The Snow Queen

Ray glanced over at me with an embarrassed expression. It was strange—why wasn’t that beastly man making a move? He clearly wanted to, but his unease was obvious. Still, I persistently only teased his earlobes and the back of his neck. As expected, he didn’t last long.

Ray leaned back deeply in the chair and pulled his sweater up to his neck, revealing his pale chest in the darkness. After a moment of hesitation, he murmured:

“Do it… Please.”

Of course.

I smirked. Without hesitation, I lowered my head to his chest. I liked Ray’s nipples. Small, sensitive, and sweet. Most men wouldn’t even feel much stimulation there, but Ray was one of the rare ones whose chest was highly erogenous. Even just sucking here could make him shudder.

I spent a long time sucking, nibbling, and licking Ray’s chest, making sure he was satisfied. I soaked him with saliva until he was dripping. While doing this, I stripped him completely naked. As always, his body gave off a soft scent of soap.

I was fully excited now. I spread Ray’s legs as wide as possible and indulged myself. I ran my tongue over his golden pubic hair and sucked until he came. Twice. His thighs trembled, and he moaned. The sight of his dazed, dilated pupils was thrilling.

It was pleasurable but frustrating. Normally, I would have already buried myself inside him and climaxed, but we had a restaurant reservation, so it wasn’t possible. I unzipped my pants and pressed Ray’s head down. Unfortunately, this would have to do for now.

“Hurry.”

I urged him, running my fingers through his auburn hair. Without hesitation, Ray took me into his mouth. His suction was intense from the start. He must have been dying to suck me. I watched Ray as he eagerly worked on me.

It was quite a sight. His usual self was nowhere to be seen in this obscene display. Ray, aware of my gaze, lowered his eyelashes, but his body couldn’t lie. The way he sucked harder showed his true feelings. He was desperate to swallow my release, craving it.

His boldness amused me. I pressed down on Ray’s head and pushed deeper. My hips moved faster, my balls slapping against his chin. He must have felt like his mouth was tearing, but I continued with rough thrusts. I knew Ray enjoyed this kind of roughness.

Ray’s technique was still clumsy. As I fondled his nipples, I gave instructions: “Lick the balls too,” and “Use your tongue more.” The tingling sensation that signaled my climax spread through my body. I pushed myself as deep into Ray’s throat as possible and released. While doing so, I gently squeezed his neck. His soft throat muscles immediately contracted, squeezing the tip of me tightly.

The sensation shot through me. Ray’s fingers trembled as he gripped my shoulders. The orgasm spun through my entire body. Only after finishing did I release his neck. I lifted Ray’s chin. He was panting heavily, and a thin stream of white fluid dripped from his glossy lips.

Suddenly, a wave of uncontrollable emotion hit me. Ray looked unbearably lovable. How could he be so endearing, all disheveled like that? I really was an incorrigible sadist.

What kind of person am I…?

I let out a bitter laugh and pulled him into a hug. The soft sensation of his naked body against my rough shirt felt good. I ran my hand down his warm back. Ray also draped his arms lazily around my shoulders, leaning into me. For a moment, we caught our breath, our bodies pressed together.

After the lingering heat faded, I spoke.

“Was it good?”

Ray nodded, starting to put his clothes back on. I zipped up my pants as well. For a light encounter, it had been quite satisfying.

“But what’s with you today? Even when you ran up to me earlier, you were begging for it.”

“Begging?” Ray said as he pulled on his sweater. I shrugged.

“Yeah, begging. It’s the first time since that time you lured me in with the mackerel.”

“Lured?” Ray furrowed his brow.

“That wasn’t luring.”

“Oh, it was. You lured me with talk of mackerel, brought me to your place… haha. You were bold back then. So why act surprised now? You’re making me feel awkward.”

At my cheerful response, Ray blushed. I grabbed the wheel and started the car.

“We never even got to eat the mackerel. But that was definitely luring, wasn’t it? I don’t think I misunderstood. You even begged me to put it in back then.”

“…I guess I did.”

Ray gave an embarrassed smile and turned to look out the window. As I turned a corner at the intersection, I tilted my head in thought. Was it really not a seduction? Did he really just want to feed me mackerel?

I quickly dismissed the doubt. It didn’t make sense. If that wasn’t seduction, what was? What man on earth would take that as just an offer to eat mackerel?

It was obvious. Not understanding that would make me a fool. It was like a teenage girl inviting her boyfriend over by saying, “My parents are out of town, so the house is empty. Want to come over?” or a single woman asking her male coworker, “Want to have a drink at my place tonight?”

More than that, as soon as we got to his place, Ray had taken off his underwear and spread his legs. He begged me to put it in while giving me a smoldering look that set my body on fire. It was blatant seduction.

To now pretend he wasn’t luring me, as if he hadn’t dragged me to his place on purpose—how unfair. I felt like I was being made out to be the weird one.

I just shrugged again. Ray really was a unique character.

We headed toward 25th Street. It took us 30 minutes just to find parking because of the crowds gathered for the ice festival. We went to the Chinese restaurant I had reserved. Ray and I enjoyed our meal and conversation.

“How was the watercolor exhibition? Worth seeing?”

“It was nice. The simplicity of it made me feel relaxed.”

“I’m glad.”

I smiled as I took a drink.

It had been a pretty good day. Today’s report mentioned that Pusher had been steadily sending gifts to the Queen lately, a sign he’d given up on recruiting Karl.

Two days after Yankerly’s death, Karl broke up with Pusher’s niece. Since then, he hadn’t been seen walking around at any parties, only occasionally visiting art exhibitions. The so-called “anti-drug campaign” was proving quite entertaining.

Meanwhile, Ray, who had been a source of worry for me, finally seemed to be recovering. He’d spent the last ten days feeling down and not eating much, but today, he seemed more energetic. The fact that he had initiated the intimate encounter was a good sign.

I smiled warmly at Ray.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Ray asked, looking flustered and lowering his head. I apologized and picked up my chopsticks again. From where I sat, I could catch the familiar scent of Ray’s body, that milky soap he loved to use.

Had Ray spent the day naked again?

The thought made me feel like a pervert. What kind of person had I become?

I hadn’t mentioned it to Ray, but there were surveillance cameras installed throughout the house. The security company had recommended them, and they were connected to my personal laptop with a live feed feature. When I asked if it was necessary to have cameras inside the house as well, the salesperson insisted:

“Working moms often use this to check if the babysitter is mistreating their child. It’s also useful in case of break-ins during the day. Trust me, you’ll be glad you have it.”

After much persuasion, I reluctantly agreed and then promptly forgot about them.

Up until a week ago, I hadn’t even thought about checking the feed. After all, Ray and I didn’t have a baby, and I wasn’t worried about burglars. The kingdom’s harsh winters were enough to send even thieves into hibernation like bears. The cameras would have remained useless if Ray hadn’t fallen into a state of lethargy after the Snow Queen portrait was destroyed.

One week ago, on a whim, I decided to check the footage, thinking I might as well get some use out of it. Ray had been so down lately, I wondered if he was still feeling that way… and then I saw it. Ray had no idea how much I was shocked that first moment. I even questioned my own sanity, wondering if the feed was malfunctioning.

But no, the monitor clearly showed Ray, stark naked except for an apron, busily preparing dinner. The high-definition feed left nothing to the imagination.

I would never have imagined it. How could I? Ray, who usually wore a neutral expression, was now dressed in an outfit that seemed ripped from the pages of a provocative photo shoot in a gay magazine.

At first, I thought maybe Ray had only decided to be naked while making dinner that one time. I couldn’t begin to guess why. But the next day, I checked the feed again, and to my shock, there he was, naked once more, wearing only red rubber gloves while washing the dishes.

Even then, I thought maybe it was just a coincidence—perhaps Ray just happened to be naked every time I checked. But when I looked again at different times, the results were the same. I saw Ray tending to the greenhouse, stark naked except for a pair of black rubber boots. Realizing I might give myself a heart attack, I quickly turned off the camera.

Then, a memory surfaced. That day we worked on the doll’s eyes together, Ray had greeted me in a robe, nothing underneath. I finally understood—this was a habit of his. Ray had developed the habit of living naked after spending so much time alone. It was his “secret.”

From that day on, I found myself eagerly looking forward to coming home after work, secretly hoping Ray might greet me in one of those provocative, apron-only outfits. But I was always disappointed. Ray would be fully dressed, like Karl, every time he greeted me.

Still, I couldn’t shake that faint glimmer of hope, and yesterday, I even gave him a high-end apron as a gift, accompanied by a meaningful glance. Ray simply wrapped it around his pajamas, went to the kitchen, and returned with two slices of cheese muffins. “Late-night snacks aren’t good for your health,” he said, smiling quietly while I froze.

I was disappointed, puzzled even. Why was he so daring when alone but so reserved in front of me? It’s not like we hadn’t been intimate before. After everything, wasn’t this just another part of our relationship?

I sipped my drink, feeling a bit perplexed. People really are confusing…

After finishing our meal, we headed to the streets, where a festival was underway. Citizens were carving their own ice sculptures as part of the festivities. We spent some time looking at the various amusing creations and even made a snowman together. It was fun. After a while, needing to catch our breath, we began walking again.

That’s when I made eye contact with a group walking toward us. A chill ran up my spine.

It was Copperhead and Leopard.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. Neither could they. We all just stood there, frozen, blending into the rows of ice sculptures lining the streets.

Of all the people to run into here, it had to be them. And of course, they had to see me having fun with Ray.

Leopard and Copperhead weren’t alone either. Copperhead was with the sexy single mom he’d been pursuing recently, even pushing a stroller to impress her. Leopard had a handsome bottom clinging to his side.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Leopard’s partner teased, swaying his hips. Leopard flinched, as if snapping back to reality, while Copperhead’s mouth twitched in amusement. They both looked like they had just stumbled upon a zombie digging its way out of a grave.

I gave a brief nod in greeting and hurried past them. I had no choice. Not only had Leopard seen us, but so had Copperhead. It was only a matter of time before news of our reunion spread to the higher-ups. I braced myself for what was to come.

The next morning, as expected, the moment I arrived at the office, I was met with cold stares. Leopard pretended to be absorbed in the newspaper.

The bosses ranted all morning, only to shift tactics by lunchtime. They began trying to convince me, bringing up how dangerous Rayong was, suggesting that I might be under a spell, and even offering to introduce me to other blond beauties. By the end, their desperation was almost comical.

I kept my expression neutral. By 3 PM, the first to surrender was Jaguar, who gritted his teeth and muttered, “I thought you looked a little too radiant lately.” After that, one by one, the other bosses waved their white flags. In exchange for their acceptance, they demanded I submit a report on Rayong once a week.

I agreed without protest. We were professionals, after all, and knew how to keep our personal and work lives separate. That evening, I left the office smiling. No matter how formidable the opposition, I was always the one who had the last laugh. It had always been that way, and the bosses were no exception.

Ha, ha, ha!

꙳•❅*ִ

I dropped the letter into the mailbox. The recipient was the broadcasting station that aired a program about the queen. I figured there would be others who might point out the issues, but sending the letter felt like a load off my mind. After mailing it, I hailed a taxi and headed to the market.

I had been preoccupied with the matter of the queen for the past two days. The meals shown on the broadcast about the queen’s dining table often featured ingredients that didn’t pair well together. Over time, this could affect her health, especially since she was currently pregnant—a concern that couldn’t be overlooked.

Feeding dangerous food to induce a miscarriage in the queen or a concubine—such methods were common throughout history, both in the East and the West.

So, who was the culprit?

I had two theories. First, while I had withdrawn from the political struggle, a new faction had risen, one that could benefit from the queen’s miscarriage.

The second theory was that it was Guiger. Fearing that the queen might regain influence after childbirth, Messara might have bribed the queen’s chef.

In my view, the first theory was most likely, and I’d bet 99 percent on it. The chances of it being Guiger were slim. Guiger had an excellent information network, and knowing full well about the queen’s infidelities, it would have been much easier for them to leak scandalous photos to the media.

In any case, this was all I could do regarding the matter. The rest was up to the queen’s fate.

I got out of the taxi and entered the market. I was planning a small party for tomorrow’s lunch, inviting some neighbors over. Messara and I had agreed to start preparing for it this afternoon, and there was a mountain of things to buy. After purchasing everything on my list, I headed to the baby goods section.

Yesterday, Sonia had called to tell me she was pregnant. She was convinced it would be a girl, based on a dream she had, and nagged, “You’re going to buy me something, right?” I needed to get a plant reference book soon anyway, so I figured I’d stop by the secondhand bookstore on 42nd Street, meet Sonia, and give her the gift.

Not sure what to choose, I followed a woman around, picking up the same items she did. After roughly selecting a gift, I headed toward the escalator. I hadn’t gone far before I hesitated and retraced my steps.

“Uh…”

I furrowed my brows. On the cover of a magazine displayed on the bookshelf in the literature section was a familiar face. It was none other than “Hollywood actor so-and-so.” I picked up the weekly magazine and flipped through it. The headline read, “Duke Karl Vardi Makes a Dramatic Entrance into the Entertainment World!”

Inheriting the title from his late father, Duke Kaiza Vardi, Karl Vardi has made a stunning debut in high society. Not only has he captured the hearts of noblewomen with his handsome looks and impeccable manners, but he is also set to release a piano album and appear in a theatrical production. During his time in Germany, the duke swept through numerous competitions as a promising pianist and played lead roles in professional theater. With this, he makes his full-fledged entrance into the art world…

“So, it turns out he wasn’t just a so-called Hollywood actor but a real actor,” I muttered, bewildered. The article was followed by a spread of his photoshoots. No wonder he had asked if I had lived abroad when we met. I returned the magazine to the shelf and pushed my cart forward.

The Vardi family…

As I pushed the cart, I fell into thought.

Karl Vardi’s father, Kaiza Vardi, had been unable to participate in political struggles due to his health, specifically because of his diabetes. In this kingdom, political battles were often waged at parties. The saying “enduring the party” had become almost synonymous with political maneuvering. For the nobles, balls, social gatherings, salons, tea parties, and festivals were like a religion.

“Enduring the party.” In other words, you had to eat and drink massive amounts of food and wine, navigate the intricate etiquette and protocols with ease, always keep a smile on your face no matter how infuriating things got, and endure hypocrisy and lies with unwavering composure.

Kaiza Vardi couldn’t handle any of that because of his diabetes. Without his illness, he would have been a powerful player in the political arena. That was the conclusion I had come to after my research as Ryeong.

Perhaps that was why his son, Karl, had such a sharp eye.

I unloaded the items from my cart and paid for them. After placing the shopping bags in hand, I headed toward a public phone booth.

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. A man born with everything—handsome looks, artistic talent, wealth, and a noble title. A far cry from a coward like me, who had nothing but this accursed hair. Suddenly, I found myself wondering why Messara loved someone as insignificant as me.

Maybe I should ask her today.

Chuckling at the thought, I slipped some coins into the phone. Messara had told me to call when I arrived, as she would be passing by the market after work. She answered on the third ring, saying she had just arrived and was about to enter the market.

I turned around and saw Messara approaching, waving at me. We loaded the groceries into the car trunk and I climbed into the passenger seat.

“Oh? What’s this gay magazine?”

As I buckled my seatbelt, I widened my eyes in surprise. Normally, the car would be littered with cigarette butts in plastic bags, but today, a gay magazine was neatly placed on the dashboard. Even I, who wasn’t very perceptive, could immediately tell what kind of magazine it was. The title,

, was suggestive enough, but more than that, the cover featured a man wearing bunny ears licking a banana.

Messara turned on the heater and explained.

“After lunch, I stopped by the bookstore but couldn’t find any good books. Then this magazine caught my eye. The photoshoots were really appealing to me, so I bought it.”

“What kind of photoshoots?”

“Haha, have a look yourself. It’s pretty light, so it shouldn’t be too overwhelming.”

Messara said cheerfully. I began flipping through the magazine, surprised that Messara had bought something like this.

It’s not strange for a gay person to look at a gay magazine, but I still didn’t expect it from Messara. It just didn’t fit her image. She always seemed like the type to scoff at something as mundane as a gay magazine, like some jaded pervert. In fact, you wouldn’t find a single gay magazine lying around the house.

So, the photoshoots are appealing, huh? And they’re just her style? I wondered what was so impressive that Messara had praised them so much, and I slowly turned the pages. As expected from a magazine called

, most of the models had pretty, boyish looks. To my relief, there were no explicit sex scenes. The content was, as Messara said, light.

The models, standing in a pastel-pink living room, were naked except for colorful aprons, smiling for the camera. The spread was titled “Apron Special.” I remembered seeing similar costume photos in adult magazines that sometimes came into the secondhand bookstore.

Sexual imagination is the same whether you’re straight or gay, I guess.

However, this magazine seemed too tame for Messara’s supposed kinky tastes. I quickly flipped through the pages. The next spread showed nude men lounging lazily on a beach, resembling a

photoshoot with a focus on artistic expression. As I kept turning the pages, the artistic quality deepened. It seemed like the magazine’s aim was art rather than obscenity. The final spread, in particular, stood out.

The title was

. The photo featured mud-covered men writhing intensely at a ruined construction site, their white teeth bared in grimaces. The raw, vivid portrayal of pain was so powerful that even I flinched. And yet, there was an oddly compelling sensuality to it. It broke the conventional expectation of titillating images in adult magazines.

Wow, this is impressive… I was admiring the photos when suddenly, my cheek began to sting. Startled, I looked up, only to find Messara gazing intently at me, a slight tension in her expression.

“Why is he acting like that? That’s not like Messara. Is he curious about my thoughts?”

“Well? Do you now understand why I bought that magazine?”

Messara asked with a smile. I nodded and replied, “Yes, I think I understand.”

I had a sense of it. If Messara were to praise a photo shoot, there could only be one reason. The expressions twisted in agony and the desperate struggling fit Messara’s peculiar perversion perfectly. Without hesitation, I opened up “Men Groaning Under Capitalism.”

“This is enough to deserve your high praise. I like it, too.”

Messara didn’t move for a while.

“…Yes.”

He blinked and answered. After a moment, he shrugged his shoulders and said,

“It’s surprising. I didn’t expect Ray to like mudpacks.”

“Huh? Mudpacks?”

I asked, puzzled. Messara started the car without answering.

Mudpack? What on earth does he mean? I looked again at the photos. Naked men were rolling around in the mud, their bodies completely covered. Only much later did I wonder—does Messara think I enjoy rolling around in the mud like that during sex?

I quickly dismissed the thought. It was absurd. Messara is sharp and clever; there’s no way he would make such a silly assumption.

It had to be a joke.

I closed the magazine and put it on the dashboard. Even though I had no explanation for dragging Messara into that situation using Mackerel as an excuse, this was different. I almost died of embarrassment the other day when Messara said something like, “Tempting me with Mackerel…” I never thought he would interpret it that way. Not even for a second.

Temptation? On that day, I must have looked like a drenched donkey with its fur matted and ears drooping from the rain.

Given that, I had always assumed Messara understood perfectly well that it was nothing more than a mistake, the result of a feverish impulse in the moment. I was absolutely certain of it. But temptation? Was that why, instead of refusing when I said to put it in, he responded, “It’s better to do it naked, isn’t it?” Could that be why he jumped in without any hesitation, putting all his energy into it?

I was shocked. And to think he believed I was trying to seduce him with Mackerel. Was this perversion? The idea was astonishing. There are people who might use perfume, but using a fish that smells like the sea as a tool of seduction? How does Messara view me to come up with such thoughts so easily?

I stared at Ray Arisa’s reflection in the window. As always, I looked blank. Today, I seemed particularly similar to those blonde beauties who appear on adult channels every three seconds, as if their brains weighed one gram and they could only think about sex.

I thought about asking Messara what he liked about me, but I decided against it. The answer seemed obvious.

It would definitely be my hair. No doubt about it. He was practically obsessed with my hair. Playing with it was the norm, and just like in the hospital, he still washed and dried my hair himself. Unless he was exceptionally busy, he never skipped it.

In a way, it was frightening. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was an unconscious manifestation of Messara desiring the Whitebirch within me. Every time such a thought crossed my mind, I told myself repeatedly that what Messara loved was Ray Arisa’s blonde hair. Ray Arisa’s…

꙳•❅*ִ

It was my first late shift in a while due to a party assignment. Just one month after his debut in high society, Karl Vardi was hosting a party. Considering his father’s death, the timing was early enough to stir up gossip. According to the kingdom’s customs, nobles who had lost a parent typically didn’t throw parties for at least three months.

“Chief, I think we should head out now.”

Leopard said. I put on the damned mask and stood up. Copperhead took the wheel, while Leopard and I sat in the backseat. We followed behind the car carrying Altonen.

I had a bad feeling. This party seemed to be Karl’s attempt to ingratiate himself with high society again, after two weeks of attending art exhibitions following the so-called “Anti-Drug Campaign.” I tapped the edge of my seat.

Leopard glanced at me.

“Aren’t you being a bit too cautious? It’s just a party celebrating Irina’s shop opening. Besides, unmarried nobles who’ve lost a parent can’t get married for three years.”

“That’s not a legal requirement.”

“True, but how long do you think Irina and that old, ugly Kruger will last? She’ll probably bleed him dry of jewelry and then dump him. Karl is probably letting it go because he thinks his sister spending the king’s money on clothes and jewelry is better. No way she’s aiming for the queen’s throne.”

Leopard’s opinion matched the general consensus. But who knew? King’s mistresses had always been tools used by politicians to seize power.

I clicked my tongue and poured myself a glass of Courvoisier.

“But what kind of shop is a woman busy with the king opening? What does she even sell?”

“I’m not sure, but probably some fashion shop for clothes she’s worn once and discarded. Even Irina’s used panties would sell out in five minutes. I can already picture the high-ranking officials burying their noses in her underwear and masturbating.”

Copperhead chuckled, swerving the car with a wicked laugh. Unfortunately, his dirty joke had no effect on Leopard and me, both of us being gay. With our cold reactions, Copperhead shrugged his shoulders.

“By the way, Snake. Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm.”

“What do you think of Karl? As a gay man, aren’t you at least a little intrigued? Even to a guy, he’s one heck of a handsome man.”

“Not really.”

I answered grumpily. Karl was a muscular hunk far from my type. Plus, he was loud and arrogant. Even during my wild playboy days, I had my own philosophy when it came to sex. I never slept with someone I wasn’t into. Actually, I couldn’t. If I wasn’t attracted, I simply couldn’t go through with it.

“Hmm, I see. What about you, Leopard? Doesn’t he get you going?”

Leopard laughed with a low chuckle.

“Getting to bed with a nobleman’s ass? That would be an honor.”

Of course…

I knew it. I clicked my tongue. He was incorrigible, but then again, so was I. I still remembered the times when, as things became scarce at ‘Snow White,’ Leopard would say, “We’re desperate, so let’s take that guy,” pointing out some potential partner. There were times I was utterly speechless, from the old man with a Gandalf-like beard to the enormous fat guy whose features were buried in flesh, or even the punk with dreadlocks whose body was covered in ‘fuck you’ tattoos.

Leopard really would go for anything with a hole. Well, thanks to him, I was able to get rid of Sideburns easily, so I guess I was grateful.

At least Leopard was picky when it came to finding a boyfriend. He had this wild ambition to find “someone skilled in sewing, cooking, and assembling model kits, who could debate various topics with wit, comfort a sad lover with a sweet flute serenade, was quiet and kind, extremely understanding, had little experience with men but was adventurous in bed, and, of course, an absolute beauty and a masochist.” If not for those high standards, he’d have long been going after the butts of the department heads, turning the whole workplace upside down.

I glanced at Leopard. He was scratching his crotch while eyeing the young men passing by outside the car window.

“He’s going to grow old and die as a lifelong bachelor at this rate.”

I shook my head and took a sip of Courvoisier. The Vardi duchy’s mansion loomed in the distance. It was a grand estate, almost like a castle. I had been there multiple times, accompanying Lord Wolfscott, who had now become a vegetative figure, so it didn’t stir any particular emotions.

Ahead, Altonen got out of the car. He was escorted by the chiefs into the main building. I walked toward the entrance, lost in thought, when I suddenly halted. A chill ran through my body.

What… is this?

The place was swarming with Rays. To be precise, it was filled with shamans dressed in the monk coats Ray so dearly cherished, lurking ominously everywhere. It was chilling. I almost had the absurd thought that someone had cloned Ray and scattered him all over this place.

That coat had such a strange ability to transform a hundred people into one uniform presence. The chiefs, who detested monk coats as much as I did, stood frozen in place.

“Damn. This is the biggest thrill I’ve experienced in my 11 years of working,” Falcon grumbled quietly beside me. I quickly snapped out of it and followed Altonen. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but one thing was clear: today, we had to avoid even the slightest contact with those monk coats.

“Harry! You’ve arrived? Still with your bodyguards, I see?”

Irina hugged Altonen and kissed him on the cheek. She was wearing thick panda-like eye makeup, a gothic-style black dress, and black Ray gloves.

“What are they? Wow, this is creepy. They look like wizards straight out of a movie. I’ve never seen anything like this at a noble’s party before.”

Altonen remarked, and Irina laughed.

“They’re not just like wizards, they are wizards. I’m opening a Witch Shop soon, and I invited some famous shamans to celebrate the launch. They’re offering free fortune-telling to the nobles here, so make sure you get yours done. I’ll be hosting more parties like this, so you must come.”

“That’s unusual. I didn’t know you were into this sort of thing.”

“Unusual? Women love magic.”

“Well, most men aren’t really into this kind of stuff. Plus, I’m Catholic and too busy with official duties.”

I wondered what expression Altonen would make if he found out that Manen, the former head of Lotus, had been an avid fan of magic. In any case, it was absurd. If I had known there would be a horde of cloned Rays, I never would’ve allowed Altonen to attend this party.

“Hey, Harry.”

Karl approached and shook hands with Altonen. He was annoyingly nonchalant. You’d think he’d be wary after Yankerly’s death, but he remained smug. I shot a sneer at Karl.

Let’s see how much of a fool he acts today.

Karl and Altonen exchanged small talk about attending art exhibitions, reading various books, and so on. Suddenly, Karl glanced in my direction and smiled slyly. A tingling sensation crawled up my neck.

That bastard.

“Mind if I ask a question? Who’s Snake here? Without a whip, I can’t tell.”

We didn’t respond at all. Altonen, his face ashen, asked, “Why ask that all of a sudden?” Karl took a puff of his cigar and shrugged.

“It’s nothing. I just overheard something interesting. My sister’s new shop is collaborating with famous shamans, and in the process, I heard a funny story. Apparently, your aides have quite an interest in magic. Especially Snake. Harry, you didn’t know?”

I caught on immediately. I had interrogated the renowned shamans of 42nd Street myself. Someone had blabbed to Karl.

“This is the first I’m hearing of it. Lord Wolfscott despises superstitions, and he once had Guiger and the police crack down on shamans heavily. But that was lifted a year ago, and we compensated the shamans by significantly reducing their taxes. I don’t see the point in bringing this up now. If this was your plan, you shouldn’t have invited me at all.”

Altonen said, his face hard. He was proving to be a useful puppet.

Karl laughed and clapped Altonen on the shoulder.

“Don’t be so serious! I was just curious. Anyway, these shamans told me that a bunch of high-profile ones were gathered in one place and that Snake interrogated them personally. And guess what? He was asking about a mysterious shaman named ‘Ryeong.’ Isn’t it funny? A man with no interest in magic seeking out a shaman?”

Karl took a slow drag from his cigar, tilting his head in mock curiosity.

“Did you ever find that Ryeong? I hear he’s so secretive that even his name isn’t known.”

We didn’t respond.

“For whatever reason, Snake was only following Lord Wolfscott’s orders. As far as I know, Snake has no interest in magic. And let me warn you, don’t speak to my bodyguards. Their job is to serve me and no other noble. If you keep this up, I’ll consider it an attempt to tarnish the honor of the warrior nobility.”

Altonen said with a displeased expression. He genuinely seemed angry.

Karl scratched his head awkwardly.

“Well, this is embarrassing. I didn’t know about your rules. Sorry about the handshake earlier too… you guys are pretty intense. Then again, I’ve heard the bodyguards of Japonica are a symbol of the warrior nobility’s authority. Ha ha ha!”

“Glad you understand. You’re still unfamiliar with the kingdom’s rules, so I can make allowances.”

Altonen said, his tone softening. Karl grinned and pulled him by the arm.

As I followed behind them, I bit my lip. I wanted to lunge at Karl and strangle him until his tongue dangled down to his navel. I wanted to rip out his eyes and snap each of his fingers.

Of all things, he had to bring up Ryeong.

It was fine. Karl had already raised suspicions among the chiefs. I had been lonely in sharpening my blade alone. The so-called ‘Ryeong Incident’ was the most classified black file in Guiger. From the handshake ban added to our protocol, to the grotesque masks and hideous uniform coats, the Ryeong Incident had left an indelible mark on us.

He’d practically dug his own grave.

He was a trickier fox than I anticipated. Most nobles would wet themselves just by making eye contact with us, but Karl was bold enough to mention Snake to our faces. My gut told me he would cause a major disaster sooner or later.

“Do all shamans dress like that? The atmosphere is quite fitting.”

Altonen muttered, eyeing the monks’ garb warily. Karl responded.

“No. Not just anyone can wear those coats. They’ve been passed down through generations, marking the wearer as a powerful shaman trained by a prestigious master. People who are into magic can tell just by looking at the coat that the wearer is no ordinary shaman. Some shamans even go as far as paying for or forging fake coats to attract more clients.”

“Really? So, all the shamans here are top-tier?”

“That’s right. The best of the best are gathered here.”

This was news to me. Ray had never mentioned anything like that. We had assumed the coat was some kind of uniform, so we hadn’t asked about it during interrogations. It felt like being hit in the back of the head. Unbelievable. So Ray had been flaunting the fact that he was a ‘top-tier shaman’ from the very beginning.

I remembered the witch who had given me a prophecy. She had boasted about her fame in the field of love fortunes. It hadn’t been an empty boast after all.

No wonder that damn crystal ball of hers had seemed so unnaturally radiant…

In the end, it wasn’t a fruitless party. Despite being startled by the cloned Rays, I felt attending was the right choice. I had to consider the possibility that second or third-rate figures might try to use magic, like Manen, to plot something. After all, Karl Vardi was already dabbling in magic.

“Harry, instead of just watching, why don’t you get a reading? Don’t be bound by religion—just enjoy it. How about a love reading?”

“I’m a married man. If I want a love reading, I’d better see a divorce lawyer.”

Altonen and Karl chuckled as they walked. They stopped near a table that was drawing an unusually large crowd.

“Why are there so many people here?” Altonen muttered.

Karl laughed. “I guess you didn’t get the pamphlet at the entrance? See that small white ribbon on the chest of that shaman? It means they can see through everything. Among the shamans here, they are the top tier. Take a good look around.”

As he said, only the shamans with white ribbons had crowds gathered around them. Altonen whistled in admiration.

“A top-tier shaman, huh… Maybe I should get a reading too.”

Karl and Altonen queued up, waiting for their turn. With every fortune the shaman told, the crowd’s reactions ranged from explosive anger to elated joy.

“Come on in, sir. What would you like to know?”

Before they knew it, they were in front of the shaman, an old man with a gray staff. Altonen looked at him with amused curiosity.

“Let’s see… can you tell me what my future holds in politics?”

“Wait a moment.”

The shaman shook his staff and muttered under his breath. Altonen stifled a laugh, watching as the old man, who seemed to be suffering from a nervous tremor, continued shaking his staff for a while before suddenly stopping.

“As long as you don’t act arrogantly, all will go smoothly, sir.”

The crowd burst into laughter, except for Altonen, who stood frozen, pale as a sheet. I chuckled quietly to myself.

This shaman had real skill.

To tell a puppet not to be arrogant—what a spot-on fortune.

After Altonen, it was Karl’s turn.

“Alright, how about a love fortune for me?”

“Wait a moment.”

The shaman shook his staff for a long time before finally speaking.

“You’re going through a difficult love. Don’t be greedy. Just let things take their natural course.”

The crowd gasped in admiration. Karl scratched his head with a grin. I narrowed my eyes. Since when had this guy been secretly involved in some love affair without anyone, including Guiger, noticing?

Difficult love? Could he have fallen for a married woman or a married man? Haha, or maybe he’s even in love with a priest or a nun? This was getting interesting.

It was useful information. I wondered aloud if I might end up getting hooked on fortune-telling myself but froze mid-thought. At some point, the shaman had fixed his gaze directly on me. At first, I thought he might be staring out of curiosity about my mask, but soon, I realized—no, he was definitely staring at me with sharp intensity. The attention of the whole room shifted toward me. In all my eight years of attending parties like this, nothing like this had ever happened. My guard shot up. Why was he staring at me? Could this old man have figured out my identity?

The shaman slowly began to speak.

“You’ve got no shame, young man. Even after crushing someone so completely, you still cling on. I can hear the sobs. If you have any conscience, you should walk away. You have no right to claim that person.”

I felt as though I’d been slashed all over by a dagger. That was about… Ray and me, wasn’t it?

It was like a storm crashing over my entire body. A chill crept up from my feet as though even Death itself might recoil from the cold. I couldn’t think straight. Only one phrase echoed relentlessly in my mind.

You have no right to claim that person.

Copperhead nudged me in the side, snapping me back to reality. The people around us were now staring, wondering what kind of villainous acts Guiger’s thug must have committed to earn such a reading.

Altonen’s face darkened with rage.

“You’re out of line. How dare you talk like that when you don’t know a damn thing!”

He shouted and slammed his fist on the table, making the shaman flinch. Karl stepped in to calm Altonen and ordered a servant, “Get that shaman out of here.”

Altonen shook off Karl’s hand.

“I should go. This kind of fortune-telling nonsense goes against my faith anyway. And you should have a serious talk with Irina. Opening some witch shop? That’s not what a noble, a model for commoners, should be doing.”

With that, he left the hall without hesitation. I followed Altonen, but my heart pounded in my chest, my mind a chaotic mess.

Once inside the G-Pro, I pulled out my phone. I called my subordinate and instructed him to compile a list of nobles currently obsessed with fortune-telling, and to have it ready within a week. I also ordered him to double the surveillance on Karl and to keep a close watch on Irina’s witch parties.

Just as I finished giving orders, Altonen called. He told me not to worry about what happened today and promised to distance himself from Karl from now on, having understood the shaman’s warning not to act arrogantly. I simply replied, “Please be more cautious in the future,” and hung up.

I leaned back in my chair and lit a cigarette. I felt utterly miserable. The shaman’s words kept echoing in my ears.

You have no right to claim that person.

I knew it was true. I knew all too well just how cruel I had been to Ray. That’s why, after we broke up, I hadn’t dared to try to win him back. Even being with Ray now felt incredibly shameless.

I glanced at myself in the Leopard’s rearview mirror.

“Well… you didn’t know, right? If you had known, you wouldn’t have done it. Things just took a horrible turn, that’s all. So lighten up.”

Of course, I hadn’t known. But the result had been nothing short of devastating.

Ray’s lungs were significantly damaged from a bullet that had pierced through them, meaning he had to be cautious for the rest of his life. That was actually why I never smoked in front of Ray, though he didn’t know it. Due to his mostly homebound lifestyle, he hadn’t noticed anything wrong with his body yet.

The shaman’s words had been right. What I was doing was utterly shameless. I had known it all along but had been ignoring it because I couldn’t bear to lose Ray. Letting go was out of the question—utterly impossible. I couldn’t even imagine my life without Ray. The fear, the terror of that grave-like emptiness, was unbearable. I didn’t want to go back to being a walking corpse, aimlessly wandering like a lost soul in a cold, endless forest.

I couldn’t help it. This was who I was. After all, I was born without a conscience.

But why?

It had been a long time since that question resurfaced in my mind. Why? Why did we turn out like this?

No one would ever know how long I agonized over this question during the time it took for Ray and me to reunite. Why had we fallen so deeply into such a horrible pit? I resented the whims of the gods, speculated whether someone envious of us had set a cruel trap, and even reflected on whether it was divine punishment for my misdeeds.

My mind, filled with endless question marks and despair, became a purgatory. The more I fixated on the question, the more I felt like I was wandering through a dark, subterranean prison.

“From now on, you just have to do better.”

Leopard spoke. I stubbed out my cigarette, burnt down to the filter, and lit another one. That was my plan—to make things right from now on. I intended to love Ray until the day I died, until the very moment when dirt would be thrown onto my coffin. I would love him and love him some more. That was the only atonement left for me.

Suddenly, a wave of melancholy hit me.

꙳•❅*ִ

I spent until 2 p.m. cooped up in the study, wrestling with my manuscript. In a kingdom where winters were long, plants were a rare commodity. The target audience for my manuscript was the impoverished class, who couldn’t even afford a greenhouse. I had to keep that in mind while writing.

Tapping my chin with my pen, I stood up. As I had told Messara in advance, I planned to go out to 42nd Street this afternoon. After setting up a time to meet with Sonia, I left the house.

It was a drizzly afternoon. The used bookstore I hadn’t visited in nearly four weeks was cold and filled with a damp chill. I cranked up the heating to dry out the air and waited for Sonia while browsing through botany books. The door swung open, and in dashed a beautiful woman in a purple faux fur coat—Sonia.

“Darling!”

Sonia showered me with kisses. Though we talked often on the phone, we hadn’t seen each other in two months. I had expected her belly to be quite big since she was pregnant, but she looked the same as always.

“You’re not showing at all!”

“Hahaha! Men! I’m only four months along. Some women don’t show much during their first pregnancy. Consider that a little lesson in common knowledge.”

“Ah, I see. I thought you’d have a noticeable belly by now.”

I sheepishly scratched my head, and Sonia, eyeing the gifts, spoke up.

“Oh my, you picked something adorable! Look at this! The shoes even squeak! I never expected you to have such good taste. You really put a lot of thought into our baby’s gift, didn’t you?”

“I’m glad you like it.”

I couldn’t exactly tell her I’d simply copied what I saw a woman pick out. Sonia whistled in admiration as she looked over the clothes.

“You know, I was actually worried about asking you for a gift. I was sure you’d pick out a green dress with pink ribbons and blue shoes without a second thought.”

“Haha, did my sense of style seem that bad to you?”

“Of course! At first, I thought you were colorblind. Even now, look at you: brown sweater, black corduroy pants, gray boots, and that same old rat-gray coat. As always.”

“Well, as long as it covers me, it’s good enough.”

“Such a practical statement. If you dressed well too, you’d be insufferable, you know.”

Sonia chattered on happily, and I just kept scratching my head. Was my fashion really that bad? Well, Messara would always freak out whenever she saw the clothes I picked for going out.

“Here, this is for you in return.”

Sonia handed me a gift box. When I asked what it was, she smiled.

“It’s an Asian-style salad. I got it from my Korean neighbor. It’s supposed to be packed with nutrients and excellent for cancer prevention. My neighbor said it’s a traditional Korean dish, something that takes days to prepare. Apparently, Koreans eat it every day.”

“Thank you, Sonia. I’ll enjoy it.”

How curious. A Korean salad, of all things. I remembered once researching the name ‘Arisu,’ from which I had borrowed my last name, and discovering it was the name of a river in Korea. That’s when I first learned about the country. In the photos, the Arisu River looked as vast as the San Francisco Bay.

But what kind of salad takes days to make? The East really was fascinating.

Despite sharing a name with that river, I knew next to nothing about Korea or Japan. Marata had immigrated to the kingdom at a very young age, so he was just as clueless as most Europeans, who thought of bamboo-wielding swordsmen when they imagined Asia. Even Ray’s name came from Marata’s Japanese name, Rayko—a mere coincidence.

While packing up the clothes and toys, Sonia suddenly said, “Oh, by the way.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you a shaman, by any chance?”

“Huh?”

I almost dropped the gift box. Sonia’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh my. So, you are!”

“How did you figure that out?”

“It’s that rat-gray coat you always wear. On the way here, I passed by 42nd Street Station’s Exit 1, where a magic shop just opened and was holding an event. The place was swarming with people wearing coats exactly like yours.”

“Ah, I see.”

“I heard those coats are typically worn by shamans. I thought it was just a coincidence, but… are you really a shaman?”

“Well, I did work as a shaman for a while.”

“How interesting! I was so sure that bizarre coat was one of a kind, yours only. I would have never imagined it was a shaman’s uniform. I’ve lived on 42nd Street for so long, how did I not know?”

“Shamans usually stay home all day waiting for clients, so you probably never noticed them. And I just inherited this coat. I’m not a shaman anymore.”

“True, being a secondhand bookstore owner suits you much better. When you think of a shaman, you imagine an old hag with a hooked nose, don’t you?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at Sonia’s comment. But I was curious. What kind of shop had gathered all these shamans wearing coats like mine? Not just anyone could wear this coat.

“Sonia, why don’t we check it out?”

“Oh, absolutely. I need to head that way to get home anyway. Plus, I heard they’re offering free readings.”

We left the bookstore together. After a 20-minute walk, we approached the entrance of the subway station. The shop was immediately noticeable. It had a sleek, modern look—completely different from the dark and eerie image one might associate with a witch shop. Balloons and flowers at the entrance gave it more of a fashion store opening vibe. About a dozen shamans were lined up in front of the shop.

Sonia tugged at my side and whispered, “Look, I can’t stop laughing. They really do look just like you. Haha.”

I had to admit, it was quite funny. It wasn’t every day you saw skilled shamans desperately trying to attract customers in such a spectacle.

“That’s not going to help them. The flowers and balloons look so out of place. Not all witches wear coats like that.”

“You’re right. Not exactly the best strategy to pull in customers,” I agreed.

We received a pamphlet from the shamans and scanned it. It explained how this shop was opened by shamans who, after realizing that the reputation of 42nd Street was intimidating to regular people, decided to create a more approachable space. Given that the station was far from any unsavory areas, it was an ideal location for a magical shop. I nodded as I finished reading the pamphlet.

“Sonia, let’s get a free reading.”

Sonia pulled my arm, eager. The entire first floor was bustling with people attending the opening event. The place was packed with customers, staff, and shamans. Sonia excitedly said, “I want to get my fortune read with a crystal ball.”

“Really? Crystal ball readings are probably in the dimmest part of the shop… Over there, maybe.”

I pointed to a corner where a shaman was conducting a reading with a crystal ball.

“Wow, you’re right! How did you know?”

“Crystal ball readings are typically done in dark spaces, with the ball reflecting little light. It’s called ‘scrying,’ a form of divination where the practitioner uses the ball to reveal desired information or the future. Not many can use a crystal ball properly, but this is a reputable shop, so they must be skilled.”

“That’s fascinating! You really sound like a legit shaman.”

Before I knew it, we were in front of the crystal ball shaman.

“Can you tell me the winning numbers for this week’s Heartwell lottery?” Sonia asked right away. The shaman hesitated and replied, “I’m afraid I don’t provide that kind of information.”

“Why not?” Sonia protested.

I chuckled. “Sonia, if a shaman revealed the winning numbers, there would be a hundred thousand people buying tickets with those numbers. The first prize would end up being less than what a café job pays. It’s better to ask about something more practical, like upcoming hardships or career advice.”

“Hmm, good point. Well then, when will I become rich?”

Sonia’s innocent question made the shaman smile. I had to suppress my laughter. The shaman finally said, “This will take a little time.”

Sonia stared at the crystal ball with wide eyes, full of curiosity. Waiting around became tedious. It was hot with all the people and the heating turned up high. Even the shamans had removed their coats while giving readings.

I hesitated for a moment and pulled my hood back a little, fanning myself as I wished for the shaman to finish up.

“Excuse me, by any chance?”

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned and was shocked.

“Ha, I knew it. Are you here to browse the shop too?”

It was Duke Karl Vardi.

I was stunned. How could we have met three times already? My mood immediately soured, and I quickly pulled my hood back up.

“Oh, about the other day, I owe you an apology. Haha. To be honest, I thought I was making a fair proposal. But I realize now I was being short-sighted. I’m truly sorry.”

The Duke rambled on. I didn’t respond, but I felt my anger subside a little. A noble apologizing to a commoner was rare.

He’s an odd one for a noble.

“Hey, bro, is this the person? The blonde spirit?”

A red-haired woman peeked out from beside Duke Vardi. She was the woman who had accompanied him at Sorel’s party. The Duke nodded in confirmation. The woman smirked and gave me a once-over.

“You look so different in this outfit compared to the masquerade. Did you know? Because of you, we had to gather every shaman wearing a 42nd Street coat for our opening party.”

“What?”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“My brother insisted we wouldn’t hold the party unless we invited every shaman in a coat like yours. He’s been hanging around here all day, hoping you’d show up. Now that you’re here, why don’t we grab a drink together? I’m curious about the person who caught my brother’s eye. By the way, are you really twenty-eight?”

What… is happening?

I was speechless. Was she suggesting I get involved with her brother?

I wasn’t sure what her intention was, but one thing was clear: I needed to leave immediately.

Just then, the crystal ball shaman spoke up.

“You will become very wealthy soon.”

“Soon? When exactly?”

“In the near future. With the birth of your child, your husband will gift you something valuable—a dazzling necklace, to be precise. Although he appears reserved, it seems he holds deep affection for you.”

“Oh my, haha.”

Sonia laughed. I grabbed her arm. “Let’s go, Sonia.”

“Aren’t you getting a reading?”

“I’m not interested.”

I hurriedly led Sonia away from the scene. Duke Vardi followed us.

“The woman you’re with is quite the mysterious beauty. Is she Chinese? Japanese? Or maybe she’s the fashionable friend who lent you that necklace and outfit?”