Doubts and the Refrigerator
Lie. Sizzle.
The burning candle wick broke the silence in the quiet room.
“……”
When he opened his eyes, the first sensation Arvin felt was an unfamiliar warmth.
Not the cold stone floor, not the stench of rotten straw.
Puzzled, Arvin tried to sit up.
“Ugh…”
But the muscle pain crushing his entire body drew a short groan from him as he collapsed back onto the bed.
I'm… alive.
As his blurry vision gradually sharpened, a rough but tidy ceiling came into view.
Where… is this?
Arvin rummaged through his memories.
The battle. Yes, there had been a battle.
The orcs' screams, the troll, and… the liege.
“Are you awake?”
A calm voice came from somewhere.
Arvin laboriously turned his head.
Sitting cross-legged in a worn armchair by the window was the liege, Evelyn.
“Want some water?”
Without waiting for an answer, she rose from her seat, picked up the pitcher on the side table, and poured water into a cup.
Then she approached the bedside and propped up Arvin's upper body.
Gulp, gulp.
The sound of water sliding down his parched throat echoed.
He drained the first cup in one go, and she silently refilled it and held it out again.
Only after emptying the second cup did he look at Evelyn and ask,
“How long… have I slept?”
Oh, now he's using formal speech.
“A full two days.”
“…Two days.”
“I thought you were dead. Your breathing was so faint, I must've checked under your nose a dozen times.”
Evelyn said as she set down the empty cup.
“How's your condition?”
“…Good enough to move.”
“Liar.”
Pulling the pride card, huh.
“You're in no shape to move.”
“…”
Arvin shut his mouth, struck right in the core.
The price of overusing his aura had been brutal.
The priest's holy power had healed his torn muscles and skin, but it couldn't touch his mana core.
“I prepared porridge for you.”
“Why…”
Arvin looked at me with trembling eyes.
“Why go this far?”
“……”
“I'm a prisoner. No one would bat an eye if you used me up and tossed me aside. You could kill me anytime, and no one would say a word. So why waste precious medicine, give me a room, stay by my side?”
His face was etched with torment over this incomprehensible kindness.
Evelyn clicked her tongue inwardly at the sight.
“I already answered that.”
Pretending nonchalance, she replied in a dry tone and picked up the tray from the side table.
On it sat a bowl of steaming thin soup and a vial of medicine.
“Dinner time.”
“…”
“Eat up.”
“That's why I…!”
“You're dumber than I thought, Sir Arvin.”
She stirred the soup with a spoon as she spoke.
“Sir Arvin. You're a prisoner, sure. Yes, that's right.”
“…”
“You said it yourself, didn't you? No one can complain however I use you or break you.”
“…Yes.”
“So I'm fixing you up.”
Evelyn brought the spoon to his lips.
Arvin clamped his mouth shut and stared at her.
His eyes swirled with confusion he couldn't comprehend, suspicion and disgust at noble hypocrisy.
But she didn't care.
“Sir Arvin. Your mana core's a mess right now, isn't it?”
“…!”
“Can't even circulate properly. If you keep stubborn like this and turn into a cripple, you might really become useless. What do you think I'd do with a you who can't protect me?”
“Toss me…”
“You know it. So open up.”
She pushed the spoon again.
Arvin bit his lip, then slowly parted his mouth.
She fed him.
As the warm liquid slid down his throat, his rigid expression softened just a fraction.
Appetite was unavoidable, after all.
Even a Swordmaster can't fight hunger.
Evelyn silently kept spooning until the bowl was empty.
“Now the medicine.”
“…”
Arvin didn't protest anymore.
He meekly opened his mouth for the bitter medicine, looking almost like a tame puppy.
After the meds, she gathered the empty bowl and stood.
“Rest well. Ally will bring clothes for you to change into.”
“And you?”
It was just as she turned to leave.
Arvin's hoarse voice caught her ankle.
“What… do you really want?”
“I told you. I want you to protect me.”
“Liar.”
Arvin gripped the bedsheet tightly.
“Just for that… you expect me to believe you'd treat a broken prisoner like this?”
He still couldn't believe it.
Which was understandable.
Nobles in this world treated prisoners worse than beasts.
Especially the rumors about Varmark Territory—they were vicious.
Evelyn answered flatly without turning back.
“Don't believe me if you don't want to.”
Creak.
The door closed, leaving only silence in the room.
Arvin stared blankly at the shut door.
**
Evelyn headed straight for her office after leaving the room.
Thud. Thud.
With each step down the corridor, chill crept up from the soles of her feet.
“Ugh, cold.”
Her body hunched instinctively.
Even layered in thick fur robes, the northern bite slipped through the fabric, slicing into her skin.
That was when.
“Oh my god, it's the liege…!”
Passing servants startled, making way and buzzing.
“Ah… so blindingly beautiful today too.” “How is she so stately, like an ice sculpture.”
…I can hear every word.
Three years in, she still had zero tolerance for this cringey praise.
Being adored for her looks by the staff.
Well, fair enough.
In the original story, despite all her villainy, everyone mourned her death.
…Even I can't get used to seeing myself in the mirror.
“Achoo, cold.”
She frowned at the rush of cold air upon opening the office door.
The fireplace blazed, but it was woefully inadequate for the vast room.
“Ally.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Add more logs. I'll freeze to death like this.”
“It's already packed full. Any more and the chimney might clog.”
Ally replied with a troubled look.
Evelyn sighed and sat at the desk.
Piled on it were spoils from the battle.
Orcs' crude weapons, troll hide, and…
“Ice Crystal Stone.”
She picked up a fist-sized bluish rock.
Mana stones mined from the northern mines of the territory, and one found near the troll's heart.
A prickling chill flowed into her palm the moment she touched it.
“Eek, cold.”
She hastily set down the Ice Crystal Stone.
This damn north—even its mana stones took after the land, bearing ice attributes.
Normal mana stones were pure energy sources brimming with magic power.
Capital nobles used them to light streets like daylight, even power carriages.
But this was the north.
A frozen wasteland.
Its mana stones held not pure mana, but vicious cold.
“Try using this for heating, and I'd turn the territory folk into sashimi.”
She propped her chin and glared at the stone.
Her goal was clear: solve this hellish cold.
Bring the lazy comforts of modern civilization to this barren land.
Hot water gushing endlessly, strolling in short sleeves—central heating.
But the biggest hurdle was.
“No magic engineers.”
No technology.
Money couldn't buy one; magic engineers were a capital rarity.
None would trek to this remote fringe willingly.
So, one option left.
“Guess I'll do it myself.”
With a resigned sigh, she pulled over the stack of books on one side of the desk.
Basics of Mana. Intro to Elemental Studies. Ancient Rune Interpretation.
Tattered tomes scavenged from the castle library.
She took a quill and unrolled parchment.
Then began dredging up modern knowledge from her head.
Thermodynamics? Conservation of energy?
Fine, whatever.
But this cursed fantasy world layered mana laws atop physics.
“Damn it, to generate heat you need to burn energy, but this thing spews cold when releasing energy…”
She clawed her hair, staring at the complex, mysterious blueprint scribbled on the parchment.
She'd mimicked a modern boiler piping from memory, but the power source was the issue.
Run a boiler on a cold-spewing rock?
Like dousing a fire with ice.
“My lady, how about some tea?”
Ally offered a steaming cup.
“Thanks.”
A sip thawed her frozen brain a bit.
Evelyn set down the cup and picked up the Ice Crystal Stone again.
Let's think. Can't eliminate the cold? Then… contain it?
No, containing it wouldn't create heat.
What about using the cold in reverse to generate heat, like a heat pump?
“As if.”
She didn't even know the blueprint; no way she could build it.
All she had were mana stones and crude metals.
“Metals…”
She rummaged in a desk drawer and pulled out a lump of dark iron.
Han Iron, the north's specialty.
Far harder and heavier than regular iron, with insane mana conductivity.
But its fatal flaw: extreme thermal retention.
Once cold, it stayed cold forever; once hot, it stayed hot.
Blacksmiths avoided it for weapons due to hellish smelting difficulty.
“Wait a sec.”
How had she overlooked this?
Evelyn placed the Ice Crystal Stone atop the Han Iron.
That instant.
Hummm—
A faint vibration rose where they touched.
And the Han Iron's surface turned icy blue in a flash.
Sizzle—
Moisture in the air frosted over the Han Iron instantly.
“Huh?”
Her eyes widened.
“This…”
The water in the cup on the desk froze solid.
Hold on.
A thought flashed through her mind.
With this level of chill.
This retention power.
“Used right…”
She could make a killing.
Northern exclusives for trade existed, for sure.
But preservation had always hobbled trade.
Ingredients spoiled en route south to north; northern goods rotted heading south.
Rare herbs from northern snowfields, monster trophies.
Money-makers abounded.
But distance and time ruined them—southbound hauls turned to stinking rot mid-journey.
And vice versa.
Worsening the north's food shortages.
But with a Han Iron freezer?
She could ship ingredients fresh indefinitely.
And that's not all.
The sweltering south in summer.
Southern nobles flung open coffers for ice in peak heat.
Sell them fridges down south?
“Ha, haha!”
Laughter burst out.
From absurdity. From sheer genius.
Shed tried for a heater to live warmly; ended up with a mega-fridge.
“For now, maybe start with a refrigerator over a carriage.”