“Hey, Yuri. Can’t you invite us too, to the Prime Minister’s mansion?”

Yuri, who had been flipping through a book, lifted his head.

“If I don’t get to go again this time, my dad’s gonna beat me to death!”

“Yeah, me too, me too...! Let me in on it too!”

The kids, sloppy in both manner and appearance, swarmed around Yuri in an instant. Yuri Solzhenitsyn carried the handicap of mixed Asian blood, yet his jet-black hair only drew the eyes of his classmates all the more.

He had skin without even a single pimple that a boy his age ought to have, chilly irises that mirrored Prime Minister Maxim’s, a broad, well-built frame and a low voice unbefitting a freshman. Wherever he went, he stood out.

“They say your house has more than a hundred bathrooms...!”

“......”

“How about, during break, we all sneak around together and explore the place?”

“...Explore?”

“Y-Yeah...! You probably haven’t been through every room in the house yourself!”

“......”

When Yuri didn’t respond, the classmate faltered.

“There’s bound to be at least... one room even you don’t know about, right?”

Yuri Solzhenitsyn looked the model student on the outside, but if anyone crossed a line, he was merciless—whether it looked polite or not.

A few days ago, some kid named Boris had been showing off, bragging that no one had more hair down there than him, and dared Yuri to compare. He even went so far as to reach for Yuri’s waistband.

Without so much as a flicker of alarm, Yuri had twirled his mechanical pencil, and somehow Boris didn’t show up to school for two days.

Rumor had it he’d been stabbed in the bellybutton with a pencil lead, or that he’d been seen in the hospital, but Boris kept his mouth clamped shut.

Yuri wasn’t just handsome, he was beautiful, and so plenty of kids tried to drag him into lewd jokes. But he never once slipped into rudeness, never even by accident. He only smiled faintly in that strange way of his.

These days, the only entertainment in class was filling in the log about who’d had a wet dream, yet Yuri, whenever that came up, acted like some socially defective freak. Some even muttered it was disappointing that, even when pissing, he never let anyone see his cock.

Sometimes there was an outline visible in his pants, but since he never acted childish about it, approaching him was a hassle. Even though they were destined to ride the escalator together straight into university, they felt a wall early on.

At that moment, another boy strolled up and leaned his elbow on Yuri’s desk.

“Hey, Yuri, do you like black hair by any chance?”

“......”

“Prime Minister Solzhenitsyn went and made that shocking marriage with an Asian woman. Guess tastes are hereditary, huh?”

God, what a clueless idiot.... The classmates glanced around in unease, trading nervous looks.

“Since none of us ever dream about black-haired girls, you could dream of them for us and tell us about it. Everyone’s just waiting for the day you open your mouth, whether they admit it or not.”

“I haven’t come yet.”

“Huh?”

“My cock leans way the fuck upward, so I still have to wait and see.”

“...What?”

Did Solzhenitsyn just say what I think he said? Cock...? Cock?! What the fuck does he mean, his cock...? The fact that such a filthy word had just come out of Yuri’s mouth made his classmates’ eyes bulge wide.

“Dream or not, I’m not wasting it on stupid shit.”

He laughed as he flicked his classmate’s hand off his desk.

***

“A beast that carries its young, that’s what you should take down.”

When the holidays came, Yuri went down to Winter Castle and was handed a long hunting rifle. His grandfather had decided it was finally time to teach him hunting, since the boy’s knees ached every night from growing so quickly.

“Power possesses a property closer to God than anything else. Don’t try to judge good and evil—train your eyes only to pick what is necessary, Yuri. Today, choose the hardest prey to catch, the hardest thing to kill.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

Crunch, crunch. When his grandfather vanished into the snow, Yuri’s smile vanished with him.

His eyes, flat and void of feeling, wandered the birch forest. He let out a long yawn, his face full of nothing but boredom.

Hunting, shooting—he could probably do it well if he learned, but it wasn’t his taste. He would rather stay home, reading politics in silence. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

The world was too noisy, lying was too easy, and most of all, he hated sweating.

He trudged along the snowy trail for who knew how long, just killing time.

“――”

Then suddenly, he spotted tiny tracks dotted across the snow. Dragging his feet without much enthusiasm, he poked his head into a burrow.

Inside, several hairless, slick rabbit kits huddled together. Their mother, eyes burning red, ears pricked, stared back at him. A strange silence filled the air.

“......”

He immediately checked the mother’s belly. It was hollowed, her body collapsed on her side—it looked like he’d come too late.

What now...? His throat bobbed as he sighed heavily.

Scratching his forehead, Yuri stacked bundled branches carefully over the burrow.

Then he set off again, boots sinking deep into the snow.

“Shit, this is bad.”

The sky, clear just that morning, was filling with dark storm clouds. A blizzard was coming. Swearing as if relieved, he quickened his pace.

These days, wearing the mask grew harder. The more openly vulgar his peers became, the more suffocating it was. They compared cock sizes, bragged about pubic hair, poked at his nerves.

“This is driving me nuts. Why the hell am I the only one without any hair?”

The more he thought, the more absurd it felt. His father, as far as his memory served, had not been hairless.

So was it his mother’s side, or his grandfather’s genes? But asking Maxim Solzhenitsyn about pubic hair was out of the question.

With his cock already curving upward, if the hair problem stacked on top, he’d be branded defective in an instant.

“Fuck... haaa...”

So when he’d seen those bald, furless rabbits, the image of his own bare cock came to mind, souring his mood.

Even the pale pink color was eerily similar. Yuri rubbed his face furiously with both hands, irritated.

Rustle, rustle―.

Out of nowhere, a sound carried from afar. The young Solzhenitsyn narrowed his eyes, sharp and wary. Leaves shivered, rustle, rustle.

He tilted his head skyward, then lowered his gaze again. All across the snow were countless tracks. But they weren’t bear, or deer, and certainly not rabbit or cat.

“They look like... baby feet.”

The words escaped his mouth, but unease twisted his brow. There couldn’t possibly be a child here at Winter Castle.

Looking closer, there weren’t only footprints—handprints sometimes dotted the snow too. A bizarre, inexplicable sight.

What kind of creature was this?

Too big for a bird, too heavy for a rabbit. It seemed to climb trees well. Didn’t it have horns too?

Even as he wondered, the unsettling rustle continued just a few meters ahead. Before he knew it, Yuri was running hard enough for sweat to bead.

“Huff... huff...”

Wait. This way ends in a cliff. He had to stop now, turn back.

“――!”

But there—something was perched on a branch. Whether a young beast or a red fruit, he couldn’t tell, but it swayed under the pounding snow. At that rate, it would fall and die. His body moved before thought.

He barreled across untouched white ground, heavy breaths spilling, heart hammering strangely fast.

Not a fur cap, not winter gear—a grotesque mask. Toes frozen blood-red. The closer he came, the less distinct its form became.

Filthy, uncanny. He couldn’t tell what it was.

“......!”

It balanced precariously like a young animal, but what wavered there was a thin, small child. The shock struck him like a blow to the skull.

Round eyes glinted through the mask, its lower half barred like a cage to let breath through.

Then, the small lips parted. That strange creature quietly caught the falling snowflakes in its mouth like grains of rice—

And Yuri raised the hunting rifle on his shoulder, aiming straight at it. His mind went blank, hollow.

“Choose the hardest prey to catch, the hardest to kill.”

As his grandfather’s cold words brushed his ears, he pulled the trigger. Bang—! But the beast, like an illusion, leapt nimbly toward him.

“――!”

The heavy head of the creature dropped into his arms upside down. The bullet had missed, of course. Tossing his gun aside, Yuri instinctively reached out.

At least it hadn’t fallen over the cliff—thank God for that. In a daze, he clutched it as they tumbled down the slope together.

“Ugh...!”

Suddenly the weighty mask bashed his forehead, bang, bang. The child’s rough hands clamped hard on his throat.

“Wait—stop, fuck...!”

Kuhh, kuhk...! He clawed desperately at the crushing grip, but this wasn’t mere strength—it was raw killing intent.

Never before had Yuri been struck by such naked intent to kill. His limbs went limp, eyes rolling back.

The smooth mask cracked bit by bit. He was really going to die. Not by Maxim Solzhenitsyn’s hand, but by some raw beast like this....

“――!”

Blinking painfully through fluttering lashes, Yuri saw the feral black eyes falter. Their tumbling slowed, breath echoing harshly between ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) them.

In an air where even the wind seemed to freeze, a piercing stare devoured him. Drool slipped from the child’s gaping mouth.