The Princess Wants to Live (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 25
As Olivia hurried off to meet the one who had come from the Kingdom of Norden.
The streets on the outskirts of the capital, painted in crimson twilight, were quiet—only the smoke from evening meals drifted through the air.
Normally, the area would have been bustling with parents calling out for children who played outside late and the chatter of people heading home.
But as disappearances mounted and more people failed to return, everyone grew cautious and refrained from going out.
Of course, they still had to work during the day to survive, but as night fell, everyone hurried home, glancing warily around them.
And the culprit who had plunged them into terror was calmly enjoying a peaceful evening, wearing the familiar face of an ordinary, friendly neighbor.
Or at least, it appeared utterly peaceful on the surface….
—Clack. Clatter-clatter. Grrrgh.
The man’s eyes were half-rolled back as he repeatedly opened and shut the box containing the belongings of those sacrificed to the Ancient God, dragging it noisily across the floor.
“Taren, Taren, Taren, TarenTarenTaren!”
—Bang!
The man slammed the box down, his gleaming eyes fixed on the ceiling.
He licked his dry lips and grinned ear to ear.
“I’ve finally found it.”
The last sacrifice needed to summon his god.
Ambre Taren.
At first, he’d only planned to extort money…
The man licked his upper lip, fondling the purse Ambre had handed him today.
Soft pink hair, a pure and radiant smile, a face and voice brimming with goodwill.
And those sky-blue eyes.
Eyes as clear and innocent as a child’s.
“She’ll make a perfect final offering.”
He’d always dreamed of a grand finale, yet never before had he specifically chosen someone as a sacrifice.
She was the young lady of House Taren, wasn’t she?
Kidnapping her would surely be as difficult as plucking a star from the heavens.
“The harder and more exhausting the hunt, the greater the satisfaction.”
And tonight, the eve of his grand finale would begin.
—Creeeak.
The box’s lid creaked open, revealing two unmistakably empty slots.
“One, and then another.”
Places reserved for tonight’s offerings to the Ancient God.
Just as the man swept his hand over the empty spaces—
—Knock knock.
“Oppa. Mom told me to give you this.”
The child who opened the door and handed him a basket was the very same child who’d recently told him how hard his mother was struggling.
“What’s all this?”
Inside the basket the child offered were hard, shriveled bread and two sprouting potatoes.
But knowing this was nearly the last food the mother and child had, the man gently patted the child’s head.
The child’s eyebrows drooped slightly, and his lips trembled.
Kneeling to meet the child’s eye level, the man stroked the child’s forehead.
“Don’t worry. After tonight, you won’t have anything to worry about.”
The child rubbed his forehead where the man had touched it and tilted his head curiously.
It felt like something had been drawn there. And then…
“Tonight?”
The man looked down at the blinking child and spoke.
“Wait here just a moment.”
Leaving the obediently nodding child outside, he went back inside and brought out soft white bread and thin soup gentle enough not to upset a stomach.
He placed the food—gifted by a neighbor who’d once grumbled about the squeaky chair—into the child’s arms.
“Take this and eat it. You’ll need to move around a bit later.”
Though the child didn’t understand the odd words, his attention was entirely captured by the food before him.
The man wiped a drop of drool from the child’s chapped lips and smiled as kindly as he could.
“Eat this well, and come back here at dawn. Don’t leave your mother’s side.”
He handed the child a small note.
Instead of words, the note bore a simple drawing anyone could understand—
Not the already-exposed open field, but a much smaller, far more concealed spot…
The child’s thin face broke into a delighted smile as he took the note.
“Yes! Oppa, thank you so much! I’m glad I talked to you. My mom won’t cry as much now.”
With that smile, the child left the man.
And, unluckily for the child and his mother—but fortunately for the man—no one saw the child’s visit.
The man glanced around and nodded to himself.
Now, people not only avoided going outside after dark but didn’t even look out their windows—a turn of fortune, indeed.
He stood outside until the child’s head disappeared from view, then finally stepped back inside and returned to the box.
He ran his fingers over the empty spaces and whispered,
“You should thank me. I’ll purify you and your mother.”
His eyes gleamed with madness as he grinned ear to ear.
And several hours later, at the remote, tiny clearing marked on the man’s note—
—Thud.
“Oppa? Why, why are you…?”
The child trembled violently, eyes wide with disbelief, but the man’s grin stretched unnaturally wide as he grabbed the child’s head.
“I’m going to purify you. Just sleep for now.”
“No, I don’t want to! Mom, Mo—!”
—Thud.
That night, the man’s ritual—yearning for the Ancient God’s descent—imprisoned two offerings upon his altar, with only the final sacrifice yet to come.
***
Early morning after a night thick with the stench of blood.
Or rather, the hazy light of dawn, so faint no one would dispute calling it such.
Olivia was now face-to-face with the man who’d arrived from the Kingdom of Norden the previous night—but whom she’d passed out before properly meeting.
Yes, she was facing a “man.”
Clearly not a “daughter,” by anyone’s reckoning.
Olivia narrowed her eyes, studying the man from Norden.
“…His Highness instructed me to say…”
The man—Norden’s crown prince—rambled on about royal decrees, but Olivia let it wash over her like water through a sieve.
Why would some crown prince matter? She’d expected at least the Mage’s daughter, if not the Mage himself.
Given the connection to the Ancient God, their presence should have been certain.
Hmm?
Olivia, who’d been resting her chin in her hand with indifference, blinked rapidly.
If their presence was certain yet they hadn’t come, there must be a reason.
There were countless possible reasons why the Mage or his daughter couldn’t move.
For one, Norden was likely in utter chaos preparing for a sudden state funeral.
Under those circumstances, as Cryer had mentioned, the Mage—who was deeply embedded within the royal court—or his daughter wouldn’t easily travel such a distance.
Or, in the slimmest of possibilities, perhaps the “Ancient God” had been discovered by Norden’s royal family, forcing them into hiding.
Failing all that, they might simply both be ill and unable to travel.
But there was one thing Olivia needed to confirm for sure.
“Let me ask you one thing.”
Olivia abruptly cut off the man’s monologue.
“Has your kingdom recently experienced incidents similar to those currently occurring in the Empire?”
It was a clear question—anyone with functional ears could answer with a simple yes or no.
But his reply was utterly irrelevant.
“I thank the Empire for its concern. His Highness the Crown Prince specifically requested the swift apprehension of the culprit and…”
A deep furrow formed between Olivia’s brows. She raised a hand to silence him.
“You didn’t answer my question. Let me ask again: Are there ongoing cases of serial disappearances and murders in the Kingdom of Norden?”
Only then did the man give a proper answer.
“No.”
And as Olivia kept her eyes fixed on him, she sensed something strangely off.
Having survived four continent-wide wars and dodged Cryer’s blade four times,
Observing people—or things—with acute precision was a matter of life and death for Olivia.
Through those four brushes with death, her instincts had sharpened to a razor’s edge.
Thus, she alone noticed something odd in the man’s behavior—or rather, his reaction—that no one else had perceived.
Of course, giving an evasive answer instead of a proper one might be plausible if Norden intended to antagonize the Empire.
It made no sense in the current situation, but one couldn’t rule it out entirely.
But still…
“Oh dear.”
Olivia “accidentally” spilled her tea directly onto the man’s face as if her grip had slipped.
And she confirmed her suspicion beyond doubt.
Though the tea wasn’t scalding hot, the fact that he didn’t even blink as it splashed straight onto his face was unnatural.
“Are you alright?”
At Olivia’s half-hearted inquiry, the man from Norden obediently nodded.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
Hearing that, the corner of Olivia’s mouth twitched upward.
Fine, my foot.
Even if his face wasn’t soaked, the tea surely splashed into his unblinking eyes.
Definitely strange.
While the quietly standing servants rushed to clean up the spilled tea and wipe the floor—
—Knock knock.
“Come in.”
At Olivia’s permission, the door opened soundlessly, revealing Cryer.
He appeared as an utterly ordinary knight.
He’d perfectly concealed the quiet menace of a great beast—one that hid lethally sharp fangs and powerful claws.
Though, admittedly, his steel-hard, broad shoulders and unnecessarily handsome face—so striking that even the Princess would’ve fallen for him at first sight, according to Olivia—made him anything but ordinary.
And the moment Cryer stepped into the room, the man’s ever-present, mask-like smile finally changed.
His eyes—never once blinking until now—widened enormously as they fixed onto Cryer.
Deeper than the pupils of the man they inhabited, Greta’s eyes—the puppeteer behind him—sparkled with pure delight.
Ah, finally.
To see Cryer, whose image had been vividly etched in her mind even with her eyes closed.
Though she couldn’t witness him directly, merely watching him move filled Greta with such overwhelming joy she scarcely knew what to do.
But Cryer didn’t spare the man even a glance. His eyes were solely on Olivia as he approached her.
“Eternal glory to the Empire.”
Olivia inclined her head with exquisite grace in response to Cryer’s unusually formal bow.
“Cryer.”
The instant she spoke his name, the eyes of the man from Norden flickered violently—but it was so fleeting no one noticed.
“You came just in time.”
Olivia naturally drew Cryer to her side and gestured toward the man.
“How about greeting an old countryman after so long?”
Cold Male Lead Became My Clingy Husband (Female-Dominant)
Feng Bai Su transmigrated into a matriarchal novel, becoming the sister of the female protagonist and the Seventh Princess of the Feng Ling Kingdom.
After working herself to death in her previous life, finally reincarnating as a princess, she only wanted to be a lazy fish who could eat, sleep, and play.
Until she met the male protagonist from the book, Wei Jing Mo, and he took a liking to her!
Wei Jing Mo is the top young man in Feng Ling City, talented in both appearance and ability, from a prestigious family, with a cold and otherworldly appearance, a figure like the bright moon in the hearts of noble ladies. It was thought that only the most powerful and talented noble lady in Feng Ling City would be worthy of such a brilliant young man. Who knew that this young gentleman would secretly admire the infamous Seventh Princess?
Short scene 1:
Feng Bai Su looked at the young man crying like a pear blossom in the rain before her, and couldn’t help but doubt her life.
Wasn’t the male lead described as a cold and otherworldly figure in the book?
Then who was this poor little thing crying with swollen red eyes and tear-stained face?
Short scene 2:
Wei Jing Mo stared intently at Feng Bai Su who was about to go out, wanting to say, “Be careful on the road.”
Before he could speak, Feng Bai Su suddenly bent down and bit his cheek.
Her peach blossom eyes were full of disdain: “Tsk! You’re so clingy!”
Wei Jing Mo: “…”
A talented fox spirit female lead with a flirtatious appearance but actually abstinent VS A cold-looking but actually naive and clingy little jealous male lead
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