[Leif’s POV — Night—Leif’s Chamber]

I stretched my arms high until my shoulders popped, a yawn escaping before I could stop it. "Finally... peace," I muttered, flopping onto the bed like a man who had just fought a war with paperwork.

Zephyy leapt gracefully onto the mattress and burrowed under the blanket with a satisfied huff. Only the tip of his blue tail poked out.

"It’s time to sleep..." I mumbled, dragging the blanket up to my chin. My gaze drifted to the window—snowflakes swirled like feathers against the glass. "It’s snowing a lot. Guess I’ll be having a nice, long, cold sle—"

SLAM!

The door burst open so violently I thought the hinges screamed.

"MY LORRRDDDDDDD!!!"

Baron Brust came charging in like an avalanche in human form, his round belly bouncing with every panicked step.

Zephyy shot upright, fur puffed like a terrified squirrel. "What the—?!"

I blinked, still half-tucked under the blanket, and smiled wearily. "Ah... yes," I sighed, "it’s time to lose my sleep."

Baron Brusted skidded to a halt, leaning on his sword for support. "MY LORD, EMERGENCY!" His chest heaved as if he’d been running for a week straight.

I forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "I... am all ears, Baron."

He straightened, trying to look serious but still slightly winded. "Our knights... have found a dead body... three kilometers away from our estate."

I blinked. Once. Twice. My sleepy brain lagged like a bad messenger pigeon.

"...A dead body," I repeated flatly.

"Yes, my lord."

"Are you... sure it’s dead?"

Baron Brust’s face drained of color. "No, my lord. But the way he was lying in the snow..." He gulped. "I’m certain he’s frozen solid. No... signs... of life."

I stared at him for a full three seconds before dragging my hands down my face.

"Damn it," I muttered, standing and wrapping myself in a woolen shawl. "No one... touched it, right?"

Baron Brust shook his head quickly. "No, my lord. Our knights even restrained the crimson pups—made sure they didn’t sniff around too much."

I nodded, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. "Good."

***

[Later—Night—Under the Snow]

CRUNCH—CRUNCH—CRUNCH.

Snow crushed under my boots like the world was eating my footsteps. Lanterns bobbed—Nick holding mine, ten crimson pups forming a jittery semi-circle, their breath steaming in the lantern light. Zephyy perched on my shoulder like a disgruntled crown.

"My lord... what if it’s foul play?" Nick asked, voice low.

"We will find out," I said.

We pushed through a shallow drift. A cluster of knights had gathered around a shape on the ground, crimson banners making the snow look like it had developed an opinion.

I passed my knights, my gaze falling on a figure sprawled face-first in the snow. Black hair spread like ink on white. I crouched closer.

"Is he... really dead?" I asked.

One knight stepped forward nervously. "Do you... want to check, my lord?"

"Yes," I said simply. "Check him. And be gentle."

The knight leaned over, checking pulse. My brows furrowed as the man shifted slightly, black hair glinting under the lantern light. He was handsome... impossibly so. And, unsettlingly, familiar.

"The man is still alive, my lord," the knight reported.

I exhaled, a relieved laugh escaping my lips. "Thank God. No corpses in my territory tonight."

Crouching lower, I studied him. His legs were bare—no shoes, frozen toes peeking from the snow.

"Looks like he ran... or was in a hurry," I muttered, brow furrowed.

Nick nodded grimly, stepping closer. "My lord... judging by his clothes, he’s clearly from a noble family."

"And... abused," Baron added, voice low as he leaned closer to this stranger’s corpse.

I blinked. "Abused? How can you tell?"

Baron gestured to the bare feet. "Then why else would he run barefoot in the snow?"

I nodded slowly. "A very good point."

We all gathered around the stranger, voices low, breath misting in the cold. I was mid-sentence, about to make a very insightful observation about how miserable my night was, when—

Something cold brushed against my leg.

I froze.

... Was that the wind? The snow? I hope it’s not a ghost.

I looked down.

A pale, trembling hand was clutching the hem of my cloak.

My soul left my body.

Slowly— so painfully slowly —I looked up.

The stranger’s lashes fluttered, snowflakes catching on them like frost-tipped feathers. Then his lips curved upward in the faintest, most spine-chilling smile I’d ever seen.

"Finally..." he breathed, voice soft but haunting, "...we meet, my—"

My brain short-circuited.

My heart screamed before I could. And then—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The entire night exploded in chaos.

Knights yelled. Crimson pups howled. Zephyy on my shoulder shrieked, "WHAT THE HELL, MASTER?!" while I pointed dramatically at the man like I’d just witnessed the apocalypse.

"He’s alive! He’s possessed! Or both!"

Before anyone could clarify which, one of my knights panicked and smacked the poor man’s head with the flat of his sword.

THUNK.

The man instantly collapsed back into the snow, limbs limp. Silence fell. The kind that only happens when everyone’s too shocked to process what just occurred.

Nick, bless his trembling soul, whispered, "He... fell unconscious again..."

I stood there, shaking, before dramatically covering my face. "Dear heavenly gods, I hate this world." I took a deep breath and gestured wildly. "Baron, drag his body back to the estate before he wakes up and starts saying cryptic nonsense again! If he dies here, he’ll haunt us, and I refuse to add ghost management to my noble description."

Baron, already pale as flour, nodded quickly. "Y-yes, my lord. The pack can carry him."

"Perfect," I said, giving a tired thumbs-up. "Let the wolves handle my emotional damage."

At my signal, the crimson pups obediently grabbed the stranger’s sleeves and collar with their teeth, lifting him in the most awkward, chaotic display of teamwork imaginable.

And there he was—dangling midair like some cursed piñata—snow glimmering in his dark hair, mouth faintly curved in that same eerie smile.

I exhaled deeply, eyes narrowing.

"Great," I muttered. "He’s handsome, mysterious, and nearly dead. Of course fate drops him in my backyard. "

Zephyy sighed on my shoulder. " Master, you attract chaos like it’s your love language."

"Yeah," I muttered, turning toward the estate. "And tonight, I think chaos decided to confess."

***

[Thorenvald Estate—Later—Servants’ Room]

Eryndor stared down at the unconscious stranger like he was judging an improperly cooked fish. "So... who is he again?"

Nick’s smile was pure panic dressed as confidence. "That... we absolutely do not know."

Eryndor blinked once. Twice. Then sighed. "Of course."

I moved to step inside, but Baron spread an arm to block me—like a protective door made of belly and worry. "My lord, you shouldn’t enter. If he wakes suddenly, he could be dangerous."

. . .

I gasped dramatically, clutching my heart. "Baron... are you worried about me ?"

He looked at me flatly, deeply confused why that was a question. "What? Of course I am."

My eyes shimmered. "Oh... I’m touched."

Baron stared flatly. "Well, if something happens to you... who will deal with all the work and the people?"

. . .

. . .

My soul left my body for a moment.

"Ah. I see. I was happy... for no reason." My voice became the dictionary definition of flat.

From inside, Eryndor called out, still examining the man, "He’s unconscious because he ran barefoot across snow. Keep him warm and he’ll recover."

I nodded, then looked at Baron. "You can handle this, right?"

Baron blinked at me, then smiled reassuringly. "Yes, my lord. Don’t worry. Maybe go prepare something to celebrate our knights... and Sir Roland."

My brows scrunched. "Did we win a battle?"

"No battle," Baron admitted, voice sympathetic. "The villagers simply agreed to join Frojnheim."

I stared at him. "So... Sir Roland’s dream of glorious war... collapsed?"

"Unfortunately... yes."

I sighed with the weight of a heroic dream crushed under the boots of diplomacy. "Then I shall prepare something to encourage him. A man needs comfort when his violence is denied."

Baron nodded solemnly.

I swept my cloak dramatically and headed back to my chamber. "A victory is a victory—even if it’s peaceful. We shall celebrate our domination by... paperwork and friendly agreement!"

Zephyy snorted, unimpressed. I ignored him and marched on. A new village under my banner. A mysterious noble handsome corpse— no, person —in my estate.

What could possibly go wrong next?