Chapter 8

This time, the leader’s face grew even paler, as if she had just heard something she wasn’t supposed to.

It was strange.

For a Purifier from her own Agriche branch to be chosen by the imperial bloodline should have been an honor.

Even if she wasn’t overcome with emotion, there was no reason for her to look so stricken.

“…I believe it would be better for Your Grace to take Céline instead.”

Faced with Kallain’s silent, unwavering gaze, the leader swallowed hard.

And yet, she pressed on.

“That girl… she comes from lowly blood.”

Lowly blood.

A trace of amusement flickered at the corner of Kallain’s lips.

“So, you’re saying my judgment is lacking?”

The leader’s face drained of color completely. She clutched her dress tightly, bowing her head.

“N-no, that’s not what I meant…”

“I’ll let that pass as a slip of the tongue this once.”

The weight of an unspoken warning filled the space, heavy and unyielding. A second offense would not be overlooked.

“I will take the girl with me now. Prepare her immediately.”

“T-that girl… She has been sent away… She is not here.”

“Sent away.”

“If Your Grace returns to the Grand Duke’s estate, I will… I will send her there…”

Her words faltered, her voice trembling, and her eyes flickered anxiously.

She was trying to hide it, but Kallain saw everything.

“…Is that so? Then I suppose I have no choice.”

* * *

As Kallain stepped out of the reception hall, his gaze gleamed with an unfamiliar glint—something sharp, almost predatory.

It was the look of a hunter who had just caught sight of an intriguing prey.

And whenever Kallain had that expression, things always took an unexpected turn.

Jayden, noticing it immediately, tensed as he observed his master.

Sure enough, Kallain’s next words were completely unexpected.

“That girl… She’s still here.”

“…Pardon? But the leader explicitly said she wasn’t.”

“You believed her?”

Kallain’s instincts had never been wrong.

And only after hearing his master’s remark did Jayden begin to pick apart the oddities in the leader’s words—words he had previously taken at face value.

“…It was strange. Rather than being pleased at the chance for her Purifier to serve Your Grace, she looked startled. Almost panicked.”

Kallain remained silent, letting Jayden continue his reasoning.

“But even so, would she really dare to lie about something like this? The risk…”

“That,” Kallain said coolly, “we’ll find out soon enough.”

Jayden was about to ask exactly how when his master’s next command left him speechless.

“Deploy the Detroit Knights discreetly. Have them monitor this place.”

“…Excuse me?”

Jayden hurried after Kallain, quickly piecing together his intentions.

“I understand what Your Grace is implying, but… is it truly necessary to go this far?”

“This is their business. There’s no reason for Your Grace to personally intervene—”

Just then—

A figure suddenly collapsed before the Grand Duke, prostrating herself on the ground.

A dancer.

Jayden didn’t recognize her, but the emblem embroidered on her costume clearly marked her as a member of Frozen Agriche.

* * *

It had been a while since the doors of Snow Hall had been locked.

Alone in the silent space, my thoughts bubbled up like foam.

‘Why has the Grand Duke come back to Frozen Agriche?’

‘…Could he be here for me?’

For a brief moment, hope flickered inside me—only to pop like a fragile bubble.

The last image of him leaving Agriche resurfaced in my mind—his detached, indifferent gaze seeping into my thoughts like ice.

Of course.

If he had intended to take me, he would have done so back then.

There was no reason for him to return now.

Everything was hopeless.

As despair swallowed up any lingering hope, my fading consciousness drifted.

Then—

A distant rumble echoed in my ears, shaking the ground beneath me.

A deep, thunderous sound, followed by the sharp crack of something colliding.

My heart jolted.

Was I hallucinating now?

As if mocking my thoughts, another boom—louder, more real—shattered through the silence.

Bang—!

A heavy, majestic sound.

Then, the door burst open.

Blinding white light spilled through the widening gap.

And through that light, a pair of heavy boots strode in without hesitation, stopping right before me.

‘…Are they going to beat me again?’

I no longer had the strength to resist or even cry out in pain.

I had already given up.

My vision, filled with despair, blurred further.

But then—

Through the haze, a single boot came into focus.

I blinked.

There was no Frozen Agriche insignia on it.

No knight in Frozen went without one.

‘Who is this…?’

A large hand grasped my chin, lifting my face effortlessly.

A subtle yet firm pressure guided my head upward.

And then—

Piercing blue eyes, sharp and unwavering, locked onto mine.

Silver hair, gleaming like moonlight, cascaded down in soft waves.

“…Y-Your Grace?”

Was I dreaming?

Otherwise, why would he be here?

He had not chosen me.

Had I lost my mind to the point of hallucinating?

Then—

As if to prove his existence, the man brushed his fingers over my face.

“I despise seeing what’s mine in ruins.”

A shiver crawled down my spine as his thumb skimmed over my lips.

His voice—razor-sharp, laced with unmistakable authority—sent a chilling tension rippling through the room.

Reflected in the depths of his blue eyes was my own battered, wretched figure.

Only then did reality snap back into place.

‘Did he just call me his?’

‘Is he really…?’

Around us, the members of Frozen Agriche had fallen into stunned silence, heads bowed as if even daring to breathe would be an offense.

The situation was painfully obvious.

The members had likely followed out of curiosity, eager to see how things would unfold.

The leader, on the other hand, had been too preoccupied to manage such details.

Now, faced with a reality deviating from their expectations, the gathered members shrank back, their bodies stiff with unease.

They were too terrified to even meet the Grand Duke’s gaze.

Kallain swept his eyes over them once before turning his attention to the leader, who had belatedly rushed into the room.

Her face was deathly pale, her lowered gaze trembling as she struggled to form words.

“H-how did you…?”

“I should be the one asking.” His voice was as frigid as the winter winds. “Why is the girl you claimed was not here… standing before me?”

“I-I have no excuse, Your Grace.”

The sharp weight of his gaze bore down on her, and she trembled like a leaf caught in a storm.

Her thoughts raced. She had to come up with something—anything.

If she lied now and was caught, she could very well be executed on the spot.

With no other choice, she stammered out the truth.

“Sylvia… committed a serious offense. I was merely enforcing discipline within Frozen.”

The imperial family and Agriche were in a symbiotic relationship, but there was an unmistakable hierarchy between them.

If this escalated and Frozen Agriche was accused of deceiving royalty, their hard-earned reputation could crumble entirely.

No—at worst, the entire Frozen branch could be wiped from existence.

Knowing this, the leader knelt on one knee and bowed her head low, pressing her forehead to the cold floor.

“I have deceived Your Grace and deserve to be punished. Please deliver any sentence you see fit.”

For a long moment, Kallain merely stood there, watching the back of her lowered head in silence.

Then, his gaze shifted—slowly, deliberately—until it landed on me.

It did not waver.

He was in no rush, as if savoring the moment, drawing out the tension.

He was enjoying this.

Finally, his command rang through the room.

“You seem to be apologizing to the wrong person.”

He tapped his sword against me lightly.

The leader’s entire body shook at the blatant humiliation.

For someone of her status to bow before a mere member was beyond disgraceful.

But she had no choice.

Her trembling grew more violent, but at last, she turned to me—lowering her head so deeply it nearly touched the ground.

Only then did Kallain rise, seemingly satisfied.

What was he thinking?

As I tried to make sense of the situation—

Suddenly, my body was lifted into the air.

Kallain had picked me up.

I flinched in shock, but he remained unfazed, his expression as composed as ever as he strode toward the door.

Just before he could leave, someone dared to block his path.

It was Céline, kneeling in deep submission.

“Your Grace,” she spoke, her voice soft yet firm. “Sylvia is a thief who attempted to steal a sacred relic of Frozen Agriche.”

Kallain looked down at her with an expression unreadable yet undeniably condescending.

That arrogant gaze—cold, superior—made Céline seem even smaller.

Unaware of this, she continued, “I fear it would be improper to keep such an impure individual by Your Grace’s side.”

“…Improper, is it?”

A quiet, mirthless chuckle brushed against the air.

“I find myself more concerned about your future.”

Before Céline could react, Kallain made a subtle motion.

At his command, a familiar figure stepped forward—his butler, Jayden.

He held out Snowstone.

As Kallain’s piercing gaze ran over the artifact, voices began to echo from within.

—If she’s convicted of stealing the Snowstone, she’ll be expelled from Agriche.

—Shut up. When we cut someone off, we cut them off completely.

—That girl’s done for now.

—She should’ve known better than to cross Céline. The moment she dared to dance before the Grand Duke, her fate was sealed.

—Céline’s really pissed off this time. She’s never gone this far before.

Every voice, every word, was recorded inside Snowstone, revealing the entire conspiracy.

The guilty parties turned white as death, their expressions twisting in horror as their own voices damned them.

‘Snowstone… was a recording artifact?’

Of course, everyone was shocked.

But Kallain paid them no mind.

Without hesitation, he turned and strode out of Snow Hall, still carrying me in his arms.

His lips were sealed, his jaw tight.

He looked both furious and utterly indifferent at the same time.

I couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking.

But there was one thing I did know for certain.

Kallain was my savior.