Chapter 1
(At last… the time has come…!)
A white sheet of paper was held out before her.
The moment she looked at the signature line on the right edge, she swallowed hard.
There, already written before hers, was the name of the man who would become her husband.
(His handwriting is unexpectedly delicate… and beautiful…)
Even though this was hardly the time for such thoughts, that was what she absentmindedly murmured to herself.
Once she signed the contract, her role would be over.
She had lived a life in which she had accomplished nothing—
but if she could protect her still-young, sweet, and brilliant little brother, then she would have no regrets.
Even if the rest of her life meant living in hell, as though being burned by flames.
(Hot…!)
She opened her eyes, struggling to breathe, only to find herself surrounded by a sea of fire.
The flames, spreading crimson like blood, roared loudly as they burned, encircling her as if they had a will of their own.
(It’s like the flames are angry at me…)
While she thought hazily to herself, she realized the fire had already reached her feet.
The suffocating heat intensified all at once, and her eyes blurred with tears.
(Ah… I’m going to die…)
The strength drained from her body.
She could no longer tell whether she was standing or had already fallen.
“……!
……! Be—!”
(…?)
“Bel…!
Bertina!!”
(Someone… is calling me.)
It was a man’s voice she had never heard before.
And yet, the desperate urgency in the way he called out to her made her cheeks soften before she knew it.
To think someone would try so hard—for her…
Even in a situation like this, it made her a little happy.
(It’s a voice I don’t know… how strange…)
“...tina! Bertina!”
A familiar voice—nothing like the one from before—snapped Bertina back to herself.
“I’m sorry… Uncle.”
The words came out reflexively, but no matter what she did, a dark note crept into her voice.
The Crosswell ducal house, which governed the power of ice.
A tenacious family that had taken root in the northern lands, flourished in territory once said to be barren, and fought its way into the ranks of the Four Great Ducal Houses.
She already knew what kind of expression the family head was directing at her without even having to look.
His deep blue eyes, like the bottom of the sea.
His brows of the same color were surely drawn together in a glare.
When she lifted her head, her uncle was indeed looking at her with obvious displeasure.
“Do not zone out while we are discussing important matters.”
At his words, Bertina barely managed to stop herself from letting out a derisive laugh.
(Important matters? You’ve just been making excuses this whole time for how things ended up like this…!)
Suppressing the urge to shout, she argued back only in her head. At the same time, scenes from the past rose to the surface of her memory.
“It seems the Duke has agreed with Lord Miles’s proposal.”
“Don’t tell me—they’re starting a territorial war at a time like this!?
And against that clan of flames, no less…!”
That was when her maid, Sasha, informed her that they were starting a reckless war with no chance of victory.
Even if it had been his son’s recommendation, how could the Duke go along with such a foolish proposal?
To think this was supposed to be one of the Four Great Ducal Houses—it was laughable.
Back then too, her body had trembled with anger and anxiety…
But when the result of that reckless territorial war was delivered to her, it was nothing compared to this.
“They’ve brazenly demanded that we hand over proof of a ceasefire.”
“...Proof of a ceasefire?”
Though she cast a contemptuous look at the Duke as he spoke as if he were the victim, Bertina forced herself to ask the question in an even voice.
“That’s right. They said to marry off the Ice Snowflower.”
At that moment, Bertina understood everything.
The Flame ducal house was furious—more furious than ever before—at the Crosswell family for launching a territorial war with such one-sided, underhanded tactics.
So as proof of Flame’s victory, and as the condition for a ceasefire, they demanded Snowflower…
In other words, they wanted an ice maiden sent as a hostage bride.
There were two young women in the Ice ducal house.
One was Bertina.
The other was Larissa, the Duke’s daughter and Bertina’s cousin.
“Father, no! Larissa cannot possibly go to a bunch of savages like that!”
Larissa cried out in a deliberately shrill voice.
She had the same hair color and eyes as her father.
She looked like a doll, but on the inside she was a typical spoiled noble girl—impatient, cruel, and fond of tormenting others.
“And besides, the commander of the knights I’d be marrying into is said to have a fixation on red things… not satisfied with fire alone, they say he even likes the sight of blood.”
It was a famous rumor: when he came to the battlefield, it was dyed red more by blood than by flame.
“And another thing,” Larissa continued. “Fire and ice are the worst possible match, aren’t they? We’re weak in hot climates…”
Once she had said that much, Larissa drew in a breath, as though what came next was too terrible even to say aloud, and made a show of wiping away tears.
“And to begin with… don’t they say that people of fire and ice bloodlines can’t even have children together…?”
As though delivering her finishing blow, the spoiled young lady tossed her hair wildly, rose from her chair at last, and faced the Duke.
“I cannot marry into a place like that—a nest of demons!”
“Do not worry,” said the Duke. “There is no way I would send my precious daughter to those people… much less to a mere knight who doesn’t even hold a title.”
“Father… b-but then, the terms of the ceasefire—!”
“How thoughtful of you to be concerned for our ducal house, Larissa. You are such a kind girl.”
(What exactly am I being made to watch here…?) Bertina muttered inwardly.
It was like watching a cheap performance put on by a failing theater troupe.
Miles, her cousin—the one who had set all this in motion, this political marriage in name and this humiliating hostage marriage in reality—sat there in complete silence, pretending he heard nothing.
(Thank goodness my little brother Vitally isn’t here. He might have fainted from the shock…)
After all, it was painfully obvious what would be said next.
“But Larissa, there is no need for you to worry.
There is another Snowflower in this ducal house, is there not?”
(There it is. Just as I thought.)
“Oh, that’s right, Father.”
Blue eyes turned toward her.
The two of them, who had been acting out that pathetic little play, apparently had no intention of hiding their true feelings. Their lips curved into smiles.
(They really are alike. The worst kind of parent and child. To call me a member of the ducal house only at times like this… how disgusting.)
And yet it was also true that Bertina was in no position to defy the Duke’s wretched decision.
As if forcing herself to accept that reality, Bertina lowered her eyes.
“Bertina, you are to marry the Flame Knight.”
She barely remembered what happened after that.
Recalling that rotten incident from a few days ago, Bertina looked once more at the Duke before her.
He probably still could not bring himself to admit honestly that they had lost the territorial war.
The moment he ran into Bertina, who had been preparing for the marriage, he started saying things like we were not truly defeated, and you should be grateful that even against some barbaric southern knight, you still get to marry.
They were excuses so pathetic they were painful to listen to.
Honestly, it was no wonder her mind had drifted.
“I’m sorry. I felt a little dizzy… And I still have preparations for tomorrow, so may I be excused now?”
“...Go, then. Quickly.”
Even though he had been the one who stopped her and kept talking at her one-sidedly, the Duke waved his hand dismissively, as though brushing away something bothersome.
Still, that was better than having him fly into a rage and drag this idiotic conversation out even longer.
(How unusual. He didn’t yell at me.
Well… if I collapsed here and now, that would be troublesome for him.)
With that self-mocking thought, Bertina left the Duke’s study.
Back in her room, Bertina let out a breath as if trying to release the tension from her body.
(…So now I’m finally seeing that nightmare even when I’m awake…)
Her gaze naturally drifted toward the bed.
Before, it had only come to her at night in her sleep.
(From now on… am I going to start seeing daytime visions like that too?)
Sighing deeply, she turned to look into the mirror.
The Bertina reflected there, of course, was not burning, nor was she marked by any burns.
The nightmare was far too vivid to dismiss as merely a dream—so painful and suffocating it left her drenched in sweat from head to toe.
How much longer would she have to endure seeing it?
(Maybe I’ll keep seeing it right up until the day I’m actually burned by those flames…)
Letting out another resigned sigh, she looked again at her reflection.
The Crosswell family crest used blue, light blue, and white.
Bertina’s appearance, too, looked so entirely made up of those three colors that anyone could tell at a glance she belonged to the Crosswell house.
Skin as pale as white itself.
Light blue hair falling to her waist in soft waves.
A brilliant blue jewel at her chest, like a sapphire, and eyes of the same color that rivaled even that necklace’s shine.
People had always told her she looked like a snowflake.
She thought so too.
She had never particularly liked how much her appearance embodied the family crest, but there was no point complaining about it now.
If she were burned by flames like that…
(Forget burns… I might melt like real snow and disappear without a trace.)
Thinking that, she closed her eyes and recalled the dream from earlier.
“Bel…! Bertina!!”
Again.
She remembered that someone had been calling her, and yet she could not remember the voice itself.
(At this rate, I probably wouldn’t even recognize it if I met him in real life…)
That disappointed her a little.
But…
(If I’m going to die anyway… it won’t make any difference whether I know or not.)
She stopped herself there and shook her head sharply from side to side, as though rejecting the thought.
(No. I can’t let myself get weak…!)
There had to be a reason she kept having the same nightmare over and over.
Without realizing it, her hand reached up and tightly gripped the blue jewel at her chest.
(Even if I’m going to die, I absolutely do not want to burn to death…!
At the very least, I want to change the cause of death…!!)
With that somewhat questionable attempt to motivate herself—neither exactly pessimistic nor optimistic—she nodded to herself.
At that moment, someone knocked on the door.
Before Bertina could answer, “Come in,” the door flew open, and a boy with the same hair color as hers threw himself into her chest.
“Sister!”
Bertina Crosswell
A noble lady of the Ice Ducal House who has been married off to the captain of the Flame Knights. She is frequently tormented by nightmares of her own death.
Felix Grandier
The head butler of the Grandier family. Serious and reliable, he supports Theodore despite his young age.
Theodore Iglesias
Commander of the Sacred Flame Knights, serving the fire-aligned Willpole Ducal House. His prowess in battle has given rise to many rumors.
Hector
A knight of the order and Theodore’s right-hand man. Though he appears frivolous, he remains calm and composed on the battlefield.
