SN Chapter 1

Rosaline of Redwheel. She alone had not been found—not even as a corpse.

The warming seasons brought exponential growth in both wildlife and demonic beasts, a persistent misery across the region. Suppression units were dispatched several times a year, but the County of Iron-Bramble, Vista in particular, saw them with unusual frequency. The terrain was treacherous enough that even well-trained knights rarely lasted more than a few days; more critically, the landscape offered endless places for creatures to hide. Clear the area and declare it settled—then wait a short while, and they came crawling back out again, causing fresh havoc.

The day after hunters and a suppression unit had passed through Iron-Bramble County, a demonic beast in the form of a horned mountain boar descended to raze a village at the mountain's base. It had come down because the hunting had depleted its food supply. The beast was busy devouring a gaunt young boy when knights under the Count of Iron-Bramble put it down.

That was why this place had been chosen to host the Emperor's hunting competition. The event had been organized to quell unrest among the populace and demonstrate the imperial family's vitality. It drew many nobles and members of the imperial family, as well as multiple knight orders.

The Second Prince's White Night Order. The Imperial Second Knight Order 'Verdant,' which escorted the Fifth Prince. The Imperial Fourth Knight Order 'Spindrift.' The Iron-Bramble Order. The Ironshod Order. Enough military force moved that it might have been mistaken for the opening of a war. The abbreviated schedule proceeded without incident. Apart from a handful of servants who twisted their ankles on the steep mountain paths, there were no significant casualties.

On the fifth day of the hunting competition, something happened.

The Kingdom of Balta—vast, bordering the Empire of Illavénia—was home to an assassination unit that operated out of its territory. That unit breached the mountain where Illavénia's power had concentrated. Torches multiplied one by one in the thick dark of night, and the battle began. The initial surprise threw ranks into momentary disarray, but the tide reversed almost instantly. The numerical disparity alone would have told the story; in terms of military strength, no mere assassination unit could compare.

By dawn, the commotion had quieted. The attackers had all been eliminated. The princes were unharmed, without so much as a scratch. But the losses on their own side were too substantial to celebrate. The morning sun rose over ground drenched in blood indifferent to which side had spilled it. The few dozen assassins had used poison and concealed weapons to inflict the maximum damage available to them.

The hunting competition could not continue. The princes made haste back to the palace. The knight orders departed for the capital, Tigaard, for escort duty—though a portion remained behind to recover the wounded and the dead.

The vice-captain of the White Night Order had died. His adjutant drew lines through the roster one by one. Fifteen injured, seven dead. No—fourteen injured and eight dead. A physician had just pronounced one more member deceased while undergoing treatment. Unable to fully suppress the anguish, he found the name and drew the line.

By midday, the names had been sorted. Those who had departed for escort duty. The injured. The dead. The adjutant noticed that one name appeared in none of the three lists.

Rosaline of Redwheel. The eldest daughter of Count Redwheel, skilled enough to have entered the White Night Order despite being a woman. Her martial ability was below that of the male knights, but the vice-captain who had just died had valued her for her diligent work ethic.

The adjutant made inquiries in every direction—wondering if her body might have been mistakenly collected by another knight order. But her black hair was nowhere to be found.

A search party dispatched by House Redwheel located her six days after the battle: deep in the forest, at the base of a cliff, gravely injured.

The mansion with its white mourning cloths emerged from its long silence. The eldest daughter of Count Redwheel, presumed dead in the battle during the hunting competition, had come home alive. The white cloths that signified mourning still hung half-removed from the castle walls—it seemed the servants had abandoned the task mid-way through. There were more urgent matters than retrieving cloth.

The commotion outside lasted only a moment before the castle gates opened. A black-haired man entered, his expression set in rigid lines.

"My sister?"

"Welcome back, young master. The young lady is in her room. It seems those on high were watching over her."

She had fallen from that cliff and nothing had broken. Instead, the accumulation of large and small wounds had bled substantially, and she was in the grip of a high fever, they said.

When she'd first been found, there were those who would not guarantee her life. Her condition had been critical enough that she could not return directly to House Redwheel—she had to receive treatment at Vista first. The wounds healed gradually, but she could not open her eyes throughout.

Count Redwheel, who had at minimum wanted to prevent her from dying among strangers, ordered her transported from Vista to the estate. It was an arduous journey for a patient's body, but remarkably, by the following morning, her consciousness had returned. "She must have so longed to come home," the butler said, his voice thick as he brought a handkerchief to his eyes. "That is how she found the strength."

Kallix climbed the stairs quickly. Several servants and maids followed in a small crowd. On the second floor, the estate's rotund and sweating physician, Basio, was just leaving Rosaline's room. He saw Kallix mounting the stairs in haste and bowed his head hurriedly.

"My sister. How is she?"

"Ah, Master Kallix. The young lady's fever has come down— and... she appears to be all right..."

The words stretched out strangely. Kallix regarded him with narrowed eyes. Silence pressed down on the physician. He couldn't withstand it, and forced one more word out through gritted teeth.

"...Probably."

What the hell kind of answer is that? Whether she was all right or not remained entirely unclear. Beneath Kallix's expression, which had grown more severe still, Physician Basio's eyes moved in every direction. The man always sweated excessively, but right now he was drenched as though he'd walked through rain.

The signs were not good. Kallix barely brought his heart under control as it threatened to lurch.

"Is something wrong with my sister?"

"W-well, that is—"

Kallix didn't wait for him to finish. He pushed the door open.

'Even between siblings, entering without permission is a breach of manners, Kallix.'

He had been scolded for this often as a child, but right now he was not composed enough to wait for the room's owner to grant him entry. His sister's figure came into view—seated on the bed, staring at the door, toward the sudden disturbance that had just erupted.

Her arm was wrapped in bandages, and several small cuts marked her face. She looked gaunt, but for someone who had hovered between life and death for days, she appeared remarkably well. Kallix exhaled in relief. Basio's strange behavior had put him on edge for nothing, it seemed.

He smoothed the furrow from between his brows and approached Rosaline. Even as he pulled the small chair beside the bed toward himself and sat, she did nothing but stare at Kallix's face—still, unblinking, eyes holding him without expression. He knew his sister's impassive nature well enough, but something felt off about the reaction of someone who had just barely survived a terrible battle. She needn't throw her arms around him with joy, but this particular stillness was something else entirely...

"How are you feeling, Sister? Is anything troubling you?"

The clock ticked. Even at Kallix's question, she only blinked. The lips, pressed flat in a line, showed no sign of opening. At the slightly strange air, Kallix said "Sister?" and asked again. Her peridot-colored eyes, lovely, took in his reflection. Rosaline's eyelids descended slowly and then rose. The voice that emerged—rough and low and sunken, attesting to the toll of recent days—sounded out.

"Are you— feeling all right. Is anything—troubling...?"

Kallix straightened sharply from his forward lean. Some immediate wrongness had made his body react before he'd decided to. He frowned, disconcerted by his own response. His eyes wavered.

Rosaline continued to observe him in perfect stillness. The eyes that held not a single grain of emotion were cooler than usual. Kallix rubbed his face several times and forced a smile. To anyone watching, his unsettled state was unmistakable—yet his voice remained calm and gentle.

"Rest a little, Sister. I have matters requiring my attention. I'll see myself out."

"Rest a little..."

"Yes. I'll come again shortly."

He turned. He fixed Basio with a stare that could cut glass. Basio, sweating profusely, followed Kallix as he stepped out into the corridor. The door closed. A terrible silence settled on the hallway. Kallix pressed his fingers against the area around his eyes, as though he were very tired.

"What in the world... is this."

Basio heard the young master's teeth grinding. He could not bring himself to meet Kallix's eyes, staring instead at the toes of his shoes with an expression of utter mortification.

"I believe I asked what this was."

Basio's whole body gave a convulsive shudder. He wrestled his trembling voice into some semblance of order and conveyed his diagnosis.

"The fall from the cliff—her head struck, the blood loss—it was severe. Her state is... weakened, and it seems her memory has suffered a temporary lapse. Much like the elderly, you see, when their linguistic faculties begin to crumble... it seems to be something of that kind."

"Dementia?"

Kallix's expression contracted. He appeared to dislike the word "dementia" being attached to the eldest daughter of House Redwheel, who was nothing if not sharp-minded.

Basio answered in haste.

"The brain is an extraordinarily delicate organ and difficult to assess. I wished to explain that problems with the brain can cause the linguistic system to break down—not that the young lady has developed dementia."

Translator Note:

White Night Order (하얀밤 기사단) Literally "White Night," this name translates cleanly and was kept as-is. It carries a cool, ethereal quality in both languages.

The Verdant Order, the Imperial Second Knight Order (깊은숲 기사단) Literally "Deep Forest." Opted for a Latinate English rendering, trading the original's quiet, almost pastoral simplicity for something that reads as more aristocratically elevated while still giving that woodland imagery at its core. Also, Deep Forest sounds lame as a Knight Order name.

Spindrift, the Imperial Fourth Knight Order (물보라 기사단) Literally "Water Spray" or "Spume" — the fine mist thrown up by waves or rushing water. Spindrift is a strong equivalent, being a real nautical term for exactly that phenomenon, and it preserves the elemental, kinetic feel of the original.

The Iron-Bramble Order (마른가시나무 기사단) Literally "Withered Thorn Tree" or "Dry Thorn Tree." Compresses and slightly elevates this into Iron-Bramble, borrowing the name from the county the order is associated with. It loses the specific image of something dried-out and thorned, but does gain concision. And seriously, no one would want to be associate with something withering as a knight order.

The Ironshod Order (강철발굽 기사단) Literally "Iron Hoof" or "Steel Hoof." Ironshod is a real English term for hooves fitted with iron shoes, historically associated with warhorses, preserving the original's martial/equestrian imagery almost exactly while reading as a name a knight order could actually carry.