The Princess Wants to Live (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 4
Minutes before the death of the King of Norden was announced in the council chamber.
Olivia was gasping for breath.
Because Cryer was so unbearably overwhelming up close, she felt she might faint at any moment.
Cryer, gazing into her storm-tossed blue eyes—shaken as violently as a reed in a tempest—opened his mouth.
“This contract is…”
Just as he began to speak of his slave contract,
– knock knock.
– knock knock knock knock knock.
“Your Highness! Your Highness!”
Despite his strict orders that no one was to disturb them, an urgent knock and an even more frantic servant’s voice shattered the silence of the sealed room.
Olivia and Cryer simultaneously turned toward the door, then immediately looked back at each other.
“Your Highness! Forgive my boldness, but there’s… there’s been a grave incident!”
“Seems so.”
“We’d better get up.”
Though they exchanged words as if by prior agreement, their actions didn’t match.
Olivia groaned as she tried to stand but couldn’t get strength into her legs, while Cryer simply stared at her blankly.
– knock knock knock knock knock knock.
As the knocking grew rougher and more urgent than before, Olivia bit her lip and finally reached out her hand toward Cryer.
“Help me a little.”
“You said you’d help me.”
“That’s one thing. This is another. Just get me up for now.”
Cryer couldn’t help but smile at Olivia, who—despite trembling uncontrollably whenever he moved even slightly or growled low—always ended up brazenly saying exactly what she wanted anyway.
“You have a point.”
He lifted Olivia up in one swift motion, and she stamped her wobbly legs against the floor a few times, like a newborn fawn.
“Can you walk?”
“I can manage that much.”
“Your Highness!”
Fearing the servant outside might keel over from shouting his name any longer, Olivia forced strength into her trembling legs and headed for the door.
– click.
Through the opened door appeared the servant’s oddly blank yet flustered expression.
“Your Highness?”
“Yes. What’s so urgent that you’re causing such a commotion?”
The servant, seemingly calmed somewhat by Olivia’s perfectly composed voice and imperial princess demeanor, replied in a noticeably quieter tone than before.
“The King of Norden has passed away.”
Olivia’s eyes flickered uneasily as she stared down at the top of the servant’s deeply bowed head.
The King of Norden is dead? He’s… dead? What? The very man who, across four prior lives before this fifth regression, had always declared war?
Small details had changed with each regression, but had the King of Norden’s death ever been considered a minor detail…?
Just as she sank into confusion, Olivia’s shoulders stiffened with tension as she sensed Cryer drawing near behind her.
“Is that true?”
The servant gave a terse reply to Cryer’s low, knightly-voiced question—spoken with the same mask Olivia wore.
“Yes.”
At Cryer’s next words, Olivia whipped her head toward him.
“I see.”
“That’s all… No, let’s go for now.”
Swallowing hard the words “Is that really all?”, Olivia gestured to the servant.
As she followed the servant’s lead, Olivia cast a sidelong glance at Cryer.
Even with the King of Norden dead, he didn’t so much as blink.
A true knight would have exploded into action immediately—but Cryer clearly wasn’t one.
But still… was it really possible to show absolutely no reaction at all?
Weren’t he and the King of Norden at least comrades who’d shared the same ship…?
Olivia chewed the inside of her cheek.
No. The King of Norden must have been unrelated to this war.
As soon as she reached that conclusion, all her energy drained away.
After all, one or two people dying here and there was nothing compared to wartime casualties.
Especially since this person had no connection to the main course of events.
“That’s enough here.”
Whether Olivia felt deflated or not, the servant diligently guided them to their destination, and soon they saw the King of Norden’s pitiful corpse.
The king, impaled through the back of his neck by a sharp decorative fixture, looked as if he’d met something utterly unexpected—he hadn’t even managed to close his eyes. Beneath his feet, still leaking blood, a crimson pool gleamed ominously.
“What on earth happened?”
Olivia swiftly concealed her shock at the unexpectedly gruesome scene and examined the King of Norden’s body closely.
Cryer, too, was scanning not just the corpse but the entire surrounding area.
After flipping the corpse’s eyelids and even checking for a pulse, Olivia shook her head.
“No one could save him now—not even if they tried.”
She beckoned the servant who’d been waiting quietly behind her.
“What happened?”
“It appears His Majesty slipped on the stairs and met with an accident.”
“‘Appears’ to be an accident?”
“Yes.”
Olivia tilted her head slightly.
“What did the attendants who were with him say?”
“He asked to be alone for a while, so everyone withdrew.”
“So in other words, there’s nothing definite at all.”
“My deepest apologies.”
“Take care of it.”
“Yes.”
While servants began preparing the body, Olivia approached Cryer, who had already moved to the top of the stairs and was inspecting the floor.
“They’re calling it an accident.”
“Hmm.”
“‘Hmm’ again?”
“Has something like this ever happened before?”
By “before,” he surely meant in a previous life. Olivia shook her head.
“No. But I told you—aside from the main thread, anything can change at any time.”
“So this wasn’t part of the main thread, then.”
“Maybe…? It’s truly surprising, but it seems the King of Norden really had nothing to do with the war. It’s odd—while you always started the war itself, it was always the King of Norden who formally declared it each time.”
“The king was merely a puppet.”
“That’s exactly what I’d expec— Wait, judging by your tone just now, you’re definitely not the puppet, are you?”
At Olivia’s words, the corner of Cryer’s mouth twisted.
“A puppet controlling another puppet—hardly a pleasant sight. But it wasn’t me.”
“Then who—?”
“More importantly, did they change the flooring or stair material for the council meeting?”
Caught off guard by the non sequitur, Olivia blinked for a moment before shaking her head.
“Was there not enough time?”
“Impossible. Even if they tore out every wall and floor in this place to rebuild it from scratch, a day or two would be plenty. They simply didn’t need to, so they didn’t.”
This was the imperial family’s private palace.
In an empire where the Emperor’s single command could move mountains in an instant, what was a mere palace renovation? If time ran short, they’d just pour in more manpower and resources.
After all, the Empire was the only nation on the continent capable of handling such resources with ease.
“Why? Are you seriously suggesting that the King of Norden—perfectly robust and sound of mind—slipped because the floor was slippery?”
Squatting beside Cryer, who knelt on one knee while scrutinizing the floor, Olivia also examined the surface intently.
But to her eyes, it was just an ordinary floor—nothing special at all.
Though the tiles weren’t quite to her taste, the overall harmony was well-balanced; there was no need to fuss over one minor detail…
“No, they even installed anti-slip measures at the top of the stairs. Even if someone slipped here, a person with healthy limbs would’ve grabbed the railing.”
Olivia’s eyes followed Cryer’s gaze. Indeed, the railing sat exactly where it should have been.
“So you mean…”
“This looks less like an accident and more like an assassination disguised as one.”
Olivia tilted her head briefly before asking,
“Was there really a need to assassinate the King of Norden?”
Again, she received no direct answer to her question.
“That was his doing.”
“His?”
– grit.
Hearing teeth grinding right beside her, Olivia flinched as if struck by a harpoon.
Though she didn’t dare look at Cryer, she couldn’t help but ask.
“Him…? No—just who is that man?”
“A mage.”
“A mage? Then—was it that slave… No, I mean the contract—”
“Yes. It was him.”
Cryer rubbed his collarbone—the spot bearing the slave’s brand, invisible to anyone else’s eyes.
‘…you will… be his slave… soon the world will…’
Fragmented memories from the past swirled up, sending a hollow chill through his empty core.
And the next moment—
“What are you doing?”
Cryer looked down at the small, soft hand awkwardly covering the back of his own.
“Well, um…”
Unable to give a proper answer, Olivia kept patting his hand uncertainly.
When his eyes narrowed, she hastily spoke.
“I don’t know—it just moved on its own.”
Even she found her own words absurd, and after pressing her lips together a few times, she fell silent.
She simply couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Having never once lied to Cryer since meeting him, she spoke only the truth this time as well.
Truly, without any conscious thought or deliberation, she’d found herself patting his hand like a baby’s back—entirely without realizing it.
Though her answer offered no real response at all, Cryer didn’t press further. Nor did he shove her hand away or twist it back.
He just watched.
A dove… was it?
A dove of peace. A woman trying to stop war—not for peace, but to survive.
“You’re not actually a real dove, are you.”
“I’m a person! A human being!”
How could she possibly be…
Ever since returning from death, bound against her will to a contract she never wanted, forced to move like a marionette strung on invisible threads—
Cryer had come to loathe human contact.
Not so much that he recoiled in disgust—but the tepid warmth of others always grated on his nerves.
Probably because of the slave brand seared onto him by that mad mage, who’d breathed life—like a living man—back into his long-cold, lifeless corpse.
Yet strangely enough…
For some reason, it wasn’t unpleasant.
Not repulsive, nor did any urge to chop her hand off surge through him.
“You’re a person?”
“A person! Please believe me! Wanting to be a dove is purely metaphorical—it’s about symbolizing peace and protecting world peace!”
Even listening to her chirping voice up ahead didn’t feel bad at all.
A faint, oddly twisted smile crept onto Cryer’s lips.
“A person.”
“I’ve said it many times—I’m human! Where exactly do you see a dove? No matter how many regressions I’ve gone through, I’ve never turned into an animal…”
He gazed deeply into Olivia’s clear, bright blue eyes as she earnestly insisted she was no dove.
“Not… bad.”
Though his quiet murmur didn’t reach Olivia, Cryer himself heard it clearly.
Yes. The warmth of her touch truly wasn’t bad at all.
At the very moment Olivia was heading toward the King of Norden’s body with Cryer,
the Norden Royal Palace had already plunged into chaos—arriving too early, no, far too soon.
“His Majesty has passed away?!”
“What on earth are you saying?!”
“This isn’t the time—His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince, must—!”
Amidst the clamor of voices shouting without regard for rank or identity, one man rose to his feet.
When the male lead is punished by carrying the female lead’s child and having periods like a woman
“I’ve given birth to two children for you, yet you still think about him.
Was I nothing but his substitute to you from beginning to end?”
Synopsis:
Meng Huan, a scumbag who has dated countless girlfriends, transmigrates to a female-dominated country.
Day 1: Whether it’s female dominance or not doesn’t matter. The beauties here are passionate and amorous. Isn’t it easier to date them than in modern times?
Day 2: After a night, Meng Huan discovers the differences in the female-dominated world. Men here actually have chastity locks and menstrual cycles. This hinders his ability to perform, damn it!
Day 3: What’s wrong with sleeping around? I don’t want you to marry me. I’m meant to be a playboy. I don’t care about male virtues… What? You want to drown me in a pig cage? Marry, I’ll marry!
Day N: Meng Huan inexplicably vomits and receives the shocking news of his life… He’s pregnant.
_____
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