The Princess Wants to Live (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 15
“Trash, you say!”
The knight’s face instantly flushed crimson as if he’d just received the utmost insult, but Cryer didn’t so much as bat an eyelash as he shot back.
“Calling trash ‘trash’ is only natural—what else would you call trash but trash?”
“You—!”
Whether he’d forgotten he’d snuck in or was so furious at Cryer’s very presence that it erased all else from his mind,
the knight bellowed loudly and charged straight toward Cryer.
Yet he couldn’t draw his sword as he’d intended.
The moment his eyes met those crimson trails slicing through the darkness,
he froze in place.
Veins bulged on the back of the knight’s hand gripping his sword hilt, yet he couldn’t even blink.
It felt as though the slightest exhale would unleash a monstrous, utterly merciless beast upon him, tearing him limb from limb before he could resist.
Yes. The knight now stood face-to-face with Cryer.
Merely by revealing himself, this man overwhelmed everyone around him.
Just a fleeting glance from him sent waves of suffocating pressure coiling from the feet upward, weighing down shoulders until knees buckled.
Such men were what the world commonly called dominators.
Swallowing hard without even realizing it, the knight soon became aware of his own action and, seething with humiliation, tried to speak.
But all that escaped his wide-open mouth was ragged gasps.
“Hah… hah… hah!”
He couldn’t even recall when he’d stopped breathing—he had to pant for a long while just to release the breath he’d been holding.
Cryer looked down at him without moving an inch from his spot,
merely watching the knight like a predator hidden within shadows.
Desperate to shake off the choking sensation gripping his throat, the knight mustered all his strength and roared,
“What makes you any different from me? You’re nothing but the princess’s bedmate—!”
But before he could finish his shout, his eyes widened in shock.
A flash of light seemed to erupt before him—and his voice vanished entirely.
– Sssk.
In the next instant, the knight collapsed silently, his eyes already dim. Cryer, who had drawn and swung his sword faster than the knight could perceive, casually flicked the blade clean.
– Plop.
A droplet of blood sprang from the blade, tracing a crimson arc across the corridor.
As Cryer sheathed his weapon, he bared his teeth in a savage grin.
“They just keep multiplying.”
Late into the night, Cryer strolled leisurely toward the princess’s quarters to deal with yet another piece of trash that had slithered in.
Not long after he left, a servant from the princess’s palace appeared.
Heaving a brief sigh, the servant shook his head.
“I thought tonight would be quiet.”
And so, once again, a foreign knight was carted out of the princess’s palace, officially recorded as having died by accident.
While Cryer was tidying up the trash inside the palace,
the princess’s office shone as brilliantly as if it had banished the darkness of night itself.
And as if it were the most natural thing, two people now occupied the office:
Olivia and Cryer.
A man and a woman alone together in the office—not her bedroom—for several days and nights on end.
In truth, they were merely trapped there, unable to leave until they finished urgent duties disguised as punishment under the emperor’s orders…
But anyone unaware of the circumstances would inevitably assume the worst.
Even the emperor himself, who trusted Olivia implicitly, had eventually yielded to the court’s gossip and sent his most trusted aide.
“Your Highness.”
Sebastian, the emperor’s closest confidant—who had served Olivia since before her birth, even long before that—bowed respectfully with a composed expression.
“Huu… Sebastian.”
Olivia exhaled a long sigh, flung her arms wide, and made no effort to conceal her exasperation.
“Do these documents look like I have time for anything else?”
Seeing the mountain of paperwork stacked higher than Olivia herself, Sebastian bowed deeply.
“My apologies.”
“No, it’s fine. With all the rumors flying around, I suppose His Majesty just wanted you to check for yourself.”
Though Cryer was completely hidden behind the towering pile of documents, Sebastian didn’t even glance his way.
He trusted Olivia’s word as much as the emperor did—enough to believe her even if heaven and earth were turned upside down.
Surprisingly, it was Olivia who called out from behind the documents.
“Cryer! Wait, I—”
Before she could finish, Cryer appeared silently from behind the papers, as if materializing from thin air.
Sebastian, meeting his gaze for just an instant, gave a slight bow—but his fingertips trembled faintly.
After all, the man before him radiated such palpable menace that the paperwork mountain seemed to transform into something else entirely.
And that faint scent of blood permeating the air—it wasn’t just his imagination.
He’d just come from verifying the corpses being carried out of the princess’s palace moments ago.
As if reading Sebastian’s thoughts, Olivia spoke up.
“You heard, right? Trash disposal today.”
“Yes.”
“Every single one has been handled by Cryer.”
“I apologize. I’ll tighten security around the princess’s palace immediately.”
As Sebastian bowed deeply, Olivia waved him off at once.
“No, there’s no need.”
She’d already known the palace defenses had been breached, yet she’d given explicit orders:
“Just leave it be.”
If they reinforced the palace guard and blocked the vermin from crawling in at night, how could she eliminate them?
It was far less troublesome to quietly dispose of the nuisances lurking near the palace now—she couldn’t afford to lose that opportunity.
“It’s all under control. Besides, it’s part of his role, isn’t it?”
Though this duty had been thrust upon him unexpectedly, Cryer nodded obediently.
“Yes, it is.”
Hearing Cryer address her so formally in front of Sebastian, Olivia’s fine hairs stood on end.
She reflexively opened her mouth but quickly clamped it shut.
When alone, it didn’t matter—but between them stood the unbreachable wall of status.
Outwardly, Olivia was the sole Imperial Princess of Bolshayk and heir to the throne, while Cryer was merely a nameless knight from the Kingdom of Norden.
Of course, if one looked beneath the surface, such distinctions meant nothing—but that truth remained a secret known only to the two of them.
After a long, silent moment studying Cryer—whose sharp fangs remained carefully concealed—Sebastian bowed his head again.
There was no need to worry about court rumors, yet to keep such a beast so close to Her Highness…
It caused concern of another sort entirely—but at least the beast obediently bowed his head before the princess.
“I shall keep that in mind.”
“Good. The rumors will keep swirling, but please remind His Majesty once more: whatever they imagine is absolutely not the case.”
“Yes. And, Your Highness…”
“Hmm?”
“Might your sleeping arrangements be… uncomfortable?”
At Sebastian’s cautious inquiry, Olivia waved a dismissive hand.
“No. Everyone’s been so considerate—I always sleep comfortably. It’s just that lately, I’ve been having trouble falling asleep.”
“I’ll bring you a tea to aid your rest.”
Touched by the genuine worry underlying his stiff tone, Olivia didn’t refuse.
Just as Sebastian turned toward the door and grasped the handle—
“Sebastian.”
Olivia called out to stop him.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
He turned back and gave a light bow. Olivia simply gazed at him, saying nothing.
Sebastian, famously so calm and composed that rumors claimed even a lightning strike beside him wouldn’t startle him.
In her first life, she couldn’t even imagine that composed face ever breaking.
Yet even Sebastian had broken.
Not from his own death—but from hers…
When the imperial palace fell in her first life and death crept ever closer to Olivia,
“Your Highness. I’ll hold them off. Please run—just a little farther.”
The ever-steadfast Sebastian pushed her forward, his face smeared with sweat and grime.
His hands were soaked in blood.
Most likely, that blood belonged to His Majesty the Emperor.
Yet despite his sacrifice, Olivia met a hollow, pitiful end beneath Cryer’s blade.
And again in the second life, the third…
Even in the fourth—the very last—Sebastian, gasping for breath unlike himself, gave her a faint smile.
“Your Highness… it was an honor to serve you.”
She’d heard those same words four times—and her heart shattered anew each time.
Olivia stepped quickly toward Sebastian.
“Sebastian.”
“Yes.”
“Sebastian.”
“Yes.”
She called his name again and again, and each time, without fail, he answered her calmly.
After a long, quiet look up at him, Olivia finally reached out her hand.
“There’s always something stuck here.”
She gently brushed the crease beside his right eye, smiling softly.
To Sebastian, her words made no sense—utterly random and without context.
Yet he showed no confusion, didn’t flinch, and didn’t cover the spot she’d touched.
He simply bowed politely.
“I’m honored.”
At that, Olivia nodded firmly and spoke.
“Good. You may go now.”
The moment Sebastian, bowing deeply, stepped out the door,
Olivia hurried into the maze of paperwork, searching for Cryer—who had vanished as if returning to his original spot—and narrowed her eyes.
“Cryer.”
She called his name, planted her hands firmly on her hips, and shook her head.
“At this point, covering up the deaths of foreign knights as accidents is reaching its limits.”
Cryer, who had been reclining on the sofa skimming a Bolshayk history book, replied indifferently.
“How about hanging a few up as examples?”
“Don’t even suggest such gruesome decorations.”
Olivia grimaced, and Cryer lowered the book, tilting his head.
“I never called it decoration. I’ve noticed for a while—you say such ruthless things with that gentle face of yours.”
“Appearances and true nature rarely match.”
Just as a kind-faced youth might be a serial killer sacrificing people to some dark god.
“As the saying goes: You can measure ten fathoms of water, but never fathom the depths of a man’s heart.”
“Ah, Bolshayk wisdom, is it?”
He tapped the cover of the history book he’d set aside and added,
“But isn’t that phrase used in different circumstances?”
“Well, as long as the meaning gets across.”
Olivia, ever shameless, tilted her chin up in that familiar gesture and asked without expecting much—just as she always did.
“So? Find anything useful?”
“No. There’s plenty about gods, but most of it revolves around fighting them.”
“Hmm… we still have plenty of sources to check…”
She’d hoped against hope—but, as expected, nothing helpful.
Cryer picked up the book again and casually brought up the topic once more.
“About hanging them as examples—”
“I already said no gruesome decorations.”
“It’s not just a throwaway remark. We truly need to issue a warning to everyone. Not necessarily hanging—another method would do.”
“Hmm. You have been dealing with a lot of trash lately.”
“And it’s only increasing.”
Hadn’t she just told him not to kill them all, since there were far too many?
In the next instant, a low voice rolled softly into Olivia’s ear.
“Shall I just clear them all out at once?”
Male lead is a Divorced Husband
She said to him: “Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change it!”
Liu Changning transmigrated into a female cannon fodder character in a female-dominant novel.
After reading the first half of the novel’s plot, the first thing she did upon transmigration was to divorce the Pan Jinlian-style male protagonist she had just married.
She indulged herself, pretending to be ugly and poor.
But as time passed, the way that man looked at her became more and more unusual…
Liu Changning was dumbfounded: Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change!
――
This lifetime, Pei Yuanshao was rejected by the same woman twice!
The first time, she drove him away. Forced by the situation, he endured the waves of anger in his heart, yielding and humbling himself.
That person lay slanted on a rocking chair, her sallow face emotionless: “If you don’t want a divorce, go cook!”
Pei Yuanshao’s face was dark and gloomy: “You!”
The second time, after the crisis in Jinling City was resolved, the new emperor sent someone to pick him up. He turned around, stammering: “I… I have to go. If you keep me…”
That person lay on the kang bed, her back to him, as if she had long anticipated this day, crisp and clear: “Goodbye!”
Pei Yuanshao was so angry his fingers trembled: “You… you!”
The mission of family and country made him restrain himself, averting his eyes and turning to leave this broken household.
Two years later, they met again. Seeing her ethereal face, his body shook like a sieve.
“She was originally a ‘she’!”
At the Qionglin Banquet, the top scholar of the imperial examination, a talented person with exceptional speech and conduct, all the unmarried young gentlemen from aristocratic families looked at her with shy and timid eyes.
The peerless imperial official Pei Yuanshao felt the anger in his heart erupt. He pointed at the woman surrounded by the crowd at the Qionglin Banquet, his thin lips slightly curled: “Little sister, I wants that person to be the wife-master of my Mingde Prince Manor.”
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