Seeing Annan standing before her, lost in thought with his back to her.
Kafney’s crystal red eyes were filled with worry, mixed with a trace of fear.
—the fear of being abandoned, being denied.
It was just between a few words—without even having confronted Philip in person.
Yet she had deduced Philip’s entire plan through extrely subtle traces and even guessed his reform asures after taking the throne, including the political situation of the Kingdom of Noah decades later.
This was not wisdom that a mortal could possess.
Although Annan had not officially acquired Elental Power,
there was no doubt that this level was already a sign of deep awakening of the elent of "Wisdom".
If Annan did not plan to help her...
No, rather should say.
If Annan were not standing behind her, the courage in Kafney that seed ready to confront anything would be like a tree without roots, water without a source.
She had no confidence in herself to begin with.
And so, when her brothers and sisters thought she was a mad girl, a monster, she did not argue, did not seek help, did not resist... but simply hid in a corner where no one was and continued to paint.
It was during the grand and dark ritual "The Great Hunt of Fate" that she saw the strong, just, and wise young Annan.
He was nearly the sa age as herself... barely half a year older.
But Annan was so courageous, so powerful—
Even though no one understood his achievents, and there would never be a chance to know the truth, Annan didn’t choose to delight in schadenfreude and run away, nor did he turn back to deliver a final blow to the entire upper echelons of the "neighboring country".
Instead, he resolutely risked his life to disrupt the villains’ ritual.
He saved everyone, including Kafney.
But to Annan, these people should have been aningless strangers—
That’s what Kafney thought at the ti.
—He was a hero unknown and unsung.
And it was for this reason that she was awed by that radiant soul.
Just and yet gentle. Powerful and wise.
...Like a father, yet like a mother.
Compared to her father, who was even timid towards Kafney, needing her to save him in return, and her malicious mother, who saw Kafney as an unconscious tool to be manipulated at will.
At that ti, Annan was her hero, her "idol".
It was with the "Eyes of Frost" that Annan gave her that Kafney was able to protect herself; and by imitating Annan’s actions and thought patterns, she managed to escape from the clutches of the "Dream Stealer" Denton.
Yes.
It was Annan who gave her the courage to fight against all this malignity—and the confidence to overco everything.
If only Annan could praise her.
But instead, Annan affird Philip’s sches, admired the other’s intelligence.
...Now Annan, as the Grand Duke of Winter.
She must stand as his equal in status to have the courage to continue following him—not to ntion, what she wanted to do was far more than just that.
She wanted to protect Annan, even to possess him. But these preconditions relied on Annan still standing with her.
But if she was not even as valuable to Annan as Philip...
Kafney suddenly felt a strong unease.
—What do I have left to offer Annan?
It was only then that she suddenly realized.
The wisdom she was praised for was rely a "shadow" obtained by mimicking Annan; her strong will, compared to Annan who could bear the curse of the Heart of Winter, was also insignificant; having been purified twice by Annan of her corruption, Kafney had touched the threshold of the Gold stage, yet it seed Annan’s forces were not lacking soone of her level of combat capability.
...It seed there was nothing unique about her.
The mont she realized this, Kafney’s greed for Annan dissipated quite a bit. And in the blink of an eye, it softened into a squishy affection and adoration.
"Your Majesty..."
Kafney murmured softly.
Subconsciously, Kafney reached out to touch Annan’s back.
But the mont her fingertips touched Annan’s back.
A cool and delicate touch passed through the white robe gifted by the Silver Baron to her fingertips. It felt like jade wrapped in silk, cold to the touch... Kafney’s fingertips couldn’t help but tremble, and she timidly withdrew her hand.
However, at that mont, Annan sensed Kafney’s touch and imdiately turned around.
Kafney’s fingertips thus grazed Annan’s skin even more distinctly, and just before they fell away, Annan casually caught her hand.
"...Although, however."
Annan said in a low voice, sowhat troubled, "It’s a little ticklish..."
The gesture was perhaps too intimate. It felt as though he had been teased...
If he were a girl, it would certainly be considered harassnt.
Unfortunately for Annan, he was already a grown man— in Winter, one ca of age at fifteen. Kafney, on the other hand, was still an underage girl.
Turning back, Annan imdiately noticed Kafney’s gaze.
It was fraught with the anxious unease of a young animal separated from its mother.
A layer of mist appeared to shroud her ruby-like, transparent pupils.
It was only a very brief exchange of glances.
Annan imdiately bypassed evidence and process, understanding Kafney’s inner voice.
"Don’t worry. There’s no need for concern."
Annan took Kafney’s hand and knelt before her.
Then finding the position sowhat uncomfortable, he switched to a knightly half-kneel.
Seeing this posture, Kafney’s ruby-like eyes widened ever so slightly.
Annan comforted her in a warm and gentle voice, "Even though I recognize Philip’s plan and talent, I will still choose to support you. After all, I ca all the way from Winter just to help you—"
Before Annan could finish,
Kafney flung herself off the sofa.
She hugged Annan’s shoulder with her left arm, resting her head on his left shoulder. Annan did not resist Kafney’s kitten-like pounce; instead, he leaned slightly backward, resting against the table.
Worried that Annan’s head would hit the edge of the table, Kafney cushioned his head with her right hand in the instant she lunged, so that her hand would first make contact with the edge of the table.
Her constitution was far weaker than Annan’s, such that she imdiately bruised into a red mark.
Annan was sowhat at a loss, mixed with confusion and bewildernt.
—Why such a sudden reaction?
He sighed helplessly, extending his left hand to support Kafney’s back, to prevent her from falling off.
But worried that his raised knee would bump into her, he instinctively opened up his raised left leg forward, positioning it on the sofa.
At the sa ti, he stretched out his right hand backward, propping it with his elbow on the soft and warm cashre carpet.
Black and white hair intertwined, forming a cocoon of two colors... one warm side, one cold side.
The mont her emotions spun out of control and she buried herself in Annan’s arms, Kafney almost instantly regretted it—she worried such an overstepping act would make Annan think she was a frivolous girl.
But now that she had flung herself forward... she could no longer care so much.
Kafney’s eyes once again conjured the image of the boy from the past in a sea of crystal flowers, who extended his right hand to her with an indifferent look.
Daring to reach out to her, a monstrous child, he had a terrifyingly low body temperature and a heart like an unceasing blizzard.
—He must be a far more powerful monster.
Perhaps a wolf living among the tundra... no, maybe a frost-winged dragon.
That was the thought that surfaced in Kafney’s mind in that long-ago mont.
Can I really protect such a powerful monster, sir?
Can I do it?
Kafney closed her eyes, pinning Annan down, subconsciously thinking to herself.
—Your heart is terrifying. I’ve never seen such large snow...
—Naturally. My heart is like ice.
—Are you also a monster?
—Correct, I am a monster. My na is Annan.
...Forget it.
Whether I can do it or not.
He must be mine...
...Or let beco his.
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