancient God was in despair.
“Not enough. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough. It’s still not enough.”
Muttering the same words over and over, he began counting the objects before him one by one.
“One, two, three, four…”
The items touched by his fingertips varied widely.
A rag doll, a ring, torn scraps of clothing, fingernails, hair matted with something unidentifiable, and so on.
Each item came from a different person.
Offerings dedicated to the Ancient God.
After laying out their remnants and muttering madly to himself, the man suddenly froze.
“I need money.”
People had grown cautious, keeping their children indoors and avoiding exposure, making it nearly impossible to find new sacrifices.
For several nights in a row, he’d hunted for prey—but returned empty-handed each time.
He rubbed his face, burying his unwavering faith deep within, then changed into neat clothing.
—Click.
No sooner had he stepped out of his house than he encountered a neighbor.
“Well, well! Haven’t seen you around much lately.”
The neighbor greeted him warmly, and the man smiled back politely.
“Good day to you. I’ve had some errands to run.”
“Don’t know what you’re up to, but take it easy. Even the young won’t stay young forever.”
The man nodded earnestly at every trivial remark from his neighbor, wearing a friendly smile.
“Yes.”
“Oh, wait a moment.”
The neighbor disappeared into his house after saying just that, but the man remained standing quietly in place, still smiling.
“Hope you’re not unwell—you look a bit worn out. Here, eat this.”
The basket the neighbor quickly brought back carried the comforting scent of fresh bread and mouthwatering food.
The man accepted the basket and bowed his head.
“Thank you. I’ll enjoy it.”
“Don’t mention it—you fixed my roof without asking for anything last time. Say, my back’s been troubling me, and this chair keeps creaking.”
The neighbor looked at him with hopeful expectation, but the man shook his head apologetically.
“I’m sorry. I’ll likely be late today.”
“Oh, I see. Well then, come by anytime you’re free—I’d appreciate it.”
Somehow, it had become taken for granted that the man would fix the chair, yet he maintained his gentle smile and nodded obediently.
“Yes. I’ll do that.”
After bowing deeply, he resumed walking down the road, and the neighbor muttered to himself, shaking his head.
“Such a kind young man.”
A diligent, honest youth who’d never caused trouble—not even once raised his voice.
He often interacted with others and played with neighborhood children.
Always smiling, always listening patiently to others’ stories.
Who could possibly imagine?
That he was the serial killer recently spreading terror through whispered rumors from mouth to mouth.
Leaving his neighbor behind, the man trudged onward.
Passersby greeted him cheerfully, and he invariably returned their greetings as he walked for a long while.
At last, he arrived at one of the branch offices operated by the Taren family’s trading company.
“Good day.”
“Oh? Good heavens! Are you all right?”
“Yes. I apologize for disappearing without notice for so long.”
“Oh, it’s fine.”
The shopkeeper accepted the man back without complaint, despite his unannounced absence.
“Hard workers like you are rare these days. Say, do you happen to know…?”
The shopkeeper asked about a fellow worker’s whereabouts, but the man only shook his head.
“Huh. Even you don’t know… I was wondering if both you and he had gone missing. You remember him—the one who always carried that rag doll, claiming it was his daughter’s keepsake…”
At the shopkeeper’s murmuring, the man bowed deeply and headed toward his workstation.
Once he stepped into the shadows, his lips slowly parted, and soon twisted into a wide, unsettling grin.
“He became a sublime offering.”
The fleeting joy that crossed his face as he recalled his missing colleague’s fate—far beyond the shopkeeper’s hearing—didn’t last long.
“If only I could do just a little more.”
He rolled his eyes around, searching for prey among his coworkers, but even that proved difficult.
With rumors of disappearances and murders spreading palpably, everyone had grown wary and withdrawn.
He’d have to gather money and hire someone, after all.
Bowing his head deeply, the man immersed himself in work.
“Whew.”
After finishing a portion of his tasks, he leaned against the wall, gazing up at the sky, then slowly bent his legs and sank down.
He was so close to his goal—just a little more left—but now he’d have to take a detour.
But someone once said: when one door closes, another opens.
“What are you doing here?”
A cheerful voice dropped lightly onto the crown of his head as he sat hunched, forehead resting on his knees.
He instinctively looked up—and his vision filled with gently swaying pink hair.
“I heard you’re the hardest worker here.”
The man said nothing, only stared fixedly at the woman who’d suddenly appeared before him.
Pale hands, smooth nails, and even a plainly styled dress that couldn’t hide its fine quality.
Moreover, the woman seemed to make no effort to conceal her noble status.
“The branch manager mentioned they’re short-staffed lately.”
Anyone working here wouldn’t refer to the branch manager so casually, and any commoner not employed here certainly wouldn’t address the Taren Trading Company’s branch manager so bluntly.
“If you’re struggling with anything, tell me. Diligent, hardworking people like you are impossible to find—even for money.”
Therefore, this woman before him must be…
“I’ll resolve it in the name of Taren.”
Ambre Taren declared brightly, and the man immediately began reciting a tale woven with eighty percent truth and twenty percent falsehood.
“Hmm. Money, you say? How much do you need? No—here, take this first.”
She pulled a pouch from her robe and handed it to him.
The heavy pouch clinked metallically, clearly brimming with coin even without looking inside.
“If you need more, just ask the branch manager… No.”
Ambre shook her head and added,
“Tell me through the branch manager.”
Ambre Taren extended her hand out of pure goodwill—for the branch manager, who’d been distressed over staffing shortages and the tense atmosphere—and genuine compassion for the visibly struggling man.
“I’ll always be here to help you.”
***
Late that night, as the man who’d received the coin pouch from Ambre knocked on his neighbor’s door,
the palace of the Princess lay submerged in stillness beneath a moonlit sky graced by a crescent moon.
—Tap.
And breaking that stillness, someone hurried purposefully toward the palace’s inner chambers.
Running low to the ground, he stopped abruptly.
A long shadow stretched across his path.
The knight instinctively lowered his center of gravity and gripped his sword hilt.
Normally, foreign visitors were forbidden from carrying weapons within the imperial palace.
However, so many foreign knights had met with “accidental deaths” recently that carrying a weapon for self-defense had become tacitly permitted.
Of course, they were officially labeled “accidents”…
But since every knight seemed to die after stepping out into the night dew, whispers had begun circulating quietly among them.
“The man monopolizing the Princess’s favor is using underhanded schemes to kill off the knights.”
Recalling that rumor, the knight’s face twisted into a fearsome scowl.
“Show yourself.”
He growled, gripping his sword hilt tightly, ready to charge at any moment.
As one of the rare few who was truly a knight—not merely in name—he burned with determination to eliminate the scheming impostor enjoying the Princess’s favor.
Then, from the shifting shadow, a low voice resonated as if rising from a deep abyss.
“One taken care of, another appears. Another dealt with, yet another follows.”
The figure leaning against the pillar slowly straightened and took a step forward.
Half his face remained hidden in shadow, but the sneer curling his lips was unmistakably clear.
“Did you set a queue for trash?”
Male lead is a Love-Obsessed Merman
When he discovers she has gone, he risks everything to pursue her on land, enduring agonizing pain to transform his tail into human legs…
One-line summary: Male lead chases female lead. The male lead’s love is a bit sick, an invincible love brain.
Synopsis
During a voyage at sea, Jiang Yang accidentally captures a merman.
Servant: I heard that mermen are fierce and brutal.
Jiang Yang looks at the merman obediently rubbing her palm like a puppy: “You call this fierce and brutal?”
Servant: I heard that mermen have no human nature.
Jiang Yang looks at the merman with wet puppy eyes, obsessively calling her ‘A Yang’ like a childish infant: “You call this having no human nature?”
With great difficulty, she releases the merman back into the sea and returns to shore.
Who would have thought that in less than half a month, the merman, who should have been freely wandering in the South China Sea, would shed his scales, endure the pain of losing his tail, transform into human legs, and come ashore to find her?
He kneels at her feet, rubbing her palm, with merman tears rolling down: “A Yang, don’t abandon me.”
_____
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