* * *
Sacre was an isolated island far from the Empire.
Despite its abundant resources, conflict erupted between the native inhabitants and the nobles who arrived to exploit the mines.
Some natives adapted by becoming servants to the incoming nobles, embracing new customs.
Instead of their traditional nomadic lifestyle, they began forming villages and constructing stone buildings they had never built before.
While some embraced the change, others clung to tradition.
The southern region was a stronghold for these traditionalists, remaining the least influenced by external forces due to its distance from the port.
When Jean was discovered on the southern shore, his strikingly beautiful appearance and lack of memory led some natives to suspect he might be a sea spirit luring people into the water.
Awakening on the shore, Jean stared at the vast ocean.
“I feel like I promised to see this sea with someone…”
Even in his state of uncertainty about his identity or why he was there, a blurry face surfaced in his mind.
But every time he tried to recall it, a searing headache followed.
Eventually, Jean stopped trying to remember altogether.
If someone had abandoned him on this island, they likely didn’t care about him.
“Fine. There’s no need to remember anything. Nothing at all…”
Though life in Sacre was peaceful, Jean was plagued by inexplicable nightly pain.
It turned out to be growing pains.
Within months, Jean grew 10 centimeters taller, his voice deepened, and faint traces of body hair began to appear.
Transitioning from boyhood, Jean drew the attention of local girls.
But Jean, who found girls particularly daunting, focused solely on hunting and books.
By day, he helped children study at the library; by night, he hunted in the fields with his bow.
‘I need to hurry.’
Back at the cabin, Jean stopped as he noticed something.
The pocket watch, which he had always kept on the mantle, lay on the floor.
Alongside the note bearing his name, it was the only item he had on him when he was found.
Though broken, with a cracked exterior and frozen hands, Jean couldn’t bring himself to discard the pocket watch.
As he reached for it, feeling as if a memory was about to resurface, a loud knock on the door startled him.
“Jean, Jean! Open up!”
The voice belonged to Parin, a Sacre girl who had helped Jean adjust to life here.
Being close in age, they got along well, and their shared love for books and archery had bridged Jean’s usual unease around girls.
Jean opened the door to find Parin’s pale face staring back at him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“A carriage from the Howard family was attacked by white wolves!”
“White wolves? Aren’t they supposed to stay in the western woods?”
“The west is being developed, remember? They must have moved south to avoid humans. What should we do? If the noble gets hurt or killed…”
Parin’s voice trembled with worry, clearly fearing the loss of the library’s crucial support.
Placing a steady hand on her shoulder, Jean spoke calmly.
“Well, there’s no way a sheltered noble could fend off white wolves.”
“…”
“Shall we go help them?”
Parin’s face lit up instantly as she nodded.
Smiling faintly, Jean adjusted his bow and began walking.
From the direction of the forest, the haunting howls of wolves echoed through the air.
✽ ✽ ✽
When Jean and Parin arrived at the southern forest, they followed the footprints in the snow, tracking the white wolf.
Known to be among the most vicious and temperamental of magical beasts, the white wolf had also lost its habitat to development.
It was undoubtedly starving by now.
Struggling to keep up, Parin panted heavily before his legs gave way, causing him to stumble.
Jean immediately reached out, grabbing Parin’s hand to steady him.
“Are you okay? Want me to carry you?”
“N-No, it’s fine. I feel bad for tagging along and slowing you down.”
“Don’t say that. You’re way better at archery than I am.”
Parin laughed awkwardly, his breath forming a puff of white mist in the freezing air.
The two pressed on, their faces tinged red from the cold, until they both stopped in their tracks.
Blood spattered across the pristine snow, and scattered around were the lifeless bodies of mercenaries, seemingly mauled to death by the white wolf.
Jean’s face hardened as he realized the gravity of the situation.
‘If even the mercenaries ended up like this, there’s no way the employer survived.’
Jan exhaled a heavy sigh as he surveyed the corpses.
To make matters worse, the snowstorm was growing fiercer.
He made a quick decision, thinking they needed to locate the noble from the Howard family as their priority.
“Parin, this is too much for just the two of us. Go back and get reinforcements. I’ll head to the carriage and see if there are any survivors.”
“O-Okay!”
Nodding hastily, Parin hurried downhill.
The moment Parin left, Jean continued following the wolf’s tracks.
The deeper he went into the forest, the more bodies he came across.
‘Why did they come here in person? They could’ve just sent someone else.’
According to Cheryl, after Duke Michael Howard’s untimely and suspicious death, his son inherited the title.
Rumors were spreading that the son had murdered his father.
Whether true or not, the accusation was unsettling.
Breaking a branch to mark his path, Jean blew out a breath that stonelized in the icy air.
‘What was the new head’s name again? Cheryl mentioned it, but…’
As Jean tried to recall the name, he froze in his tracks.
A broken carriage wheel lay on the ground, the carriage itself overturned nearby, and the area was surrounded by a pack of white wolves.
The wolves growled menacingly upon spotting Jean, slowly rising to their feet.
Retreating step by step, Jean gripped his bow with trembling hands.
‘Damn it, there are too many of them.’
The wolves’ white fur, stained red with human blood, made for a terrifying sight.
Jean was certain they would pounce the moment he turned his back.
Just as the tension reached its peak, a man casually walked past Jan, startling him.
The man was tall and solidly built, in stark contrast to the smaller and more slender Sacres people.
His face was strikingly beautiful, like something out of a painting, but it was smeared with blood of unknown origin.
Yet, what caught Jan’s attention were the man’s ash-gray eyes—lifeless and cold, devoid of any light, as though he were a walking corpse.
When their gazes met, Jean instinctively recoiled under the weight of the man’s icy stare.
‘No way… Could this be him?’
The man clicked his tongue at the wolves, and, as if bewitched, the feral creatures immediately rolled onto their backs, exposing their bellies in submission. It wasn’t just shocking; it was surreal.
Jean frowned.
“If you could tame them, why let the mercenaries die?”
“It would’ve been rude to take their job,” the man replied, his tone laced with a faint amusement.
“They died because you didn’t help them.”
“No, they died because they failed to do their job.”
The man’s voice was calm, but there was an air of dissonance about him—his finely tailored clothing, now drenched in blood, only added to the unease he exuded.
Stroking the wolves, the man asked nonchalantly, “Is there somewhere nearby to stay?”
“…?”
“The carriage is wrecked, and I hurt my arm a little,” he said, gesturing casually.
Jan hesitated, his eyes darting as he weighed his options.
Something about this man screamed danger, far beyond what one would expect of a clueless noble.
“Why did you decide to sponsor the Sacres children?” Jean finally asked.
“…”
“If you wanted to help, there were plenty of other places, like the capital.”
Jean’s curiosity stemmed from the fact that this man was the greatest benefactor of the Sacres children.
Hundreds of them had survived an epidemic thanks to the Howard family’s support.
The man’s enigmatic smile lingered as he responded, “What do you think?”
“Your ex-wife was from Sacres, wasn’t she?”
“Wow, sharp. Close enough.”
The man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood off his face.
He seemed lost in thought for a moment before asking in a detached tone, “By the way, who was the girl with you earlier?”
Caught off guard, Jean turned to face him.
The man wasn’t even looking at Jean as he posed the question.
Perplexed, Jean tilted his head.
“Do I have to tell you?”
“Did you sleep with her?”
“What? Are you insane? She’s like a little sister to me.”
“Hmm, you never know. This place is pretty isolated.”
Jean scowled at the man’s audacity.
Despite his best efforts to hold his composure, the man’s behavior grated on him.
It felt like dealing with a domesticated predator, just barely restrained.
“You’ve got a terrible personality, you know that? What’s your problem?” Jean snapped.
“You’d be like this too if you lost your wife.”
Jean fell silent.
There was nothing to say to that.
A shadow of grief, unique to those who had lost something precious, hung over the man.
Slowly, he closed the distance between them, causing Jean to tense up.
“By the way, about us…”
Standing in front of Jan, the man leaned down slightly, his large hand cupping Jean’s frostbitten cheek.
The unexpected touch left Jean frozen, utterly confused.
Watching Jan’s reaction closely, the man’s voice dropped.
“Have we met before?”
Jean hesitated, his gaze searching the man’s face.
For a fleeting moment, something shifted in his expression.
After a long pause, Jean finally spoke.
“Jerome.”
Hearing his name, Jerome’s lips parted slightly.
Snowflakes swirled around them as the storm intensified.
* * *
If Jean, recovers his memory now, that would be great!!