After finishing the meal that had felt like walking on thin ice, Yuri went up to his room and opened his parents’ belongings again.

His parents’ wedding photo and a stethoscope. Against the backdrop of a beautiful lakeside, his mother’s veil fluttered in the breeze, and his father smiled as though he owned the whole world.

Anyone who saw this picture would have their gaze stolen in an instant. And so, the boy slammed the frame down again and again.

“――!”

Glass shattered, his parents’ photo fell, the frame dangled in tatters.

“...What the hell was I even expecting.”

But there was nothing special. Nothing at all. Just an ordinary frame.

For a moment it felt like he had lost his mind.

“Haa....”

Frowning, Yuri gathered the broken frame back together.

Why am I like this?

His composure had started to crack ever since he’d met that beast.

If he went around saying that only he could see a baby beast in an iron mask hanging around before his eyes, word would spread that the grandson of the Solzhenitsyn family had finally gone insane.

Already, he’d shown his grandfather disgraceful sides more than once. This vacation was truly cursed.

So he had to reveal the thing’s true nature, as quickly as possible, to shake off this endless self-disgust. Even if it meant tearing up the floors, he had to catch it and demand, just what are you?

When Yuri raised his head after a rough splash of water across his face—

“......”

His eyes fell, without meaning to, on a cheap, thick cardboard box. Old, yellowed, a box of keepsakes no one had paid attention to.

Drawn as if possessed, he reached out. He didn’t even know what he was looking for—his hands just moved on their own. Yuri, with an odd expression, quickly tore it open.

When at last he flipped the box upside down, his eyes widened and froze.

‘There must be at least one room even you don’t know about.’

It was a set of blueprints.

Dozens, hundreds of branches dug underground like roots of a tree.

“Young Master, what brings you down here?”

“Could I get some herbicide and cleaner?”

“Eh? Young Master, whatever for...?”

Looking straight into the eyes of the aging steward, Yuri spoke the excuse he had prepared.

“Grandmother’s been feeling low. I thought I’d try planting some flowers in the garden.”

“Ah, for Madam...! Yes, yes, just a moment!”

Herbicide contained copper sulfate, cleanser contained phosphoric acid. Mixed, the two could corrode through a wall. With that conclusion, Yuri stood before one of the countless doors.

A door painted blue, tucked away in a corner.

Simple curiosity.

What could his father, who’d grown up in wealth, have lacked so badly that he siphoned off Russian assets? His father had no talent for multiplying money, but he wasn’t the type obsessed with it either.

So why, knowing how dangerous it was, had he done such a thing? Six years later, only now did Yuri feel curiosity about his parents’ actions.

What was this blueprint for?

Large estates often had bunkers or panic rooms for emergencies, but even accounting for that, he’d never seen or heard of anything like this.

It was like a warren. Yes, this was a deliberate tunnel system beneath Winter Castle.

If his parents had left this to him, there had to be a reason. And since he was under house arrest anyway, the boy wandered the vast mansion, checking with his own eyes the points his father had marked.

But if solving his parents’ riddle put him at odds with his grandfather....

He must never live like his father.

“......”

No. This was something else. If there were ant nests, they had to be eradicated. If rats were found, their tails had to be cut off.

Expression chilling, the boy grasped the «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» doorknob and turned.

He felt certain that every move of his was being reported to his grandfather, but the more that seemed true, the more deliberately he prowled the mansion—sleeping sprawled anywhere, reading, cleaning.

Maxim hated impudence and insolence, but Yuri made sure to show it to him all the more, wanting to appear a thoughtless, rebellious adolescent.

Meanwhile, he steadily sprinkled the mixture of herbicide and cleanser into the Blue Room.

One step, two, three... thirty-eight steps from the door. One tile left unglued.

Too small for an adult body, so he poured in the chemical solution. The floor slowly corroded, a hole opening, and at some point, a space caved in like a sinkhole. Yuri covered the trace with carpet and a sofa.

A week later, one night, he brought out his father’s stethoscope. Removing the earpieces, attaching a microphone—everything was ready.

The boy, with only a flashlight, was determined to follow the invisible path wherever it led.

“――”

As time passed, his senses dulled. It must have been an hour at least.

The stench of rotting moss and mold stabbed his nose. Wet mud fouled his slippers instantly. Oxygen was scarce, his breathing strained.

Yet Yuri pressed forward. He couldn’t tell what the gravel-like crunch underfoot was. Sometimes he turned back, debating retreat, but he couldn’t stop here.

The passage was sinister. No matter how far he walked, there was nothing to see, nothing to hear.

Every so often, he stepped on fallen doll eyes, broken rocking horses. Gasping like an asthmatic, he clenched his teeth and trudged on.

By now it was a battle against himself. His damp hair clung to his nape, foul air clogged his throat.

His tense legs stumbled against stones, but he pressed on, hand against the wall. His slippers fell apart, useless; his bare feet stung, cut by something unseen.

How far he walked through that black darkness, he didn’t know.

“Fuck... what is this.”

His flashlight illuminated only a solid wall. His lips, pale and cracked, tasted iron from split skin. The path ended, absurdly.

Yuri couldn’t even laugh. He hurled the flashlight at the wall. Fuck...! Slumping to the frozen ground, he spewed curses he would never have dared utter before others. Still, he didn’t feel any relief.

What had I expected? Winter Castle’s secret? My parents’ will? Maxim Solzhenitsyn’s weakness? ...No. None of that.

Yuri just wanted to be an adult. To sprint down the shortcut, to wake one morning fully grown into a Solzhenitsyn. But the wall said otherwise. Impossible.

“Th—”

“...Bro—”

Did I mishear? Yuri narrowed his eyes. He pressed the stethoscope to different parts of the wall. No... was it just illusion? He closed his eyes, exhausted—

“Don’t die.”

“――!”

A child’s voice struck straight into his eardrum. Goosebumps burst across his skin.

“Why do you keep going out without a word? You’ll get caught again like last time, and starve!”

“Yeah... I was going to die... like my siblings... I was going to...”

“You’re awful. I hate you so much...!”

“This time I was going to fall from the highest place, without a rope....”

“...Please, don’t....”

“It was amazing. I forgot for a moment.”

“......”

“I was shocked. The snow, it was... how do I even explain it....”

“You mean the snow piled up?”

“Yeah...! Something like that... snow fell on me... I was buried in it....”

“You’re not hurt?!”

“It was clean and beautiful.”

Listening in, Yuri grimaced. Even with the microphone attached, the sound was too faint, breaking with static. Russian and Korean tangled, impossible to follow. Fuck, I should’ve fixed it better!

“For the first time... it didn’t hurt. For the first time....”

“......”

“I got hit, but it didn’t hurt. Kiya, there are people in this world who hit without pain.”

“There’s no such person.”

“There is. Want me to show you? Turn your back....”

“Ahk...! That hurts!”

“Brother... Sister... my head hurts....”

“Mm... Sis..., me too....”

“I’ll keep searching until we meet again....”

“Don’t go...!”

Soon, more voices joined in. All children’s, never adults’.

Yuri shifted the stethoscope, desperate to hear clearer, but only caught more static.

Who are those children?

The first word that leapt into his chilled mind was—

Human trafficking. There was no worse scenario he could imagine.

“You don’t look well this morning.”

Maxim’s words struck like a rebuke at his pale grandson. Yuri, scraping the rough inside of his mouth with his tongue, sipped his tea as if nothing was wrong. He knew his complexion had worsened from restless nights.

“I hear you’ve been tending the garden lately, for Dariya?”

“Yes.”

“Planting is less important than knowing where to dig, Yuri.”

“......!”

He froze, gaze snapping up. His grandfather’s blank face had not moved, his eyes fixed on him all along. Even setting down the teacup, it clattered unpleasantly.

“Dig carelessly, and everything collapses. Disturb an ant’s nest, and order crumbles in an instant. What belongs underground must remain buried.”

“......”

“Otherwise, before planting a single flower, your hands will already be stained with poison.”

Yuri felt like he sat on a bed of nails.

“You grasp principles quickly—you understand me well.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

Beneath the table, the boy clenched his fist and smiled silently. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

“I will become a Solzhenitsyn.”