Chapter 735: Resolution (3)
“Dave…!!”
Following Al’s guidance, Oliver entered the office located at the back of the restaurant. There, he saw Mari and Forest, who had been conversing with serious expressions, leap to their feet and call out to him.
Their faces were painted with shock, as though they’d just seen a ghost. Not out of fear but sheer surprise.
And no wonder—they had just witnessed Oliver expose the kingdom’s dark secrets, liberate Landa, and defeat the Puppet that had attacked the Tower of Magic, all in a single day. And then he had vanished… only to suddenly reappear before them now.
Forest and Mari looked at Oliver, visibly astonished by his abrupt disappearance and equally sudden return.
“Forest. Mari. Hello to you both.”
Oliver greeted them calmly, waving his hand casually as if unaware of the surprise his arrival had caused.
“Ah… you… ah…”
Forest, struggling to find the words, finally sighed, and Mari silently studied Oliver, her gaze scanning him anxiously.
Worry crept into her eyes, checking for any injuries. Relieved to find none, she looked at him with a blend of relief and apprehension.
It was only natural for her to feel that way.
She had recently witnessed Oliver’s turmoil and anger firsthand.
Oliver had been pained by the realization of his true identity as the Prince of Hell, denying his own existence and railing against the injustice of his fate.
“How is this fair?” he had said. “I didn’t choose to be born this way.”
Mari had resonated deeply with his words. They were undeniably true.
Just as no one deserves scorn for being born into poverty, it wasn’t right to impose an unjust burden on someone merely because of noble birth.
Yet, despite understanding that, Mari had denied the truth, treating Oliver in a way that he despised, purely for her own satisfaction.
During their last conversation, Mari had come to realize just how irresponsible her actions had been, which was why she now couldn’t bring herself to look him directly in the eye.
If only things could stay this way…
Thud.
As Mari lowered her head with eyes closed, feeling lost, she felt an awkward yet gentle hand on her shoulder.
Startled, she looked up, meeting Oliver’s gaze.
She thought she was mistaken, but it seemed as though he was trying to smile.
“Would you mind waiting a moment? I have something to discuss with Forest first.”
“…”
“I would appreciate an answer.”
“Yes…”
Mari replied as though in a daze.
Oliver then turned his attention to Forest.
“Looks like I’m not too late, after all.”
“What?”
“For doing good deeds. Judging by the look outside, it doesn’t seem too late.”
“Ah…”
Forest uttered a sound of understanding, recalling a past conversation he had with Oliver before Oliver attacked the Kingdom’s troops stationed at City Hall.
Forest had said, “All those lessons about living righteously… I used to think it was impractical, but now that I’m older, I think I understand it a little more. I wish I had lived a bit kinder… Do you think it’s too late?”
Though he genuinely liked Oliver, he had felt both guilt and self-loathing, ashamed that it had taken him this long to realize the importance of living a virtuous life. Not for the sake of others, but for his own peace of mind… though he feared it was too late.
Forest shook his head.
“It wasn’t my idea; it was Al’s. It has nothing to do with me.”
“But you allowed it, Forest. Without your permission, none of this would have been possible. You were the one who hired Al and entrusted him with managing the restaurant.”
“…Did something happen?”
Forest noticed a change in Oliver’s demeanor—he seemed far more composed.
Oliver shrugged.
“A little… Would you do me a favor?”
“Go on.”
“Could you go to Room 444 at the Cross King Hotel and take care of Mr. Kent’s body?”
“Kent…?”
“Yes, his body remains preserved and intact. I thought about handling it myself, but that seemed selfish. After much thought, it seemed more appropriate for you and the Poor Brothers to arrange a proper burial for him.”
Forest staggered for a moment.
In a way, such actions were unconventional.
After all, brokers connected violence and death. Their lives were naturally entwined with death, not just their own but that of those around them.
So to show weakness over someone’s death seemed unprofessional, even immoral.
Yet despite knowing this, Forest couldn’t hide his shock.
Because Kent had been more than just a broker—he was a friend. A friend who had come back into his life after decades of separation, a friend with whom he had reconciled. And now, that friend was gone.
“He died because of me. Though he insisted it wasn’t my fault.”
Oliver’s words broke through Forest’s shock.
Forest remained silent.
“You may resent me—”
“I don’t resent you… Not at all. And he wouldn’t want that, either. Not ever.”
Forest took a moment to collect his thoughts.
“Would you excuse me?”
“Yes, please.”
With permission granted, Forest grabbed his coat and moved past Oliver, making his way out of the office.
As Forest walked by, Oliver gently stopped him.
“They’re likely to be confused and saddened… the Poor Brothers that Mr. Kent looked after.”
“…”
“Just a thought.”
Oliver looked Forest in the face as he spoke, and after a moment’s contemplation, Forest nodded.
Forest left the office, leaving Oliver and Mari alone together.
“Would you like a drink?”
Oliver picked up a bottle from the desk and poured a glass into a crystal goblet.
Instead of answering, Mari brought up something else, as if already aware of what was on her mind.
“Oliver… will you prevent the apocalypse?”
“The drink is quite good.”
“Are you planning to defy your fate?”
“Do you want me to follow my fate, Mari?”
“I want you to run from it!”
Mari shouted without realizing, revealing what she hoped for.
Though there was a time she considered Oliver to be a god, and perhaps she still did, Mari couldn’t ignore the contradiction in herself—she wanted Oliver to escape his fate.
When he had come to Wineham to save them, she had understood how selfish her demands had been.
Even though Oliver had been enjoying a peaceful life in Landa, he had endured great hardships to come and save those who worshiped him as a god.
And even after arriving in Landa, she had seen how much he suffered each time he uncovered more about his fate.
During that time, a demon had even appeared before her.
A woman on a camel, appearing through shadows.
She had revealed to Mari the unfair and painful nature of Oliver’s fate, a fate as the Prince of Hell that no god, angel, or adult could withstand. It was, as Iwan had said, truly unjust, illogical, and painful.
Therefore, Mari now wished for Oliver to run.
She had seen his pain. She wanted him to be free of that suffering, even if it meant the world would end. That’s why she had maintained her distance from the dark sorcerers of the Black Hand, considering them as an option to be used if necessary.
“Are you not concerned for them? Those who have learned under you.”
“...Those who choose their paths will likely agree with me.”
“I am not asking about their thoughts, but your thoughts about them.”
“…”
“Did the time spent with them mean nothing to you?”
Oliver looked at Mari intently, as though seeing not only her but the sins she carried.
To spread the beliefs she’d crafted, she had persuaded, intimidated, and compelled people, but she had also helped those in need.
The orphans, single mothers, the sick, the elderly. Those whom she helped followed her teachings sincerely.
“It was a life marked by sin, just as you said… I used you for my own satisfaction, consumed you without a second thought.”
“I forgive you.”
Oliver said this without a hint of hesitation.
Mari stammered, at a loss for words.
“And… for my own vanity and pride, I shunned those who didn’t follow my teachings, manipulated them, and forced submission… I am a sinner. I used you as a tool, only to prove my own importance…”
“Mari.”
As Mari was confessing her sins, on the verge of collapse, Oliver gently called her name.
Her tear-filled eyes and strained face softened at his voice.
With those eyes and face, Mari looked at Oliver, who met her gaze and asked quietly:
“Do you love me?”
He was asking if she loved him.
For a moment, Mari froze, unable to answer.
It was as if her worst, most hidden sin had been discovered.
As Mari stood there speechless, Oliver removed the leather mask he was wearing, revealing his true face.
It was still the face of a boy, not yet fully grown, yet strangely, it held an unexplainable depth.
A depth that only grows stronger, not weaker, through countless storms...
“Ah…”
Seeing his bare face, Mari instinctively took a step back as though she were a sinner.
Oliver, meanwhile, stepped toward her and spread his arms to embrace her.
Gently…
Mari, who had been frozen, felt her body soften.
“Thank you, Mari… Thank you for loving me, for giving me so much love beyond my worth.”
At Oliver’s whisper, Mari’s tensed body relaxed.
“But… because of that, I don’t want you to love only me. I hope you can love others, too. Those who risked their lives to protect you, those who loved you… I hope you find joy with them.”
Mari’s round eyes welled up, a single tear sliding down her cheek.
Feeling something stir within, she drew back from Oliver’s embrace, summoning all her remaining courage to reveal her desire.
“I… I just want you to be happy. I want you to be free of pain. A demon told me this… the woman on the camel.”
“What did she say?”
“She said, whether you follow or defy your fate, there is only pain. Just getting close to that fate would bring you unbearable suffering. I don’t want you to endure that.”
Mari pleaded tearfully.
Oliver gazed at her quietly, then finally spoke.
“My fate is indeed painful. But it no longer hurts, because I’ve chosen to accept it.”
“…”
“I love you, Mari… Or at least, I will try to.”
He took her hands gently and helped her to her feet.
“Would you help me? Help me to love all of you.”
...
After his conversation with Mari...
Oliver asked Al for a good bottle of alcohol and some supplies, then stepped outside Forest’s restaurant.
In that state, he headed to X-District, where he met up with Jo from the Fighter Crew and Captain Hook, who was currently staying with them, engaging in a brief exchange.
Afterward, he visited the Development Opposition Committee in Z-District to meet with someone.
“Mr. Bartholomew.”
“…”
After a meaningful conversation there, Oliver made his way back to X-District and visited an abandoned building untouched by the redevelopment efforts.
The location was an old, fenced-off hospital. Oliver entered through a small side door in the fence, heading down through a large door beside a storage room into the basement.
The basement welcomed him with darkness, and as he moved further in, the stench of rotting bodies and the sight of skeletons, half-decayed corpses, and maggots greeted him.
Ignoring these, Oliver pressed forward and turned down a right-hand corridor.
Following the path led him to a large room.
Despite the time that had passed, the room remained filled with piles of corpses.
Among the bodies sat a corpse with one arm missing, slumped against an altar.
“It’s been a while, Master.”
Oliver greeted the one-armed corpse and set down the bottle and food he’d brought in front of it.
Pouring the alcohol into a cup and arranging the food carefully on a plate, he displayed meticulous respect.
Then Oliver sat across from the corpse, taking a book from his pocket.
It was a book on demons he had once taken interest in but had abandoned reading at some point.
This particular tome was given to him by Edith, and as Oliver opened it, he found that while initially more blank space than text had filled its pages, now the text had multiplied.
He had absorbed the contents of another demonic book, which had filled this one.
As he began to read through the descriptions of demons…
Flip. Flip. Flip.
The text detailed information about various demons, and with each word, he felt a sharp headache and an ache in his eyes.
His vision began to dim.
But Oliver continued to read, even as his sight darkened further. Gradually, the letters on the page shifted and rearranged.
It was as if each character possessed its own will, swirling and dancing.
The reformed characters formed a singular symbol, which then rose from the page, shaping into a distinct figure.
Tap.
At that moment, Oliver closed the book and looked ahead.
In the spot where the symbol had floated, something now stood.
A small horse made of decayed flesh and skulls, with an old man atop it, his hair and beard formed of entrails. The old man’s skeletal structure seemed to have been made using Joseph’s corpse.
Lowering his gaze, Oliver saw that the food and drink he had set out before Joseph had vanished, as if someone had consumed it.
Confirming this, Oliver lifted his eyes once more and looked at the old man on the skeletal horse.
“Greetings.”