Chapter 7. The Lullaby of the Wind

The pale blue air of early dawn cloaked the village like a bride’s veil, shrouding it in mystery. Mist pooled in the hollowed basin of the valley, which the villagers called the Winter Queen’s breath. If that were true, then was the dew clinging to the crackling leaves her tears?

Nexiard brushed the “tears” from his shoulders and suddenly thought of ‘that woman’. The one who had crumbled like a half-melted snowman, tears streaking her cheeks. On her ghostly pale face, the only trace of color was her vivid crimson eyes.

‘Are you sad?’

To Nexiard, tears had always been something he’d learned to associate with sadness, resentment, regret… useless emotions that dissolved into liquid. Enemies begged for their lives in tears beneath his feet. Civilians who had lost both family and home wept the same way. That was the kind of landscape Nexiard had always seen. But ‘that woman’ had firmly shaken her head.

‘I’m happy.’

Her eyes softened into crescents, and the corners of her lips lifted ever so slightly. Nexiard recognized that expression—it was a “smile.” A facial pattern naturally formed when someone felt happy or tickled. He’d rarely seen it in person, so it felt unfamiliar, but it was something he had learned. She hadn’t been lying.

A question mark hung over his thoughts. Why joy? She had just been struck by a rude, dimwitted man. It made more sense if a passing mouse had tickled her foot or if she harbored some masochistic tendencies.

“…Strange woman.”

He murmured, his breath forming a white puff in the cold air. Nexiard turned back from the dark, spiky forest edge to wake Myrda, who was probably still sleeping.

* * *

The speckled horse raced tirelessly across the wilderness. I clung to its thick mane, practically buried in it. At first, I screamed, unaware horses could run this fast.

Nexiard occasionally stopped for breaks, not so much for the horse’s sake but seemingly out of consideration for me. Even then, the speckled horse snorted warm breath and droplets of snot, as if to insist it could keep going.

“We’ll have to camp tonight,” Nexiard had said before we set out, giving me time to prepare mentally.

Nature shifted its face with every passing moment. Snow flurries timidly fell and stopped, over and over. By the time the sun neared the horizon, Nexiard had tethered the horse and began setting up camp.

With his bare hands, he drove stakes into the barren ground, quickly erecting a proper tent.

A campfire, redder than the sunset, crackled to life. The soft snapping sound stirred our hunger. We crouched beside the fire with cold ham and rye bread.

“Wait a moment,” I said.

Nexiard had opened his mouth wide, ready to devour the bread in one bite, but paused at my words, clamping his lips shut. It felt like commanding a dog to “stay.”

“Could you hand me the bread?”

“…”

“I’m not taking it from you.”

Reluctantly, Nexiard extended the bread, his expression oddly wary. I took it and used my pocketknife to slice it open, then placed the ham inside. Finally, I pulled some cheese from my skirt pocket. Nexiard’s eyes widened.

“Ham and cheese sandwich. It’s nothing fancy,” I explained.

“…Sandwich.”

Nexiard leaned closer, taking a large bite of the sandwich. His soft lips brushed against my fingers, sending a strange ticklish sensation to my side.

“It’s… delicious.”

“It’s not like it’s your first time eating a… Oh.”

I glanced at him sideways, just in case, and saw him staring fervently at the remaining bread in my hand. My mouth went dry. It might really be his first time.

Nexiard Yul had been a test subject under military control, after all.

How could anyone forget the moment Nexiard’s dark past was revealed? Though it was only briefly mentioned in the side stories after the main plot, those few lines had kept me awake at night.

The military had secretly conducted human experiments. Only the king and a select few close to him knew the truth.

The primary targets were children. The ones brought into the facility faced brutal experiments. Their emotions were systematically erased. They were trained to become perfect killing machines…

After reading the side stories, I finally understood why Nexiard struggled so much with interacting with people. It also made sense why he fell in love with Lanafesia, the only person who truly saw him as human. Even readers who had called him a psychopath couldn’t help but sympathize with him in hindsight.

‘So what?’

In the end, he died anyway.

My heart felt as if it had frozen over. Nexiard sat nearby, eagerly finishing off the sandwich I had made. How old was he?

Even as a fervent fan of the novel, I knew little about him. Despite being a prominent supporting male lead, his age was never mentioned. All the novel said was that he had been abandoned by his parents at birth and taken into the facility at the age of four when spotted by a manager.

“….”

Reality and the story’s narrative tangled in my mind.

The living, breathing Nexiard.

His heart pounded strongly, and blood coursed beneath his skin. Even if his emotions had been suppressed, he could still taste the flavors of new foods. A wave of inexplicable sadness swept over me, and I clenched my teeth.

“…Woman.”

His voice was low and husky. Nexiard brought a piece of his leftover bread to my lips.

“Eat.”

“I’m fine. I’m not hungry.”

“….”

“And I told you, my name is Myrda.”

“…Myrda.”

“That’s right. So from now on, I’d like you to call me Myrda, not ‘woman.’”

“Understood.”

He responded stiffly, like a soldier obeying a command. I truly wasn’t hungry. Just as a storm of hunger had hit earlier, the thought of Nexiard’s tragic fate had entirely killed my appetite.

I stood up and fed the speckled horse a carrot bit by bit.

“Take care of us again tomorrow, Speckle.”

“…Me too.”

“Ah!”

I nearly jumped in surprise.

Nexiard was suddenly standing behind me.

“You, with no sound at all…”

“Call me Nexiard, not ‘you.’”

“Ah…”

I tightened my grip on the carrot. Before I could say his name, he pointed at the carrot.

“Me too.”

“Oh.”

Did he want to feed the horse himself?

“There’s another in the pack. You can—”

“Me too. Carrot.”

I looked into his serious, sparkling dark blue eyes. He didn’t want to feed the horse. He wanted to eat the carrot himself.

“But the horse was eating it…”

“….”

“Here.”

I wiped the carrot against my skirt and handed it to him. The horse stomped the ground indignantly, as if protesting the theft of its snack. Nexiard, unbothered by the animal’s distress, crunched into the carrot as if it were the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten.

* * *

The tent kept some of the cold at bay, but it wasn’t enough to stop my teeth from chattering. We shared a single thin blanket. Nexiard lay straight on his back, while I curled onto my side.

It was a restless night. Every one of my senses seemed painfully heightened. His steady breathing tickled the back of my neck, and every time he shifted, I tensed, worried that his clothes might brush against mine.

The cold wasn’t the problem. What could I even call this feeling? Like plunging into ice water with a body burning from fever? Unable to bear it any longer, I made a show of stirring and called out to him.

“Nexiard, are you awake?”

“….”

“Good night.”

“Why are you going to Teppen?”

When I’d asked to travel together, Nexiard hadn’t questioned me at all, simply agreeing. To be honest, I was glad he was finally asking. I answered willingly.

“I’m going to enroll in the old Royal Academy.”

“Academy.”

He repeated a few select words from my sentence, a peculiar habit of his. It was an impressive listening technique.

“If you want to work at the former Royal Research Institute, you need an academy diploma.”

“And why the research institute?”

To stay close to you. To become your shadow and protect you.

Of course, I couldn’t say that. Hiding the truth beneath my tongue, I replied instead.

“It’s one of the best-paying jobs a commoner can get, and the benefits are excellent.”

“I see.”

“And what about you, Nexiard? What brings you to Teppen?”

I feigned nonchalance. Nexiard kicked at the blanket slightly.

“Classified.”

“….”

“…Information.”

“You keep secrets even from an innocent woman?”

“Yes.”

“But I gave you my sandwich.”

“Myrda, you said you weren’t hungry.”

His voice carried a faint tremor of fluster. I buried my face in my sleeve, chuckling softly. The faint rustle of movement followed. Nexiard tapped my shoulder cautiously, and I turned to face him.

He was so close our noses nearly touched. I held my breath, unwilling to blink.

Nexiard asked, “Happy?”

“Something like that.”

“Complicated.”

“What is?”

“You cried because you were happy last time…”

“I could cry now too.”

“Don’t.”

“…Why?”

Nexiard pursed his lips and then abruptly turned away, offering no further response. His steady breathing filled the space like a lullaby carried on the wind.