What Siern felt when she began frequenting Ebelstein society was that humans were truly complex creatures.
For Siern, who had spent her life practically confined within the tower of the Rochester manor, the world of high noble society—where even a single step was laden with etiquette and a single smile concealed intentions—felt like an insurmountably high wall.
If the young noblewomen of the Rose Hall did not dare treat her lightly, it was thanks to the combination of dangerous rumors surrounding her, her absurd magical ability, and the fact that she had been the former youngest member of the Ravenclaw lineage, all of which protected her like an invisible shield.
From the very moment that influential figures of the hall such as Diella, Ellen, and Denise treated her with respect, it was impossible not to feel that something was out of place.
And the fact that she had beaten Trisha for hours without even blinking was already circulating as a legend.
In any case, although all of those factors made her someone whom no one dared address casually in the Rose Hall, that did not mean she received no influence at all.
‘She looks like a wild animal whose fangs have already fallen out.’
Seated at one of the salon gatherings, filled with trivial chatter among young ladies, Siern thought this coldly.
Noblewomen seemed to constantly dream of fated encounters, inevitable romances, and elegant princes riding white horses.
For a young woman approaching the appropriate age, this was not particularly strange—but for Siern, all of it felt completely alien.
And that was only natural.
For Siern, the world had always been like a merciless tundra.
Sitting around waiting for someone to come take her hand was the same as standing still in the wasteland until freezing to death.
Survival meant tearing flesh from corpses, dodging predators’ claws, and wandering endlessly in search of shelter.
That was the life of the beasts of the northern snow plains.
That was why watching young noblewomen dressed in frilled gowns, chatting cheerfully about pretty tableware, reminded her of observing wild animals that could no longer bite.
Wasn’t noble society supposed to be a place to refine oneself, devote oneself to study, train magic, and become someone better?
And yet there they were, recommending trivial romance novels like The Scoundrel of the Kelberon Family or The Arrogant Lord Robein, asking for her opinion as if it were something profound.
Watching them, Siern felt they were taking the world too lightly.
‘The magic and history learned in the Ravenclaw family are actually useful, but associating with the young women of the Rose Hall doesn’t seem very beneficial.’
With that indifferent thought, she returned to the mansion in the noble district and collapsed onto the bed, staring into space.
Even so, she had come to Ebelstein precisely to learn more about noble culture and mingle with it.
Dismissing everything as a waste of time without even trying would be disrespectful to her father, who had sent her there.
Although deep down she would have preferred to stay at the Ravenclaw manor training three-star magic, Siern forced herself to erase her apathetic expression and picked up one of those romances that the ever-kind young ladies of the hall had lent her.
Whoosh.
‘There’s barely any substance, and the characters seem to have flowers growing in their heads.’
‘With how cruel the world is, and they only think about romance even in the middle of a crisis. This so-called Lord Robein has a terrible personality.’
Siern’s assessment was merciless.
To her, the women in those novels completely lacked common sense, and the men seemed to have brains filled with nothing but romantic emotions.
Living in such a simplistic way, they would never survive a winter that cruel.
Repeating that to herself over and over, she continued turning the pages.
Flip, flip.
One page after another.
The pace gradually quickened.
Contrary to expectations, the story was easy to read, and it became difficult to tear her eyes away.
Two people facing the ruin of their family.
A male protagonist reaffirming his convictions amid war.
A female protagonist sacrificing herself for refugees.
The moment when the two confirmed their feelings.
Siern’s eyes moved rapidly.
At times melancholic, at times slightly daring—before she realized it, the pages were turning one after another.
Flip.
‘…Hmm…’
And, unfortunately, Siern was a girl as pure as freshly fallen snow.
***
Melverot was an extremely cautious person, but there was one thing he had not taken into account.
Dereck was the most renowned instructor in Ebelstein, practically an absolute authority in the education of ladies.
The nobility of Ebelstein was famous throughout the continent for its splendor and long history, and the young women of the Rose Hall occupied the very forefront of that social world.
Melverot was convinced that if Siern received a lady’s education as a member of the hall under Dereck’s guidance, she would become a daughter anyone could be proud of.
But what kind of place was the Rose Hall, really?
It was the breeding ground of a luxuriant noble culture, a social world where the dreams and romantic ideals of countless young ladies blossomed.
Walking through such a place, it was inevitable to interact with girls full of illusions and to be influenced by the sensibilities and interests characteristic of that age.
Was that a bad thing?
Not at all.
In fact, it was exactly what Melverot wanted.
However, not everything one desires manifests in the way one expects.
“Melverot, what is happening at this hour? You said there was a serious emergency related to Siern.”
When Kalimford entered the office, several advisors were already gathered.
From the legal magistrate onward, all of them were key figures in the administration of the territory.
The fact that people of that level had been convened already indicated that this was not something trivial.
Kalimford looked at Melverot with a pale face.
“T-this is…”
“It seems that Siern has begun to awaken an interest in relationships between men and women.”
At those words, the advisors showed ambiguous expressions. Kalimford, on the other hand, froze.
“What… did you say…?”
“There isn’t much to explain. Siern has developed feelings for someone.”
“Surely I didn’t hear that wrong?”
The great mage, who had remained calm even in front of a six-star black mage, opened his eyes wide and his fingers began to tremble.
“What damned bastard…? No, wait… what kind… what kind of fellow…?”
Kalimford slammed the table hard, his expression filled with fury.
“Of course Siern has grown and needs to understand her own feelings, but even so… it’s still far too early.”
“I share that opinion, Kalimford.”
All fathers in the world had the habit of saying that their daughter’s romance was always “too early.”
Even great mages who ruled the world were unable to escape that rule.
“We can’t hand Siern over to just anyone who came from who knows where. First, we need to know who that man is.”
“It’s Baron Ravenclaw.”
“…”
Silence spread between them.
Both Melverot and Kalimford, deep down, considered Baron Ravenclaw to be a fairly respectable person.
But one thing was acknowledging that, and another entirely was nodding their heads and handing over their daughter just like that.
They would sooner tear off a limb than allow someone to take Siern away, their sole treasure, whom even biting would not cause pain.
Even so, they couldn’t explode into irrational rage either.
Moreover, Siern’s feelings were one-sided; from the baron’s point of view, he had done nothing reproachable.
And yet, they still couldn’t feel at ease.
Melverot and Kalimford felt as though an immense trial had descended upon them.
“E-eh… Your Grace… why do you think that…?”
“Father’s instinct.”
At the question from Magistrate Elden, Melverot answered with a look of absolute seriousness, leaving him speechless.
“Melverot… what… what was it that you saw…?”
“Every time Siern talks about Baron Ravenclaw, she blushes noticeably. I thought it was residual heat, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”
There was no clear evidence.
Just a feeling.
In a situation like this, the normal reaction would be to laugh in disbelief, but Kalimford pressed his lips together gravely.
“Damn it… at that point, it’s practically certain.”
“Yes. I’m convinced as well.”
In the entire territory of Rochester, there was no one capable of stopping those two.
Parental love was a noble emotion, but when it went astray, it turned into obsession.
However, neither of them was aware of that.
The only ones who remained tense were the advisors summoned to that emergency meeting at such a late hour.
And in a household of that caliber, an advisor had to be able to express his opinion with conviction.
Treasurer Theron smoothed his mustache and spoke in a firm voice.
“Your Grace’s concerns are perfectly reasonable. However, reaching such a hasty conclusion about what feelings Lady Siern harbors may be premature.”
“What do you mean, Treasurer?”
“It could simply be a temporary physical discomfort or a fleeting emotion characteristic of her age…”
“And what if it isn’t?”
“…”
With Melverot and Kalimford, there were no words that would work.
The treasurer closed his mouth.
Melverot was a rational and balanced ruler in all matters except when it came to Siern.
Even though he vehemently denied it, all the advisors knew it.
For now, the only thing they could do was observe and wait.
***
‘It seems I’ve reached a point where I can no longer become stronger just by exchanging magic.’
Dereck clenched and loosened his fist several times as he remained seated, leaning against the outer wall of the mansion.
Unless someone, like Siern, had been born with an innate sense for transformation magic, enduring that relentless cold required wearing several thick layers of clothing on top of one another.
Movement became awkward, so ideally one would train magic in the dueling field, but if he was unable to handle mana freely in any environment, then there was no point at all.
Exhausted, Dereck breathed heavily as he organized his thoughts.
A white breath, heavy with cold, spilled from his mouth, rose into the air, and vanished.
The north was still frigid, but in the southwest of the continent the warm season must already be approaching.
By the time new leaves sprouted on the bare branches, the Ravenclaw Academy would be completed.
At the very least, by then he should be in Duplain territory.
‘Having a good teacher is a blessing, but even so, it isn’t enough.’
— You only truly shine when you’re on the brink of death.
Fina’s words, spoken in a carefree tone as she sat on the sofa in the reception hall eating snacks, returned to his mind.
Since arriving in the north, he had exterminated several groups of Merfolks and carried out numerous training sessions, but only once had he truly felt a threat to his life.
When he saw Kalimford’s magic.
The meteorite that tore through the sky as it fell made anyone instinctively understand what certain death was.
In that instant, Dereck felt something enormous and indescribable react within his mind.
Delving only into already established magical theories was not enough to stimulate his growth as a practitioner of the wild style.
‘Repeating only this kind of lesson is already a waste of time.’
It was at that moment that Dereck reached a clear conclusion.
“Dereck. What are you doing here?”
As he felt the northern cold seep into his bones, a familiar voice appeared before him.
Seeing the girl looking down at him felt strangely novel.
Her stature was so small that normally he was the one looking down at her.
“Siern, miss.”
“Huh, are you hurt?”
“No. I was training magic and ran a bit short on stamina, so I’m resting.”
“It’s warm inside. Why are you resting out here?”
“I was thinking of taking a short break and then adjusting my mana again.”
Siern, her white hair falling softly, observed him in silence.
Although she usually walked barefoot, this time she was wearing simple, clean shoes.
The frilled dress she usually wore with her sleeves rolled up was now covered by a winter coat adorned with abundant fur.
Seeing her so reserved, Dereck tilted his head in curiosity.
Without saying a word, Siern dropped down beside him.
“My father is very worried, so he told me to dress warmly.”
Seeing her like that, she finally looked like a young noble appropriate for her age.
Dereck thought it suited her and steadied his breathing.
“So even you get tired if you use mana for so long, Dereck. It’s the first time I’ve seen you panting like that.”
“That’s only natural. I still have a long way to go.”
“I see…”
Siern fell silent for a moment before continuing.
“Dereck, there’s something… I’ve been thinking about. I don’t have anyone to ask for advice, so…”
She was the kind of girl who, just by catching a cold once, made Melverot and Kalimford stay awake all night.
That she was now coming to talk to him about her worries made the weight of the situation feel enormous.
Dereck swallowed.
“A worry?”
“Yes. My father worries too much about everything, so I wanted to talk about it with you.”
“That is… I don’t know if someone without a direct connection like me can help.”
“Actually… it’s not that you don’t have a connection.”
At that reply, Dereck tilted his head.
Siern sat even closer to the wall and, pressing her cheeks with both hands, spoke awkwardly.
“You see… lately I’ve been a little strange.”
“…?”
“When I look at you, when I think about you, or when I’m this close to you… I feel heat rising to my cheeks.”
“…”
Dereck exhaled slowly, sitting in silence, wondering for a moment if he had heard correctly.
“At first I thought it was another cold, but it doesn’t seem to be that. Then I thought maybe it was my imagination, but that’s not it either…”
“I-is that so…?”
“Do you know why this happens, Dereck? If it’s a mana problem again, I’m worried about causing trouble…”
Behind that girl stood no less than two six-star mages capable of paralyzing any criminal with fear just by meeting their gaze.
“…”
Dereck had always lived on the edge between life and death.
But it had been a very long time since he had felt a sense of danger as direct and as uncomfortable as this one.
