A few days before the Snowfield Festival arrived, the snow kept falling without end. Forget heading back to the Central Hub early or sightseeing anywhere else—not even a quick walk through Wembuni’s city center was feasible. It was early spring, the third month, yet the skies raged with blizzards, as if warming up for the war ahead.
A warm-up, indeed!
With nowhere else to go during this time, Sang spent nearly every day holed up in the mansion. He would occasionally read in the library or head next door to practice swordsmanship at the Knight Order’s camp.
Orcus Hill’s injuries had already healed more than halfway. Snow Hill continued venturing out each day, slaying as many werewolves as she could to thin the enemy numbers ahead of the great battle. Hesos Hill, meanwhile, focused on preparations for the war.
Thea Hill, on the other hand, acted like the head of the arts department, overseeing the entire Snowfield Festival from start to finish. Aisha Hodhua had latched onto her like glue, and the two girls spent their days inseparable, having the time of their lives.
Whenever Sang showed up at the Knight Order camp with the pygmy pheasant perched on his head, Helen and Ulysses greeted him with immediate enthusiasm. To the young man’s surprise, Ulysses turned out to be human—a youth from Wembuni’s slums, no less. And yet, this human was best friends with the noble-born Helen.
After living in this other world for so long, this was the first time Sang had ever seen a member of the Blood Race and a human acting like brothers.
The pair even quietly asked Sang to teach them Snow’s swordsmanship. Sang was always happy to oblige, but no matter what they tried, neither could grasp it.
Really strange…
Snow’s swordsmanship felt only moderately difficult to him. So why did it seem impossibly hard for everyone else?
Just then, Ulysses spoke up. “Mr. Sang, we have a question we’re dying to know the answer to…”
At his words, Sang and the pygmy pheasant atop his head both turned to stare at Ulysses. Sang took a bite of his apple. “Mm… what’s on your mind?”
“Are you… the vice captain’s personal knight?”
Sang froze in place.
On second thought, Orcus’s brush with death was classified information, which naturally extended to Sang’s own background. Even members of the Rose Knight Order were in the dark. Ever since Sang had fought Mondo to a draw using Snow’s swordsmanship, everyone had been buzzing with speculation about his identity. The leading theory? That he was Snow Hill’s exclusive knight.
After all… he wielded that person’s swordsmanship.
Besides, Snow Hill had a reputation for eccentricity. Other nobles would never appoint a human as their personal knight—but she just might.
For some reason, as the question hung in the air, that person’s silhouette flickered through Sang’s mind. A faint stirring stirred deep in his heart. He found himself contemplating an intriguing hypothetical: setting aside his status as a True Ancestor blood servant, if the opportunity to become her exclusive knight were laid before him, what would he choose?
He had no idea…
Couldn’t figure it out…
…
A few days later, the Snowfield Festival arrived on schedule.
Strictly speaking, the Snowfield Festival wasn’t a traditional holiday like Christmas. It was more of an event without a fixed date, set at the discretion of the lords in the Northern Region. Even so, it remained the North’s most important annual celebration.
What did it involve, exactly?
Cities across the region erected temporary stages in their central squares, complete with massive bonfires that blazed brightly amid the festivities. The main streets overflowed with free food supplied by the lord—delicacies of every kind—while colorful lights illuminated the night. People ate, drank, danced, and reveled until dawn.
Snowfield Festivals in past years had been massive affairs. This one seemed destined to be smaller.
War between the werewolves and the Hill Family loomed, after all, and resources were stretched thin.
Sang remembered similar summer festivals back in Kaen Town. He, Luna, and Adolf had always had a blast on those nights, until Sister Lilian came to round up the three rambunctious kids and drag them home.
Looking back, it really was nostalgic.
As lords of Wembuni, the Hill Family was swamped that day—especially Thea Hill. She might have looked like just a young girl, but she handled the logistics with impressive ease.
“Somewhat unexpected,” Sang teased.
Thea Hill grinned. “I’m not like my brother and sister. I don’t have much power, so I can only pitch in on these boring tasks.”
She meant every word.
Snow Hill was perpetually out on missions—pilgrimages to the Central, escorting Sang back from there, and so on. Hesos Hill commanded the Rose Knight Order. This little girl, by contrast, truly seemed like the family’s gofer.
“You’re not having it easy yourself,” Sang remarked with a sigh.
He wasn’t talking about the festival preparations. He meant growing up in that household, forever in the shadow of her brilliant siblings… Being so ordinary couldn’t have been simple.
“It’s fine, not too tough… Besides, this year’s Snowfield Festival doubles as a send-off for the troops, so every detail counts. Sorry, I must have rambled,” Thea Hill replied. She had missed his subtext entirely, assuming he referred to the workload.
Sang didn’t press the point. Instead, he flashed her a thumbs-up. “You’ve got this. I’m rooting for you~!”
“Mr. Sang, you really are an interesting human.”
“Let me sneak in a little diss~”
“Diss?”
“It means complain.”
“Oh? So what are you complaining about?” Thea Hill was the picture of a girl-next-door, endlessly fascinated by Sang’s quirky modern slang. She even parroted it back at him.
“I’m not the interesting one. It’s your family that’s too dull.”
Dull—aimed squarely at Snow Hill and her millennial ice-mountain demeanor.
Thea Hill clapped a hand over her mouth, giggling softly. Honestly, without her noble training, she would have doubled over laughing.
“Hee hee hee. Can’t chat more—it’s past one in the afternoon, and the festival kicks off at four. I’ve got more to handle,” Thea Hill said.
“Go for it,” Sang replied.
After saying goodbye to Sang, Thea Hill turned toward the house. Halfway there, she paused and glanced back at him. He looked surprised.
Didn’t she have work to do?
“What’s wrong?” the young man asked.
Thea Hill’s bright eyes sparkled as she smiled. “I have a small favor to ask, Mr. Sang.”
“Shoot.”
“You’re heading out to the Wembuni streets for the Snowfield Festival soon, right? If it’s not too much trouble, could you take my sister along? Snow Sis might be an outstanding knight, but she’s actually kind of a homebody. Without a mission, she just holes up alone in the library.”
