“Magic items?”
“No. Every place the Grand Duchess has ever used.”
Orgen couldn't hide his dumbfounded expression.
“When did she even go out?”
“After the Master of the West Tower arrived.”
“I don’t recall hearing anything about that.”
“Did you expect the Grand Duchess to personally report it to you?”
Well, no… But without surveillance, how was he supposed to know?
Annoyed thoughts flickered through his mind, but Orgen was an excellent adjutant.
He understood that protesting to a superior who far surpassed human standards was utterly pointless.
“I’ll do my best.”
“And procure some Bakran saplings.”
“Bakran saplings?”
“The Grand Duchess wants them planted in the mines.”
Why? How many?
Orgen asked with his eyes.
“The expenses will be paid from her private funds. She’s requested they be planted evenly throughout the mining zone.”
“But, Your Grace… Bakran trees have extremely deep roots for their size. What if they spread near the tunnels?”
“What does it matter? The mines are frozen. It won’t be easy for the roots to spread, and even if they do take root, they won’t reach deep enough to affect the tunnels.”
After finishing his explanation, Adrian added:
“Actually, it might even be beneficial. Their roots grip the soil tightly—it might help prevent collapses...”
His voice trailed off as his expression suddenly hardened.
“...Wait.”
“Yes?”
“Bring me the soil composition report for the mining zone.”
Even on second thought, the Grand Duchess’s request was strange.
The mines. The Bakran trees. And her insistence.
Adrian didn’t trust Ione.
She wasn’t someone easily trusted.
How could he, when she claimed she’d try—yet schemed to run away?
To him, his suspicions were only natural.
So, of course, he believed she must have an ulterior motive again.
But...
Upon reviewing the soil report, Adrian found it difficult to mask his confusion.
The mine was primarily covered with soft, organic soil rich in byproducts.
Though frozen and hardened like crystal, its cohesion was weak due to those byproducts.
Meaning: under the right conditions, it could shatter like glass and collapse at any moment.
“Is something wrong, Your Grace?”
Even Orgen asked with concern, noticing his unsettled expression.
‘Isn’t it my money to use as I please?’
Ione had looked so pitiful saying that, yet never truly explained herself.
Suddenly restless, Adrian got up and began to pace.
This behavior didn’t fit anything he had learned from her so far.
To willingly take a loss just to help others…
It seemed generous, but it didn’t quite feel like simple charity.
For a brief moment, he recalled Ione’s expression—a mix of frustration and silent indignation.
And yet she stubbornly said nothing.
Then, her voice resurfaced in his mind:
“I have a husband with good looks, power, and wealth... If I fall in love too easily—”
It wasn’t hard to guess the words that had followed.
Her eyes had brimmed with tears.
Her lips, bitten red, trembled with silent emotion.
Her lashes had fluttered, fragile and uncertain.
What is this...?
Adrian tilted his head.
He felt close to understanding, but the thought kept slipping away.
While he was deep in thought, the hazy sensation that had nearly crystallized vanished completely.
“You’ll find your match someday.”
More of her words resurfaced.
Adrian started piecing together Ione’s assumptions.
To her, he would find someone else—his fated match—and she would be discarded.
Even when he denied it, she had looked at him with quiet pity.
“...”
And now that same woman, without any explanation, had gone and ordered Bakran trees?
“Ah… so
that’s
why the Bakran,”
he muttered.
Unnoticed, Orgen had already finished reading the soil report and let out a whistle of admiration.
“It’s never been an issue before, but if a collapse happens… it would be catastrophic. Still, once those roots spread—remarkable. How did Her Grace think of this?”
“How
did
she know?”
“Right? Maybe she came across a book here at the estate? Or... maybe it’s because she’s from the South?”
“What difference does that make?”
“It’s a known trait. I once met a bureaucrat from the southern grain regions—he was incredibly well-versed in soil science.”
“Because she’s southern...”
Then it’s possible.
“And the Bakran?”
“Didn’t you hear earlier? She had Lady Helena bring her the greenhouse and garden reports.”
If it was a coincidence, it was an extraordinary one.
But right now, that was the only explanation that made sense.
“She just happened to see the Bakran, and it reminded her of the soil in the North?”
“What else could it be? She left the capital and arrived here in a single day—secretly, at that. She had no time to plan anything.”
Orgen rattled off his thoughts before suddenly gathering his papers.
“Well, I’ll start procuring the saplings first.”
“How long will procurement and planting take?”
Adrian had been calm because he didn’t understand the situation.
Now that he did, urgency crept into his voice.
The northern ground had long since frozen into crystalized soil.
Such soil, though hard like stone, shattered like glass under the right pressure.
Just one well-placed blow could cleave a massive rock in two.
And in a mine, such impacts happened thousands, tens of thousands of times a day.
Though deep underground is typically warm in winter and cool in summer, the North was an exception.
Here, in the land of perpetual snow, the cold reached the very ends of the earth.
No matter how deep one dug, the soil was frozen solid like bedrock.
“If we rush it, maybe three days?”
“Take this.”
Adrian pulled a golden badge from his chest—proof of his title—and handed it to Orgen.
Nothing in this land could deny its authority.
“Gather every sapling vendor in the region.”
“I planned to. I’m about to wake them all up.”
“You may also use all remaining knights.”
“Of course. I’m even bringing some staff with me. Also, I plan to halt mining for a week after the planting.”
“Approved.”
The northern mines had never once stopped since they were first discovered.
The gold was pure.
The iron, free of impurities, was of the highest quality.
The entire empire awaited these resources.
And every duke had opened the mines generously for the sake of the imperial family.
But that was only possible as long as the miners were alive.
“I’ll send a letter to the palace.”
“It’s only a week.”
“Have you forgotten? The Preses family has
never
missed a delivery date.”
“Right.”
Under the pale moonlight, their conversation ended, leaving Adrian alone.
He glanced through the remaining documents.
“I’ll do my best, too.”
Ione’s voice echoed once more.
But this time, it wasn’t her tearful plea in the study he recalled.
It was her confident smile at the palace—when she signed the documents herself.
Her cheeks had been flushed pink, her emerald eyes gleaming.
That bright, determined face.
“...”
What kind of man changes his mind this quickly?
Ione let out a dry laugh as she woke to an empty space beside her.
He’d barged in so confidently—she’d thought he’d actually sleep there.
But there wasn’t a single trace that he had.
Seemed he’d left after reading for a while.
“...”
Did I hit him in my sleep?
She always thought she had calm sleep habits, but now her mind was spinning with questions.
“Ugh, whatever.”
How could she possibly understand what was going on in
his
head?
Yawning, Ione sat up, ran her fingers through her messy hair, and tugged the bell cord.
Not long after, Catherine entered with fresh water.
“Good morning, Your Grace.”
“Morning. Did you sleep well, Catherine?”
“I did. Your Grace, it’s snowing quite a lot today. If possible, wouldn’t it be better to stay inside the estate?”
“I’ve been inside the whole time anyway.”
“Have you?”
Catherine giggled softly and began preparing Ione’s morning toilette.
Once dressed simply, Ione turned to the window.
The world outside was blanketed in white.
“Wow... On a day like this, I’d go snowboarding…”
She muttered under her breath—then frowned.
Snowboard?
What was that again?
She couldn’t remember.
Bits of memory were fading, and she didn’t know why—or even
what
she was losing.
It left her feeling unsettled.
“Just prepare something light for breakfast, would you?”
“Of course, Your Grace. I’ll bring it right away. The greenhouse yielded some fresh vegetables today—they looked lovely. I was thinking of a salad to start. What do you think?”
“Sounds perfect.”