Following the Duke’s orders, I finished preparations to leave for the capital accompanied only by his aide, Vivi, and Lord Rumie, who served as both estate manager and coachman. It had been nearly two weeks since the Duke’s permission was granted.

Half a day to leave the forest surrounding Manderley Mansion, roughly five days to reach the northern gate from there, and another day to enter the capital’s outskirts and reach the Academy in the center. Excluding the 14 days of round-trip travel, I had barely one day to myself.

The Academy’s graduation ceremony had traditionally been held on the last day of October, one week before the Sacred Day. Even if we departed immediately, our schedule would undoubtedly be tight.

While I waited for the carriage to depart, adjusting cushions, backrest, and the folds of my dress, the carriage door suddenly opened. Lord Rondo, the Duke’s aide with jet-black hair slicked back with pomade and dressed in a dark blue uniform, jumped into the carriage. The red tassel on the longsword at his waist swung roughly with his movement.

“Best not to entertain foolish thoughts.”

The door closed behind him with a thud, and the carriage started with a jolt. Simultaneously came his sarcastic remark, which I had expected from the moment he entered. Since I had anticipated this from the moment he opened the carriage door, his words had no impact. I looked up at his berry-red eyes and spoke.

“You would do well to remember that the capital differs from the North, my lord. Though I’m sure you know that perfectly well.”

“And you would do well not to forget why I’ve accompanied you.”

His words momentarily left me speechless. “You,” he had said.

“What can I do? You dislike ‘lady,’ you dislike ‘madam.’ Since I cannot call you by name, what choice do I have?”

“No, my lord. There’s a fundamental error in your—”

Knock, knock.

Just as I was about to correct the man’s nonsense, someone knocked on the carriage’s small window.

“My lady.”

It was Lord Rumie’s voice.

Knock, knock.

“My lady?”

I swallowed what I had been about to say and turned my head pointedly to look at the man. Then I silently mouthed the words.

‘My lady.’

I conveyed my message: don’t make ridiculous excuses about such a simple term.

“Ha.”

The man, sitting with his arms crossed and legs crossed in a rather insolent posture, let out a mocking laugh. He raised one eyebrow, then abruptly turned his head away. Annoyed by his shamelessness, I too looked away from him and opened the window.

“Ah, my lady.”

“Is there a problem?”

The small carriage window, the knight in silver armor beyond it, the cold northern wind brushing my nose, and the distant barking of a dog.

This unusual combination naturally brought back memories of my first day in the North. I vaguely recalled the moment I boarded the carriage bound for the North, my heart filled with fear, hoping for just a little peace.

The lukewarm heat of the South enveloping my palms, the deep blue sky filled with clouds ready to pour rain at any moment. Voices calling, “Brote.”

But those memories faded beyond the deep blue darkness of dawn with Lord Rumie’s voice.

“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just…”

“Just?”

“It’s snowing…”

He was right. So much so that it seemed strange I hadn’t noticed until now. Under the faint light of dawn, tiny particles carrying the carriage’s yellow glow were falling endlessly.

Though they shared little in common except their white color, somehow the snowflakes dancing in the wind reminded me of the clouds that had filled the southern sky.

“Is this your first time seeing it?”

“……”

“I’ve heard that winters in the South don’t have snow… Is that not true?”

Only after closing and opening my eyes to erase the nostalgia could I answer Lord Rumie’s question. Yes, I said. Winters in the South are without snow. I managed to nod slightly while answering.

Then I saw it.

The man’s face reflected in the window darkened by the dawn’s gloom. Those red eyes staring intently at me.

The red-eyed man who was arrogant, ignorant of etiquette, and never conceded a word.

“Close the window. Unless you want to see her suffering from fever again.”

“Oh. I apologize. I didn’t think that far—”

Clack—

Before Lord Rumie could finish speaking, the man’s hand closed the window. Like the head butler, Lord Rumie also showed obedience to the man’s command.

“You are quite kind.”

“……”

“Unnecessarily so.”

By now, I was curious.

About the true identity of this suspicious man with red eyes like the Duke’s, who made no effort to hide his true self.

* * *

“My lady.”

“……”

“My lady!”

Ah.

Perhaps because we had departed at dawn, we managed to leave the forest surrounding Manderley Mansion just before noon and stopped at a crossroads to rest.

To the left stretched a snow-covered mountain path leading to the Northern Mountains, and to the right lay a pristine white snow path toward the northern gate. I sat on a large rock between them, warming myself with heated wine.

“My lady, are you alright?”

“…Of course.”

“For someone who’s ‘alright’… your hands are too cold. Perhaps you should rest inside the carriage—”

“Vivi.”

I grabbed Vivi’s wrist as she was about to pull me up and let out a small sigh. It was white. My breath, the visible sky, the ground, even the branches swaying in the wind—everything was white. The entire world was so overwhelmingly white that it seemed unbelievable—everywhere I looked was simply, purely white.

‘We’ll restock the carriage here and depart as planned. Don’t even think about going outside. More than you realize—’

‘My lady.’

‘…Northern summers are short, and winters are fierce. Do you understand, my lady?’

It was a sight worth enduring the biting cold for, despite the aide’s warning disguised as advice.

“Then I’ll bring more shawls!”

No sooner had she finished speaking than Vivi jumped up and ran toward the carriage. I drained the remaining wine in my hand. Though the northern cold immediately seized my empty fingertips, it wasn’t as cold as before.

Humans are creatures of adaptation, they say.

The northern cold that had once laid me low was no longer unfamiliar. This path, once filled with fear, pressure, sorrow, and lingering attachments, now felt unremarkable. While I couldn’t say that northern things felt entirely mine or comfortable, the loneliness of standing alone in a strange land no longer plagued me. Someday.

Living like this, perhaps someday I might first think of the head butler rather than my beloved one left behind in the South when hearing the name “Miriam.” Just as I was thinking this—

“Always doing whatever you please.”

The red-eyed aide dropped a thick shawl onto my shoulders. As I grasped the edge of the shawl draped over my shoulders, I placed my hand over his extended one.

“My lord, please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m only asking out of concern for you, so don’t take it to heart. Perhaps as a child, were you considered lacking—”

“Shall we go, my. lady.”

With his eyebrow raised like a northern mountain, seemingly asking “Are you finished?”, the man turned abruptly and strode away. With my hand still in his grip, I had no choice but to match his pace with hurried steps.

At the carriage stood Lord Rumie, who had been tending to the horses and now turned to look our way, and Vivi, who was just descending from the carriage. Walking toward them felt natural. Although “North” still evoked unfamiliarity rather than familiarity, suspicion rather than trust and belief… it was no longer frightening or terrifying.

Truly, no longer.

“Grrrr-…”

And then it happened in the blink of an eye.

The appearance of something strange with human form in the quiet snowfield. Then, it leapt from the ground, landed on the carriage, and fell toward me, baring teeth as long and sharp as Mike’s fangs.

“My lady-!”

“Kyaaaa-!!”

I heard Lord Rumie’s shout, followed by Vivi’s piercing scream. Then a sharp wind brushed my nape. I glimpsed the familiar blue uniform and black hair flying. Then—cold blood, as cold as the snow that had been falling all morning, splattered across both my cheeks.

“Are you alright?”

Clear droplets dripped from the man’s pitch-black hair as he looked back at me. “It,” which had received a deep wound from the man’s sword, twitched a few times on the ground before ceasing to move. Stunned by the situation that had unfolded and ended in an instant, I slowly nodded.

“Thanks to you. My lord, thanks to you.”

“Then… I’m glad.”

Strangely, the warmth felt through our joined hands was reassuring.

“My lady!”

Vivi ran over and examined me all over before wiping away the moisture soaking my cheeks. Meanwhile, Lord Rumie, who had been poking “it” on the ground with his scabbard, let out a groan.

“It’s a ‘Manaha.'”

Manaha? It was an unfamiliar term, so I had to ask.

“Manaha?”

The one who answered was not Lord Rumie but the man.

“‘Manaha.’ A phantom consumed by time. In regions outside the North, they’re also called vampires, man-eaters, or northern demons.”

“Northern demons…”

I had heard of them before. No, to be precise, I had read about them. It was a term written in “the book.”

“But this is strange. Even with the snow… it seems far too early for winter…”

At Lord Rumie’s words, Vivi, who was clinging tightly to my arm, stammered in agreement.

“Y-yes, that’s right.”

“Moreover, this one… its blood is transparent. It’s a creature that hasn’t been awake from hibernation for long. It hasn’t yet consumed human—”

“Shh-“

Lord Rumie, who had been crouching to examine the “Manaha,” seemed about to say more, but the man, who was scanning the surroundings vigilantly, made a gesture for silence.

Crunch, crunch. As everything fell quiet, we could faintly hear something trampling through the snow in the distance. Crunch, crunch, crunch. The sound grew faster, closer, and more distinct.

“Oh?”

And then it changed into an unfamiliar man’s voice.

“Wow… haha, this… your skill is quite impressive.”

“……”

A white mask covering half his face, black uniform spitting out bright red blood, and long ash-gray hair with a bluish tint reminiscent of the “princess.”

The man who slowly emerged from behind the carriage where the Manaha had jumped was someone I knew well.

‘Philip Esmund.’

The only grandson of the Margrave Esmund who guarded the kingdom’s edge bordering the Duke’s territory, and the director of the Investigation Team that handled all manner of unsavory tasks in this country. Simultaneously… he was believed to be the “twin” of Louis Beauvesh, known as the king’s only son.

“Well, well… you’ve handled the task I was supposed to do. I’m not sure how to express my gratitude.”

Philip Esmund glanced down at the “Manaha” on the ground, which was shrinking as it spilled transparent blood, then suddenly raised his head to look in our direction and smiled broadly.