The Princess Wants to Live (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 38
The sky was high and perfectly clear, without a single cloud.
Beneath the sun approaching noon, a carriage bearing the distinct emblem of the Bolshayk imperial family raced forward.
Olivia, who had been handling documents even amidst the jostling carriage, suddenly lifted her head.
Having brought no attendants—claiming there was no room even for her papers—she quickly opened the small window beside her.
Squinting against the pouring sunlight, Olivia gazed into the distance and spoke.
“How much farther?”
Her question, cast into the empty air, received an answer.
“If we ride nonstop like this, we’ll arrive by sunset.”
Hearing Cryer’s reply—from his position closer to the carriage than even the princess’s own guard knights—Olivia let out a sigh.
“It’s good we’re going fast, though it doesn’t feel all that good.”
Their destination was none other than the Kingdom of Norden.
Wasn’t it the very den of those damn lunatics who, claiming to purify the world by the will of the Ancient God, had ignited a continental war to flood the earth in blood?
There, too, must lie the means to erase Cryer’s slave brand.
She longed to reach there as soon as possible, grab the mage by the throat, and settle things once and for all—but…
Though Cryer had killed Olivia four times, it was the mage who had treated him like a beast and wielded him as a weapon.
Facing such a man soon was hardly a pleasant prospect.
As Olivia’s distant gaze drifted through memories, a silvery glint—like the midday moon—rippled into her vision.
Crimson eyes pierced through the blue sky.
“Stay by my side.”
At his whisper, slipping into her ear like a rolling bead, Olivia smiled.
“I’ll stay by your side.”
He hadn’t uttered a single word about protecting her, yet his whisper carried the promise that he would.
Wasn’t he truly her ‘knight’ after all?
Though she herself had once called him “my knight,” Cryer had never truly been her knight.
He was merely a comrade—someone racing alongside her toward the same goal, sharing the same purpose…
Yet his words sounded so convincing that her unsettled stomach instantly calmed.
Olivia promptly voiced what she had originally intended to say.
“Isaac, come in.”
– Creak.
No sooner had her words left her lips than a faint sound came from the seemingly empty roof of the carriage, and Isaac appeared magically amidst the papers.
– Thud.
Olivia shut the window. The carriage, embodying the pinnacle of imperial engineering, was naturally equipped with perfect soundproofing and defenses against ambushes.
Of course, none of that mattered to Cryer.
Thus, even with the fully sealed carriage wall between them, he could still keep his promise to Olivia—
that he would remain by her side…
“You called, Your Highness?”
When Isaac flashed a vulpine grin, Olivia nodded in satisfaction.
“Anyone notice you?”
“No one.”
At his answer, Olivia tilted her head slightly before asking once more.
“Not even Cryer?”
“Let’s exclude him from the category of humans.”
It was a remark laced with laughter, yet brimming with utter sincerity.
Olivia, in turn, didn’t bother arguing that he, too, was human—or contest such distinctions.
What meaning could such hollow words possibly hold?
In many ways, Cryer had already stepped beyond humanity.
Even the mage who had awakened him—rambling madly about Cryer’s fragmented past—had called him exceptionally powerful.
By becoming the Ancient God’s slave, Cryer had gained abilities far surpassing those of ordinary humans—not as a gift, but as a damn price.
He was a monster.
And Olivia, having died and returned four times, had likewise stepped beyond humanity in many ways.
Thus, she could be called a different kind of monster.
A man turned monster, and a woman turned monster.
Perhaps it was fate.
Shaking off the idle thought that had suddenly surfaced, Olivia fixed her gaze intently on Isaac.
The day he had first stood before her—
Olivia had waved off his attempt at an elaborate bow, cutting straight to the point without ceremony.
‘You said you wanted to stay in the Empire, right? Stay, then. I permit it. Of course, you’ll have to earn your keep.’
‘Earn my keep, you say…’
Olivia exchanged a brief glance with Cryer.
‘Listen carefully to what I’m about to say. Whether you believe it or not is your choice. But believing will certainly help you earn your keep.’
And so, she told him the tale of the Ancient God and the mage.
Naturally, it wasn’t the whole story—she omitted, for instance, the fact that she had undergone four regressions.
When Olivia finally fell silent, Isaac remained quiet for a while.
Only his fox-like eyes—windows to his mind—tilted slightly in unspoken curiosity.
Then, it suddenly dawned on him: the theme of the tournament hosted by the Empire had been ‘world peace.’
And the host of that gathering was the person standing right before him…
‘The Ancient God and the… mage? And on top of that, a continental war and world annihilation?’
For a story told with such gravity and seriousness by the Imperial Princess, it sounded utterly preposterous.
‘As I said before I began, believe it or not—it’s entirely up to you.’
Following Olivia’s dry tone came Isaac’s question.
‘Since I’ve never heard this anywhere else, it must be a secret, then.’
Anyone would wonder:
Why reveal such a secret so casually?
Yet the reason was clear enough without needing to ask.
The dead speak no words, and secrets must be carried to the grave.
No matter how Isaac struggled, he could never escape Cryer’s grasp.
‘What must I do to earn my keep?’
‘Information.’
Though her reply was brief, it was sufficient for Isaac.
After a moment of silent resolve, Isaac bowed deeply and then spoke.
‘Whenever Your Highness desires, I am ready to earn my keep. However…’
‘However?’
‘There is a problem.’
With an expression so contrived it would make even a passing magpie scoff, Isaac continued.
‘I must return to my homeland. My affiliation is registered there—’
Before Isaac could finish, Olivia raised a hand to cut him off.
She scribbled something carelessly, pulled a cord, and sent off a letter.
‘Now you’re affiliated with the Empire.’
And so, Olivia resolved Isaac’s problem with remarkable ease.
And now.
Isaac would extract information—from Norden—about the Ancient God, or rather, about the mage, to earn his keep.
“About your ‘keep’…”
“Yes.”
“If you sense even the slightest hint of suspicion—or even if you had a restless dream the night before—abandon it.”
After all, magic makes the impossible possible, and its boundaries far exceed imagination.
To Olivia, even someone as unnaturally agile as Isaac was not truly a mage.
If Isaac were to step on even a single tail, the worst-case scenario could see everything Olivia and Cryer had told him fall directly into the mage’s hands.
It might be an overstatement, an excessively paranoid assumption—but their adversary was a mage. A lunatic who ranted about the Ancient God and trumpets and such.
Precautions were essential, whatever the case.
“Remember this: at the first sign of anything strange, run—without hesitation, with everything you have.”
Whether it was a warning, an instruction, or concern—Isaac couldn’t tell—but he bowed deeply in response.
“As Your Highness wishes.”
True to Cryer’s word, the carriage raced without pause and arrived at the Norden royal palace just as the evening glow began to fade.
As expected, the one who greeted Olivia was none other than the Crown Prince of Norden.
“Your Highness.”
While offering a courteous bow, the Crown Prince received only a perfunctory nod from Olivia, whose sharp eyes were already scanning his surroundings.
But soon, a faint crease appeared between her brows.
Because she couldn’t see him.
The mage’s appearance—whom she had studied and memorized through countless encounters with Cryer—
matched no one near the Crown Prince.
‘Due to magic, brainwashing, or something similar, it’s rare for him to leave the King’s side.’
She was certain he’d said those very words.
Thus, during the King’s funeral rites, that mage must surely be by the side of the Crown Prince—the heir to Norden’s throne.
Then why wasn’t he?
Could he possibly be occupied with something so important that he’d leave the Crown Prince’s side?
And if so, what could that important matter be?
With so little known, her questions only multiplied.
But the Crown Prince’s next words left her no room to ponder further.
“…Therefore, wouldn’t this be the perfect opportunity for our knight to return?”
Caught completely off guard by the Crown Prince’s unexpected statement, Olivia reflexively asked,
“A… knight?”
Instead of answering directly, the Crown Prince shifted his gaze toward Cryer, who stood guard beside Olivia.
Without blinking, he kept his eyes fixed on Cryer as he replied.
“He is a knight of Norden and thus ought to return to his homeland.”
At that indifferent remark, Olivia found herself unable to respond immediately.
She had anticipated such a conversation—after all, though she’d kept Cryer within the Empire, he remained officially a knight of Norden.
But she never expected the one to raise it would be the Crown Prince himself.
To the mage, Cryer was undoubtedly the most crucial figure; yet to Norden, he was not—wasn’t that the assumption?
The mage, who never let Cryer stray from the King’s side, surely wouldn’t be foolish enough to openly demand the Imperial Princess return a single knight during such a critical occasion.
Before Olivia could speak, the Crown Prince spoke again—
or rather, introduced someone.
“This is the person to whom I’ve granted full authority on the matter. He is also responsible for attending to Your Highness during the funeral period.”
Wait—why would someone of the Crown Prince’s standing personally explain such details to her…
The absurdity of it all, happening in rapid succession, set Olivia’s nerves on edge like a needle drawn taut.
And in the next moment—
crimson hair, like the already-faded sunset, rippled from behind the Crown Prince.
“I present myself before Your Highness.”
A stunning beauty.
That was all Olivia thought upon first meeting Greta.
The moment Greta’s lips curved into a smooth, elegant arc, Cryer naturally—and almost instinctively—stepped forward, gently pushing Olivia behind him as he spoke.
“Greta.”
At his low call, Olivia barely managed to keep her expression from breaking.
Greta. If it was truly Greta, then—
‘It was Greta who branded me. The magician’s daughter.’
This? This was how she’d suddenly find herself face-to-face—with the mage’s daughter, no less?
Now it wasn’t just absurd—it was starting to feel unreal.
While Olivia’s mind reeled as if caught in a storm, Cryer and Greta merely stood in silent regard of each other.
And so, Olivia, Cryer, and Greta—
the three of them stood together in one place.
Male lead is a clingy little husband
One-line summary: The male lead is initially an arrogant, noble, love-deprived brat, later a cute, clingy, scheming little jealous one.
Introduction:
One day, Lu Yuner’s soul transmigrates into a female-dominant world. She enters the Imperial Academy and takes up the position of a doctoral instructor, teaching classes and grading schoolwork.
One day, she encounters the young prince Su Qingwan secretly skipping class from the male academy.
As a result, Su Qingwan is punished.
From then on, Su Qingwan sees Lu Yuner as a “thorn in his side”.
But before long, this “thorn” becomes the person he cherishes most, and he goes to great lengths to win Lu Yuner’s affection.
Mini scene 1:
One day, the sun is high in the sky but Su Qingwan still hasn’t gotten up for class.
Servant Xiaoyuan: “Young prince, it’s time for class. You’ll be late otherwise.”
Su Qingwan says arrogantly: “I’m not going. I am the esteemed prince, my status is so noble, why should I suffer this hardship? Besides, isn’t learning all this just to please women? Hmph, they’re not worthy!”
Mini scene 2:
After Su Qingwan falls for someone, he completely changes. He no longer skips class and diligently learns how to be a good husband and father. But he discovers that Sister Yuner is always surrounded by admirers.
Drunk and overcome with jealousy one day, he clings to Lu Yuner, crying beautifully like a pear blossom in the rain.
Su Qingwan: “Qingwan likes Sister Yuner.”
Lu Yuner: “Young prince, you’re drunk.”
Su Qingwan: “Qingwan isn’t drunk. Qingwan likes Sister Yuner, likes you so much, likes you to bits…” Before he can finish, Lu Yuner’s eyes flash with emotion and she leans in closer.
[Reading Guide]
1. The female lead is gentle, gracious, humble and polite but not weak. The male lead is initially an arrogant, noble, love-deprived brat, later a cute, clingy, scheming little jealous one.
2. 1v1, a bit torturous in the beginning but definitely sweet later on.
_____
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