In the southern reaches of the Kingdom of Fenhaven, the grand old castle, densely surrounded by cold, hard grey stone buildings, overwhelmed the eye and announced the full presence of the Rodev Marquisate.

It was an enormous castle, easily three or four times the size of Wilroy castle.

‘It would have been nice if Vincent were here too.’

The image of her frail younger brother rose in Julia’s mind, then faded.

‘But a long journey like this would be too much for him. He’d run a fever and fall ill.’

Vincent, sickly from an early age, had been in even worse health lately and spent days at a time unable to leave his bed.

Being ill was nothing new, but it had grown more severe recently.

Even the slightest movement would bring on a fever and labored breathing, and he often collapsed.

The Wilroy County’s long stay at Pearl Springs was entirely for Vincent’s recuperation.

But the frequent fevers and seizures showed no sign of stopping, and their parents set everything else aside and devoted themselves entirely to caring for him.

Through it all, Julia, in good health, kept herself occupied with her own small pastimes and stayed quietly out of the family’s way, but she never once felt hurt at being left out of their attention.

She simply wanted her brother to recover and be well as soon as possible.

“The lord and lady are waiting inside.”

Following the head butler’s courteous guidance, Julia entered Rodev castle to find the high ceilings made it cool, even chilly.

With each step, the sound of shoes striking the marble floor cut heavily through the ice-cold air.

In the formal drawing room of the imposing main hall, Marquis and Marchioness Rodev received the Wilroy family.

Light brown hair, brown eyes, a well-matched couple who looked as though they belonged in a painting.

“Welcome. You must be tired from the long journey.”

“What a pleasure to receive such welcome guests through this precious connection.”

Unlike Marchioness Rodev, whose impression was gentle, the marquis narrowed his sharp eyes and studied the visitors as though looking straight through them.

“We are truly grateful that you agreed to receive us despite such short notice.”

Count Wilroy swallowed dryly and replied.

“You mentioned there is a matter of some importance to discuss? One could meet during the social season in the capital. I find myself curious as to why you made the journey all the way out here.”

The marquis’s voice carried a cool undercurrent of suspicion.

None of the ease from their days as neighbors at Pearl Springs remained.

“That is….”

Just as Count Willloy hesitated and began to open his mouth with desperate urgency, Marchioness Rodev cut in with a gentle smile.

“What kind of rudeness is this, leaving guests standing? Dear, please do invite them to sit.”

At the marchioness’s invitation, the party settled into the plush sofas.

Shortly after, fragrant tea and tempting refreshments arrived on silver trays and filled the tea table.

The sweet scent drifting through the drawing room softened the stiff, tense atmosphere just a little.

“This is a wild nut praline our head chef has newly introduced. It pairs wonderfully with the cookies and has the most delightful nutty flavor. Please, do try some.”

While Marchioness Rodev offered the refreshments with graceful hands, Julia sat quietly in the corner of the sofa and looked out the window.

Perhaps because the grounds were so vast.

The well-tended rear garden and the geometrically patterned maze garden were breathtakingly beautiful.

Her debutante invitation had not yet arrived, but once she received a royal ball invitation before long, she would be able to visit a palace even grander and more magnificent than this.

If the lord’s castle of the Rodev Marquisate, relatives of the late Queen Catherine, was this splendid, what must the royal palace in the capital be like?

While Julia kept her expression composed as her lady’s education taught her and let her thoughts wander, the adults’ conversation had already moved to the heart of the matter.

“There must be a particular reason for making such a long journey.”

The marquis’s voice, teacup in hand, pulled the atmosphere taut again.

“My lord, I will speak plainly. As you know, our family is going through a very difficult time. You must have heard the rumors that my only son, Vincent, suffers from an incurable illness.”

Rather than answer, the marquis lifted his teacup and took a slow sip.

“Hmm. I had only heard he was on a long course of recuperation.”

The clink of the teacup settling onto its saucer rang out unusually loud.

“Yes. The count on the candelabra is nearly full.”

The branched candelabra used at formal dinners held seven candles.

It was a bleak metaphor: their son had been bedridden for nearly seven years.

“I have been hearing news of young Vincent of the Wilroy family from afar. How heartbreaking it must be. If there is anything our marquisate can do to help, we would be glad to.”

Marchioness Rodev offered sincere comfort with a warm smile.

Seemingly emboldened by her gentle expression, Countess Willloy drew a long breath, her face pale.

“It is truly difficult and shameful to say this, but I will speak without pride. Our son Vincent suffers from black circulation disease. The world knows it as a difficult but not incurable illness, yet in truth no proper treatment has ever been found, and we have done nothing but focus on his recuperation.”

The countess continued in earnest.

“And then…, an alchemist we managed to find with great difficulty told us that a cure is recorded in an ancient text.”

“Yes. A cure for black circulation disease does exist. It is simply that the key herb required has all but vanished from the world.”

The marquis said evenly.

In that instant, a light of desperate hope rose in the eyes of Count and Countess Willloy.

“So you did know, my lord. I too heard of it by chance. That in this household….”

Countess Wilroy continued in a trembling, earnest voice.

“There is a rumor that you possess Moonfrost herb, the only herb that can cure black circulation disease. Is that truly the case?”

“You came all this way in person to confirm whether that rumor is true. Is that what you are saying?”

The marquis set down his teacup and smiled coldly.

His smooth expression held not sympathy, but the ease of someone in full command of the situation.

“Yes, my lord.”

Count Wilroy said urgently.

“A drowning man will grasp at any straw. I made this journey to ask and confirm it from you directly.”

“Hmm.”

Rather than answer, the marquis exchanged a brief glance with the marchioness beside him.

Silence fell.

Whether or not he knew the anxious hearts of Count and Countess Willloy burning with impatience, he took a long while before choosing his words carefully.

“To give you the conclusion first: the rumor is true.”

“Oh…!”

A sigh of relief escaped Countess Willloy.

The royal head alchemist, found at great expense and after every effort imaginable, said it clearly.

If only Moonfrost herb could be obtained, a perfect cure could be prepared exactly as recorded in the ancient text.

Those words meant that if the ingredient was secured, Vincent could be fully healed, and the Wilroy County’s line, which stood on the edge of extinction, could be preserved.

The countess suffered a difficult labor when she bore Vincent and could no longer produce an heir after that.

So Vincent was her only hope.

“A few years ago, I came to acquire Moonfrost herb through a chance opportunity.”

The marquis opened his mouth, quietly studying the count and countess.

“…However, given its rarity and value, I kept it strictly secret from the outside world, yet it seems word leaked out somewhere.”

The marquis’s voice remained level, but beneath it lay an unmistakable pride he could not quite conceal.

“I am sorry to say this, but…, it is truly a blessing for us that the rumor got out. Thanks to it, our Vincent, our family, was able to hold on to one last hope.”

The countess said, eyes glistening with tears.

The count and countess felt it with their whole being just then: how brightly hope could shine at the very end of despair.

Yet from the marquis’s cool gaze, they knew that hope would come at a fitting price.

The marquis kept his solemn expression, seemingly with no intention of joining in the joy the Wilroy family felt.

He still wore a faint, cool smile, and lightly tapped his fingertips on the table.

Tap, tap. The hollow sound fell heavily through the quiet drawing room.

“Countess Wilroy. Before we speak of hope, we must first speak of its worth.”

“Its…worth, my lord?”

A faint tremor crept into the count’s voice.

“Moonfrost herb is, as you know, rare. When I came to acquire it, I paid an enormous price. It is a miracle that can change the fate of one person, perhaps of an entire family. Surely a miracle of that kind must come with a fitting price?”

The air that swelled with hope just moments before deflated in an instant, like something pricked with a needle.

The color drained from the faces of Count and Countess Wilroy.

The rich, sweet scent of praline that filled the drawing room now felt suffocating, as though it was blocking their breath.

Marchioness Rodev, who had been helping the conversation along with a kind smile until now, dropped the expression too, like a mask removed.

She had been quietly watching the count and countess, but then her gaze slid over to Julia, sitting stiffly in the corner of the sofa.

It was a tenacious, piercing look, like a well-trained hawk the moment it spots its prey.

A chill ran down Julia’s spine. She had been staring blankly out the window at the maze garden, lost in thought, when the sharp sensation from the front reached her.

She felt suddenly pulled into the center of the adults’ conversation, which she thought had nothing to do with her.

Julia gave an awkward smile toward the marchioness studying her so intently, then found her gaze dropping involuntarily to the center of the tea table.

Her own face reflected in the ornate silver teapot looked strangely distorted.

It felt ominous, like a sign of the fate that lay ahead of her.

“I humbly ask, my lord. What value must we offer in exchange for the Moonfrost herb?”

Count Wilroy managed to open his mouth.

“Well.”

The marquis paused.

“As you know, Moonfrost herb, of which only a handful of roots exist across the entire continent, is not something whose worth can be measured in simple currency. Even the royal family keeps it locked deep in their vaults and never releases it to the world.”

“Yes. We are already aware of its tremendous value. But my lord, please. A precious life hangs on this. Our son Vincent…, has been told he will not live to see his twelfth birthday.”