The journey to the Grand Duchy took more than half a month if the carriage traveled without rest.
Since Psyche wanted to reach the Grand Duchy as quickly as possible, the carriage carrying them pressed forward without pause.
Even so, the man occasionally stopped the carriage to help Psyche adjust to the gradually colder air.
“We’re almost there.”
Upon hearing the man’s notice, Psyche stepped out of the carriage and looked up to see the plains covered in white snow.
> “It feels like I’ve come to another world.”
At that moment, the cold wind tickled the tip of her nose. Each gust, accompanied by snowflakes, pierced through her body like a chill.
Her hands and feet curled inward, and hot breath puffed visibly between her lips.
In front of the biting wind swirling with cold, Psyche, for the first time in her life, felt both helpless and strangely thrilled. A paradoxical feeling, but so it was.
“The fevers here are rather harsh. If you catch one, you might live with a chronic cough for the rest of your life.”
The man said without hesitation as he draped a thick coat over Psyche’s shoulders.
“Thank you.”
Upon arriving at the Grand Duchy, Psyche instantly realized she would fall in love with this place.
The snow-covered land looked like something out of a fairy tale, as if a snow spirit had cast a spell.
The untouched snow made her feel a childish desire to be the first to leave footprints on it.
“Is this your first time seeing snow?”
“Yes, it is. I’ve heard it occasionally snows in the Imperial capital, but I’ve never been there while it snowed.”
“I see. This kind of scenery is a daily sight here. I’m glad you seem to like it, Miss Clement.”
A faint smile crossed the man’s face, visible just beyond the white breath that rose in the cold.
Each time the wind blew, his neatly trimmed black hair swayed gently, brushing past his eyebrows.
Psyche thought the man—who had always felt cold to her—strangely suited this place.
“I always thought the North was barren. Now that I see it… I realize how foolish my prejudice was.”
Psyche spoke with a noticeably lighter voice. Her nose had turned red from the cold air.
The man’s blue eyes slid gently over the bridge of her nose.
“Are you cold?”
“To be honest… yes, I am.”
The breathtaking scenery had softened Psyche’s guarded heart.
The man nodded indifferently at her answer, then flung open the carriage door and held out his hand to her.
“This will be your home, Miss Clement.”
His words implied she need not rush.
“Mm, yes. I suppose I’ll have plenty of time to explore it.”
Psyche slowly removed the coat draped over her shoulders.
She intended to fold it neatly and hand it to him with a word of thanks, but the man took it from her naturally before she could.
“…Thank you.”
As she murmured her thanks, he gently curled his lips into a smile.
So he knows how to smile like that, too.
His expression looked softer now, white and clean like the snow.
But that was all.
Psyche brushed away her thoughts of him and turned to climb into the carriage.
Just as she placed her foot on the step, the carriage tilted and collapsed to the ground. One of the wheels rolled off across the snowy field.
“…Ah!”
As she lost her balance and nearly fell, a warm body caught her from behind.
It was none other than the man’s chest that supported her.
“Are you alright?”
Realizing she was leaning into him, Psyche quickly stood upright on her own feet.
Neigh—!
At that moment, a horse neighed loudly, and they saw the coachman collapsed on the ground.
It seemed he had lost consciousness even before the carriage gave out, as he fell silently like a lifeless doll.
Psyche moved to help him—or rather, she tried to.
If not for the hand gripping her wrist.
“Miss Clement.”
She finally reacted to the man speaking her name.
Beyond his shoulder, where light snow had begun to fall, the atmosphere was shifting.
> “Surround the carriage immediately!”
Blink. Blink.
Each time she blinked, the shouting voices grew closer.
> “Only take the woman alive! Kill everything else! Don’t forget—she must stay breathing!”
Psyche looked at the messenger in shock.
In contrast to the chaos, he looked calm. As if feeling her gaze, he gently let go of her wrist.
“Pardon me.”
The messenger looked into her eyes with a gentle smile.
As their eyes met, he asked:
“Miss Clement, have you made any enemies?”
“Me? Enemies?”
It was an absurd question.
But Psyche gave it some thought.
She had clearly heard the order to “take the woman alive,” and she must be the woman they were referring to.
Noble society was small. In the Empire, it was common to cross paths again in a different form.
That’s why she had always turned down marriage proposals kindly, to avoid future trouble.
But not everything could be solved peacefully.
Their target was Psyche—and the one who could have orchestrated such a thing…
> The Marquess of Erisichthon.
The one whose gaze slithered across her like a silent snake.
Just thinking of those chilling eyes made her stomach churn.
“They’re the type who often appear in the snowy mountains. They have bases near the border and commit all sorts of vile acts. They’ve probably been watching since before we stopped here.”
“Did they sabotage the wheel too?”
“Most likely.”
“…They’re getting closer.”
The horses galloped across the snow straight toward Psyche.
She saw their faces, heard their voices, and saw the weapons they waved threateningly as they rode.
“It’s not Miss Psyche’s fault that pests followed her. Let’s find out who’s behind them.”
The messenger spoke calmly.
But the thugs threatening Psyche were already near.
Their eyes, noses, mouths—one even had a deep scar stretching from his lips to his sideburns.
The skin around the cut flapped grotesquely, as if sliced by a sharp tool.
They were now close enough that she could see every detail.
One of them locked eyes with Psyche and grinned.
> “So you’re the swan of the Cigard Empire? Not bad. I’ll take her on my horse.”
Between his crooked teeth, sharp fangs jutted out. It was a chilling smile.
> I have to run.
Psyche started counting in her head and closed her eyes.
If she dashed in the opposite direction…
> “Miss Clement, this way.”
A low, ambiguous voice rang out.
At the same time, a warm touch spread through her wrist.
> “Phyton’s down!”
She opened her eyes at someone’s shout.
The first thing she saw was the man’s back—calm and unaffected, as though none of this concerned him.
His broad back blocked her view, almost as if protecting her.
Next, she saw one of the attackers—who had been charging toward her—fall to the ground, thrown from his horse.
And finally, she realized that it was the messenger’s sword that had resolved the situation.
“…D-Don’t come near! Aaagh!”
A scream of fear rang out—and then turned
into a silent one.
Thud.
Something dropped with a dull sound to the snow. The pristine field began to stain crimson.
Psyche finally realized what it was.
> “His… his tongue…”
She staggered and collapsed to the ground.
