Chapter 1

Patter. Whoosh!

The sound of torrential rain jolted Isabelle from her haze.

The damp air clinging to her skin and the musty scent of moss told her she was in a cave. She had fallen asleep in her cozy bed—why had she woken up here? She didn’t question it.

Though it felt as vivid as reality, she knew this was a dream.

A dream she had experienced countless times before.

Waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, Isabelle counted silently.

‘One, two, three.’

A moment later, lightning struck again, painting the pitch-black sky a brilliant white. The flash was so intense it illuminated even the deepest recesses of the cave.

After several more flashes tore through the darkness, a figure appeared at the cave’s entrance, his silhouette stark against the light.

Despite the deafening thunder, the man remained motionless, gazing out at the rain.

The boundary between light and shadow was absolute. Because of this, Isabelle couldn’t see his face. She was shrouded in the cave’s impenetrable gloom, while he was bathed in the blinding glare.

All she caught in the flashes was a fleeting glimpse of his form, yet it was enough to tell he was strikingly handsome.

And…

The man’s upper body was completely bare.

‘Flash.’

Another bolt of lightning struck, and this time, Isabelle saw him clearly. She watched a single droplet of water cling to the tip of his hair before it finally fell.

The droplet landed on his chest and trickled down. Her gaze involuntarily followed its path.

He was nearly naked below the waist as well. As the water slid down in a long, glistening line and vanished into the waistband of his trousers, Isabelle swallowed hard.

As if he’d heard the sound, the man turned his head.

Every other time, she’d woken up from her dreams seeing only his back. But today, her heart pounded with the thrilling hope that something would be different. Yet, even the fleeting flashes of light came from behind him, keeping his face hidden in shadow.

The man’s lips moved as if he were speaking, but his words were drowned out by the deafening roar of thunder.

Just as the deafening noise ceased and she thought she would finally hear his voice, her vision blurred and darkness engulfed her.

‘No. Just a moment, please.’

Isabelle reached out, her face etched with panic, trying to call to him. But his figure dissolved like smoke before vanishing completely.

“Belle… Isa… My lady… Isa—”

The voice, which had been a faint, distant echo, grew clearer. Drawn by the sound, she opened her eyes. The cave, once ravaged by torrential rain and lightning, had vanished. In its place, familiar surroundings came into view.

The lace canopy, as thin as a dragonfly’s wing, shimmered in the sunlight and fluttered gently in the breeze that drifted through the open window.

“Miss Isabelle, it is time to wake up.”

As Isabelle slowly blinked her eyes, the familiar voice called to her again. It was her wet nurse.

“Oh, you’re finally awake. It will be noon soon. Were you reading all night again?”

“…Nanny, a glass of water, please…”

Isabelle leaned back against the headboard, pressing her fingertips to her throbbing temples. As the wet nurse handed her the glass of water and launched into a long lecture on the proper posture of a lady, Isabelle nodded absently, her mind already drifting elsewhere.

Including today, it was already the eighty-seventh time. Having dreamed the exact same dream eighty-seven times, she now felt a sense of emptiness whenever she didn’t have it. Each time, she woke up just before the man’s face came into view, leaving her utterly frustrated.

Whether the wet nurse came to wake her or not, the dream always ended with her seeing the man’s back.

As a result, she had never even heard his voice, let alone seen his face. Though she had seen his bare upper body a full eighty-seven times.

The first few times she woke from the dream, she had tried to forget it out of sheer fluster, but now the regret was greater. She regretted not seeing his body in more detail, from a closer distance.

Besides, unlike other days, hadn’t the man turned around today?

If her wet nurse hadn’t woken her, she could have seen the man’s face up close and even heard his voice.

The missed opportunity was truly a shame.

Isabelle swallowed a soft sigh and recalled the man from her dream. He seemed to stand on the threshold between boy and man, yet even his back exuded a strangely seductive aura. And that cave—it felt so familiar, as if she had been there before.

It wasn’t just because she had these dreams so often; it had been that way since the very first one.

As far as Isabelle could remember, she had never visited such a cave. Let alone with a man. A naked man, no less…

The memory of the man’s naked body resurfaced, sending a flush across her face and a strange tickle around her navel.

‘I must have read too many books,’ she thought. ‘My imagination is running wild.’

Or perhaps she was simply starved for affection.

If her wet nurse knew, the lecture wouldn’t just be about a lady’s proper conduct.

Isabelle’s mind had already wandered, weaving shameful fantasies around the man’s body from her dream. He was so etched into her memory that she could picture him clearly with her eyes closed.

Even in the bright daylight, her thoughts were consumed by these lewd and chaotic imaginings.

The sound of her wet nurse moving about snapped Isabelle back to reality. She fanned her burning cheeks with her hand.

‘To keep having dreams like that…’ she mused. ‘I must be craving something I’m missing.’

Seeing Isabelle sigh with a sorrowful expression, the wet nurse wondered if she had been too talkative today and decided to call it a day.

Of course, Isabelle’s sigh had nothing to do with her, but thanks to the misunderstanding, she escaped the lecture earlier than usual.

Lost in her own thoughts, Isabelle didn’t even realize why the wet nurse had stopped talking. She simply emerged from her reverie and beamed with joy, happy to be free of the situation.

“What am I to do with this immature young lady?” the wet nurse muttered to herself. Though she stopped her lecture, she didn’t forget to glare at the young lady, who still showed no intention of getting out of bed, as she tidied the books scattered across it—clearly left there from the previous night.

Isabelle longed to sink back into her cozy bed, but her wet nurse’s sharp glare forced her to rise.

‘If I could just fall back asleep, I might finally see his face…’

Curiosity about the man from her dreams gnawed at her, but keeping her wet nurse’s mouth shut was a more pressing priority. Hoping she would at least hear his voice tonight—if not see his face—Isabelle headed for the bath.

***

After washing up, Isabelle had to rush her preparations for the outing, with no time even for a meal. A message had arrived from her close friend Elena, asking to meet at Chouette.

“My lady, this is exactly why I told you to stop reading so much and go to bed early. From today on, reading at night is forbidden.”

“Oh, Nanny, are you trying to take away my only pleasure?”

Isabelle put on a deliberately exaggeratedly sorrowful expression, but it had no effect on the wet nurse who had been with her since the moment she was born.

The wet nurse began another long lecture on how “a proper lady should always,” all while meticulously inspecting the maids as they brushed Isabelle’s red hair and applied her makeup.

Recently, a new trend had taken hold in the mansion: instead of hosting tea parties, gatherings at cafes were becoming the fashion. Riding this wave, cafes were sprouting up everywhere.

The most popular of these was a café called “Chouette,” famous for its dainty and lovely desserts.

Moreover, its pink-and-white interior, adorned with handmade dolls of all sizes, instantly captivated the young ladies who adored all things cute and charming. It was so popular that securing a table required booking weeks in advance.

And yet, they were having tea at that very “Chouette.”

Isabelle had rushed to get ready the moment she received the invitation, but she still arrived a little late.

“Ellie, I’m sorry. Have you been waiting long?”

“No, I just got here myself. It’s fine, really—it’s my fault for inviting you so last minute. Besides, you’re actually quite early.”

“Late is still late. I’m sorry.”

“Judging by your eyes, you stayed up all night reading again, didn’t you?”

Elena smiled at Isabelle, who looked apologetic, as if she already knew. Though they hadn’t known each other long, they were close enough to use nicknames.

As a token of her apology, Isabelle had ordered the strawberry cake Elena loved. Even though they’d talked late into the night at the Count’s Mansion just a few days ago, their conversation never ran dry.

“Belle, what are your plans for an escort to the Victory Celebration Ball?”

“I’ll probably just go with a knight from my family’s service,” Isabelle replied with a soft sigh. She didn’t have a fiancé, nor did she even know a single young lord.

“Is the Marquis really not attending, even though it’s the Victory Celebration Ball?”

“My father hates parties. Besides, he’s not the type to leave the fief just as it’s finally starting to be restored.”

The war that had raged for years had recently ended in victory. Yet, the territory that had been at the heart of the conflict could never return to its former state. Isabelle longed to return home, but she couldn’t.

In place of her father, who could not leave the territory, she had to attend the Victory Celebration Ball as the representative of the Marquis’ family.

“Why don’t you go with Chris instead?”

Chris Everin.

He was Elena’s eldest brother and the Captain of the Imperial Knights. With his handsome face, tall stature, and sturdy build, he possessed martial skills befitting his rank. However, his rigid and cold personality made him incredibly difficult to approach. He was so frigid that he had earned the nickname “the Ice Knight,” and being near him felt as if the surrounding temperature dropped several degrees.

Isabelle gave a small, apologetic smile and shook her head at Elena, who was watching her with hopeful eyes.

“Sorry, Ellie. I don’t think that will work.”

“I figured as much. After all, even I find it hard to breathe around Chris. What about Jerome, then?”

Elena suggested another name as a fallback option, but that wasn’t a great idea either.

“If I went in with Jerome, I wouldn’t be able to breathe at all in the ballroom.”

Jerome was the complete opposite of Chris, the very embodiment of rigidity; he was incredibly free-spirited.

The number of young ladies Jerome had dated—or was currently seeing—was more than Isabelle could count on two hands. She had no intention of walking right into the middle of that silent battlefield.

Unless it was absolutely necessary, Isabelle had no intention of asking those two to escort her, even if it meant letting Elena down. Asking either of them would only cause a scene.

“Sigh. Why do my brothers have to be like this?”

“Still, I’m jealous of you,” Elena muttered, a sorrowful expression on her face as she sighed. But Isabelle, who had no siblings of her own, could only feel envious of Elena.

“Jealous? Well, if you’re so envious, you can have my brothers, Ellie.”

“Hmm, I’ll pass on that. I’m jealous that you have siblings, but your brothers are a bit much for me.”

“Fair enough,” Elena agreed, nodding as she thought of her own brothers and burst into a cheerful laugh.

Three years ago, when Isabelle first arrived at the townhouse in the Capital, she didn’t know a single soul.

Her family had served for generations as Marquises, guarding the border between the Empire and the Barbarians, and Isabelle herself had been born and raised in their northern domain.

Though the North was harsh and cold, Isabelle loved the land of her birth. She had always assumed she would never leave it.

As her father’s only child, she expected him to bring in a son-in-law to inherit his title. But the war dragged on, and her family’s domain was swept into its chaos.

After long deliberation, her father decided he could not leave his only daughter in a territory so ravaged by war.

“Go to the townhouse in the Capital until the war is over.”

“No. I want to stay here.”

“It’s too dangerous. I will assign knights to escort you. You are to leave tomorrow.”

Isabelle protested, but she had no choice but to obey her father, the Head of the Family. Thus, her departure for the Capital was suddenly decided.

Though she was the only daughter of a Marquis in the Empire, Isabelle, who had lived in the North, was oblivious to the trends of the Capital. Moreover, having had no peers of her own age even in the North, she experienced the power struggles and exclusionary behavior among the young noblewomen for the first time. The stress she endured from the unfamiliar environment and the invisible psychological warfare was immense.

Furthermore, unlike the war-torn North, the utterly peaceful life in the Capital filled her with profound guilt.

Whenever she thought of her father and the people of their territory, who were teetering between life and death in the heart of the war against the Barbarians, her heart felt as heavy as if a massive stone were pressing down on her chest.

Despite her father’s strict orders not to return until the war ended, Isabelle felt an overwhelming urge to flee back to the Northern Territory immediately.

If she hadn’t befriended Elena—whom she had met at various banquets—she might have already defied her father and fled north.

“What about the dream?”

Elena’s cheerful voice snapped Isabelle out of her reverie.

‘The dream. The dream…’

Now that the war was over, that dream had become Isabelle’s sole preoccupation and greatest concern.

“I had it again today. That makes eighty-seven times.”

“Oh my, you’re almost at a hundred! Who knows? Maybe he’ll finally show his face in the hundredth dream. Are you sure this isn’t just a scene from a novel you’ve read before?”

“No. I even went back and re-read everything I’d read before.”

She had first started having the dream shortly after arriving in the Capital. Since then, the intervals between the dreams—which had initially spanned several months at most and a few weeks at least—had gradually shortened. Now, she was having them almost every night.

She had searched several times, wondering if it was a plot from a novel as Elena suggested, but no such novel existed. Isabelle was certain she would have the same dream again when she fell asleep tonight.

“Could it be a precognitive dream, then?”

“Oh, please. As if.”

Isabelle laughed as if the idea were absurd, but Elena jokingly pressed her, saying you never know. Hearing her insist so much, Isabelle found herself starting to wonder if it truly could be.

‘If that really was a precognitive dream…’

As Isabelle habitually replayed the dream in her mind, her face flushed hot.

‘Why on earth was that man naked?’

Her mind flooded with lewd, suggestive thoughts, sending a wave of heat through her entire body.

“Belle? What’s wrong?”

Elena’s voice shattered her runaway fantasies like smoke, but the tingling sensation in her stomach lingered.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

Terrified that someone might discover the scandalous thoughts she’d been indulging in, Isabelle took a sip of her cold tea and offered an awkward smile.

She turned her gaze to the window, where noble carriages were heading toward the luxury shopping district. The street was lined with high-end boutiques specializing in the most expensive dresses and jewelry.

The entire Capital was buzzing with excitement for the upcoming Victory Celebration Ball. But Isabelle, preoccupied with deciphering the meaning of her recurring dream, merely turned her head with a dull gaze.

Elena, however, was quicker than anyone to read her thoughts.

“Belle, the dream isn’t what’s important right now.”

“Then what is?”

Elena sighed as Isabelle cut her cake, her face a picture of complete confusion.

“What else? The ball—and the Crown Prince.”

Isabelle’s expression seemed to ask: ‘I get why the ball is important, but why the Crown Prince?’

As she tilted her head in confusion, Elena continued, her voice laced with frustration.

“Why else? Is there any other reason young ladies of marriageable age would be so interested?”

“Ah…”

“Everyone is desperate to uncover even the smallest rumor about the Crown Prince. Did you hear anything from the Marquis?”

“Nothing at all. He’s been so busy that he rarely even replies to my letters.”

Isabelle shook her head slightly. Elena sighed in disappointment and muttered, “Rumors are spreading that he has a fiancée, but no one knows who she is. The Marquis is said to be closest to His Highness right now, so I thought you might have heard something. Oh, I’m sorry if my question offended you, Belle.”

“It’s all right. I wish I’d heard something from my father, though. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Isabelle gently patted Elena’s hand, as the other woman watched her with a worried expression, wondering if she had offended her.

Elena, laughing awkwardly in apology, suggested they put aside the headache-inducing rumors and brought up some light, everyday conversation instead. They lost themselves in a lively chat, and before they knew it, the sky was beginning to glow with the red hues of sunset.

After making plans for their next meeting, Isabelle boarded her carriage, which began to roll toward the townhouse.

As she watched the buildings slowly pass by outside the window, Isabelle’s eyelids grew heavy, and her amber eyes were soon hidden from view.

***

Isabelle stood atop a snow-covered hill, painted in pure white. It was a familiar landscape. In the North, where winter was long, snow was like a friend—a gentle, yet sometimes fickle companion.

Crunch, crunch.

The sound of footsteps in the snow was tiny and light, like a child’s steps.

Intrigued, she looked down and saw a pair of small, cute feet. She recalled that the red boots wrapping her little feet were something she treasured deeply in her childhood.

‘Why? Why were they so precious?’

She racked her brain, but nothing came to mind. She dismissed it, assuming it was simply because it had happened so long ago.

Scanning the ground, Isabelle noticed a glimpse of yellow peeking through the snow and squatted down. Brushing the snow away gently, a yellow flower revealed itself.

‘It’s called an Adonis…’

“Adonis…”

She spoke the flower’s name aloud, echoing the voice that naturally surfaced in her mind.

“Adonis, eternal happiness…”

The voice that swept through her thoughts like a breeze belonged to a boy whose voice had not yet broken. No matter how much she retraced her memories, there was no one she knew with that voice.

‘When had she heard it?’

It felt so familiar, yet she couldn’t place it at all.

An inexplicable wave of sadness washed over her, and tears welled in her eyes, trailing down her cheeks.

With a throbbing pain in her chest, Isabelle jolted awake.

As the pain subsided, her chest felt strangely hollow. Though it was currently summer, it felt as if the icy winter winds of the North were blowing through that empty space, leaving her heart freezing cold.