The Princess Wants to Live (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 3
After all, she couldn’t possibly bring herself to say aloud that he’d struck her throat multiple times.
Cryer didn’t press her. He merely kept watching.
His eyes, cutting through the pitch-black night devoid of moonlight, were utterly unreadable.
In the previous regression—and now as well….
“You seem to need help.”
“My mind is perfectly fine! And why are you using formal speech again…? No! Don’t go!”
Despite Olivia’s desperate pleas, Cryer didn’t stop.
Her instincts whispered: if she let him slip away now, this life too would end by his hand.
She wanted to live.
Therefore, she resolved to use every means at her disposal.
But she hadn’t expected to cling to his trouser leg so soon.
“How much do you want!”
Olivia grabbed the trouser leg of Cryer—the very man who caused the continental war—and clung to him as he tried to leave the private room, ignoring her.
Yet Cryer paid her no heed and kept walking, dragging Olivia along the floor.
“Let go.”
“No!”
Cryer, still dragging her by one leg as he strode relentlessly toward the door, finally looked down at Olivia, whose expression screamed her refusal to let go at any cost, and spoke.
“I told you to let go.”
“I won’t! How much do you want? No—what do you need? What must I do to stop you from starting the war!”
Cryer extended his hand toward Olivia with a soft sigh, but hesitated mid-motion at her next words.
“You’re a slave! Whatever that contract is, I’ll put an end to it for you… urk!”
Olivia never finished her sentence, meeting instead Cryer’s eyes now turned into a fathomless abyss.
He leaned in so close his face was mere inches from hers and growled.
“Who told you I was a slave?”
“H-hic… hic… hic.”
Startled by their sudden near-zero distance, Olivia instinctively clamped both hands over her mouth, shoulders shaking as helpless hiccups escaped.
Cryer stared deep into her, baring his teeth like a beast.
“Who are you.”
“The dove of peace!”
…Dove… of peace….
Her voice echoed through the chamber as though reverberating off the walls.
Cryer stared down at Olivia for a long while with an indescribable expression. Then, grasping her arm, he lifted her effortlessly.
“What did you just say?”
“Th-the… dove of peace. A symbol of… peace.”
Still holding her aloft, Cryer strode firmly across the room and set her down on the sofa.
Trapping her with his arms so she couldn’t escape, he whispered,
“Fine. Dove of peace. I’ll ask once more: who gave you that information?”
“You… you did! You! You yourself!”
Olivia jabbed her finger at him with all her fervor.
Cryer’s brow furrowed as he stared down at her, unblinking for a long moment.
“You’re not lying.”
“Of course I’m not lying! I heard it straight from your own mouth!”
“You mean I said it with my own lips.”
“Yes! You said I’m a slave and must obey every command—you said it yourself!”
Olivia gasped for breath after spilling it all out at once and quickly added,
“In my previous life.”
Seeing the deeper crease forming between his brows, Olivia hurriedly continued,
“I’ll explain! I’ll explain everything.”
She summarized her regression and recounted every detail of her past life to Cryer in one breathless stream.
“It may be hard to believe, but it happened, so…”
As Olivia trailed off, Cryer reached toward her.
Though startled, she made no move to dodge—resignation heavy in her eyes—so Cryer withdrew his hand.
“You really did die.”
“I told you! I died four times—only to you!”
She thrust her chest forward, tapping it insistently as if demanding he trust her body’s truth, then abruptly bowed her head.
After all, standing before the very man who’d killed her repeatedly and begging him to believe she’d died by his hand felt utterly bleak.
But then she snapped her head up again.
No! Just the fact that she could confront him like this meant there was still hope!
Cryer watched her, fists clenched and eyes gleaming with renewed determination, and asked,
“Finished playing your drum and cymbals all by yourself?”
“Uh… yeah.”
Olivia sheepishly lowered the fists she’d just been holding up and folded her hands neatly over her stomach. Cryer gave a faint chuckle.
“Your manner of speech and behavior don’t befit an imperial princess at all. And considering you’ve come back from death four times, you’re surprisingly flippant.”
“You taught me yourself that before death, princess or commoner—all are equal. I learned that painful truth four times over, unwillingly. And through dying and regressing four times, I realized something.”
“What?”
“That if my situation is already a cesspool, I must stay light on my feet and act quickly to avoid sinking deeper.”
She rubbed her stiff neck.
“Besides, I’ve already learned the hard way that standing proud and stiffly elegant in front of you gets me absolutely nowhere.”
“You certainly seem to know me.”
“I do! Was my explanation insufficient?”
“No, that’s enough. Honestly, even if you said more, I wouldn’t believe it anyway.”
Just as Olivia opened her mouth again at Cryer’s firm reply, he reached out and she reflexively flinched, squeezing her eyes shut.
“I won’t kill you now, so you don’t need to be that guarded. You should know—if you’ve truly died—whether you guard yourself or not, I can kill you whenever I please.”
“I know. I know all too well.”
Olivia nodded vigorously, her eyelashes fluttering like a butterfly’s wings caught in a storm.
Memories of her pre-regression life surged vividly before her eyes, despite her efforts to suppress them.
“Your Highness! You must take cover!”
“Your Highness!”
Even amid the knights’ desperate cries—bloodied and wounded beyond recognition—Olivia couldn’t tear her eyes away from Cryer, who slowly approached her.
It felt as though her body would be torn to shreds the moment she looked away.
His face drenched in so much blood it was nearly unrecognizable, he bared his teeth in a savage grin—just as the left side of the parapet where Olivia stood crumbled, sending up a massive cloud of dust.
With a single gesture, Cryer had shattered the wall. He leapt effortlessly upward, closing the distance toward Olivia.
“Protect her! Save His…!”
“Your High…!”
A crimson maelstrom erupted right before Olivia’s eyes. Cryer, wielding only a sword, had slaughtered the empire’s finest knights in moments, then reached out toward her.
He was smiling.
Like a starved predator who’d just found the most delectable prey….
Olivia shuddered her shoulders, shaking off the memory, and blinked rapidly.
He says he won’t kill me now, then immediately adds that he could kill me anytime?
What’s that supposed to mean—will he kill me or spare me?
Just as Olivia floundered in this vortex of confusion, Cryer pulled her out with a single, simple statement.
“I won’t kill you.”
“Thank you.”
Her automatic, reflexive gratitude instantly flushed her cheeks apple-red.
Cryer dismissed her embarrassment as if it meant nothing and spoke again.
“So you’ve died and returned multiple times, and through those cycles experienced the continental war and even discovered I’m a slave.”
“Th-that’s right.”
Hearing her entire life of hardship summarized so casually by the very man who’d ended her life felt strangely surreal.
“I’ll believe you—for now. Given that absurd contracts exist, it’s not impossible that dying and coming back might too… hold on.”
Before Cryer could finish his sentence, Olivia suddenly went limp and collapsed forward. He caught her against his body.
Though her face pressed awkwardly into his firm chest, Olivia just giggled weakly.
What to say?
Did it feel like she’d barely passed the first stage? Like after drifting endlessly across a vast ocean, the straw she’d clutched in desperation turned out to be a sturdy lifeline?
But that feeling didn’t last long.
“You claimed earlier you could free me from my contract.”
Truthfully, Cryer had accepted Olivia’s seemingly mad tale so readily only because of her mention of “liberation”—he intended to use the imperial princess Olivia to break free from that accursed slave contract.
After all, if he could escape that blasted contract, the more tools he had at his disposal, the better.
At his question, Olivia’s eyes widened like a startled rabbit’s, but only a shaky breath escaped her parted lips.
Back then, she’d only been desperate to stop him from leaving. How could she possibly talk about freeing him when she didn’t even know what kind of slave contract he’d signed?
“I can hear your eyes rolling from here.”
“No, it’s just that…”
“I didn’t ask you to free me right this instant.”
“Well, that’s… actually, no. Ahem. First, tell me what kind of contract it is, and I’ll do everything I can to find a way. Being an imperial princess must be good for something—like wielding authority in times like these.”
Olivia bobbed her head eagerly, ears perked as if ready to listen intently. Cryer gave her a vague reply.
“Hmm.”
“Hmm? What do you mean ‘hmm’?”
“It won’t be that simple.”
“Well, of course it won’t be easy, but…”
“First, with your so-called imperial authority or whatever, can you access all the currently practical magic-related information?”
“Well, I could gather people to look into it, but magic-related? Surely you don’t mean…”
“Exactly that ‘surely’.”
“The… the slave contract involves magic?”
Back before her regression, when Cryer first appeared, she’d thought it some terrible nightmare or illusion—but now the saying held true: words carry consequences. It really was tied to magic.
“Yes.”
“That… must be incredibly difficult.”
She almost blurted out “Impossible!” but managed to choke it back into softer words.
Cryer didn’t miss her naive reaction.
At a distance so close their breaths mingled,
Cryer locked eyes with Olivia and whispered,
“One must take responsibility for every word spoken, Princess.”
While Olivia and Cryer were inside the private chamber—engaged not in a mere meeting but in a desperate plea, a flicker of curiosity, and the shattering of absurd reality—
the conference hall blazed with two burning topics.
“World peace? Hah!”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Now, now, don’t even say ‘you can’t be serious.’ Haven’t you heard ‘words carry weight’?”
“Ahem. Well, that’s true, but…”
The speaker’s face darkened with heavy clouds as he trailed off.
“War?”
“Didn’t we agree not to even utter such words!”
“The problem now isn’t about words carrying weight—the continental summit, moved forward by several months, has ‘world peace’ as its agenda!”
“World peace is a banner we must uphold at all times. Don’t exaggerate so much…”
“It’s not exaggeration—it’s about preparing countermeasures.”
“That’s precisely what I mean: such preparations might only stir up unnecessary trouble.”
“But doing nothing and getting ambushed would be far worse…”
“Ambushed? You’re talking nonsense! It’s world peace! World peace!”
Though the leaders of each nation spoke different words, none would yield their stance—yet all shared the same underlying worry.
The Empire’s conquest war.
As the continent’s sole empire, the enormous nation—so vast it bore no other name—sat atop the continent’s golden yolk, always revealing its ambition to dominate even more territory.
Thankfully, the Continental Summit had served as a moderating bridge, preventing large-scale war thus far—though localized conflicts continued erupting in various places even now.
If the Empire initiated war, all other nations would have to unite against it.
Forming an alliance might just enable them to repel the Empire’s invasion.
In fact, they might even have a slim chance of pushing the Empire back.
But the reason they couldn’t do that was…
The leaders exchanged cautious glances.
If they honestly assessed whether they could trust one another enough to join hands against the Empire, the answer would undoubtedly be no.
While collective strength might barely suffice, someone would surely side with the Empire, opening wide their jaws to snatch up falling crumbs—or rather, a massive chunk of meat.
“No matter how much we debate among ourselves, without a clear stance from the Empire, nothing is certain.”
“For now, we must do our utmost at this summit to maintain the status quo.”
As their discussion matured, each participant carefully masking their true intentions—
another group gathered elsewhere, engaged in a heated debate over a different matter.
Or rather, it was less a debate and more a subtle contest over who would claim the seat beside Olivia.
“If it’s a private matter between two people, then obviously…”
“Precisely. His Highness the Princess must have taken an immediate liking to that knight.”
“Nonsense. Though the knight looked presentable, surely Her Highness wouldn’t base her choice merely on appearance…”
“Love needs no reason.”
“Be careful with your words—‘love,’ indeed. Ahem.”
“To become the Empire’s royal consort, one must at least…”
“No. Above all, Her Highness must find him agreeable…”
“Someone worthy of a future shared with the Empire…”
While each voiced only what they wished to say, somehow a semblance of conversation continued—until, just as the break period neared its end,
“My deepest apologies!”
A servant practically tumbled into the conference hall, shouting at the top of his lungs.
“His Majesty… His Majesty the King of Norden!”
The dignitaries didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow at the servant’s ashen-faced cry.
If a mere servant’s bellowing and stomping could rattle them, they wouldn’t be sitting at the pinnacle of their nations.
But they couldn’t maintain their composure upon hearing the servant’s next, desperate wail.
“He has passed away!”
“What?”
“What did you say?”
“Speak again!”
“His Majesty the King of Norden has just passed away!”
Male lead says he’s pregnant — and it’s female lead’s child
Something seems a bit off about this world.
Wang Zhao thought as she watched a pregnant man walking towards her…
Intro
Female lead finds herself in a world where the men who possess the ability to bear children.
As she navigates this unfamiliar reality, she is caught off guard by the sudden appearance of her boyfriend, who reveals that he is pregnant.
Is this truly her boyfriend?
Why can’t she recall any details about their time together?
She begins to doubt whether the child her boyfriend is carrying is even hers.
Is there a hidden reason behind her amnesia, or could it be a side effect of her sudden arrival in this strange new world?
Just when it seems the protagonist’s life couldn’t become any more entangled, her ex-boyfriend makes an unexpected appearance, raising questions about the protagonist’s past.
__________
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