The Snow Queen

It was awful. This is exactly why I hate that cursed mask. Out of the department heads, three were married. Jaguar, who got married at twenty, already had four children. On top of that, five more were certain to join the ranks of married men this year. Recently, Leopard and Copperhead had been frantically searching for potential partners because of this.

“Let’s introduce ourselves, shall we? You’re Snake, right?”

Karl extended his hand. I didn’t respond. The no-handshake rule had been established as one of our official protocols ever since the “Ryeong Incident.”

“Guiger department heads don’t shake hands,” Altonen quickly explained. Karl withdrew his hand with a faint “Hmm.”

“I see. No handshakes, huh? I’ve even heard that not even Harry has ever seen Snake’s face without the mask. They say you can only recognize Snake when he’s holding a whip… Even after half a year under your command, people still say they don’t know your real name. Haha. Anyway, it’s a pleasure. I’ve been curious about what kind of person Harry’s shadowy advisor really is. You know? Many nobles are quite intrigued by you.”

The man kept babbling on disgustingly. I tapped my whip lightly and glared at Altonen. His contorted face looked like that of a man walking to his execution.

“I must say, I’m curious about what kind of person Snake’s lover is. I don’t think it would be rude to ask, right? Hahaha.”

“Very quiet,” I replied, clearly conveying the message that he should shut up and leave. Karl ignored it and plopped down on the chair across from me. Altonen quietly crossed himself.

“Very quiet, huh… Doesn’t that get boring? You’re quiet, and your lover is quiet, wouldn’t that be a bit dull?”

“My surroundings are filled with loud and obnoxious people. I don’t need my lover to be one of them.”

“And their looks? I’ve probably seen every noblewoman at parties, so I imagine they must be quite stunning. Are they the sexy type? Pure type? What’s their bust size? It’s all fine, come on, it’s just us men here. Don’t we all have those kinds of conversations? Hahaha!”

Karl puffed on his cigar, slapping me on the shoulder. My fist clenched instinctively. I wanted to snatch that cigar and burn his eyes out. A pale-faced Altonen quickly stepped in, grabbing Karl by the shoulder and pulling him towards the door. Karl grumbled, “Aw, come on,” as he was dragged out.

“I really need to find myself a lover soon, too. Haha. See you next time, then.”

With an irritating wink, he left. I stared at Karl, who was being led out by Altonen.

Find himself a lover soon, huh…

It was oddly coincidental. I’d just received a report about Karl’s relationships today.

This could be interesting.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and the sun was melting away. After shoveling the snow piled up in the front yard, I went back inside. Ray was watching an art channel on TV. A news segment about someone associated with the Snow Queen was on.

It was Sorel. The news was about the masked ball tomorrow, where Sorel would unveil a portrait of the Snow Queen. Ray furrowed his brows as he looked at me.

“That guy.”

“Yes, I recognized him that day. Sorel is the kingdom’s top oil magnate. He’s also notorious for being a staunch leftist.”

“I see. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought it might make you sad to know that you won’t get many more chances to see the portrait of the Snow Queen in person. Sorel is known for rarely showing his collection to the public. Tomorrow’s masquerade will probably be the last time the Snow Queen’s portrait is shown publicly.”

“I see.”

Ray nodded, and I quietly changed the channel to a popular show called

. I was sick of hearing about the Snow Queen.

Honestly, I never really thought much about Ray’s fascination with the Snow Queen. As long as it wasn’t about politics or sorcery, I was fine with whatever hobby he picked up. I even read some boring memoirs just to engage in conversations with him. But lately, I had started to feel that this hobby was getting a bit excessive.

I never believed or liked that story in the first place. It was just a nonsense fairytale. Even as a drama, it made me uncomfortable. And after hearing the true background of it briefly mentioned in

, I despised it even more. That beautifully tragic story was nothing but a mask hiding a filthy conspiracy.

Staring at the TV screen, I pondered. Why was Ray so obsessed with the Snow Queen? I had some guesses. The moment I heard Ray’s childhood story, I had a feeling. It was the confinement.

Ray had lived in confinement for a long time. He was beaten and starved. As someone who had personally dealt with all sorts of violent scumbags over the years, I knew very well what kind of impact that abuse could have on a person. Maybe Ray’s long hair, which I found so alluring, was a product of that abuse.

Is that why? Is that why Ray is so obsessed with the Snow Queen? Does he feel a sense of kinship with Whitebirch, who spent years in isolation in her tower? If that was the case, I wanted to uproot it completely. That wasn’t a hobby. It was a byproduct of misery, the kind of darkness in Ray that I loathed.

And then there was the matter of the Ryeong. Ever since that damn witch’s prophecy hit dead on, I couldn’t help but be subtly wary of anything related to the Ryeong. It was the number one reason I had grown to hate Ray’s Snow Queen hobby. At first, I hadn’t noticed, but now I was keenly aware. It might just be a coincidence, but it still sent chills down my spine.

Both Ray and the Snow Queen had long hair. Daytanz failed to see the connection between the Whitebirch branch and his wife’s name. And I hadn’t realized that Ray’s name was Ryeong all along. The Snow Queen was caught up in a political struggle and was killed by Daytanz while practicing sorcery.

Suddenly, a chill ran down my spine. Instinctively, I pulled Ray close to me. He looked at me and asked, “Why?” I didn’t answer and kissed him instead. As we kissed, I tried to push away all those cursed thoughts.

After all, it was just a made-up story with no real source. Ray was here with me now. He had washed his hands clean of both politics and sorcery.

So what was the problem?

A surge of desire rose in me. I immediately began undressing Ray. As I undressed myself, I glanced at the table. The ice in the whiskey glass gleamed sharply.

Well, I guess it’s fine to indulge a little today.

It had been nearly a month of relatively restrained sex. My frustration was intense, and I was on the verge of snapping. Holding back while having this hot body right in front of me was nothing short of living hell. Simply choking him or gripping his waist wasn’t enough to satisfy me anymore. I needed something more. Desperately. Ray was truly a hopeless case.

It was fine, though. Ray was someone who tried his best to accommodate my needs up to a certain point. And today was Saturday. The weekend, after all, is meant to be enjoyed.

At first, I took care of Ray’s needs. I took the sixty-nine position, letting Ray suck on my cock to his heart’s content while I indulged in the sight of his exposed crotch. I spent plenty of time on foreplay too. Then, I worked diligently, giving him what he loved—being in the cowgirl position. We climaxed together twice. Ray seemed plenty satisfied.

“Was it good?” I asked.

Ray nodded. Once I gave him time to recover, I started the main event. I had Ray lie on his back in the missionary position. He flinched momentarily but didn’t resist, as if he’d realized what was coming.

I glanced over at the whiskey glass. The ice had melted enough that its edges were rounded. It seemed like a good time to try something. I spoke softly, asking for his understanding in a pitiful tone.

“I’ve held back for too long, and I can’t anymore. Could you help me out?”

Ray’s lips trembled slightly, signaling his approval. I smiled gently and picked up the ice from the glass. Ray instantly recoiled.

“W-what are you trying to do?”

“Nothing much. The ice is melted enough that it won’t hurt. It might be a bit cold, though.”

“So, you’re going to…”

“Why are you so scared? I know bigger things go in there.” I chuckled.

I spread Ray’s opening with my fingers. His insides, having already been used earlier, were warm to the touch. I slowly pushed the ice inside with my fingertip. Ray gasped, eyes widening as chills visibly ran through his body. That reaction sent a sharp thrill racing through me.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. I pulled out another piece of ice from the whiskey glass. Ray paled.

“S-stop, don’t put any more in…”

“It’ll melt soon enough, so just one more.”

“Still…ugh…ah!”

As I pushed the second piece in, Ray instinctively clamped his legs together and squirmed. I forcefully pried his legs open. Ice water mixed with semen was already starting to trickle out. I took a moment to admire the sight before positioning myself.

I lifted his hips, fully exposing his crotch, and thrust inside without mercy. A loud slapping sound echoed.

“Aaaah!”

Ray cried out. The tip of my cock brushed against the cold ice, and Ray’s face contorted in a mix of pain and pleasure. Seeing him like that sent waves of ecstasy through me. It was electrifying.

Ice water and semen dripped out as I pounded into him, sloshing around inside. I sped up, driving myself deep. The slick sound of my movements echoed as the pink flesh at his entrance protruded and retracted with each thrust. The fluids running down his thighs felt cool against my skin.

Ray was losing his mind, screaming, “Ah! Ah!” as he writhed. With the ice inside him on top of my cock, the sensation must have been overwhelming. His hole clamped down hard on me, spasming. He had certainly learned the ropes after having been with both me and Leopard.

I thrust into him savagely, even slipping my fingers inside to massage his prostate. I watched Ray’s face closely, asking over and over how it felt. Ray could only scream in response.

“Ah! Ah! Aaaah!”

I teased his sensitive front, causing Ray to shriek. His crotch was drenched with the melted ice water. The liquid ran down his arched back, soaking the fabric of the sofa.

I was on the verge of climax myself. I drove in as deep as possible and released inside him. My vision blurred as the orgasm radiated through my body. After spilling every drop, I pulled out. Thick, cloudy semen leaked from his loosened hole, making a soft squelching sound.

I stared fixedly at that spot, watching as my desire finally subsided. I felt utterly satisfied.

He really was a hopeless case…

I chuckled to myself at the thought, even as I spread Ray’s legs wider. Ray lay staring blankly at the ceiling, his sweat-soaked hair stuck messily to his skin.

I lay beside him and kissed him softly. Fondling his nipple, I asked, “Did you enjoy it?” Ray turned his head away without answering, his ears turning red.

That meant yes.

I grinned mischievously. Just as I worked hard to hold back for Ray during sex, Ray also tried to meet my needs.

I really was a lucky guy…

We lay around on the sofa together, naked and touching each other, exchanging light conversation. We laughed out loud while watching

, a show we both enjoyed. It was a comedy program where nobles, unaware that hidden cameras were recording, made fools of themselves. These moments were wonderful.

“It’s pretty late. Let’s wash up and get some sleep.”

We took a bubble bath together. Ray leaned lazily against my chest. As I sipped from a wine glass sitting next to the tub, I glanced over at Ray. His expression was relaxed, and his eyes were closed.

Hmm…

How would Ray react if I told him to stop being so obsessed with the Snow Queen? Would he think it was too much interference and push back? I mulled over it as I drank my wine.

Ray, being sharp, had likely already realized that I strictly controlled anything related to magic or political intrigue. As the Guiger Chief Snake, that was naturally part of my job. But for me to meddle with his interest in the Snow Queen as well? That felt like overstepping.

I tapped the edge of the tub. Among the belongings Ray had packed, there wasn’t a single book about the Snow Queen. Instead, most were plant reference books or folk remedy collections.

After another glance at Ray, I finally spoke.

“By the way, Ray, about the Snow Queen…”

“Yes?”

Ray hurriedly opened his eyes. As usual, any mention of the Snow Queen sparked a unique reaction.

“It’s nothing much. I just noticed that none of the books you packed were about the Snow Queen. It surprised me. The only books in this house are comic books and detective novels. Aren’t you bored during the day?”

“Oh, that’s because…”

Ray fidgeted, lightly tapping his cheek with water, hesitating before speaking.

“I didn’t bring any on purpose because I’m trying not to think about the Snow Queen anymore.”

“What?”

Surprised by the unexpected answer, I set my wine glass down. I couldn’t believe it.

“Really? Well, it’s true the Snow Queen is a bit too dark for a casual hobby. But I’m curious—what made you change your mind so suddenly?”

“A change of heart…”

Ray rubbed his cheek against my shoulder and smiled.

“Well, it’s an old story anyway. I think it’s time to forget about it and move on. It’s hard, but I have to try.”

That confirmed my suspicions. As I had thought, Ray’s obsession with the Snow Queen was due to the abuse he suffered as a child. I had to fight the urge to rush to the city cemetery and blow up Marata’s grave with dynamite.

Still, it was good news. It was admirable that Ray was trying to live a brighter life, unshackled by his tragic past. I did my best not to laugh aloud as I took a sip of my wine. The pleasant buzz spread through my body. It was turning out to be quite the nice Saturday night.

Haha. This is just perfect.

After our bath, we headed to the bedroom. A wave of exhaustion hit me. Just as I was about to turn off the bedside lamp, Ray hesitated and spoke up.

“By the way, Messara.”

“Yes?”

Ray opened the drawer next to the bed and pulled out something—a card.

“I want to go here. Can you take me?”

I looked at the card, and the moment I saw it, my head throbbed. My vision blurred. Ray explained that he wanted to “completely settle things with the Snow Queen.”

I had no choice but to agree. Complete closure, he said. Complete closure. That was enough. But from that moment, Sorel rose to third place on my list of most hated people.

꙳•❅*ִ

“It’s a ball, a masquerade. But a monk coat? Absolutely not.”

Messara was fuming. The moment he saw the masquerade ticket last night, his face darkened. Yet today, he was in an entirely different mood, enthusiastically rummaging through clothes since morning. I scratched my nose, feeling indifferent.

“We’re just going to look at some art. Does it really matter what we wear?”

“Well, it is a masquerade. Wearing a monk coat to a masquerade is like showing up to a funeral in red shoes. Hmm, what about this? White suits you, Ray.”

“We’re supposed to have a barbecue with the neighbors at lunch. Won’t the clothes get smelly?”

“We can pick something now and change later. Come on, put it on. I need to match the shoes and mask to the outfit.”

Under Messara’s firm insistence, I reluctantly dressed up. I felt awkward.

“This is something only nobles wear.”

I couldn’t help but say as much to Messara, who was clapping enthusiastically. It was a robe—a type of outfit commonly worn by nobles of both genders. There were many styles of robes, but the most popular design was layered, with the outermost garment trailing behind like a gown. It felt incomplete without jewelry, and it used a lot of fabric—a symbol of vanity and extravagance.

And yet, Messara often gifted me these kinds of clothes and jewels. I used to refuse them, but eventually, I gave up. It was redistribution of wealth, after all, as the people making and selling these items were commoners.

“I can’t wear this. People will look at me strangely.”

“They won’t. Robes aren’t exclusive to nobles anymore. Commoners wear them too, as formal party attire. You should try it on at least once. It’s a shame to let such nice things sit unused.”

Messara pulled out a necklace from a jewelry box and placed it around my neck.

“Since your outfit is white, this will be a good accent.”

“…How much does this cost?”

“It’s inexpensive. Besides, no one’s going to pay attention to the jewelry.”

Messara’s serious tone didn’t fool me this time. Still, with only one jewel hanging from the necklace, it likely wasn’t worth more than 500,000 Talantens.

Thinking about that sapphire necklace still gave me chills. Above all, I wasn’t comfortable with Messara’s wealth. It was all ill-gotten gains, wasn’t it?

I despised Lord Manen’s illicit fortune. His secret funds held the record for the largest in the kingdom’s history. Nowadays, “Manen” was synonymous with greed and corruption. Noblesse oblige was the duty of the wealthy, but Messara was no longer a visionary politician; he was now a master of sinister schemes.

In some ways, it was terrifying. A king, once at the height of his power, had returned to this modern age where noble tyranny still reigned… as a commoner. It was purely coincidental, but still, it felt odd.

If fate had truly brought Messara back to this point…

Then he should be walking a better path than he is now, at least. Shouldn’t he become the kind of villain that helps others, rather than causing harm? But that was only my wish. The choice was entirely his.

Once we’d picked out the clothes, we headed to the Castlemaine couple’s house. Throughout lunch, I was bombarded with phrases like “the prodigal son returns” and “your parents would’ve been proud.” Messara casually lied, saying he was running a small martial arts center with a friend. He didn’t even blink as he said it.

Mr. Castlemaine frowned.

“Wouldn’t a regular sports center be a better business? As you know, this kingdom has such deep-rooted Eastern traditions that very few people are interested in Eastern culture anymore.”

“That’s a good point. In fact, my friend and I are also exploring other paths,” Messara answered, bringing his glass to his lips. Mr. Castlemaine nodded and said, “Hmm, I figured as much.” Just watching them made my head spin. All I could think was how incredible their acting was.

We left for Mr. Sorel’s mansion at 8 p.m. It was located far outside the capital, in the suburbs. The portrait unveiling was scheduled for midnight, but we didn’t arrive until 11. Even after passing through the front gate, it took another 20 minutes of driving before the main building came into view. It was a grand mansion in the Baroque style. Since there was only one invitation, Messara had to wait outside.

“Sorry for asking you to do this,” I said.

“You’ve probably been bored staying at home all this time, Ray. It should end by 1 at the latest, so I’ll just kill time at a nearby pub until then. You go have fun—it’s a rare chance to see the Queen of Snow’s portrait in person.”

Messara helped me put on a mask. I took a deep breath. I was extremely nervous, as I’m someone who has a deep fear of crowded places. And I was alone.

As I stepped into the mansion, I suddenly felt suffocated. It was like I had been thrown into the center of a Colosseum, surrounded by a crowd roaring fiercely. Delicate arabesque patterns decorated the interior like spring wildflowers. Tiny figures, monsters, and intricate plants intertwined in blue, yellow, and red, creating a strange, chaotic order. The dazzling splendor made me dizzy.

As I stood there dazed, a servant approached me. “May I have your card, sir?” Snapping back to reality, I quickly handed it over. The servant pointed to one side and said, “If you go down this corridor and cross the gallery, you’ll reach the ballroom.” I hurried down the hallway.

The corridor was eerily empty, perhaps because I had arrived late. I walked slowly, admiring the paintings and tapestries lining the walls. There were works I had only ever seen in art books. Just experiencing this visual feast made the trip worth it.

From the wide-open doors at the end of the long gallery, a bright light poured out. I walked toward the ballroom with a lighter heart. But as soon as I stepped inside, I nearly collapsed.

How could this be…?

The ballroom was vast and high-ceilinged. It was the size of a giant opera house. Hundreds of chandeliers filled with candles heated the space, and people wandered in the warm glow. Men and women alike were dressed in extravagant attire, their gentle smiles hidden behind feathered fans—countless nobles.

I was frozen like a lamb caught in the harsh winter cold. Were all the guests here nobles? There had been no mention of this on the broadcast. If I had known this masquerade was for the aristocracy, I would never have dared to come.

It was only now that I realized why Messara had insisted I wear a robe. As someone who meticulously collects information on the nobility’s movements, he must have known about this gathering. That’s why he had forced me into the robe—had I shown up in my sorcerer’s coat to an event filled with nobles, I would have been bombarded by stares.

“Unbelievable, just unbelievable,” I muttered. A servant approached.

“Are you looking for your seat, sir?”

When I hesitated, the servant said, “Follow me, please.” I found myself following him to a table where five young men sat whispering to each other. “I hope you enjoy your time,” the servant said before leaving.

The men stared at me intently, probably because of my cursed hair. I gave an awkward smile and sat down. They quickly resumed their conversation, which, judging by the tone, seemed to be between nobles of my age group. Most of their discussion was complaints about the ball—how the food was terrible, how the servants were rude. They grumbled at length.

I simply sipped my drink. They called this opulent ball unimpressive? I felt smaller and smaller with each passing moment. But by now, I could clearly see why Messara despised noble parties so much. I had once thought he would enjoy them. It wasn’t until we started living together that I realized otherwise.

“I don’t care for aristocratic parties at all. They’re boring. Vanity and pretense, no matter how prettily dressed, are just tedious. I find street festivals or lunch with neighbors far more entertaining.”

Vanity and pretense.

I chuckled. Hearing him say that always gave me a strange feeling.

I pushed the thoughts aside and looked around. Despite the masks, it wasn’t hard to recognize some famous figures. At the far end of the ballroom, I spotted a platform hidden behind curtains. Reporters, seated separately, were murmuring and scribbling notes.

The noblewomen were competing for attention in the center of the ballroom, dancing in dresses of pink, rose, and blue, their jewels flashing. If the unfortunate princesses from fairy tales could see these ladies, they’d likely hide their enchanted walnuts in their worn aprons. Messara hadn’t been exaggerating when he placed a necklace around my neck and said, “No one will notice this jewel.”

I leaned back in my chair and suddenly froze. A man and a woman had entered the ballroom. Even someone as indifferent to others as I couldn’t help but stare. Their appearance and clothing were overwhelmingly stunning.

Who could they be…? They were unfamiliar to me. I hadn’t been paying attention to the political scene for the past month, and it seemed new players had emerged.

I turned away from them. It’s none of my concern now.

I began to eat. I wasn’t hungry, but there was nothing else to do. It was my first time tasting caviar. It didn’t live up to its reputation.

“Hey, you’re all seated here. Doesn’t this masquerade ball seem a bit strange?”

“Oh, you’re finally here? Where did you leave Irina?”

“She’s already off dancing. I just came over to say hi.”

There was a sudden commotion around me. I looked up without thinking and froze. It was the man from the ‘stunning couple.’ A black-haired nobleman stood up from the table and greeted him warmly. He gestured to an empty chair.

“Why don’t you sit for a bit? I don’t think anyone else is coming.”

“Haha, sure.”

The man plopped down in the chair, puffing out smoke from his cigar in a way that reminded me of a pompous Hollywood actor. He and the nobles began chatting, but the conversation was trivial and dull.

“By the way, is this person with you?”

Suddenly, the man glanced in my direction. The nobles all shook their heads, saying, “No.” I just poked at my plate with a fork. The man’s persistent gaze made me uncomfortable. After staring at me for a while, he flashed a grin.

“You’re quite reserved with your words, aren’t you?”

I bowed my head. The man squinted his eyes and slowly blew out cigar smoke.

“Did you know? The moment I entered the banquet hall, this table caught my eye immediately. All because of that beautiful blonde hair. It was so dazzling that even the ruby necklace around your neck seemed to lose its shine, haha! But I assume you’re a noble who has lived abroad?”

It took me a moment to understand his insinuation. ‘You’re pretending not to recognize someone as famous as me, so you must have been living abroad, right?’ He wasn’t just an actor on the outside; he had the attitude to match.

“I’m not. I just don’t care much for nobles, so I didn’t recognize you. And I’m not a noble either; I’m a commoner.”

“Ah, I see… Well, now that I look closely, you’re a man. If I hadn’t spoken to you, I might have mistaken you. I was almost about to ask you for a dance, but I guess that’s out of the question now.”

The man puffed on his cigar, scratching his head theatrically.

“I keep asking such transparent questions, haha. You see, I’ve been living in Germany for a long time and only recently returned. I just assumed you might be like me. But even so, you’re not an ordinary commoner, are you?”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

“What do I mean, huh? Your clothes and that necklace are quite high-class, and you seem very nonchalant about being around nobles. Plus, I was under the impression that only nobles were invited to this event, yet here you are. I was curious if you had any connections to Mr. Sorel or some other high-ranking person.”

In other words, ‘Are you rich?’

“You’re mistaken again. I’m not wealthy, nor do I have connections with any high-ranking people. I run a small shop, just an ordinary person. I got this invitation while talking to Mr. Sorel about Whitebirch when he visited my shop. And these clothes and jewels? I borrowed them from a friend.”

“Well then… It seems I’ve been asking nothing but shallow questions, haha. But do you know? Many people have been sneaking glances at you. Usually, the one drawing all the attention at these parties is my sister. But tonight, she’s sulking because she’s not getting any attention, thanks to you.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“You’re quite direct, aren’t you? Really different from how you look, haha!”

The man laughed loudly, exhaling more smoke from his cigar.

“But for a friend to lend you such fine clothes and a necklace, you must be very close. The clothes fit you as if they were made for you, and that necklace really suits your blonde hair. How about we exchange names? What’s yours?”

Just then, a loud cheer erupted from the stage. Cameras flashed, and the curtain on the stage lifted. I quickly stood up, realizing that I wouldn’t be able to see the portrait well from here.

I moved closer to the stage. Finally, it came into view—Whitebirch’s portrait, which I was seeing in person for the first time.

꙳•❅*ִ

Ten minutes had passed since Ray had entered the mansion. I tapped the steering wheel lightly and smoked two cigarettes. Excitement tingled through my entire body.

This was quite the amusing coincidence…

I smirked, leaning back deeply in my chair. Ray would never suspect. In fact, I had planned to come here tonight as well. I pulled a card from my coat pocket. It was an invitation to Sorel’s masquerade ball, which I had obtained in secret for work.

My phone remained silent. Leopard and Copperhead were still on their way here, it seemed.

But I was thankful that tonight’s theme for my performance was ‘quiet and peaceful.’ A noisy and brutal death was Guiger’s specialty. It may be a façade, but I didn’t want to show Ray any more of my cruel and ruthless side. He had already seen enough of my ugly face.

I took a mask and cloak from my bag. The fact that tonight’s setting was a masquerade ball was a stroke of luck. For today’s mission, infiltrating the ballroom was essential. It would have been difficult to avoid Ray’s gaze without a mask.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder—could Ray possibly be mingling with those young bastards?

The thought made my blood boil for a moment. But of course, that wouldn’t happen. Knowing Ray, he was probably sitting in a corner, quietly sipping water. And since it’s customary for nobles not to speak to anyone who hasn’t been formally introduced into society, I hadn’t worried about sending Ray to this event. If it weren’t for those customs, I would never have let Ray attend, knowing that every young person there would flock to him.

Anyway, it’s time to focus on the task at hand.

I tapped the steering wheel again and took a long drag from my cigarette.

Baron Minka Yankeri. The lead actor in tonight’s performance. Recently, he had gotten very close to Karl Vardi and had eagerly taken on the role of matchmaker, introducing Karl to several members of the Pusher faction.

I watched the glowing ember of my cigarette.

Pusher had always been underrated compared to Manen. Even when I followed Manen, they never received the same attention as Dryasnene or Revelz. No wonder their nickname was ‘the aging idol.’ If we hadn’t interrogated Ray… no, ‘Ryeong,’ my division heads and I might have underestimated Pusher as well. However, the only person Ryeong had ever praised was Pusher.

Ryeong’s prediction had hit the mark perfectly, leaving us embarrassed for doubting him.

Ever since Irina’s rise, Pusher had been biding his time, weighing whether to side with the queen or her rival. Recently, he had begun making moves to win over Karl. Yankeri’s matchmaking efforts were, in fact, directed by Pusher.

That wasn’t all. On Wednesday morning, a report landed on my desk. Pusher’s niece had been making moves on Karl, and Karl didn’t seem entirely opposed.

Coincidentally, that very afternoon, I ran into Karl at Altonen’s office. It was enough to make up my mind and dive into pre-production. Today, I finally gave the go-ahead.

I smiled, leaning back in my chair. It was all going smoothly. I had no intention of starting an all-out war yet. Tonight, I would simply hand out a polite yellow card.

Yankeri was utterly devoted to his mistress, a woman who was plain but had an impressively large chest. Two months ago, we had recruited Yankeri’s mistress and secured her cooperation. As promised, she had conveniently gone on a trip three days ago. And tonight, she returned to the capital with Yankeri to attend Sorel’s masquerade ball.

Just as I was about to put out my cigarette, my phone buzzed. It was Copperhead.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Where are you now?”

“Got it.”

I hung up and lit another cigarette. By the time I’d smoked it down to the filter, Cooperhead and Leopard’s car appeared in the distance, headlights flashing as they pulled in. I got out and made my way toward the mansion.

It was time to get to work.

I entered the ballroom leisurely. Everywhere the light touched, nobles were dancing. Yankerly was loitering at the spot the mistress had mentioned. I sipped my white wine slowly, keeping a close eye on my target.

Yankerly buried his face in the mistress’s chest, snickering. Suddenly, she slipped a handbag under the table to him. After cautiously scanning the room, Yankerly stood up.

I set my wine down. Picking up my phone, I said, “Let’s begin,” before leaving the ballroom. As reported, Sorel’s mansion was vast, with long, dim hallways. Only a few scattered candleholders faintly lit the darkness, making the mansion perfect for conducting secretive work. There were also plenty of small, discreet rooms.

I walked the hallway leisurely. Five minutes later, my phone vibrated with a message. Faster than I expected.

I went to the fifteenth room and knocked five times. Cooperhead opened the door. Leopard leaned comfortably against the wall, arms crossed, saying, “It ended quickly.” Sure enough, Yankerly was already out cold. His eyes were rolled back, and blood was dripping from his nose. His thighs and knees were smeared with cocaine powder.

I smiled softly, taking in the scene. It was quite a sight.

Yankerly was a junkie. This was intel even Guiger hadn’t managed to uncover before acquiring Ryeong’s notebook. The mistress, who had ties to a drug dealer, supplied him with drugs in exchange for her position. The reason he was so obsessed with his unattractive mistress, who had nothing going for her aside from her chest, was drugs.

According to

, Yankerly was a maniac who couldn’t go a day without snorting cocaine at least twice. No wonder he was suffering after going cold turkey for three days.

Wearing gloves, I grabbed a handful of white powder and tossed it into the air. The white powder drifted down like snowflakes, spreading throughout the old, dim bedroom.

By tomorrow morning, Pusher and Karl would each receive a letter. It would feature a drawing of the Grim Reaper on horseback, scythe in hand, roaming a desolate wasteland. The sender? The ‘Anti-Drug Committee.’

No one, aside from the mistress, knew that Yankerly was a junkie. This would demonstrate Guiger’s impressive intel network while also serving as a warning—hitting two birds with one stone. And the fact that both Pusher and Karl were present at this masquerade ball would surely make their blood run cold. Ha ha ha.

After dealing with Yankerly, I returned to the ballroom. I had already instructed Cooperhead and Leopard to leave first. Since the job was successfully completed, I planned to spend the rest of my time observing Ray.

The portrait unveiling had just begun. Sorel was stepping up to the podium. Ray was easy to spot—his auburn hair gleamed near the front of the stage.

I blended into the crowd, watching Ray. His attire was a result of my careful planning. It was a piece of art in itself, and the overall composition was quite stunning. Sipping my wine contentedly, I gave it four and a half stars out of five. Feeling pleased, I decided to take a closer look at the portrait too.

Hmm…

Surprisingly, the canvas was smaller than I expected. I hadn’t noticed in the artbook, but seeing it up close gave me a strange sense of déjà vu. It looked like that old actress from the

movie—Olivia something. The delicate features, long hair, and slender figure all resembled her. What kind of king would cast aside such a beauty? Was the mistress an even greater beauty?

Suddenly, I remembered the description of that left arm by Baron Bills. I quickly averted my gaze from the portrait. Damn that cursed story.

Scanning the attendees, I spotted Altonen in the distance. He was struggling to suppress a yawn while standing with the faction of silent nobles. To the right, Karl and his gang of playboys were fooling around. Pusher was, as usual, surrounded by his adoring lady fans, casually sipping his drink. Even today, he was as stylish as ever.

I snickered. They were so easy to read…

I could practically hear the gears turning in their heads. It was obvious. The famously anti-monarchist and richest man in the kingdom, Sorel, had suddenly invited the nobility to a masquerade ball.

But really, why did he invite them?

I scrutinized Sorel. Despite wearing a mask, his outfit was far from typical party attire. He was dressed in a faded striped t-shirt, old jeans, and worn-out sneakers. The holes in his shoes were so large that I could see his sock color from where I stood. He looked like he belonged on the street, collecting loose change.

“Thank you all for attending, ladies and gentlemen,” Sorel said.

Polite applause followed. Sorel scanned the audience, and his eyes were icy cold. There wasn’t a trace of the “commoner who’s finally come to his senses and preparing a well-packaged gift basket” that the nobles had expected.

“I’ll keep this short since I know you’re all busy. Frankly, I had my doubts when sending the invitations. I even bet my wife that none of the high-and-mighty royals and nobles would bother showing up to a party hosted by a notorious anti-monarchist like me. I figured if you had any self-respect, you’d never attend. I lost the bet.”

A chill swept through the hall.

“Turns out I lost all my money to my wife tonight. I was shocked to see just how little pride you nobles really have. Then again, given this painting’s honest depiction of the ‘blue bloods’—or should I say, pig’s blood—this outcome was to be expected. Ha ha ha.”

The crowd began to murmur. The gentleman next to me muttered, “What the hell did he just say?” Sorel grinned, his face radiating mischievous malice.

“Anyway, welcome. Please enjoy the event with your eyes wide open. This painting is a true treasure. It’s so valuable that the royal family calculated how much revenue it would generate from world tours over the next 200 years before naming a price for it. I had to take tranquilizers before signing the contract.”

Camera flashes went off like crazy. Journalists were furiously scribbling notes, and I stifled a laugh.

“Silence, please!”

Sorel slammed his fist on the podium. For someone who writes children’s books, his fists were the size of a heavyweight boxer’s. The nobles, who had been fuming, immediately quieted down.

“Isn’t it just bullshit? Whitebirch would probably think it’s an irony. The royal family, which neglected her during her lifetime, treated her portrait like a gold mine afterward. It’s actually a huge insult. They slaughtered Whitebirch and fattened themselves on the records of her life. There’s no other piece of art that exposes the royal family’s shameless greed as vividly as this one.”

As everyone became mute with shock, the sounds of flashing cameras and reporters tapping on their laptops filled the room. Sorel scanned the aristocrats with a burning gaze, then suddenly kicked the podium violently and shouted:

“This country needs to be purified! This painting must also be liberated from being a beggar’s tool for the pigs! Pigs that suck the blood of the people, step down! Abolish the monarchy!”

Screaming at the top of his lungs, he pulled something from behind the curtain. He drew it out like it was Excaliber. It was a gleaming axe. Even I, who had been looking forward to some entertainment, was left dumbfounded. No way.

Sorel spat into his palm, gripping the axe, and then swung it down at the painting. He struck it several times, the sound echoing loudly. Sorel laughed maniacally, “Hahahahaha!”

Watching it unfold, my entire body felt frozen. It was like an ice pick was driving into the back of my head.

“Stop that lunatic!”

“That’s a national treasure!”

“What are you doing?”

Screams erupted. Noblewomen fainted and collapsed in various parts of the hall. The speakers blared with a revolutionary song:

“Born as humans, we are all equal! We march over the blood of the nobles!”

Enraged noblemen rushed toward the stage but stopped halfway. The swarm of photographers around the podium turned the scene into chaos. By the time the noblemen managed to push through the photographers and reach the stage, Sorel had already shredded the portrait into tatters and was wiping the sweat from his forehead, smiling triumphantly.

The next morning, Sorel’s performance made the front page of the morning newspaper with the headline: “Oil King Sorel Arrested for Insulting the Royal Family!”

In the background of the article was a photo of Sorel gleefully chopping at the portrait of the Snow Queen with an axe. Because of that, the movie I had painstakingly directed was bumped to the second page. It sucked.

꙳•❅*ִ

Cold…

It was early evening, and the pale sun was setting. The sky felt dry and cold. A desolate wind howled through the snow-white Whitebirch forest. The sound of the wind seeped through the faded curtains by the window like tears.

Whitebirch was about to close the curtains when she suddenly stopped. From afar, she could clearly see the pointed roof of the palace. The gray hue of the roof looked like a sickle piercing her heart.

Sometimes she wondered. Was this tower like the Whitebirch forest outside her window, abandoned by everyone, withering away like the purple iris garden? Was there someone here, too, forgotten and left to die quietly? Is that why no one paid any attention to this tower?

Snow had been falling desolately for days. The well in the tower was frozen solid due to the harsh cold, but today, it seemed like she could finally bathe. The nanny had promised to melt snow for the bathwater, asking her to wait a little longer. Whitebirch turned a page in her book, lost in thought.

A queen bathing in snow…

She couldn’t help but smile. The women beneath that pointed gray roof outside were probably covered in fleas and dandruff, unlike her, who had nothing to do but bathe and look into mirrors. Meanwhile, those women attended balls every day, exchanged love letters with their lovers, filled their tables with colorful flowers, and ordered satin dresses—they probably didn’t even have time to bathe.

The wind sounded harsh and lonely. The old curtains fluttered like the tattered robes of criminals hung at the gallows. Whitebirch reached out toward the window.

Ah…

I opened my eyes. It was quiet. The sound of the old curtains brushing against the window and the wind that was even more desolate than night had disappeared like smoke.

It had been a long time since I dreamt of Whitebirch. And of all things, it was a heart-wrenching dream. It would have been better if it had been an anger-inducing one… I got up, thinking.

The phone had been ringing loudly for a while. “Hello,” I answered.

“Why did you take so long to pick up?”

“I was taking a nap. But, Messara, what about you?”

“Ha-ha. I just thought of you.”

“Work must be slow these days, huh?”

“How did you know? It’s so slow I’m starting to wonder if the place will shut down.”

Messara’s cheeky response made me laugh. After talking a bit more, I hung up the phone. I felt melancholic. Ever since Whitebirch’s portrait was destroyed, I had been like this. For the past ten days, I’d been living like a sluggish caterpillar.

“Pathetic, really pathetic.”

To lift my spirits, I brewed a cup of tea. I dumped in a bunch of sugar and stirred it with a spoon. It still didn’t feel real. Whitebirch’s portrait had been torn to shreds, reduced to rags.

Sorel wasn’t wrong. It was an insult to have the royal family, who had murdered Whitebirch, fatten themselves off her portrait. But to turn it into rags…

That portrait was the only keepsake left. It was also a valuable historical relic. Yet experts said the portrait was irreparably damaged, with no way to restore it other than by stitching it together. That troublemaker Sorel was released on bail yesterday. Freebird members placed a wreath around his neck as he walked out of the detention center, showering him with applause. Among the common people, Sorel had become a hero.

I pressed my temples. Get a grip, Ray Arisa. Why did you go there? Wasn’t it to finally close the chapter?

The moment I saw the portrait, I was shocked. The cracks and peeling paint were so visible. Like cobwebs in an abandoned attic, countless cracks covered the portrait. Six hundred years of time, the distant past that had long faded into ancient texts, had left its mark on the canvas.

It was truly old… I murmured, just before the axe struck Whitebirch. It came down like death itself, sudden and destructive.

So, pull yourself together, Ray Arisa.

After placing the teacup on the table, I started getting ready to go out. Lady Castlemaine had received two tickets as a gift and invited me to a painting exhibition. As I changed my clothes, I repeated to myself again: Pull yourself together, Ray Arisa.

Pull yourself together.

The portrait was gone. Just like the cracks that had covered the painting, this vivid memory would gradually erode over time. Ray Arisa’s reliable indifference would eventually resolve it. It had to.

For the first time in a while, I put on my shaman’s coat. The fashionable Messara detested this old coat, calling it the “Monk Coat.” I never understood why. It was perfect for covering the whole body, stains didn’t show easily, and it was a highly practical garment, even in the coldest winter winds.

“What on earth are you wearing? My goodness! You look like a medieval witch!”

Even Mrs. Castlemaine was shocked. A medieval witch, huh? That made me smile quietly.

Not exactly wrong.

We set off in Mrs. Castlemaine’s car. 33rd Street, where the gallery was located, was a bustling area filled with high-rise buildings. The exhibition was being held on the sixth floor of a sleek, silver building. I thought that even though it might not help much, I could use the change of scenery from the gallery to clear my head and maybe come up with some ideas for my manuscript.

It was a weekday, and likely because of the heavy snow, there weren’t many visitors. We were halfway through the gallery when Mrs. Castlemaine’s phone rang. She turned pale as she answered.

“Ray, what a disaster. My husband just suddenly got stomach pains. I’m afraid I have to rush to the hospital. I’m so sorry, but you go ahead and enjoy yourself at your own pace.”

“Oh dear, no need to apologize! I should be the one saying sorry.”

“Don’t worry. The man tends to exaggerate a bit. See you later.”

Mrs. Castlemaine hurried out of the gallery. I resumed my slow tour. I figured I could take my time with the exhibition and then just take the subway home. But as I reached the end of the exhibit, I suddenly remembered my wallet. I hastily checked my coat pockets. What a disaster.

I was frustrated. There were only a few coins left—barely enough for the subway fare.

“This is unbelievable, just unbelievable.”

Sighing heavily, I headed to the gallery’s public phone. I explained the situation to Messara and asked if he could come pick me up. Messara suggested we grab dinner and check out the ice festival while we were at it. He told me to wait for two hours and then hung up.

For someone like Ray Arisa, who had mastered the art of passing the time, two hours would fly by. I came down to the first-floor lounge and took a seat. The space was bare, save for a large fountain and a multi-screen display. The news was on, broadcast on public television for the first time in a long while.

It was a royal family update, detailing the queen’s recent outfits and meals. The queen, with her captivating dark hair and lively spirit, remained the darling of the royal family despite Lord Manen’s fall from grace. Both the public and the media eagerly followed her style.

The announcer was now describing the dish the queen had recently become fond of—crab. It was a special dish created by the royal chef, and apparently, she had been indulging in it often.

I frowned. Crab? Why would they use such an ingredient? The queen had always had a sweet tooth.

The camera panned over the queen’s dining table. The more I watched the dishes, the more I felt my breath quicken. I loosened my hood and pounded on my chest, feeling a suffocating tightness, as if I were being choked.

Don’t overthink this, Ray Arisa.

You’ve cut ties with political affairs now. You shouldn’t care. You must not care.

But no matter how much I repeated that to myself, it was useless. My brain was already turning, processing on its own. The conclusion came quickly. I stood there, stunned. It felt like cold water had been poured over me.

Could it be…?

No, no way. The queen lost her influence in the political arena after her father fell from power. Maybe I was just overthinking it.

But, just in case…

“Excuse me, but…”

Suddenly, someone tapped my shoulder. Startled, I instinctively turned my head. There stood a man.

A stranger. Who could it be…? I hurriedly pulled my hood back over my head. The man let out a hearty laugh.

“Don’t you recognize me? Even without the mask, I’m feeling a bit down.”

“Oh…”

I nodded. The voice was familiar. It was the so-called “Hollywood Actor.” Even with a mask, his striking features had been clear, but his bare face was even more handsome.

The man sat down beside me, smiling.

“I recognized you by your hair. You don’t often see such long, golden hair like yours in a lifetime. And to meet you again after only ten days—it feels like fate, doesn’t it? What brings you here?”

“I came for the watercolor exhibition.”

I answered curtly, glancing at my watch. If Messara saw this situation, things would definitely get bloody. Messara, with his obsessive jealousy, would react violently, especially if he saw me with this guy. Fortunately, there was still some time before Messara arrived.

Unaware of my thoughts, the man smiled innocently.

“You mean the watercolor exhibition on the sixth floor? What a coincidence, I’m here to see that too. It wasn’t widely advertised, so there weren’t many visitors, but I’m glad you made it. You must be quite interested in art?”

“I just tagged along because a neighbor invited me.”

“Ah, I see. You must have a lot of friends. Is this the same neighbor who lent you the dress and necklace?”

The man pulled out a cigarette and nudged me with his elbow. I shook my head.

“No, not her.”

He squinted at me, looking me over carefully.

“…Excuse me, but that really is an old coat, isn’t it? Honestly, when you said you ran a small shop, I thought you were just joking, but seeing you like this, you really do look like a mysterious witch. Who would imagine that behind this eerie coat hides a golden-haired spirit, ha!”

The “golden-haired spirit.” What a ridiculous description.

“I’ve never considered myself beautiful.”

“Well, you must have very high standards. If your hair isn’t beautiful, mine must be pig bristles. By the way, you mentioned you run a small shop. Is it located on 42nd Street by any chance?”

“How did you know that?”

Even without meaning to, my voice rose. The man said, “How did I know?,” and pushed back the hood of my coat. As a result, my hair tumbled down.

“I recognized you because of the coat. It’s the type that sorcerers usually wear, isn’t it? I figured as much since sorcerers typically live around 42nd Street.”

“Interesting. A nobleman who knows about sorcerers’ coats.”

I pulled my hood back on and spoke. The man shrugged.

“Actually, my younger sister is very interested in sorcery, so I learned about it in passing.”

“Ah, I see…”

“But what brings you here at this hour, not working? And where did your companion go?”

“Business has been slow around this time, so we closed the shop. The woman who came with me left earlier because her husband suddenly fell ill. Unfortunately, I left my wallet behind, so I’ve been waiting for a friend to pick me up since I didn’t have any fare.”

“Quite the dramatic story. So, are you only working as a sorcerer now? Judging by that coat, you don’t seem to be an ordinary one.”

I smiled awkwardly.

“No, I haven’t worked as a sorcerer in quite some time.”

“Then are you just… idling around?”

“I’m not idle. Around this time, I usually make a living by attaching doll eyes, crafting artificial flowers, or sealing envelopes—side jobs like that.”

“…I see.”

The man blinked in disbelief, looking rather dumbfounded. Even to me, my answer sounded increasingly absurd.

The man asked, “By the way, how old are you?” I tilted my head. “My age?,” I echoed. It was a bit odd to be asked that right after meeting someone. Shouldn’t introductions come first?

Wondering if this was some German custom, I answered, “Twenty-eight.” The man was startled, exclaiming, “Twenty-eight?” His voice was quite loud, and his reaction surprised me even more.

“Yes? Yes… I’m twenty-eight.”

“You don’t look anywhere near that. At most, I would’ve guessed seventeen or eighteen. Wow, that’s quite the youthful face you’ve got. I’m jealous.”

“There’s no need to be jealous. It was just annoying when I tried to buy cigarettes back in the day.”

“Hahaha, you’re full of surprises! You even smoked? With that baby face? This is really interesting. Let me see.”

The man offered me a cigarette pack. I was baffled by the ‘baby face’ comment, but I was in a gloomy mood anyway, so I pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

The man also took out a cigarette and said, “You seem to be quite interested in Whitebirch. The fact that the picky Mr. Sorel gave you a masquerade ball ticket shows as much. Did you learn sorcery inspired by Whitebirch?”

I almost laughed out loud.

“Even if I’m interested in Whitebirch, copying those bogus spells would only bring harm to my clients. I just happened to stumble into this path.”

“…Huh.”

The man hesitated as he was about to light his cigarette.

“You said Whitebirch used bogus spells? How did you know that?”

“Well…”

I flinched. Only Ray Arisa knew about Whitebirch’s fake spells. This guy was sharp. He caught onto a detail most people would overlook, starkly contrasting his Playboy-like appearance.

After a moment of contemplation, I decided to provide an explanation under the guise of interpretation. Slowly rubbing the edge of the chair, I began speaking.

“Just the fact that Levitan gave birth successfully is proof it was fake magic. Curses typically use sympathetic or imitative magic that requires a part of the target’s body, like hair or nails. But Whitebirch, trapped in the tower, wouldn’t have had access to a single strand of Levitan’s hair.”

“Ah.”

“Another way would have been to pay a professional witch a large sum to perform a black mass, but Whitebirch wouldn’t have had that kind of money. Resorting to bogus spells floating around among common folk was probably his best option. That’s why the investigators never found any sorcery tools in the tower. The only tool Whitebirch needed was his silver tongue.”

“Interesting. But historians believe Whitebirch was framed by the king. Well, your take is certainly fresh.”

“Fresh, is it?”

I smiled bitterly. The man tapped his cigarette ash and said,

“In any case, this is fascinating. By the way, you seem quite sharp.”

“I don’t know about being sharp, but I’m well aware I don’t look too bright.”

“Haha, you’re very straightforward. But hey—”

The man grinned. “Yes?” I responded.

“Shall we move to a different place? It’s getting cold sitting here talking.”

The man pulled out several checks from his wallet and stuffed them into the pocket of my coat.

“Isn’t this better? It’s easier than making money sewing doll eyes or crafting flowers, isn’t it? And besides, you’re not a maiden anymore, right?”

“…”

I slowly put out my cigarette.

I took the checks out of my coat pocket and stuffed them back into his.

“You’ve misunderstood me. I’ll be going now.”

The man’s face stiffened.

“Then, take care on your way back, noble sir.”

“Wait, at least your name…” I shook him off and quickly exited the building.

I walked down the street, trying to suppress my discomfort. Had I just been treated like a street prostitute? Still, he didn’t seem like an ordinary man. He looked like someone who would perform quite well if he threw himself into political conflicts. Perhaps, he already had.

As that thought crossed my mind, a chill ran through me. I hurriedly shook my head. Don’t pay attention to it, Ray Arisa.

Politics is no longer your path.

The sun was being pushed aside by dark clouds. It was early evening, with sunlight barely peeking through the flurries. Beyond the new town buildings, the distant cathedral tower faintly tolled its bell. Soon, all the bells in the city began to chime, filling the surroundings with their sounds.

A strange melancholy washed over me. Why? Was it because of that Viola Cathedral, its golden roof still gleaming in the distance? Or was it because of a portrait that no longer existed?

Viola Cathedral…

I hated that cathedral. I hated it deeply.

A part of my chest ached. It felt like my heart was being crushed under merciless hooves. I lowered my gaze and kept walking.

Black cars lined the road like a funeral procession. The gray clouds sluggishly drifted by, leading flocks of crows. The streetlights illuminated the damp fog, and the night, with its cold breath, began to awaken. Suddenly, a sense of loneliness crept over me.

Loneliness?

I laughed involuntarily. Someone like me, who was accustomed to solitude, feeling lonely? Had I become a tamed fox?

A tamed fox…

Had I really become a tamed fox?

Perhaps.

It was still vivid. It felt like it could surround me at any moment. The sound of pipes and drums scattered like fallen leaves on a full moon night, the girls selling red flowers, the young men and women staggering drunkenly, and the cold that seemed to freeze even blood, seeping from the black prison. The cruel king I encountered on that summer night, his torches burning in the square. His sweet words, looks, and gestures, like a poison-coated apple.

Pathetic…

I laughed again. But despite knowing it, I found myself stepping into a phone booth. I inserted a coin and dialed the number. That’s how deeply addicted I was to him. To the sound of shoes creaking on wooden boards, the violent knock on the door, the warmth that melted my entire body, and the crisp wind stirred up by the sled. I couldn’t help but crave the selfish yet charming king.

Once again, the king had fed me the poisoned apple called love.

From the billboard of a towering building, red lights flared up like fireworks. Flashy advertisements danced wildly. Suddenly, the ringing of bells that had filled the city abruptly ceased, as if the sound had been shattered. Without thinking, I glanced at the billboard and then froze.

“February 2129, a new fragrance is coming to you.”

2129…

In that moment, an overwhelming flood of emotions hit me. It felt disorienting. After staring at the billboard for a while, I turned my head toward the road.

In the cold distance, the headlights of a car sparkled. The lights grew closer, gradually becoming brighter. It was Messara’s car. It reminded me of that day. The day I stepped into a phone booth.

I blankly stared at the approaching lights. I wasn’t the only one who had been tamed…

I had tamed Four Messara too.

Suddenly, a strange impulse surged within me. It was similar to lust. No, it was definitely lust. I wanted to hold Messara. I wanted to bury my face in his firm chest, inhaling his scent. Without realizing it, I took a step forward. Before I knew it, I was running, almost pushed forward by the urge. The wind, cold and mocking, slapped against my cheeks.

Messara’s car stopped in the distance, and he quickly stepped out. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw me running toward him. But soon, he opened his arms wide and smiled.

“Hahaha. What’s this? Running to me so suddenly?”

Messara hugged me as I jumped into his arms. I hugged him back. His shirt carried a faint scent. It was the smell of cigarettes. Messara pushed my coat’s hood back and ran his fingers through my hair. His lips touched mine. After a long kiss, he pulled away.

“The snow’s falling hard. Let’s get inside, it’s cold.”

Messara opened the car door and took my hand, leading me inside. As I sat down, I glanced at the side mirror. The man from earlier was leaving the gallery building.

꙳•❅*ִ

Ray kept glancing at me. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but the more it happened, the more suspicious it seemed. His pupils were slightly hazy, and his lips trembled.

What’s with Ray?

Could it be that he wants to do it?

It seemed like that was the case. It was the same reaction he usually had when I teased him playfully during sex. I was surprised, as it wasn’t something Ray did often.

It also made me feel good. Unlike me, Ray was usually quite reserved when it came to sex. He responded eagerly when we did it, but he almost never initiated. In fact, I could count the times he did on one hand. One such instance was the day he seduced me with Mackerel.

Haha. Well, I have no reason not to indulge him.

I smiled slightly and pulled the car into an alley. Ray dropped his gaze to his knees. Normally, he would have asked, “Why did you stop the car?” but he remained silent.

As expected…

I brought my hand to Ray’s neck, gently caressing his soft, pale skin. I decided to wait until he asked for it himself. I liked it when Ray begged for things. That’s why I sometimes made him ask for it during sex, either directly or by coaxing him into it. This time would be no different.

I took my time, gently caressing his neck. Ray remained stubbornly silent, but the warmth radiating from his body betrayed his efforts. At this rate, it wouldn’t take long before I heard what I wanted to hear.

Let’s see how long you can hold out…