Chapter 110

Chapter 110: Embracing a God

The Arken Empire must be superior to all else.
Therefore, the imperial carriage was approximately one and a half times wider than other carriages, and its interior boasted a comfort akin to clouds.
A single movement of that carriage cost the monthly operating budget of a village, and it embarked on a long journey.
The carriage’s destination was a giant dome, like a birdcage, in a remote location.
— We have arrived, Princess-nim.
The one who stepped out of the carriage was Olivia Arken.
She was beautiful, worthy of being the Flower of the Empire.
Upon entering, one did not find a dry winter, but a fresh, green spring.
— I will take your coat.
— No. I will keep it on. It might get cold, you know?
— It is the dress code set by the Grand Duke-nim, so please cooperate.
— …..
Olivia took off her thick coat and moved along the garden path.
Passing flowerbeds where rare flowers from across the continent were treasured and cultivated, she headed toward the artificial lake at the end.
At the edge of the land stood a table from which one could gaze upon the lake.
— Oh, my, welcome, Princess-nim.
An old man with white hair and age spots that contrasted with the bluish spring garden straightened his back and greeted her.
He was Grand Duke Valdemar Golt, a high noble of the Arken Empire.
Olivia skillfully donned her mask and smiled.
— Greetings, Grand Duke Golt. As expected of the most prestigious house in the Empire, you enjoy refined leisure in a splendid place.
— Ho, ho, ho, excessive praise. The scenery is fine, and isn’t it all about playing in the water and drinking in a place like this? Come, sit here.
Valdemar personally pulled out a chair for her.
As Olivia took her seat, Valdemar’s hand lightly touched her shoulder.
— Cough, cough.
Olivia coughed and leaned forward.
She smiled brightly and struck up light conversation.
— My throat is so dry from the long journey.
— Oh, my, what were they doing inside that they didn’t even serve tea? Allow me to pour you a drink myself.
Valdemar headed to the drink table himself.
— What alcohol would you like?
— Alcohol, you say? That is a bit difficult…
Olivia showed reluctance with moist, glistening eyes.
— I do not handle alcohol well…
— Then why not take this opportunity to learn?
— Well. I worry. They say a woman who enjoys alcohol is a vixen, do they not? I do not want to become such a vixen.
— I should call you a virtuous woman who knows how to enjoy refined leisure with a gentleman.
— I do not believe I will ever become a virtuous woman in my entire life.
Valdemar insisted persistently, but Olivia refused to the end.
Unable to do otherwise, he offered her hot tea.
However, Olivia only pretended to sip it, without actually drinking.
She did not touch any of the drinks or food Valdemar had prepared.
She was like a doll.
She smiled, but her eyes did not meet Valdemar’s, and there was no vitality in them.
Such a haughty appearance could have been unpleasant, but Valdemar’s two eyes, curved like crescent moons, looked at her with a piercing intensity as if pleased.
Sticky lips parted slightly and let out an exclamation.
— Stella was just around this age.
Olivia flinched.
Olivia’s face tightened momentarily.
— That child was also beautiful back then, but the Princess grows more beautiful by the day.
Olivia covered her mouth with a fan and smiled with her eyes.
— Ho, ho, my Mother-nim was called a Beauty That Topples Nations. With Golden Blood and peerless beauty combined, how could she not be beautiful?
— Ha, ha, ha! Those words are correct!
The old duke laughed heartily and subtly reached out his hand.
— They say you are of marrying age, yet you have no man?
Olivia picked up her teacup.
— Yes. It seems I have not found anyone yet.
— Do not look too far. The person who will become your partner is closer than you think.
— Oh, my, is that so?
— What do age or appearance matter? A man who values you, a man with power; you must catch him somehow.
— I will take those words to heart. I will be sure to search.
They were conversing, but going in circles.
It was a situation both Olivia and Valdemar could fully perceive.
She hoped he would grow weary and leave, but Valdemar was not an easy opponent.
Only after three hours of courtship and conversation did he release her.
— Shall we end our enjoyment here, then?
— Thanks to you, it seems I am leaving after having enjoyed myself pleasantly.
She did not even say out of politeness that she wished to stay longer.
As she rose with parting greetings, Valdemar subtly extended his hand.
Olivia looked at that hand and tilted her head.
— Why do you do that? Suddenly extending your hand.
— It is for a handshake, is it not?
There was no way she did not know.
— Oh, my, I see. Understood.
Olivia stepped forward to take that hand.
— Ahem, when shaking hands, it is proper etiquette to touch the other’s bare skin.
— It is awkward and burdensome for a maiden of marrying age to hold hands with a man.
— You did not touch the food or drink prepared, and you were also perfunctory with my words; surely you can grant such a small request as holding this hand?
That was a threat.
A threat to grant one last request before she threw a tantrum to the Emperor about feeling uncomfortable.
Olivia felt she could no longer refuse.
Reluctantly, she took off her glove, took his hand, and shook it briefly.
No, a prolonged handshake.
When she subtly tried to withdraw her hand, he squeezed it tightly.
For a half-dead old man, his grip was far too strong.
Her hand hurt so much she wanted to scream.
— Will you not let go now?
— Ho, ho, ho, I held on for too long. My apologies.
Only then did Valdemar release her.
She offered a slight bow with her eyes and exited the greenhouse.
Before walking out, Olivia looked at a porcelain pot.
The glaze made the exterior smooth and shiny enough to serve as a mirror.
Grand Duke Valdemar Golt’s face was clearly visible.
His eyes smiled lewdly, and he hungrily licked the hand they had shaken.
Upon returning to the carriage, Olivia spoke to the escort knight who was about to close the door.
— Could you give me some perfume?
— Yes.
The rose perfume Olivia frequently used.
She opened the bottle and poured the entire contents over her right hand.
Slick oil ran down her hand and dripped onto the floor.
The carriage filled with a heavy rose scent.
Even with the suffocating fragrance, she did not care.
She wiped her hand again and again with a white-embroidered silk handkerchief.
Grand Duke Golt’s face rose in her mind.
That greedy face seemed to overlap with that of the Great Demon, Morax.
“Filthy.”
Rub, rub.
“Filthy, filthy.”
Rub, rub, rub, rub.
“Filthy, filthy, filthy!!!”
She wiped and wiped again.
Finally, her hand, previously white as porcelain, turned bright red and stung.
She wondered if she could not simply tear that skin off.
She wanted to cut off every part that had touched Valdemar.
“Grand Duke Golt…”
The handkerchief in her hand crumpled.
Wearing a mask had its limits.
Her porcelain mask cracked, distorting with rage.
“Does he dare utter that name with that foul mouth?”
Stella Arken.
An older sister by eight years, a woman kinder than anyone.
Possessor of talent and beauty, she even had an excellent fiancé whom she herself had chosen.
Young Olivia’s role model was none other than her.
But, at some point, Stella changed.
It was from the day the engagement was broken.
Because her fiancé was arrested on charges of treason and vanished like dew on the scaffold.
That was the beginning.
The always bright and beautiful flower withered and became haggard.
The Stella in Olivia’s last memory had her golden, silk-like hair cut into a bob.
— Olivia.
A broken voice.
— The Empire’s scenery is truly beautiful, is it not?
Her body was precariously perched on the terrace.
Olivia spoke to her with a worried expression.
— Eonni, it is dangerous to be in such a place.
— Fufu, that is why you must stay away from Eonni, Olivia. Just for today, you must.
— Come down. Eonni.
— Stay there and listen closely to Eonni. Olivia is a good girl, so you understand, right?
— Yes, Eonni…
She smiled.
There was no warmth.
Olivia did not act spoiled.
— What flows in our bodies?
Stella asked.
— Golden Blood. I heard our blood flows gold.
— Fufu, naive Olivia. It would be nice if you could maintain that naivety forever… but now you must wake from the dream.
Stella’s body tilted.
— Please confirm it clearly with those two eyes.
She threw her body just like that.
Young Olivia thought wings would suddenly sprout from her sister and she would turn into an angel.
But there was no angel.
Only her sister’s corpse, fallen upon the ground, filled her vision.
It looked like a single flower blooming.
The short-cut yellow bob hair like the flower’s center. Red petals opening widely.
Having finally obtained freedom…
She watched it fully bloom until a servant ran over and covered little Olivia’s eyes.
Stella was the worst eonni.
A cruelty that could not be shown to a younger sister.
Yet, it was a final kindness more cruel than that, informing her of the fate and truth of the Arken bloodline.
And through the servant Stella favored, she even learned the secret behind that death.
The cause of that death was Grand Duke Golt.
He had long adored the young Stella and wanted to possess her.
That persistence framed Stella’s fiancé and had him cruelly executed.
And he sent a message.
That he would destroy everything she loved to have her.
The one who cooperated was the Emperor.
The First Prince and Second Prince, blinded by power, even tried to sell their own sister to seize mighty authority.
That was the fate of those called the Flowers of the Empire.
Purity is a luxury a Princess cannot afford.
‘My eonni who died because of you.’
With that filthy mouth.
How dare he!
She suppresses the urge to scream hysterically.
Even if there are no eyes watching her now, there are ears listening.
What lies beyond this mask of purity she wears must never be revealed to anyone.
‘This is the only weapon I have.’
I will wear the mask that all men like.
And by wearing that mask, I will turn them into my hands and feet.
‘But that was not enough.’
Controlling men ultimately meant being unable to escape from men.
She truly wanted to spread her wings and fly freely.
The breakthrough she found for that was one.
‘Saintess.’
Becoming a devout believer of Alte, seizing a position comparable to that of the Pope.
That was the only means to resist this cursed blood fate.
The reason Olivia could even harbor such a possibility was that she possessed divine power.
Publicly known, she attained enlightenment by comprehending the doctrine of Alte, and it was known that divinity dwelt within her.
But as always, the story is packaged, and Olivia’s true awakening began with tragedy.
The day Olivia witnessed Stella’s death, she felt something deep inside her chest begin to turn deeply.
At that time, she was too naive to know, but as she grew, she was able to conceptualize it.
A Red Circle was spinning inside her body.
‘To reach the position of Saintess, the minimum requirement is the Fifth Enlightenment.’
In mage terms, one must reach the 5th Circle.
Olivia had currently reached the Third Enlightenment.
She was at the level of a village circuit preacher who uses simple healing arts and light magic.
Since she could not attain enlightenment alone, she needed someone’s help.
The High Priest’s help was useless.
That bastard is still in collusion with the Emperor.
That was why she needed the help of the Holy Emperor of the Odograsado Holy Empire.
He was a true saint who shattered the prejudice that all men are the same.
Olivia sought his counsel, and his answer was this.
— A god that dwells within you does not simply stay inside a cathedral. You must feel and accept that He always watches you, that He is at your back.
Hearing those words, Olivia thought.
‘There are a bunch of those bastards around me, were they gods?’
‘They are, of course.’
‘Stupid bastards.’
With such sarcastic thoughts rising first, accepting the existence of a god became even more difficult.
So she carefully asked for a bit more advice.
Then the Holy Emperor responded like this.
— It is difficult because you believe you must simply believe in a god. Try loving Him, Princess. Then His call will surely reach you as well.
He said that love comes from keeping the precepts.
She ended her vow of vengeance against her blood relatives, moved according to Alte’s precepts, and dedicated years to it, but her mana circuit did not stir.
God’s call was not heard.
It was only natural.
Because that could not be called love.
‘Love, huh…?’
What is love?
They say if you love, it comes, but I do not know that emotion called love.
They say it is felt in the gaze, but the eyes toward her always pierce the chest.
The High Priest of the Althean Religion was the same.
Only, because of that gaze, the phrase ‘to love with the chest’ made her wonder if it meant loving the chest.
‘Love is merely a tumorous lump made of lust.’
All men had that tumor, one each.
As only disgust accumulated, she thought she would never know love for all eternity.
Yet recently, even that thought was denied.
‘Ferda Valdrova.’
His figure suddenly appeared in her mind.
Tall stature, gray hair, deep blue eyes like a lake.
A pessimistic expression and resolute actions.
‘It is partly because power backs him…’
He has execution ability, the figures surrounding him are outstanding, and he possesses virtue.
As awareness spread that the Far East was a sure thing, young people leaving to work there also appeared within the Empire.
Those are not phenomena achievable merely by riding on authority.
‘Above all…’
His eyes had never shown lust.
At first, she felt curious.
How long he could maintain that appearance.
Even married men, even knights faithful to precepts would have wavered slightly before the things he did, but his heart was immovable.
So she grew annoyed.
She felt that only she, who thought all men were the same, was becoming a fool.
No, she is a fool.
Ferda is currently striving to make the Far East the Second Capital.
Isn’t she the only one not fulfilling the promise to become a Saintess and be his strength?
‘At this rate, what is the difference between me and those young ladies with flower gardens for heads?’
It was something Olivia could not tolerate.
Just standing still, without helping him in the slightest.
Barely an assistant on equal footing, and yet, he is the one moving forward.
‘As expected, men are all the same.’
The point that they somehow annoyed her was the same.
It felt as if internal irritation was pricking her head.
Attempting to change her mood, she looked out the window.
Blue sky and the barren land of winter.
In her vision, which could not focus properly, a single distinct point caught her attention.
— Stop.
At her command, the carriage halted.
Thinking it might be a mistake, she rose from her seat and checked again.
Perhaps she had been mistaken.
Yet looking closely, she knew it was no mistake.
‘That man is…’
It was Ferda Valdrova.
The person beside him would be Valdrova’s maid.
‘Why is he in a place like this?’
Searching the map in her head, the Rosnova Family was nearby.
Had he stopped by his family’s home briefly and was sitting there?
Thinking to at least give a greeting, she took a step toward him.
Yet her feet moved no further.
Ferda’s appearance, confirmed again, was infinitely heavy.
Unlike someone who at least kept his back straight and a cold expression, he seemed helpless.
‘A weak appearance…’
Olivia hated such appearances.
To her, someone who revealed wounds was the same as showing weakness.
In the noble world, weakness is like a piece of meat reeking of blood.
Piranha-minded nobles tear that wound apart in an instant.
Those who could not bear the weight of nobility were unnecessary to her.
— …How pitiful.
Olivia was surprised by her own words.
Had she just said he was pitiful?
Was she truly sympathizing with that man?
She wondered if she had made a mistake.
Yet instead of a sigh of pity, her heart ached.
‘Why?’
Olivia ruminated on the meaning of this unfamiliar emotion.
What do I want from that man?
Olivia, frightening even herself, did not let go of that sensation.
Unconsciously, she placed both hands over her own chest, overlapping them.
Olivia’s gaze held him, and she let herself be carried where her emotions guided her.
Savoring the tears he would shed, reveling in the sorrow.
That heart swelled more and more, and finally the two hands upon her chest met, overlapping.
As if offering a prayer.
‘I.’
Olivia felt it for the first time then.
‘If I could become that man’s support…’
Not contempt for helplessness, but sympathy.
It was then that.
— Ah.
She began to feel a strange sensation from within her body.
The greatest reason she could not become a Saintess,
Even deceiving herself as a devout believer, it no longer stirred,
That thing was moving.
This was unmistakably the love toward a god spoken of by the Holy Emperor.
She finally realized.
‘Ferda…’
That he is the god she must keep in her heart.