Chapter 2

Jayden, quick to notice Kallain’s change, immediately halted the carriage and rushed toward him.

“Your Grace!”

The world flickered—light and dark twisting like an illusion—until everything turned upside down.

His heart twisted, and his blood surged in reverse, roiling inside him like a violent tide.

Urgent shouts rang out, their echoes blending into a deep, droning hum.

But Kallain shut them out, forcing himself to move.

Without hesitation, he leaped out of the carriage.

His warhorse, Pellecita, was swiftly brought forward by the knights, who had already sensed the urgency of the situation.

The moment Kallain mounted, he yanked the reins—
The horse reared up, letting out a sharp cry that tore through the air.

The Detroit knights, all too familiar with such incidents, cleared the path and swiftly followed behind.

The pounding of hooves came to a halt before a massive structure, its entrance adorned with intricate snowflake patterns.

At its center, scrawled in an elegant yet hurried script, were the words:

Frozen Agriche.

* * *

In the Empire, where there existed Manifested Ones who inherited the imperial family’s abilities, there were also those known as Purifiers—individuals who prevented their rampages.

The power of Purification was considered one of the most revered abilities, essential for maintaining stability in the world.

Unlike the imperial abilities, which were bound to special bloodlines, the Purification ability could manifest randomly in ordinary individuals, making it a rare blessing.

And the reason why Purifiers were called blessed was simple—

Becoming a Purifier granted a chance to erase one’s past and start anew.

For that reason, the members of Agriche devoted themselves wholeheartedly to honing their Purification abilities—

Striving to be chosen by the most powerful figures, for a chance at rising in status.

And so, Agriche, an institution dedicated to training Purifiers, was established.

The Empire had a total of four Agriche facilities, each representing a different season.

Among them, the one that symbolized winter was this very place—
“Frozen Agriche.”

Though it all sounded grand, in reality, it was simply a place where people lived.

In other words—nothing special.

“Sylvia, you can get this done by tomorrow morning, right?”

Thud—

A mountain of laundry was unceremoniously dumped before her.

One, two, three… it was too much to even count.

Sylvia bit back a curse, lifting her head with a forced smile.

“Of course.”

Watching the retreating figure of the other member, Sylvia slammed the paddle down.

Thud— Thud—

The furious sound rippled across the peaceful stream, carried away as if nothing had happened.

It had already been half a year since she arrived here.

And yet, as a newcomer, she was still nothing more than a glorified maid.

Her daily routine never changed.

4 AM – Wake up.
4 to 6 AM – Clean the interior halls of Agriche.
6 AM – Attend morning assembly, then have breakfast.
7 to 11 AM – Laundry.
11 AM to 1 PM – Help prepare meals, then eat a single rice ball before getting back to work.
1 to 6 PM – Clean the training stages.
And after that—
Well, that was it.

There was no such thing as getting off work.

Every day, she spent her time trapped in this hell, surrounded by cruel superiors.

Just then, someone plopped down beside her.

“How the hell are you smiling with all that laundry in front of you?”

“Should I cry instead?”

“Ha! You’re something else. How can you go through all this and not snap even once?”

The girl, who was grumbling about Sylvia’s life more than Sylvia herself, flushed red beneath her freckles.

Her name was Monet—

The first and only friend Sylvia had made here.

In truth, before Sylvia had arrived, all of these chores had been Monet’s responsibility.

So, at the very least, she understood the struggle better than anyone else.

For someone with such a sharp tongue, she had a surprisingly kind heart.

Usually, when a newcomer arrived, the older members would make sure to pass down their suffering in turn.

But Monet was different.

Even today, she squatted beside Sylvia, helping her with the endless pile of laundry.

Not that she was particularly useful—she was slow-witted and clumsy, so much so that her help often caused more trouble than good.

Normally, ignoring people like her was the best survival tactic—lest they drag you down with them.

But somehow, things had turned out like this.

Still, Monet, with her heart of gold, continued to huff and puff, clumsily pounding away with the washing paddle.

Then, out of nowhere—

“Did you hear?”

Monet’s voice cut through the steady rhythm of washing.

It was an odd question, but the gleam in her eyes told Sylvia that something big had happened again.

Given that Agriche frequently dealt with high-ranking nobles, rumors spread faster than wildfire here.

But as a mere laundry hand, Sylvia wasn’t exactly in a position to overhear such gossip firsthand.

Most of what she knew about Agriche’s inner workings came from Monet—her personal informant.

Monet might not have been the sharpest when it came to social cues, but she had an uncanny ability to gather information from the strangest places.

Seeing her eyes sparkle like that, Sylvia figured it was probably another case of someone being carried out on a stretcher.

“Why? Did someone get taken away again?”

Agriche was full of rumors.

There were plenty of stories about Purifiers who had broken limbs or suffered severe injuries to the point of being rendered useless.

And at the center of many of those rumors was always Céline.

Since Monet had witnessed much of it firsthand, those stories carried a fair amount of truth.

Not that it was particularly shocking—
Given the high-ranking figures who passed through Agriche, it wasn’t surprising that power struggles occurred.

The only surprising thing was how lowly and brutal those power plays could be.

But to Sylvia, that was just another reason to keep her head down and survive unnoticed.

Was she afraid of getting her legs broken?

She wouldn’t say no—
But there was another reason she had chosen to live like a ghost here.

Then, Monet dropped the bombshell.

“You really haven’t heard? The Grand Duke Kallain is coming. Everyone’s in an uproar—looks like he rampaged again.”

Sylvia’s fingers lost strength, and the damp fabric slipped from her grasp.

Monet, noticing immediately, grabbed Sylvia’s hand and shoved the laundry back into it.

“What’s with you? You seriously didn’t know until now?”

“The Grand Duke Kallain… is really coming?”

“Yep. Seems like this time, he won’t last without purification. But wait—you don’t usually care about visitors.”

Monet was right.

Sylvia had never cared about anyone else’s arrival.

Of course, she didn’t.

Because she had only one goal.

Kallain Detroit.

There was something she had to uncover in the Grand Duke’s estate.

“You’d better get ready too. Everyone has to gather at the Frozen Hall.”

With that, Monet hastily gathered up her laundry and stood.

No matter how many hundreds, no—thousands of times Sylvia had rehearsed this moment in her head,

Now that it was actually happening, her mind was a mess.

Even as she returned to her quarters, changed clothes, and moved toward the Frozen Hall,

Her thoughts wouldn’t settle.

“I must catch his eye.”

Her obsession with Grand Duke Kallain had a simple purpose—

To enter the Grand Duke’s household.

And that obsession had begun with a single dream.

* * *

Ten Years Ago
I woke up on the streets, my memories gone.

I couldn’t recall my name, my family, or any part of my past.

All I had was the expensive dress I had been wearing when I awoke.

To survive, I sold the dress and searched for work.

But in an empire where I had no proof of identity, surviving alone was nearly impossible.

I suffered through countless jeers and scorn.

Eventually, I was captured by a group of slave traders—but the moment their guards let their guard down, I escaped, running for my life.

Still, I was left wandering the streets once again, and before long, exhaustion from hunger and cold took its toll.

I collapsed.

As the flame of my life flickered, something awoke inside me—

My power of Purification manifested.

A Viscount couple happened to witness it and, realizing what it was, took me in.

They brought me to their estate, officially adopted me as their daughter, and fed me my first warm meal in ages.

Just the simple taste of hot bread and soup had felt like heaven.

At first, I thought they were angels—
A gift from the gods, sent to save me from my cruel fate.

But there were no such things as angels in this world.

Not long after, they brought out a magic device and began extracting my blood.

They used my blood to create Purification Water, which they then sold in secret on the black market.

While Purification Water was primarily used for purification rituals, it was also illicitly traded among nobles as a means of pleasure and indulgence.

Judging by the growing size of the Viscount’s jewels and the increasing number of extravagant furnishings in the mansion, my blood must have been selling for a fortune.

And so, for five long years, I lived as nothing more than a machine for producing Purification Water.

I tried to escape.

One night, when everyone was asleep, I ran.

But I was caught almost immediately—

And after being deprived of food and water for days, teetering on the edge of death, I lost all hope.

My complexion paled, my arms became riddled with bruises, and I slowly withered away.

Then, one night—
I had a strange dream.

A child ran through the grass, calling out to me.

“Sister!”

His bright smile was like fresh morning dew, glistening beneath the sunrise.

At first, I only saw his faint, smiling figure—
But with each recurring dream, his face became clearer.

When I finally saw him up close, I realized something.

We looked alike.

Another night.

The boy ran toward me again, laughing as he grabbed the hem of my dress.

“Sister!”

Each time I woke from those dreams, my eyes brimmed with tears.

Family.

Could it be that I had a family out there, somewhere?

The mere thought made my heart race.

And maybe—just maybe—
They were searching for me, too.

After dreaming of him several times, I became certain—

That boy was my younger brother.

Then, the dreams changed.

I saw my brother walking alongside someone else.

It wasn’t a simple companion—
There was something off about the way he kept glancing back, his eyes sorrowful, on the verge of tears.

The knights around him, their faces flushed with anger, made it clear—

My brother was being taken away.

And every time, the scene was surrounded by raging flames.

For an entire month, the same dream repeated.

Then, one day—
I saw something I hadn’t been able to see before.