Chapter 110: Chapter 110
Chapter 110 - Embracing a God
The Arken Empire had to stand above all else.
That was why even the Imperial carriage was nearly half again as large as ordinary carriages, its interior boasting cloud-like comfort.
Simply setting it in motion cost enough to cover a village’s operating expenses for an entire month.
Today, that lavish carriage traveled a long distance.
Its destination was a colossal dome standing in isolation, like a giant birdcage.
"Your Highness, we have arrived."
The person who stepped out of the carriage was Olivia Arken.
As befitted the Flower of the Empire, she was breathtakingly beautiful.
As she entered the dome, she found not the dry chill of winter but the vibrant freshness of spring.
"Allow me to take your coat."
"No. I’ll keep it on. It might be cold."
"The dress code was established by His Grace the Grand Duke. We humbly ask for your cooperation."
"..."
Olivia removed her thick overcoat and walked along the prepared path.
She passed flowerbeds filled with precious blossoms gathered from across the Cerdes Continent, eventually arriving at an artificial lake at the very end.
At the edge of the land stood a table overlooking the lake.
"Oh! Welcome, Your Highness."
An elderly man, his white hair and age spots contrasting sharply against the vivid spring garden, straightened his back and greeted her.
He was Grand Duke Valdemar Golt, one of the Empire’s highest-ranking nobles.
Olivia effortlessly put on her mask and smiled.
"It is an honor to meet you, Grand Duke Golt. As expected of one of the Empire’s greatest noble houses, you enjoy such refined scenery."
"Hoho, you’re too kind. The view is wonderful, and what better place is there to enjoy a drink while playing in the water? Come, have a seat."
Valdemar personally pulled out a chair for her.
As Olivia sat down, his hand casually brushed against her shoulder.
"Cough, cough."
She coughed and leaned forward.
Smiling gently, she joked,
"Perhaps because of the long journey, my throat feels terribly dry."
"Oh dear! What were they doing inside, neglecting to offer you refreshments? Allow me."
Valdemar personally walked over to the drink table.
"What would you like to drink?"
"Alcohol? That would be rather difficult..."
Olivia answered with eyes shimmering with gentle hesitation.
"I’m not very good with alcohol..."
"Then why not learn today?"
"I’m not so sure. They do say that women who enjoy drinking are temptresses. I’d rather not become one."
"Then let us call you a virtuous lady who appreciates refined company."
"I’m afraid I’ll never become such a lady."
Valdemar pressed the matter relentlessly, but Olivia refused to the very end.
Left with no choice, he offered her warm tea instead.
Even then, Olivia merely pretended to sip without actually drinking.
She did not touch a single drink or piece of food that Valdemar had prepared.
She was like a porcelain doll.
Though she smiled, her eyes never met Valdemar’s, and there was no life within them.
Such cold dignity should have been irritating.
Instead, Valdemar’s crescent-shaped eyes stared at her with unmistakable delight.
His sticky lips parted as he sighed in admiration.
"Stella was exactly your age back then."
She froze.
Olivia’s face stiffened for the briefest moment.
"She was so beautiful at this age as well. But Your Highness only grows more beautiful with each passing year."
Olivia hid her lips behind her fan and smiled with her eyes.
"Hoho. Mother was once called a beauty capable of toppling kingdoms. With the Golden Blood and incomparable beauty combined, isn’t it only natural?"
"Hoho! Quite right!"
The elderly Grand Duke chuckled as he quietly reached out his hand.
"I hear you’ve reached marriageable age, yet you still have no man."
Olivia picked up her teacup.
"That’s correct. It seems I simply haven’t found one yet."
"Don’t look too far away. The one destined to be your partner is often much closer than you think."
"Oh my, is that so?"
"What do age or appearance matter? If he’s a man who cherishes you and possesses power, you must seize him no matter what."
"I shall treasure those words. I’ll be sure to look carefully."
They continued talking.
Yet the conversation went nowhere.
Both Olivia and Valdemar were fully aware of it.
She hoped he would eventually grow tired and let her leave.
Unfortunately, Valdemar was not such an easy man to exhaust.
Only after three long hours of relentless courtship and meaningless conversation did he finally release her.
"Shall we call it a day?"
"I truly enjoyed myself. Thank you."
She did not even offer the customary politeness of saying she wished she could stay longer.
As she stood to leave after exchanging formal farewells, Valdemar casually extended his hand.
Olivia looked down at it and tilted her head.
"What is it? Why are you holding out your hand?"
"For a handshake, of course."
There was no way she didn’t understand.
"Oh, I see. Very well."
Olivia reached out to shake his hand.
"Ahem. Proper etiquette requires skin-to-skin contact."
"As an unmarried woman of marriageable age, holding a man’s hand feels rather embarrassing."
"You haven’t touched the food or wine I prepared, and you’ve scarcely listened to what I’ve said. Surely you can at least grant me this small request."
It was a threat.
A warning to satisfy his final request before he caused trouble by complaining to the Emperor that he had been offended.
Olivia realized she could no longer refuse.
Reluctantly, she removed her glove and clasped his hand for what was supposed to be a brief handshake.
It was anything but brief.
Whenever she tried to pull away, his grip tightened.
For an old man who looked ready to die at any moment, his grip was terrifyingly strong.
Her hand hurt so much she nearly cried out.
"Would you kindly let go now?"
"Hoho. It seems I held on for too long. My apologies."
Only then did Valdemar release her.
Olivia offered a small nod and left the greenhouse.
Before stepping outside, she casually glanced toward a ceramic flowerpot.
Its glossy glaze was polished enough to serve as a mirror.
She could clearly see Grand Duke Valdemar Golt’s reflection.
His eyes were smiling with sinister delight.
And he was greedily licking the very hand that had just touched hers.
***
Back inside the carriage, Olivia spoke to the escort knight who was about to close the door.
"Could you hand me my perfume?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
It was her favorite rose perfume.
She uncorked the bottle and poured every last drop over her right hand.
The slick oil ran down her fingers and dripped onto the carriage floor.
The interior was soon filled with the overwhelming scent of roses.
Even though the fragrance was nearly suffocating, she paid it no mind.
Using a silk handkerchief embroidered with white thread, she scrubbed her hand over and over.
Grand Duke Golt’s face filled her thoughts.
That greedy expression overlapped with the face of the Great Demon, Morax.
Filthy.
Scrub.
Filthy, filthy.
Scrub, scrub, scrub.
Filthy! Filthy! FILTHY!!!
She kept scrubbing.
Eventually, the hand that had once resembled white jade turned bright red and stung with pain.
Wouldn’t it be better if she could simply peel this skin away?
She wanted to carve away every place that Valdemar had touched.
Grand Duke Golt...
The handkerchief crumpled tightly in her fist.
Even wearing a mask had its limits.
The porcelain mask she wore shattered, twisted by rage.
How dare you utter that name?
Stella Arken.
Her elder sister, eight years older than Olivia.
A gentle woman unlike anyone else.
She possessed both beauty and talent, and even had an excellent fiancé she had personally chosen.
When Olivia was young, Stella had been her role model.
But at some point...
Stella changed.
It began the day her engagement was broken.
Her fiancé had been arrested on fabricated charges of treason and executed.
From that day onward...
The flower that had always bloomed so brightly began to wither.
She grew thinner and more haggard.
The Stella Olivia remembered at the end had cut off her hair, which had once shimmered like golden silk.
"Olivia."
Her voice had been cracked and hoarse.
"Isn’t the scenery of the Empire beautiful?"
Her body stood precariously upon the terrace railing.
Olivia looked at her anxiously.
"Big Sister, it’s dangerous up there."
"Hehe. That’s why you must step away from me today, Olivia. Just for today."
"Please come down."
"Stand where you are and listen carefully to your big sister. You’re such a good girl, Olivia. Understood?"
"Yes... Big Sister..."
She smiled.
But there was no warmth in it.
Olivia didn’t throw a childish tantrum.
"What flows through our bodies?"
Stella asked.
"The Golden Blood. They say our blood is literally golden."
"Hehe. Innocent Olivia. I wish you could remain this innocent forever... but it’s time to wake up from your dream."
Stella leaned forward.
"Please... witness it with your own eyes."
She threw herself off.
Young Olivia believed wings would suddenly sprout from her sister’s back and that she would become an angel.
But no angel appeared.
Instead, all she saw was her sister’s broken body lying on the ground.
It looked as though a single flower had blossomed.
The short golden hair became its center.
The crimson blood spread outward like blooming petals.
At last...
She had found freedom.
Olivia watched the flower continue to bloom until an Attendant rushed over and covered her eyes.
Stella had been the worst sister imaginable.
She had shown her little sister a cruelty no child should ever witness.
Yet it was also her final act of kindness.
She had revealed the cruel truth and cursed destiny of the Arken bloodline.
Later, through the Attendant Stella trusted most, Olivia learned even the secret behind her death.
The one responsible was Grand Duke Golt.
He had long desired the young Stella.
He wanted to possess her.
His obsession drove him to frame Stella’s fiancé and have him brutally executed.
Then he sent Stella a message.
To obtain her...
He would destroy everything she loved.
The one who cooperated with him was the Emperor.
Even the First Prince and Second Prince, blinded by ambition, were willing to sell their own sister in exchange for overwhelming political power.
That was the fate of those known as the Flowers of the Empire.
Purity was a luxury no Imperial Princess could ever afford.
My sister died because of you...
And you dare—
With that filthy mouth—
How dare you!
She desperately swallowed back the scream threatening to burst from her lips.
Even if no one was watching, someone could always be listening.
No one could ever discover what lay beyond the mask of innocence she wore.
This is the only weapon I possess.
She would continue wearing the mask every man adored.
And by wearing it, she would make them dance like puppets.
But even that wasn’t enough.
Controlling men still meant remaining trapped by them.
She wanted true freedom.
She wanted to spread her wings without depending on anyone.
There was only one path she had found.
A Saint.
To become a devout follower of Alte, rising to a position equal to that of the Pope.
Only then could she resist the cursed destiny carried within her blood.
The only reason she could even dream of such a possibility was because she possessed divine power.
To the outside world, it was said that by studying Alte’s teachings, she had attained enlightenment and received divine grace.
But as always, history was embellished.
In truth, Olivia’s awakening had begun with tragedy.
On the day she witnessed Stella’s death, she felt something deep within her chest begin to rotate.
At the time she had been too innocent to understand.
Only after she grew older did she finally grasp what it had been.
Inside her body...
A Red Circle had been turning.
To attain the position of a Saint, I need at least the Fifth Enlightenment.
For a Mage, that was equivalent to reaching the Fifth Circle.
Olivia had currently reached the Third Enlightenment.
She was merely at the level of a traveling village missionary capable of using simple healing arts and light magic.
She could not achieve further enlightenment alone.
She needed someone’s help.
The Pope’s help was impossible.
That man was still allied with the Emperor.
Therefore...
She needed the assistance of the Holy Emperor of Orosagrado.
He was a true saint—the man who shattered her belief that all men were the same.
Olivia sought his guidance.
His answer was simple.
"For a god to dwell within you does not simply mean remaining inside a cathedral. You must accept that He is always watching over you, always standing behind you."
After hearing those words, Olivia couldn’t help but think,
There are already enough bastards constantly lurking behind me to fill an entire carriage. Were they gods too?
Well...
In a sense, they were.
Idiots.
The sarcastic thought made it even harder for her to accept the existence of a god.
So she cautiously asked for more guidance.
The Holy Emperor replied,
"It is difficult because you are trying merely to believe in God. Instead, try to love Him, Your Highness. If you do, you too will surely hear His calling."
He said that such love came from faithfully following His commandments.
She had even made her Oath of Vengeance against her blood relatives and had spent years living according to Alte’s doctrines.
Yet her mana circuits had not stirred in the slightest.
The call of God never came.
That was only natural.
Because that could never be called love.
Love...
What even is love?
They said it would come if you loved.
But she didn’t understand what that feeling called love even was.
People said you could feel it through someone’s gaze.
Yet every pair of eyes directed at her always passed over her chest before reaching her face.
Even the man calling himself the Pope of the Church of Alte was no different.
Still, because of those gazes, she had occasionally wondered whether the saying that "love comes from the heart" actually meant men loved a woman’s breasts.
Love is nothing more than a tumor born from lust.
Every man carried that tumor.
The only thing that continued to accumulate within her was disgust.
She had believed she would never understand what love truly was.
Recently, however...
Even that belief had begun to crumble.
Ferda Valdrova.
His image suddenly surfaced in her mind.
A tall figure.
Gray hair.
Blue eyes as deep as a tranquil lake.
A face carrying quiet pessimism.
Actions filled with unwavering resolve.
Though much of it is supported by his authority...
He possessed remarkable execution.
The people around him were exceptional.
He also commanded genuine respect.
As the perception spread that the Far East had become relatively safe, even young people within the Empire had begun traveling there in search of work.
Such a phenomenon could never be achieved through prestige alone.
More importantly...
Not once had his eyes shown even the slightest trace of lust.
At first, she had simply been curious.
How long can he keep pretending?
Even married men...
Even Knights devoted to their vows...
Had wavered, if only a little, under the situations she had deliberately created.
Yet Ferda’s heart never moved.
That irritated her.
It made her feel like the fool for believing all men were the same.
No...
She really was the fool.
Ferda was working tirelessly to turn the Far East into the Empire’s second capital.
The only one who had failed to keep the promise of becoming a Saint and supporting him...
Was herself.
At this rate, how am I any different from those empty-headed noble ladies?
For Olivia, that was unacceptable.
She was doing nothing but standing still.
She had not become even the slightest help to him.
She was supposed to be his equal...
A partner standing beside him.
Yet he continued moving ahead while she remained behind.
Men really are all the same.
The fact that they somehow always managed to irritate her remained unchanged.
The frustration bottled inside felt as though it were stabbing at her mind.
Trying to distract herself, she looked out the carriage window.
A blue sky.
The barren winter earth.
Nothing particularly caught her eye—
Except for a tiny dot in the distance.
"Stop."
The carriage halted immediately at her command.
Thinking she might have been mistaken, she stepped outside and looked again.
Perhaps it had simply been her imagination.
But after looking more carefully...
She realized it wasn’t.
That man...
It was Ferda Valdrova.
The person beside him was likely Valdrova’s Maid.
Why is he here?
She searched through the map in her mind.
There was a Rosnova estate nearby.
Had he stopped by his family’s home before sitting there?
Thinking she should at least greet him, she took a step toward him.
But she could go no farther.
The Ferda she now saw...
Seemed unbearably heavy.
He looked utterly powerless—
Nothing like the man who always stood straight with an icy expression.
A weak side...
Olivia despised such things.
To her, revealing one’s wounds was the same as exposing one’s weakness.
Among nobles...
Weakness was no different from a blood-soaked piece of meat.
The piranhas of noble society would tear into it without hesitation.
Someone incapable of bearing the weight of nobility...
Had no place beside her.
"...How pitiful."
The words slipped from Olivia’s lips.
She startled herself.
Did I... just say he was pitiful?
Am I truly sympathizing with that man?
Perhaps she was mistaken.
Yet instead of sighing in disappointment at his weakness...
Her chest simply ached.
Why?
Olivia searched desperately for the meaning behind this unfamiliar emotion.
What exactly do I want from him?
It frightened even herself.
Yet she refused to let go of that feeling.
Without realizing it, she placed both hands over her chest.
Her eyes remained fixed on him.
She simply allowed her emotions to guide her.
She imagined herself licking away the tears he might shed...
Sharing in every ounce of his sorrow.
That feeling continued to swell.
At last, the hands resting upon her chest overlapped one another.
As though she were offering a prayer.
If only...
For the very first time...
Olivia understood.
If only I could become the one who supports that man...
What she felt was not contempt for weakness.
It was compassion.
Then—
"Ah."
A strange sensation spread throughout her body.
The very thing that had never moved—
The greatest reason she had failed to become a Saint—
The thing that had remained completely still no matter how thoroughly she deceived herself into believing she was a devout follower—
It had begun to move.
This...
Without question...
Was the love for God that the Holy Emperor had spoken of.
At last, she understood.
Ferda...
He was the god she was meant to embrace within her heart.
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