The Snow Queen

I unzipped the man’s pants and asked,

“Why the hat?”

“I want to touch your hair. That’s not too much to ask, right?”

“…Do as you like.”

The man took off my hat and began to play with my hair.

“It’s really long… It must take a lot of time to wash. Isn’t it inconvenient?”

“You get used to it.”

I responded briefly, then took his erect member into my mouth. It had a sour smell.

“No need to move your tongue. Just suck.”

The man wrapped me in his coat and pushed my head down, making me take him in deeper. The quiet room echoed with the wet sounds.

I had no choice but to hold onto his thighs while giving him oral. His thighs were rock-hard. If my client, who was likely mourning the death of Marquis Cotbica right now, saw me like this, they would probably pass out in shock. They could never imagine that the person they relied on was sucking off Guiger’s cock. But since our contract didn’t include my private life, they had no right to interfere even if they found out one day.

The man let out a low groan, raising his hips to thrust deeper into my throat. His cock plunged in with wet slaps, making it hard to breathe, as if I was suffocating. His cock was overpoweringly strong and veiny, roughly ramming into my throat, then momentarily pausing. He whispered softly,

“Don’t be surprised. Just stay still.”

It was what he always said before doing something rough. Just as I had that thought, his hand slipped into my coat collar, grasping my neck as he thrust his cock in even deeper.

Suddenly, he began choking me, his grip impossibly strong. A primal fear wrapped around my body. I tried to breathe, but the pressure only intensified. In response, my throat sucked harder on his cock, similar to how he would constrict my waist to make my insides tighten around him. The man increased his brutal force, all the while saying softly, “It’s okay… relax…” as he thrust his hips forward violently. His voice was gentle, but his actions were cruel. His balls slapped against my chin. He moved his hips at a changing pace—slow, then fast.

His groaning became more excited. But at this rate, I was going to die. My vision started to blur white. Pain shot through my throat as his cock kept plunging in. My hands, which had been holding his thighs, slid down.

Just as I was about to lose consciousness, the man released his grip. My airway opened just in time, and I gasped for breath. At the same moment, he came, not just once but twice, thrice, in rapid succession. The man lifted my chin, watching intently as I swallowed his semen uncontrollably. Without even realizing it, I was only focusing on breathing. The salty liquid trickled down my throat. He pulled his cock out, rubbing the tip against my tongue.

“That was amazing!”

His tone was sadistically gleeful.

Slowly, his cock slid out of my mouth. A strand of semen trailed from deep in my throat to the tip of his penis.

“Lick it all up.”

I did as told, then coughed, hitting my chest. Even as I gasped for air, I felt winded.

“You’ll be fine soon. The marks on your neck should fade by tomorrow.”

He zipped up his pants as he spoke. Exhausted, I collapsed sideways onto the floor.

“We’re done. Leave now.”

I said, but the shoes in front of me showed no sign of leaving.

“Hmm…”

He let out a chuckle, amused.

The man picked up a lock of my hair that had fallen to the floor, playing with it.

“I want to do more.”

His voice was annoyingly smooth. He got off the pile of books and sat next to me.

“Are you feeling better now? Should I pat your back?”

I shook my head. The coughing had stopped, and I wasn’t struggling to breathe anymore. The man carefully observed my exposed collarbone. In that moment, I realized my hopes of him leaving were dashed. Still, I said again,

“Just go. I’ve compromised enough.”

“Hm.”

He maintained his nonchalant attitude, brushing his hand over my forehead.

“You’re sweating a lot,” he said with a pointless comment. I didn’t respond.

After a pause, the man spoke again.

“You really don’t want to do anything more today, do you? But here’s the thing. I’m having a really lucky day today. I managed to pull off two impressive feats, so I’d like to finish it off on a high note. Are you sure you can’t change your mind? I won’t go too hard.”

I laughed at his last remark, knowing it wouldn’t work, and firmly said again,

“No.”

“Hm.”

The man blinked, then broke into a cheerful smile.

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to force it.”

꙳•❅*ִ

After multiple sexual encounters, I’d learned that Redfox had a habit of not looking people in the eye. Similarly, he didn’t like being stared at by others. But now, Redfox was staring straight at me.

His piercing blue eyes boosted my mood. He wasn’t exactly a handsome man, but today he was strangely assertive. To my regret, that made him more enticing. It was oddly fun to tease him.

Redfox had visibly changed since the last time I saw him. He still looked sickly, but the wild, disheveled look in his eyes was gone. His auburn hair now had a healthy shine, and his pale skin had a faint rosy hue. It was impossible to just leave him alone like this. I had to strip him naked and ravage that pristine white skin. I needed to bury my cock deep inside his small body and fill him until it overflowed between his thighs. Oral sex was enjoyable, but it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy me.

Redfox, who had been gazing at me quietly, spoke.

“You’re not joking, are you?”

“Oh my,” I laughed out loud. Redfox’s serious reaction amused me. In truth, I was half-joking, half-serious. But I was confident I could convince him. After all, even Leopard acknowledged me as the king of smooth talk. Not a single bottom had ever resisted my charms. Of course, after the “main event” started, they would often end up fleeing in tears.

“This is a bit awkward. No, I was just joking. I’m not that kind of guy. Just something I said on a whim.”

Redfox’s expression hardened at my words.

“Stop joking. It doesn’t suit you at all.”

That look was similar to the one our foolish partner used to give us, staring at us like we were Romanian vampire bats. For the first time, I felt a tinge of annoyance.

“That’s unfortunate. It doesn’t suit me, you say? Despite appearances, I do have a reputation for being kind. Though I’ll admit my preferences when it comes to sex are a bit unusual.”

“That’s how it would seem on the surface, sure.”

Redfox responded curtly. Suddenly, I found myself intrigued.

“Only on the surface? That sounds a bit off, don’t you think?”

“Hmm…”

Redfox trailed off, deep in thought.

“Is it because of my sexual preferences?”

I asked, and Redfox shook his head.

“Then what is it?”

I subtly undid the buttons on his coat. Redfox didn’t resist, seemingly resigned to the situation.

See? I thought to myself, smiling inwardly as I slid my hand under his sweater. I touched his soft, warm nipples, a spot where he was most sensitive. I also loved touching this area. Instantly, I could feel myself getting hard. I decided to go through with my earlier plan to enjoy him without using any oil.

It’s fine… I’ll keep it from getting too messy. Smiling quietly, I waited for his response.

Redfox began to speak slowly.

“It’s not just your sexual preferences. I’m talking about you overall. On the surface, yes, you appear kind. Most people who meet you for the first time would probably think so. And you’re polite too. But…”

When I bit his nipple, Redfox reflexively trembled.

“Go on.”

I teased him, and Redfox’s face flushed. I lifted his sweater, pulling it off. His half-exposed body gleamed pale in the dim light. I kissed each of his nipples in turn, taking his chest into my mouth and flicking my tongue over his nipples. As I gently nipped at them with my teeth, they perked up in response. As expected… I thought, smiling to myself.

Redfox let out a faint moan, speaking haltingly.

“But that’s just a facade. It’s all surface-level kindness, a front to achieve your goals. Take, for example, that time at my place…”

“At your place?”

I asked as I pulled down his underwear to his ankles.

“That time, you said if I didn’t feel like it, I didn’t have to swallow your semen. But you made sure to ejaculate deep in my throat, giving me no chance to spit it out. Then you watched me, clearly struggling, without looking away. Isn’t that right?”

He was right.

I stayed still for a moment before laughing softly.

“I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d have the presence of mind to observe me even in that situation. If it made you uncomfortable, I apologize.”

“You’re just saying that.”

Redfox scoffed, openly mocking me. I had momentarily forgotten, but despite appearances, he had a strong character. I felt a flicker of anger.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. You’ve stayed quiet until I’ve gotten you completely undressed, so I’ll take that as your consent to go through with this. You don’t mind, right? Me putting my cock inside you and finishing there. After all, like you said, I’m a bad guy.”

I deliberately spoke harshly. Redfox sighed after a long pause.

“I never said you were a bad guy… Anyway, it’s clear you won’t back off even if I refuse, so I’ve decided to just go along with it. But only for today. I’m planning to stop sleeping with men after this.”

That’s what you think. I smiled coldly.

Without hesitation, I started moving. Rage surged through me, though I wasn’t sure exactly why. It was probably his arrogant attitude.

I followed through on my decision to do it without oil. I was a man of self-control. Even when I was furious, I never went so far as to cause injury. Instead, I purposely used a difficult position to prolong the experience, delaying my orgasm as I relentlessly pumped into him. I continued until my semen became thin and watery, making sure to finish deep inside him. When I finally pulled out, fluid trickled out of his swollen entrance. His coat lining, laid out beneath him, was soaked through. Redfox groaned in pain, unable to even lift his body.

“I’m sorry. Was that too much for you? Oh, but you’ll probably say I’m just saying that again.”

I was irritated. Even though I had just thoroughly fucked him, my mood was still sour. As I dressed, I looked down at Redfox. His face was pale, and his hair clung to his body like wet seaweed. The sight stirred something strange within me.

I thought about leaving right away but then changed my mind.

“Get up.”

Redfox, who had fallen limp, was lifted up without waiting for an answer. Fluid dripped between his legs, and he was completely drained. In this state, it would be impossible for Redfox to walk home on his own. I draped his coat over his bare body and carried him.

I headed to Redfox’s home, walking instead of driving. It was deep into the night, and the brothels had gone quiet. The cold wind swept through the deserted streets, wandering alone in the darkness.

The street was bleak and shabby. The dilapidated rooftops of old houses, tightly packed shoulder to shoulder, were all covered with thick snow, looking like old women with white hair. The ground floors of these houses were mostly shops, while the upper floors housed prostitutes, drug addicts, third-rate artists, washed-up gangsters, and elderly beggars. Redfox’s one-room apartment was in a decrepit, old multi-unit building. His place was on the fifth floor of a building with red brick walls, overgrown with ivy like a blanket.

I laid Redfox on the bed and went to the bathroom to wet a towel. As I spread his legs, I thought it would be better to clean him up properly.

“A bath would be better,” I remarked.

Redfox bit his blue lips.

“Please, leave,” he said, barely suppressing his anger, pulling his legs back together.

“Hmm,” I muttered, tilting my head intentionally. His attitude provoked a mischievous feeling in me. What was with this shy act? Ha! He must be embarrassed to show me his cum-filled lower body.

With a kind tone, I said, “That won’t do. I came all the way here, so it’s only right that I help you.”

I forcefully spread his legs again, making Redfox cry out softly. The cum that had been inside him dripped out like a fine stream. I spread him open with my fingers.

“Don’t strain yourself. You weren’t planning to sleep with all this inside you, were you?”

I pushed my towel-covered fingers as deep as they could go and wiped the inside. There was so much… I couldn’t help but click my tongue. I had no real interest in forcing myself on anyone. What fun is there in something you can take by force? That would be nothing but dull. True satisfaction comes when the other person tries to meet your demands despite struggling to do so. The sense of accomplishment is indescribable. And right now, this was the result of that.

Though he had spoken rudely, Redfox hadn’t resisted during the act. He’d made an effort to match me in his own way. In a strange sense, Redfox had tried hard for me too. A feeling of conquest enveloped me. With my composure restored, I gently caressed his prostate.

When touched there, no man can help but react. Redfox trembled and moaned. “Don’t…,” he pleaded. I returned his plea with a smile. “Since I enjoyed myself, it’s only fair you do too,” I said, continuing to stimulate him.

Then I took him in my mouth. Slowly, I pleasured him with oral until he ejaculated. After swallowing his cum, I pressed my lips to his.

As I pulled away, I locked eyes with him. Redfox reflexively tried to turn his head, but I held his chin and fixed his face toward me. He avoided my gaze by shifting his eyes to the side. I never liked that habit. It had irritated me from the day we first met.

A slow silence fell between us. As I absentmindedly stroked his hair, I thought to myself.

Perhaps I should have a round of sex for Redfox’s sake this time, to make up for earlier…

I gently caressed his chest, waiting for him to calm down.

“My apologies for earlier. You see, I…” I trailed off. Redfox had already closed his eyes.

Already asleep…?

I was dumbfounded. Well, of course, he must be tired. But falling asleep while I was still here?

Even back during

, it had been clear that he was insensitive like this. If I were Redfox, I’d be on high alert, nervous and tense. But Redfox had already passed out.

I had no choice but to cover him with the sheets. Well, he was too exhausted for a second round anyway. As I smiled ruefully, my phone vibrated. It was Leopard.

“Isn’t it a little late to be calling with a tip?” I asked cheerfully.

Leopard’s reply was brief.

“Get to HQ immediately. Marquis Pilke has just been poisoned.”

I fell silent.

Marquis Pilke was a close relative of Lord Wolfscott. Moreover, he had planned to present his daughter as a candidate for the crown princess in seven months, a candidacy that was almost certain to succeed given his status. For the nobility, who had yet to establish direct blood ties to the Kruger lineage, the crown princess’s selection was highly anticipated. And according to the kingdom’s tradition, if an unmarried child’s parent dies, they are barred from marriage for three years. What a disaster.

They’ve landed a blow on us.

꙳•❅*ִ

Today again, shamans were being dragged off by police on the streets. The prostitute soliciting customers next to the second-hand bookstore snapped her gum and muttered, “They’re only cracking down on shamans on 42nd Street. At this rate, they’ll all be wiped out.”

I laughed as I watered the plants.

Make your foolish moves, Wolfscott.

No matter how hard you struggle, you won’t even get a single hair of mine.

They’ll never catch me. What they’ll gain is nothing but frustration, and what they’ll lose is time. Even if they continue the persecution of shamans for a hundred years, it won’t change a thing. No matter how much they search, they’ll never grasp even a single thread of the spirit.

For the past decade, Lord Manen had not once set foot on 42nd Street. The reason was simple: there was no need to. Wolfscott could never imagine it. My consultations were conducted entirely by phone.

Unlike the previous spirit, Marata, who needed in-person contact, I had surpassed her. There was no need for such inconvenient face-to-face consultations.

Moreover, my phone, used for contacting Lord Manen, was registered under the name of a farmer from the outskirts of the kingdom. Lord Manen was no fool who’d allow himself to be tracked through call records. No matter how much Wolfscott searched, they wouldn’t find a single lead.

As I flipped through my notebook, I fell into thought. The harsh winter had more than three months left. Even 42nd Street was in a recession. The only ones causing any noise on the streets were the groups of shamans being arrested. It would be crocodile tears for me to pity them, a puppet of Lord Manen. I’d long since dried out of any sympathy for those suffering under the tyranny of the nobility.

But the game with Wolfscott intrigued me. It was both surprising and amusing.

In fact, among Lord Manen’s adversaries, the one I underestimated the most was Wolfscott. He was a brutal autocrat, as evidenced by his private militia, Guiger. Moreover, he was incredibly stupid.

Around the time Lord Manen was consulting Marata, he was waging a battle against Wolfscott, Prince Ekdal of the royal family, Suomin of the warrior nobility, and Edelma of the scholarly nobility. Marata advised Lord Manen to form an alliance with Wolfscott, calculating that such a partnership would ease Lord Manen’s burdens. When I took over Marata’s role as Lord Manen’s counselor, I made the same assessment.

At that time, I confidently stated:

I looked down on Wolfscott that much. However, from about seven years ago, my impression of Wolfscott gradually began to change. Having fought in political strife for over 20 years, it seemed he had grown tougher. In the last three years, he had become more cunning. Wolfscott systematically assassinated or framed Ekdal, Suomin, and Edelma, one by one. The cruelty and ingenuity of his methods even surprised me.

In any case, while Wolfscott rampaged, all Lord Manen did was applaud and control the media. Yet, during that time, he steadily climbed the ladder to higher status. Wolfscott took all the blame, while Lord Manen maintained his reputation (or so-called “character”) and reaped the real benefits.

The problem began a year ago, after the disappearance of the three rivals and the installation of the new king. Now, Wolfscott turned his blade towards Lord Manen. Lord Manen could no longer simply be a bystander. He had no choice but to reveal his true nature.

The assassination of Pilke was part of that. In the past year alone, Lord Manen orchestrated more than 20 assassinations. As a result, my counseling notes were filled with plots and murders. The aristocracy, indifferent to the lives of commoners and obsessed only with their “war of gold,” were nothing more than vampires, but I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself from time to time, thinking about what a mess things were.

I should never have gotten involved in this world in the first place.

As I closed the notebook with a bitter smile, my phone vibrated. The only one who would contact me was Lord Manen.

“Yes.”

“Yesterday, I shook hands with Wolfscott at Cotbica’s funeral.”

“Then let’s begin.”

I focused my attention. As usual in these situations, sweat began to seep from my body, and my hands trembled.

“I sense great anger… It feels like my head is going to explode.”

“Hmph, of course. That fool must have thought Cotbica was a sacrificial lamb we had thrown his way. If Cotbica hadn’t slipped out of our watch and met the Queen, their heads would be rolling on the ground by now. What a shame. Poor, foolish Cotbica.”

“The dead are just the dead. Very well. Let’s strike again. Wolfscott has already selected a candidate to replace the Pilke family in the Crown Princess selection. I see the letters ‘M’ and ‘A’ around him. …It’s a girl… I see her… Late teens, with a silhouette where buns like Chinese dumplings are attached to the sides of her head. She’s unusual.”

“I know who that is. Margaret Arikianen. She’s a girl who braids her hair into two round buns on each side. A wannabe celebrity and a disgrace to her family. Margaret, huh… Well, the Arikianen family is no less prominent than the Pilkes.”

Lord Manen spoke eagerly, clearly pleased at having dealt Wolfscott a blow.

“But there seems to be a significant flaw with Margaret’s body. It’s a critical issue for a Crown Princess… Wait a moment. Let me see. The letters are… pouring out of him. My goodness.”

Lord Manen asked, “Why are you laughing?”

“Gonorrhea.”

“Gonorrhea! Haha! That delightful little troublemaker!”

Lord Manen laughed with innocent joy.

“Is there no other candidate?”

“None. Most are already betrothed, and those without a fiancé are either too old or too young. This is quite interesting. So, what should I do?”

“What’s the greatest weapon of a journalist? Just wait for tomorrow’s newspaper.”

“I’ll contact you after it’s done. Anything else to discuss?”

“No, nothing for now. They’re completely preoccupied with the Crown Princess selection. Everything else is fine, but don’t attend the college reunion on Wednesday. It looks like they’re planning something again.”

“Hmph. Let them plan all they want. I’ll be in touch soon.”

After ending the call, I checked Margaret Arikianen off in my counseling notebook. Though I had become indifferent over time, there was once a period when my only joy was in tripping up the warrior nobles. Lord Manen’s newspaper was the most widely read in the kingdom. Tomorrow’s morning edition was going to be quite the read.

꙳•❅*ִ

Feeling at my lowest, I opened the door to Lord Wolfscott’s office. Crumpled newspapers flew toward my face.

“Damn that Manen!”

Though now he liked to play the dignified elder statesman, in his younger days, Lord Wolfscott had been a street thug, hanging out with petty criminals all over the city. His office looked like a war zone.

After commanding me to remove my mask, Lord Wolfscott threw everything he could lay his hands on: coffee cups, pens, handkerchiefs, document piles, even a trash can. Had he been ten years younger, he would have hurled the two-meter-tall marble statue of Ares without hesitation. I didn’t make a single sound. It wasn’t until a porcelain angel figurine sliced my temple that he finally calmed down.

I pulled out a handkerchief and wiped my temple.

“Sit.”

Lord Wolfscott motioned with his hand.

As I sat across from him, I remarked dryly:

“Feeling any better now?”

“As if!”

Lord Wolfscott snapped back.

“The Crown Princess selection has gone up in smoke! Without an external alliance, how can we expand our power? The king has only one son—the Crown Prince!”

“I understand the princess is also of marriageable age.”

“What’s the point of marrying off my daughter-in-law!”

“Please calm down. Dowager Queen Linea is still in good health, isn’t she?”

Dowager Queen Linea was the wife of the late king and Lord Wolfscott’s sister. Lord Wolfscott’s power essentially came from her influence. However, he was also the prime suspect in the mysterious deaths of the princes. Fearful of her brother, Linea had retreated to a monastery.

At the mention of Dowager Queen Linea, Lord Wolfscott finally calmed down. To him, she was both a powerful asset and a burden, a double-edged sword.

This morning, I nearly spat out my black coffee when I unfolded the morning paper. A scandal about Margaret Arikianen dominated the front page.

“Exclusive! Leading candidate for the crown princess, Margaret Arikianen, involved with no fewer than seven men, including her cousin Hedrick! Noble lady enjoys group sex! Gonorrhea alert! Exclusive report!”

The word “Gonorrhea” was highlighted in bright red. The photo, taking up half the front page, showed Margaret, her face hidden behind sunglasses, leaving a clinic. The newspaper, of course, belonged to Manen’s media empire.

As Lord Wolfscott paced the room, he muttered, “It’s the curse.”

Again with the curse.

“Please, remain composed. Most people had considered the Arikianen family to be the obvious successors to the Pilke family. Manen must have been preparing for this.”

“It’s too convenient! Too convenient, I say! It’s the curse, I tell you!”

I sighed. What Lord Wolfscott needed wasn’t a new candidate for crown princess, but a therapist. Manen wasn’t the type to be swayed by superstition. While people dismissed him as a lucky socialite, I saw him as a calculating snake who had mastered the art of survival. Lord Wolfscott, on the other hand, believed Manen’s successes were due entirely to backing from the shadows, but I saw this as just another facet of Manen’s true nature.

But now wasn’t the time to point that out. Lord Wolfscott, when agitated, needed things done his way before he would settle down. I had learned well, after three years of managing this situation, that flattery was the key to handling him.

“I’ll do everything I can to capture the shaman.”

“Good. Have you found any leads?”

His immediate delight at my empty promise was almost pitiful.

There it is.

I smiled bitterly to myself.

But this was a time for tact. I spoke seriously.

“My apologies, not yet. However, based on what we know, there is a high chance that the shaman lives in the 42nd Street district, where many prostitutes, who are known to practice witchcraft, reside. If Manen had visited the area, it would either be for a tryst or to meet the shaman. As you know, Manen is a devout Catholic and a devoted husband, so the former is unlikely. Your intuition is spot on. We’re sweeping the area, and it shouldn’t take long to find anyone who may know the shaman.”

“Of course, of course. My instincts are never wrong,” Lord Wolfscott nodded eagerly.

Satisfied that his mood had lifted, I brought up the main issue.

“Now, on to the next topic. According to some recent information I’ve acquired, Manen plans to aggressively campaign for the upcoming parliamentary election. As you know, most universities in the kingdom are aligned with the tattooed nobility. Manen has already struck deals with the university councils. It seems that, with regular citizens being indifferent to voting, they’re now trying to appeal to the youth. The problem is that Manen has infiltrated far-left student groups with young tattooed nobles, and he’s planning to incite protests against Lord Wolfscott and the martial nobility. The far-left are generally anti-monarchy. If we handle this well, we could implicate Manen on charges of treason and sedition.”

“Those tattooed nobles!” Lord Wolfscott scoffed. After pacing the room for a moment, he nodded.

“Good. I’ll assign this to the deputy commander. You, focus on capturing the shaman.”

“Excuse me?”

The words escaped me before I could control my voice. This plot was my carefully crafted plan. There was no way I could just hand it over to a subordinate. Even if I had been somewhat distracted by other matters recently, this was too important.

“The election and the selection of the crown princess are still seven months away. We have plenty of time. Capturing the shaman is more urgent, and you’re the only one I trust for that. Oh, and one more thing…”

Lord Wolfscott suddenly grinned.

“We can’t just sit back and do nothing. Let’s hit Manen with a scandal of our own. Got any ideas?”

How petty.

I forced myself to maintain a neutral expression as I responded.

“The Chief Justice, Emillen, has a male lover. How about using a ‘female wind’ to strike against another ‘female wind’?”

“A female wind against a female wind… I like it! A counter-wind strategy! I’m looking forward to tonight’s card game now. Get it done right away.”

Lord Wolfscott chuckled to himself, savoring the idea.

I left the office feeling drained. Though my spirits were low, I had no choice. I was the head of Guiger, and Lord Wolfscott had been the one to promote me. I owed him respect. Still, it was frustrating to see how clueless he was. Was it not perfectly normal for a woman like Emillen, in her fifties and widowed, to have a lover? That Lord Wolfscott couldn’t grasp this left me speechless.

The fact that he was so pleased by such a trivial suggestion was disheartening. If we pursued this scandal, it would likely backfire on us, becoming a laughingstock instead of a powerful blow. I headed back to my office, deep in thought. After downing a shot of vodka, I called for my subordinate.

“Kill Emillen’s lover by tonight. Make sure it’s a spectacle, something that’ll draw attention.”

Simply revealing the existence of the lover wouldn’t be enough. The man was twenty years younger than Emillen. She was constantly worried that he would cheat on her, and they often quarreled about his relationships with other women. His mysterious death would surely be seen as the result of a jealous rage from Emillen…

This was the impromptu scenario I had come up with. Since Lord Wolfscott had control over the police, there was no issue.

After considering various possibilities, I was able to enjoy another glass of vodka, feeling a bit more relaxed.

꙳•❅*ִ

I clicked my tongue. The scandal of Judge Emillen was plastered across the front page of the morning newspaper.

He got hit hard.

To the public, Margaret Arikianen was nothing more than a trivial gossip-spreading noblewoman. However, Judge Emillen was a powerful figure, hated by the people as a longtime henchman of the aristocracy, earning the nickname “Judicial Murderer.” While the military aristocrats who tried to present a woman infected with syphilis as the crown princess might suffer brief ridicule, the scandal of Judge Emillen would be met with the public’s enthusiastic cheers. Even if the charges of incitement to murder were dismissed, it would be impossible for Emillen to be reinstated as a judge. The aristocrats were left with a significant blemish.

Would it have been better if I had played the syphilis card closer to the time of the crown princess’s selection?

I glanced again at the photo of Emillen being arrested in his pajamas. Wolfscott had landed a pretty effective blow on our side.

Is this my defeat?

No.

I quickly shook my head. In the long run, it’s their loss. After all, the core of the aristocracy lies in their marriage ties to the royal family.

No call came from Lord Manen. Since Emillen had been arrested at five in the morning, Lord Manen would likely be pulling his hair out dealing with the aftermath until at least tomorrow morning. If it was really urgent, he wouldn’t hesitate to call me. But since there was no contact yet, it meant that even Lord Manen had some breathing room.

The problem lay elsewhere. I couldn’t shake the ominous feeling lurking behind Wolfscott. For now, I decided to wait until Lord Manen called. After checking off the Emillen case in my consultation notes, I put on my coat and left the house.

The afternoon snowstorm was biting. The Snow Queen, who had been quiet for a few days, had returned in full force. The newspaper article said a heavy snowstorm was expected for the next week.

The sky was aiding Wolfscott. In bad weather, people huddle up and gossip. But it wouldn’t last long. By the time the election for parliament was held, the scandal of Emillen would be wiped from people’s minds.

I moved the flower pots outside the store. After a few days in the sunlight, the plants looked fresh. No matter how much artificial light you give them, it’s not the same as real sunlight. Recently, I had become deeply immersed in growing plants. The number of pots grew day by day.

It’s something like that saying— “Even if I were to die tomorrow, I would plant a tree today.”

As I smiled bitterly and moved the pots, something suddenly struck the back of my head. I almost smashed my face against the glass door. The flower pot I dropped crashed to the ground, shattering. Someone had grabbed my hair with brutal force from behind.

“You bitch, did life feel good after sending me to the police? Huh, you filthy bitch! Shaking your ass for the cops and asking for protection feels good, huh? Is that how you like to live, you damned bitch? What now? Your pimp isn’t here today? Who are you going to shake your ass for and ask for protection?”

I instantly recognized the menacing voice. It was the pervert who had been causing trouble outside the secondhand bookstore and had been arrested by the police. But today, due to the snowstorm, there were no officers or even passersby around. The pervert started kicking me violently like a storm.

“What’s wrong with me that you rejected me, huh? You whore! Slut! Bitch!”

The pervert grabbed my hair and started dragging me along. His truck was visible up close. In a panic, I kicked and struggled.

“Heh heh, acting all cute, huh? Wanna try being tied up tight and beaten here? Huh? What are you looking at! This bitch is my runaway wife! She took my money and ran off, that thieving bitch!”

The pervert shouted at the few passersby, opening the truck door. He intended to drag me into his house. I grabbed onto the door and resisted, but the pervert kept hitting me in the back of the head with his elbow.

“Why can’t you just get in! You bitch… huh!”

With a single scream, the pervert was suddenly thrown aside. Then there was a heavy thudding sound from behind. The sound came again in quick succession. Barely managing to turn my head, I saw the pervert being beaten mercilessly by a tall man. He was wearing a black overcoat.

I immediately recognized him. It was him.

With just a few punches, the pervert’s legs gave out. The man grabbed the pervert by the collar and kept punching him repeatedly. Every time he delivered a heavy blow, the pervert’s chubby stomach jiggled like a deflated balloon. Blood began to flow from the pervert’s mouth. The red blood spread thickly across the white snow that covered the street. Even though the pervert’s eyes had rolled back, the man didn’t stop punching.

The man, expressionless and chilling, threw the pervert to the ground. Lifting his boot high, he stomped down hard on the pervert’s groin without hesitation. A scream erupted from the pervert’s mouth. The man, without a hint of hesitation, kept stomping on the pervert’s crotch. In no time, the area turned red with blood. Eventually, the pervert’s pants were torn open, revealing his dangling genitals.

I grabbed the man’s waist.

“Stop! You’re going to kill him!”

“Let go. He won’t die from this.”

His tone was chillingly calm. The man continued to stomp on the pervert’s lower body. He only stopped after thoroughly smashing it beyond recognition.

“At worst, he’ll suffer some internal bleeding and live the rest of his life impotent.”

The man spoke indifferently and grabbed the pervert’s right arm. I winced at the sound of bones cracking as they broke. I barely managed to suppress my urge to vomit. The man dropped the pervert’s limp arm as if discarding trash. Then he broke the left arm as well. He didn’t stop there; he proceeded to break both legs in turn.

Finally, the man took out a handkerchief and wiped the blood off his gloves.

“As a precaution, it’s better to leave him unable to use his limbs.”

He said this nonchalantly and glanced in my direction. After briefly studying me, he suddenly chuckled.

“How long are you going to sit on the ground? You’ll freeze to death.”

I couldn’t move a finger. The man quickly grabbed me and guided me toward the secondhand bookstore.

“Don’t make that face. People don’t die that easily. He’ll spend a few months in the hospital at most. There’s nothing we can do about his limbs, though.”

“I see…”

I trailed off at the end of my sentence. The man who had entered the bookstore wiped my face, smeared with a nosebleed, using a handkerchief. Given the circumstances, I couldn’t help it, but his intense gaze made me uncomfortable. Unable to bear it any longer, I said, “I’ll clean it myself, please give me the handkerchief.” The man hesitated.

I could see annoyance flash in his gray eyes. Then he shrugged and handed me the handkerchief.

“Go ahead, clean it yourself.”

In the next moment, I was flustered. My hands only trembled slightly, and I couldn’t grasp the handkerchief properly. The man looked down at my awkward attempt with an amused smile.

As he resumed wiping my face with the handkerchief, he spoke.

“Just stay still. By the way, you really seem to hate it when people look at you. It doesn’t seem like a good habit, though. Or is it just a quirk reserved for me?”

“It’s not just you.”

Not a good habit? He’s really meddling…

I turned my gaze away.

“But is it really true?”

The man suddenly asked.

“Excuse me? What do you mean?”

“That guy earlier. He said you were his wife, that you ran off with his money.”

“Seems like I had a husband I didn’t know about.”

At my sarcastic reply, the man laughed out loud.

“You must’ve been quite shaken up, though.”

“Do I look like I was?”

“You probably don’t realize it, but your shoulders have been trembling the whole time. It’s a typical reaction after a big shock.”

Realizing this, I looked at myself and saw he was right.

“It’ll settle down in a little while. It doesn’t go away immediately no matter how hard you try. Just relax and wait. But this handkerchief won’t do. Do you have a towel?”

When I pointed to the counter, the man fetched a towel.

“Don’t worry. For the next hour or so, all you’ll be able to do is shake your shoulders, and I’ve got plenty of time on my hands.”

It was as if he could read my mind. The man glanced over my head.

“Your injuries are minor, but they could leave scars. You should go to the hospital. That guy was beating you pretty badly earlier; you need a proper check-up.”

“At worst, it’s just some bruises. You, on the other hand, seem to need the hospital more urgently.”

I glanced at his temple. It was bandaged, as if he’d injured himself by hitting something. The man rubbed his temple and laughed.

“I have nothing to say to that. Well then, let’s both go to the hospital together.”

“Why don’t you go alone?”

I replied shortly and looked out the window. The pervert, who had been lying sprawled on the distant road, was now being covered by the heavy snowfall. It was as if he was being erased, turned white like a smudge from an eraser.

The man placed the towel on the desk and spoke.

“Don’t worry. On nights like this, there are so many people freezing to death that the police are too busy to pay attention to most bodies. Besides, this is 42nd Street. Wouldn’t it be better if that guy died, for your sake?”

I looked at him. It struck me again that this man was a Guiger operative.

“…I didn’t want him to die.”

“There’s no such thing as inevitability.”

The man shrugged and slowly wandered around the room.

After a lap, he stopped in front of the counter and gave a small laugh. His gaze had landed on my coat.

“That coat really seems to bother you, huh?”

Feeling slightly annoyed, I replied.

“Yes, I don’t like it. It doesn’t suit you at all.”

“Well, I’m poor and don’t care much about clothes. And the coat you liked…”

He trailed off. The tweed coat he had once complimented had been sent to the cleaners a few days ago. The man chuckled, having caught on quickly.

“Yes. I don’t have the right to force my opinion on you.”

Although he said that, his tone was playful.

The man grabbed the coat and draped it over my shoulders. Then, without warning, he lifted me up, coat and all. Before I could even resist, he quickly walked over and laid me down in the corner of the bookstore. I was stunned.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re trembling badly. It’s better to lie down and rest for a while.”

The man laid down right next to me.

“Just to be clear, I have absolutely no intention of doing

.”

When I spoke angrily, the man laughed cheerfully.

“Relax. I don’t have any desire to do

with someone whose shoulders are shaking like yours.”

꙳•❅*ִ

Redfox, unable to hide his irritation, glared at me before turning away.

Hahaha. This is really amusing.

The more he acts like this, the more entertained I become.