Sasha, with wide eyes, glared down at Yuichiro.

Planning to eliminate the source of trouble, had he been following him? Or did he happen to encounter him and unexpectedly leaking his murderous intent? Either way, it was a quite impulsive attack, Yuichiro thought.

With a bellow, Sasha threw his entire weight behind the dagger. As Yuichiro observed the slowly nearing blade, he grunted, “You… dimwit…!”

Then, swinging his left arm, he landed a blow to Sasha’s right cheek amidst a mist of snow. Sasha’s body sprawled in the cold snow momentarily before he sprung back up, ferocious as a beast, to rush at Yuichiro once more.

Yuichiro swiftly rose to his feet. As he eyed the tip of the incoming dagger aimed at his heart, he lifted his own blade. The metallic clink that followed seemed strangely muted against the pristine snowscape.

Parrying the oncoming blade, a primal scream erupted from Yuichiro, “Ending my life won’t fix a thing!”

“Enough! Anyone who brings ruin to our village must perish!”

A passionate response that triggered an unbidden smirk on Yuichiro’s face. Seeing this, Sasha’s handsome face twisted with added fury.

“You presumptuous deity! Don’t assume things will always bend to your will!”

As his rage erupted, Sasha brandished his dagger at Yuichiro.

Anticipating this, Yuichiro attempted to drop low and dodge, but he was a fraction too slow. He felt a numb sting in his left cheek, and concurrently, watched his own blood splatter against the virgin snow. He retreated a few steps, never letting his gaze waver from Sasha.

“What do you mean, everything goes according to my will? Not once has it ever gone my way.”

With that retort, Sasha gritted his back teeth in hatred. “Don’t spout nonsense. You’ve brought disaster to this country, don’t you have even a shred of guilt?”

“Even before I came here, this country was nothing but disaster. The people are conscripted, children starve and die. If you push the responsibility onto someone else, will that make you feel better? But killing me won’t save anyone. Not the people, not even you.” As Yuichiro tightened his grip on his blade, he responded with cold clarity.

A spark of hatred ignited in Sasha’s eyes instantaneously. Gradually, strength seemed to pool in the toes of his right foot, as if readying to bolt.

The moment Yuichiro detected this, he powerfully disturbed the snow underfoot. The clean white powder spiraled towards Sasha, startling him and stalling his advance. Seizing the moment, Yuichiro launched at Sasha in a blur.

Simultaneously clutching Sasha’s right wrist, which was holding the dagger tightly, he knocked him over with a shoulder charge. Then, Yuichiro mounted Sasha who had fallen back and pressed his blade to the young man’s slender throat.

“Don’t play the hero when you can’t even take responsibility for your own misfortune,” Yuichiro growled out in the intervals of his shallow breaths.

Gazing upwards at him, Sasha narrowed his eyes with clear resentment. His own right cheek, the one that Yuichiro had struck before, was turning a shade of red and swelling up. However, then Yuichiro noticed something. He felt a gentle touch against his right knee that was keeping Sasha pinned down with pressure on his chest. A bitter sensation welled up within him.

“A woman?”

Just as he voiced the thought, Sasha’s eyes widened in surprise. Yuichiro moved the edge of his knife closer to her throat, and she squirmed. With a faint sound, the skin was punctured, a thin line of red blood dribbling down Sasha’s neck.

“You’re Yuria, aren’t you?”

In response to his question that was rich in conviction, Sasha retorted sharply, “What does it matter if I am?!”

“What does it matter? I think you’re no hero, you’re merely a coward.”

To him, she was a contemptible being, masquerading as a hero under a fictitious name, concealing her identity as Yuria, a member of the royal lineage. This thought made him believe that Nika, who clung to his burdens instead of shrugging them off, was more honorable.

There was a slight movement in Sasha’s throat. Observing this, Yuichiro resumed his speech in a chilling voice, “You’re even more of a coward than your own brother. You extend aid only to those within reach, projecting an image of a hero. You’re capable of assisting many more, yet you won’t confess your true identity, you won’t do what you’re expected to. Why is that? Do you fear the executioner’s axe?”

“No, that’s not it!” Sasha retorted with a strained voice.

Looking down at the young woman’s stiff face, Yuichiro slightly tilted his head. “Are you afraid that many people will die because of you?”

Faced with this question, Sasha clamped her hand over her mouth. Gazing at her mildly horrified gray eyes, Yuichiro carefully withdrew the knife that he had held against Sasha’s throat. As the knife receded, Sasha blinked as though caught off guard.

Gazing impassively at her bewildered expression, Yuichiro muttered in a barely audible tone, “Both you and Nika should remain mute and trembling until this nation crumbles.”

As he uttered those words, Sasha’s face twisted as if she was on the verge of weeping. He released Sasha’s right hand that was clutching the dagger. Yet, Sasha didn’t move an inch, continuing to lay prone on the snowy ground.

As he rose, a droplet of blood from Yuichiro’s left cheek dripped onto Sasha’s. The intense red of his blood soaked into her pale skin.

Brushing the blood off his cheek with his hand’s back, Yuichiro began to walk away. With heavy footsteps, he made his way through the snow back towards the village.

He felt an unease stirring in his gut. Each time he recalled his conversation with Sasha, a feeling akin to nausea, a kind of frustration, welled up from his very core.This was more an irritation towards himself than towards Sasha.

Biting his lower lip, he saw a silhouette approaching. Stopping to look, he soon realized it was a familiar face. However, the clothes were different than usual.

As he stared in surprise, the approaching figure spoke in an angry voice. “What happened to your face?”

“No, you first, what’s with those clothes?”

He responded in stunned disbelief, but Temeraire ignored that, silently pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. He pressed it to Yuichiro’s still-bleeding left cheek. Instantly, the white fabric began soaking up the blood.

He then stared right back at Temeraire, who was pressing the cloth to his cheek with a displeased expression.

Unfazed, Yuichiro locked eyes with Temeraire, his face twisted in annoyance as the latter pressed the cloth against his wound. Temeraire was clad in pristine, white ceremonial wear, an embodiment of royalty. The attire, accented with intricate silver embellishments, made his usually androgynous appearance radiate masculinity. It wasn’t hard to see why Aoi was drawn to him – he was the epitome of a fairytale prince found in a shoujo manga.

“What on earth were you doing?” Temeraire asked in an angry tone.

Yuichiro, absorbed in observing Temeraire, responded absent-mindedly. “Ah… Sasha attacked me.”

“Attacked?”

Temeraire’s retort was sharp, his eyes narrowing with evident anger. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing much… Just a scrape on my cheek. Also, I discovered Sasha is Yulia.”

“Sasha is Yulia? Are you sure?”

“Before that, what’s with your getup?”

Interrupting the conversation, Yuichiro asked in an agitated tone. Temeraire, looking nonplussed, reluctantly began to explain. “You left me behind, so I was caught by Aoi-san. She wouldn’t let go until I put on this outfit, she clung onto my arm like a rock.”

“Sounds like a crybaby old man.”

“Crybaby old man?”

At Temeraire’s parroted words, said in his broken language style, laughter welled up within Yuichiro. As he let out the laughter he was holding in the back of his throat, Yuichiro could feel the irritation that had been festering within him slowly dissipate.

“You wear it well. You look quite like a man when you’re like this.”

“I’ve always been a man.”  Temeraire retorted, sounding somewhat exasperated.

Yuichiro reached out to touch Temeraire’s collar, which was neatly buttoned. Engraved on the metal clasp of the collar was a beautiful pattern, like a flower. As he gently traced the pattern with his fingertips, he muttered to himself, “Aoi’s taste isn’t so bad.”

“Please stop. I want to take off these ridiculous clothes immediately.”

“Do you want me to help you take them off?”

When he asked teasingly, Temeraire blinked hard once. Staring at the grinning Yuichiro, he then made a puzzled face. “Please stop with the pointless jokes.”

“May I take it as a joke?”

When Yuichiro further teased, Temeraire lowered the corners of his eyebrows as if confused. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

This time, Temeraire asked as if calming down a child. Feeling the touch of Temeraire’s hand on his back, Yuichiro felt a slight lump in his throat. His thin smile faded, and a bitter emotion began to well up.

“Talking with you…it throws me off balance.”

As he spat out words that sounded like he was venting his frustration, Temeraire widened his eyes in surprise. Then, a faint smile appeared on his face.

“Well, thank you.”

“I’m not praising you.”

“To me, it’s a compliment. You are stubborn and eccentric, and the fact that I can disturb such a person, is quite an honor.”

Lowering his eyes, Temeraire let out a small laugh. Along with the man’s laughter, a white mist rose gently from his lips.

The moment Yuichiro saw it, a sudden warmth welled up within him. The man before his eyes was certainly alive, breathing, and the realization was overwhelmingly dear. He reached out and gently touched Temeraire’s cheek. The fine, white skin was slightly reddened due to the cold air. The moment he touched his cheek, Temeraire’s hand overlapped his own.

“Your hand is cold.”

“So is yours.”

“Well, then we’re a perfect match, both of us being cold.”

With a jesting remark, Temeraire quietly smiled.

The moment Yuichiro saw that smile, he felt as if he might cry. Something that had swollen deep inside his chest moved his body of its own accord. He took a step forward, crashing into Temeraire’s chest, staring at his surprised expression, and then their lips met. They felt cold, a bit harder than usual.

Changing angles, he repeatedly layered his lips slowly over Temeraire’s, and unexpectedly something warm came between their lips. A soft tongue quietly snuck into his mouth. The lips were cold, but the tongue was surprisingly hot.

Their tongues rubbed together, intertwining tightly. The breath expelled in the intervals of their kisses transformed into white vapor before their faces. Sticky saliva made an obscene, squelching noise in the narrow space between their tongues, assaulting his eardrums.

Before he knew it, both of Temeraire’s arms were around his waist. Drawn into an embrace, he pressed tightly against Temeraire. The rapid heartbeat from their touching chests reached him. Whether it was his heartbeat or Temeraire’s, he couldn’t distinguish anymore.

“Mmmnh, ah… …”