Chapter 30

The sleet that had poured down the previous day had turned into thick snow by the next morning. It continued to fall and stop throughout the day, and finally, the sky cleared, leaving the world blanketed in white and cold.

“…Ma.”
“…”
“Mom!”

Edith, who had only fallen into a deep sleep due to recently worsened insomnia, opened her heavy eyes at the youthful voice. Her partially opened vision was softened into white by the sunlight streaming through the window.

“Mommm!”

A small, chubby hand shook her cheek back and forth. Edith struggled to rouse her consciousness, which kept drifting back into sleep.

“Mm, Leon.”

“Where’s Uncle Perrel?”

“He went somewhere with Grandma Mari for a bit.”

Although he had gone to scout a new hiding place, Edith couldn’t explain everything in detail, so she gave a vague answer.

“When will he be back? We have to make a snowman.”

“What should we do, Leon? I don’t think he can come today.”

It would take a few days just to go there and back.

Hearing this, Leon, who had been glancing between her and the window, frowned. Outside, the sky was clear as if it had never snowed, but he seemed worried the snow might melt away.

“Then what about my snowman? Mom, I want a snowman!”

As Leon began to throw a small tantrum, Edith pulled him close and laid him down. Holding him in her arms, the child wriggled a little, letting out soft grunts, but gradually calmed down.

Closing her tired eyes, she patted the small back in her arms.

“Sleep a little more, have lunch later, and then we’ll go outside. It’s too cold right now.”

Her tone was soft but firm. Leon nodded obediently. In truth, he, too, had woken earlier than usual and was still a little sleepy.

He snuggled further into her warm embrace. Her chest smelled sweet, soft, and warm. The rhythm of her hand patting his back gradually slowed, and the unfinished sleep overcame him as he thought about the snowman.

“Haahh…”

Leon let out a drowsy yawn, and his breathing slowly evened out.

Exhaling white breath, Jeckart walked silently along the path. With each step, the snow under his feet crunched.

After a while, he arrived at a hill where a mansion came into view. Painted black, the mansion stood alone along a forest path, far from any neighborhood.

‘The address seems right…’

Even if he had found the place correctly, he couldn’t be sure that Perrel Monty was actually inside. After all, he was just one of the adults.

‘Still, the highest probability.’

The reason he could deduce their hiding place before even Stifts could figure it out was because he had something they didn’t.

That is—the diary.

From a diary he had obtained earlier, Jeckart learned of a woman named Mrs. Mari. Her full name was Mari Ember.

Though she was a citizen of Glissen and appeared to have no connection to the resistance, in reality she was very close to the female leader of the resistance. She had served as the woman’s housemaid for many years and had also cared for her child when the woman was in Hasmal.

Given the current situation, she was the most suitable person to provide aid to the resistance. Even if that weren’t the case, he guessed that the woman would seek her out, at least because of the child. Following the traces of Mari Ember, Jeckart had arrived here.

He pulled a scope from his coat and examined the mansion more closely. It was quiet and deserted. Every window was covered with curtains, leaving the interior completely hidden. No footprints marred the snow in the yard. At least, no one had entered or left the place since the snowfall.

‘Or maybe I’m wrong.’

Lowering the scope, he slowly began to descend the hill. He planned to observe more closely from a nearer vantage point. The back of the mansion, hidden from the front, might hold some meaningful signs.

It was then that the heavily locked door began to open. Jeckart slowed his pace and finally came to a stop.

Someone was coming out of the mansion. Though still some distance away, it was close enough for them to recognize each other. Yet he did not hide. The figure leaving the mansion was too small to worry about.

A child.

The same child who had stirred something in him the last time in Berg, just by existing.

The child left the mansion with an unsteady gait, looking excited. He stomped his feet into the snow, scattered handfuls into the air, and watched the flakes fall.

Watching this, Jeckart felt a strange stiffness somewhere inside him.

Was it his clenched jaw?
Or his tightly clenched hand?
Or maybe the faint dizziness in his head?

All these guesses were useless. Even if he relaxed his jaw and hands and shook his head, the dull discomfort did not go away.

Eventually, a distant feeling came over him. Ah, so the stiffness must be from the heart. Reaching this somewhat vague conclusion, Jeckart began to walk absentmindedly.

As the distance between them closed, the child noticed his presence and stopped in his tracks. The outline of the child became clearer.

“Hello.”

The child greeted him. Jeckart stopped again. The child stared at him silently. Winter-scented wind blew, ruffling their similar black hair.

It was the child who took the next step, closing the remaining distance. Seeing the child run toward him, Jeckart flinched for a moment. At the same time, the child tripped and fell forward. The sudden accident halted everything abruptly.

Jeckart helped the child to his feet.

Maybe because the connection had been broken and reformed, his thoughts lagged. His hands and feet moved automatically, not only helping the child up but brushing snow off the child’s face and clothes. None of this was planned. His heart felt increasingly confused.

It was then that the child spoke.

“Please do this for me.”

Jeckart looked down at the child’s slightly trembling eyes. Only then did he notice the child’s sloppy clothing.

The coat over pajamas had all its buttons undone, the scarf was confusedly wrapped, and the gloves were on wrong, with the thumbs in the pinky slots.

Jeckart knelt down.

“…Mom?”

As he fastened the first button, he asked, his voice trembling slightly at the edges.

“Mom is sleeping.”

“And the rest of your family?”

“Samchoni and Grandma are here, but they went somewhere.”

“Then why did you come out?”

The child’s black eyes dropped quickly. He seemed to know it was wrong to come out alone. The answer came as Jeckart fastened the last button.

“…Snowman.”

“What?”

“I want to make a snowman.”

The child stared at him. His eyes, sometimes reminiscent of the woman, sometimes not, seemed wistful, yearning for something.

“I want to make a snowman.”

He repeated the words more clearly this time. Jeckart chuckled a little at the boldness and persistence. This was indeed the woman’s son. Maybe not in the eyes, but the gaze was very similar to hers.

‘The eyes are a bit like mine, maybe…’

His unconscious thoughts stopped there. It was amusing—imagining he resembled him, when only Maximilian Lindel might. Such a delusion was ridiculous.

‘Especially delusions born of deep desire—they’re common, but also the strongest.’

Realizing even the origin of his delusion deepened his self-mockery.

With a wry laugh, Jeckart stood up. The child’s head, now properly dressed, tilted up to follow him.

“Go.”

Jeckart thought it was time to return. Even if it was just a child, exposing oneself like this had been an unacceptable mistake. Moreover, according to the child, Perrel Monty seemed to be out. There was no reason to stay here any longer.

Fortunately, the child did not try to stop him. He didn’t know why he felt relieved. Even if the child had stopped him, he wasn’t going to change his mind.

Jeckart returned to the hill he had come from, took out his scope again, and looked back at where he had been. Through the lens, he could see the child crouching, trying to form snowballs. Naturally, the small hands failed to make even tiny snowballs. After watching for a while, he adjusted the scope and focused on the mansion’s door. It remained quiet. Frustration welled up inside him.