~Chapter 01~
A fierce snowstorm raged as if it were about to bury the entire world.
Hearing the wind shake the windows, the man warming himself by the fireplace frowned.
“Terrible weather.”
“You’re right, Your Grace,” the large man beside him quickly agreed.
“With a snowstorm like this, we might be stuck here for half a month.”
“If we’re lucky.”
The man glanced out the window.
Frost had clouded the glass so much that nothing outside could be seen.
“Do we have enough food?”
“We’ve stocked up enough for two months.”
“Make sure the food storage is secure, Logan. We don’t know when the Sikun might attack.”
“Don’t worry, sir. In weather like this, even the Sikun will be hiding in their caves.”
“Well, that’s true.”
Unless someone had a death wish, no sane person would be wandering around in this kind of weather.
Asthan von Schulzmeier, Duke of the Schulzmeier territory—the northernmost land of the continent—let out a bitter smile.
Known as the end of the world or the gate to the underworld, the Duchy of Schulzmeier was buried under snow and ice all year long.
There were only three months when it didn’t snow, and during those three months, the borders were strictly guarded.
That was the season when the Sikun were most active.
The Sikun were monsters living in the snowy mountains. They were large, strong, and quick—so most people who encountered one wouldn’t survive.
The Duke’s castle was built high on a steep hill, designed to help defend against the Sikun.
Of course, in weather like today’s, not even the Sikun—or their grandfathers—would dare step outside.
Asthan remembered that there were still two months left until the end of the harsh season. He brushed off his pointless worries and began thinking about how to deal with all the snow—preferably in a way that would make people say he did a good job.
He decided the best idea was to make Logan, who never seemed to do anything, handle it. Just as he was feeling satisfied with that plan, the butler knocked on his office door.
“Your Grace, you should come outside for a moment.”
“What is it?”
“There’s a visitor.”
“A visitor? In this weather?”
Apparently, someone had gone insane enough to show up.
Asthan wrapped himself in a thick cloak and stepped out into the snowstorm.
He hadn’t taken more than a few steps before his body started to freeze stiff.
A guest on a day like this? Maybe Colin had just seen things.
Convinced he’d find nothing, Asthan reached the castle gate—only to gasp without realizing it.
“…”
It was a woman. And she was breathtakingly beautiful.
Covered in snow from head to toe, she looked up at him with a pale face.
Asthan stared at the small woman—barely reaching his shoulder.
Her breath steamed in the cold air, proving she wasn’t a ghost or an illusion.
But if she made it here through that storm… she couldn’t be human, either.
So what was she?
While Asthan studied the mysterious woman with suspicion, she spoke first.
“Are you Duke Schulzmeier?”
“I am.”
“It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Gloria McCain.”
“Gloria McCain?”
A list of noble family names flashed through his mind, but none matched “McCain.”
Keeping his guard up, Asthan asked,
“How did you get here?”
“I walked. At first, the coachman said he’d take me to the top of the hill, but the snowstorm got too bad and the horses refused to move.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“Oh, you’re asking why I came.”
Realizing the real question, Gloria looked around awkwardly, then continued.
“I’m sorry, but… could we talk inside?”
Her eyebrows, dusted with frost, trembled pitifully.
Wrapped in just a cloak like a blanket, she was deathly pale and looked like she might collapse at any moment.
Asthan looked at the woman standing in snow up to her ankles and clicked his tongue.
Anyone familiar with the duchy’s winter would never choose a flimsy cloak, a shabby autumn dress, worn-out boots, and a childish-looking handbag.
‘She must have come here planning to die.’
Asthan didn’t want to let a complete stranger into the castle—but if he sent her away in this weather, they’d be dragging in a frozen corpse by morning.
Even if she had bad intentions, what could a small and fragile woman like her possibly do?
“All right. Come in for now.”
At his reluctant permission, Gloria’s face lit up. Asthan felt a small twinge of guilt as he led the way.
She followed him, limping slightly—perhaps from frostbite.
He slowed his pace to match hers and walked silently toward the castle.
Just as they reached the door, he came to a stop. The door wouldn’t budge.
Apparently, someone had locked it—worried the Duke might be bringing in a ghost or some kind of spirit.
“Damn it,” he muttered, glancing sideways at the shivering woman.
Annoyed, he kicked the door.
“Logan! Open this door, now!”
There was some murmuring from inside. Then, a young man peeked out through a small opening.
“Your Grace, are you all right?”
“I’m not sure, but I can assure you that you won’t be if you don’t open this door right now.”
“Haha, no need to say it like that…”
Logan chuckled nervously and hurriedly unlocked the door.
Word had already spread—several sleepy servants were lined up at the entrance.
The butler who had announced the unexpected visitor pointed at Gloria and asked,
“Your Grace, who is this woman?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Could she be… a secret lover you’ve been hiding from us?”
“Stop talking nonsense and go to bed if you’re tired.”
Asthan cut him off firmly.
You’d think the crowd would disperse, but everyone’s curiosity about the rare and beautiful guest kept them glued in place.
This won’t do.
“There are too many people here. Let’s go to the drawing room.”
“The drawing room? But she looks like she’s about to collapse!”
A woman burst forward—Asthan’s old nanny and the head maid, the real keeper of the castle’s daily affairs.
“This nanny didn’t raise you to treat a lady like that.”
She glared at him and quickly grabbed Gloria’s small bag.
“My goodness, everything’s soaked. You need to warm up immediately. Follow me.”
“Thank you,” Gloria said with a pale smile, unsteadily following the maid.
Asthan clicked his tongue as he watched her walk away, then turned back inside.
“Come in, come in,” said the head maid, leading Gloria to a small but cozy room.
It was warm inside, with a fire already burning.
“I’ll move you to a larger room in the morning. This is the only room we’ve already heated for the night.”
“This is lovely and warm,” Gloria replied politely.
She sat in front of the fireplace and peeled off her soaked gloves.
Her fingers were numb with cold.
As she tried to rub some life back into her stiff hands, the head maid handed her a teacup.
“Here, hold this.”
“Thank you.”
She warmed her hands with the heat of the cup and took a sip.
The hot tea flowed down her throat, slowly warming her frozen insides.
“Haa…”
With a sigh of relief, the maid gave her a sympathetic look.
“You must be exhausted, but you should bathe and change your clothes. If you stay like that, you’ll catch a cold.”
She glanced at Gloria’s shabby little bag and added,
“I’ll have something clean set out for you in the bathroom.”
“Thank you. I feel bad imposing on you like this when we just met.”
“Nonsense. You’re a guest in our castle.”
The maid smiled kindly.
“I’m Elizabeth Merriweather, the head maid here.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Gloria McCain.”
Gloria smiled softly as she responded.
Elizabeth refilled her cup with more hot water.
“I’ll let you know when the bath is ready, so please just rest for now.”
“Okay.”
Elizabeth asked if she needed anything else, then left the room.
Finally alone, Gloria leaned back in the chair, her tension easing.
Her whole body ached as if she had been beaten up.
She took off her boots and stretched her legs out toward the fire.
They itched as the warmth returned—she was lucky to have avoided frostbite.
Growl…
As soon as the cold faded, her stomach growled loudly.
She’d barely eaten anything on the way to the duchy, so it was surprising she hadn’t noticed her hunger until now.
Still… I made it here alive. That’s something.
The crackling of the fire sounded like a lullaby.
With her guard down, drowsiness swept over her. Just as her eyes started to close, she suddenly snapped awake.
“Oh no, my bag!”
She jumped out of the chair and grabbed her handbag, quickly pulling out a paper that had been stuffed at the bottom.
“Haa… Thank goodness.”
She let out a sigh of relief and gently spread the paper out on the table.
The ink had smudged, but it was still readable.
Maybe Lady Luck was watching over her.
Gloria stared at the old, tattered paper, thinking over the miraculous journey that had brought her here.
Now, she just needed one last stroke of luck.
She bit her lip and rolled up her wet sleeve.
A dark bruise was clearly visible—
a gift from her wretched stepbrother, Jonathan Curtis.
