At the small commotion outside the door, Ludger let out a quiet, amused chuckle.
‘Same as ever. That shamelessly foolish behavior of hers hasn’t changed at all.’
“Leader... I’m sorry.”
Arfa looked down, guilt clouding his face as he glanced at Ludger, who had just closed the door.
Ludger shook his head.
“It’s fine.”
“But I opened the door to the one person we should be most cautious about...”
“No one could have expected her to approach so brazenly. There’s no one to blame for that.”
Though Ludger dismissed it lightly, Arfa still couldn’t suppress the guilty look on his face.
“But still... what if she figured out who you are during that conversation?”
“She didn’t. Judging from her reaction, she didn’t suspect a thing.”
Arfa focused his sharp hearing on the sounds beyond the door. Just as Ludger had said, Queen Yekaterina was simply gushing about how handsome he was, not showing even a hint that she recognized him.
“By the way... is she really like that by nature?”
When Yekaterina first entered the hotel lobby, she hadn’t given off that impression at all. Her expression had been cold, showing no hint of emotion.
The first impression she gave off had been like the icy glaciers of the north—aloof, cold, and perfectly befitting the leader of Yuta Kingdom, the one they called the Queen of Frost.
But judging from the conversation filtering through the door, her personality seemed the exact opposite of that.
“She used to be worse.”
“Worse?”
“She didn’t even bother pretending to be dignified back then.”
“So... what kind of person is Queen Yekaterina, really?”
Arfa tilted his head curiously, and Ludger rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his fingers.
Yekaterina Volsbaya.
The first impression Ludger had of her was simple.
If she had been born in the Kingdom of Durmang instead of Yuta, she would’ve been guillotined without a second thought.
Her laugh alone had screamed “spoiled noblewoman.” She seemed the type to obsess over pretty jewels and spend lavishly.
Of [N O V E L I G H T] course, after talking with her a few times, he realized she was nothing like that deep down.
Still, even after accounting for that, Ludger’s opinion of her wasn’t exactly glowing.
“She was foolish and naïve. Not at all suited to be a leader.”
“Huh? Then how did someone like that manage to win a civil war?”
“She had great people around her. That’s the kind of person she is—she has this strange ability to attract talented people. Maybe that’s why Prince Alexei chased her down so desperately, even when he already had the upper hand. He probably feared exactly that.”
“By great people, you mean... including you, Leader?”
“Hardly. I did very little.”
Arfa tilted his head at that. How could a mercenary who was known as one of the key figures in winning the civil war say he did very little?
But he remembered what Hans had told him countless times: The Leader has a habit of downplaying his own accomplishments. No matter what he says, don’t argue about it.
Arfa might’ve lacked common sense, but he was quick to follow advice, so he kept quiet.
“Still... that’s unexpected.”
“What is?”
“I just didn’t think someone like you would choose a person like her.”
Someone like her.
For anyone else, saying such a thing about a queen might have sounded harsh, but Arfa’s innocent perspective made it come out naturally.
And Ludger himself had to admit Arfa wasn’t wrong.
“So... choosing Queen Yekaterina means the prince must have been even worse, right?”
“On the surface, Prince Alexei seemed like the better choice. He was the complete opposite of Yekaterina.”
Unlike Yekaterina, who always smiled strangely and acted like a childish fool, Prince Alexei was calm, intelligent, and eloquent.
He was socially respected, maintained a good public image, and consistently impressed people through public appearances.
“Oh. Then wouldn’t it have been better to choose the prince?”
“You could think that.”
“But you chose differently. Why?”
“Arfa, public opinion is never that simple. People wear masks.”
“Masks?”
“Alexei looked kind on the outside, but inside he was a cold-blooded psychopath who couldn’t empathize with others.”
The image he showed the public was completely fabricated.
The real Alexei was cruel—he never hesitated to kill innocent citizens if necessary, and he treated his own loyal followers as disposable tools.
When the civil war broke out, it was his reckless conscription and brutal purges of those who refused that caused the greatest suffering to civilians.
“On the other hand, Yekaterina—back then still just a princess—might have seemed like a typical arrogant noble, but she had a warm heart that cared for others more than anyone.”
Arfa recalled Yekaterina’s conversation with her attendants just moments ago.
Her way of speaking to them wasn’t at all like a queen commanding subordinates.
It felt closer to how one would talk to family or friends.
Unfit behavior for a queen, perhaps. But somehow, it made her feel like a character out of a fairy tale.
“That’s why, in that frozen land, I chose to support her. She was like a flame.”
“A flame? But how can a person be a flame?”
“......It’s a metaphor.”
In that harsh, frozen land, Yekaterina had been like a blazing torch.
People were drawn to that light, almost mesmerized.
In the middle of blinding snowstorms, her bright crimson fire had shone vividly.
It was only natural that great people gathered around her.
“But at the start of the civil war, Prince Alexei had the advantage, right?”
“Yes. Public opinion was on his side before the war began. But that was because he’d already been manipulating things behind the scenes. From the start, he was preparing for war.”
When the civil war began, everyone believed Alexei would win.
Merchants, powerful nobles, military generals—all of them placed their bets on him, thinking that was the only way to maintain good relations with Yuta Kingdom.
And indeed, things were heading toward that outcome...
“But in the end, victory was hers. The prince’s cold ambition to dominate the north melted away under her fiery will.”
One of the most famous stories from the civil war was of Yekaterina fighting at the front lines under Yuta’s banner.
A black-and-white photograph, taken by a war correspondent by chance, ended up plastered across newspapers.
That photo changed how people saw her, inspiring terrified citizens to finally support her.
And so, Yuta Kingdom’s civil war—known as [The War of Frost and Flame]—ended in Yekaterina’s victory.
“So justice won in the end.”
“Yes. The right side won.”
Ludger said it as if it were someone else’s business.
But in truth, he couldn’t help remembering those days.
They hadn’t been pleasant memories—battlefields never were—but meeting someone who would change the fate of an entire nation was something unforgettable.
─ You’re that mercenary, aren’t you?
He remembered her walking up to him as he sat by the fire, holding his rifle.
─ I’m Yekaterina Volsbaya. People call me the princess of tyranny and indulgence.
She hadn’t even tried to hide her identity, even as a fugitive.
She had looked at him with clear, unwavering eyes.
─ I need your strength.
Ludger had been taken aback by her boldness.
She was a fugitive with barely any forces at her side, yet she had the audacity to ask for his help.
Besides, he wasn’t even a real mercenary. He was only disguised as one to search for relic fragments in Yuta.
He had no obligation to fight for her.
If he had been a real mercenary, selling her out to Alexei would’ve been far more profitable.
Ignoring her would’ve been the logical choice.
And yet, he found himself saying—
─ I’m a mercenary. If you want to hire me, pay me. Then maybe I’ll accept.
─ I can’t. I don’t have a single coin right now.
Ludger had stared at her, dumbfounded.
─ Bold of you. You still dare to ask for my help? I could turn you over to the prince for far more money.
─ Would you?
─ Why not? Wouldn’t you regret it?
─ Ohoho! Then I guess I was wrong about you!
Whether she was brave or just stupid, Yekaterina hadn’t scolded him for speaking so bluntly to royalty.
She had simply laughed cheerfully.
─ But no, I don’t regret anything!
─ Why not?
─ Because this is my choice. If it goes wrong, the responsibility is mine alone. Failure would be sad, but that’s why I have to do everything I can not to fail, right?
─ ......
─ So I’ll keep moving forward, no matter what.
There had been nothing regal about her in that moment.
She had looked more like a dreamer lost in her ideals.
‘Yes. She hadn’t seemed like royalty at all.’
If by some miracle such a person won a civil war and became queen, what kind of country would that be?
A nation ruled by someone who didn’t command with authority, who didn’t stand above others...
It sounded ridiculous.
And yet, if it truly existed, it would be a warm, fairy-tale-like country.
─ Yekaterina, was it?
─ Yes, that’s right.
─ If you want to be a queen, you need to start by studying the principles of rulership.
─ Huh? What do you mean by that...?
─ I’m saying I’ll accept the job.
Ludger had stood, brushing the snow from his coat.
As the small campfire flickered between them, Yekaterina had smiled, meeting his eyes.
─ Did you just change your mind?
─ Why? Don’t want me to?
─ Of course I do. Having someone as skilled as you help me is wonderful. I was just curious if there was a reason for your change of heart.
─ I wanted to see it. The country you’ll build if you become queen.
Ludger had smiled faintly, and Yekaterina had returned the smile.
─ So, what’s your name?
Ludger’s expression had twisted slightly.
─ You didn’t even know my name before asking for my help?
─ Does it matter? Your ability is what’s important.
─ Not wrong, but...
─ Still, since we’ll be fighting together, I should at least know your name. And I’m curious about that “principles of rulership” you mentioned.
─ Machiavelli.
Picking up his rifle, Ludger had stepped out into the howling snowstorm.
─ Call me Machiavelli.
That meeting had become the turning point that changed the fate of a nation.
* * *
Remembering that day, Ludger couldn’t suppress a small, ironic smile.
‘I lectured her so much about being a proper ruler, and yet she hasn’t changed a bit.’
But that was fine.
If she had changed, he would’ve been disappointed.
It was reassuring to see she was doing well, even after he left.
Those twin attendants of hers still seemed to argue all the time, too.
‘Maybe I should’ve said a proper goodbye.’
But it was too late for that.
He had faked his death and disappeared during the war.
If they ever learned he was alive, they wouldn’t feel joy—they’d feel betrayed and confused.
Better to live as if they’d never known each other.
“Let’s get some rest. We have to move early tomorrow.”
Ludger lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes.
Within moments, his breathing steadied, and he was fast asleep.
Arfa thought to himself, recalling something Hans had said once.
They say trained people can fall asleep in five seconds and wake up perfectly refreshed after just two hours...
‘But isn’t that usually only knights?’
Curious as he was, Arfa knew Ludger wouldn’t answer—he was already fast asleep.
With a small sigh, Arfa lay down on his bed.
Tomorrow was the day of [Mystic Night].