“What’s with your face?”

The count’s son looked awful.

Normally resolute and composed, his face was now grim, sullen, as if he had seen something that shouldn’t be seen. But when the father questioned, the son answered with the same tone.

“Then what’s with your face, Father?”

Furrowed brows mirrored each other as the two men sought mirrors.

The count leaned toward the mirror built into his desk, while the son casually reflected his face on the polished blade of his sword. And then … 

“Hmm.”

“Mmh.”

They both hummed lowly.

Their faces looked exactly the same.

Not in the way family often resembles, but in the way that something dark, unsettling had stained them equally.

Then, suddenly … 

“Could it be?”

“Could it be?”

“The Frozen Ones?”

“The Frozen Ones?”

They said the same thing, at the same time, and sighed together.

Cardis, the eldest son, began his report. He detailed the series of events with thorough precision.

He had arrived as the prince’s escort. While following the train’s route, he had been ordered to investigate traces of demons. A command he had also personally desired.

He couldn’t risk a demon still being alive and harming the North.

So far, it all matched the prince’s version of the story.

While tracking the traces of the demon … 

“We discovered traces of the Frozen Ones. We encountered their kin and engaged in combat.”

“So it was them. Then… does this mean the demons and the Frozen Ones have joined forces?”

“We couldn’t confirm whether they were cooperating or simply responding to the demon’s presence. However … ”

“The possibility of collaboration is high.”

“We must assume the worst.”

The count closed his eyes and spoke with certainty.

Peace was crumbling … The Frozen Ones were coming.

A heavy unease stirred through the room, rattling the windows of the study.

As if both father and son shared the same realization, they stood silently, gazing out the window at the North.

Then… 

“The requested materials have arrived.”

The steward knocked at the door earlier than expected.

“Already? You found them that quickly?”

“It has been over three hours, sir. But I did hurry, as you requested.”

“Three hours?”

“Three hours?”

The steward paused, briefly confused.

Why were the count and his son asking the exact same question in the exact same tone?

Only then did he realize the eldest son had returned. With a respectful bow, he handed over a brief summary.

“This is all that remains?”

“I condensed it. You dislike long reports, after all. A three-line summary.”

“Excellent. As expected of the man who runs the North.”

But the moment the count read the summary, his expression turned frigid.

Three lines. Simple, yet dense. And terrifying in implication.

Name them the Frozen Ones to weaken their concept.

Once their concept weakens, their presence will falter. Take your time.

Once their presence is buried beneath the snow, step beyond the wall.

The reason the name Frozen Ones had been given wasn’t out of fear.

“It’s true… It was for containment.”

It had been a calculated move to diminish the Eskimos’ power.

Long ago …  Since the founding of the count’s house, that had been the set policy.

Untouched since, it was followed without question.

And so, it had rotted.Corrupted over time.

Caution had turned into fear.

Suddenly, like when he was young, the count turned to the aged steward.

“Tell me, old friend. Where are we supposed to step out to? We’ve called them the Frozen Ones for so long… yet we never actually stepped out, have we?”

“That’s true.”

“What do you think? Has their concept truly weakened?”

“…”

“Hasn’t too much time passed? Hasn’t that weakened concept become something else, something like fear?”

“…Count.”

“Father?”

“When I was a boy and knew nothing, I asked you countless things. Even then, you were already older than I, and you always gave me answers. So I ask again … 

Have we truly been heading in the right direction?

Are we… too late?”

Now sharing the same white hair, the count’s voice trembled with regret.

The steward remained silent, and the young heir looked between them, puzzled by their exchange.

The truths they had accepted without question were now unraveling.

Then, just like in the old days, the steward smiled gently and answered.

“Count. If we have strayed, we simply correct the course. That’s all.”

“And if it’s too late to go back? If we’ve come so far off track… Why did no one ever follow the command to step beyond the wall? Why did we always stay inside?”

But the turmoil within the count wasn’t so easily stilled, not even by those words.

Before his first battle, his first love letter, his marriage proposal, the day this very son was born with that dumbfounded look … The steward had always been there with reassurance.

Even now… he should’ve been, but this time, he was silent.

Because the fear the count now faced was beyond anything that could be soothed by time or familiarity, they shared the weight of that unspoken truth together.

Then, 

“Your Highness! The prince is preparing to cross the Northern Wall, with knights in tow!”

A voice cried out in alarm.

And at that … 

The steward smiled once more.

“You have someone to guide you back now. He’s at the gate. Go. Before he leaves. I’ll take care of things here, with young master Cardis.”

And finally, the count’s face brightened.

He nodded, hurriedly grabbed his sword, and stood.

“Ready the elite knights! I’m going with His Highness! Prepare everyone, get to the Northern Wall now!”

He shot out of the study like the wind.

Watching him go, the steward bowed slowly, his face glowing with pride.

Yes. His lord had never been the best.

But he had always been someone who strove to correct his errors, and this time would be no different.

A warm wind lingered over the Northern Wall, unusual.

The great gate, the only path beyond the wall, began to open …

“KUUURRRRRRUNG!”

It groaned thunderously as it parted.

Snow, packed deep into its seams, scattered into the air like mist.

The noise of pulleys spun loudly as soldiers worked the mechanisms.

“Seriously… when did engineering become this outdated?”

The prince clicked his tongue.

Despite the gate being fully opened, he remained still, unmoving.His attendants, behind him, wore puzzled looks.

“Your Highness?” Andre spoke first.

“Yeah, maybe going out isn’t the best idea, actually. Ughh…”

Sol nervously rubbed his arms.

“The wind is harsh. Please fasten your coat.”

Alfred voiced concern.

Each had their say, but the prince didn’t respond to any of them. He simply stared into the whirling snow beyond the open gate, as if waiting for someone.

And soon … 

“Your Highness! Prince Aziel!”

A voice cried out.

The prince turned with a faint smile.

“There you are.”

The count stopped to catch his breath.

“Finally decided to step outside, Count?”

The prince’s calm words made the count freeze mid-breath. His eyes sharpened.

As if a mountain had risen from the earth, Balzac’s presence filled the air … 

Even the open gate felt clogged with tension.

And then, to the prince who had waited … 

“Take me with you on the hunt!”

The count roared.

The blizzard kicked up with his will, and the prince’s lips lifted in reply.

“You know what we’re hunting, don’t you?”

“Eskimos!”

Balzac’s voice echoed through the Northern Wall … Everyone held their breath.

But within the prince’s eyes, a fire kindled, madness and killing intent mingled.

And that same fire took hold in the count’s eyes, as if passed from one to another.

Yes … It was time.

“At last, we’re assembled. Let’s go. It’s time to begin the hunt.”

The moment they stepped beyond the gate, the blizzard …  As if waiting, suddenly ceased.

In the silence, the only sound was the crunch of footsteps in snow, and from within the wall, hidden soldiers watched in awe, hearts pounding.

For the first time since the founding of House Balzac, The North, which had only ever defended, was taking the offensive.

Following the mad prince’s flame.