There were no assassins or bandits in hiding.
But the Duke didn’t relax so easily.
The servants, shivering in the snowstorm, were ordered to search the area.
“…Over here! I found something!”
It took a while before someone shouted.
It was the servant who had climbed up the carriage to check if a rock had fallen on top.
He jumped down, holding a black crow in his hand.
“Looks like a hunter was nearby.”
An arrow—snapped in half—was stuck in the bird’s wing.
The servant tugged at the arrow, but it was frozen solid along with the wing. It wouldn’t budge.
“It’s stiff. Must’ve frozen to death.”
The servants sighed in relief.
‘Good. That means we can move again.’
Any more delay, and some of them might have frozen to death like that crow.
Duke Caribou said nothing.
He just stared quietly at the unmoving bird.
Everyone thought maybe his crazy paranoia was finally calming down now that there was “proof” of nothing suspicious.
So, behind their silent master, the servants carefully began preparing to move again.
The servant with the crow tossed the dead bird behind him as he returned to his carriage.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The Duke’s voice cut through the air, cold as ice.
“Eh? M-my lord?”
The servant flinched, heart dropping to his stomach as the Duke strode toward him.
“H-Heck…”
He collapsed to his knees in panic.
Not because he knew exactly what he’d done wrong, but because he didn’t want his head chopped off.
“I-I’m sorry! Please, spare my life!”
But the Duke’s steps didn’t slow. His sword at his side gleamed faintly, as if urging him to draw it.
“Eek!”
One of the maids screamed, sure blood was about to be spilled.
The servant, begging with his hands pressed together, shut his eyes tight.
…
But time passed, and no sword was drawn.
The Duke’s heavy footsteps went right past him.
The servant cracked one eye open and saw the Duke walk into the forest instead.
Under a frost-covered tree lay the crow, where it had been tossed.
The Duke picked it up in one hand and came back.
His sharp eyes scanned the group, and his glare was so intense it was like he had hunted the bird himself.
“Never throw away something suspicious. You don’t decide whether this arrow belonged to a hunter or not.”
“S-sorry, my lord. I wasn’t thinking.”
Ignoring the terrified servants, Duke Leonard Caribou gave his order.
“Back to the castle. As fast as possible.”
The carriages started rolling again as soon as he climbed aboard.
His large hand wrapped around the crow.
Unlike normal people, his body temperature was unusually warm.
The icy feathers softened as the heat spread.
Slowly, the fierce light in his eyes dimmed.
“…Still alive.”
His senses were sharp enough to feel it—
a faint heartbeat still thumping inside the crow that everyone else thought was dead.
[Ugh…]
When Isadora came to, she was inside a cage.
Her blurry eyes looked past the iron bars.
Expensive furniture. A ceiling covered in intricate designs.
Outside the window, a blizzard raged.
Inside the room, half a dozen maids were busy cleaning.
They scrubbed the polished floor, too focused to notice the crow opening its eyes.
Isadora was exhausted, her whole body aching.
She lay on a soft cushion, blinking tiredly.
[…Where am I? What day is it?]
She’d never seen such a fancy castle before.
Why was she here?
Wait. She hadn’t… possessed some noble’s pet parrot, right?
Her memory was fuzzy, returning bit by bit.
She remembered flying to Count Proud’s castle, spying on Jeanne and Pedro, and laughing about her article.
Then stumbling on an unexpected, huge scoop.
Oh, right—the scoop!
Her mind snapped awake.
[Wait, I need to get back!]
“Caaaw!”
She sprang up, screeching.
[Without me, Isadora McDorr, the Black Bird Daily can’t even publish!]
After all, the entire “newspaper company” was just her.
— Clatter!
She tried to break out of the cage.
But since it was hanging on a stand, the whole thing toppled, and she hit the ground with a painful thud.
[Oww…]
It felt like her body was a fragile glass jar about to shatter.
Groaning, she managed to push herself up.
“What… what’s that?!”
Finally, the cleaning stopped.
The maids stared, eyes wide with shock and fear, at the giant crow glaring back at them.
Isadora froze under their suspicious gazes.
Then suddenly, she snapped open her beak and lunged forward.
— Flap flap!
“Kyaaah! It’s scary, get it away!”
The maids shrieked and ran.
If she had been a normal-sized crow, maybe they’d have called her cute.
But Isadora was bigger than average—closer to a young owl’s size.
And her pale, fish-like eyes glinted with a strange madness.
“Caw! Cawww!”
Her screeches only terrified them more.
“What’s going on here?!”
Hearing the commotion, more servants rushed in—
and nearly fainted at the sight of the freshly cleaned room now covered in black feathers.
Isadora used the chaos to dart between their legs and out the door.
“Catch it!”
But the crow was fast and slippery, weaving under tables and chairs like they were trenches.
Sometimes she faked left, then shot right, confusing them.
Soon, feathers drifted all over the once-pristine hallway.
She deliberately went after the younger maids, brushing against their legs.
“Kyaaah!”
They shrieked, thinking she’d peck them, blocking the way of anyone chasing her.
One maid dropped a bucket. Soapy water spilled across the floor.
The pursuers slipped and crashed one after another.
— Thud! Crash!
The hallway turned into a disaster zone.
[What a mess…] Isadora muttered shamelessly, even though she caused all of it.
But she was confused too.
Where was she?
How much time had passed?
Her last memory was leaping off a cliff to escape the hunter.
[For now, I just need to get away.]
She could figure out the details later.
Turning a corner, she spotted a half-open door and slipped inside, hiding behind it.
“Oh no… how are we going to clean all that up?”
“Forget that—catch the bird first! Who knows what it’ll do next!”
The drenched servants shuffled past, too busy panicking to notice her.
Phew. Safe.
Catching her breath, Isadora looked around the room.
‘Whose castle is this, anyway? It’s huge.’
She remembered the long line of carriages she had seen before falling.
Maybe the owner had saved her.
Judging by the size and grandeur, it had to belong to some very high-ranking noble.
‘If I can just dig up some juicy gossip before I escape…’
Even now, she was thinking about her next article.
As she stepped further inside, the room filled with steam.
She shook her head at the heavy humidity.
This wasn’t a normal room—it was connected to a bathhouse.
Someone had clearly just finished bathing, leaving thick steam behind.
‘If it’s a bathhouse, there should be a vent I can slip through.’
She tiptoed in like an assassin.
But luck wasn’t on her side.
Her wet claws made splashing sounds on the damp floor.
That’s when she saw it—a shadow emerging from the mist.
Her pupils widened.
Through the fragrant, steamy air, a broad, triangular shape moved.
Slowly expanding and contracting.
A man’s back.
Above a towel-wrapped waist, powerful back muscles rippled.
Wings of muscle spread like a predator’s, his broad shoulders towering.
Isadora was entranced.
Her wings twitched, and before she realized it, she flapped forward—drawn by instinct she couldn’t resist.
