“The estimated arrival time is 5 p.m. You will rest at the hotel on the first day. The following day, you are scheduled to attend the hotel’s opening reception. The day after that, there will be a charity event hosted by the National Art Institute, followed by a dinner with the sponsors in the evening.”

The weather had grown noticeably colder.

On the way to the station, Derek continued his report without missing a beat.

Andrew, his gaze fixed beyond the window, gave a faint nod.

Catching a glimpse of Andrew’s expression in the rear-view mirror, the driver swallowed uneasily, easing off the accelerator and guiding the wheel with greater care.

Even the slightest movement from Andrew — something as simple as idly adjusting his cufflinks — was enough to make both the driver and Derek tense up.

“Ah, and also…”

Derek’s voice faded into a distant murmur.

Andrew’s restless thoughts drifted far away.

His wife was dead.

Yet since returning to Bloodtail, this undeniable truth had felt unreal, like a waking dream from which he could not escape.

Whenever he had an uneasy night, her ghost would appear, flickering before his eyes: close enough to touch, but always just out of reach.

Every time he reached out, believing he might finally grasp her slender wrist, she would vanish.

Like melting snow, she dissolved into nothing.

He had thought he would be fine, but that had been arrogant.

And yet, absurdly, he was still haunted by the ghost of his dead wife.

“Marquis Bangton Bricklin is also listed among the attendees.”

The bustling streets came into view beyond the car window.

Only then did Derek’s words register clearly.

Andrew turned his head, and the driver—meeting his gaze in the mirror—flinched.

“…Who?”

“Pardon?”

“The charity event.”

“Ah, yes. He has pledged a substantial donation to the National Art Institute charity event.”

So, he still hadn’t given up.

He clicked his tongue softly and turned his gaze back to the window.

Derek offered an awkward smile.

The Marquis of Bricklin, someone who had never previously shown the slightest interest in charity events, had suddenly made an unusually generous donation, and the reason was obvious. Only those who contributed a certain amount were granted entry to the event.

Bangton had made his intentions clear. He was doing this for one reason alone: to provoke Andrew.

As always, the highlight of the event would be the art auction.

Collecting art had long been one of Andrew’s passions. This passion had led him to become a patron of the National Art Institute, an Imperial-funded foundation that supports talented artists by providing them with resources and acquiring their work.

Andrew had an exceptional eye. The artists he supported and the pieces he acquired never failed to surpass expectations.

But this auction was different.

It carried a meaning far greater than usual.

A masterpiece by Hyacinth, a work never before revealed to the public, was finally to be auctioned.

That was the only thing Andrew wanted.

And Bangton knew it.

“If you continue to treat my sister like a ghost, I won’t stay silent.”

Bangton’s voice suddenly echoed in his mind.

“No matter how dirty or childish it may be, I’ll make sure you can’t ignore her.”

Andrew let out a quiet scoff.

Hearing this unexpected sound, the driver and Derek both stiffened.

The air became suffocating.

Derek fought the sudden urge to jump out of the moving car.

***

“Ainer will really be okay… right?”

On the way to Southfirth Station—and even after taking their seats on the train—Rive couldn’t stop worrying about him.

Paul adjusted the ribbon tied beneath her chin and nodded reassuringly.

“Don’t worry. He was happier than anyone about this. Honestly, he’ll probably have more fun spending time alone with Grandfather.”

“What?”

“You’re always nagging him—did you wash your hands, did you finish your studies, don’t eat too many sweets or you’ll get cavities…”

Paul mimicked her tone, rambling on.

Rive’s eyes narrowed slowly as she watched him until she finally couldn’t help but smile.

Paul chuckled and leaned back comfortably into his seat.

“Apparently, our Ainer says his mother’s happiness is his own happiness.”

“……”

“Isn’t that remarkable? For a four-year-old?”

The smile faded from Rive’s face, leaving behind something strangely heavy.

Her eyes, turned toward the window, sank with quiet weight.

“Why the gloomy look again?”

“…I just think children should be allowed to be children. But Ainer—because of me—is growing up far too quickly.”

“How is that your fault?”

Paul stood up straight and frowned slightly.

A station attendant outside the window signaled that the train was about to depart.

The train slowly began to move.

Paul glanced down at the heavy bag resting at Rive’s feet.

“That’s just who Ainer is. That’s his nature. So you don’t need to look like you’re carrying the weight of the world.”

“……”

“You should be more concerned about what will happen if we fail to supply the department store. Have you forgotten what Ainer said? He was so excited that he even asked if that meant he could eat a hundred ice creams if everything sold.”

Rive lowered her gaze to the bag at her feet.

Inside the thick leather case were all the knitted clothes she had carefully made over time.

Of course she wanted to succeed.

But she hadn’t ignored the possibility of failure, either.

Still, after coming all the way to the capital with such resolve, shouldn’t she return with something to show for it?

“Come to think of it, this train stops at Bloodtail once.”

“…What?”

“The routes have changed a lot these past few years. It only stops once, so it’s the fastest way to the capital. Still, it’ll take a while—get some rest, Liz.”

She could feel Paul beside her, leaning back in his seat.

Rive turned her head towards the window, her expression unsettled.

Hearing his words, her heart began to pound painfully fast.

‘Nothing will happen.’

She repeated it to herself, but the unease refused to fade, instead rising to her face in a flush of heat.

As the train picked up speed, the landscape outside blurred into streaks of color, as though a canvas had been smeared with paint. Bare branches and patches of melting snow formed a quiet winter landscape, but she could not connect with any of it.

The moment her thoughts turned to Bloodtail, her husband’s face appeared vividly in her mind: Cold, pale blue eyes. A faint, cruel smile on his lips. Dark hair like the night sky in a snowstorm, caught in a raging wind.

Standing there alone.

‘Just once… look back at me.’

She wished she could see her reflection in those pale eyes once more, face that cold, merciless smile again and gently brush that dark hair back from his forehead.

‘You’re still there, aren’t you?’

In that place — the place that had cast her aside.

That barren, frozen expanse of snow that had consumed her soul and taken her breath away.

Her dry eyes blinked slowly, as if trying to hold on to the fading illusion.

It meant nothing now.

Nothing remained.

After sitting there for a long time, lost in her thoughts, Rive finally closed her eyes.

She was exhausted.

She had knitted non-stop until the day before, and her fingers still ached.

Allowing her thoughts to drift away, she fell asleep.

Even in her dreams, the only place where she could still meet him, his presence lingered within the relentless snowstorm.

***

“Will you be alright on your own?”

Derek looked at Andrew, still feeling slightly bewildered.

The platform was crowded, but the first-class queue was quiet.

Andrew gave a light nod.

Derek had originally been supposed to accompany him, but Andrew had changed his mind when they arrived at the station.

“Mother will likely try something in my absence. Keep a close watch. Pedleton is easily swayed by her.”

“Yes, understood.”

Elizabeth was not one to give up easily.

Given how persistently she had pushed for his marriage to Heather Bricklin, who knew what schemes she might devise while he was away?

Previously, he had allowed it, knowing full well what was going on.

But now he would not.

Andrew checked his watch, his gaze shifting towards the empty stretch of railway ahead.

“It looks like it might snow.”

Dark clouds spread across the sky, heavy and gray.

Following his gaze, Derek lifted his head and looked toward the distant sky.

“Ah… Your Excellency used to like watching the snow, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“…Pardon?”

At the unexpected answer, Derek’s eyes widened.

Andrew’s neatly slicked-back hair stirred in the passing wind.

“I don’t like it.”

When she once asked Andrew if he liked the snow, he remained silent.

The truth — that he actually hated it — remained unspoken, but she could see it on his face.

She smiled.

Her cheeks flushed, and her expression was so innocent that it was almost amusing.

He hadn’t bothered to correct her.

Because of that, she went on and on, talking endlessly about how much she loved winter.

Why had he kept listening?

If her voice had once sounded pleasant, perhaps that, too, was a distorted memory.

Just then, the train came into view along the tracks.

Feeling the cold on his cheek, Andrew lifted his head.

Snow had begun to fall, drifting quietly through the air.