Her lover lay fast asleep.

In the quiet room, only the flames crackling in the fireplace flickered red. Outside, a blizzard raged, but the arms of the man Rosalie nestled against were utterly cozy.

No one could know how much resolve it took to shake off that coziness and rise. After staring at his peaceful face for a long while, she carefully sat up.

The lamp lit in the hallway illuminated her body, still bearing traces of the night before.

Goosebumps rose on her bare skin. Like someone who’d lost their way, Rosalie stood in the middle of the hallway and quietly looked down at herself. The white gemstone gleaming on her left ring finger still felt unreal.

Last night, Siegfried had proposed to her.

And she had accepted.

So she should bury everything she couldn’t bring herself to tell him in the past, and just as he’d once said, live peacefully in this small village—like a girl who suits a white dress and the boy who’d harbored a one-sided love for her finally having their wish come true. That decision had been made mere hours ago.

But the past ultimately cast its shadow over their future.

It felt like the massive hand of fate had yanked Rosalie from where she stood and suddenly flung her somewhere strange.

Biting her lip and glaring at the ring, she returned to the room where her lover slept peacefully. Warmth filled the bedroom, but once her body had turned cold, it wouldn’t warm up easily.

It didn’t matter anyway since she couldn’t feel the cold. She kept her eyes fixed on the beautiful face half-hidden by golden hair and quickly gathered her clothes. Not the splendid outfit her fiancé had given her, but the dreary clothes she’d worn since first starting work as a maid.

She mocked Rosalie Rowen for hoping good days might return to her life. You can’t change your life like changing clothes. She’d never once been truthful with Siegfried in this house, not even once.

And yet she’d dared to dream of a rosy future…

Yes, it was that man’s fault, lying there oblivious to everything.

The man who’d awakened love in Rosalie’s heart once more still remained in his dreams. Ah, he knew nothing of suspicion. By deceiving her lover once and betraying him a second time, she was trampling his heart. Guilt and pity pressed down on her chest.

Tomorrow morning he would wake alone in a cold bed.

Never knowing why the woman who’d promised him a future had left.

Rosalie’s fragile heart agreed, crying out that she didn’t have to leave, that there must be another way. It also asked if she was truly fine never seeing him again.

But her heart’s longing for love lost to cowardice. If she stayed here, she’d have to tell him the truth.

She turned away coldly.

To save him, she had to leave now.

When she stepped back into the hallway, the cats swarmed around her this time. The creatures were both flustered by her sudden behavior and curious about it.

If one started meowing, they’d all start and might wake Siegfried, so she quickly went to another room and fetched a cat toy. It was a small but intricately crafted lyre that produced quite beautiful sounds.

When she plucked a string once, the cats’ tails fluttered.

Holding the lyre, she led them to the study. They followed her with sparkling eyes. When she finally managed to leave them there and came out, she discovered one still outside.

“……”

Had she called the name of that young cat with only four white paws?

Had she spoken even one kind word to the creature that followed her with mournful eyes?

If she had, would that pitiful thing have held onto its master’s footsteps in the end…?

Rosalie crossed the hallway with quick steps and descended the stairs, muffling her footfalls. The mansion was old, but traces of her touch remained here and there.

If she’d known she would leave like this, she shouldn’t have decorated it so earnestly.

No, that wasn’t right. This house wasn’t hers but Siegfried’s, so making it comfortable for him had been the right thing to do.

She gave the cat one last long kiss on its forehead before setting it down. Unlike usual, the cat didn’t meow or try to follow her out.

The moment she stepped outside, a fierce blizzard struck her face.

At least her frozen tears were a blessing. Though she’d only walked a few steps, Rosalie’s hair and shoulders were already soaked with snow. Trudging through snow that sank to her ankles, she couldn’t help but recall the day she first came to this house.

* * *

Back then, it could still be called late summer.

Green still remained on the reeds by the riverbank and on the zelkova trees with branches drooping heavily along the roadside. In that season, Rosalie had come to Roliraine alone in a shabby carriage, without a single letter of introduction.

Her predecessor had been the mansion’s only maid. That woman with the surname ‘Zellen’ was endlessly unkind and didn’t even properly hand over her duties.

Rosalie took over the shoddy ledgers and dust-covered kitchen without complaint. Even that seemed to displease Mrs. Zellen, who spewed insults instead of greetings, saying a dreary person had come to match this dreary house.

Listening silently, Rosalie soon realized the insults concerned the person who would become her master.

Just as there was only one maid, only one person lived in the mansion. She’d heard abundant rumors about him before coming to the village, so she had no desire to hear stories from Mrs. Zellen as well. 

But the woman freely rattled off slander about the master. He was of noble birth originally but had fallen miserably now, and his mind had been strange for a long time.

“Especially when he’s drunk, he gets violent, so once you think he’s had a bit, you’d better keep your distance.”

That’s what the woman added. Words that sounded like a warning based on content alone, but came across like a threat because of her tone.

Before long, Rosalie got a chance to verify her predecessor’s words.

That time was also the middle of the night, just like now.

Conscious of the master who’d been holed up in his room for days refusing to come out, she hurried to prepare to leave for the day. Two empty bottles sat outside the door. Not entirely because of that, but she couldn’t quite muster the courage to face him.

However, just as she was about to leave the house, she realized she’d left her apron upstairs.

The apron hung on the study door. She quickly crumpled it in her hand and turned around, when a pale face suddenly appeared at the far end of the dark hallway.

She barely suppressed a scream.

The man’s face was pale but very young and handsome. Because it held no expression whatsoever, he looked even more like a ghost. 

Only then did Rosalie recall the rumor that ‘Duke Ronenfeld’ had completely lost several years of memory due to war trauma.

Indeed, that expressionless face was only possible for someone who’d forgotten the past entirely. His face bore traces of fatigue and pain unsuited to his youth, but because the face’s owner couldn’t remember the reason, he couldn’t name the pain. 

Because of this, though tormented by something, he didn’t know what it was or what he was fighting.

Not just his face, but Siegfried Ronenfeld as a person had that atmosphere about him. Rosalie thought anyone who’d observed him closely would have seen through the rumors surrounding this house and man as baseless. He was miserable, but that misery didn’t stem from madness. 

He simply lived not knowing what to do, caught between nameless pain and lost emotions.

Even so, his eyes were blue and clear like water.

Those eyes that discovered her clouded instantly.

“Who… are you?”

The man’s consciousness wandered somewhere Rosalie didn’t know. So that question didn’t sound like he was simply asking her name.

He looked extremely confused and wary of the unfamiliar maid who’d suddenly appeared.

Unlike what Mrs. Zellen had said, this reaction definitely belonged to someone broken somewhere.

Rosalie couldn’t know how he’d ended up like this.

“Rosalie Rowen.”

She answered.