Click. The sound of a blade leaving its sheath rang out as Philip Esmund bowed toward us. His lips, which had been curving into smiles just moments ago beneath the smooth white mask, now froze into a hard line. The snow beneath his movements made an unpleasant crunching sound as it released reddish bl＊＊d.

“My lady. Please step back.”

Following Lord Rumie’s advice, I backed away from them.

Shing— The sound of a sword being drawn filled the air. Then,

“Please don’t resent me. I could have been quite kind to you—”

Clang!

“Ugh.”

Thud. With a short cry, the man, Philip Esmund, collapsed. Behind him stood a small, plump shadow. Pushing back the long hood of his robe, the figure who had appeared without a sound was… Rolf.

“Thank goodness I wasn’t too late!”

The caretaker of Manderley Mansion and Mike’s handler. Rolf was also serving as our coachman on this journey. Only when I noticed the branches filling his left arm did I realize he had left to gather firewood for the night ahead.

With a swift motion, Rolf shook the bl＊＊d from his axe and silently walked over to stand by the fallen Philip Esmund’s head.

“So, who might this fellow be?”

I wasn’t the only one momentarily speechless at his cheerful voice and expression. Lord Rondo and Lord Rumie, still frozen with their hands on their swords, finally relaxed their tense shoulders and released long sighs.

“…He claims to be the director of the Royal Investigation Team.”

“Investigation Team… Ah!”

Hearing Lord Rondo’s words, Rolf tilted his head back with a small gasp after pondering something briefly. I unconsciously followed his gaze upward. The sky was remarkably murky. It seemed almost miraculous that such pure white snow could fall from such a dark gray sky.

“You saw something, didn’t you?”

Lord Rumie’s voice reached my ears. Lowering my head from its tilted position, I could see Rolf shifting his gaze anxiously between me, Lord Rumie, and Lord Rondo.

His demeanor revealed what he had seen. With just a slight lowering of my head, I could see Philip Esmund still lying motionless face down.

“Well… I… that is…”

It wasn’t difficult to imagine men in black uniforms like that man’s, wounded by the merciless swords of their comrades, scattered across the bl＊＊d-stained snow field.

“Philip Esmund,” who hid a face identical to the crown prince’s beneath that white mask, was certainly no good person. He was the one who informed Oscar about the princess’s existence, encouraged Oscar to put on a play at the New Year’s celebration, and gave Brote the mask that allowed her to enter that celebration. It was all him.

‘What’s there to worry about, Father? It’s a good day. When else would we get to see a play at the palace?’

Taking advantage of that commotion—

“My lady!”

Vivi’s voice, coming at just the right moment, shook me from my downward-spiraling thoughts. I blinked slowly, noticing four pairs of eyes fixed on me.

“…Vivi.”

“My lady, are you alright?”

Looking at Vivi, who paced before me, unable to extend her hand while clutching a basket with both hands, I felt the need to assess our situation. The sky was overcast, and the snow that had begun falling showed no signs of stopping, only growing stronger. Truly, if we delayed any longer, we might end up spending the night here with that fallen man.

“Rolf.”

“Yes, my lady!”

“…And my lords.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“……”

Meeting the three pairs of eyes that turned to me, I spoke with natural nonchalance as if nothing had happened.

“I believe we’ve rested enough.”

Everything moved quickly after that. We loaded the gathered firewood onto the carriage, checked the horses’ condition, and placed the basket containing blankets, a small amount of water, and jerky beside Philip Esmund. Without looking back, I boarded the carriage.

Clunk. With a small jolt, I heard the horses neighing. In the lamplight illuminating the interior, the red eyes of the man sitting across from me with his legs crossed flickered like burning embers.

‘If you want respect, you must fulfill your duties.’

‘Ah, right. I forgot one word. Duchess.’

‘What, remembering that lover you left behind?’

Our three previous encounters and today.

‘Let’s go, my lady.’

‘What shall we do?’

‘I agree.’

‘…Because our lady isn’t foolish enough.’

I knew the world wasn’t so simple that I could accept the man’s noticeably changed attitude without suspicion. I knew there was no kindness without reason—especially from someone who had been hostile toward me from the beginning.

Perhaps that’s why I grew curious. About the man’s identity, about what was going through the mind of this man who stared at me silently without blinking those red eyes where flames danced. I grew curious. That’s when it happened.

“…Why did you refuse to let him into the carriage?”

Despite the omitted subject in his question, I immediately knew who he was talking about.

‘Philip Esmund.’

I couldn’t possibly say I didn’t want him aboard because I knew what kind of person he was and judged him dangerous. So I slowly lowered my eyes, avoiding his gaze. I took in the red and yellow flickering of the lamp. Then I asked:

“And what about you?”

“What do you—”

“……”

“…Because he appeared covered in bl＊＊d from head to toe.”

I could see his hands clasped together on his crossed knee.

“Those attacked by Manaha are typically found with only bones remaining. No bl＊＊d, no flesh, nothing can be found. Not on the dead bodies, nor in their surroundings. Yet that man who claimed to be the director of the Royal Investigation Team appeared completely covered in bl＊＊d. Therefore, I judged his claim about losing all his subordinates to those creatures to be false. Moreover—”

The hand that had been extended to me, the warmth that had touched me.

Whether it was poison or benefit, whether it was something I could trust, or merely something I wanted to believe in again—unable to be certain of anything, my mind became turbulent, shapeless like that flickering lamp.

“I don’t know how it is in the abundant South, but in the barren North, it’s common sense not to carelessly allow strangers into one’s carriage.”

“……”

“I trust you understand that kindness bestowed without expecting compensation is dangerous both to the recipient and the giver.”

“…I’ll keep that in mind.”

That was why. Clearly attempting to teach me, I couldn’t counter the man’s words and instead offered a weak, belated agreement.

“…I’m glad you understand.”

When I raised my head, I saw the profile of the man with his arms crossed and his face turned away, his expression distorted, flickering in the lamplight.

In the carriage where conversation had died, only the occasional whoosh of strong wind broke the deep silence, asserting its presence as if demanding not to be forgotten.

Clunk, clunk—

As if trying to make up for lost time, the carriage continued through the snowy darkness without rest until deep night fell.

Five days and nights later, we finally emerged from the seemingly endless snowfield and reached the outskirts of the capital.