The Snow Queen

“The program’s content was just so sad.”

“Ah… is that so?”

“Sorry. I must have been zoning out. Let’s go.”

Ray said this as he turned off the television with the remote. As I followed him to the dining room, I reflected. He cried because the program was sad?

Could that really be true?

I decided to look into it later. For now, the mission came first. We talked while we ate. It was quite enjoyable.

Ray liked hearing about the mischief from my childhood. Since I got to see him laugh so much, I willingly kept sharing embarrassing childhood stories. Of course, I made sure to omit certain details.

For example, I would excitedly talk about my victories in boxing matches but conveniently leave out the part where I almost got arrested for the opponent’s excessive injuries. Ray, knowing nothing, simply found it all amusing. When the mood was right, I casually asked him a question.

“But it feels like I’m the only one telling stories. I’d like to hear about your childhood, too.”

“Ah…”

Ray put down his glass.

“My childhood, well…”

“Hmm. You must have been busy with your magic lessons?”

“Pretty much. I stayed inside and just studied.”

That was odd. Where did he receive his lessons? Instead of beating around the bush, I asked him directly.

“I’ve actually been curious for a while. According to the information we gathered, your residence up until age seventeen is unknown. The only guess is your mentor Marata’s house, but she was said to live alone as an unmarried woman. So, where exactly were you living all that time? Don’t tell me you were invisible? Haha.”

“Hmm…”

Ray wiped his lips with a napkin, seemingly unbothered by the question.

“Your guess is right. I lived with Marata. Except for trips to the hospital, I never left the house, so even the neighbors probably didn’t know I existed. I spent my time studying magic in the attic. It was locked most of the time, and only Marata had the key.”

“I see.”

I barely managed to suppress my rising anger. He stayed locked up, studying magic in an attic that no one even knew about? Locked most of the time? That was practically imprisonment.

“When did you start living with Marata?”

“Since I was seven. She saved my life when I was on the verge of death. She was a strict mentor too. I got whipped daily and had to do fasting prayers for a week each month. She barely ever praised me. But I enjoyed it because I had a knack for studying.”

I was at a loss for words. As if being confined to an attic wasn’t bad enough, he was beaten and starved too? In that moment, Marata shot straight to the top of my personal “most hated people” list, knocking Manen off his throne.

No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t keep my anger from boiling over. In the end, I snapped bitterly.

“And despite making all that money, she didn’t leave her one and only disciple a single penny? That’s cold.”

“But she left me something more valuable than money. And she didn’t leave me completely empty-handed. I got my current apartment thanks to the money Marata left me. She also passed down her magic coat and bell. Most importantly, she taught me every bit of magic she knew. I have to be grateful for that.”

Ray smiled gently as he spoke. I just shrugged.

No matter how much Ray tried to defend Marata, it didn’t change anything for me. Whether she left nothing or a few coins, it made no difference. Just the fact that she kept him locked up in an attic made her nothing short of a witch who locked Rapunzel in a tower with no stairs.

And what’s this? I should be grateful because she passed down her magic and coat? Nonsense.

It was precisely because he learned that magic that Ray became Manen’s personal magician. And because of that damned coat, I didn’t recognize Ray and ended up making the fatal mistake of shooting at him. If he hadn’t inherited those things, Ray Arisa, the owner of a humble secondhand bookstore, would be happily living with Four Messara, the rich woman.

Well…

At least things worked out in the end.

Anyway, one mystery had been solved. I was tempted to probe further about that so-called king he once mentioned, but I decided now wasn’t the right time.

I observed Ray for a moment before casually throwing out the next question.

“So, don’t you want to train a successor, Ray? It would be a shame to keep such incredible magic all to yourself. Since you come from a long line of magicians, wouldn’t training a successor be your duty?”

“What?”

Ray paused mid-sip of water. I fixed him with a cold, steady gaze. There was no avoiding this topic. As Guiger Chief ‘Snake’, it was a matter I had to address at least once.

The officers still kept a wary eye on Ray, fearing the rise of a second Ryeong. Despite his timid and quiet nature, Ray had stepped into the world of political strife, of his own volition no less. We assumed his motive was revenge.

Given that, we couldn’t rule out the possibility that Ray might pass Ryeong’s magic to someone else who opposed the aristocrats. Until that possibility was fully eliminated, the so-called ‘Ryeong Incident’ remained an ongoing issue. Besides, Ray had immediately requested the return of the monk coat and bell that Guiger had confiscated the moment we reunited.

Ray slowly poked at his salad with a fork before speaking.

“Well, I can’t exactly raise Ryeong’s successor just because I want to.”

Surprised by his answer, I asked again, “What? What do you mean by that? Are you saying you need someone’s permission?”

“No, it’s not that. Hmm… How should I explain this? It’s such an absurd story that you probably won’t believe it.”

“Hmm? Well… Haha. There’s nothing more outrageous than the existence of Ryeong.”

“Is that so? Hahaha. Then let me explain. Ryeong is a group of shamans that came over from Siberia to the kingdom long ago. In other words, Ryeong’s sorcery is a combination of northern shamanism, which blossomed throughout Siberia, and European magic.”

“A fusion of Eastern and Western sorcery, then?”

“Something like that. …But the power that allows Ryeong to surpass ordinary shamans doesn’t come from European magic, but rather from the northern shamanism passed down from Siberia. And Siberian northern shamanism isn’t something that can be mastered simply through hard study. It requires a natural talent, a kind of chosen gift.”

The word ‘Orchitunica’ that the shamans had mentioned flashed through my mind. I continued to listen closely.

“In Siberia, those who wish to become a shaman fast and dream. During this time, they see a bird called the ferocious Mother Bird Spirit (猛禽代母鳥神) in their dreams. Like a totem animal, the Mother Bird Spirit tears off all of the flesh of the shaman except for their bones, then hangs their head from the end of a pole. It then reassembles the bones and attaches new flesh to them. This is how the shaman is reborn as a new being, different from ordinary humans.”

“A terrifying bird. But what does that dream have to do with Ryeong’s successor?”

“It’s closely related. Only those chosen by the Mother Bird Spirit can become the successor. They say Ryeong dreams of that bird twice in his lifetime. Once when fasting to become Ryeong, and once when being designated as a successor. During the successor designation, the fierce bird appears in the dream, flapping its six wings violently.”

Ray’s tone slowed slightly.

“On the night of the full moon, when the magical power is at its strongest, Marata dreamed that dream and went outside as if entranced. She later whispered to me that although no one told him, she knew exactly where to go. And at the end of that journey, she found me. Under the bright moonlight, at the foot of a mountain where corpses covered only by straw mats lined up, awaiting decomposition. Even though just a single left arm was peeking out from under the straw, she immediately knew, ‘It’s this child,’ she said.”

“I see….”

A chill spread through my body. I had heard countless stories of storks delivering babies, but never of such a monstrous bird.

“So, Ray has already dreamed that dream once?”

“Yes. I was discovered by Marata, and a year later, I met the fierce bird in my dream. But I have yet to dream of it a second time. I don’t think I’ll ever meet that fierce bird again.”

“Why?”

“I’m the first white person in the 132 generations of Ryeong’s history. Even after Ryeong’s migration from Siberia to this land, Ryeong has always been Asian. I heard that Marata’s mentor was of Mongolian descent. Marata was worried that the line of Ryeong might end with me.”

“That sounds like racial prejudice.”

“You could see it that way. But Ryeong’s history proves it statistically. The chances of a white person becoming Ryeong are extremely low. And until now, all Ryeongs have found their successor before turning twenty-five. I’m twenty-eight now. Yet I still haven’t encountered the fierce bird.”

Ray smiled bitterly. I wanted to ask something, but stopped myself. While Ray might be sad that the line of Ryeong would end with him, it was good news for me. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

I didn’t want Ray involved with sorcery. I just wanted him to live quietly as an ordinary person. I was ready to give him everything. I could provide for his education or drape him in jewels. I was prepared to treat him like a queen.

But sorcery was out of the question. I could never accept that. Sorcery was a cursed hobby that didn’t suit Ray at all.

At least now I could rest a bit easier. One less thing to worry about.

“Since we’ve finished eating, let’s move to the living room and have some tea.”

I spent the rest of the time pleasantly with Ray. We laughed endlessly while watching cartoons. As the night deepened, I moved closer to Ray and put my arm around his shoulder. Ray kept his gaze fixed on the TV, still laughing.

So oblivious…

I smiled faintly as I looked at the clock. It was half an hour before midnight. Time to play my final card.

“Let’s go to bed.”

Ray flinched. I ignored his reluctant glance toward the TV and pulled him to his feet. I held him and led him straight to the bedroom my parents used. I believed that even my parents, who had sighed at their promiscuous gay son, would gladly approve of Ray.

I laid Ray on the bed and embraced him. Once again, Ray turned his head away from me. I wanted to make him look straight at me but decided against it. Each time he avoided my gaze, a wave of bitterness swept over me. Suddenly, a certain feeling overwhelmed my entire body. It was dark and unmistakable, like a prisoner’s crimson blood—anger.

My one and only lover had been thrown into a pile of corpses at the age of seven. In his dream, his flesh had been torn off and his neck severed by a vicious bird. He spent ten years of solitary nights in a freezing attic, where even the scorching midday sun of midsummer froze. Why? Why him?

Questions surged. Why Ray? Why the person I love? Of all people, why did Ray have to endure the desolate times that would make even the moon pale in fear? What was God’s plan in shrouding a powerless person in such vast darkness?

I knew. Life wasn’t fair. Inequality, injustice, and unfairness were the fuel and gears that kept the world turning. One needn’t look far—Marxism’s collapse was proof of that. For that reason, the born villain Four Messara ironically believed in God.

Having gathered ten capable subordinates was enough to say I had been blessed by God. My business had always run smoothly. It was a result of inexplicable, bizarre luck that extended beyond my own abilities. That’s why I always thought God was on my side. I sometimes even indulged in the notion, laughing quietly, ‘Could it be that Four Messara is specially chosen by God?’

But when I looked at Ray, I couldn’t help but hate God. It felt as if God had been offering me enormous power in exchange for Ray. The more I thought about it, the more I was consumed by questions and fury.

Still, it had worked out for now…

Suppressing my anger, I kissed Ray. I opened the jewelry box I had prepared and took out the necklace.

“Please accept this.”

Ray’s eyes widened. I quickly spoke before he could refuse.

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it? You have to accept this.”

“Uh…”

Ray covered his mouth, looking as though he hadn’t even realized it was his birthday. I felt a twinge of sadness. As I placed the necklace around Ray’s neck, I said,

“There’s only five minutes left until today ends. Don’t feel burdened; it’s not something expensive. I just really wanted to give this to you.”

Of course, that was a lie. Like I’d ever give Ray a cheap birthday present. Hahaha.

“…Thank you.”

Ray lowered his head and spoke softly. I gently laid him down, caressing him as I moved inside. Ray wrapped his arms around me, his long eyelashes casting shadows over his blue eyes. His auburn hair spread out in waves.

Suddenly, a strange sadness overcame me. It felt almost like thirst.

How could our lives have been so different? While I enjoyed a carefree childhood, Ray was trapped in a dark attic like a prisoner awaiting execution. I could only feel regret that we had met too late. If only we had met ten years earlier… the thought gnawed at me.

But it was fine. We could make up for lost time now. The desolate hours, marked only by the ticking of the clock’s hands, had vanished. That empty space was now filled with auburn hair—right here in front of me. Like a matchstick clutched in the frozen hands of a young girl, Ray was now illuminating my life.

I ran my fingers through his auburn hair and drifted into my thoughts.

A full moon night…

That night had also been a full moon. Beneath the enchanting night sky, with flames dancing in the air, I danced with Ray, intoxicated by the sound of flutes and drums. Suddenly, Ray’s auburn hair wrapped around my entire body. His blue smile collided with me, shattering like moonlight into countless pieces.

In that moment, I knew. It was like a spell whispered into the cold air. Four Messara had been captured by Ray Arisa, and it was destiny. I knew that I would love him until my very last moment, as I lay in a cold, hard coffin. This feeling would be my first and last, and even as my body rotted into a stinking corpse, I would hold onto this love forever.

If God ever became fickle and tried to take Ray from me again, I would sell my soul to the devil to resist. I couldn’t bear to lose him a second time. I whispered to Ray, “I love you.” I repeated it endlessly, but my thirst remained unquenched.

After confirming Ray was asleep, I rose quietly. I went to the living room, picked up my phone, and opened the browser.

Did he cry because the program was sad?

I laughed coldly. It would be more convincing to claim a herring was red…

If you wanted to lie to someone like Guiger Chief, you needed top-tier acting skills. I saw through it immediately. That was a hastily made-up lie. And when Ray turned off the TV with the remote, I had already noted the channel number.

When it came to Ray, I wasn’t going to miss a single detail. I still remembered vividly what kind of disaster had occurred when I overlooked something as insignificant as a shabby coat. I would never forget, not even in my final moments.

More than anything, I felt a sense of déjà vu. When Ray hurriedly turned off the TV, a chill ran down my neck. It was just like that time when Ray picked up the phone and pushed me away. And who had been on the other end of that phone? Wasn’t it Manen?

I accessed the cable network’s website and checked the program schedule. The time had been around 8:00 p.m. There was one result. A show that had aired from 6:40 to 7:50. The title was

. The rerun was scheduled for tomorrow at 10:00 p.m. I made a note of it in my scheduler.

I want to spend this winter with you in this glass garden.

I spent the afternoon thinking about Messara’s words. The day after I received my first-ever birthday gift, Messara had taken me to the greenhouse in the backyard and said, “I want to spend this winter with you in this glass garden.”

To spend time together in a glass garden.

It was a common phrase used in courtship. In the kingdom, where winter lasted half the year, most homes had greenhouses filled with plants and trees. The kingdom’s people called these greenhouses “glass gardens.”

Messara’s garden, however, had been left empty for a long time. There was nothing but white snow blanketing the transparent glass. In that place, Messara held my shoulder and said,

I love you.

He pulled me close and repeated it. He said he loved me.

I stared blankly out the window, and in the end, I agreed. Though I felt like I had fallen for Messara’s tricks, I couldn’t bring myself to refuse.

But living together after just two weeks?

I smiled bitterly as I sipped my tea. My hesitation about living together had always been because of Whitebirch. Whitebirch, who still persistently called to me, and the fear that the ancient grudge between us would rear its sharp fangs once again.

Red meat turns black with time. Just like that, I felt that more time was needed to let go of Whitebirch and send it off in a black boat. Slowly, calmly, I wanted to spend more time getting to know Messara and deepening our bond… That had been my plan.

Yet somehow, after only two weeks, things had turned out like this.

It felt surreal. In a phone booth, I once asked Messara, “Do you still have feelings for me?”

He answered without hesitation,

You have taken everything from me. Until the end, I will give you all of myself. I love you.

I love you.

His voice was filled with conviction. Even the static on the phone line and the fierce wind battering the phone booth couldn’t diminish the warmth in his words.

Eternal love… I’m not sure I believe in that yet. Whitebirch was humiliated by Daytanz, and Ray Arisa was abandoned by his parents. So, I always repeated the same thing: Love doesn’t exist.

And yet, here I was with Messara. I couldn’t say if it was eternal, but one thing was certain—I had deep feelings for him. One way or another, we had come this far.

“How far will we go, and how long will this last?”

I was afraid. Even in the midst of this seemingly unbelievable happiness, the thought would creep in from time to time, making me withdraw. Slowly, I traced the edge of my teacup with my fingertips.

I blamed Whitebirch for this growing feeling, but there was no helping it. This flickering doubt, like an ember buried in ashes, largely stemmed from Whitebirch.

Messara seemed excited about our upcoming cohabitation. He showed no signs of anxiety or doubt about our future. But what if he was wrong? Wasn’t living together different from just being in love? It wasn’t uncommon for couples who had been dating for years to break up just months after getting married. Perhaps, three months from now, we, too, would be packing our things, saying, “What was I even thinking?”

I pressed my temples, trying to shake off the thoughts. Get a grip, Ray Arisa. You’ve already promised yourself to stay in the present, haven’t you? Let’s think about something more pleasant.

Messara was a good partner—except for his odd sexual tastes. He constantly made efforts to create events and keep me happy. Frankly, he was too good for someone as poor as me.

What exactly did he see in me?

It certainly wasn’t my personality. I lacked wit and charm, and even I found myself boring. Could it be my looks, then?

I stared at my reflection in the window. I was a typical Northern beauty with blonde hair and blue eyes, and thanks to my mole-like life, my skin was exceptionally pale.

But I look so dull…

I scratched my cheek. I was pretty, sure, but not exactly sharp-looking. Maybe it was the way my long lashes cast shadows over my eyes, but I looked rather vacant.

I wasn’t fond of my eye color, either. A pure ultramarine. 19th-century European painters had found such vibrant colors gaudy, which was why pure ultramarine was rarely seen in paintings from that time. Well, fashion is just fashion, after all.

Should I ask Messara directly?

I smiled. A soft sense of fulfillment wrapped around me, a warm and pleasant feeling. What a curious sensation it was to love and be loved.

The feeling of not being alone… It was almost like magic, this sense of floating. Just experiencing this sensation again made me glad I had found the courage to step into that phone booth.

At the same time, I felt a bit silly. With business so slow lately, all I did at the shop was lay around the counter like a caterpillar, thinking about Messara. Every now and then, I’d look out the window, seeing my own silly face, resting my chin in my hand and humming, “Messara… how pathetic, how pathetic,” like a fool. I looked utterly ridiculous.

But no matter how often I reflected on it, I couldn’t help but enjoy it. The time spent getting to know him more deeply was so much fun. Discovering parts of him I hadn’t known before made me happy.

Just last Wednesday, as we were walking down the street, I asked Messara a question.

“Why do you always keep your hair pushed back? You’d look better with bangs.”

Messara had laughed.

“Do you think so?”

“Yes. When your hair is back, you look neat, but it also makes you seem cold. And with your gray eyes, you look hard to approach.”

“That’s exactly why I keep it back.”

“You mean, you want to look cold on purpose?”

“Exactly. All my colleagues are loud and cheeky. If I appear even a little softer, they immediately try to match me. You know how it is, Ray. Blonde hair often leads to misunderstandings. People tend to assume you’re frivolous or stupid. I even considered dyeing my hair at one point.”

“I see.”

I nodded, amused to discover that Messara had his own insecurities about his appearance. At the same time, I felt a chill. I had naively assumed he had a good relationship with his colleagues, but in reality, he was carefully managing them.

What kind of person was Messara to his colleagues? I was curious about that, too. When I thought about Snake, the affectionate and cheerful person he showed me was completely different from what I saw. Back then, he was just “the man who spoke with his whip.” Was he simply a stoic and cold leader in front of his colleagues?

He was certainly a unique person. That became even clearer with what happened shortly after.

“How about this orange?”

Messara had picked out an orange from a street vendor’s fruit stand and handed it to me. I sniffed it and said, “It smells nice.” Messara bought several oranges and we left the stall. As we walked, without any particular thought, he suddenly grabbed my side tightly.

“What’s wrong?”

Messara answered seriously.

“I want to suck your nipples. Right now.”

“…What?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Messara immediately pulled me into a nearby building. In no time, I was dragged into a bathroom stall.

“Wait. We’ll be home soon.”

“We’re already here. Just a little.”

Without a change in expression, Messara unbuttoned my shirt. I was helpless as he sat me on his lap and sucked my chest. It was utterly embarrassing. By the time I was flustered by his persistent caressing, I too had gotten aroused. Messara even asked for oral sex.

“I sucked on you, so now you suck on me. You love sucking my cock, don’t you? Come on.”

He was shameless enough to say that aloud. After that incident, I realized one thing very clearly. Messara’s sexual urges had no regard for time or place. It was really quite wild.

But do I really enjoy sucking cock? Is that how I seem?

I furrowed my brow at the sudden question. Do I…?

I didn’t mind sucking. Swallowing semen didn’t bother me either. Honestly, I found oral sex more satisfying than anal. Come to think of it, even during anal sex, Messara often said, “You like this, don’t you? You want to suck it, right?” and would push his cock toward my mouth. What exactly did Messara see in me? Maybe I should ask him sometime.

I looked out the window. I had accepted Messara’s request but asked for three days. The humidity was so bad that even leaving books alone for a few days would damage them. I planned to dry the room as much as possible over those three days. For some reason, I felt gloomy.

Would I be able to return here three months from now?

There was one thing I knew for sure. Messara wanted me to quit the secondhand bookstore. From the beginning, he had blatantly shown his disdain for my poverty. From Messara’s perspective, it was only natural that he harbored such a wish. However, my thoughts were different.

The reason I accepted Messara was as part of the process to live out the remaining time as Ray Arisa. That process also included realizing my dreams. Now, I had parted ways with magic. There was no longer any dream to be found there.

The only thing I had left was this secondhand bookstore. It was the place that had supported me in the cold, bitter path of revenge. I had no intention of giving it up. Messara might dismiss it as nothing but a pathetic show of poverty, but I had never once been ashamed of my profession.

I sighed and set my glass down.

I would take my time making Messara understand.

During our time living together, I planned to write a book. Writing was the vague dream I had nurtured while running the bookstore. I knew full well—Ray Arisa, with zero imagination, zero wit, and zero sensitivity, could never write a novel or poetry.

The book I wanted to write was a practical one. Ryeong had studied not only magic but also folk remedies and the properties of plants. I figured sharing this information wouldn’t hurt, and it might even help those who were poor. Of course, I wasn’t sure whether this manuscript would ever sell to a publisher.

Suddenly, the bell chimed. I snapped out of my thoughts.

“Welcome….”

I stopped mid-greeting. It was the unwanted visitor from Saturday.

The man cleared his throat and looked around the store. I picked up the cane I had set aside.

“I apologize for my previous behavior. You came to pick this up, right? It seemed valuable, so I kept it safe for you.”

As I handed over the cane, I glanced at the red lipstick mark on the man’s cheek. He took the cane with a “thank you,” completely oblivious to the lipstick stain. I considered pointing it out but decided against it. This was 42nd Street, after all.

The man kept glancing around, not making any move to leave. His behavior was highly suspicious. I hardened my expression.

“Is there something wrong, sir? If you have no business here, please leave.”

“Well, it’s nothing much, but I have a question.”

“A question?”

“This store, I mean… its name.”

I was silent for a moment.

“…What about my bookstore’s name do you find curious?”

“I was just wondering why you chose that name.

. Are you particularly interested in history?”

“Since I didn’t name it myself, I wouldn’t know. The sign was passed down from the previous owner. He did seem to have a strong interest in history, though.”

“Oh… I see. Then, by any chance….”

“Yes?”

“Was the previous owner interested in Whitebirch? Especially when it came to wedding rings?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

I cut him off, but internally I thought, this guy sure is peculiar.

In truth, I had named the bookstore myself. It had been an impulsive decision, and I hadn’t given it much thought since.

“Seems like you’re quite interested in Whitebirch.”

“Excuse me? Oh, yes. What about you?”

“Well, somewhat. But you’re unique. Not many people show interest in Whitebirch’s ring. Most are more focused on the royal tomb or the scandal with the royal chamberlain.”

“Everyone has different interests. I’m fascinated by gemstones.”

The man was now carefully inspecting the shelves. He pulled out a book titled

and beckoned me over.

I was a bit bored, so I approached. The man flipped to the page on Whitebirch.

“You see the sapphire ring Whitebirch is wearing? Sapphires are commonly used for engagement or wedding rings. Even today, women of the British royal family wear sapphire rings and carry bouquets of blue cornflowers at their weddings. But it was different in the past. In the 16th century, only the extremely wealthy could afford sapphire rings. It was called the gemstone of kings and Mary.”

“I see. I don’t know much about gemstones, so I had no idea.”

I responded indifferently. Unlike the stylish Messara, Ray Arisa had no interest in fashion, much less jewelry. It was an amusing story, but then I froze.

The necklace Messara had given me for my birthday flashed before my eyes. It was a sapphire necklace. A gemstone often used for engagement or wedding rings….

Messara was very knowledgeable about gemstones. There was no way he didn’t know the significance of sapphires. My face suddenly flushed, and my heart raced. Struggling to stay calm, I hastily spoke.

“So, what exactly is it about that ring that interests you?”

The man furrowed his brow in thought. His expression might have resembled Rodin’s

, but the lipstick mark on his cheek made him look more like Duchamp’s comical parody.

Trying to suppress my laughter, I watched as the man slowly began to speak.

“A royal wedding was always a grand spectacle meant to showcase the monarchy’s power. Naturally, the wedding jewelry was always exquisite works of art. And among them, this ring was the finest. Yet, of all the wedding treasures confiscated from Whitebirch, this ring was the only one missing.”

“Ah, yes. That’s right. The king summoned Whitebirch’s mother and flew into a rage. Haha.”

I laughed a little coldly.

“The king accused her of burying the body with the ring still on it in the wasteland. He demanded she return the ring if she had stolen it from the corpse. So that’s why you’re interested in the name of this store?”

“You could say that, yes.”

The man laughed.

“The store’s name felt unusual to me.

seems to suggest that Whitebirch never wore the ring in the first place.”

“I see. Well, perhaps the official who tortured Whitebirch stole the ring. After all, it’s an expensive jewel, right?”

“Hahaha. In any case, Daytanz is a cursed bastard.”

“Yes, he certainly is.”

I nodded with a smile. In truth, that small episode was one of many that fueled my suspicions.

The ring incident occurred three months after the portrait was revealed. Whitebirch’s mother was the only family member to personally bury him. If Daytanz had any conscience, instead of demanding the ring, he should have apologized to Whitebirch’s mother.

“But it seems like your boyfriend cares about you a lot.”

“What?”

I looked up. The man was staring intently at my neck. Only then did I realize that the necklace had slipped out from under my shirt collar. I hurriedly adjusted the collar to hide it.

“Ah, it’s not really a particularly valuable item.”

“I’m not so sure. It looks like the work of the famous Italian jewelry designer, Viagini. The wave pattern inspired by the Mediterranean suggests it might be his latest piece from this summer,

. If I’m not mistaken, doesn’t the clasp bear a ‘V’ initial?”

His explanation flowed effortlessly. I responded, still stunned, “Does it really?” I was taken aback—Messara had lied to me again.

“You certainly have a keen interest in jewelry. But you’re mistaken. He’s just a low-ranking member of the Guiger squad, not particularly wealthy.”

“Hmm. Well, to afford that jewelry, one would need at least 500,000 Tarrantens. Your boyfriend must care for you deeply. Even if it’s a counterfeit, gifting something like this says a lot. It’s crafted so well that even I was momentarily fooled.”

Five hundred thousand Tarrantens. That was enough to buy two luxury houses. Suddenly, the necklace around my neck felt unbearably heavy. Fear began to creep in. This was 42nd Street, where even in broad daylight, murders and robberies were common.

Suddenly, the man’s phone rang. He fumbled to answer it, saying, “Oh, darling. Yes, yes. I’ll be there soon. The birthday party ran longer than I expected.”

After hanging up, he picked up his cane and adjusted his clothes.

“I must be going. It was a pleasure talking to you.”

“I was just as bored, so I had fun too. But, by the way, about your left cheek…”

I smiled awkwardly, pointing to the window with my finger. The man’s expression changed dramatically as he glanced at his reflection.

“Ah, no, this, this is… I, I just came here, um, for a quick visit. You see, this area wasn’t a red-light district before. It used to be an empty wasteland. That’s all I was thinking about when I came here. The moment I got out of the car, women started pulling me every which way and kissing me. It was so shocking, you know!”

He rubbed his cheek furiously, offering a clearly transparent excuse.

“Well, with clothes as fine as yours, I can see why the women would misunderstand.”

I pretended to be convinced. Embarrassed, the man bowed slightly and suddenly pulled out a card from his pocket.

“Here, take this as a token of my appreciation. If you have time, stop by.”

“Oh? Ah… sure, thank you.”

After he left, I opened the card. It was an invitation to a masquerade ball, complete with a simple map and the title

. The event was two weeks away.

꙳•❅*ִ

Today, I accompanied Altonen as we made our rounds at the banquet. All sorts of nobles flocked to him, eager to shake his hand and curry favor. It took an entire hour just to get through the greetings.

Standing motionless the whole time was mind-numbingly boring. Cooperhead had been subtly shifting his shoulders for a while, a telltale sign of his boredom.

“Huh.”

Cooperhead muttered suddenly, making me stop in my tracks. Irina Vardi had entered the ballroom, gliding in gracefully.

As a gay man, I wasn’t particularly affected, but the straight men in the room, including Cooperhead, were a different story. In an instant, all eyes were on her. Every time she smiled, the men froze stiff, their legs trembling.

But isn’t she just a flower on a cliff?

I scoffed internally. Still, watching the grand lords salivate in unison was quite a sight. Even the expressions of the higher-ups hiding behind their masks probably weren’t much different.

Irina Vardi, the energetic queen, wasn’t content with just nobles. She had seduced the royal gardener, the coachman, the swimming coach—any healthy man with a sizable ‘asset’ was fair game. There were even growing suspicions about the child she was currently pregnant with. The gullible ‘shepherd boy,’ Kruger, had only recently found out and was now wallowing in despair. Around that time, a fiery redhead began approaching the king.

That woman was Irina Vardi. Having spent a long time in Germany with her brother, she returned home after her father’s sudden death and made her debut in society. She captivated the king in an instant. That was just two weeks ago.

Leopard nudged my side. Pusher was walking toward us. True to his title as the most handsome of the Tattooed Nobility, he wore an impeccably stylish robe and jewelry, elegantly fanning himself with his signature Japanese-style fan.

Pusher greeted Altonen with a handshake and a pat on the shoulder. Altonen had long been mocked for his “unremarkable but dependable” appearance in the social circles. Standing next to the striking Pusher only made him look like a scruffy mule.

I clicked my tongue as I glanced back and forth between them. Really, they ought to at least consider plastic surgery…

Pusher—Manen’s successor as

(the representative of the Tattooed Nobility’s council). Alongside Dryasnene and Rebilz, Pusher had been one of Manen’s closest associates. However, after Manen’s downfall, the fates of the three diverged dramatically. Rebilz was still on the run for his involvement in Manen’s corruption, while Dryasnene had retired into seclusion.

Thanks to that, Pusher easily took over the Lotus position, just like picking up a coin from the street. There were no other prominent figures to replace him, and the support of enthusiastic middle-aged and elderly female fans who admired his looks played a significant role. Since then, he hadn’t made any notable moves.

After shaking hands with Altonen, Pusher left. The next nobleman to approach Altonen was Duke Karl Vardi. I narrowed my eyes.

This sequence is quite interesting. Following the mainstream, here comes the so-called dark horse.

Duke Karl Vardi, Irina’s brother. After their father’s death, he returned to the country with Irina and inherited the title, making his debut in high society.

As soon as Irina became the king’s mistress, she introduced Karl to the king. Karl quickly became the king’s friend. At the same time, he skyrocketed to become one of the most popular men in society. With a sister as the king’s mistress, noble lineage, and solid financial standing, it would have been strange if he didn’t draw attention. My colleagues and I often mockingly referred to Karl as the “next in-law.”

Karl was today’s subject of observation. Recently, tattooed nobles had started gravitating toward Karl. Most of them were young men dissatisfied with Pusher, the new Lotus, who was seen as having less leadership compared to Manen.

Karl kept insisting that he had no interest in power. At least, that’s what he said until now. At parties, he did nothing more than mingle with both martial and civil nobles, sharing idle jokes with the king. Even Altonen seemed to like him. The captains all agreed that Karl wasn’t someone to be overly wary of.

However, I thought differently. Karl wasn’t someone who would quietly remain a moderate. He was a greedy bastard. Just the fact that he allowed his sister to be the mistress of the old and stupid Kruger was suspicious. He reeked of scheming.

I scrutinized Karl as he moved around in front of me. Not much was known about his private life since he had only recently returned to the country. He had a handsome face. He was kind to children, skilled in cooking, art, and piano, making him explosively popular among the noblewomen.

As Altonen sipped his wine, he asked Karl, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been visiting galleries. I recently went to Sir Van Dyke’s exhibition, but it didn’t live up to expectations. There wasn’t a single one of his masterpieces. Still, it was somewhat worth seeing. You should check it out too, Harry.”

Karl replied with a textbook answer. Altonen chuckled, “Hmm, I might.”

Following behind them, I recalled more information about Karl. There was another thing that bothered me. Considering Karl’s external circumstances, there was something suspiciously odd.

Karl had no girlfriend. He didn’t make any effort to get one. He didn’t even have casual flings. Does that even make sense? Why do women call men animals, beasts, and amoebas? Because men, as a species, are all the same in that regard.

We assumed Karl was gay. This was just a vague guess. Even when gay nobles flirted with him, Karl acted like a block of wood. Could he be impotent?

That would certainly be hilarious.

Clicking my tongue, I continued to follow behind Altonen. Of course, that wasn’t the case. The bastard was merely being cautious about getting involved in a sex scandal. The public was pathologically addicted to sex scandals. I, too, enjoyed exposing them. The return on investment was high, and they were plenty of fun.

Well, he’ll reveal his true colors soon enough.

Suddenly, Karl came to a halt. His gaze was fixed on a group of children. Children being dragged by their parents to parties and left sulking in a corner, munching on snacks, was a common sight.

Karl smiled and approached the children. “Bored? Should I play the piano for you?”

The children’s faces lit up with joy. Watching Karl being surrounded by kids and playing the piano, I thought to myself, “I guess the information about him being kind to children is true.”

“Bravo!” and “Encore!” echoed from the crowd with every finished piece. Karl, now past the point of just entertaining the children, was deeply immersed in the music. His shoulders bobbed wildly as he pounded away at the piano keys.

A primal sense of dread surged through me. As I feared, the concert dragged on for over three hours. The party, which was already making me nauseous, was extended by another two hours. I stood behind Altonen, motionless, until the very end of the party. It was hell. That night, all of us captains, including myself, left as newfound haters of the piano.

I came to a clear conclusion: Karl was a bastard.

After work, I booted up my laptop and opened the file for

. I had been too busy for the past two days to watch it. Only today did I finally have the time.

As the title

appeared, a descriptive subtitle followed:

“Blue blood: A term referring to nobility. Originating from Spain, the Spanish nobility were often intermarried with northern European courts, leading to their noticeably pale complexion. With pale skin, blue veins were visible, causing the darker-skinned peasants to believe that the nobility’s veins carried blue blood.”

A sense of foreboding crept over me. As expected, it was a program about the Snow Queen. Within ten minutes, sleep overwhelmed me like a tidal wave. Half of the runtime was spent unraveling the intricate web of the Daytanz royal lineage, not just the Snow Queen.

It was a painful reminder of Ray’s obsession with the Snow Queen.

At long last, our cohabitation began. Other than Ray’s lethal cooking, everything was perfect. After work, I rushed home to spend time together.

We sowed seeds in the greenhouse, shared meals, talked, strolled the streets, and had sex. I did everything with Ray. It was like living out all the fantasies I had previously only dreamed about. I was happy. It felt like the entire world belonged to me.

During this period, Ray mentioned wanting to write a book about Ryeong’s magic, specifically the folk remedies and medicinal properties of plants. I enthusiastically applauded, exclaiming, “That’s a wonderful idea! Brilliant!”

I was sincere. If Ray were to publish something about Ryeong’s magic, it would likely be along the lines of “Grind a frog and eat it if you have a stomachache.” More importantly, Ray needed to focus on something bright and creative rather than his gloomy hobby of studying the Snow Queen. That very day, I gifted Ray the latest laptop model.

Ray casually remarked, “If I’m going to do it, I might as well become a villain that helps many people.”

I took his advice about my job to heart. A villain that helps many people… It was a refreshingly novel idea. It wasn’t overly idealistic, and I quite liked that.

Ray had made it clear from the beginning that he didn’t like my job. However, at this point, he couldn’t force me to quit. As a natural-born sadist, Four Messara could never give up his position as Chief of Guiger, where he could legally indulge his instincts. It was absolutely impossible. It would be like telling Holmes to stop using his brain.

I decided to take my time thinking about it. It’s hard for something black to suddenly turn white. Not that I wanted to become white, but at least Ray’s willingness to compromise was a win.

No, it was more than a win. I was enjoying my work at the job, and in my personal life, I had the comfort of being embraced by a beautiful lover. It felt like Four Messara’s life had entered a new chapter, and it was an incredibly fantastic one at that. How marvelous. Ha ha ha.

꙳•❅*ִ

It was a quiet afternoon. I brewed some tea and sat on the living room sofa.

It had been a week since we started living together. On the first day, Messara and I had rushed to the supermarket to buy household items and groceries. Since then, we’ve been busy organizing the house and cleaning up.

I pressed my temples and leaned back in the chair.

So tired…

Honestly, I had assumed I’d have some leisure time while living together. I had planned to write, but that idea was completely shattered. I hadn’t written a single line in the past week. There was that much housework to do.

Strictly speaking, it was all my own doing. Yes, all of it was my own fault.

The day after I arrived, I took a good look around the house. I was impressed by Messara’s mother’s taste. The English-style interior featured handmade lamps, pink curtains with unique prints, a yellow antique sofa, and various vintage decor that delighted the eye. The large Oriental wardrobe in the sewing room on the second floor was packed with handmade tablecloths, curtains, bed covers, and duvet covers, all made by Messara’s mother.

The teapot collection was also something to behold. It was clear where Messara had inherited his sophisticated taste. Among them, a coral-colored elephant-shaped teapot particularly caught my eye.

It’s so pretty… I thought, absentmindedly touching the elephant teapot, which turned out to be a mistake. I stared silently at the teapot. The color revealed beneath my fingerprint wasn’t coral—it was yellow.

I looked at my finger. It was covered in black grime. I ran my fingertip over the deep purple teapot next to the elephant, and blue showed through underneath. That’s when I remembered: Messara had said, “This house has been empty for eight years.”

“We used to deep clean and change the wallpaper every season. I just did a thorough cleaning myself a few days ago. Ray, you can rest and write for three months.”

He had added cheerfully. But that was, of course, according to Messara’s “personal standards” of cleaning. And personal standards can vary as much as the appearances of the 7.5 billion people in the world.

I took another walk around the house from the start, this time carefully inspecting the curtains, light fixtures, and even the carpets. After two hours, I reached a conclusion. This house was a kingdom of mold and dust.

Turns out Messara is surprisingly indifferent to hygiene.

It was as if he had held my hand tightly in this dust-covered house and said, “In this glass garden…,” waxing poetic. I was dumbfounded. But then again, most men’s idea of a thorough cleaning is bound to fall short of any objective standard. Messara was no different from the majority of men who believe that waving a duster around a couple of times counts as deep cleaning.

However, Ray Arisa was not part of that messy category. From that day on, I embarked on a massive cleaning operation. It was intense. It was a fully equipped two-story house with a living room, kitchen, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a utility room, a dressing room, a greenhouse, and a garage. By the time I finished cleaning, I was drenched in sweat.

These days, I’d even taken to walking around the house naked just to reduce the amount of laundry. Still, by now, I finally had the time to enjoy a cup of tea.

I stirred the tea with a spoon and suddenly laughed. Yesterday, Messara had looked at me sitting in the living room, tilted his head, and said cheerfully, “Is it an illusion, or is the living room glowing today? Ha ha. It must be because Ray is sitting here.”

I almost said it wasn’t an illusion, it was the result of my hard work cleaning, but I decided against it. At least Messara wasn’t like Sonia, who’d pick up a broken-winged Cupid statue and beam with satisfaction.

Living together really was different from dating. I could clearly see parts of him I hadn’t noticed before. For example, Messara’s very disciplined daily routine. I had imagined that, being a pervert, he would laze around the house all day if we lived together and make my life difficult, but I was wrong.

Messara was strict about self-discipline. He got up at 6 a.m. and exercised until 7 to maintain his fitness. He even meticulously controlled his diet. He enjoyed drinking, but never overindulged. When he came home from work, he never wasted a second before going to bed.

Perhaps that’s why Messara slept soundly. We had sex three times over the week (which was the biggest surprise), but even when we didn’t, he slept like the dead.

Before moving in together, I had casually asked Messara if he dreamed often. He had said that he was so used to sleeping deeply that he rarely dreamed, or if he did, he didn’t remember them. Now I understood why.

Even so, why did he do that on that day? “Even just for a moment, please… Whitebirch.” This gentle man before me, who sometimes leaned on me like a boy, occasionally brought back a bitter memory of something he did long ago.

Why did he do it? If only he hadn’t, I could have loved Messara with an easy heart.

“It’s unbelievable, really unbelievable.”

Just as I was about to let out a bitter laugh, the sound of the doorbell broke the silence. I snapped out of my thoughts and hurriedly put on a robe.

“Who is it?”

“My name is Eleanor Titmayer Castlemaine, from next door. You can call me Mrs. Castlemaine. I just wanted to stop by and say hello. Here’s a cake I baked.”

An elderly woman with a warm expression handed me a cake box with a smile. I quickly gestured her inside.

“Thank you. I’m Ray Arisa. Please come in, it’s cold outside.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Castlemaine entered, glancing around the room. She carefully examined the picture frames on the wall and then burst into laughter.

“As I thought. It is true, isn’t it? Four has returned here, hasn’t he?”

“You know him?”

“Of course. I’ve known him since he was a baby. I’ve been friends with Four’s mother, Jenny, for a long time. Lately, I noticed lights flickering in this house, so I came by to check. After Jenny and her husband passed away, this house had been empty for a long time. So, Ray, are you Four’s…?”

“Yes.”

I gave an awkward smile, feeling embarrassed standing there in my robe. I regretted not dressing properly before opening the door.

Mrs. Castlemaine took my hand.

“Haha, I knew it the moment I saw you. You’re just his type.”

Just his type? Did his sexual orientation reach as far as the neighbors? Puzzled, I asked, “Was Messara quite famous around here?”

“Oh, don’t get me started. Everyone knew him. He had the perfect makings of a gang boss.”

I just smiled silently. The perfect makings of a gang boss—how spot-on.

“So, what does Four do these days?”

“…He’s just an office worker.”

“My goodness, you really never know what life has in store. Who could’ve imagined that Four would settle down with a stable job and come back home with such a beautiful person? It’s like the return of the prodigal son. Oh, Jenny would have loved to see this! She was so distressed, always saying how much trouble her boy caused her after having him at the age of thirty-nine.”

Mrs. Castlemaine dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. I had nothing to say to her ridiculous misunderstanding, so I just kept smiling.

“Well then, why don’t you and Four come over to our house for lunch this Sunday at noon?”

“Thank you for the invitation. We’ll be sure to come.”

After seeing Mrs. Castlemaine off, I sat back down on the sofa. The house fell silent again, like a deserted alleyway at dusk. I opened the box and took out the cake. Taking a bite of the warm, freshly baked cake, I stared up at the ceiling.

Has it been a week already?

Aside from Messara, it was the first real conversation I’d had with another person in a week. There was something ironic about that. Even when I ran the second-hand bookstore, I hadn’t gone this long without talking to someone.

The owl clock struck five. I wondered what Messara was up to.

I hadn’t been paying much attention to the political scene lately, but from the way Messara had been acting, things seemed to be going smoothly at work. Still, you never know. This was a turbulent time—like the Warring States period—so surprises were always a possibility. And the new Lotus Pusher wasn’t as soft as he appeared.

I shook my head. Don’t think about it.

That dream is gone now.

But it seemed Messara didn’t fully trust my decision to leave politics behind. He didn’t bring up even trivial topics related to political matters. On top of that, the cable TV in this house had all the channels except public broadcasts and news channels. Even the internet and newspapers were restricted.

On the first day of living together, Messara had said over dinner:

“Please call me whenever you go out alone.”

The tone was gentle, but it was clearly a command. The meaning was obvious. Messara loved me, but he wasn’t loosening the reins of control. I had to accept that. Messara was the Guiger Chief, and I, even if just for a time, had been a

.

Still, it was suffocating. It made me sad to feel the caution he harbored toward me.

Time will heal it…

I picked up my teacup and headed to the kitchen. Flipping through a cookbook, I tried to choose a menu. Messara was a picky eater, and as the one responsible for cooking on weekdays, it was always a bit of a dilemma.

At least compared to when we first reunited, Messara’s complexion had improved considerably. When I asked him what he’d been doing to look so rough, he gave a short reply.

“I just drank.”

A short statement, but it carried a lot of weight. It hurt to hear. It seemed Messara had let himself go during our time apart.

Worrying about cooking…

Suddenly, I remembered Whitebirch’s last words. No matter how hard I tried to push them away, it was useless.

It made me feel depressed.

꙳•❅*ִ

It was Wednesday. After wrapping up my workday with a meeting with Altonen, I was planning to head home. However, even though quite some time had passed, there was no sign of Altonen entering the office.

Suppressing my irritation, I took out the necklace from its case and fiddled with it. It was a ruby necklace I had ordered three weeks ago, and it had only arrived today. The fiery red color, like the sun, seemed like it would go well with Ray’s blonde hair. With his long hair, necklaces suited Ray the best. I planned to undress him completely and put it on him myself again this time.

I enjoyed having sex with Ray while he wore nothing but a necklace. When I thrust hard, the necklace would sway in sync with the movement. It was very arousing. Just thinking about it made me feel tense below.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Altonen hurried into the office. “No problem,” I started to say, but I froze mid-sentence. Behind Altonen, Karl was leisurely entering the room.

My mood instantly soured. The bile left by the piano performance still hadn’t subsided. To make things worse, here was the

, barging into the office of the next Japonica. What audacity.

And today’s meeting was to discreetly inform Altonen about the deal I had made with Fontane, the

representative. Yet here he was, bringing Karl into this?

Even a scarecrow was starting to get ahead of itself.

Altonen wasn’t entirely clueless. His face was almost comically pale as he stammered, “I-I was going to go to an exhibition with Karl, and the timing got awkward.”

“Oh, by the way, what’s that necklace? C-could I take a look? Is it for your lover?”

Without replying, I snapped the case shut with a loud bang. Altonen’s eyes widened.

“Wait, really? Is it actually a gift for your lover?”

Reluctantly, I nodded. Altonen’s jaw dropped.

“This is surprising. I mean, you’re young, so it’s natural to have a lover, but… Guiger Chiefs just seem like they’re not the type to date or get married. Maybe it’s because of that devilish mask you wear.”