The Boy and Winter Island 018
“The snacks you used to love... some clothes... Ah! There's a play getting rave reviews these days—let's go see that too!”
“Yes...”
“The gardeners prepared something special, and I heard a fancy hairpin shop just opened...”
“I'll tell Kalen when he gets back.”
“No... please leave that Kalen out of it...”
“That's not happening.”
Aah—Eliana glanced surreptitiously at the mirror as the sigh tickled the back of her head. The maid behind her had been artfully styling her hair for over an hour. It was Emma, the one she'd at least talked to during her painful episodes. Emma had been a handful, sobbing nonstop upon hearing of her recovery.
But Eliana didn't mind. Nor was it just Emma. Her playful brother Schultz cracking jokes. Dekaum, still stoic like their father but showing subtle care. Her mother's kind smile unchanged, and her father softer than before. She'd thought those memories had faded, but no—they hadn't. The events of the past few days had brought them rushing back.
The scenery Eliana had so desperately yearned for. Only now, her heart had changed. There was one who filled it all and more—someone she'd never give up, even if the rest was stripped away. Without him, she wouldn't have survived, let alone reclaimed it.
“Emma...”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Not that one... this one...”
Through the mirror, she saw Emma pick up a flashy blue gem. Eliana pointed instead to the slate-gray stone she'd been eyeing.
“Eh... My lady, that's a bit dull...”
“I like this one.”
“Y-yes...”
In the end, with the dark gem adorning her shoulder, Eliana nodded in satisfaction. That made her wonder when Kalen would return. He'd been summoned by her father early that morning. That's why she was alone with Emma now—dressing while waiting, with no intention of leaving the room without him.
“Shall we wait outside, my lady?”
“...No.”
Eliana turned to stare at the door. When Kalen was there, it was just an ordinary door. Now, it stirred more than reluctance—it sparked fear. The mansion she'd wandered freely yesterday felt like some unknown abyss.
Sure enough. She needed Kalen. Without him, she lacked the courage to cross that threshold. She feared stumbling as she walked. Worried the illness might return. Yet the thought that Kalen would handle it somehow made her cheeks burn for no reason. His warmth from carrying her, whispering to her, still lingered on her skin.
Thus, Eliana gazed endlessly at the door. As always, longing for the boy to open it and step inside.
“My lady?”
“...”
“My lady.”
“...”
Misheard? Eliana figured she was still half-asleep. Otherwise, she'd never hear such words. Or maybe the illness had returned, impairing her hearing. Unconsciously, she leaned toward Kalen to cling to him.
“My lady!”
“Eek!”
Only when Kalen gripped her shoulders to stop her.
“W-what are you doing?”
“I think my illness is back, Kalen... I can't hear well...”
“Pardon?”
“Eek...!”
Kalen hurriedly glanced at Emma. She peeked through the barely cracked door, hand over her face. Leaving Eliana like this with her eyes wide open would spawn rumors he couldn't handle. The young maids already hounded him just for walking the mansion halls. No more needed.
“What illness?”
“I can't hear properly...”
“What did you hear?”
“That you have to leave now...”
Kalen shot another glance at Emma—still peeking, eyes uncovered—and replied.
“Sounds like you heard right.”
“Kalen has to leave...?”
“Yes.”
“...Why?”
Kalen noticed the shift in her tone. Looking at her, he found Eliana's face hardening instead.
She gently overlaid her hands on his gripping hers, guiding them to her thigh and stroking. Then met his eyes levelly.
“Why.”
It wasn't a question. Eliana rarely dragged her words, but questions always rose at the end.
“Th-that—”
“Why.”
“My lady...”
“Why. Why. Why.”
Squeeze—Kalen winced at the pressure from below, lowering his gaze. Her fingers dug into his hand, veins bulging red on his skin. Then tighter still. Her flat, emotionless voice rang in his ear.
“Look at me. Where are you looking, Kalen?”
The chill in her voice sent a shiver through his heart.
“Why is my bodyguard leaving me? You have to protect me. Watch over me.”
Sensing something wrong, Kalen rushed to backpedal.
“My lady.”
“Why.”
“It was a joke.”
“...”
Kalen smiled playfully. His hidden gaze stayed calmly on her.
Whoosh—He focused nerves on his hand, easing the tension. Sure enough, she released it and spread her arms wide. Her smile now was the total opposite of moments ago.
“I want to go for a walk, Kalen...”
“...Yes.”
“Thanks for doing my hair, Emma.”
“Y-yes? My lady?”
With that, Eliana left with Kalen. Emma couldn't comprehend what she'd just witnessed.
“Father said I need to study magic...”
“The duke is a fine mage himself, and you'll excel too, my lady.”
“Yes... Thank you. But I want to learn from Kalen...”
“I lack the skill to teach anyone.”
“Still...”
Throb—Throb—The grand floor-to-ceiling window in Eliana's room overlooked the garden she'd gazed at daily before meeting Kalen. The first place she'd visited upon returning to the mansion. She'd wondered if the view from her prison-like room matched reality. If the distant garden lived up to her imaginings.
But Kalen's mind was elsewhere. The pain throbbing in the hand she'd gripped. Why did Sinat come to mind? Separate from her eerie state, that grip strength was unnatural. She was a delicate woman—slender and frail. No way squeezing his hand should hurt like this. And the clear handprint confirmed it.
Unless it involved mana.
Is it related to mana?
Another positive change in Eliana: her mana. A vast amount unbelievable for her age—even Everchan was stunned. No wonder he'd rushed to arrange magic lessons.
As Kalen pondered her “illness,” too many pieces connected. Her mana overheating was just a provisional name. Even the papers Everchan scoured described only symptoms, no official term. They'd named it for the boiling mana surge in her and those around her.
So what was the root “illness”?
She said it got better around me.
That was his clue. Similar to when he'd thrown himself to save Sinat. When she was trapped in the Spirit Realm, his attempt to sever the link involved manifesting his Mental Image. Tied to his mana-less constitution. It had worked, though he didn't fully understand how.
Something similar happened with Eliana. Coincidence? Her condition involved mana too. If his mana-less body interacted with her overheating mana to suppress it...
That explained it. But one snag: the Mental Image. What Blamia called hell.
Mine emerges when mana stimulates it.
Her illness must have stimulated his mana, triggering his Mental Image. That fit.
Common threads with Sinat: mana-less body and Mental Image. Much unknown, but talking to Blamia would help.
Kalen shifted his focus.
“...”
Eliana gently stroked a tree. The chill from earlier lingered in his mind.
—No way to endure without going mad, he'd said. My wife told me people cling desperately to something precious to escape painful reality...
Why did Blamia's words resurface? He'd deflected for now, but such reactions ongoing spelled trouble. For the moment, he'd chalk it up to temporary.
Kalen shook off the thought.
“Remember... Kalen...?”
“Remember what, my lady?”
They'd wandered deep into the garden while he was lost in thought. Careless—he chided himself and met her eyes.
“Our bet...”
“Ah.”
Right. In the plains' center, when her illness worsened. Among words to keep her fighting—run away, let her die—there'd been that one. He'd had no slack then; it slipped out habitually. And she'd remembered, even delirious.
“If I live to see Winter Island, you win... right?”
“Yes.”
“Then I lost...”
A reward, perhaps? Everchan had settled her matter by aiding Blamia fully. Nothing extra for Kalen. He didn't mind, but this separate gesture felt nice.
“Winter Island. Did you like it, Kalen...?”
“It was beautiful.”
“...Mm.”
Eliana looked relieved, then met his eyes again. No gift in hand—immaterial, then.
As that thought crossed his mind—
“The prize for winning the bet...”
Mana rippled from Eliana. The world reassembled. In pristine snow. Serene yet majestic sunlight. Grand canyons and crystal waters. The paradise he'd called sublime.
Recreated from Eliana.
“...?”
Kalen couldn't hide his uncharacteristic bewilderment. He knew this phenomenon.
Soon the garden vanished. In its place rose the unforgettable smile—that place.
No chill in the air, yet he felt cool. The pleasant heaviness atop the plateau returned.
Kalen stared blankly. But one difference: that world held another him, gazing at the vista.
“...How is it, Kalen?”
Like a single painting. The name he knew, the world had named. The picture Eliana bestowed: a Mental Image.
One capturing Winter Island perfectly. Eliana's world, incomparably beautiful.