"Did You... Just Confess?"
The director's announcement for Round One was straightforward.
"Travel to your partner's homeland with the princess! Spend a few days together and build a bond. Every single moment—will be broadcast live across the empire!"
In plain terms, it meant dragging the girl who clearly wanted to run away back to her own country and sticking to her side for several days.
The problem started from the very beginning.
Before even climbing into the carriage, Esran had already gone deathly pale the moment she heard we'd be sharing the same compartment.
"...It's fine. I won't hurt you."
I'd meant it as reassurance. But thanks to my passive, it came out sounding like something you'd say to livestock being dragged to the slaughterhouse.
Esran pressed herself into the corner of the carriage and began trembling faintly.
The carriage rolled forward. Through the window, the procession of other couples split off in different directions. The Eastern Grand Duke headed toward a prosperous nation paved in gold. The Southern Admiral made for a wealthy port city across the sea. And we—were bound for the empire's farthest edge, a remote borderland you'd have to scour the map to even find.
Beneath the crystal ball, glowing text began to flow.
Esran, sitting across from me, never once met my eyes the entire way. She simply clutched her knees tightly, shrinking smaller and smaller.
...This is bad. At this rate, she'll pass out before I even get a chance to win her over.
The inside of the carriage was so quiet you could hear every breath. The wheels clattered whenever they hit a stone, and each time Esran would press herself another inch toward the wall. There wasn't even any space left to press into.
I curled myself up as small as possible. Though how small could a big man really make himself in such a cramped space?
"...It's a long journey. If you're uncomfortable, just say so."
I'd thrown the words out hoping to fill the silence somehow. But the moment they left my mouth, Esran's head dropped like a stone.
"Y-yes... I-I will keep it in mind, Your Highness."
Keep what in mind? She probably didn't even know herself. She'd simply gone pale at the mere sound of my voice.
Silence again. This one stretched even longer than before. Outside the window, dry fields, barren trees, and the occasional crow drifted past. I pretended to watch the scenery while stealing glances at Esran from the corner of my eye. She was gripping the hem of her skirt so tightly her fingertips had turned white. It looked like she was even trying to silence her own breathing.
...This wouldn't do.
Win her heart? At this rate, the girl would collapse from sheer terror before any feelings could develop.
"...Hold on. I'm going to get some air."
When I stood, Esran flinched and hunched her shoulders again. Just from me getting up.
...Come on, I'm giving you space so you can breathe easier, you idiot.
I couldn't say it out loud, so I simply opened the door. A gust of cold wind rushed in. From behind me, I thought I heard Esran let out the tiniest sigh of relief.
Sigh. Fine. I'll just sit up front with the driver.
The driver's seat was actually better than being inside. Open sky, biting wind. At least here, no one was trembling in fear of me.
I pulled my hood down low and sat. The driver gave me a quick sideways glance. Understandable— a large man with his face hidden had just climbed up beside him. But this driver seemed less fearful and more chatty.
"...Sir, why've you come out here instead of staying inside?"
"The person inside seemed a bit uncomfortable."
"Ah, I see. Well, that makes sense."
He let out a short laugh and turned his gaze forward again. For a while, only the sound of wheels and hooves filled the air. But the man clearly couldn't stand silence for long.
"This road, sir, is absolutely brutal in winter. The ground freezes solid, and if a wheel gets stuck, you lose half a day just trying to get it out."
"...Is that so."
"It really is. Last year an axle broke right around here, and our old horse had to—"
The driver rattled on about his old horse, his son, his wife's nagging—stories I hadn't asked for. I didn't have much to say in return, so I just nodded occasionally. Strangely enough, I didn't mind it.
"You're a man of few words, sir. But that's fine too. Someone has to listen for the talking to be any fun. Heh heh."
Then the driver lowered his voice slightly.
"But sir. I heard the Northern Grand Duke is participating in this Marriage Festival too. Have you heard?"
"...I have."
"Oh man, just hearing about that guy gives me chills. They call him 'Blood Winter,' you know? Blood Winter. They say he throws people into an icy river and sits there drinking tea while he waits for their screams to die out completely."
The driver exaggerated a shudder.
"People like us would piss ourselves just seeing his shadow. We can't even look him in the eye."
I stayed quiet for a moment. The very man in question had been sitting right next to him, listening to stories about his old horse.
"But you, sir..."
The driver chuckled again.
"You don't seem scared at all. Can't see your face with that hood, but talking to you feels easy. You seem like a good person."
I figured I could just listen to this guy's chatter all the way there. That was when the carriage hit a deep rut and bounced hard. The wind suddenly flipped my hood back. Silver hair spilled out, and my ash-gray eyes were exposed.
The driver glanced over casually. And then—he froze solid.
"...N-N-Northern, Gr-Grand—"
"...Yeah. Sorry. Don't mind me, just keep talking."
But the driver's mouth no longer belonged to him.
"F-forgive me! This lowly one's worthless mouth dared to—! I have committed a crime worthy of death, Your Highness!"
The same mouth that had been bragging about his old horse moments ago now trembled like a leaf. His hands gripping the reins turned bone-white, making the carriage sway.
"...It's fine. Calm down."
Even the words meant to soothe him came out cold and threatening thanks to my passive. The driver looked like he was about to cry.
...Dude. You were chatting so comfortably just now.
I stayed exactly as I was. Hood on or off, it made no difference. The only thing that had changed was that he'd seen my face. And that one look had completely shattered the easy atmosphere from before.
After that, the driver didn't open his mouth once until we arrived. No matter what I said, he only answered with terrified "Y-yes! Yes!" so I eventually gave up and stayed silent too. I'd finally found someone to talk to after so long. And just like that, I was alone again.
In that awkward silence, the carriage slowly crested the final hill. And then—Esran's homeland unfolded before us.
...Huh?
I lost my words for a moment. What lay beyond the hill wasn't so much a country as the ruins of one. The castle walls were crumbling in places, left to rot, with a single faded flag fluttering weakly above them. The village below was even worse. The square that must have once held a market was now lined with nothing but closed shops. Shutters hung crooked, stalls sat covered in dust. The few people visible were all painfully thin, and when they saw our carriage—they didn't look happy. Instead, they hid behind doors. To these people, the arrival of a broadcast carriage wasn't a spectacle. It was a source of dread: What trouble is coming now?
...How did a country end up like this?
Even with eyes sharpened by nine years of corporate life, this wasn't just "failing." It had that distinct stagnant air of a place where money had stopped flowing entirely.
The carriage slowed as it entered the village. From the driver's seat, I glanced back inside. I could see Esran's face as she pressed against the window, staring at her homeland. She'd been trembling because of me earlier—but this was different. What lay on her face wasn't fear. It was shame. A princess from a borderland so insignificant it barely appeared on maps. A princess clearly sent as nothing more than filler. And now that princess was forced to expose the utter ruin of her homeland in front of the entire empire.
"...It is a humble place."
Esran spoke first for the first time. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"It is not a place worthy of Your Highness's presence. Please... just endure it for a few days."
Endure it. Her own country. Those words lingered in my mind strangely long.
Beneath the crystal ball, glowing text flowed as expected.
It was probably a mercy that Esran couldn't see those messages.
On the path leading to the castle, an old woman had set up a small stall and was sitting there. Every other shop was closed, yet this one stubbornly held its place. On the stall lay neatly folded hand-woven fabrics.
"...What is that stall?"
The driver flinched, then answered in a stammer.
"Y-yes! Yes, Your Highness. Th-that is fabric from this country... It was once their pride. They say it's been woven for generations to keep people from freezing to death in this cold borderland."
"...Then why is everything else closed?"
"Wh-who would even know about goods from a place like this? No matter how good it is... if it has no name, it's as good as nothing."
If it has no name, it's as good as nothing.
...I'd heard that line somewhere before.
When I stepped down from the carriage, a knife-like wind blew. After sitting exposed to the wind for so long up front, my body felt chilled to the bone. The old woman hesitated, then carefully held out a single piece of fabric. Her hands were shaking. She must have thought it was too bold to offer something to such a terrifying customer.
"F-for such an honored guest... it's humble, but... you looked cold."
You looked cold. The words felt strangely familiar.
Without thinking much of it, I took the fabric and draped it over my shoulders. It was warm. The cloth this old border woman had woven her whole life was genuinely— incredibly warm.
"...Not bad. This."
I'd only put it on because I was cold, but as I ran my fingers over the fabric, I suddenly stopped. This texture. This weave. I'd seen it in the original novel. I knew exactly how this insignificant border fabric would later be processed. I knew what it would become the moment its true use was discovered. Right now it was cheap cloth that only kept out the cold—but in the original story, it would eventually fall into the Crown Prince's hands and sweep across the entire empire.
...But there's no reason it has to go to the Crown Prince, is there?
My mind spun quickly. If it was going to become valuable anyway, it would be better if I secured it first. I'd be snatching it right out from under the Crown Prince, and at practically nothing.
I turned to the old woman.
"This. Could you supply it to the North?"
The area around the stall fell silent in an instant. The old woman's hands stopped. Even Esran, watching from inside the carriage, widened her eyes for the first time.
"...Pardon?"
"The North will buy it. Steadily. The entire output."
The old woman stared at me blankly. She looked like she couldn't understand what I was saying. I ran my fingers over the fabric once more and named my price.
"Five gold coins per roll. Whatever you produce, the North will take it all."
To me, it was simply a fair price. Knowing what it would be worth later, I was actually offering a bargain. But.
The old woman actually dropped the fabric she was holding.
"F-five... gold coins? Per roll?"
It was fabric that had never sold for more than a few coppers in her entire life. Inside the carriage, color flooded back into Esran's face, which had been deathly pale.
...Huh? Why are they reacting like that?
I'd offered a fair price. But to the people of this country, it must have looked like the terrifying Blood Winter had personally come to their doorstep, offering a fortune for fabric no one else would even glance at.
Beneath the crystal ball, the glowing text went into overdrive.
...No. I'm just doing this because it's a good business deal.
With trembling hands, the old woman picked up the fallen fabric and clutched it to her chest. Moisture welled up in her wrinkled eyes. And inside the carriage—Esran was looking at me. For the first time since we'd met. Without trembling.