Home/The Ice Age Came? And I Just Got Married?!/ch 8

Chapter 8.

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Whoosh—

Outside Rosebrook.

Faint bell sounds drifted through the blizzard.

Soon, a black silhouette emerged across the white snowfield—a snow sled bearing the crest of the House of Cheshwind.

The hunting dogs tethered at the front were emaciated, their ribs showing.

And the man riding the sled was in even worse condition.

His fingertips were black with frostbite, and the others who had been riding with him had long since passed away.

Whenever they died, he buried them in the snow to lighten the sled, leaving behind only their gloves or personal effects as keepsakes.

Tears that froze the moment they fell—he had swallowed his mourning and pressed on.

Logan's aide, Nathan, gripping the dogs' leashes, clenched his teeth.

At least with the sun up, he could move while bundled in winter gear. If the sun set, he'd be in real trouble. He needed to find shelter soon.

Because once night fell, it was impossible to move around outside.

[Welcome to the Port City of Rosebrook.]

Finally, the sign marking the city limits came into view.

Nathan's eyes welled up.

He should have heeded Logan's warning to head for Rosebrook before the world ended.

If he had, none of them would have had to suffer this life-or-death ordeal.

Still, thank goodness the Duke left behind the dog sled and well-trained hunting dogs.

Nathan had even participated in a northern expedition project before. Back then, he'd ridden dog sleds across the snow to his heart's content—something rarely seen in the south.

"Are you the type who values principles?"

That was the first question Logan had asked when they met. At the time, Nathan had said he valued flexibility over principles.

In conversations with nobles, one should emphasize principles and etiquette—so he'd thought he'd made a mistake.

But Logan had actually liked that about him.

"Serving me is the same as serving Lady Everhart. Keep that in mind at all times."

Logan and Lady Everhart had no apparent connection.

They did attend the academy together later, but even then, they didn't exactly interact.

Yet Logan would speak as if the two of them were practically engaged.

By now, he's probably at that mansion with Lady Everhart—no, the Duchess of Cheshwind.

Even Nathan hadn't expected the two of them to actually marry.

Just a week before the disaster, Logan had warned him to leave for Rosebrook—but then the royal court had reached out.

An inquiry about Logan's marriage. It was indeed unusual for a ducal house to announce news in the papers without first notifying the Crown.

At the time, Nathan had thought he'd exercised excellent flexibility, handling a matter more important than Logan's warning.

The very flexibility Logan liked.

But when the disaster truly struck, Nathan realized his decision had been wrong.

If he ever saw the Duke again, he would apologize first. But before that, he had to survive.

He gritted his teeth and tugged the dogs' leashes.

---

After a considerable commotion.

Logan and I sat back down across the table, drinking tea.

Fortunately, my body showed no abnormalities.

Except for the fact that I could now directly use the Redstone's properties myself.

I stared at the teapot, then reached my finger toward the tea candle beneath it.

Click—

A spark shot from my finger and lit the candle.

"Wow."

I felt like a mage.

What in the world is this?

Winterstones were not absorbed by the human body. You had to carry them with you at all times—I remembered many survivors complaining about the inconvenience.

But it had been absorbed into my body.

And I could use it as if it were my own power.

Moreover, it seemed that the amount of Redstone absorbed determined the magnitude of the power.

"...Ha."

Logan ran a hand over his face in confusion.

"Nothing like this has ever happened before."

Hearing him mutter, I understood his bewilderment. On his tenth regression, facing something for the first time—of course he'd be unsettled.

I recalled the different types of Winterstones.

If I absorbed all of them, would I actually become a mage?

As I entertained that carefree thought, I suddenly wondered about side effects.

I looked down at my hands. My body felt gently warm—almost to the point of feeling a little hot?

"Eve, any other unusual symptoms? Any strain on your body?"

"Not so far."

At my answer, Logan finally let out a breath of relief.

He kept checking my hands and complexion—and I realized, suddenly, that his face had come very close.

Yes, no matter how chaotic the world was, we were newlyweds who had been far too chaste—

Rustle, rustle—!!

Just then, the baby squirrel began fussing.

Logan and I sprang apart as if we'd been burned.

The squirrel was at the greenhouse entrance. Standing before the door, it chattered toward the outside, as if something was bothering it.

"Chippy, what's wrong?"

Chippy was the squirrel's name. I knew it from the novel. Logan hadn't named it—the author had revealed it through an omniscient perspective.

What was surprising was that this creature, despite its prickly, temperamental demeanor, would calm down when called by name.

Sure enough, the squirrel, which had been full of annoyance at our closeness, now politely clasped its tiny paws together and looked up at me.

Anyone watching would think it had always been a well-mannered baby squirrel.

Then, with an obedient expression, it tapped the greenhouse door with its bean-sized paw.

Logan, who had been watching silently, spoke.

"It seems like there's something outside."

Could it be people from the Cheshwind household?

Agreeing with Logan, I opened the greenhouse door.

Chippy politely stepped aside.

As the guardian of the greenhouse, it couldn't leave its boundaries—but it peeked out, watching us.

Stepping out of the greenhouse into the headman's garden, I turned toward the mansion's gate.

Just then, Logan stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Wait. Someone's there."

Logan drew his greatsword in an instant.

His gaze turned deadly. And it wasn't just his eyes—the whole atmosphere changed.

I knew it stemmed from overprotectiveness, but standing next to him, I felt like I might get cut too, so I took a few steps back.

And then—

Knock, knock.

Someone tapped at the gate.

"...Is any... is anyone there?"

It was a voice on the verge of death.

'Huh? That voice sounds familiar.'

It reminded me of Marcus Winston Rutland—that senior from the academy who used to bother me with his slick, syrupy remarks.

"That voice sounds just like him..."

Just then, as if sharing the same thought, I heard Logan mutter in irritation—and I was certain.

"You think so too, right? That's Senior Rutland's voice."

"I'll check it out."

Of course, overprotective Logan stepped forward.

Clank— Creak—

Logan opened the front door.

And there, collapsed beneath the doorway, lay two men.

"It really is Senior Rutland!"

I scurried up behind Logan and reached toward the unconscious man.

But I couldn't touch Senior Marcus. Logan had already scooped him up like a sack of potatoes.

"He could have some disease—don't touch him. You're frail, so stay twenty steps back."

At Logan's reply, I was at a loss for words.

"Are you treating people like germs?"

"Eve, strictly speaking, it's this guy who's being treated like a germ by me. Everyone except me is a potential murderer as far as you're concerned. Remember that. Trust no one."

Having spent so long alone with just the squirrel, I'd nearly forgotten—but it seemed he had blackened far more than I'd realized.

I shook my head and looked at the man collapsed beside Marcus.

"That's Senior Rutland's aide. Let's bring them in first."

At my words, Logan shot the two of them a look of pure annoyance, sighed, and dragged them inside.

He dumped the barely-breathing pair in front of the fireplace like sacks of luggage and lit the fire.

For all his complaints, Logan was still a man with abundant humanity at heart—someone who, if asked, would always help.

If I could fully absorb Winterstones and use their power freely, maybe Logan wouldn't have to be so anxious.

And then, perhaps he'd return to the Logan full of warmth and humanity.

If that happened, maybe he wouldn't become the villain of this story—wouldn't be killed by the protagonist, Crown Prince Aiden.

As I was thinking this, Marcus faintly opened his eyes.

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