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I Married the Dragon I Killed Chapter 110: Sheltering a God

Chapter 110: Sheltering a God

The‌ Arken Empire had‌ to be superior‌ to everything.

That⁠‌ was why even​‌ imperial carriages were​ approximately fifty percent‍​‌ larger than any‌ others, and their​⁠⁠ interiors offered comfort‌‌ comparable to floating⁠​​ on clouds.

That⁠​⁠ carriage, whose mere‍ operation consumed the​⁠ monthly budget of⁠ an entire village,‌ set out on‍‍ a long journey.​⁠⁠

Its‌⁠‍ destination was a massive dome resembling‌‌​ a cage, located​​ in a remote‍‌ area.

“We​​ have arrived, Your​ Highness.”

The‌ person who stepped​‍​ out of the‍ carriage was Olivia‍‍ Arken.

She⁠⁠ was a beauty‍ worthy of being​ called the flower​‍ of the Empire.‍‍

Upon‌‌⁠ entering, she found‌‍ a vibrant green⁠​‌ spring instead of​​ the barren winter‍‍ outside.

“Allow‍⁠⁠ me to take⁠⁠ your coat.”

“No.​‍ I’ll keep it​‌‌ on. It might​​ be cold, don’t‍​‍ you think?”

“It‍ is part of‌⁠​ the dress code‌ established by His‌​ Excellency the Grand⁠⁠ Duke, so I ask for your‍‍ cooperation.”

“……”‍‌

Olivia​ removed her thick‍​ coat and proceeded‌‌ down the path.‌​​

She‍‌ passed gardens where⁠‍‍ exotic flowers from‌‍‍ all across the‌⁠ continent were carefully​​‌ cultivated and continued⁠‍ toward an artificial‌⁠⁠ lake at the⁠ far end.

Beside‌ the shore stood‌‌ a table from​ which the lake‍‌ could be admired.‍⁠‍

“Oh!​‌‍ Welcome, Your Imperial⁠⁠​ Highness.”

In‍‌‌ contrast to the​ colorful spring garden,‌‌⁠ an elderly man​‍‌ with white hair‌‌ and age spots‌​ straightened himself to‍⁠ greet her.

It​​ was Grand Duke‍ Valdemar Golt, one​⁠⁠ of the great‍ nobles of the‍‌ Arken Empire.

Olivia⁠ smiled naturally as​ she put on⁠ her social mask.‍

“It‍​​ is good to‌⁠​ see you, Grand‌ Duke Golt. As‌⁠ befits one of⁠ the Empire’s most‍ prestigious families, you​⁠ enjoy your leisure‌⁠ in a magnificent‌⁠ place.”

“Haha,​ that is too⁠​‌ much praise. The⁠‌ scenery is beautiful,‌​‌ and in places‌ like this one‍‍‍ can drink and‍‍⁠ enjoy the water.​ Please, have a seat.”

Valdemar​‍​ personally pulled out‍‍ a chair for‍‌ her.

When‍​⁠ Olivia sat down,‍​ the old man’s​‍​ hand discreetly brushed‌‍⁠ against her shoulder.‍‌

“Cough,​ cough.”

Olivia‌​⁠ coughed and leaned‍ forward.

Then‌‌‍ she smiled carelessly.⁠​‌

“It⁠ must be from​ the long journey.‌​⁠ I’m very thirsty.”⁠

“Good​ heavens! What have‌ they been doing⁠‌ inside if they‍​ haven’t even given​​‍ you something to‌ drink? Allow me⁠ to serve you‍‍ myself.”

Valdemar​‍‌ personally walked over​‌‌ to the drinks⁠‌ table.

“What‌ liquor would you​​ like?”

“Liquor?​ That would be​‌ a little difficult…”‌​‍

Olivia‍ showed a troubled‌⁠ expression, her eyes‌‌​ slightly moist.

“I‍⁠ don’t tolerate alcohol⁠‌‌ very well…”

“Then⁠‍‌ why not take‍‌​ this opportunity to​⁠ learn?”

“I⁠ don’t know. It⁠ worries me. They​ say a woman⁠ who enjoys alcohol‌ is a dangerous‍‍‍ seductress. I wouldn’t‌ want to become‍​⁠ one.”

“I‍⁠ would call her‌‍‍ a refined lady⁠ capable of enjoying⁠⁠ leisure alongside a gentleman.”

“I⁠ don’t think I’ll⁠​⁠ ever become a refined lady.”

Valdemar​‌⁠ insisted again and‌ again, but Olivia​‌ continued refusing.

In​ the end, he⁠⁠​ had no choice‍ but to serve‍ her hot tea.​

However,​ Olivia merely pretended‍‍⁠ to take small‍‌ sips.

She​​​ neither drank nor​‌ touched any of‍ the food or⁠⁠ beverages prepared by‍ Valdemar.

She‌​⁠ seemed like a doll.

She​⁠⁠ smiled, but her⁠​‍ eyes never met‌⁠‌ the Grand Duke’s.​‌‌

There‍ was not even​‌‌ any vitality in​ them.

Such‍​ an aloof attitude​‌ should have been⁠⁠​ unpleasant, yet Valdemar’s‌ crescent-shaped eyes never‍‌ stopped gazing at‌⁠ her in fascination.‌​​

His‌‌‌ sticky lips parted​​ as he let‌ out an admiring‍​⁠ sigh.

“Stella​⁠‍ was exactly this⁠ age.”

Olivia‍⁠ froze for a moment.

Her‍‍ face hardened briefly.‍​⁠

“She⁠‌ was also very​ beautiful at that​ age. But you‌⁠ become more beautiful‍‌‍ with each passing⁠⁠‌ day, Your Highness.”‍

Olivia‌​‍ covered her lips​‍ with a fan‌ and smiled with​ her eyes.

“Hoho.​⁠‌ After all, my‌⁠ mother was known​​⁠ as a beauty⁠ capable of conquering⁠ nations. If golden‌⁠‌ blood is combined‌‍​ with incomparable beauty,‍‌ isn’t it natural​​‌ for the result‍ to be beautiful?”⁠

“Haha!‍‍ That is absolutely‍⁠​ true!”

The‍⁠ elderly duke laughed‍ heartily while discreetly⁠⁠‌ stretching out his​​​ hand.

“They​‌‍ say you are⁠‌‍ already of marriageable‍ age, yet still‍​⁠ have no suitor.”‍‍‌

Olivia⁠‍​ picked up her⁠​ teacup.

“That‌‌ is correct. It‌ seems I have‌ not yet found⁠​‍ the right person.”⁠

“Don’t​‍ look too far‌⁠ away. The person​‍⁠ destined to become⁠​ your companion is⁠⁠​ often much closer‌‌ than one imagines.”‌

“My,‌ really?”

“What‍‍ importance do age​​​ or appearance have?‌ If he is‌ a powerful man‌⁠ who cherishes you,‌​​ you should hold‍ on to him​ without hesitation.”

“I‍ will keep your‍ words in mind.​ I shall make‌ sure to look‍ carefully.”

They‌ talked, but the​ conversation went nowhere.‌⁠⁠

Both​ Olivia and Valdemar⁠‍‌ were perfectly aware‍ of that.

She‌⁠ wanted him to‌​ grow tired and​‍⁠ let her leave.‌‌

But⁠‍ Valdemar was not⁠⁠‌ someone who could⁠‌‍ be discouraged so⁠⁠‌ easily.

Only‌​ after three long⁠ hours of insinuations​‌‌ and conversation did⁠ he finally release⁠‌ her.

“I​‍​ suppose we can‍​‌ bring our pleasant​‌‍ time together to‌ an end.”

“Thanks​⁠ to you, it⁠‍⁠ has been a very enjoyable evening.”​‌​

She⁠⁠ did not even​​ pretend to want‌ to stay longer.​‌​

As‍​​ they exchanged courtesies⁠⁠‍ and she stood⁠​​ up, Valdemar extended‌⁠ his hand.

Olivia‍⁠⁠ looked at it‍‍‍ and tilted her‌‍‍ head.

“What​ is the matter?‍‍ Why are you​‍ suddenly offering your‌‌ hand?”

“Isn’t​​ it obvious? I am proposing a handshake.”

There⁠​ was no way‌‌⁠ she did not‍ understand.

“Ah,⁠ of course. I understand.”

Olivia⁠​ attempted to shake‍ it.

“Now,​ now. When one‍‍ shakes hands, it‌ should be done⁠‌⁠ skin to skin.”‌‍

“I​⁠ am an unmarried⁠⁠ young woman. It‍ makes me uncomfortable⁠ to take a man’s hand.”

“You​⁠ did not touch‍​ the food or‍​ liquor I prepared,​ and you barely‍⁠ paid attention to​ my words. I think you could‍ at least grant⁠‌ me this small‍ request.”

It⁠​ was a threat.‍‍

A threat saying that​‌‌ she had better‌​​ comply with his‌⁠⁠ final wish before⁠​ he voiced his​​ dissatisfaction to the‍ Emperor.

Olivia‍​⁠ understood that she‍​​ could no longer‌​ continue refusing.

She​ had no choice​​ but to remove⁠​ her glove and​‌‌ take that hand.‍‍

Or‌ rather, endure a prolonged handshake.

Every‌⁠ time she tried​⁠‍ to pull away,‍ he increased his‌‍ grip.

For‍‍ an old man⁠‌ standing at death’s‌⁠​ door, he possessed‌‌⁠ surprising strength.

It⁠⁠‌ hurt so much‍‌ that she nearly‌ cried out.

“Could‌‍ you let go​‌‍ now?”

“Haha.‍‍‍ It seems I have held you​‍ for too long.⁠‌ My apologies.”

Only‍​ then did Valdemar‍ release her.

Olivia⁠ bid farewell with‍​ a slight bow‍‌‌ of her head​ and left the​ greenhouse.

Before⁠⁠‌ leaving, she glanced⁠‍ sideways at a ceramic flowerpot.

Its‍​ glazed surface was‍​‍ so shiny that‌⁠⁠ it could be‍ used as a mirror.

And‌​ it perfectly reflected​‍ the face of​‌‌ Grand Duke Valdemar​ Golt.

His‌⁠ eyes were smiling‌⁠ with perversion.

And⁠​⁠ he was greedily​‍‌ licking the hand‌ he had just‌​ shaken.

***⁠

Once‌ back inside the‍​‌ carriage, Olivia spoke​​⁠ to the escort⁠ knight who was⁠⁠ about to close​​‍ the door.

“Could⁠ you give me‌⁠ my perfume?”

“Yes,​‍‍ Your Highness.”

It⁠‍ was the rose⁠‍‌ perfume she normally‍‌‍ used.

She‍‌ uncorked the bottle‍ and poured its​ entire contents onto​ her right hand.‍‍

The‍ oil slid across‍​ her skin and​⁠ eventually dripped onto⁠‌ the floor.

The⁠ interior of the‍‌ carriage filled with‍⁠ the intense scent⁠⁠ of roses.

Even⁠ a perfume capable‌ of suffocating anyone‍​‌ seemed to have​ no effect on‍ her.

She‌ took a white​‍​ embroidered silk handkerchief‍⁠⁠ and began rubbing‍⁠‍ her hand over‌ and over again.‍⁠‌

The⁠​‍ face of Grand‍⁠‍ Duke Golt appeared​‌‍ in her mind.⁠​

That‌ greedy expression overlapped​‌ with the image⁠‌‍ of the Great‍‍ Demon Morax.

‘Disgusting.’​‍

She​​⁠ rubbed harder.

‘Disgusting.’​

She⁠‌ rubbed again and‍​ again.

‘Disgusting,⁠ disgusting, disgusting!’

She​‍‌ continued scrubbing without⁠ stopping.

In⁠⁠​ the end, that​​ jade-white hand became​‍ completely red and‍ sore.

For​‌ a moment, she‍⁠‍ even wanted to⁠‍ tear off her‌⁠ skin.

She‌‌ wanted to strip‌⁠‌ away every part‌ of her body⁠ that had been‍ touched by Valdemar.‍

‘Grand‍ Duke Golt…’

The‌ handkerchief she held​​ crumpled inside her​‌‍ fist.

Even‍⁠ wearing a mask⁠⁠‍ had its limits.⁠

The‌⁠​ porcelain mask she‍‌‍ wore began to‍​⁠ crack, distorted by​​‌ rage.

‘How⁠ dare you mention⁠‍ that name?’

Stella⁠⁠‍ Arken.

She‌​ was an older‌‌​ sister eight years⁠ her senior, a woman kinder than‍‌ anyone else.

She​‌‍ possessed both beauty‌⁠ and talent and⁠ even had an‌ excellent fiancé she‍ had chosen herself.‍​‌

When⁠ she was young,‍​‍ Stella had been‍‌ Olivia’s role model.‌‍

However,⁠ at some point‌ Stella changed.

It‌ started on the​⁠ day her engagement‌⁠‍ was broken.

Because⁠ her fiancé was​ arrested for treason​​ and disappeared onto​‌‍ the execution platform.‌⁠

From‍⁠ that day onward,‍‌‌

the‍ flower that had‌‌‍ always been radiant‍​​ and beautiful withered⁠‍ away.

She⁠⁠‍ grew more haggard​​ with each passing⁠‌⁠ day.

In​‍⁠ Olivia’s final memory‍‍⁠ of Stella, her​​⁠ golden hair, like‍‍ strands of spun‌‌​ gold, had been​‌⁠ cut short.

“Olivia.”‍‍

A cracked voice.

“Isn’t‌‍ the scenery of‌ the Empire beautiful?”‍

Her‌⁠​ body was dangerously‍⁠‍ tilted over the‌ terrace.

Olivia‌‌‌ replied with a worried expression.

“Sister,‌ it’s dangerous to​ stand there.”

“Hehe,‍⁠ that’s why you‌​ must stay away⁠​ from your sister,​‌ Olivia. At least​​ today.”

“Come‌ down from there,‌⁠ Sister.”

“Stay‍​ where you are‍⁠⁠ and listen carefully‍⁠‍ to your sister.‍ Olivia is a good girl, isn’t⁠⁠ she?”

“Yes,​‍ Sister…”

She⁠⁠ smiled.

But​​‍ there was no​ warmth in that‌ smile.

Olivia‍‍ did not throw⁠ a tantrum.

“Do‌ you know what​ runs through our​ veins?”

Stella‌‌ asked.

“Golden‌‌⁠ blood. I was‌‍ told our blood‍​​ is golden.”

“Hehe,‌​ innocent Olivia. I wish you could⁠‍⁠ remain that innocent​​⁠ forever, but it’s⁠‌ time to wake​ up from the‌​ dream.”

Stella’s⁠ body tilted forward.​

“Please,‌⁠ see the truth‍ with your own‌ eyes.”

And‍‍‌ she jumped.

The​​​ little Olivia believed​​ that wings would‌⁠⁠ suddenly sprout from‍‍ her sister’s back​‍‍ and that she​ would become an​‌‍ angel.

But‌ no angel appeared.​⁠

The‌‌ only thing she‍ saw was her‍‍ sister’s corpse smashed⁠​‍ against the ground.​

It⁠ looked like a flower in bloom.​

Her​ short blonde hair‌‍​ was the center‌ of the flower.⁠​⁠

The‍‍​ red petals spread‌ open in full⁠ bloom.

She‌ had finally obtained‌⁠‍ freedom.

And‍​‌ Olivia stared at⁠‌ that fully blossomed‍ flower until a servant ran over⁠⁠​ to cover her​​⁠ eyes.

Stella⁠ had been the​ worst kind of‍​ sister.

She⁠ displayed a cruelty​ that should never​ be shown to‌ a child.

But‌​ it was also‍‍ the final act‍⁠ of kindness to⁠ reveal the destiny​⁠⁠ and the even‍‌​ crueler truth behind‍ the Arken bloodline.‌

And‍ through a servant⁠‍‍ whom Stella had‌‍‍ deeply cherished, Olivia​ eventually learned even‌ the secret behind⁠‍‌ that death.

The‌‌‍ cause of Stella’s‍⁠ death had been‌‌ Grand Duke Golt.‌

From‌​ a very early​ age, he had⁠ become obsessed with‍​ the young Stella⁠​ and wanted to​ possess her.

His‌‍ obsession became so​​⁠ extreme that he⁠‍ framed Stella’s fiancé⁠ and had him⁠‍ brutally executed.

Afterward,​ he sent her​​ a message.

He⁠‌⁠ warned her that‌‌ he would destroy⁠ everything she loved​​ in order to‍‍‍ obtain her.

The‌⁠‌ one who cooperated‌ with him was⁠‍‍ the Emperor.

Even⁠⁠ the First Prince​‍ and the Second‌ Prince, blinded by⁠ power, tried to​‍ sell their own​⁠ sister in exchange‌‍ for even greater‍ authority.

That‍​ was the fate⁠ of those so-called‌⁠‌ flowers of the‌ Empire.

Innocence‍⁠ was a luxury‍​ an imperial princess⁠ could not afford.⁠‍

‘The‍⁠‌ sister who died⁠‌ because of you.’‌‍⁠

And‍ you dare.

You‍‌ dare speak her⁠ name with that‍​ filthy mouth!

She⁠⁠‍ repeatedly suppressed the‍‌‍ urge to scream‌⁠‌ hysterically.

Even‍⁠ if no one‌ was watching her,‍‍ there were still​ ears that could⁠ hear.

What‌ existed beneath that⁠⁠​ mask of purity‌‌​ could never be‌ discovered by anyone.​‌

‘This‍ is the only‌‍‍ weapon I possess.’⁠⁠

She​‌​ had promised herself​ that she would‍‌ wear the mask‌​ every man wanted‌⁠ to see.

And⁠⁠​ by using that‍‍‌ mask, she would‌​‍ turn them into​‌​ her tools.

‘But⁠ that wasn’t enough.’​​‌

Manipulating⁠⁠‌ men still meant‌ ultimately depending on‌ men.

She​‌ wanted to spread​​ her wings and⁠⁠ truly fly free.​

And⁠​ she had found‍ only one way‍‌​ out.

‘To⁠‌ become a saint.’​

To⁠ become an absolute⁠ devotee of Alte​‍ and reach a position comparable to‌‍ that of the⁠‌​ Pope.

That‍‍ was the only​​ means of challenging‌‍‍ the curse known​⁠ as blood.

The⁠ reason she could⁠​⁠ even entertain that‌ possibility was because‍ Olivia possessed divine‌‍ power.

According‌​​ to the version‍‌​ known by the​‍‍ public, she had‍⁠​ understood Alte’s teachings,‍‍‍ attained enlightenment, and‌ awakened her sanctity.⁠

But,​​​ as always, the⁠‍‍ story was embellished.‌⁠​

In‌ reality, Olivia’s awakening‌ was born from​ a tragedy.

On​ the day she​‌‍ witnessed Stella’s death,‌ she felt something​⁠​ turning deep within⁠​ her chest.

At​​​ the time, she‌ was too innocent‍ to understand it.‍​‍

But​‌ as she grew​ older, she managed‌‍ to conceptualize it.‌⁠

A Red Circle was​ revolving within her.​​‌

‘To‌‍ reach the rank‌‍ of saint, one​ must attain at‍‍‌ least the Fifth⁠⁠​ Enlightenment.’

In⁠ terms of mages,​ it was equivalent‍⁠ to reaching the‍ 5th Circle.

Olivia‍ was currently at​​⁠ the Third Enlightenment.​​‌

Barely​‍ at the level‍⁠⁠ of an itinerant‍⁠⁠ preacher capable of‍⁠ using light magic​‌ and simple healing⁠​‌ spells.

She‍‍ could not attain‌‍ enlightenment on her‍ own.

She⁠‌ needed someone’s help.‌

The​ religious leader was⁠ useless.

After⁠ all, he was⁠⁠⁠ still an ally‍⁠‌ of the Emperor.‌

That​ was why she⁠‌ needed the help⁠ of the Holy‌​ Emperor of the‍ Holy Nation of​ Odograsa.

He​⁠‍ was a true‍‍ saint who had⁠⁠⁠ shattered her prejudice‌ that all men⁠ were the same.​‌

Olivia‌⁠ sought his guidance.​⁠​

And​ this was his⁠ answer.

“The​​‌ fact that a god dwells within​‌​ you does not⁠‍ mean remaining only​⁠​ inside a cathedral.⁠‌ You must feel‍ and accept that‌ He is always⁠‍‌ watching you and‍‌ standing behind you.”‍​‍

Upon‍‌ hearing that, Olivia⁠‍ thought.

‘There’s​‌‌ an entire carriage‍​⁠ full of people⁠⁠ like that around⁠‍ me. Are all⁠ of them gods?’‌‌

Well,​⁠ yes.

Idiots.⁠⁠

That‍‌​ sarcastic thought made‍‍ it even harder‌ to accept the‍​‍ existence of a god.

So​‌ she cautiously asked​ for a more‍⁠ detailed explanation.

And⁠ the Holy Emperor‌⁠ replied.

“It⁠⁠ is not difficult‍​‌ because you must‌ believe in God.​‌‌ Try to love​​​ God, Princess. Then‍‌ you will also⁠‌ hear His call.”‍​​

He​ said that such​​ love was born​‍​ from following the‍ precepts.

Even⁠ after swearing vengeance‌‍ against her relatives⁠ and dedicating years⁠⁠‌ of her life‍ to following Alte’s‍ commandments, her mana‍ circuit showed not​‍‌ the slightest reaction.⁠⁠

The⁠ divine call never⁠‌‌ came.

Naturally.​‍

Because‌ that could not‌​‍ be called love.‍

‘Love…’‌‍​

What​ exactly was love?​⁠​

They⁠‍ said that if‌⁠ you loved, it‍ would come.

But⁠ she did not⁠⁠⁠ understand that feeling.‌

They‌​ said it could⁠⁠ be seen in​‌​ a person’s gaze.‌

Yet⁠ every gaze directed​⁠‍ toward her always‍ passed over her⁠‌‌ chest first.

Even⁠‍ the supposed leader⁠‌ of the Church⁠ of Alte was⁠‍ no different.

Although,‌​⁠ after receiving so‍‌‌ many looks like​‌ that, she had‌​‌ briefly wondered whether​‍‌ “loving with the‍⁠​ heart” literally meant​​ loving breasts.

‘Love⁠​⁠ is nothing more‌​‍ than a tumor​‍‌ created by sexual‌‍‍ desire.’

Every⁠ man carried one‍ inside him.

And‌‌ all that accumulated‌‌⁠ within her was​ disgust.

She⁠‍⁠ believed she would‌ never understand love.​​​

However,‌ recently even that​ belief had begun‍⁠‍ to waver.

‘Perda‍‍ Valdrova.’

His‌‌​ image suddenly appeared​⁠ in her mind.‌

His⁠⁠ tall stature.

His‌ gray hair.

His⁠⁠⁠ deep blue eyes‌⁠ like a lake.‌

His⁠ pessimistic expression and‌‍ determined behavior.

‘Although‍​ part of that‍ is due to‍ the power he​ possesses…’

He​ had the ability​ to get things‍ done.

The‌‍ people around him⁠ were exceptional.

And‍ he enjoyed prestige.‍​⁠

As⁠ the perception spread​‌‌ that the Far‍ East was relatively‌​ safe, even young‌‌ people from the‍‌ Empire began traveling‌⁠ there to work.‍

That‍‍ was not something⁠‍‍ that could be​ achieved through authority⁠ alone.

‘And‌‍⁠ above all…’

She‍​‍ had never seen​‌⁠ desire in his‌ eyes.

At‌⁠‌ first, it made‌‍‌ her curious.

She​ wanted to know‌‍ how long he‌‌ could maintain that​​ attitude.

She‍​‍ had done things‍⁠​ capable of making​⁠ even married men‌ or knights devoted‌​‌ to their principles‍​ waver.

But⁠‍ Perda’s heart remained‌ completely unmoved.

And​ that irritated her.‌

It‌‌ made her feel‌‍ as though she‍ was the only‌​‌ fool for believing‍‍ all men were​⁠‌ the same.

No.‍‌

She‍⁠‍ truly was a fool.

Perda‍ was working to​ turn the Far‌‌ East into a second capital.

And⁠ the only one‌ incapable of fulfilling‌ her promise to‍‌ become a saint‍‌ and help him‌ was herself.

‘Then‌‍ how am I any different from⁠ those young noblewomen‌​‌ who live in‍⁠‌ a world of​‌⁠ romantic fantasies?’

That​⁠​ was intolerable to‍ Olivia.

She‌‍‍ remained motionless.

She⁠​‍ was of no‍⁠​ help to him.‌‍

She⁠ was barely a collaborator who was‌ supposed to stand‌⁠ on the same‌‌ level as him.‌

And‌‍ yet he continued​​ moving forward while⁠​ she remained behind.⁠​​

‘In‍‍‌ the end, all⁠⁠‌ men are the‌​ same.’

At‌ least in one​ respect.

They‌‍‍ always found a way to irritate​ her.

The⁠⁠ accumulated frustration felt‌‍ as though it‍‌ were drilling through‌​ her skull.

She‍‌⁠ tried distracting herself⁠​‍ by looking out⁠⁠​ the window.

The​​​ blue sky.

The‍‌ barren winter landscape.‌

As⁠‍ her gaze wandered​⁠ without focusing on⁠ anything in particular,​‍​ a small point‌ clearly caught her‍ attention.

“Stop.”​⁠

The‍ carriage halted at​ her command.

She‌⁠‍ got out to​⁠⁠ take a closer‌⁠​ look.

Perhaps‌ she had been⁠​‌ mistaken.

But‌⁠​ after observing carefully,‌ she realized it​​ was no mistake.​‍

‘That​⁠‌ man…’

It‍​ was Perda Valdrova.‌‌⁠

And⁠⁠‌ the person standing​⁠​ beside him was⁠⁠ probably Valdrova’s maid.​⁠

‘What⁠ is he doing‌​⁠ in a place​‍ like this?’

She‍‍‌ mentally reviewed the‍‌‍ map.

The⁠ Rosnova Estate was‌ nearby.

Had‍ he visited his‍ birthplace and ended⁠​⁠ up sitting there?​‍‌

She⁠‌⁠ considered approaching to‌⁠ greet him.

But‍⁠ her steps stopped‍⁠ before she moved‌ forward.

When‍‍‌ she looked at⁠‌‍ him again, she‍‍ noticed that Perda​ seemed extraordinarily dejected.‌‍

It‌ was a completely⁠​⁠ different image from⁠ the man who⁠⁠ always stood straight-backed‌​​ with a cold‍‍​ expression.

‘A‌ weak image…’

Olivia‍‍ hated that.

To‌ her, showing wounds‌​‌ was the same‍ as showing weaknesses.​‌‌

In⁠ the world of⁠​⁠ nobility, a weakness‍‌‌ was like a piece of bleeding​⁠ meat.

The‌‍ nobles, like piranhas,‌ would immediately swarm‌ toward it.

Someone​‍ who could not​ bear the weight‍​ of nobility was‌ of no use​ to her.

“…What⁠‍⁠ a pity.”

Olivia‍ was surprised even​ by her own‍​‌ words.

Had⁠‍‍ she just said​​‌ she felt pity?​‌

Was⁠​ she really sympathizing​ with that man?‌​

For‌​ a moment, she‌ thought she had‌ to be mistaken.‌

But​​ instead of feeling⁠⁠​ contempt and letting​ out a sigh‍⁠‌ of frustration, her​⁠ chest hurt.

‘Why?’⁠‌

Olivia​‍ examined that unfamiliar‌ feeling over and​‍⁠ over, trying to‍ understand it.

What⁠​ exactly was she‍‍ expecting from that⁠‌​ man?

The​‌ thought frightened even⁠ her.

And‍‌‌ yet, she did‌ not let go‌ of that feeling.‍

Without​‌‍ realizing it, she​⁠ placed both hands​ over her chest‍​⁠ and clasped them‌ together.

Her‍‍⁠ gaze remained fixed‌⁠ on him, carried‌⁠ away by her​ emotions.

She⁠‍ wanted to lick‍⁠ away the tears​⁠ he shed.

She⁠⁠ wanted to taste‌​ his sorrow.

That‍‍ feeling continued growing​​‍ and growing.

Eventually,‍ the two hands‌⁠ resting on her‌​‌ chest ended up​​ folded over one‌ another.

As‍⁠ if she were​ praying.

‘If​‌‌ I…’

For​⁠‍ the first time‌ in her life,‌ Olivia felt something‌‌‌ like this.

‘If​‌⁠ I could become‍​⁠ that man’s support…’‌⁠‌

It⁠⁠ was not contempt​ for weakness.

It‌ was compassion.

And‌ then—

“Ah.”‌‌‌

She‍​‍ began to feel​‌‍ a strange sensation⁠ within her body.​‌

The‍ very thing that​⁠ had been the‌⁠ main reason she‍​ had never been​‌‌ able to become‍ a saint.

The⁠⁠ thing that no‌ longer reacted no‌ matter how many​‍⁠ times she deceived‌‍ herself into calling⁠ herself a fervent⁠ devotee.

It​‌ was moving.

Without​ a doubt, this⁠​‌ was the love‌⁠‍ for a god‍‌‍ that the Holy‌​ Emperor had spoken​​ of.

And​‌⁠ then she understood.⁠

‘Perda…’​⁠

That‍‍​ he was the​ very god she⁠‌ was meant to‍‍ shelter within her​ heart.

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