Waking Up as the Blood Winter

"Breed, you say?"

It was two in the morning. I had come home from overtime, collapsed face-first onto the bed without even washing up.

Fuck. I'm screwed.

Even knowing I had to clock in again tomorrow, my fingers were already unlocking the phone. I worked off company stress by reading other people's novels. Wasn't that a pretty wholesome hobby, all things considered?

Tonight's catch on the radar was The Sword of Ice and Snow. A solid 4.9 stars with thousands of comments—genuinely popular.

My finger stopped.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Author."

I addressed the screen with perfect politeness.

"You rewrote an entire nation's laws just to keep the male lead a virgin?"

Most setting holes got quietly papered over. This writer operated on a different scale. To invent a reason for the male lead to stay single until twenty-five, they had laid down an imperial statute across the whole empire. That was the kind of ambition ordinary people like me couldn't even dream of.

I opened the comment section out of sheer disbelief, expecting everyone else to be just as baffled.

"He didn't wait twenty-five years. The law locked him down for twenty-five years, didn't it?"

I muttered it out loud without meaning to. Not that I was in any position to judge. Hell, I'd been single for five years myself, using overtime as the excuse. At least I never blamed it on legislation.

Right…?

I kept grumbling, but the pages kept turning. Damn thing was actually fun.

"Guess popular novels are popular for a reason."

The year the seal broke at twenty-five, the empire held something called the Marriage Festival. Princesses and heavyweights from every nation gathered under the imperial roof for a matchmaking program. Broadcast live across the empire through magic crystal balls—basically this world's biggest dating show.

"The state hosts romance and streams it nationwide? This country is completely insane."

And yet something about it pulled me in. Maybe it was the overtime-rotted brain, but watching other people fall in love always felt weirdly sweet.

This year's Marriage Festival featured five major players: the Crown Prince, the Grand Duke of the East, the Grand Duke of the West, the Admiral of the South—and the Grand Duke of the North, Kariks von Nord.

The villain of the story.

In the original, Kariks announced he was a complete lunatic from the very first appearance.

The day he crushed the northern rebellion. A lord who had already surrendered knelt at his feet. Disarmed, army gone—no threat left even if you spared him. Still the lord begged, hands and feet scrambling, pleading only for his family's lives.

Kariks looked down at that face for a moment. Then he spoke quietly.

"A face that begs for mercy is truly dull."

Shhk—

The sword moved once. He killed a man who needed no killing, as if the whole thing bored him. Then he wiped the blood from the blade without even lifting his head.

"Next."

"…Wow."

The sound slipped out of me.

"He didn't even need to kill him."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

A chill ran down my own spine for no good reason.

"This guy isn't human. Straight-up monster."

That wasn't all. That same winter he stood hundreds of captured prisoners on a frozen river. Didn't even bother tying them—there was nowhere to run. The ice couldn't take the weight. Fine cracks began spidering under their feet.

A subordinate approached and requested, "Your Grace, arrows would finish it quickly."

Kariks sat in a chair on the bank and took a sip of tea.

"No need to rush. The real entertainment is only just beginning."

The prisoners' faces started to shake harder and harder. He waited until the ice broke. Screams and pleas scattered like the steam from the cup in his hand. When the river finally swallowed everything, he set down the cold cup and rose slowly.

"Now the scenery is somewhat worth looking at."

I stared at the screen in silence for a long time.

"…Shit. This thing isn't even human."

I kept flipping pages with a bitter laugh until I reached the scene where the bastard died.

It started with something almost stupidly small.

At the Marriage Festival the crystal ball matched Kariks with a princess from a minor border nation—Esran. A princess from a speck on the map, clearly sent as filler. The problem was that the Crown Prince had secretly set his eyes on her.

First meeting at the Festival. The princess stood before Kariks. Looking down at the trembling Esran, his eyes held not a single spark of warmth. Just the knowledge that the man known only by rumor as the Blood Winter stood in front of her made her legs shake.

"That trembling is irritating."

A low voice. That made it colder. The harder she tried to stop, the worse she shook. Kariks took one step closer and finished:

"If I see that face one more time, do not expect your neck to remain on your shoulders."

Esran could barely breathe. That night she packed her bags to run and was caught by the guards. The next day she had to stand before him again, face even paler than before.

That, of all things, was the Crown Prince's reverse scale. He already considered Kariks a thorn in his eye; soon an imperial order sent Kariks to the front. Officially a campaign. Anyone could see it was a death sentence.

On the battlefield he was surrounded—every direction sealed. It wasn't only enemy soldiers. Survivors from the North who had lost families to the Blood Winter, children who had buried parents in the ice river, blood relatives of the lord whose head he had casually taken—they were all there. Even faces that had stood with him at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Marriage Festival mixed into the throng.

One man who had lost his family to him shouted, eyes bloodshot:

"Do you even remember my father and brothers you threw into the ice river?!"

Kariks looked at him a moment, then answered indifferently.

"I'd need only one or two who fell in the river to remember them. …I don't know your face."

The man's expression twisted. Kariks turned his gaze away as if even that look bored him.

A princess he had once humiliated leveled a trembling sword at him.

"You… never once saw me as a person."

"A person? Was there any reason I should have seen any of you as people?"

The air went ice-cold. The Crown Prince set his sword tip against Kariks's heart.

"You know what you've done wrong."

Yet Kariks truly looked as if he had no idea.

"What exactly have I done wrong?"

He slowly scanned the ring of hateful faces, then snorted.

"Don't delude yourselves. The only reason any of you still stand here is because I never felt you were worth killing."

"What?"

"And you draw blades without even knowing that. Weakness. That is the greatest sin of all. You should be grateful I let you keep breathing after committing it."

The hands gripping swords shook violently. Kariks kept the corner of his mouth lifted to the very end.

"Well, it doesn't matter. This place will become your funeral altar soon enough."

But even the Grand Duke of the North could not withstand that overwhelming assault from every side at once.

Thud—

Thud—

Thud—

Dozens of blades sank in at the same time. The man who had spent his whole life treating people like insects collapsed without ever understanding the simple reason those same insects had gathered, teeth bared, to finish him.

"…Wow."

I couldn't even manage a hollow laugh.

"Be grateful I let you live? Of course he'd say that—he never saw people as people. That's why the whole world became his enemy. Poetic justice doesn't get more poetic than this."

I was so floored I ended up finishing the entire novel. It was four in the morning. I set the phone down. Poetic justice or not, the aftertaste was bitter.

"…This is why you don't play the villain."

I muttered it and closed my eyes.

Giggle—

Laughter burst out somewhere.

"Can you believe it? It's really been twenty-five years!"

"I didn't sleep a wink last night. I was so nervous."

"Look at that dress—they say it was tailored in the East."

Voices bright as spring sunlight poured from every direction. A pure-white marble palace soared as if piercing the sky. Golden vines wound every column; fountains on either side of the stairs threw rainbows. String music drifted through air thick with flower scent.

Thud—

I pulled the hood down deep. If they ever saw the face underneath, every one of those laughs would turn into screams. I could do without that.

Dressed like that, I walked straight through the middle of the banquet.

"Oh my."

Two young ladies passing by slowed their steps just a fraction.

"Who is that? I've never seen him."

"No idea. But look at the build—those shoulders."

"I wonder what the face under the hood looks like."

Giggles and whispers trailed after me.

Would you just leave me alone.

That night. The nine-year office worker who had collapsed onto his bed after overtime opened his eyes and found ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠silver hair and ash-gray irises. The moment his eyes opened, twenty-five years of this body's life poured in whole. Someone else's life, yet as clear as reading someone else's diary.

The owner of this body was named Kariks. Grand Duke of the North. His nickname was a little grand: Blood Winter.

I had seen him in the original. The bastard who threw people into a river and drank tea on the bank. The one who never saw friend or foe as human. The one who eventually got a swarm of the people he had crushed stabbing him full of blades—and never even understood why he was dying.

That was this body's ending.

But I was not allowed to die.

The answer was simple. If the original Kariks died because he crushed everyone, I just had to do the opposite. Make no enemies. Stay quiet. Pull the hood down deep, stay out of sight, and the second this insane festival ended, bolt back north.

Wooing, my ass.

This window that refused to vanish no matter how I waved it away was the only proof I had actually landed in this world. Points this, wooing that—I didn't care. I just needed to not die and go home.

A servant approached and bowed.

"Your Grace. Before the entrance, I shall escort you to the waiting room."

The waiting room sat one step removed from the banquet noise. When I opened the door the excited laughter faded and a cool silence took its place. And there, by the window, a small young lady sat alone. Dressed as prettily as the others, yet somehow alone.

When I entered she flinched and lifted her head. She stared at the hooded me. A glance. Another glance. I took a seat far away. I had no intention of making conversation. Just wait quietly for my turn and go in.

"Um… excuse me."

A tiny voice. I looked up; she was watching me with both hands tightly clasped.

"I don't believe we've met. So… which house are you from…?"

The end of the sentence trailed off. After asking she seemed more startled than I was and hunched her shoulders.

She spoke first.

A little unexpected. Everyone else usually ran the moment they saw me. Then again—hood on, she had no idea who I was.

"…The North."

I kept it short. No family name. The second I said Kariks it would all be over.

"Ah, the North."

She nodded, then let out something like a small sigh.

"You came… from far away."

A brief silence. But the young lady neither left the room nor closed her mouth. She fidgeted with her hands on her knees, clearly wanting to say more.

"…Aren't you nervous?"

"About what."

"Everyone's so excited. Twenty-five years, they keep saying. But I…"

She looked out the window. Distant giggles drifted in.

"I don't really know. I'm supposed to be thrilled. Everyone else is. But I just… feel scared."

…Huh. This girl.

She was saying almost the same thing I was. In a banquet where everyone else's eyes sparkled hunting for love, she alone hung on the edges, alone and frightened, wishing it would just end already.

My mouth opened on its own.

"……Me too."

"Pardon?"

"I also wish this would end quickly. This sort of thing doesn't suit me at all."

Her eyes went round. Then she let out a soft pfft of laughter.

"…Whew. Thank goodness. I'm not the only one."

The tension in her face eased a little. For the first time those small shoulders dropped. String music drifted in through the window. Flower scent reached even here. So did the sound of people laughing.

I leaned back against the sofa. When I draped an arm over it the furniture looked narrow.

"Out there is far too noisy."

"……"

"This place is better."

"…Pardon?"

"It's quiet, isn't it."

If I never had to go out there at all, that would be perfect.

"…Ah. Yes."

The fidgeting hands stopped. Esran looked out the window. Then down at her knees. Then tucked her hair behind her ear—hair that hadn't even fallen loose.

"……"

…Is she hot?

A moment of silence. Then the young lady seemed to reach a decision and opened her mouth.

"I… my name is Esran."

Esran.

The name brushed my ear. Before I could turn it over she added shyly,

"May I… ask your name as well?"

My mouth locked. The second I said Kariks, this carefully loosened air would shatter into pieces.

"…The North is enough."

"Ah, yes."

She looked a little awkward, but she didn't press. Then she shivered slightly. Sitting by the window, the breeze must have been getting in. Her thin-dressed shoulders trembled.

Not hot—cold, then.

"…Are you cold?"

"Pardon? Oh, no. I'm fine."

Fine, my foot. Her lips had been blue for a while. I looked around. A lap blanket happened to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be draped over the neighboring sofa. I picked it up and approached. She startled and looked up at me.

"Cover yourself."

I held out the blanket.

"…Thank you."

She took it with both hands. Then just sat there holding it for a long time, resting it on her knees. Finally she drew it up very slowly to her shoulders. She buried her nose in the blanket. The tips of her ears went red. The window breeze must have been colder than I thought.

"Um… excuse me."

"…What now."

Esran looked at me. Not my face—my shoulders. Then her gaze traveled down my arms and stopped briefly where the sleeve had ridden up.

…Did I get something on me?

She gripped the edge of the blanket tightly.

"Would it be possible…"

"……"

"…to see your face, just a little?"

"…?"

"Ah! Th-that's not what I—!"

She flapped her hands.

"Once we enter later everyone will see it anyway, so I just thought… beforehand…"

The words sped up.

"…Being in the same room without even knowing each other's faces feels a little rude."

The face, huh.

This was actually a serious matter. The hood only worked this far; once we entered I would have to take it off anyway.

…Well, she's not wrong.

Besides, this girl hadn't been afraid of me from the start. She had accepted the blanket without fuss just now.

It should be fine.

I raised a hand to the hood.

"…Very well."

I pulled it back slowly. Silver hair spilled free. Esran looked. Silver hair. Ash-gray eyes.

"Bl-Blood…"

Thud—

The blanket hit the floor.

Thud—

Her forehead struck the ground.

"I-I'm so sorry……! I-I have committed a capital offense……!"

…?