* * *
“Lord Nael, it’s snowing. Shall I draw back the curtains?”
Phillip gently smiled as he set a teacup in front of Nael.
The duke had instructed him to serve Nael anything he wanted, regardless of what it was, since he had barely been eating lately.
But Nael had always had a small appetite, and it was disheartening to see him grow thinner since coming to the North.
“Snow?”
The hand that had been busily moving a quill paused.
Nael had been half-heartedly accepting Killian’s offer to teach him how to read and write.
Every day, Killian left him words and sentences like homework, and Nael would copy them down multiple times.
If he didn’t understand something, he’d sometimes ask Phillip.
His dull green eyes, previously focused on the paper, flickered faintly at the mention of snow.
When Phillip pulled the curtain open, pure white snowflakes poured from the sky like rain.
It was as if the snow intended to cover the entire world in its color, falling with relentless fervor.
“Wow. It’s so beautiful. Everything’s white.”
Nael pressed his forehead to the large windowpane and took a deep breath, as if he wanted to catch the scent of the snow.
When his ink-smudged fingers touched the glass, black fingerprints were left behind.
His green eyes, wide with wonder as he looked at the snow, were as endearing as a fawn’s.
Phillip let out a small chuckle and cleared his throat.
“The glass is cold. You might catch a cold if you stay like that.”
“I won’t catch a cold from just this.”
Nael chuckled sheepishly and stepped away from the window.
The snowflakes, which looked like they would melt the moment they touched the ground, were slowly starting to accumulate.
As if answering Nael’s hopes, the entire land was gradually blanketed in white.
He stared at it, dazed.
The sight of the flawless snow covering everything was nothing short of breathtaking.
Just imprinting the stunningly beautiful transformation in his memory filled his heart with a quiet fullness.
Ren had once asked if he’d try writing a journal once he grew more comfortable with the alphabet.
If he could put what he saw into words, he would have picked up a pen and written right then.
If he could draw like Killian, he would’ve captured this scene on canvas.
He suddenly felt frustrated by how little he’d learned so far.
He stood, thinking it was time to stop daydreaming and study, when he saw it—thin trails of gray smoke rising from somewhere within the inner grounds.
The servants were rushing toward the direction of the smoke.
Fire. A fire… there’s a fire.
Nael felt his vision go black.
The snowy world had turned into ashes in an instant.
The servants lined up in formation, hauling water as quickly as they could.
The flames were far from dying down. It was a weapons storage built mostly out of wood—easy fuel for the fire.
The blaze consumed it faster than anyone could react.
Unfortunately, both the inner and outer walls were made of wood, so manpower and time were critical.
Even if they gave up on salvaging what was inside, if the fire spread, the damage would be catastrophic.
The snow around the burning storage didn’t even have a chance to settle, evaporating instantly from the heat.
Killian stood and watched the furious red flames devour the small storage like a beast with its jaws wide open.
It was a hellish fire, as if it had risen straight from the underworld.
Under Killian’s command, everyone was doing their best to pour water in a coordinated effort.
“Was anyone inside?”
Killian asked one of the soldiers.
The man who was supposed to be guarding the warehouse only showed up once the fire had already engulfed the building.
Out of breath and pale, he was immediately dragged in front of Killian to explain himself.
“I-I stepped away for a moment to relieve myself. I’m so sorry. I’ve committed an unforgivable sin.”
“Then, you’re saying no one was inside?”
Killian bit down his frustration and asked.
“Speak!”
His voice sliced through the air.
The soldier trembled, nearly sobbing.
“Th-the boy, John. He was inside. I told him to tidy up… I never imagined it would turn out like this…”
“Aiden.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Killian took a water bucket from Aiden, dumping the contents over his own head.
“I’ll go in.”
There was no time for hesitation.
Without replying, Killian turned toward the warehouse and took a firm step forward.
Damn it. He’d assigned John an easy task, respecting the boy’s wish to remain in the North.
He’d known from the start that John stayed because of Nael.
He knew they were close.
But his own selfish desire to keep them apart had driven him to post John at the weapons storage.
He’d given it the false importance of guarding crucial supplies, when in truth, he just didn’t want John visible from Nael’s window.
He cursed his short-sightedness.
He hoped Nael wouldn’t cry for John.
There was only one thought in Killian’s mind.
“Nael! No!”
Aiden’s voice rang out just as Killian stepped into the burning building.
“Damn it,” Aiden cursed, catching Nael as he broke down, screaming.
Nael thrashed in Aiden’s grip, sobbing uncontrollably like a child.
Despite the biting cold, Nael had run out wearing only a thin indoor shirt.
His cheeks were flushed red from the wind.
‘I’ll be back soon.’
Killian mouthed silently.
The roaring fire swallowed him whole.
“No… no… hic… Master…”
The moment Killian entered, everyone doubled their efforts to extinguish the flames.
They moved in sync, pouring water, and slowly the blaze began to recede.
But when one of the warehouse’s wooden pillars began to groan and tilt, the atmosphere turned tense.
“Hurry!”
“His Grace is inside! Move faster!”
Even the women didn’t hesitate, dousing the fire with buckets of water.
The flames weakened, but the danger hadn’t passed.
“M-Master is still… still in there… hic…”
Nael’s legs wouldn’t move.
Was his heart still beating?
Was this another nightmare?
He shoved at Aiden in denial.
“Sir Aiden…”
“Wait. His Grace will return.”
“But… it’s a fire! This isn’t a battlefield… He has to—”
“Damn it, Nael. Don’t you get it? Do you not understand why His Grace went in? John’s still inside. If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t have lifted a finger over some warehouse burning down.”
Nael felt like the sky was crashing down on him.
Then the ground surged up beneath his feet.
He lost balance in a wave of dizziness, and Aiden caught his collapsing body.
Nael scrambled on the freezing ground, his limbs too weak to support him.
The burning hut from his dream rose up in his mind.
As the air grew thin, his breathing became labored.
Aiden’s voice calling his name rang distant and muffled.
Dragged up by the waist, Nael kicked and struggled.
“Let me go!”
Aiden took every punch and kick without complaint.
“Believe. He’ll return. That fire’s nothing for His Grace,” he said over and over, like a mantra, but Nael only screamed back like a wild, wounded animal.
Another pillar gave out with a loud, agonizing creak.
Ah…!
Cries of despair broke out all around them.
As time passed, anxiety mounted.
Though the flames had been mostly contained, the heat from inside still radiated fiercely.
“Sir Aiden, Lord Nael—”
Upon hearing the news, Ren rushed in, breathless.
Aiden handed Nael over to him.
But even together, they struggled to restrain him—Nael was still resisting with everything he had.
“I’ll have to go in.”
* * *
