Chapter 8
“Here—take this.”
After finishing sword training, Winter had lunch with Maydillian. Then she handed him a pale lavender envelope she had been carrying the whole time.
“Take it to Ellison, the finance officer at the Jenima Trading Company, Glovain Street, No. 421.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Maydillian nodded earnestly. Seeing his polished, earnest face, Winter emphasized,
“You must give it directly to that person.”
At that, Maydillian lifted his head. Curiosity filled his round eyes.
“Is… is it important?”
Winter smiled gently.
“Of course. It’s a love letter.”
At the words love letter, Maydillian’s expression stiffened slightly.
His small head began spinning with complicated thoughts.
A love letter? From whom to whom?
And why did she make me deliver it?
“…Understood.”
With a heavy nod, Maydillian left the ducal estate, leaving behind Winter humming cheerfully.
The letter in his hand felt unusually heavy.
Glovain Street, No. 421. To Ellison.
He repeated Winter’s words over and over so he wouldn’t forget—when suddenly, a puddle caught his eye.
Come to think of it, it had rained recently.
Several carriages must have passed through; the water pooled there was murky. As if possessed, Maydillian kept glancing back and forth between the letter and the puddle, gripped by a terrible temptation.
“Maybe I could just… drop it…”
If he pretended not to notice, the ink inside would bleed into the water, making the contents unreadable.
If he said it was an accident and apologized, wouldn’t Lady Winter forgive him?
After all, it wasn’t strange for a big, heavy envelope like this to fall into a puddle.
“…No. I can’t. What if she ends up hating me?”
Startled by his own thoughts, Maydillian quickly shook his head.
Letting out a long sigh, he hugged the letter tightly, as if afraid it might fall.
“Good thoughts. Good thoughts. Good thoughts…”
Murmuring like a prayer, Maydillian hurried on.
Glovain Street was quite far—past the imperial plaza and well beyond the main road where the ducal estate stood.
Still just a child, Maydillian walked tirelessly until he finally reached No. 421.
He stared at the three-story trading company building before squaring his shoulders and marching inside.
Then he grabbed the first person he saw and asked,
“Excuse me, who here is the finance officer, Ellison?”
“Uh, well…”
A burly, hairy man carrying three large boxes at once looked around uncertainly—when a woman behind him, flipping through documents, raised her hand.
“I’m Ellison, but who are you—”
Ellison didn’t finish her sentence.
She froze, mouth hanging open.
Her normally composed, intelligent gray eyes widened in shock, and the glasses perched on her nose slid down.
And it wasn’t just Ellison.
Every person inside the trading hall turned to stare at Maydillian—so much so that even customers noticed something strange.
“That… that can’t be…”
Ellison muttered in disbelief.
The child who had appeared out of nowhere holding a letter looked exactly like the late Emperor.
“What—what is it? What’s going on?”
The hairy man asked from behind, still unable to see Maydillian because of the boxes in his arms.
But no one present had the presence of mind to answer him.
Passing by the man spinning in place with his boxes, Maydillian approached Ellison, who was still standing there dumbly with her hand raised.
So this was the woman Lady Winter was sending a love letter to?
Unbelievable. She looked much older—and didn’t seem impressive at all!
“Letter delivery.”
Maydillian said curtly, thrusting the envelope toward her.
Ellison reflexively took it. Only then did she close her open mouth and reach out.
“W-wait a moment, child!”
Ellison grabbed Maydillian as he tried to leave, forcing her expression into something calmer.
“What’s your name? How old are you? Where do you live—where do you live?”
But with every question, Maydillian’s expression darkened.
He remembered Lady Winter’s warnings perfectly.
“My pretty Mei. If a stranger talks to you, asks your name, pretends to be friendly, or offers you candy—what should you do?”
He’d thought Lady Winter looked especially beautiful as she whispered that while patting his head.
And even in his daze, Maydillian remembered every single word she’d said.
He slapped Ellison’s hand away with a sharp sound and spoke coldly.
“Get lost.”
Exactly as Lady Winter had taught him.
With a proud expression, Maydillian exited the trading company.
Ellison, having faced that expression head-on, clapped a hand over her mouth in shock.
“D-did you see that? Did you see just now?”
Everyone who had witnessed it nodded at once.
“We saw. No way not to see.”
Meeting each other’s eyes, they all shouted the same unspoken words in their hearts.
He looks exactly like His Late Majesty, the former Emperor!
Indeed, the Jenima Trading Company had been secretly founded by members of the former Emperor’s hidden guard.
And they had long been searching for the whereabouts of the missing prince—Maydillian.
“What is it? What is it? Tell me too!”
The hairy man shouted, finally setting the boxes down.
But by then, no one was in any condition to kindly explain anything.
“Hurry—open the letter first!”
At someone’s shout, Ellison looked down at the letter in her hand.
Her tense face hardened as she tore it open.
Several pairs of eyes crowded around to read its contents.
As they read the letter with trembling hands, their expressions stiffened—almost as if by prior agreement.
That night, the moon rose outside the window.
Golden eyes—resembling the moon—were reflected in the glass.
Holding a cup of milk, Winter chuckled softly.
“Hehehe.”
“Miss, please stop playing Duke and go to sleep. If you stay up late, you won’t grow taller.”
Nyla said calmly as she finished preparing the bed.
Winter turned around and clicked her tongue with a pout.
“Tch. Fine. Good night, Nyla.”
She gulped down the milk in her hands and obediently lay down.
Nyla narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Winter, who had listened far too easily—but found no concrete reason to object.
“…Good night, Miss.”
After tilting her head briefly, Nyla left the room.
As expected, Winter opened her eyes the moment the door closed.
She slowly sat up in bed and looked toward the window she’d been watching all along.
Then, the signal she’d been waiting for appeared.
Beyond the wall—flash, flash, flash.
Three flickers of light.
Winter grinned.
Early the next morning, Winter dragged Maydillian all over the ducal estate.
Thanks to the medicine Aisel had given her, Winter had recently regained some vitality and resumed the exercises she’d put off for so long.
“Huff—hngh…!”
“Miss, should we rest a bit? You don’t look well at all.”
Of course, her stamina—neglected during her illness—had hit rock bottom.
Seeing Winter’s lips turn bluish after barely running, Maydillian drooped his eyebrows.
Panting with her hands on her knees, Winter looked at him and asked,
“Y-you… why are you… totally fine…?”
“I’ve been training hard this whole time.”
“Then… train… even harder… going forward…”
True to his role as the world’s future mastermind, Maydillian’s stamina grew rapidly. A little running like this barely affected him.
Both envious and proud, Winter patted his shoulder.
Her hand, of course, trembled pitifully.
“Whew. Sitting down really makes me feel alive again.”
“Are you okay now?”
“Yeah. Thought I was going to die earlier.”
After chugging down some water from beside the training grounds, Winter collapsed onto the ground.
Maydillian sat beside her, his face crumpling slightly.
“Please don’t say things like that.”
The word die seemed to scare his young heart.
Finding that unbearably cute, Winter laughed softly and ruffled his hair.
“Don’t worry. I won’t die from running.”
Not yet, at least.
Taking a small deep breath, Winter scanned the back of the training grounds—then suddenly sprang to her feet again.
Her body, with its nonexistent stamina, screamed in protest—but she had a lot to do today.
She hadn’t been moving around so busily since morning for no reason.
“Mei.”
“Yes?”
“Want to explore somewhere new today?”
Without even properly looking at where Winter was pointing in the distance, Maydillian nodded.
He had never once argued with anything Winter suggested.
The two children walked side by side around the back of the buildings.
It happened to be delivery time for supplies.
Watching piles of goods pour in through the ducal estate’s rear gate, Maydillian stared in awe.
These days, Duke Vladimir spared no expense on rare delicacies said to be good for Winter’s health.
As a result, goods purchased from various trading companies arrived at the estate several times a day.
“Wow—what’s that? It looks strange!”
Winter exclaimed as she approached a cart, weaving past workers carrying sacks.
A servant, spotting the young lady, answered quickly.
“Ah, that is… the fruit of the Mona flower.”
“Ohhh, I see. I’ve never seen one before. Where did this come from?”
“It was acquired from the Jenima Trading Company.”
At that, the two children’s expressions changed in opposite ways.
Maydillian scowled deeply—
while Winter broke into a radiant smile, as if she’d been waiting for this exact answer.
