Labored breaths escaped me ragged, shallow, and sharp. I hadn't even begun my second life properly, yet here I was, already knocking on death's door.
The acrid stench of blood and rot clung to the frigid cold air, seeping in through the splintered wood of the ruined carriage. Outside, muffled voices and rustling movements echoed, too distant to comprehend. My fingers trembled; my body numb.
I hated the cold.
I hated winter.
But I hated this helplessness even more.
I can't die here. Not yet.
Someone... please...
Was it a concussion? Blood loss? Exhaustion?
Everything felt like a blur.
And then I heard it. Wood being torn apart. Someone no, something—was prying open the wreckage.
White hair...?
If anything happens to me, I swear I'll curse him to the ends of the world—
Those were my last words before consciousness slipped away.
"Hey, you! Hurry up and get this girl to my tent—call the physician immediately!"
A pounding headache welcomed me back into the waking world. My eyes fluttered open, greeted by the rhythmic sound of hooves galloping against the snow-covered path. A blurry silhouette beside me gradually sharpened—an older man with striking white hair, seated with practiced ease as he guided the reins of the horse-drawn sleigh.
His features were too refined for his age. Annoyingly so.
"You're awake," he said flatly, eyes never leaving the path ahead. "Don't move your head like that you'll fall and break your neck."
Startled, I froze. A low chuckle rumbled from him.
"We'll arrive soon. So, hold off on gawking until then, little brat."
Obnoxious old man...
As the towering castle gates opened before us, the sleigh came to a halt. He dismounted with practiced grace, while I remained stiff, clinging to the saddle for dear life. If I fell from this height in my current state, I might actually die this time.
With surprising care, he steadied me with one arm while addressing a nearby servant.
"Your Grace, you've returned safely. A banquet invitation has arrived from the Imperial Palace...it's from the Second Prince."
The old man His Grace? I let out a weary sigh.
"That shallow boy has nothing better to do than celebrate death in winter..."
"Y-Your Grace," the servant stammered, "such words about the Sun of the Empire..."
They conversed a while longer, but my ears perked when some servant shifted its attention to me.
"Hmm?"
"May I ask, who is that young lady with you, Your Grace?"
said by some guy..
I peeked at him from behind the man's broad shoulders.
"Y-YOUR GRACE! I-IS THAT YOUR CHIL—"
Theron carefull with your words—!
The old butler coldly cut off the guy's word in a silent dead tone
what is this lonely tension...
I looked up at the white-haired man again. From afar... I suppose we did look related. The hair. The sharp eyes. And damn it, his face was unfairly good-looking. He could pass for an idol.
He met my eyes briefly. "Satisfied with my face now, brat?"
This man—!
"Y-your Grace I apologize of my behavior"
"Theron," he called out to the servant, "bathe this child, feed her, and throw her out by morning. I don't have time to babysit again."
"Yes your Grace"
"WHAT?!"
Is this old man insane?! Throwing out a child into the dead of winter!?
He handed me off to the tall servant Theron and turned to walk away. Panic surged within me, and without thinking, I clung to his coat, my trembling fingers gripping the fabric with desperate strength.
For a moment, I hung there, swaying like a thin wire suspended between two poles. How humiliating this must have looked….really….
But in this moment, survival comes first–!
"W-wait… Th-this feews wong… I-I hab... provasal...!"
(wait…*incoherent speech* I have a proposal)
Damn this baby tongue! I winced as everyone around me fell silent, their expressions unreadable….and to tell you I was still hanging like a rope ( :] ) …
The old man blinked.
"Please…"
…
A beat passed.
Then, without a word, he scooped me up once more and strode into the castle.
Inside, he issued brief commands to an elderly woman—perhaps the head maid—and gestured toward the long corridor ahead.
"Prepare a proper room and a bath for her after dinner," he said.
We walked in silence until he opened the doors to a grand dining hall. The warmth hit me first. Then the sight of food—glorious, steaming food—laid out across the table.
!!
He sat me in the seat beside him, cut a piece of steak, and placed it onto my plate. When he began eating, I hesitantly reached for my fork with trembling fingers.
Clack.
It slipped and hit the plate. My hands wouldn't stop shaking…
Maybe the aftermath of what I had faintly seen is now crashing into my mind—
The bloodbath staining the white snow, the thick, iron-scented air of death lingering like a curse.
But in my fragile state, my mind—the mind of a child still untainted by the brutality of the world—was far too delicate to comprehend such horrors. That battlefield had been a nightmare, its viciousness beyond anything this innocent body could endure.
W-why...
I looked up at the Duke—yes, he must be a duke—and found him watching quietly. Without a word, he motioned for a maid to clear the mess. Then... he held out his fork with a piece of steak.
My pride was forgotten due to hunger, so I opened my mouth.
The taste was faint. Dull. But the warmth...
I didn't even realize I was crying until I felt the hot tears trail down both cheeks. I clutched at the edges of my ragged dress, my shoulders trembling.
Why am I crying?
I still couldn't taste the food.
My senses remained numb.
Maybe it was the warmth.
The quiet.
The kindness I didn't expect.
The Duke sat beside me in silence, his presence unwavering as the soft sniffles from my lips filled the quiet air. Without a word, he continued to feed me, his actions steady and unhurried, as the warmth of the meal contrasted sharply with the coldness outside.
"Don't hold back," he said calmly, never once glancing in my direction. But those simple words, spoken with such quiet assurance, offered more comfort than I could have ever expected.
Maybe, deep down, I was still a child—still yearning for something more than survival.
The cold outside had been unbearable, but at this moment... This strange, unfamiliar warmth filled a deeper void.
This sense of familiarity