Chapter 702: Role

“Role?”

Oliver repeated.

Sleeping Beauty, still kneeling, nodded her head, and Oliver wordlessly gazed down at her for a long time.

As if savoring that word in his thoughts.

The longer he thought, the deeper and more profound the silence that shrouded Sleeping Beauty.

As if it would engulf her the moment she let her guard down.

The eerie yet serene silence watched over Sleeping Beauty, and she, unmoving, waited patiently for Oliver’s response.

It felt like ages might pass in this manner, but fortunately, Oliver finally spoke.

“You’re still speaking in riddles.”

“I’m sorry. That’s my role.”

Sleeping Beauty apologized sincerely.

Though Oliver saw the genuineness, it didn’t stir any strong feelings in him. It was just irritating.

“Fine. Let’s assume it’s your role—to predict the end and utter mysterious words. Let’s say that’s your role. But now I’m curious.”

“…”

“Who told you about this role? Who made you so devoted to it?”

A pointed and sharp question.

Surprisingly, the question was delivered in a calm voice devoid of magic or emotion, yet Sleeping Beauty felt a chill like a razor touching her skin.

Not just a feeling—it was real. But, after centuries spent alone, the maiden calmly answered.

“No one told me. I realized it myself.”

“Now you’re saying—”

“—No one tells the rain to nurture plants; no one instructs plants to feed herbivores, or herbivores to sustain carnivores. It’s simply the way of life.”

“…When did you begin to believe you had such a role?”

“Since I became aware of my prophetic dreams.”

Sleeping Beauty answered promptly, a sign that it was a thought she had harbored for a very long time.

“Because it’s an extraordinary power. The mere act of sleeping reveals the future to me. It’s a power unique to me… So I’ve long believed that either God or He must have given me a role. Something great and glorious.”

As she spoke, her expression changed briefly but swiftly—nostalgic longing, awe, followed by crushing regret and pain.

It was like a summary of her entire life. Then suddenly, as if realizing something, she wore a sorrowful yet resigned expression.

“I was foolish. Blinded by the glory, I failed to consider the weight that glory carried.”

“When did you realize that? Shall I guess? Around the time the Pied Piper appeared?”

Oliver spoke with unerring insight, and Sleeping Beauty nodded in confirmation.

“Yes, it was around the time negative rumors about Him began to spread that I realized what He would become, and what my role involved.”

“You speak as though it’s someone else’s problem, Princess. Yet your own father had a hand in it.”

Oliver, who had seen the Pied Piper’s past, responded.

Her father had also been part of the malice that crushed the Pied Piper and his son.

A devious king who spread slanderous rumors about a foreigner to make his politics more manageable.

Sleeping Beauty did not deny it.

“Yes, that’s true. We too have committed sins.”

“And so, you did nothing?”

Oliver asked. The reason she had done nothing despite knowing about the Pied Piper’s rise and its looming calamity.

Sleeping Beauty neither told anyone about the Pied Piper’s birth, nor did she flee. She offered no prophecies to comfort the restless citizens.

As a result, she was offered as a sacrifice, condemned to an existence neither fully alive nor dead for centuries.

Quite a passive, foolish reaction for someone who could see the future.

The princess responded.

“No, I didn’t remain passive out of guilt or duty.”

It was her honest truth.

“I stayed still because I knew it would be pointless. Whether I fled, warned others of the calamity, or tried to console them—In the end, fate assured this outcome, and I knew it.”

“Did you accept that role?”

Oliver asked, genuinely curious.

Sleeping Beauty shook her head.

“It was closer to resignation. In the face of such immense fate, there was nothing I could do, so I simply did nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like you’ve given up.”

“I’ve found a new goal, as you know.”

The princess spoke, and it was the truth.

Oliver understood why she was acting like this—whether it was for her own peace or to free the hundreds of thousands of citizens trapped in this cursed forest.

It seemed contradictory, but it was true. Once, she had resented those who had betrayed her, but countless years had allowed her to reach a deeper understanding.

And so, the princess now acted for that reason.

The only being who could lift the curse over this forest, a curse forged through the lives of thirteen witches and a kingdom, was the Prince of Hell mentioned in the apocalyptic prophecy—or so she claimed.

“…Something seems off.”

Suddenly, a realization dawned on Oliver.

At first, he had dismissed it, overwhelmed by emotion, but looking back, something felt irregular.

“Isn’t the one who can fulfill your wish more suited to be the Son of the Angel, rather than the Prince of Hell?”

Sssshhh…

It felt as if a cold wind had swept into the sealed castle.

Perhaps the castle was simply old, but it seemed as though the cracks were multiplying—just like Oliver’s suspicions.

“The more I think about it, the stranger it seems. Didn’t you once say that the Prince of Hell might not necessarily bring about the world’s end?”

“Yes, it’s true. He will open the gates of Hell, but there is no definitive mention of the world ending.”

“You speak as though you’ve heard it from someone else.”

“It’s similar. Though I am the one prophesizing, I am just a human who dreams and repeats what I see. Perhaps, I am the one who knows the least.”

“That’s quite a convenient way of framing things. The core elements of an apocalypse are destruction and salvation, and here you just casually throw the Prince of Hell and the Son of the Angel into one big melting pot… I don’t even know what my own role is at this point.”

“Honored one, I never asked for this role. I may have once hoped for it, but I never sought it out.”

A faint crack appeared in the princess’s usually serene expression for the first time.

It felt like a long-buried truth was finally surfacing from deep inside.

Even Oliver, who had been harsh with her, hesitated for a moment.

It wasn’t sympathy for her. Rather, it was a strange sense of familiarity.

Sensing this, the princess quickly regained her composure and apologized.

“Forgive me. I must’ve overstepped.”

Oliver neither accepted her apology nor offered one in return. Instead, he asked:

“Who is the Son of the Angel?”

Perhaps the one thing Oliver should have been most curious about, but paradoxically wasn’t at all interested in, took center stage.

A being destined to offer salvation, sacrificing itself to protect humanity from evil when the Prince of Hell opened the gates of the Underworld.

For the first time, Oliver spoke of that being he had never cared about.

There was even a person who vaguely reminded him of that figure—though she was a woman, not a man.

“That is something I cannot answer. I don’t even truly know myself. Even if I did, it’s not my place to reveal such things. Even the Archive once asked me about it, but I couldn’t answer him either.”

The old Archive. Merlin flashed in Oliver’s mind.

“But I can tell you one thing—the Prince of Hell exists, and so does the Son of the Angel. They are like two sides of the same coin; opposites yet inseparable.”

“I have no idea what your role is, but it seems your role is to annoy me.”

“You may not be wrong.”

“…What?”

“I was given the role of guiding you forward. Often, those who feel frustration are the ones who move.”

“Does that mean you’ve been waiting here for hundreds of years, just to annoy me?”

“I don’t know about annoyance, but I’ve certainly been waiting for years along with the kingdom’s people. At least, that’s the conclusion I’ve reached.”

Enduring centuries of hardship for a being that would appear hundreds of years later…

“…Weren’t you resentful?”

“Why would I be?”

“I think I would’ve been resentful. Isn’t that just natural?”

“…Haha.”

Suddenly, the princess let out a quiet laugh.

“Ah, forgive me. It was amusing to hear you say such things. I meant no harm.”

Oliver could sense that she was sincere. Even he found it a bit strange.

He wasn’t usually the type to say something like that. Maybe it was because there had been a time when he avoided facing himself.

At that moment, Sleeping Beauty murmured.

“Resentment… It would be a lie to say I never felt it.”

“And no longer?”

“It’s hard to hold resentment against someone like you—someone bearing the most unreasonable fate… tasked with harvesting what others have sown.”

Sleeping Beauty said that she wasn’t the only one with this tragic fate. There were others.

Who else? Surprisingly, several figures crossed Oliver’s mind. If that were true, it was truly disturbing.

“…If I were to reject that fate and stay here for eternity, what would you do, Princess?”

“I would do nothing. I lack the means or justification to force you to act. However…”

The princess, for the first time, hesitated to finish her sentence, waiting for Oliver’s permission.

“Please, go ahead.”

“…I don’t think you would have come here in the first place if you truly wished to remain still.”

The princess said it plainly: Oliver had already started moving. He could say nothing in reply—because she was right.

When the Woman on the Camel had attempted to destroy the Holy Capital, Oliver had acted, leading him to this very moment.

Seeing Kevin and Joanna, had he simply been unable to stay still? He wasn’t sure. It was a mystery.

“If you ever need a place to rest, I can offer it. At least the bed is comfortable.”

Oliver sat silently on the bed, as if accepting that offer.

“…Where is Marie right now?”

“She’s in hiding in Z-District, with help from the Anti-Development Committee.”

“That’s a bit unexpected.”

“Someone is helping her.”

“Will Marie be captured?”

“At this rate, yes. Though she has many allies, the situation is dire.”

“Are there other Dark Sorcerers besides the Black Hand who seek Marie?”

“Yes.”

Oliver continued asking questions, as though delaying the inevitable decision. Pointless questions whose answers were obvious.

For instance, about the actions of Dark Sorcerers after the Holy Power disappeared or what would happen to the Pater Church.

Sleeping Beauty patiently answered each question in detail, based on the foresight she had gained through dreams.

One by one, Oliver’s trivial questions subsided, until finally, the one he feared to ask emerged.

“You once told me something. That I would be tested by rage, by sorrow, and lastly, by love.”

“Yes, I did.”

“I believe I’ve already been tested by rage and sorrow.”

Oliver recalled the Pied Piper and Rosburn.

Sleeping Beauty remained silent, signaling her agreement.

“Who will test me with love?”

“You will find out when you go to the place you both want to go and dread.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

“That’s why it’s called a test.”

The princess, who had waited centuries, offered her counsel.

Oliver, contemplating her advice, rose from the bed and extended his hand toward Sleeping Beauty.

“Will you help me?”

“In any way I can.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Sleeping Beauty answered.

Moments later, with a brilliant light, the Sleeping Forest vanished.