*[What do you want to do?]*
Lennox rarely posed such questions.
From past experience, Juliet knew she needed to be extraordinarily careful in her response.
Last summer, during their vacation, she had mentioned wanting to go boating on the lake, but…
In the end, they never went boating.
Instead of a peaceful afternoon rowing across the water, Lennox had cancelled his entire schedule and returned abruptly to his castle in the North.
And what followed caused her even more emotional distress than the mere cancellation of the outing.
Shortly afterward, he appeared early one morning as she was just waking—and announced he had purchased a boat.
*You said you wanted a boat?*
But a small vessel for leisurely trips across a lake and a massive ship capable of crossing open seas without difficulty had absolutely nothing in common.
"Juliet."
Juliet felt her nerves tighten when the Duke pressed for an answer, as though he required one immediately.
"For what purpose are you asking me this?"
Regardless of his apparent sincerity, Juliet wasn't naive enough to simply trust him and reveal her desires.
But remaining silent wasn't ideal either.
Because then she would be forced to return to the villa and sit alone in her bedroom for days—or even months—tormented by boredom while he attended to his work. In reality, she only needed to endure a few months until her contract expired and she regained her freedom. But she wished to postpone her forced solitude, if only briefly.
However, she couldn't devise a suitable excuse—she had never been particularly skilled at improvisation.
And the current situation, with him looming over her like an accusation made flesh, certainly wasn't helping…
Juliet knew that if she didn't think of something quickly, Lennox would simply whisk her away from Ilena's mansion. So she searched desperately for a solution.
"Ah!"
Juliet's suddenly alert gaze fell upon servants standing nearby, cutting oiled red paper into squares.
It appeared this would later be distributed to guests gathered in the greenhouse…
*That's right—the old winter custom!*
"Excuse me—might I take some of this colored paper?"
When she approached the servants and made her request, they happily handed over several sheets.
In winter, small children used this oiled paper as a plaything—folding it into lanterns and releasing them into the sky for good fortune, or hanging them in windows and on porches. But truthfully, lanterns crafted from this particular paper were most commonly displayed to ensure that travelers arriving from distant places wouldn't lose their way.
An ancient custom held that if you folded paper into a lantern, lit the wick inside, and hung it in a window, misfortune would pass over your home—and its gentle light would attract good luck.
"Here. Take this."
Juliet thrust a large sheet of paper into Lennox's hands.
"…What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked, his expression bewildered.
"Fold it."
"Didn't I ask what *you* wanted to do?"
"I want to do *this*."
When Juliet noticed his expression growing darker by the second, she added:
"Together with you."
"……"
Though Lennox's frown shifted to skepticism following her words, Juliet felt generally pleased—because he didn't refuse.
It was a sound decision, considering how hastily she'd made it. At least he wouldn't waste his money on something extravagant.
Besides, it wouldn't harm anyone—and most importantly, it wouldn't cause her any emotional pain.
Juliet reasoned that it didn't matter whether Lennox considered her idea absurd. If he ended up regretting wasting his time on something so trivial, perhaps he would never bother pestering her again.
But while Juliet settled onto the window frame and began deftly folding a paper lantern, Lennox simply stood nearby and observed.
Folding lanterns didn't require any special skill—but ensuring they were symmetrical and even demanded considerable concentration. As she worked, Juliet found herself remembering how she used to craft lanterns with her parents every winter. And each time, they would scold her for playing with fire.
"You do it so beautifully!" the maid praised Juliet upon seeing how neat the completed lantern appeared.
But the man who continued standing silently with paper in hand said nothing.
Only then did Juliet realize that from the moment she'd given him the sheet, he hadn't begun folding.
"Don't you know how to fold it?"
"…No."
Juliet blinked in confusion.
This was the first time he had ever admitted he couldn't do something.
"You've never made them before?"
"No."
Juliet felt somewhat embarrassed upon hearing his answer.
At first, she even suspected it might be a joke—but she knew Lennox Carlisle was not the type of person who would jest about such matters.
Come to think of it, she had never seen lanterns displayed in any window throughout the Northern Duchy.
But since this was originally a *northern* custom, it seemed exceedingly strange that the ruler of the northern lands knew nothing about it.
Juliet, uncertain what to say, simply stared at him in mute amazement. He, in turn, raised one eyebrow with visible irritation.
"Do I truly need to know how to fold them?"
"……"
Of course, he didn't *need* to know—and yet…
"I'm quite certain any citizen of the Empire can do this."
*Didn't he try making lanterns as a child? Didn't his mother teach him?*
Juliet, who had nearly spoken the thought aloud, realized the answer simply by considering it.
Given the cruelty and bloodthirst that characterized all his relatives, it was highly unlikely the late Duke and Duchess—even had they lived—would have sat down with their son to craft paper lanterns together.
Now she understood why he had merely stood and watched while she worked.
Juliet decided to rectify the situation. She also grew nervous, noticing that the mansion's servants appeared to have overheard their conversation and were observing them with curious interest.
"Your Grace, please come with me."
Juliet gathered additional sheets of colored paper and proceeded toward an empty sitting room.
She worried he might laugh at her for being childish, or simply stop her and announce they were returning to the villa—but despite her fears, he followed silently.
It was a somewhat peculiar experience.
During her time in the North, Juliet had learned many things from him—crossbow shooting, horseback riding. His teaching methods had been rather brutal, but they had equipped her with practical survival skills.
By observing him from the sidelines, she had gradually learned how knights fought and survived on battlefields. But until now, Juliet had always been the one receiving instruction.
This was the first time she could teach *him* something.
"You need to fold it like this—and then do this…"
When Juliet slowly folded the sheet of paper the required number of times, then carefully unfolded it, the paper took the shape of a lantern.
Juliet deliberately demonstrated again, slowly and methodically—but the man seated across from her at the table, chin propped in his hand, merely glanced from the finished lantern to her face and remarked:
"I didn't remember."
"……"
"You can simply give me the one you made yourself."
"No. That won't do."
Juliet frowned and pulled the completed lantern away from his reach.
"Why not?"
"The entire point is that you must make it with your *own* hands—otherwise it's meaningless."
Lennox regarded Juliet with a questioning expression for a moment, but eventually answered with reluctance:
"Fine."
The way he folded the sheet of paper with his large hands appeared rather clumsy—yet the dexterity and precision of his movements remained unmistakable.
Lennox quickly shaped the paper into a lantern according to Juliet's instructions.
Upon examining his handiwork, Juliet felt a twinge of envy. The corners were so neat and perfect it was difficult to believe this was his first attempt. Moreover, the lantern's shape was flawless—meaning he no longer required her guidance.
"Now you can hang it by the window."
"How tedious."
But despite his words, Lennox complied with Juliet's request.
"What do you mean, *tedious*? My mother always said that doing this would prevent me from catching cold during winter—"
Juliet, who had protested instinctively upon hearing his dismissive tone, fell awkwardly silent as she realized what she'd just said.
Sighing softly, she said quietly:
"Hang it there, please."
Lennox didn't understand why Juliet had reacted that way—but he said nothing and simply hung the lantern where she indicated.
"This will ward off misfortune from you during the winter."
Lennox, naturally, didn't believe that some paper lantern could ward off bad luck.
Even in his distant childhood, he hadn't suffered from the oppressive sense of loss or endured the particular hardships that shaped such superstitions. Such emotions were simply foreign to him.
However, when he observed the woman smiling serenely at the paper lantern, he felt some inexplicable thirst—the nature of which he couldn't comprehend.
---
Roy stood in the center of a forest clearing, surrounded on all sides by such dense, dark woodland that even the bright sun couldn't illuminate its shadowed corners. He gazed down at his feet with an expression of cold indifference.
Beneath him sprawled a massive grey-brown wolf.
"You—*you*…! You *disgusting* bastard!"
Graham glared up at Roy with blazing eyes, brimming with malice and bloodlust—but he couldn't move a single finger.
Even clan members unbound by ordinary rules were strictly forbidden from killing their brothers and sisters.
However, Roy couldn't forgive the foolish Graham, who had nearly destroyed his plans forever. Because of his brother's stupidity, he had almost lost Juliet.
"Why are you complaining *now*?" Roy said mockingly, pressing his foot hard into his brother's chest.
"*GRAAAAAAAA!*"
"I recall you once said I was only *half* wolf—so what's the matter now?"
Graham released a shrill scream of agony, but Roy didn't so much as blink at his suffering.
The current leader of the werewolf tribe was Hebaron. Even those dwelling beyond the forest knew this.
But in truth, actual control of the forest had already been transferred to Hebaron's youngest son—Romeo.
Roy's brothers, however, were deeply dissatisfied with this arrangement. Since he had been born last in their generation, they believed he should have been *last* in line for lordship.
Compared to his older brothers—some old enough to have children of their own—Roy remained merely a capricious youth, capable of reckless actions.
Graham, Roy's elder brother, had always secretly hoped his younger sibling would never find a mate. Regardless of how powerful Roy might be, such a failure would prevent him from claiming his position as lord.
"I know why you came. You wanted to see with your own eyes the companion with whom I've imprinted."
"*Crack*—!"
Roy winced, glancing briefly at his brother with an expression of undisguised disgust.
The werewolf lord's closest blood relatives were born with terrifying regenerative abilities. And unfortunately, Graham was Roy's half-brother, born within the same generation.
In other words, killing Graham would prove extraordinarily difficult.
Unless one intended to rip his head clean off…
However, this monstrous regeneration possessed certain advantages. Thanks to it, Roy needn't control his strength—because all his brother's wounds would heal. And as long as he refrained from decapitation, Graham would survive.
"*Damn it!*"
Roy understood why he felt so angry and agitated. The truth was, the person he should be with right now was *Juliet*—not Graham.
He recalled Juliet's expression in the banquet hall of the imperial palace a few days prior.
*"I'll return soon."*
That was what he always said before departing. Juliet typically smiled and wished him a safe journey—but that hadn't happened this time.
Roy had tried desperately to read Juliet's expression before leaving her, but she had only offered him a forced smile and spoken to him with palpable reluctance. This was utterly unlike the warm affection she usually displayed.
So now he was deeply troubled. He had always tried to be gentle and kind around her—but it seemed all his efforts had been wasted.
"*Kha-ha-ha*… *Gh-kh!*"
Graham attempted to laugh but coughed instead, producing a strange gurgling sound. Once the fit subsided, he rasped:
"So this human *bitch* is your companion?"
Roy didn't answer—only gazed down at his older brother with an icy stare.
Knowing he couldn't escape this situation regardless, Graham could only taunt Roy, attempting to wound him further with words.
Ever since discovering the human woman in the snowy forest, Graham had sensed something deeply wrong about her.
In truth, she hadn't been difficult to locate. Roy had left so many traces of himself surrounding her.
"*Idiot!* This human woman will bring misfortune upon everyone!"
"What?"
"This bitch possesses a *Snowdrop*! Such a woman will certainly be followed by catastrophe—!"
"…Snowdrop?"
*What is that?*
Roy tilted his head thoughtfully, studying his brother with renewed interest.
---