Chapter 8
For four days, Crystal spent her time with a pounding heart. The plan had gone awry, and she couldn’t get in touch with Marianne. It was probably because of the blizzard.
The communication orb infused with magic flickered and went dark again. She had paid dearly for it, yet it was useless in the one situation where she truly needed it.
Should she run away? The thought had crossed her mind, but outside, even to the naked eye, huge flakes of snow were swirling violently. If Crystal stepped outside, she wouldn’t last an hour before freezing solid.
Illian, who had taken the oath letter, never sought her out. She ate her meals alone and met no one else in the castle. Not even the Grand Duke. Only once a day did Damian check on her.
Spending days shut up in one room was nothing new. Whenever her family threw a party, Crystal feared bumping into unfamiliar outsiders and refused to leave her room.
It wasn’t boring. Just imagining dozens, even hundreds, of possible futures was enough to make her heart pound to the point of driving her mad.
That was why Crystal did not notice the person who returned through the blizzard on the third night of Januar.
“Jenny has arrived,” Illian, standing by the window, said. Damian, who had been buried in paperwork, lifted his head.
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“With this much snow outside… well, it’s Jenny, so I suppose it makes sense.”
Now was Januar—the perfect season to freeze to death. Even Illian, who was abnormally resistant to the cold, refrained from going outside during this time of year. If you didn’t freeze to death, you’d die stuck in the snow.
It was the season when the entire North went into hibernation.
And yet, there were exceptions. The Pentlin Castle’s cook, Jenny, was one such case.
She didn’t use tricks; she simply trudged through the blizzard with her whole body exposed to the snow. It was a reckless method that no one in their right mind would recommend. Damian darted out and brought her in almost flying.
“Welcome back.”
“Grand Duke! I heard that young lady came!”
Jenny’s cheeks were red from the cold as she shook off the snow. She was one of the few who spoke informally to Illian. If anyone from another noble family had seen it, they might have been appalled, but in Pentlin, it wasn’t unusual.
“I never imagined she’d rush over as soon as the betrothal letter was received. Do you know how shocked I was when I heard? If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone away. That’s why I came back earlier than planned. It’s freezing outside.”
“Jenny. Please, change your clothes first, or you’ll catch a cold.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m sturdy—besides that, I’m practically a corpse.”
“You really will end up a corpse at this rate.”
Damian shot her a sharp look, trying to persuade her. Snow melting off her clothes had already drenched the fabric. Jenny might be strong, but she wasn’t invincible. True, experience suggested she rarely got sick, but the chance wasn’t zero.
The two of them bickered. Illian, however, saw no need to force Jenny to change clothes if she didn’t want to, though he did find the snow pooling at her feet troublesome.
“Enough, both of you. Let’s just call Mel.”
“I’ll fetch her,” Damian said and hurried off.
Jenny hesitated briefly, then brushed it aside and looked at Illian, scanning the room as if searching for someone.
“I didn’t see her on the way here, and she’s not here either. That girl—Crystal, was it? Where is she?”
“She’s in her room. She hasn’t come out.”
“You haven’t gone to see her?”
“Why would I?”
Crystal’s room was under watch. Illian had at least refrained from spying or eavesdropping inside—that was the last courtesy he allowed.
The castle was wrapped in wards woven by Mel and Milo. He couldn’t know exactly what Crystal did to pass her time, but he had noticed she’d attempted to use a scroll. For an ordinary person, such scrolls weren’t cheap—she must have prepared it in advance.
The attempt had failed. First, because of the wards, and second, because of the blizzard. The only scroll Crystal could have tried to use was a communication scroll.
Ordinarily, letting her contact someone outside and then intercepting it would have been more profitable. But the blizzard was beyond even Illian’s control.
Still, he knew enough. Was there really any reason to seek her out?
Illian thought not, but Jenny seemed to disagree. She frowned.
“So you just left her alone? She came all this way, knows no one here, and you let her be lonely by herself?”
“She’s probably more comfortable alone. Didn’t Damian tell you?”
“He gave me the gist on the way up. Honestly, I thought you were interested in her. But you just left her like that?!”
Grumbling, Jenny stripped off her wet outerwear and draped it over a chair, revealing comparatively drier layers beneath. Jenny, who felt the cold easily, wore more clothes than anyone else. From within three layers, she pulled out a bulky parcel and handed it over.
“But it’s strange. She’s stayed locked in her room all this time? Is she shy? From her looks, I wouldn’t be surprised if some man marched right in and asked her to marry him. She looks lively and spirited.”
“You’ve seen her?”
“Only in a portrait. Open it. An informant sent an urgent message. He got stuck at the Pentlin border, so I picked it up for him. Lucky he recognized my face—otherwise I’d have had to take it by force.”
She almost certainly did take it by force. No informant worth his salt would hand information over just for recognizing someone.
But lively and spirited?
Illian pictured Crystal: deathly pale skin, frail body, quiet demeanor better suited to embroidery indoors. That was far more accurate. Perhaps the portrait had been embellished.
Illian opened the bundle. Despite the bulky wrapping, inside were only a few sheets of paper. The rest was padding.
One page stood out: on clean white paper, a young woman with a faint smile. Illian’s eyes trembled.
“See? Didn’t I tell you?” Jenny said, leaning in to look with him.
She was right. The woman in the portrait had a lively impression. Wide eyes, a cheeky smile, even freckles across her nose. She looked like the sort to laugh loudly while running through fields.
But that wasn’t what mattered to Illian. Setting down the portrait, he skimmed the rest of the papers quickly.
“The Lottery family is looking for their youngest daughter. They don’t want the shame of announcing it openly, so they hired informants. Whoever painted this portrait—what was meant to be a likeness has now turned into a wanted poster.”
“…”
“I like this girl. Don’t you, Grand Duke? I can’t wait to meet her in person. Honestly, I wish I hadn’t seen the portrait—it would’ve been fresher.”
Jenny chuckled, imagining the chaos in the Lottery household. Their quiet youngest daughter’s first act had turned into a scandal that upended the whole family.
“You stopped reading there.”
Illian, having read to the end, flipped the paper face down. His gloved hand tapped it silently.
“You don’t need to worry. It will be fresh.”
“Huh?”
“Because this girl isn’t Crystal.”
Jenny’s eyes went wide. Illian had to steady his breath to keep from laughing.
The report wasn’t about Crystal—it was about Julia. The portrait belonged to Julia, not the Lottery family’s youngest daughter.
When Julia’s portrait was circulated, one of the informants happened to be from the East. He’d felt a sense of familiarity, followed his instincts back east, and confirmed it was correct.
He discovered Julia was from his own hometown. Better still, he found Hans and Marianne in the next village over. A jackpot.
Later, when Mel and Damian returned, they too saw the portrait. Mel couldn’t tell, but Damian, having seen Crystal in person, recognized immediately that it wasn’t her. After Illian explained briefly, Damian shut his eyes tight.
“So the father doesn’t even know his own daughter’s face.”
“Exactly. We weren’t the only ones lacking information about Crystal.”
“Could this Julia woman be connected to the Lotterys?” Mel asked while patting Jenny’s clothes dry with scrolls. Illian shook his head.
“No relation. She’s lived in that village all her life with her family. The blood ties are real.”
“She’s the niece of Crystal’s nanny. Apparently, she sometimes traveled back with her aunt after visits, though she never said where…”
“She went to the Lottery estate, then!”
“Mel’s right. She must’ve stayed with Crystal in the annex.”
Illian covered his mouth. The glove had no warmth, almost the same temperature as his skin. At last, things made sense.
The rumors about ghosts haunting Crystal’s residence. Servants insisted she stayed in her room. The tale began because someone had seen her where she shouldn’t have been. But if Julia had been with Crystal, then there could’ve been two of her at once.
The “Crystal” the servant thought they saw had actually been Julia. Then later, in the hallway, they’d run into the real Crystal. Or vice versa—but since the “ghost’s” appearance resembled Crystal more closely than Julia, that was the likely case.
“So even her family doesn’t know her face. …Then could the young lady here not be Crystal after all?!” Jenny exclaimed.
This time, Damian shook his head.
“You’d know at once upon meeting her. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Anyone could tell she’s Lottery blood.”
“She’s not using magic to disguise herself either! I can vouch for that.”
Blonde hair that shone like fire under sunlight and blue eyes like melted sky—traits so distinct they were the Lottery family’s emblem.
There were Lotterys who didn’t inherit both, but never someone outside who had both. Unless one changed their features with magic, having those traits alone meant recognition as Lottery blood. Crystal, too, bore them unmistakably.
“Then why didn’t she even show her face to her family? Was there anything unusual about her?” Jenny asked. Illian and Damian exchanged glances.
“Not that I saw. She looked frail, but her weak health was already well-known. Nothing peculiar…”
“I agree. She seemed naive, but considering her sheltered life, that was natural.”
“Now I really want to meet her. That’s why I braved this blizzard in the first place!”
“If you go, knock at the door—not the window,” Damian warned.
While the three of them chatted, Illian sank into quiet thought.
In the darkness of his mind, Crystal sat before him, greeting him calmly. The Crystal he’d met had always worn her thoughts openly on her face. But the Crystal in his imagination looked cold, unreadable.
Crystal was suspicious. And yet, innocent. Strange—and interesting.
Illian smiled faintly. Her story was riddled with contradictions. She sought her father’s approval but insisted she couldn’t meet him. She claimed she came for love, but said she didn’t love. She accepted a proposal, yet didn’t want marriage.
“This is something I’ll have to ask her myself. Directly.”
