At some point, his eyes fluttered open.
“…Mmmnya…”
Damn.
After eating the meal someone from Winter Castle had brought, washing up, and settling into the warmth, the bed had been so soft that he’d dozed off without realizing it.
Latian wiped the corner of his mouth and lifted his head at the sound of rustling movements.
A massive shadow stood before the bed.
Those eerie, flame-like blue eyes stared down at Latian with a chilling intensity.
“Hrk!”
Startled out of his wits, Latian flinched and scrambled backward.
The sunlight that had faintly seeped in through the window had long since been swallowed by the pitch-black darkness, and the faint background noises from outside had faded into silence.
Another cold northern night had arrived.
Latian glanced around at the surrounding darkness before turning his gaze back to Claude.
With only the fireplace and lamplight illuminating him, Claude’s half-slicked-back hair had fallen damp over his forehead, and instead of his usual uniform, he was draped in a robe meant for after bathing.
It must have been a while since he’d returned to his room, washed up, and come out—yet Latian had been completely unaware, fast asleep like a log.
Recalling how he’d probably been drooling in his sleep, Latian gave an awkward laugh.
“Oh, Hyung-nim, you should’ve woken me if you were back—”
“I thought I told you that title gets on my nerves.”
“Then should I call you ‘Master’ instead?”
“……”
If looks could kill, he’d already be in pieces.
Geez, can’t even joke around.
Latian, sensing the dangerous mood, cautiously shifted to the side.
And then, silence.
A strange, tense standoff settled between them.
Claude’s face twisted slightly with displeasure—whether out of irritation or dissatisfaction, Latian couldn’t tell.
“…Uh, why are you looking at me like that?”
“Why are you lying there?”
“…Should I move to the outer side?”
Claude’s frown deepened.
“Get off.”
“Huh? I thought we were sharing the bed?”
There was only one bed, after all.
Latian was just as confused as Claude seemed to be annoyed.
Without responding, Claude gestured toward something with his finger.
Latian followed his gaze and spotted a long sofa near the fireplace.
“…So, what you’re saying is, ‘Go curl up over there’?”
“If you don’t like it, I can make sure you sleep very comfortably. Permanently.”
“Now that I take another look, it seems extremely comfortable. I’ll sleep there.”
The look in Claude’s eyes was far too ominous, so Latian immediately abandoned the bed and made his way to the sofa.
Peeking over the edge, he saw Claude flop down onto the spacious bed.
Unbelievable.
Sure, it wasn’t like Claude would actually sleep while hugging a potential spy, but by that logic, wasn’t it just as absurd to let a possible enemy stay in the same room while he slept?
Either way, they were together in an unguarded moment.
‘What if I pull out a hidden knife and stab him? If he’s that worried, why not just move me to the next room? Bastard.’
As Latian grumbled internally, Claude suddenly let out an “Ah” and lifted his head.
In the darkness, their gazes met—icy blue eyes piercing through the shadows.
“In case you get any ideas…”
“……”
“It would be in your best interest not to try anything foolish.”
“……”
“I have very sharp survival instincts.”
Latian understood the unspoken warning loud and clear.
If he attempted an assassination, his neck wouldn’t remain intact.
So that was it.
He wasn’t kicked off the bed because Claude feared for his own safety—he simply didn’t want to share.
To put it bluntly, Latian wasn’t seen as a threat.
He was just an inconvenient presence, something too trivial to remove but too annoying to keep close.
‘Well… at least it’s better than a prison cell.’
Trying to stay optimistic, Latian curled up on the sofa, grateful for the warmth of the fireplace.
Fortunately, his frame wasn’t too large, so if he tucked his legs in and curled up, it was more or less manageable.
…Or so he thought.
Big mistake.
It was uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.
He’d barely gotten any rest before and now kept tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.
The discomfort only piled on.
It was only near dawn that exhaustion finally overtook him.
But just as he drifted off, someone prodded his shoulder.
Groggy, he cracked his eyes open to see Claude poking him with the end of his sheathed sword.
Through sleep-deprived, dark-ringed eyes, he heard Claude’s voice—cold as ever, even in the morning.
“What are you doing? Get up and wash.”
“…Me?”
“Who else? Is talking back a habit of yours?”
“I-I’ll go wash up.”
Fearing another scolding, Latian bolted into the bathroom.
Still, once he was under the warm water, his aching body loosened, and he felt a bit more refreshed.
After stifling a yawn and throwing on a robe, he stepped outside—only to see an unfamiliar figure waiting for him.
The man gave a polite nod before presenting a uniform to him.
“I am Orshu, the Lord’s direct secretary. Please change into this. I’ve brought the closest size I could find for now, but we’ll have a properly tailored one made soon.”
“Oh… thank you.”
“Stop dawdling and move quickly.”
“Y-yes!”
Without even looking his way, Claude coldly barked the command.
Latian hurriedly changed on the spot.
The uniform was a bit loose, but at least it wasn’t comically oversized.
Claude exited the room first, while Orshu motioned for Latian to follow.
Scrambling, Latian trailed after them.
“From now on, you’ll be serving as the Lord’s direct special aide.”
“Uh… so what exactly do I have to do?”
“To be honest, this is an entirely new, makeshift position… So there won’t be much for you to do specifically. Just answer the Lord’s questions honestly and provide relevant information when necessary.”
“Oh. So, like an advisor?”
“Yes. Your assigned office is across from the Lord’s study—feel free to check it out later. If any additional tasks come up, I’ll manage them, but for the most part, you just need to stay near the Lord.”
At that moment, Orshu stepped ahead to open the study door.
Claude walked inside first, then gestured for Latian to enter as well.
Feeling a bit awkward, Latian hesitantly stepped in.
“Oh, my Lord, is this the hostage you mentioned?”
A smooth, unfamiliar voice rang out.
Inside the study, a man was seated.
Rising from the couch near the desk, he approached with a warm smile and extended his hand.
“Hello. I’m Wibner.”
That name wasn’t unfamiliar.
If this were the original story, he should’ve been dead by now.
“No way! You’re looking well! Nice to meet you, I’m Latian!”
Grinning, Latian enthusiastically grabbed his hand.
Technically, Claude was the one who had authorized the use of healing water.
But the person who had created it—who had saved Latian’s life—was standing right in front of him.
For a moment, Wibner’s eyes widened in surprise at Latian’s reaction.
Then, as if amused, he chuckled.
“I heard about it. You saved my life… Thank you.”
“Oh, no, not at all. I should be the one thanking you. I’m just relieved you’re alright.”
‘Because if something had happened to you, my head would’ve been the next to roll.’
Recalling the urgency of that day made Latian tremble involuntarily.
Wibner tilted his head as he observed Latian.
“Are you still feeling unwell? Should I use another Healing Water?”
“No, ah… That stuff is expensive… But I wouldn’t say no…”
“How long do you plan to keep chattering?”
Claude, who had been casually perched on the office desk, abruptly cut in.
The moment Latian clamped his mouth shut, Wibner gave a wry smile before turning to Claude.
“I looked into the mutated corpses like you ordered, and it turns out they operate by receiving periodic mana infusions from an artificial Mana Heart.”
“…So they actually managed to complete it.”
“That’s right.”
Wibner nodded seriously, his expression grim.
Latian stole a glance at the man in front of him.
Wibner, the same age as Claude, had been a child Claude had picked up from the outside when he was still young.
From then on, they had grown up together, and Wibner had sworn his unwavering loyalty.
An Awakened with a rare talent for manufacturing, a ranger of Winter Fortress, and a physician—Wibner was an indispensable asset to Claude.
“That said… I suppose it’s fortunate, in a way. Mass-producing such powerful entities as primary weapons would be nearly impossible. Black magic that defies nature always demands a tremendous sacrifice in return.”
And that was precisely the case.
The Empire had slaughtered a thousand humans, using their blood as an offering to breathe new life into these mutants.
In other words, every single one of those creatures required the lives of a thousand people to exist.
But the Empire’s depravity defied all imagination.
Suddenly, a calm voice called out to Latian.
“Hey, you.”
“…Yes?”
“Do you know what kind of sacrifice was paid for that?”
Claude’s lips curled into a crooked smile as he asked.
At the same time, an unfamiliar noise rang in Latian’s ears.
[ A significant turning point has been detected. ]
[ A Sub-Quest has been opened! ]
━━⊱⋆⊰━━
[ Sub-Quest (2-1) ]
You are being tested. The exacting Lord of Winter Fortress expects a satisfactory answer. The next sub-quest will be determined based on your response. If you fail to answer within one minute, it will be considered a failed quest, and death will be certain. Proceed with caution.
– Quest Clear Reward: ???
━━⊱⋆⊰━━
[ A critical branching point has been detected. ]
[(❗) Different sub-quests will open depending on your choice.]
━━⊱⋆⊰━━
▸ Option 1: Give a satisfactory answer.
▸ Option 2: Give an unsatisfactory answer.
▸ Option 3: Give a vague answer.
━━⊱⋆⊰━━
[(❗) A death flag has been triggered.]
[ Time remaining until death: 50 minutes. ]
“It better be an answer that satisfies me.”
This man was testing Latian.
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