Eileen actually knew.
‘Master hasn’t just given Lillian a “glance.”‘
‘I have already seen that Master has long since stolen Lillian’s “heart.”‘
‘But how could things in this world be so simple?’
‘Master merely took a fancy to an excellent “material.”‘
‘And this material just happens to be completely devoted to Master?’
‘Impossible. Absolutely impossible!’
Even though Eileen saw the reality before her eyes, she refused to acknowledge it.
She told herself to stay calm.
She followed Master’s wishes, making the completion of the mission her highest priority.
Everything that happened within this space seemed completely incapable of interfering with anything in the physical world.
Whether it was the swaying of the wind or the movement of the flowers and trees, nothing had any effect.
Lillian didn’t even know why she had appeared here.
It was a tiny village.
Inside, there were fewer than six households.
Adding everyone together, there were fewer than ten people.
It was such a “village” that had consumed a full 1 hour of Lillian’s time.
How could this be?
Eileen stood beside Lillian, walking with her as they explored this snowfield.
No one else could hear or see what Eileen said.
Only Lillian could communicate with the “people” of this place.
Lillian asked, “What is going on here?”
A native inhabitant replied, “I don’t know. It has been like this since I was born. Tens or hundreds of years have passed, and it’s still like this.”
Looking at the desolate snow and the few simple igloos, Lillian felt only a sense of bleakness.
The most miserable meal she had ever seen had been dry bread.
But today, she witnessed that there were actually people in this world who ate such simple food!
The people in the village were eating ice and fish bones that had long since been stripped down to the tail.
Lillian immediately felt a surge of pity.
However, she was also powerless to help.
She wanted to ask the people here why their diet was so simple, but there were no extra people in this little village to answer.
Most of them were simply Dwarves.
Lillian continued forward, walking out of the settlement and into the uninhabited wilderness.
She couldn’t believe there was actually a settlement in this world composed only of igloos.
She saw a troika driving slowly across the snowfield.
Three brown horses pulled the carriage.
A Dwarf driver sat on the carriage, shivering.
Eileen tried to stop the carriage, but it was useless.
The driver seemed not to see her at all.
In fact, he couldn’t see any of Eileen’s movements.
Lillian imitated Eileen’s actions and signaled for the driver to stop.
The driver stopped and asked Lillian where she wanted to go.
Lillian informed the Dwarf driver of her destination.
“I want to go to the Blacksmith Village.”
The Dwarf driver nodded and agreed to take Lillian to her destination.
Along the way, the wind and snow swirled.
Yet, Lillian saw that the carriage driver remained in a state of sorrow.
Lillian asked, “What are you sad about?”
The Dwarf driver didn’t answer but started humming a song.
Looking at the troika speeding across the ice, the driver lowered his head.
He sang a mournful song of sorrow.
He sang it softly.
The passenger, Lillian, asked the driver why he was so sad.
Why was he sighing alone?
How could his song be so desolate?
The driver replied:
“Kind traveler. My love is being tormented. I have loved her for nearly 1 year. I only hate that the Noble blocks us. I can only hide the pain in my heart. Seeing that the New Year is approaching. My beloved no longer belongs to me. The cruel Noble is going to take her away. I am powerless.”
Listening to such a story, Lillian felt very conflicted.
She didn’t know how she could help this grieving Dwarf.
It wasn’t the first time she had heard such a story, but it was truly the first time she had seen it in reality.
The Dwarf driver continued his tale, “The cruel man is going to take her away. She will have no more joy in this life.”
The driver silently tucked away his whip and stopped speaking, sticking it into his belt.
The carriage driver poured out his grief.
He didn’t know what to do.
From now on, he and his lover would be worlds apart, and he had no way to stop it.
Lillian herself was a Noble.
Her past life was built like that — relying on plunder.
Lillian remained silent for a long time.
The carriage continued forward on the snowfield, the wheels making a crunching sound as they crushed the snow.
She looked at the driver’s hunched back.
There were three or four patches on his worn-out cotton coat, the stitching thick and coarse, likely sewn by himself.
She thought of her own former life.
The balls in the Royal City were always brightly lit.
Those young Nobles vied to invite her to dance and offered silk and spices transported from the distant East.
She had seen a serf’s daughter being taken away by a lord; the sound of the girl’s crying hadn’t even reached the dance floor before it was drowned out by the band.
What was she thinking back then?
She hadn’t thought of anything.
That was merely the most ordinary of occurrences.
“The girl you love,” Lillian heard her own voice say, “what is her name?”
The driver’s shoulders shifted, but he didn’t turn around.
“Marishka,” he said, his voice so low it was almost swallowed by the wind.
“She would wait for me at the village entrance every evening. But yesterday, someone came to deliver a message, saying there was no need for her to wait anymore.”
Lillian didn’t know what to say.
Subconsciously, she glanced back — Eileen was still sitting in the corner of the carriage, staring at her with a grim expression.
In that gaze, there was scrutiny, hostility, and something Lillian also recognized.
“Will you fight?” she asked the driver.
The driver gave a bitter laugh, the sound more unpleasant than crying.
“Fight? Against whom? That Noble has thirty servants and five guards. I only have this horse, this troika, and a pair of frostbitten hands.”
Another silence followed.
The snow fell harder, and the road ahead gradually blurred.
Lillian watched the snowflakes landing on the driver’s shoulders, one by one, accumulating into a thin layer that he didn’t even bother to brush off.
“I used to be a Noble too,” she said suddenly.
The driver’s back stiffened for a moment.
“I never considered how the people plundered by my father, my brother, and myself lived. I thought it was a matter of course.”
Lillian’s voice was very soft, as if speaking to herself.
“I no longer believe that was right.”
The carriage jolted, and the driver tightened the reins.
“You are a good person,” he said, his tone as flat as if he were talking about the snow.
“I am not.”
“You listened to me tell these things, and you said you understood.”
The driver’s back remained hunched, but there was something in his voice now, like a root that hadn’t died beneath the frozen soil.
“That is enough. If anyone else heard it, they would only tell me to drive the carriage faster.”
Lillian opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn’t find the words.
The carriage continued forward through the blurry white haze.
After an unknown amount of time, a few lights faintly appeared ahead.
The driver let out a low whistle and slowed down.
“The Blacksmith Village is here,” he said.
When Lillian got off the carriage, she fished out several silver coins from her pocket and pressed them into the driver’s hand.
The driver looked down at them and shook his head.
“This is too much.”
“Take it.”
Lillian turned to leave, but after two steps, she stopped and looked back at him.
“That girl, Marishka — if there is still a chance, don’t let go.”
The driver didn’t speak.
He simply tucked the silver coins into his chest and picked up the whip again.
Lillian stood at the village entrance, watching the troika slowly disappear into the wind and snow.
The driver’s singing could be heard from afar.
It was still that sad tune, but for some reason, it didn’t seem quite as cold this time.
Eileen stood beside her at some unknown point.
“You gave him money,” Eileen said.
“Yes.”
“It’s useless. You’re interfering with this timeline. And where did you get the money?”
“I don’t know. I wanted silver coins, so they appeared in my hand.”
Lillian interrupted her.
“I thought I should give him some money.”
Eileen looked at her with a complex gaze.
The wind and snow at the village entrance gradually lessened, and the clanging of hammer strikes could be heard from the blacksmith shop.
Lillian took a deep breath and walked toward the sound.
She didn’t know where Lord Atiste was, what secrets this strange place held, or what her meager bit of kindness could change.
But she suddenly wanted to try.
Even if it was just to let a grieving carriage driver have one more silver coin to hold in his palm amidst this eternal, unchanging snowfield.
Eileen stood where she was, watching Lillian’s back.
She still disliked her, but for some reason, she suddenly understood a little bit why Master had spared Lillian a second glance back in the Muse Royal City.
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