The master of Bloodtail had returned.

The passing seasons had reshaped the landscape, making it almost unrecognizable. His nearly five-year absence had changed countless things — just as time itself had changed him.

The willow trees that lined the road to the ducal estate were dry and lifeless. As the snowfall intensified, their bare branches slowly became coated in white.

With every turn of the car’s wheels, long tracks stretched across the snow behind it.

A cold gaze shifted towards the window.

The estate, with its rooftops dusted in white, exuded the quiet mystique of an old, storied home, as well as an overwhelming, imposing grandeur.

“I apologize for speaking only of work matters the moment you returned.”

Since they left the station, Derek Douglas, his attendant, had been briefing Andrew, providing concise summaries efficiently.

The Allied war that had broken out five years earlier had ended in a decisive victory after two years, with Repenia fully reclaimed.

Yet Andrew had not returned to Bloodtail immediately.

Instead, he remained abroad, moving from one country to another. He focused on treating the battlefield injuries he had sustained while steadily fulfilling his duties to preserve the family’s business ties.

He did not allow himself to rest for a single moment.

At some point, it had become something close to an obsession.

“You’ve done well.”

“It was nothing. I only carried out your instructions, Your Excellency.”

Andrew offered a faint smile as he watched Derek modestly shake his head.

The car turned smoothly and drove through the main gate.

By then, the snowfall had intensified.

When the car came to a gentle stop, the butler, Padleton, was the first to step forward and greet Andrew.

Andrew’s gaze swept over the servants lined up from the entrance to the hall, finally resting on Lady Elizabeth Blackwood at the very end.

Lady Elizabeth Blackwood.

And Heather Bricklin.

They were still there.

***

“I’m relieved to see you looking well.”

The crackling of the fireplace and the soft clink of teacups against saucers filled the quiet reception room.

“I thought you had returned to Verna. It seems you’re still here.”

“Andy.”

“And it appears you’ve grown quite close with my consort in the meantime.”

Elizabeth silently took a sip of her tea.

Andrew’s gaze, lowered to the empty saucer, was indifferent.

“Have you decided to abandon your responsibilities to the family altogether?”

Her hand, gently brushing the teacup, moved with care.

Leaning back against the sofa, Andrew rested his chin against his hand.

“This isn’t like you. Such irresponsibility—it’s nothing short of disappointing.”

Her preamble dragged on.

Andrew looked bored.

Elizabeth studied him carefully, but received no reaction.

Frustration burned quietly inside her.

The longer her son was away, the more anxious she became.

Her greatest concerns had always been securing an heir and preserving her family’s stability.

Yet the very person who should have acted according to her wishes showed no intention of doing so.

Finally, as if she had made a decision, Elizabeth set her teacup down firmly on its saucer.

“Marry Miss Bricklin.”

At his mother’s predictably unwavering stance, a faint twitch passed across Andrew’s lips.

“I’ve given it careful thought. It’s been nearly five years. There is no love more devoted than this.”

“……”

“Of course, it’s regrettable that she disappeared so suddenly in the past, but that’s all behind us now.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than a quiet, mocking laugh came from across the table. Elizabeth’s complexion flushed red.

After finding out that Heather Bricklin had left in the middle of the night, Elizabeth had criticized and ridiculed her strongly, calling her a disgrace to the Blackwood family and refusing to speak her name again.

She hadn’t forgotten that.

But she could no longer stand by and watch her son drift aimlessly like this.

“The world has changed, Andy.”

“……”

“The two of you are being called a once-in-a-century love story. People are eagerly hoping for your reunion. And I feel the same.”

Elizabeth’s gaze was resolute, as though she had long prepared for this moment.

“You’ve been worrying about something so trivial for five years?”

It wasn’t even worth listening to.

Andrew had no intention of giving them what they wanted.

“There will be no heir for the House of Blackwood.”

“Andrew! Are you really going to be like this?”

“Then let me at least give people the kind of gossip they’re so desperate for.”
“…Ah, and you’ve always enjoyed gossip as well, haven’t you, Mother?”

Seeing his mother so visibly shaken, Andrew slowly drew a faint smile across his lips.

Elizabeth’s face flushed all the way up to her neck, and at last she burst into tears.

Andrew felt nothing.

Even now, faced with his mother’s tears, he felt nothing.

He casually pulled out a handkerchief, placed it on the table and stood up.

“You should return to Verna now.”

He fastened the buttons on his jacket, strode towards the door of the reception room and opened it without hesitation.

Heather, who had been standing there the whole time, was startled by the sound of the door opening and instinctively stepped back.

Her red, swollen eyes shimmered as she looked up at him with fragile longing.

“A-Andrew…”

Her voice was hoarse and unsteady, breaking weakly.

As he passed, her trembling hand reached out and clutched at the hem of his coat.

But that was all.

He did not stop.

His steps never faltered, and Heather, having forgotten how to hold on, let her hand fall helplessly.

A cold stillness lingered in the corridor he had left behind.

Unable to endure it any longer, tears finally streamed down her cheeks.

***

It had snowed heavily throughout the night.

Stepping outside, Rive checked on the chickens in their coop before heading to the stables to greet Cecilia, the Burnetts’ pride and joy.

The mare gave a soft snort at the sight of Rive and blinked calmly.

She was a brown horse with a striking black mane.

Changing the water and filling the hay came naturally to Rive.

A gentle smile curved her lips as she reached out and stroked Cecilia’s nose.

“Cecilia, it snowed a lot outside.”

Cecilia closed her eyes and lowered her head gently, leaning into the moment, as if soothed by her touch.

Only after kissing the mare softly on the forehead did Rive turn away.

The world beyond had been painted entirely white.

Each time it snowed, blanketing the land, the familiar landscape seemed to transform into something new, stirring a quiet flutter in her heart.

Naturally a memory from the past, one that had once made her heart race, flickered before her eyes.

He was still there.

Trapped in that moment, he stood in silence, watching the falling snow.

Rive quickly shook her head, trying to push the unwanted memory away, and cupped her cold cheeks in her hands.

“Mom!”

“Ainer, you’re already awake?”

“Uncle said if I go to painting class with him, he’ll buy me ice cream!”

“What? Uncle Paul?”

“Yeah!”

Returning inside, Rive gently stroked Ainer’s cheek as he smiled innocently, narrowing her eyes.

Paul, who had just come out of his room mid-yawn, froze at the sight—his mouth still half-open as an awkward smile crept onto his face.

“Ice cream? In this weather?”

“L-Liz, well, you see—”

“I recall both of you catching a cold last year because of that.”

At that moment, little Ainer seemed to realize his mistake. He pouted and shot Paul a pleading glance.

But Paul already knew.

He had no power here.

“Paul.”

Tilting her head slightly, one hand resting on her hip, Rive called his name.

Startled into alertness, Paul rushed over in a panic and quickly scooped Ainer into his arms.

“Just one! Only one! The class is outdoors today, so Ainer’s going to love it. You know that big plane tree on the estate lawn, right?”

“If you keep bringing a child to your lessons, won’t it trouble Mr. Leverd?”

“No! He absolutely adores Ainer!”

“That’s right! Mr. Leverd even gave me candy!”

The way the two of them joined forces and glanced at her nervously was almost laughable.

Rive shook her head and let out a deep sigh.

They looked tense, as though bracing themselves for a telling-off.

Just then, a hearty laugh rang out.

All three turned their heads.

Marsili was sitting at the dining table as though he had been there all along, watching them with a warm gaze.

“Grandfather.”

At Rive’s clear voice, Marsili stopped laughing and adopted a rather serious expression.

“If you ask me, Liz… I think you’ve already lost.”

“…What?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to admit it now? It seems there’s no room for us to come between those two and their unbreakable bond.”

Marsili suppressed a smile as he lifted his cup and took a quiet sip.

Rive watched him blankly before finally letting out a soft, deflated laugh.

The child’s clear, bright laughter followed, filling the air with warmth that was even deeper than that of the fireplace.