Chapter 110: Embracing God
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 110: Embracing God
The Arken Empire brooked no equal.
Accordingly, the imperial carriage was nearly twice as spacious as any other, boasting an interior as plush as a bed of clouds. A single journey in this vessel cost as much as the monthly operating budget of an entire village, and today, it was embarking on a long trek.
The carriage’s destination was a massive dome, resembling a gilded birdcage, situated in a remote location.
“We have arrived, Imperial Princess.”
The woman who stepped out of the carriage was Olivia Arken. True to her reputation as the Flower of the Empire, she was a vision of peerless beauty.
Stepping inside the dome, she found not the withered husk of winter, but the vibrant, lush essence of eternal spring.
“I shall take your coat, Your Highness.”
“No. I’ll keep it on. It might be chilly, after all.”
“This is the dress code established by the Grand Duke. I must ask for your cooperation.”
“……”
Olivia removed her heavy coat and followed the path. She passed flowerbeds where rare flora from across the continent were meticulously tended, heading toward the artificial lake at the far end. At the edge of the land sat a table overlooking the water.
“Oho, welcome, Imperial Princess.”
An old man with hair white as bone and skin mottled with liver spots—a stark contrast to the vibrant spring garden—straightened his back and greeted her. It was Grand Duke Waldemar Golt, a high-ranking noble of the Arken Empire.
Olivia skillfully donned her mask and smiled.
“It is a pleasure to see you, Grand Duke Golt. As expected of the empire’s most prestigious house, you certainly know how to enjoy the finer things in such a magnificent setting.”
“Haha, you flatter me. The scenery is pleasant, and what better place is there to enjoy a drink than while watching the water? Come, please, have a seat.”
Waldemar personally pulled out a chair for her. As Olivia sat, his hand brushed lightly against her shoulder.
“Cough, cough.”
Olivia coughed and leaned forward, slipping away from his touch. She gave a playful smile, making light of the moment.
“Perhaps because of the long journey, my throat feels quite parched.”
“Oh dear, what were the servants doing, not offering tea inside? Let me get you a drink.”
Waldemar moved toward the refreshment stand himself.
“What kind of spirits would you prefer?”
“Spirits? That is a bit difficult…”
Olivia looked troubled, her eyes shimmering with feigned hesitation.
“I’m afraid I cannot handle alcohol…”
“Then why not take this opportunity to learn today?”
“I wonder. I am worried, you see. They say a woman who enjoys drink is a temptress, do they not? I have no wish to become such a woman.”
“One should call her a wise woman who knows how to enjoy life with a gentleman.”
“I fear I shall never be a wise woman in my lifetime.”
Waldemar pushed persistently, but Olivia refused to the end. Reluctantly, he handed her a cup of warm tea. Even then, Olivia only made a show of sipping it; she did not actually drink. She didn’t touch a single item of food or drink Waldemar had prepared.
She was like a doll. Though she wore a smile, her eyes never met Waldemar’s, and they were devoid of life.
One might expect such a haughty attitude to be offensive, but Waldemar’s eyes, curved like half-moons, stared at her with blatant relish. His wet lips parted as he exhaled an exclamation of admiration.
“Stella was just about this age.”
Olivia stiffened momentarily.
“That child was truly beautiful at that age as well, but you, Princess, grow more beautiful by the day.”
Olivia hid her mouth behind her fan and smiled with her eyes.
“Hoho, my sister was known as a beauty capable of toppling empires. When Golden Blood and peerless beauty combine, is it not only natural to be beautiful?”
“Haha! You are quite right!”
The old Duke laughed heartily and reached out a hand.
“I hear you are of marriageable age, yet have no man?”
Olivia gripped her teacup.
“Yes. It seems I have yet to find one.”
“Do not look too far. The one to be your partner is closer than you think.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“What do age or appearance matter? If he is a man who treasures you, a man with power, you must seize him by any means necessary.”
“I shall take those words to heart. I will be sure to look for him.”
They were conversing, but the dialogue was hollow. Both Olivia and Waldemar were well aware of the reality. She hoped he would grow tired and give up, but Waldemar was not an easy man to deter.
Only after three hours of persistent courtship and conversation did he finally release her.
“Shall we conclude our enjoyment here for today?”
“Thanks to you, I feel I have enjoyed myself thoroughly before leaving.”
She didn’t even offer a polite lie about wanting to stay longer. As she stood up to offer her parting greetings, Waldemar subtly extended his hand.
Olivia looked down at his hand and tilted her head.
“Is something the matter? Extending your hand so suddenly.”
“Is it not standard to shake hands?”
There was no way she didn't know.
“Oh, of course. I understand.”
Olivia moved to take his hand, but he pulled back slightly.
“Ah, it is proper etiquette to touch bare skin when shaking hands.”
“It is awkward and burdensome for a maiden of marriageable age to hold a man’s hand.”
“You didn’t touch the food or drink I prepared, and you were half-hearted in your responses to my words. Surely you can grant me this one request to hold your hand?”
It was a threat. A demand to grant this final request before he went to the Emperor to complain about being slighted.
Olivia sensed that she could no longer refuse. Reluctantly, she pulled off her glove and took his hand for a brief shake.
No—it was a long shake. When she tried to pull her hand away, he held on with a surprising grip. For a dying old man, his grasp was incredibly powerful. It hurt enough that she almost screamed.
“Will you not let go now?”
“Haha, I suppose I held on too long. My apologies.”
Only then did Waldemar release her. She gave a light nod and hurried out of the greenhouse.
Before stepping outside, she caught a glimpse of a ceramic pot. Its glaze was so polished it served as a mirror. She could clearly see Grand Duke Waldemar Golt’s face.
His eyes were curved in a lecherous smile, and he was greedily licking the hand that had just held hers.
* * *
Returning to the carriage, Olivia spoke to the escort knight who was about to close the door.
“Give me some perfume.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
It was the rose perfume Olivia frequently used. She uncorked the bottle and poured the entire contents over her right hand. The slick oil ran down her skin and dripped onto the floor. A thick, suffocating scent of roses filled the carriage.
Despite the overwhelming fragrance, she didn't care. She wiped her hand repeatedly with a silk handkerchief embroidered with white thread.
Grand Duke Golt’s face flickered in her mind. That greedy face seemed to overlap with the Great Demon, Morax.
Filthy.
Scrub.
Filthy, filthy.
Scrub, scrub, scrub, scrub.
Filthy, filthy, FILTHY!!!
She wiped and wiped again. Eventually, her jade-white hand turned bright red and began to sting. Could she not just peel this skin off? She wanted to carve away every part of her that had touched Waldemar.
‘Grand Duke Golt…’
The handkerchief in her hand crumpled. Her ability to maintain the mask had reached its limit. Her porcelain facade cracked, distorted by rage.
‘How dare you mention that name?’
Stella Arken.
Her elder sister, eight years her senior, had been the kindest woman she knew. Gifted with both beauty and intellect, she even had a wonderful fiancé she had chosen herself. As a child, Olivia had viewed her as a role model.
But at some point, Stella changed. It began the day her engagement was broken—the day her fiancé was arrested for treason and vanished like dew on the execution grounds.
From then on, the flower that had always been radiant and beautiful began to wither.
In Olivia’s final memory of her, Stella’s hair, once like golden silk, had been cut short.
— Olivia.
A cracked voice.
— Is the scenery of the empire not truly beautiful?
Her body had been precariously perched on the terrace railing. Olivia had spoken to her with a troubled expression.
— Sister, it’s dangerous to be there.
— Fufu, that is why you must step back from me, Olivia. Today, of all days, you must.
— Please come down, Sister.
— Stand there and listen to me. Olivia is a good girl, right?
— Yes, Sister…
She had smiled. There was no warmth in it. Olivia didn't dare act spoiled.
— What is it that flows through our bodies? Stella asked.
— Golden Blood. I heard our blood flows gold.
— Fufu, innocent Olivia. I wish you could keep that innocence forever, but… it is time to wake from the dream.
Stella’s body tilted.
— Please, see it clearly with your own two eyes.
She threw herself off.
Young Olivia thought that perhaps wings had suddenly sprouted from her sister and she had become an angel. But there was no angel. Instead, only her sister’s corpse on the ground filled her vision.
It looked like a single flower blooming. The short-cut yellow hair was the center of the flower. The red petals were blooming outward.
Finally, she had achieved freedom…
Olivia watched the bloom until a servant rushed over to cover her young eyes.
Stella was the worst kind of sister. She had shown her young sibling a cruelty that should never be seen. Yet, it was also her final kindness—revealing the truth and the fate of the Arken bloodline, which was even more cruel.
And through Stella’s favored servant, Olivia eventually learned the secret behind that death.
The cause of that death was Grand Duke Golt. He had long desired the young Stella and wanted to possess her. In his obsession, he had framed Stella’s fiancé and had him brutally executed.
Then, he sent a message: that to obtain her, he would destroy everything she loved.
The one who cooperated with him was the Emperor. Even the 1st and 2nd Princes, blinded by power, had sought to sell their own sister to gain immense influence.
That was the fate of those called the Flowers of the Empire.
Innocence was a luxury an Imperial Princess could not afford.
‘The sister who died because of you.’
With that filthy mouth, how dare he.
How dare he!
She swallowed back the urge to scream in a fit of hysterics. Even if there were no eyes watching now, there were ears listening. The truth behind this mask of innocence must never be discovered by anyone.
‘This is the only weapon I have.’
She would wear the mask every man loved. And by wearing that mask, she would use them as her hands and feet.
‘But that wasn’t enough.’
Using men meant she could never truly escape them. She wanted to spread her wings and be free in the truest sense. To that end, she had found one breakthrough.
‘A Saintess.’
To become a devout follower of Alte and seize a status equal to the Pope. That was the only way to resist this cursed fate of her blood.
The reason she could even harbor such a possibility was that Olivia possessed divine power.
According to public knowledge, she had gained enlightenment while studying the doctrines of Alte, and holiness had settled within her. But as is always the case, history is often gift-wrapped; Olivia’s actual awakening had begun with tragedy.
On the day she witnessed Stella’s death, Olivia felt something rotating deep within her chest. She was too innocent to know what it was then, but as she grew older, she was able to conceptualize it.
A Red Circle was spinning inside her body.
‘To reach the status of a Saintess, one needs at least the Fifth Enlightenment.’
In mage terms, it was only possible upon reaching the 5th Circle. Olivia was currently at the Third Enlightenment. She was at the level of a traveling village preacher, capable of simple healing and light magic.
Since one cannot achieve enlightenment alone, she needed help. The help of the local cult leader was out of the question; that man was still in league with the Emperor. Therefore, she needed the help of the Holy Emperor of the Holy Kingdom of Odograsado.
He was a true saint who had shattered her prejudice that all men were the same. Olivia had sought his advice, and his answer was this:
— To harbor God is not merely to stay within a cathedral. You must feel and accept that He is always watching you, always behind you.
Hearing those words, Olivia thought: There are a truckload of such men around me; were they gods?
Well, in a way. God-awful idiots.
Because such cynical thoughts came first, it was even harder to accept the existence of a god. So, she cautiously requested further guidance.
The Holy Emperor replied:
— It is difficult because you try to simply believe in God. Try to love God, Princess. If you do, you will surely hear His call.
He said that love comes from keeping the commandments. She had even finished her vow of vengeance against her kin and spent years meticulously following the commandments of Alte, but her mana circuit hadn't budged.
The call of God did not come. It was only natural. Such a thing could not be called love.
‘Love…’
What was love? They said it would come if you loved, but she didn't understand the emotion. They said you could feel it in a gaze, but the eyes directed at her always lingered on her chest. Even the man who called himself the leader of the Alte Faith was the same.
Because of those gazes, she was a bit confused whether the saying "love comes from the heart" meant loving the heart or loving the chest.
‘Love is nothing more than a mass of tumors created by lust.’
Every man possessed one of those tumors. Since all that accumulated within her was loathing, she thought she would never know what love was.
But recently, even that thought had been challenged.
‘Ferda Valdrova.’
His image suddenly came to mind. His tall stature, gray hair, and deep, lake-like blue eyes. His cynical expression and his resolute actions.
‘Part of it is because he has power to back him up, but…’
He was a man of action, surrounded by exceptional people, and he possessed great prestige. As the perception grew that the Far East was somewhat safe, young people from within the empire were even leaving to work there. These were not phenomena that could be achieved simply by relying on authority.
‘Above all else…’
His eyes had never once shown lust. At first, she was curious. She wondered how long he could maintain that facade. She had done things that would have made even married men or knights faithful to their vows waver, but his heart remained unmoved.
That made her annoyed. It made her feel like a fool for thinking all men were the same. No, she was a fool. Ferda was currently working hard to make the Far East a second capital. Was she not the only one failing to keep her promise to become a Saintess and be of help?
‘At this rate, how am I any different from those noble girls whose heads are filled with nothing but flowers?’
For Olivia, this was unacceptable. She was just standing still, contributing nothing to him. They were supposed to be allies standing on equal footing, yet he was the one pulling ahead.
‘Men really are all the same.’
In the sense that they always found a way to annoy her, at least. The irritation within her felt like it was poking at her brain.
Seeking a change of pace, she looked out the window. The blue sky and the parched winter earth. While most things failed to catch her eye, a single dot stood out clearly.
“Stop.”
At her command, the carriage came to a halt. Just in case, she stepped out to check again. Perhaps she was mistaken. But looking closely, she realized it was no mistake.
‘That man is…’
It was Ferda Valdrova. The person beside him was likely his maid.
‘Why is he in a place like this?’
Searching the map in her head, she remembered the Rosnova estate was nearby. Had he stopped by his family home and then sat down there?
She took a step toward him, intending to offer a greeting. But she couldn't move any further. The sight of Ferda was far too heavy. He looked powerless, unlike the man who usually kept his back straight and wore a cold expression.
‘A weak appearance…’
Olivia loathed such things. To her, someone revealing their wounds was the same as showing a weakness. In the world of nobility, a weakness was like a piece of meat smelling of blood. Piranha-like nobles would instantly tear into that wound. A person who could not bear the weight of nobility was of no use to her.
“…How pitiful.”
Olivia was startled by her own words. Had she just said he was pitiful? Was she truly feeling sympathy for that man? She wondered if she was mistaken. But instead of a sigh of disdain, her heart began to ache.
‘Why?’
Olivia chewed on the meaning of this unfamiliar emotion. What do I want from that man?
It frightened her, but she did not let go of the sensation. Unconsciously, she placed both hands over her heart. Her gaze remained fixed on him, and she let her emotions lead.
She tasted his sorrow as if licking the tears he might shed. That feeling swelled, and eventually, her two hands overlapping on her chest pressed together.
As if offering a prayer.
‘If I…’
For the first time, Olivia felt it.
‘If I could be that man’s support…’
It was not contempt for his powerlessness, but compassion.
It was then.
“Ah.”
She began to feel a strange sensation within her body. The biggest reason she couldn't become a Saintess—the thing that wouldn't move no matter how much she deceived herself into being a devout believer—was moving.
This was undoubtedly the love for God that the Holy Emperor had spoken of.
She finally realized.
‘Ferda…’
He was the God she had to embrace in her heart.