The Snow Queen

And if my prediction was right, Ray had been abused by his parents even before they abandoned him. I was certain. As I flipped through the album, I realized it. Except for when he was an infant, in every photo where his family smiled together, Ray was always standing apart. In almost every picture.

“Do you have nothing to say? You really don’t want to face criminal charges? Then I guess I can leave now, right? Haha. I’ll cover the tea.”

“… Please give this to the child.”

Lee handed me an envelope. I frowned as I stared at it. I asked if he had nothing to say, and instead of answering, he just handed me an envelope…?

Everything about this guy’s behavior irked me and stoked my anger. The meaning behind the money in the envelope was obvious. It meant he had no intention of confronting Ray as a parent. It was a message to end this simply, without fuss, and say goodbye with that money.

It was infuriating. My head spun with rising fury. Even at this moment, Ray was being abandoned by his parents. Right before my eyes, the person I loved was being trampled on by his own blood.

“Still, I’m glad the child has grown up well. He looked happy. Now I can rest easy. This money, though not much, I hope you use it well.”

Lee spoke softly. I snapped out of it and muttered, “What?”

Ray grew up well? What a nonsensical thing to say… but then, I quickly understood.

Ha… What a delusion.

I almost burst out laughing. The professor’s delusion was absurd. Ridiculous. But given the circumstances, I could see how he might fall into that misunderstanding.

Though Ray didn’t know it, the hospital I’d taken him to for treatment was the most expensive private psychiatric facility in the capital. His clothes and even the jewelry he wore were all high-end. Having witnessed that, Lee must have assumed Ray had been rescued by someone good and had grown up well, which was why he hadn’t sought out his parents for 21 years.

I lit a cigarette, smiling.

“Indeed. For someone who grew up starving and freezing on 42nd Street, the best red-light district in the capital, he’s turned out remarkably well. You can rest easy for sure.”

“W-what? R-red-light district? What are you talking about…?”

Lee’s eyes widened in shock, and he stuttered. I blew cigarette smoke in his face.

“Oh, don’t be alarmed. He didn’t sell himself. He just worked the counter at a bar for a while because he had no money. Who knows, though? Maybe he hid the truth from me. Hahaha. He told me some old hag rescued him and locked him in an attic for 10 years. He was beaten and starved.”

Lee looked stunned, unable to speak.

“When I first met Ray, he was running a second-hand bookstore. He inherited it from some old woman. But in winter, business was so slow he had to close the store and glue doll eyes for a living. He collapsed from malnutrition, and I had to admit him to the hospital.”

I added with a sarcastic tone.

“I’ll open an account in Ray’s name and deposit this money there. Knowing his personality, if he finds out where the money came from, he won’t take it. Well, I’ll be off now.”

Leaving Lee frozen in place, I stood up abruptly.

In the gray alleyway, the Snow Queen fell. The snowflakes scattered cruelly. I tore the envelope into pieces and flung them into the air.

“What, Chief? In times like these, you’re really going to waste money?”

Cooperhead scrambled to catch the pieces, running around frantically. I lit another cigarette.

“Wow, this is too much. You could’ve just torn it in half, but you shredded it to bits. There’s no way to piece it back together. Anyway, what do you think? Do you think he’ll keep clinging to Ryeong?”

“How would I know.”

“Man, eavesdropping on their conversation was something else. Attempted murder on a seven-year-old son… by prominent figures, no less. Incredible, huh? Haha. Well, thanks to them, we don’t have to worry about the police getting involved, so that’s a relief.”

Cooperhead chuckled. I exhaled a long trail of smoke.

Cooperhead was right. Without a doubt, what those two did was a carefully planned murder attempt. Why did they go that far? The answer was already in Lee’s words.

“They see through everything.”

During our interrogation of Manen, my superiors and I had realized that Ryeong’s sorcery resembled psychometry. A supernatural ability to detect information through contact. The sorcerers referred to it as ‘Orchitunica.’

As a child, Ray must have displayed this ability unknowingly. To his parents, he probably seemed like a demon rather than a child. And in the end…

Just as my vision began to blur with rage, my phone vibrated. It was Leopard. I snapped out of it and answered, “Yes?”

― Ray’s asking if you want to have dinner together. You free?

Her voice was frustratingly hazy. I quickly agreed and ended the call. It looked like I’d be dining with mistletoe and holly tonight.

I flicked the cigarette away.

Forget it.

If I dwelled on this any longer, I’d end up chasing down Lee, twisting his neck, and ripping out his tongue in broad daylight. If they were just my uncle or cousin, I would’ve dealt with them already. That withered cucumber and that fat blob were worse villains than Manen and Marata. They were the root cause of all Ray’s misfortunes.

If they had just done their duty as parents, Ray wouldn’t have been cast into darkness. He would have lived a normal life, free from sorcery and political conflict. He wouldn’t have suffered through poverty. I wouldn’t have shot him. My anger boiled to the point of no return.

I shook my head. There was nothing else to do. All I could hope for now was that this accursed couple would meet an untimely accident. It was all so wretched.

꙳•❅*ִ

“They said to sleep first and wait.”

Ilex finished the phone call and spoke.

Ilex Sparte, a friend of Messara whom I met for the first time today. As they say, birds of a feather flock together—he had many traits in common with Messara, both in physique and aura.

But why had he sent his friend today and told me to wait until he arrived?

I tilted my head in confusion. Recently, I’d come to realize that Messara had a bit of a jealous streak. Whenever we were out for a walk, if I so much as glanced at a young man, his sclera would immediately flush red, and the veins on his forehead would pop out—something I’d witnessed several times. During our evening meals, he would always ask, “Did you meet anyone today? A man, perhaps?”

Anyway, meeting Ilex was pleasant. What surprised me was discovering that I had met him before in my lost memories. Even more surprising was Ilex’s claim that if things had gone smoothly, I might be dating him instead of Messara now.

“Really? Is that true?”

I asked as we sat down at a table in the arboretum, and Ilex nodded emphatically.

“Of course! I was the one who first became interested in Ray. Ray also had feelings for me. But before we could make things official, circumstances got in the way, and while I was distracted, Four swooped in and made a move on Ray without anyone knowing. The nerve!”

Now that I heard it, it really was shameless.

“I was completely unaware of it and even told Four that I was planning to ask Ray out, wondering what gift would be best. And Four just smiled and listened! Betraying my trust like that—unbelievable. I always knew he was a sly one, but that was a real low blow.”

Suddenly, a vision of Messara, lying naked on the bed in my dream, joking with me, flashed through my mind. He did have quite a playful streak. But still, Messara was generally conservative and family-oriented aside from his peculiar fetishes… Was he really the “Master of Deception”?

I widened my eyes.

“Was Messara a playboy in the past?”

“Huh? Oh… Haha, no, not at all! But tell me, how does he treat Ray these days? Everyone’s curious, you know. You can be honest.”

Ilex smiled mischievously. I looked down, embarrassed, and muttered, “Well, he’s fine, I guess.” Judging by Ilex’s knowing expression, it seemed that Messara’s eccentric tendencies were quite well-known among his friends. I quickly changed the subject.

“So, how’s Messara doing at work? He seems to work late a lot; is he that busy?”

“Oh, absolutely. There’s so much work. The wretched Chief has recently restructured the Guiger under the guise of ‘reforming’ it. Thanks to that, they’ve reduced the number of office workers, and now we’re swamped with extra work.”

“A restructuring?”

“Yes, with the political climate stabilizing, Guiger’s workload has decreased. So, our stingy Chief decided he couldn’t justify the budget with Guiger doing less and forced some of the office workers to serve as aides to the nobles. That Chief is a real piece of work. If you don’t meet performance standards, you’ll be fired in an instant. We’ve barely managed to keep our jobs.”

“Ah, I see.”

I nodded. It was now clear to me where Messara’s strange habits stemmed from—stress at work. I resolved to encourage him to find a new job as soon as possible.

Ilex continued to vent about his job non-stop. How the food in the company cafeteria was so bad that in his 11 years there, he had only eaten there twice. How the uniforms they were given were horribly designed and useless for keeping warm. How they tried to save on electricity by keeping only half the office lights on, making it feel like they were going blind.

He also made sure to rant about their boss, the Guiger Chief, Snake.

“That damn aide program the Chief launched caused us so much stress. The amount of paperwork we had to prepare just to set up that program was insane. Office workers like us are just pawns.”

“But the aide program doesn’t seem like a bad idea. After all, Guiger isn’t funded by taxpayers and can’t generate profit. Maybe the Chief wanted to kill two birds with one stone—save the Guiger budget and keep an eye on the nobles.”

“…Huh. Well, anyway, the way our bosses strut around is beyond annoying. You’ve seen them on TV or in magazines, right? The Chief’s subordinates?”

“I have. They looked pretty intimidating.”

“Intimidating? More like ridiculous.”

Ilex spat bitterly.

“If you saw them in their uniform coats, with the embroidered designs of a decapitated woman on their backs, strutting around in real life, you’d laugh too. Especially with those monster masks—they’re so gaudy and ridiculous. It’s like something out of pro wrestling.”

It seemed Ilex had a lot of pent-up resentment toward his bosses. He continued with a bitter smile.

“They always walk around in groups, puffing themselves up in those ridiculous uniforms. And the funniest one of all is the Chief.”

The Guiger Chief, Snake. He had seemed terrifying when I read about him in Desibel’s article, and I had gotten an eerie vibe when I saw him at the banquet. But to the people who saw him regularly, he must have looked different.

“What’s so funny about him?”

I asked as Ilex poured himself a glass of Karlbados and answered.

“There’s a shooting range in the basement of the headquarters. The Chief and his subordinates go there to practice shooting regularly, usually once a day. But even at the shooting range, they insist on wearing those coats and masks. It’s hilarious, really.”

“It must be uncomfortable for them.”

“Exactly! Even if their noses run, they can’t wipe them freely! But here’s the thing—they often place bets on their shooting practice, and the one who wins the most money is always the Chief. He takes all the winnings without fail. I mean, isn’t it common courtesy to sometimes let your subordinates win? But—!”

Ilex slammed his fist on the table.

“I hear the Chief has

never

let anyone else win. Not even once! He always takes the prize money. Isn’t that just the pettiest thing you’ve ever heard? And he has the nerve to preach about ‘equal opportunity’!”

Suddenly, Ilex groaned as if he’d been hit on the head. Messara had arrived.

“What trivial nonsense are you rambling about?”

Messara said as he sat down with a thud. Ilex just shrugged.

“I was talking trash about the Scrooge Chief, of course. You used to complain about him all the time too, remember? That damn mask, the cursed uniform coat, and always going on about cutting costs every time he opened his mouth.”

“Still, didn’t the Chief raise everyone’s salaries and bonuses across the board? Who was it that jumped for joy the most back then?”

“It wasn’t me. That was Woodpecker.”

Messara and Ilex bickered back and forth, arguing about who had reacted the most to the Chief’s decision. I watched them, surprised. Messara, who always maintained such politeness in front of me, was now casually cursing and bantering like a mischievous child with Ilex. Oddly enough, seeing him this way lifted my spirits after a few days of feeling down.

I stirred my tea absentmindedly, deep in thought. I had been reflecting on something that had been bothering me for days—about the black hair I had glimpsed in fragmented memories.

If my memories were accurate, I hadn’t been able to shake off Whitebirch even just a year ago. That explained why I had lost my memories. It was because of the torment I’d endured for a decade under Whitebirch.

But why had Whitebirch suddenly disappeared now? Why?

One thing was certain: I had overcome Whitebirch, and now I was living a peaceful and happy life. But was that the end of it?

I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Was it the possibility that Whitebirch might come back?

“Ray, what are you thinking about so deeply? Let’s get going.”

Messara’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Ah, yes,” I said, hurriedly standing up.

The mere thought of Whitebirch returning sent shivers down my spine, but I decided to worry about it if and when it happened. There was nothing else I could do at the moment.

We headed toward the bustling streets. Before dinner, Messara and Ilex suggested we do some “quick” shopping. It was anything but quick. I found myself struggling to keep up as they enthusiastically bought clothes, shoes, watches, and even model kits.

Messara was unusually absorbed in shopping today, gifting me an armful of presents, far more than usual. On top of that, Ilex handed me even more, saying it was to commemorate our reunion. I felt like my shoulders were going to give out.

Suddenly, Ilex paused in front of a record store.

“Wow, this guy finally released his album? Hey, Four, check out this poster. Seems like they’re recording albums in a flash these days.”

“Yeah, he probably knows his value is at its peak right now.”

“Ha, the poster is a riot. Even the title’s a joke.”

Ilex sneered, his words laced with subtle hostility. Out of curiosity, I glanced at the poster in the shop window. The title read “Karl Vardi’s Love Ballads,” and below it was a muscular, brown-haired man lounging beside a piano, smirking lazily. It felt a bit tacky.

“Hmm, what’s got you staring so hard? Are you interested or something?” Messara teased, pulling me closer by the waist. I shrugged, “Not really.”

“I was just thinking, he’s pretty handsome. Must be a famous performer, right?”

“Well, sort of. As you said, he’s definitely good-looking and well-known.” Messara chuckled, and Ilex followed with a low, knowing laugh. For a brief moment, they exchanged a strange glance.

What’s with that look? Were they feeling some kind of attraction as fellow men?

I quickly lost interest. Maybe if it were the guy next door, I’d be a bit tense, but a famous pianist like that? He might as well have been a Hollywood star from some faraway land. It was like me gawking at Ophelia—it just wasn’t going to happen.

“Let’s grab some food. There’s a great place I know called

Hot Chili

. Since it’s been a while since we all met, I’ll treat you guys to dinner,” Ilex suggested.

We followed him into

Hot Chili

. It was a unique place. The spacious room, surrounded by red stucco walls, had a massive bonfire in the middle where a plump pig was being roasted on a spit. The floor was covered in rushes and rose petals.

In one corner, people danced merrily to a band playing traditional music. It felt like a festival. I took in the sight with wonder.

“There are a lot of nobles and celebrities here. This doesn’t seem like an ordinary restaurant.”

“Maybe this place is special for people like us, but to them, this is probably like a fast-food joint. Anyway, today, Ray, feel free to indulge. Eating a bit of barbecue for a day won’t hurt your health. Once you pay the entrance fee, you can eat as much as you want.”

Messara grinned. I nodded and dug into the steaming barbecued pork, while enjoying the brass band’s lively tunes. Meanwhile, Messara and Ilex nursed their drinks, quietly exchanging words. Every now and then, I’d hear phrases like “annoying bastard” or “how should we deal with him?”

Curious, I handed Messara a pie plate and asked, “What are you guys whispering about? It sounds pretty serious. You’re not eating much either.”

“Ah, haha. It’s nothing serious. We were just gossiping about some annoying coworker. Oh, by the way, this pie is cute—it’s shaped like baby Jesus in a manger, ha.”

Messara chuckled and fed me a piece of the pie shaped like baby Jesus. As I bit into the sweet pastry, someone suddenly tapped me on the shoulder from behind.

“See? I knew it was you! What a coincidence, running into you here!” A middle-aged man greeted me with a broad smile. I frowned, unsure of what was happening. Then it hit me—like Sonia Marson Owin, maybe this was someone from the memories I’d lost.

Before I could figure out how to react, Messara spoke to the man.

“Long time no see. I’m surprised to run into you here, Mr. Tannel Lee Sorel.”

“Indeed! It feels like fate, doesn’t it? Haha. Oh, by the way, I never caught your name last time. How rude of me.”

If he didn’t even know my name, we must not have been that close. Feeling slightly more at ease, I introduced myself.

“My name is Ray Arisa.”

“Arisa? That’s quite a unique name. Well, these are my friends and family.”

Sorel introduced his companions. They were all wearing matching T-shirts with birds printed on them. His wife, who was unmistakably Latin American, and his young son were both strikingly handsome.

“From earlier, I noticed you standing out. Long, flowing blonde hair like yours isn’t something you see every day. But this is quite a funny coincidence. Are you here to see Tellini by any chance?”

At Mr. Sorel’s words, I tilted my head, confused, and responded, “Who is Tellini? I just came here because a friend recommended this place.”

“Oh, my apologies. I made a wild guess,” Sorel said, scratching the bridge of his nose with an embarrassed look. He then nodded toward someone nearby, motioning with his chin. “That person over there.”

I looked in the direction he indicated. A well-built man with black hair was surrounded by glamorous women, flashing cameras, and paparazzi, drinking away amidst all the chaos. “Quite a spectacle,” I muttered to myself, but then I was stunned by what Sorel said next.

“He became a superstar just a week ago. He’s the heir of a prestigious warrior family and is the only person among the celebrities featured on

Find Your Past Lives

who solved every question, shocking the world. Tabanne Tellini. He’s the reincarnation of Daytanz.”

The reincarnation of Daytanz.

It felt like the blood in my veins froze.

I couldn’t move, not even my fingertips. I just stared at Tellini, who was nonchalantly fondling the glamorous women. An uncontrollable surge of murderous intent welled up inside me. It nearly exploded. My hand gripping the fork tightened with immense force, and even breathing became difficult.

“Doesn’t he look the part? Handsome, like a king who’s spent his life enjoying parties and surrounding himself with beautiful women, right? Haha! Ah, I’ve wasted enough of your time with this. Well, enjoy the rest of your evening with your boyfriend.”

Sorel gave me a light pat on the shoulder and left. I swallowed hard, still dazed, trying to calm myself down. Even if Whitebirch had reincarnated, the chances of Daytanz existing in the same time and space were slim.

He must be a fraud.

The kingdom traditionally held strong beliefs in reincarnations. There were countless tales and proverbs related to it. There were also plenty of famous people and nobles who claimed to be reincarnations to grab public attention.

That guy’s a fraud. He has to be.

But still, just look at him. Surrounded by beautiful women, downing drinks. That muscular build, cold, sharp eyes, and the fact that he’s from a renowned warrior noble family. The resemblance to Daytanz was uncanny, enough to send chills down my spine.

It was infuriating. While some are still struggling in poverty, that guy had been born into wealth and luxury, living the high life until now? The murderous rage inside me boiled over.

“Ray, how about we head up to the second floor? There’s a place called the Aqua Hall where you can eat all the fresh seafood you want,” Messara said, tugging on my arm. I responded tersely, “No.”

I bit down hard on my lips. Should I go over and ask him? There were some secrets not known to the public from the Whitebirch legend. I could ask about the conversations he had, the drinks he downed, the flowers he carried, the color of the cloak he wore…

Ilex glanced at Tellini and chuckled.

“Oh, that guy… Nobles sure do have some strange hobbies, huh? They say the Snow Queen legend is real and that the curse incident happened because of him. Apparently, he lived in tears for ten years before realizing his mistake of falling for some witch, and spent his later years repenting at the Viola Cathedral. Isn’t that hilarious?”

It wasn’t funny at all.

“Ray, want to dance?” Messara asked again. Once more, I replied, “No.” Ilex glanced at Messara and shrugged.

“Well, with the popularity of the Snow Queen legend, it’s no surprise con artists like him are thriving. You can tell just by looking at his face that he’s a scammer, haha. But, at least he’s contributed to the kingdom’s economy. I heard flower shops have been booming lately, all thanks to him. Apparently, he’s been carrying red flowers around during festivals, claiming it’s linked to the Snow Queen. It’s all nonsense. Tellini’s father happens to run the largest greenhouse in the kingdom.”

I stood there, dazed. A chill ran through my entire body.

Red flowers.

The blood-red flowers he carried during the festival, those weren’t even mentioned in the legend. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. It was certain. Tabanne Tellini was that bastard. That son of a bitch who deserved nothing less than being torn apart.

I clenched my fork tightly and shot to my feet. Messara stood up as well and said, “Ray, I really want to eat some seafood,” as he gently pried the fork from my hand.

“Let’s head up to the Aqua Hall. It’s too smoky here, and it’s probably not good for your health. I really want seafood. Haha.”

“Go eat it by yourself.”

I shoved Messara off and stomped away. Still, the act of having the fork taken from me helped me regain a bit of my sanity. I decided to just beat him up a little. It should be fine. It’s just a beating.

Both Messara and Ilex stood up and followed me.

“Hey, Ray,” Ilex called out, grabbing my shoulder.

“How about we just dance together? Do you know how to do the folk dance steps? If not, this is the perfect chance to learn.”

Messara and Ilex tried to drag me toward the dance stage, but I shook off their hands in one swift motion. The music faded into the distance. The smoky interior swirled around me. The only thing I could see clearly was Tellini, still laughing and groping the women around him.

“Ray, let’s just dance.”

Messara grabbed me from behind. Ilex blocked my path.

“Ray, why do you keep heading that way? Are you seriously interested in Tellini? He’s not even that handsome. Haha, the guy’s a complete fraud. He’s just trying to sell roses while charming women.”

…

I blinked my eyes.

I felt as if I had been doused with a bucket of cold water. Slowly, my senses returned, and only one thought kept swirling in my mind. Roses.

Roses…?

When I regained my composure, I realized that Messara and Ilex were dragging me onto the dance stage. My lips moved on their own.

“Roses?”

“Yes, roses. Telini’s father runs one of the kingdom’s largest greenhouse-grown rose farms. Telini basically used his father’s business to promote himself by pretending to be Daytanz. He’s a swindler who preys on romantics like you, Ray. He’ll get his punishment and fall straight into hell. Now, let’s dance.”

Ilex clapped his hands with a wide grin. My blurry vision finally settled, and I shook my head to clear the haze, staring straight ahead.

I… almost accused an innocent person.

Suddenly, a scream ripped through the ceiling. I reflexively turned and was shocked. A group of men carrying buckets rushed at Telini. It was Sorel and his friends, their expressions fierce. The glamorous women around Telini tried to stop them, but they were no match. The frail beauties were tossed aside like ragdolls.

Sorel’s group opened their buckets, and a strange mixture of black lumps and yellow liquid poured over Telini in torrents. He screamed in agony, flailing wildly like a man trying to put out a fire.

Sorel’s group shouted passionately:

“Down with the pigs who suck the blood of the people! Abolish the monarchy! Long live the republic!”

“Abolish the monarchy! Long live the republic!”

“Death to the nobles! Death to them!”

Soon after, guards rushed in and dragged them out, limbs flailing, while the paparazzi gleefully chased after them, cameras flashing furiously. A cloud of dust rose in their wake.

What remained were the shocked patrons, Telini’s heart-wrenching screams echoing through the room, and the stench of filth lingering in the air.

Ilex muttered quietly.

“I’m never coming back here again.”

The next day, Sorel’s photo dominated the front page of every newspaper in the hospital lounge. He was shown gleefully dumping the foul substance on Telini. The headline read, “Mad Millionaire Strikes Down King After Queen!”

The article explained that Telini, a promising young genius, had been hospitalized due to severe mental distress. Sorel and members of the anti-monarchy group “Freebird” were arrested for various crimes, including public disturbances and insulting the royal family. They claimed the incident was an unfortunate accident due to drunkenness, saying they mistook the restaurant for a restroom and threw the waste by mistake. Negotiations for compensation with Telini’s father were underway.

It was only that day I found out that the portrait of Whitebirch in Sorel’s possession had been reduced to tatters about a month and a half ago. I was dumbfounded.

꙳•❅*ִ

[…And yet he says he likes it. By the way, child, why haven’t you sought out the queen’s bedchamber? You’re the king. Producing an heir is a critical duty.]

That again. It was unbearable.

I kept staring out the window. After a brief silence, the queen mother spoke again.

[I, too, feel pity for the poor witch. If only she hadn’t dabbled in magic… You wouldn’t have had to worry about an heir while still young.]

[…What?]

I turned my head to look at her.

What nonsense is this? I was bewildered. The very person who had badgered me into lying with Levitan eight times over the past four months was now saying this?

The queen mother, sneaking glances at me, lowered her head and cleared her throat awkwardly.

[W-Well, I’ll see you at the party.]

She turned and hurried out of the study, looking rather flustered as she left.

I tapped my fingers on the table. A strange, unpleasant feeling lingered. Not only the queen mother, but it seemed the attitudes of the people in the palace had been growing increasingly odd lately. Countless people snickered at me from afar.

Has Levitan found a new lover already?

Suddenly, the image of that left arm flashed before my eyes again. The heavy shock that had coursed through my entire body that day rushed back. I shook my head violently as if trying to rid myself of the thought. The stench seemed to sting my nose again. It felt like the distorted sound of a violin was scratching at my ears—like a scream.

Why did she do it? Why did she resort to magic? Why didn’t she ask for a peaceful death? Why? Why? Why?

Why did it happen? Why!

The more time passed, the more my mind became consumed with the curse that had been placed on my former wife. The more I thought about it, the more questions arose. Even under torture, she denied the charges to the end. The investigators hadn’t found any trace of sorcery tools in the tower by the time I returned. All of this pointed to only one conclusion: a conspiracy.

Was it truly a setup by Loren?

The words of the inquisitors came back to me.

― In truth, we arrested the queen quickly due to an order from Cardinal Loren, your mother’s cousin.

I still vividly remembered that moment in the palace courtyard when Loren attended the viewing of my ex-wife’s body. He had smirked as he gazed at the left arm sticking out from the burlap shroud.

Had it not been for the queen mother, I would have arrested him long ago. But every time I questioned her about Loren, she would fly into a rage.

― You think I ordered the torture on Loren’s behalf? I only took on the role of the villain! It was better for her to die a peaceful death on her own terms than to be burned at the stake as a witch! I was trying to cover it all up! I got rid of the nursemaid’s siblings because I feared the truth about the witch’s sorcery would come out!

― Mother, this doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t it have been better to persuade the nursemaid’s siblings to retract their false testimony?

― It wasn’t false testimony! She was a real witch! I wracked my brain trying to deal with it, how many times do I have to say it! I thought I’d be the only one taking the blame as a cruel mother-in-law! If I hadn’t been away raising war funds, I would have let her die peacefully myself!

― Tell me the truth.

When I pressed without backing down, the Queen Mother finally broke into tears.

― Loren wanted to pull out her intestines with a pulley and show them to the heretics. It was actually Loren who killed the nurse siblings, too. He said we had to make sure they couldn’t retract their testimony… Anyway, it’s true that she cursed Levitan with magic. This part is real. She really was a witch.

The Queen Mother’s expression was genuine.

Recently, suspicions had begun to shift in another direction. Could it have been a plot to claim the Queen’s position?

But that didn’t make sense either. After 17 years of quietly waiting, why plot now when her position as queen was secured? And if it was a plot, why keep my ex-wife alive for two months, only to go through the trouble of torturing her? Wouldn’t it have been easier to kill her earlier under the guise of a “peaceful death”?

I recalled the words of the interrogators.

― When we interrogated her, although she didn’t confess, there was something suspiciously witch-like about her behavior.

They weren’t lying. On the day I retrieved her body, I stayed up all night reviewing the trial records. They were filled with nonsensical declarations of love like, “Oh, my king.” It made my hair stand on end. As soon as I reviewed it, I ordered it to be burned immediately.

But there were still too many questions. No matter how deeply I thought, I couldn’t figure out why my ex-wife would use magic. The royal steward pointed this out:

― A woman who endured the harsh life in the tower for 15 years would hardly be jealous of Levitan, would she?

I went back over the trial records from the beginning. My ex-wife kept saying, “Oh, my king,” calling out for me. It sounded like a nonsensical love confession at first, but it could easily be interpreted another way. What if it was a desperate plea for the only person who could save her?

If my ex-wife had endured all that torture to clear her name, waiting for me to return…

Suddenly, a cold chill, like something leaking from a grave, enveloped me. Why did I feel such a terrible sense of foreboding? I had never felt anything like this before.

I reached for the Whitebirch branch that “Lady in Red” had left me as a gift, but then I stopped. That left arm flashed in my mind again, and I couldn’t bear to touch it.

“Your Majesty, it’s time to leave.”

The servant spoke from outside the study. Despite my foul mood, there was nothing I could do. I drained my glass of wine and stood up.

Already, the stench of excrement and urine was wafting in from the direction of the door. Levitan, dressed in resplendent clothes, was smiling. Without fail, her foul breath reached me even from here. It was a nightmare. As I desperately hoped my sense of smell would soon go numb, Levitan approached far too close for comfort, forcing a letter into my hand.

“It’s a love letter.”

She whispered and gave me a suggestive look. It was unbearable. I wanted to be blind.

My mind was racing. I decided to have Rosh secretly investigate Loren. I couldn’t simply let the curse incident slide when that left arm kept haunting my thoughts.

If Loren really had framed my ex-wife as part of a plot to purge the Protestants, I was determined to personally execute him.

The velvet curtains parted. The people at the ball were waiting for me. Piles of gifts celebrating the birth of the crown prince—jewels, freshly hunted deer, premium perfumes, silver goblet sets, royal portraits—filled the center of the ballroom.

I plastered a smile on my twisted lips and walked into the dazzlingly lit ballroom.

“Falling asleep already, Snake?”

Leopard’s voice began to bring me back to my senses.

“Ugh… damn it…”

I barely managed to open my eyes. The back of my head felt heavy. I could only remember the stench of urine and feces from whatever terrifying nightmare I’d just had. Did I dream of drowning in a clogged toilet or something?

Leopard turned the steering wheel and said, “It’s the day of the long-awaited Japonica selection, and you’re already dozing off. You’ve got to make it through the after-party too, non-stop. Are you sure you’re okay? Did you have a big night or something?”

Without answering, I lit a cigarette. My mood was terrible. Dreaming about the stench of feces and urine like that, it had to be because of what happened at Hot Chili yesterday.

I’d stared at the ceiling of my bedroom until 2 a.m. after coming home, unable to sleep. I kept replaying the scene of Ray at Hot Chili in my head over and over. My head felt like it was spinning. It was like I’d been thrown alone into the Siberian wilderness.

“By the way, don’t you think Redfox is getting way too into Snow Queen?”

Leopard’s comment snapped me out of my thoughts.

“…You think so too?”

“Yeah. His expression changed in a really creepy way after someone made a joke. I never would have expected to see veins popping on Redfox’s sweet cream-like face and his eyes turning red. Couldn’t believe it.”

I felt the same. I never would have imagined it.

“I was shocked before you even started stepping on my shoes. Even though I kept explaining that she was a con artist, he wouldn’t listen. You should be careful too. If Snow Queen were a celebrity, Redfox’s behavior would be exactly like an obsessive fan. Celebrity stalking is a terrifying mental illness, you know? Just think about how John Lennon died.”

I took a deep drag on my cigarette. John Lennon, huh. That was an apt comparison. Very fitting. It was also the main reason I couldn’t sleep last night.

Yesterday, Ray had been on the verge of killing Tellini. He was a complete bulldozer. No matter how much Leopard and I tried to stop him, it was useless. Even if a hundred strong men had piled on, they wouldn’t have been able to stop him. Who can match the strength of a madman?

I still remember it clearly. Back when Ray was having seizures for two months in the hospital, he shocked the staff several times with his superhuman strength. He tore through the leather straps that bound him five times.

Just like that, with a crazed look in his eyes, he would have killed Tellini in a brutal frenzy, and then… Ray and I would be separated by prison bars. And it wouldn’t have been a joke. Luckily, Sorel and the Freebird members caused a scene at just the right time, preventing that outcome.

Until now, I had viewed Ray’s memory loss as a positive thing. I thought it was good that he’d forgotten the painful past. But I was completely wrong. How could I have missed this? Ray was more emotional now than he was at 28. This meant his anger was much deeper, too. He had lost control and harbored murderous intent toward a mere con artist.

And there was one more thing. This was the most terrifying realization: Ray’s obsession with Snow Queen wasn’t just a sense of camaraderie. I realized it clearly yesterday. Ray believed he

was

Snow Queen. I was sure of it. There was no other explanation for someone usually indifferent to others harboring such intense hostility.

I had no idea how to resolve this. My mouth was suddenly dry. Impulsively, I called Ray. The sound of a washing machine in the background hummed as Ray answered the call, his voice bright.

― Diana made a mess on the carpet, she couldn’t control herself.

“Is that so? I’ve heard there’s a perfume that helps with that. I should pick some up on my way home.”

― Is that really necessary? There’s some fun in training her, you know.

“Anything else you need? Do you have plans to go out today?”

― Nothing else, just driving lessons this afternoon.

“Alright then. I’ll probably be home around the usual time. Good luck with the lesson, and I’ll see you this evening.”

I hung up. Leopard smirked, “Diana’s mess, huh?” I ignored him and pulled out a cigarette.

Anyway, yesterday made me reflect on myself. It occurred to me that part of the reason for Ray’s continued madness might be the way I’ve treated him. His confinement played a big role in his misery, and now, for various reasons, I was still meticulously keeping an eye on him. As much as I hated to admit it, this was a form of imprisonment too.

And then there was my jealousy, which was a problem in itself. When I confessed my jealousy to the therapist, they expressed deep concern. They advised me not to try to control Ray and to let him pursue what he wanted, mentioning how even if I gave him space, he would still feel stifled and stressed.

I knew I should take the therapist’s advice, but emotionally, I just couldn’t accept it. How could I?

I had seen Ray leaving with random men at Snow White numerous times — dozens, in fact. It had all started with that triple encounter with Leopard, who’s now driving. After that, it had happened more than ten times.

All I felt was resentment toward Ray. Ask any man what comes to mind when they hear about a blonde beauty spreading their legs for a stranger, and the image is clear. It’s obvious.

If Ray had just been a little more selective, I wouldn’t have ended up in this state. I still remember Leopard’s words after our first night: “Swallowing all that, as if it’s nothing, for a newbie… wow, he’s one easy one, huh?”

I knew. I had no right to be jealous after having messed around with so many people myself, especially considering I’d once been known as the “Emperor of Lust,” Four Messara. And I knew Ray had been loyal to me recently, no matter what the past had been. I was well aware of that.

But even knowing all that, when Ray so much as glanced at another man, my blood boiled. An uncontrollable jealousy surged up inside me. It was something I just couldn’t rationally control. And though I hadn’t admitted it out loud, my real wish was for Ray to drop the bookshop, forget about everything, and live comfortably off the money I made. I was certain that would be a far better life than the misery and poverty we had endured so far.

However, if my selfishness was influencing Ray’s obsession with Snow Queen even slightly, then I had to change my attitude. No matter how much I disliked it, I had to try.

There was no way I was going to look after Ray while he rotted in a prison cell. I didn’t want a future where I’d be taking meals to him in jail, endlessly staring at him in an orange jumpsuit.

Leopard, turning the wheel, said, “Watch yourself.”

“Watch what?”

“Redfox may seem like a cream cake on the outside, but nobody really knows what’s going on inside, right? Even the higher-ups are staying quiet because they think you can handle Redfox. But honestly, if it had been someone other than me, Redfox would’ve been a corpse by now after what happened yesterday.”

“I know. But do me a favor and stay out of my personal business, will you?”

“Heh, touchy, aren’t we? Anyway, isn’t it funny we’re finally meeting with Senator Fontane after a week? He still hasn’t said anything about the subway incident. What’s up with him?”

“He probably thinks we’re siding with Karl.”

I stubbed out the cigarette. It was one annoying topic after another.

Yesterday, I received a report that the king had once again dipped into the treasury. This time, it was for the subway construction project. Normally, Senator Fontane would’ve been calling me, crying his heart out, but there had been no word from him.

Senator Fontane is surprisingly clueless.

Does he really think we’d side with Karl? Irina needed to battle centuries of royal tradition to become queen. The king’s infatuation with her alone wouldn’t be enough to win. I had plans to pressure Dowager Queen Linnea, Lord Wolfscott’s sister, who was in seclusion at the monastery.

“Chief, we’re here. Wow, this is nerve-wracking,” Leopard said.

The royal palace was in sight.

We escorted Altonen into the council hall. I’d been in and out of this place countless times over the past eight years, but today felt different. Maybe it was because today was the day I would finally see the puppet I’d selected placed in power at Japonica.

This was the day when my colleagues and I would rise to the highest position among the military nobility. I could barely contain my excitement as I straightened my tie and thought about Altonen, who had been giddy with excitement since the morning.

It’s a momentous day, after all.

We entered the council hall, where a dazzling chandelier cast light over the room, and the nobles stood to greet us. The other Japonica candidates came in alongside Altonen, but all eyes were on us. As we ascended the dais with Altonen, applause filled the room.

With the royal crest emblazoned on a blue curtain behind me, I gazed out over the gathered nobles. A rare feeling stirred in me. The whirlwind of the past eleven years flashed before my eyes.

From that first time I jumped in to suppress a riot, to running through the streets, passionately beating down vagrants amidst molotov cocktails and tear gas for three years. The three years I spent earning the nickname “Viper” and torturing the flesh off dignitaries in the underground interrogation chambers.

Then the two years spent in the assassination department, taking out prominent figures and immersing myself in conspiracies. I rose to Chief, and my colleagues and I reformed Guiger from the inside, toppling our rivals. Then, there was that freezing winter day on 42nd Street when, by chance, I met a poor secondhand bookseller while on patrol for Lord Wolfscott.

From nothing, I clawed my way up, eliminating Manen and Lord Wolfscott to reach this point. But why, at this moment, did Ray’s words echo in my mind?

“If you’re going to do it, be a villain who helps as many people as possible.”

It was a fresh idea, and I soon forgot the words. However, standing here, it didn’t feel ordinary at all. I scanned the nobles around me. How many among them had even a bit of vision?

I can say with certainty that there was not a single one. Even the nonchalant nobles were merely reveling in the dream of wielding power freely, buoyed by villains trained in murder and conspiracy.

Sentimentality was off-limits. Founding was easy, but defending was hard. If I were still Lord Wolfscott’s shepherd, this quagmire would have been a delightful playground, but my circumstances were different now. For the time being, I intended to quietly hone my skills. I planned to ride out beautifully without missing out on conspiracy or love.

I looked down at the nobles and smiled.

“Ugh, this is so annoying. I’ve been standing here for seven nonstop hours, and my whole body is sore. But Mr. Fontane, isn’t this too much? It would be troublesome to treat us like this, considering we’ve been cleaning up after you all this time.”

The driver, Cooperhead, burst out in frustration. I merely replied with a “Hmm,” shaking my vodka glass.

As expected, Altonen had entered Japonica. It wasn’t a coronation I particularly liked. Among the commoners, who were confident of their overwhelming votes, a surprising fifteen votes were missing. Even Congressman Fontane had remained silent throughout the election meeting.

This was definitely excessive. Isn’t there a world of difference between the bamboo that stands tall and the wishy-washy reeds?

I clicked my tongue and took a sip of vodka. We were on our way to the Japonica victory party at the Japonica Hall, located in the southwest direction of the royal palace. Dense camellia forests stretched outside the window. Snow-white snowflakes intertwined with red camellia flowers were blazing like flames.

“Wow, the scenery is exceptional.”

Muttering to himself, Cooperhead suddenly spoke up.

“Snake. What comes to mind when you think of Japonica?”

“What a silly question. The spirit of a warrior. The image of camellia petals falling and wilting is similar to a person losing their head.”

“Snake responds like that too… This is interesting.”

“Is there some profound meaning to it?”

As expected of a kid who had gone through college, he seemed ready to launch into a lecture.

“It’s quite meaningful. Think about it. In other European countries, when they think of camellias, they probably just picture the camellia girl from La Traviata. But the Chief calls it the spirit of a warrior and talks about losing heads, doesn’t he? It’s as if he’s been brainwashed. Hehe.”

“Brainwashed? What nonsense is that?”

“Both the flower and tree that represent the three grand ministers are much more revered in the East than in the West. Camellia, orchid, lotus. Apparently, that’s the name given by the famous statesman ‘Lotus’ Drulain. He was a fan of Japan.”

“Very much like an 18th-century noble.”

“Well, yes. In any case, the symbolism contained in the camellia was also spread by Drulain. The name Japonica is also his doing. In foreign countries, camellias are usually called Camellia. Until the 18th century, the people of the kingdom had no different thoughts about camellias than those in other European countries. But now, when you mention camellias, everyone thinks of the spirit of a warrior. I heard that the lush camellia forest over there was landscaped by Drulain’s command.”

“In other words, the personal hobby of a past noble has conditioned the way of thinking of the kingdom’s people? Was that the meaning of brainwashing?”

I felt a bit uncomfortable. Yet, on the other hand, it seemed plausible.

Drulain…

He was a historical figure regarded as a top star alongside Daytanz in the kingdom. He appeared so often in exams that even I, who despised history, had memorized a few things about him. He was the one who overthrew the monarchy established by Daytanz. An 18th-century statesman who emphasized the importance of parliamentary politics and first established the system of the three grand ministers. He left behind the famous saying, “An incompetent king is beneficial to the state.”

I gazed out the window. Was it thanks to that man that I was enjoying this breathtaking view now? Come to think of it, the Snow Queen play was also inspired by him.

Suddenly, my cellphone buzzed with a message from my direct subordinate.

― Pusher has recovered from his paralysis. Depending on the outcome, he will undergo a third plastic surgery.

It was astonishing and infuriating at the same time. Both Cooperhead and Leopard burst into laughter.

“What can you expect? His nickname in his youth was Adonis. Nowadays, his trademark is the Japanese fan, but in his youth, it was a hand mirror. I heard that these days, comedians are making jokes about Lotus causing paralysis during plastic surgeries.”

Cooperhead chuckled. I laughed out loud too. Pusher’s prince complex was notorious. Since he came from a prestigious family, he was indifferent to wealth but obsessively focused on his appearance. After 35 years of psychiatric treatment, he had mellowed out somewhat, but during his teenage years, he was under the illusion that people were only staring at his ‘beautiful face’ and would often run to the police station in tears, claiming harassment. It was said that countless innocent school teachers and ordinary men and women walking in parks had been wrongfully accused by Pusher at that time.

Even so, to think he was still so obsessed with his appearance at this point where Karl was rampaging…

Of course, Pusher wasn’t a fool. He was merely biding his time based on a similar calculation. He had determined that the possibility of Queen Irina’s ascension was slim. Once the war for the queen’s coronation began in earnest, he would throw all concerns about appearances out the window.

I snickered and looked out the window. The camellia forest passed by the window. Suddenly, I felt something odd.

Why? Just as I was contemplating this, Leopard nudged me in the ribs.

“Chief, it’s time to get ready.”

I put on the damned mask. I accompanied Altonen into the party hall. As expected, applause erupted. Not a single commoner was in sight.

Around the king, Karl and Irina, along with the idle club and various tattooed nobles, were gathered, laughing and chatting. Even a few hardliners who had remained loyal to Pusher up until now had joined in. They were enjoying themselves just as I had expected.

As I followed Altonen around the banquet hall for what felt like an eternity, I became dreadfully bored. The sight of the king and Karl’s gang laughing and having a good time made me feel nauseous. It was all just fleeting beauty anyway.

Go ahead and laugh…

I smiled coldly and stretched my back. It seemed that if I endured for about thirty more minutes, the party would end. Then I paused. Look at that bastard.

Karl was sauntering over to the piano again. Cooperhead next to me gasped. Once Karl sat down at the piano, it would take at least two hours.

My vision darkened. Karl began to play the piano. Truly, I needed to remove Karl urgently, if only to avoid that sight.

Karl played the piano, occasionally casting languid glances at children and noblewomen, even smiling lazily in my direction at times. It was infuriating.

Thanks to “Woodpecker,” the former department heads were well aware of the so-called “Silk Pants Temptation.” My fingers itched with the desire to gouge out his eyes, while my body trembled with frustration. It seemed God was napping instead of blessing Karl with the grace of full-body paralysis.

Standing motionless, I began to feel nauseous. Miss Obaska was passing by with a child in tow, her nephew, whom I recognized from one of Karl’s tea party videos. The boy was already five centimeters taller than Miss Obaska. I chuckled for a moment, then froze.

Wait…

A sudden tingle ran down the back of my neck. Just then, as applause erupted and a loud “Bravo!” rang out, I snapped back to attention.

What was that?

Karl stood and bowed before sitting back down to play another piece. I stared intently at the scene before me, a sense of déjà vu creeping in.

It hit me. It was Karl’s tea party. The scene unfolding before me was strikingly similar to the one I had seen in the surreptitiously recorded tea party video. In both, Karl was receiving adoring glances from noblewomen and children while engrossed in playing the piano.

Leopard nudged my arm. Altonen had stood up and said, “We should leave.” Following Altonen as we exited the Japonica estate, I couldn’t shake the strange feeling.

What was that?

The tingling sensation that had run down my neck—it was the same one I felt whenever I was on the verge of catching a big fish. One thing was certain: this was the second clue, the first being Karl’s engagement. God hadn’t been entirely asleep after all.

Excitement surged through me. I mentally locked today’s scene into memory.

The next morning, Altonen, now adorned with the Japonica camellia badge, was prominently featured in all the major newspapers. When I entered my office, a towering pile of cookie boxes awaited me. It took an hour just to have my subordinate clear them all.

I instructed my team to document and report the senders of these cookies—useful data to identify the tattooed nobles trying to curry favor with us—and then stash the boxes in the fridge (our nickname for the bribe storage room). Some of the cookies were earmarked for Guiger’s facility maintenance costs.

At three in the afternoon, the list arrived. Among the 172 high-ranking officials, no fewer than 45 were tattooed nobles. As expected, there was another drawing sent by Karl.

As I scanned the list, there was a knock on the door. Leopard entered, asking, “Got a minute?”

He tossed a magazine onto the table. It was today’s

Decibel

, with the headline: “The Skull Gang Leader Ascends the Throne!”

The cover was quite the spectacle. A bloated pig, dressed in a ridiculous uniform coat and wearing a camellia badge, stared vacantly from the caricature.

“Why not just make it a shepherd?” I muttered to myself, flipping through the pages. The signs were ominous.

Decibel

was the most candid voice of the common people, and this caricature was a clear signal that the public believed we were trying to align ourselves with the tattooed nobility.

Leopard cracked his knuckles and chuckled. “So, what do you think? Should we teach them a lesson?”

My instincts urged me to say, “Bring them here, and I’ll deal with them myself.” But during the last election, we had won over the public, securing 20% more military nobles than in the previous season. So, I had to hold back. I had to tolerate this horribly offensive caricature.

I tapped the table with my whip, then stopped.

What is this…?

A shiver ran down my spine. The camellia badge on that pig’s chest—it triggered a sudden vision of the camellia forest passing through my mind again.

I didn’t know why, but that camellia forest had now stirred something within me twice. After years of working in this world, the only skill I’d honed was my intuition. And my intuition had never been wrong.

I was certain there was some connection. “You can go now,” I said, then took a sip of vodka. The feeling was strange.

The camellia forest, the tea party, Miss Obaska—what picture were these puzzle pieces forming?

I spent about 30 minutes studying Karl’s tea party video, but there were no new discoveries.

꙳•❅*ִ

Later, Messara entered the room, asking, “What are you working on?”

“Just keeping myself busy,” I replied, looking up from my book.

“Solving math problems? Did your doctor tell you to do that?”

“No, it’s more for my peace of mind.”

“For real? Just looking at a math book stresses me out,” Messara said with a bemused expression as she helped me with my coat. I closed the math book and followed her out of the room.

Messara seemed lost in thought. She still brought me gifts as always, but something was different. She had been unusually quiet for the past few days. Perhaps it was the intense stress from her job.

I opened the gift. Two dresses for a dog, some toys, four children’s books, and a pair of shoes. I repacked the bundle and gazed out the window.

Solving math problems was my way of preventing a relapse of Whitebirch syndrome. The right brain governs intuitive senses, while the left brain handles practical tasks like problem-solving. Therefore, honing my enhanced intuition, or “Orchitunica,” was tied to right-brain function.

To activate clairvoyance, one had to calm the left brain and minimize its interference with the right brain. This was why crystal ball practitioners focused on tranquil imagery like a still body of water or a candle flame.

Conversely, I theorized that to stimulate the left brain, activities like solving math problems or writing were helpful. This was why I spent time on such tasks whenever I visited the hospital. So far, Whitebirch hadn’t managed to mess with me again.

I sighed, then froze.

That cursed cathedral was visible in the distance.

“…Is there any way we could take another route? I recall we took a different one before.”

“Oh, that way? Sure, we could take it, but this is the quicker path. It’s also pretty late now, and honestly, the other way gives me the creeps.”

“What do you mean by ‘unsettling’?”

“It’s nothing serious. There are just some bad rumors about that road. They say a ghost appears there. I don’t believe in ghosts, but there have been a lot of suicides and accidents on that road. Ray might not know, but among drivers, these kinds of ghost stories are quite common.”

“Really? It must be a T-field. Let’s avoid that road.”

“Looks like I scared you. But what is a T-field? Another ghost zone?”

“Yeah.”

I rubbed my chin.

“It’s not about ghosts. A T-field is a place where the residual thoughts of the deceased accumulate. Such places generate strong negative energy, leading to frequent accidents. That’s what we call a T-field.”

“Wow, really? Ray, you sure know a lot of random facts.”

Messara chuckled in disbelief. I smiled bitterly. My

Orchitunica

allowed me to see things others couldn’t, so it was natural that I had knowledge of these things.

Feeling down, I gazed out the window at the cathedral. As Messara turned the steering wheel, she mumbled something.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something for a while.”

“What’s that?”

“That cathedral’s name—‘Violet’. Isn’t it unusual? Churches are usually named after saints. I wonder what the meaning behind it is.”

“Who knows?”

I replied indifferently.

As if I didn’t know. It was obvious. If Messara didn’t know the origin of that cathedral’s name, she must have slept through history class.

‘Viola’ was the Latin name for Daytanz’s Queen Mother, ‘Violet.’ She had been pleased when the King, against the priests’ objections, named the cathedral after her. Annoying. A guy who treated his family so well couldn’t even spare a penny for Whitebirch to buy food.

I slapped my cheek. Stop thinking about it.

“Hmm…”

Messara glanced at me and smirked.

“Is that why you wanted to avoid this road? Because you’re a fan of the Snow Queen…? I also heard that king built the Violet Cathedral. Don’t worry, though. I hear the guy wasn’t much.”

Messara laughed heartily. I blinked, confused.

“What? What do you mean, ‘wasn’t much’?”

“What else? Down there, of course. He apparently avoided his lover, claiming it was because of the stain of government affairs. Isn’t it weird that he only had one kid? It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? He must’ve been no bigger than my pinky toe.”

“…”

“I heard his lover’s family was filthy rich too. So Ray, you should just think that the king had a commoner lover to gather support from the commoners and keep the troublesome nobles under control. It’s absurd to think they were in a relationship for so long without any intimacy. Love and desire always go hand in hand—that’s just common sense.”

Messara looked straight between my legs. I crossed them, feeling my face flush. “Love and desire go hand in hand,” huh? That was certainly a very

Messara

way of thinking. Given how they came at me anytime and anywhere, it made sense.

But Messara only knew half of it.

Love and sex can be separate. Whitebirch had seen it firsthand at the masquerade ball—those people were passionately in love. They were often compared to Henry IV and his queen, the pair whose love was legendary. But their love was for one person, while their sexual needs were fulfilled elsewhere. As for the child, the king was declared infertile after contracting numerous STDs and aging just after the crown prince’s birth.

Still, hearing someone badmouth him did lift my spirits a bit. It was childish, but I couldn’t help it. Messara turned up the car stereo, filling the vehicle with a soft waltz melody.

“No matter how big his crown or fine his clothes, if he can’t use

that

, it’s all pointless. Haha!”

“Exactly.”

I chuckled. Messara pulled my underwear down to my ankles, lifted me onto their lap, and unbuttoned their shirt, revealing a firm chest. I caressed it.

Messara was a sensualist, obsessed with physical affection. They wanted me to be as active and eager in bed as they were. Not only that, they enjoyed teaching me, showing me different ways to please them, from foreplay to oral, indulging in every kind of technique. Truly, they were a man full of vitality. Sometimes I even wondered if they’d boast of their virility well into their seventies, like Louis XIV.

I had a silly worry, too. I enjoyed our time together now, but what if things changed as time went on? Messara loved to climax together, which meant I often reached the peak several times in one night. If it were just once or twice a week, that would be fine, but the almost daily sessions were becoming a bit much.

Lately, I’d occasionally seen stars. I was seriously considering increasing my intake of garlic and walnuts. I found it absurd and amusing that I was even entertaining such thoughts.

Leaning into Messara’s embrace, I glanced at the cathedral. It stood there, large and alone in the darkness, looking forlorn, like a lost cat in the winter rain.

The next day, I went to the market with Mrs. Castlemaine. As I picked out groceries, I also bought some walnuts. I spent the afternoon cracking them. After dinner with Messara, I played with Diana for a while before going to bed. The next morning, I opened the fridge and was shocked.

There wasn’t a single walnut left. As Messara entered the kitchen, they cheerfully explained.

“I stayed up a bit later than you last night because I had something on my mind. I started snacking on them, and before I knew it, they were all gone. My father and I used to eat them all the time when I was little. It brought back memories. Cracking walnuts and talking together was the best during winter. Let’s do it together next time, okay?”

When I was a child, I used to eat them almost every day. That was quite alarming. I resolved to hide the walnuts next time.

꙳•❅*ִ

It was early evening, and snowflakes were falling weakly from the gray sky. I was on my way home, with a painting that Karl had sent as a bribe loaded in the car trunk. It was “The Church at Duilieu” by Utrillo.I had to admit, the guy had good taste. It wasn’t some modern art nonsense that only delighted monkeys scratching their butts; it was a piece that satisfied both value and practicality. It was small, perfect for hanging in the living room.The traffic was horribly backed up. I lit a cigarette, rolled down the window, and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel while looking outside, then suddenly stopped.Hmmm…In the distance, I saw a quaint shop with red brick walls covered in ivy. The streetlight in front and the appearance of the shop closely resembled Ray’s old bookstore. Most notably, there was a sign that said “For Sale.”I pulled over and walked up to the shop, giving it a once-over. It was appealing. The location seemed convenient for Ray’s commute to and from where we lived. I couldn’t help but smile.I had been thinking about it, as our agreed cohabitation period was nearing its end. This place seemed more than suitable to sell the bookstore on 42nd Street and start fresh. I called the number on the sign and expressed my interest in buying it. After arranging to finalize the contract the next day, I hung up.As I resumed driving, I became lost in thought. Earlier, I had met with Ray’s doctor.“If Arisa believes himself to be the Snow Queen, it’s not surprising that he’s kept it hidden from you all this time. He probably judged that even if he confessed, you wouldn’t understand. Arisa is highly intelligent and very rational. Patients of this type often have a perfectly ordered worldview in their minds.”The doctor had also said this:“Arisa is extremely self-controlled and has a strong tendency to resolve issues on his own. He would’ve recognized the disconnect between his internal world and the external one. He probably tried to suppress the Snow Queen persona to conform with the external world, and the failure of that effort may be what led to the memory impairment we see now.”The doctor’s explanation seemed plausible. Despite my insistence, Ray had always refused psychiatric treatment. Perhaps this was due to his confidence in being able to manage the symptoms himself. He had hidden them so well, even from me, and had likely been trying to improve the situation on his own.But still, shouldn’t he have told me?I’m his only lover. We’ve shared our bodies and even lived together. He should’ve been honest with me. If he had confided in me earlier, we could’ve worked together to prevent things from getting this bad.Even at the cemetery, if Ray had just told me that he was a shaman, we wouldn’t have experienced that tragedy. If he had, I wouldn’t have made the rash mistake of pulling the trigger without confirming the Ryeong’s face. Having gone through such an ordeal, why is he still hiding things from me?Why? For what reason?I couldn’t understand. I was starting to feel resentful. Was I some kind of monster to him? Well, he hadn’t even told me his name at first. The only easy thing was always the sex. He was quick to open his legs, yet never spoke a word about what really mattered.Suddenly, I felt a surge of anger. I stubbed out my cigarette and tried to stay calm.Think positively…At least he’s trying to get better now, isn’t he? I reminded myself of Louise’s words, that Ray was very committed to his treatment, and let the melancholy ease away.Through the thick, swirling snowflakes, I finally saw the house. I picked up my phone and said to Ray, “I’m coming in now.” The garage door opened, and Ray came out holding Diana, saying, “Welcome home.”“The traffic was bad, so I’m a little late. Did you wait long?”“It’s not even eight yet. Hurry up and wash up so we can have dinner.”I washed up and headed into the dining room. As I sat down, I hesitated.“Hmm? What’s with the apple-patterned tablecloth? Is it new?”“Oh, this? A patient at the hospital gave it to me as a gift. Messara, you’ve got quite the eye.”I flinched. Feigning ignorance, I said, “I don’t have that good an eye. Haha…” Ray, lighting a candle, tilted his head.“You do have a good eye. You immediately noticed the new tablecloth, didn’t you? And every time I’ve changed the tablecloth, I always tell you where I got it from, right? Men usually don’t even notice when it’s changed.”“I think you’re the one with the keen eye. You’re the one who pays attention to those things.”“Haha, I guess so. But I was surprised. You’ve never failed to notice. Especially the one my mother made—you even remember when and how she made it.”“Well, because it’s from my mother. Most of the crafts in the house are her work. I saw her make them all the time. Oh, the food’s getting cold. Let’s eat.”We talked as we ate. Lately, Ray’s main focus had been on Diana. He subtly hinted at letting Diana sleep in our bedroom.“She scratches at the door every night. She’s still a puppy and gets lonely.”“I’m against it. It’ll spoil her. She’s not even housebroken yet. Besides, I have no intention of letting her watch us during… intimate moments. Absolutely not.”I firmly refused. Ray looked disappointed and sipped his fruit juice. Then he muttered, “Oh, by the way…”“The TV’s acting up. I’m thinking of calling for repairs tomorrow.”I paused while drinking my wine.“…Acting up? How?”“The public channels aren’t coming through. And some other channels are out too. Didn’t you say it was just bought a couple of months ago? It must’ve been faulty from the start.”I smiled calmly.“Don’t worry about it. The public channels only air boring news anyway. It’s not the TV’s fault. The signal in this area is weak, so some channels just don’t come in well.”“Really?”