"Is it really true?"
Amelia’s voice was barely above a whisper as she stepped closer, her breath misting in the cold air between us.
A faint, sweet scent drifted from her pink hair as she leaned in, eyes narrowing with quiet suspicion.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
She gave me a look that said she wasn’t buying it. "Don’t play dumb. Is it true that Alice is aiming for the dukedom?"
I paused, letting a small smile play at the corner of my lips. "Well, I believe you would know better than I do."
Her brow furrowed slightly, the corners of her lips twitching—not quite a smile, not quite irritation. She’d spent enough time studying Alice’s character to see through me. There was no way she didn’t know that what I said before—the whole "duchess" line—had been nothing but a carefully placed lie to move her father’s hand.
Amelia sighed softly, her breath curling like smoke. "I knew it. It’s my fault for getting my hopes up, even if it was just for a moment."
She glanced away, her tone light, but there was something fragile beneath it. "At least my tongue is still intact. I half-expected Father to have it cut off after your little stunt."
I chuckled. "Still," I said, lowering my voice, "’Alice Draken, the Duchess’—it does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?"
Amelia’s eyes softened despite herself. "I’ll admit that much," she said quietly. Then, after a pause, her expression dimmed, just a flicker of something wistful crossing her face. "Ah... it would’ve been nice if she’d stayed just a noblewoman of the north. Like me."
Her words hung in the air—light, but tinged with a melancholy that couldn’t quite be hidden.
I didn’t reply right away. For a moment, we just stood there in the dim light, the wind brushing past like a ghost.
And though she tried to mask it with her usual poise, I could tell—beneath that calm exterior, Amelia Frost truly envied the woman who had unknowingly captured the loyalty of them both.
After a brief moment of silence, I couldn’t help but tease her a little.
"Indeed," I said with a faint smile. "Would it be fair to call you and Lady Alice the two flowers of the North?"
Her reaction was immediate. "Wh-What are you saying!" she protested, cheeks puffing slightly. Then, after a pause, her tone shifted as if the idea had just started to grow on her. "Hmm... but now that I think about it, that’s not too bad, is it? Technically, I am in the same position as Alice!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Of course, you’re far behind when it comes to that elegant and dignified gaze of hers."
She blinked, then smirked, catching on to my playful tone. "And what about my hair that perfectly embodies the northern snow, hmm?"
I chuckled. "Exactly. The two of you together are just... perfect."
Amelia’s expression softened despite herself. She turned her face away slightly, pretending to focus on the snow falling outside.
This pink-haired girl—stubborn, quick-tempered, and always ready to argue—wasn’t one to take teasing lightly. Yet, when it came to Alice, she somehow found a way to match her in spirit.
And if Alice ever saw this side of her, I thought with amusement, she’d probably find it... endearing.
After a long stretch of praise for Alice—most of it entirely unprompted—we finally circled back to the real topic at hand.
Amelia turned her gaze away, lips pursed in a faint pout.
"Well," she muttered, almost childishly, "thanks to you, I’ve made up my mind. Now I just have to prove it—that I’m truly fit to become Countess."
I smiled faintly. "This will be your first step toward that goal. And besides," I added with a knowing look, "this whole affair could also help strengthen your relationship with Lady Alice."
"Hehe."
Her laugh was short, but the way her eyes sparkled at the mention of Alice’s name made it impossible to tell which goal she cared about more—ambition or affection.
Still, I couldn’t deny it. With her commitment, the alliance between us had grown stronger.
Amelia leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, her tone shifting into something more serious. "But how do you plan to handle this? The opponent is Velra we’re talking about."
I met her eyes. "We have to act. We can’t just stand by and watch our own people die, can we?"
Her expression hardened instantly, all traces of playfulness gone.
"It would be wiser to cut ties before this escalates," she said flatly.
The sudden coldness in her voice carried the weight of a merchant’s logic—precise, ruthless, and completely detached from emotion.
That was Amelia Frost.
Brilliant when it came to numbers, negotiations, and profit margins... but when sentiment got in the way of survival, she was quick to draw the line.
I let out a quiet sigh, brushing a bit of frost from my sleeve as I studied her face. Amelia’s tone might’ve turned cold, but her eyes—those bright, determined eyes—still carried a hint of conflict.
"You’d really abandon them?" I asked softly. "After all that talk about proving yourself as Countess?"
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. "I’m saying we have to be realistic. If Velra truly is involved, then this isn’t just a simple skirmish. It’s a death sentence for anyone who treats it like one."
"True," I admitted. "But running from it won’t make the threat disappear. It’ll just find another door to knock on—ours, eventually."
Amelia frowned, folding her arms, her pink hair brushing against the fur lining of her cloak. "You’re far too confident for someone who barely escaped the last incident alive."
I grinned. "Confidence is cheaper than hope, but more reliable."
She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You’re impossible."
"I’ve been called worse."
Her sigh turned into a faint laugh despite herself, but it quickly faded. "You really intend to fight this battle... even knowing what she is?"
Her voice dropped at the end—barely more than a whisper, almost swallowed by the cold wind outside.
"Yes," I said quietly. "Because it’s not about Velra anymore. It’s about what’s festering inside the north—something far worse."
"The Parasite," she murmured, eyes narrowing.
I nodded. "If we don’t deal with it now, it’ll spread. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even next year—but it’ll come for everyone. Even your father’s trade routes won’t escape it."
Amelia tapped her fingers against her armrest, the faint rhythm betraying her unease. "You sound like Alice when you talk like that."
"I’ll take that as a compliment."
She shot me a look that was half amusement, half exasperation. "You shouldn’t. She’s reckless."
"She’s also right more often than either of us would like to admit."
For a while, the only sound was the faint crackle of the fireplace beside us. Outside, snow drifted past the window, silent and endless.
Finally, Amelia spoke again, her voice quieter. "You know... there was a time I wanted to be like her."
That caught me off guard. "Alice?"
"Yes," she said, eyes distant. "Uncompromising. Brave. The kind of person who could walk into a storm and never flinch." A faint smile touched her lips. "But I’m not her. I don’t have that kind of faith."
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "No," I said. "You have something else."
She blinked, surprised. "And what’s that supposed to mean?"
"Pragmatism. Clarity. The ability to see what others refuse to. That’s why people like me—or even Alice—need people like you."
Amelia looked away, as if embarrassed. "...You’re too smooth for your own good."
"Occupational hazard," I said with a half-smile. "Now, will the pragmatic Lady Frost stand aside, or will she help me clean up this mess?"
Her gaze met mine again—steady, thoughtful, and sharp beneath the calm surface.
Then, finally, she exhaled.
"We only have two hundred soldiers on our side," Amelia said quietly. "The ducal family will have no less. Even if Velra is powerful... can she really handle that many alone?"
It was a reasonable question—logical, even.
To her, the deployment of so many troops to subdue a single demon must have seemed excessive, bordering on reckless.
But that was only because she didn’t truly understand what a high-ranking demon was.
Even after witnessing Velra’s power firsthand, she was still only scratching the surface.
I gave a faint, humorless smile. "I assure you, even if we win, we’ll suffer heavy losses."
Her brows furrowed slightly. "That severe?"
"Such is the nature of the leaders of demons," I said, my tone calm but firm.
In this world, the gap between the strong and the ordinary wasn’t something that could be bridged by numbers. Against beings of a certain level, even a thousand soldiers would be as helpless as dust in a storm.
It was the same as me trying to lay a hand on someone like the Duke of Draken. No matter how many men I commanded, it wouldn’t make a difference.
"In the end," I continued, glancing toward the distant horizon where the wind carried faint echoes of battle, "this will come down to a duel—Lady Alice versus Lady Velra."
"The soldiers will only form a perimeter," I added, my voice lowering. "They won’t be of much help beyond containment."
Amelia’s expression hardened. "Then why did my fiancé request military support from my family?"
Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but it wasn’t gentle either. Beneath her calm words, there was a flicker of doubt—perhaps even frustration.
She had thrown herself into helping me, gone against the rules of her own house, only to find the reinforcements she’d gathered might not change anything at all.
I could see her knuckles tighten around the reins, the faint tremor in her hand betraying the emotion she tried so hard to hide.