The moon was shining brightly that night.

It was just after midnight.

The silence of the Snowdon Count’s country house was suddenly shattered by a gunshot.

Still half-asleep, Kyla rubbed her eyes and sat up. She was sure the loud noise had come from downstairs. At first, she thought it might have been thunder, but when she looked out of the window, she could see no rain.

She reached towards the call bell to wake a maid, then paused.

She had turned fourteen. She was no longer a child.

Surely she could handle going downstairs to take a quick look on her own?

Why hadn’t she realized it then?

No matter how restless she felt, she should never have been so foolish as to get out of bed in the middle of the night.

If only she had pulled the blanket over her head and tried to fall asleep again!

Or if she had never walked towards the study and stepped into its suffocating darkness, which seemed to hide monsters within, guided only by the trembling light of a candle.

Then everything might have been different.

Then she would never have found her father lying motionless on the carpet, surrounded by a pool of bright red blood.

She would never have had to see him like that: his body collapsed, a hole torn through his temple, bone fragments and brain matter scattered around him.

***

On that chilly autumn morning, red leaves drifted down one by one, as though heralding the arrival of winter.

Standing beside the butler, Kyla watched a four-wheeled carriage drawn by two black horses enter the inner courtyard of the Snowdon estate.

Staring at the horses, Kyla bit her trembling lip.

“Kyla.”

The middle-aged man who stepped down from the carriage called her name in a low voice.

“Hello, Uncle Andrew.”

Kyla looked up at the gentleman, forcing a smile.

“Yes. Have you been well?”

“And you? Have you been doing well too?”

Andrew Feilding.
He had traveled a long distance from Ashton to take her away.

“So that’s all the luggage you have.”

Andrew’s gaze fell on the three trunks placed beside Kyla.

“Ah… yes. They said I’ve grown too quickly, so none of the clothes I wore last year fit anymore. There wasn’t much for me to bring.”

Kyla lowered her gaze and fidgeted with her clasped hands.

What she said was true. Although she had not yet turned fifteen, she had grown tall enough to almost touch Andrew’s eyebrows.

However, Andrew could tell that there was more to it than simply outgrowing her clothes.

When her father, Lawrence Snowdon, went bankrupt, most of the household servants were dismissed, and everything that could be sold had probably been sold.

Andrew looked quietly at the young girl standing before him. She wore a black dress that revealed her ankles and a black hat, doing her best to hold back her tears.

Her hair was a deep chestnut brown.

Her pale face still carried the softness of childhood.

Her eyes were the color of the autumn sky, so vivid that they made his chest ache.

She looked exactly like her mother, Stella.

Beautiful Stella.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see her smiling face. The memory lingered so vividly that Andrew could not help resenting Lawrence.

If she had asked him for help when she first fell ill with tuberculosis, she might not have died so young without receiving proper treatment.

And if Lawrence had not surrendered to despair and written even a single letter asking for help, his young daughter would not have had to wear an expression that seemed ready to stand alone against every misfortune the world could throw at her.

While the coachman loaded the luggage onto the carriage, Kyla said her final farewell to the butler. Then she climbed into the carriage without once looking back.

Andrew had a feeling she would never return to the place where she had been born and raised.

The Snowdon estate and its lands, along with its overwhelming debts, would likely be passed on to one of Lawrence’s distant relatives or the creditors.

For Kyla, Snowdon was now nothing more than a place filled with painful memories of her mother and father’s deaths. In a way, it was perhaps better for her to leave it behind.

As soon as Andrew sat down opposite Kyla, the carriage began to move.

Sitting inside the rattling carriage, Kyla pressed her lips together tightly as she gazed out of the window.

The powerful rhythm of the horses’ hooves stirred up memories she wished to forget, lingering at the back of her mind.

To drive them away, she focused only on the passing scenery outside.

“If you’re tired, you should get some sleep. Ashton is quite far.”

At Andrew’s words, Kyla met his gaze and forced a smile.

“Thank you, Uncle. But I’m not tired.”

“Kyla, would you try calling me Father instead of Uncle? It won’t be easy at first, but once you get used to a form of address, it becomes much harder to change later.”

Kyla nodded slowly.

She had first met Andrew Feilding at her father’s funeral.

Although he wasn’t a nobleman, his silk hat and fine clothing made it clear that he was very wealthy. He introduced himself as one of her father’s old friends.

When he offered to adopt her, however, she accepted quickly — not because of his wealth, nor because his smile seemed kind.

It was because becoming this man’s daughter — who had stood through the entire funeral with reddened eyes and a sorrowful expression — felt far better than being sent to an orphanage.

“Yes, I… I’ll do that.”

She knew she was supposed to call Uncle Andrew ‘Father’. However, whenever she tried to say it, her throat tightened and she was unable to utter the word.

“Good. Thank you. Since we’re becoming a new family, we’ll all need time to adjust to each other.”

“Are there… other family members?”

“Of course. I have a wife, and one son. So that means you’ll have a mother and an older brother.”

“A mother and an older brother…”

The idea of having a different mother to the one who had passed away felt strange.

Having an older brother was also difficult to imagine, as she had never had siblings before.

“What… is my brother like?”

“Well, he’s eighteen, so he’s four years older than you. He has only just started university. He’s studying at the University of Portsmouth and is currently living in university accommodation. I think he’ll be very happy to learn that he has a younger sister.”

Andrew looked proud as he spoke about his son.

Kyla tried to picture what an eighteen-year-old brother who was already a university student would be like.

Eighteen.

‘That boy must have been around the same age…’

As the memory of that day resurfaced, Kyla found her brows tightening involuntarily.

The steady rhythm of the horses’ hooves beside the carriage brought back every memory she had tried so hard to bury, along with the face of that boy.

A black horse.

The pounding of hooves.

The polo field.

And that boy.

He had been standing in front of the stables at the polo field, his face rigid with tension.

Kyla had never forgotten the day she met him. Whenever she saw a black horse, a boy around that age or heard the sharp, restless whinny of a horse, her mind was pulled back to that moment.

***

It was an unusually bright day, with a cool breeze blowing through the air.

Kyla had gone with her parents to Ascot to watch a polo match. She loved horses, whether riding them or simply watching them, so attending polo matches was one of her favorite activities.

Among the eight magnificent horses on the field, one stood out more than all the others. It was ridden by a player whose black hair could be seen peeking out slightly from beneath his cap.

The horse itself was glossy black, with a white stripe running from just in front of its ears down the bridge of its nose. Its long, powerful legs struck the ground with breathtaking strength and grace.

The thunder of its hooves made the earth tremble beneath them as it galloped, and Kyla’s young heart beat just as fast.

Perhaps the horse had been running too fast, though.

Or maybe the rider’s attack had seemed too threatening.

A player from the opposing team swung his polo stick hard to hit the ball, but instead hit the black horse’s leg.

A dull, heavy sound rang out.

The horse collapsed.

The rider was thrown from the saddle and rolled across the grass.

Kyla jumped to her feet in shock as the crowd’s murmur grew louder around her.

The fallen rider got up again soon after, but the horse struggled to its feet.

The match was halted, and the black horse was eventually lifted onto a cart and taken off the field.

“Father, the horse will be all right, won’t it? The rider who fell didn’t seem hurt, so the horse can’t be badly injured either, can it?”

Her voice trembled as she spoke.

“I hope it isn’t badly hurt, but I can’t say for certain.”

“Kyla, you don’t have to worry so much,” her mother said gently, stroking her head as Kyla stood there anxiously. “There are doctors who take care of the horses too. I’m sure they’ll treat it well.”

However, Kyla knew that she wouldn’t be able to calm down until she saw the injured horse get up again.

If she asked to see it, though, her father would certainly refuse.

So, she told her parents she needed to use the toilet and slipped away from the stands quietly. After asking a member of staff for directions, she hurried towards the stables.

Around ten people had gathered in front of them.

Through the gaps in the crowd, she could just make out a black horse lying motionless on a cart.

Just as she stepped closer, trying to see it more clearly—

“Little miss, you’d better not go any farther.”

Standing in front of her was a tall young man wearing a polo player’s uniform. His clothes were filthy and covered in dirt.

His jet-black hair, damp with sweat, fell slightly over his forehead. Beneath his thick eyebrows were a pair of beautiful, sharp-looking eyes.

“I’m not a little kid.”

She replied firmly to his words.

A little kid? It was the first time she had ever heard such a thing, despite not being small even compared to grown women.

Yet, when she compared herself to the man standing before her, she realized that ‘little’ might not have been entirely inaccurate.

“Is that so?”

The corner of his mouth curled into a cold smile.

On closer inspection, his face looked more boyish than masculine.

She would bet the piano sheet music her father gave her for her birthday that he was not yet seventeen.

“Fine. Then not a little kid—just a young lady. Either way, if you’re trying to get close to that horse, stop.”

“I’m not trying to interfere. I just… wanted to ask if the horse is all right.”

“That’s my horse.”

At those words, Kyla startled and looked up at the boy’s face.

Now she understood why his expression had been so grim—it was because of the horse.

“That horse has a broken leg. The bone’s shattered to pieces. You know what that means, right?”

His face remained expressionless, but the way he chewed through each word made it clear that he was furious.

The bone was shattered.

The thought was horrifying. Kyla found herself frowning without realizing it.

How much pain must the horse be in? The boy who owned the horse must be in pain, too. That must be why he was so angry.

But what did he mean when he said the broken leg was significant?

“That means… it won’t be able to play polo anymore…?”

She spoke hesitantly, watching his reaction. But the boy just stared at her, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“You really don’t know anything, do you? When a horse breaks its leg, it can’t survive. It suffers unbearable pain and eventually dies.”

“Dies…?”

She could not understand.

The horse had only broken its leg. Why did that mean it had to be killed?

Maybe the boy was lying just to scare her.

Unable to believe it, she tiptoed up to try and see if the horse was being treated, but the boy stepped in front of her, blocking her view.

“Don’t look.”

“What?”

“I said don’t look.”

Just moments ago, that horse had been galloping powerfully across the grass.

She hated the boy for speaking so casually about its death simply because its leg was broken.

And wasn’t it his horse?

“I won’t. Why are you ordering me around like that?”

She spoke sharply and tried to pass him to get closer to the horse.

Suddenly, however, he grabbed her arm.

Startled, Kyla looked up at him, but he covered her eyes with his hand.

His grip was so strong that she could not move at all.

Just as she was about to shout and ask him what he thought he was doing, there was a deafening gunshot, loud enough to tear through her eardrums.