The warmth of Leon's palm still lingered at her fingertips. The Trene market square before dawn was utterly silent. A thin layer of white frost covered the stone pavement, and each step of Alicia's leather shoes made a faint sound. The eastern sky was beginning to pale, just barely. The servants of the lord's household had spent the night setting up the platform for the noon public judgment, and this morning the two of them had come to do a final check. Alicia held a bundle of documents against her chest as she confirmed the height and orientation of the platform. (That warmth hasn't faded since that night.) Her fingertips. The sensation of a warm, broad palm overlapping hers. The memory of Leon's right hand, offered in the late-night office, remained vivid even in the cold morning air. The way his voice had shifted lower when he changed the subject to work. The way his ears had turned red all the way to the tips. *This is hopeless*, she thought. *And what am I supposed to do about it?*, she thought again. "Is the platform's orientation correct like this? I angled it slightly east because I thought the light might get in your eyes if it faced south," Leon said. Leon stood at the edge of the platform, surveying the center of the square. His golden hair seemed to dissolve in the pale morning light. His 185-centimeter frame looked strangely warm even in the chilled morning air. "Considering the afternoon sunlight, perhaps a bit more north..." Alicia said. As she tried to measure the angle with her documents, the morning wind blew. *Whoosh.* Several sheets flew up from the bundle with force. "Oh—" Alicia gasped. She reflexively reached out, but it was too late. The next moment, Leon's arm wrapped around Alicia's waist, and he pressed the flying documents against his body. The two of them stopped. Leon's chest was against Alicia's back. There was almost no distance between them. His arm remained around her waist, and neither could move. Two white breaths rose from the frost-covered stone pavement, dissolving side by side. *(Too close. Far too close. My heart is being so loud.)* A few seconds felt impossibly long. Leon was the first to notice. He awkwardly released his arm and took a step back, letting out a deliberately forced cough. When he turned around, his ears were red. Alicia could tell it wasn't from the morning cold. "...I-I'm sorry. The documents are... safe," Leon said. *Yes, they're safe.* Alicia took the documents and faced forward. *(If my blood brother, a nobleman, is like this, my heart won't survive.)* Back in her previous life as an office worker, her pulse had never been this high even before an urgent deadline. That made no sense at all. "...Let's angle it ten degrees north. That way the afternoon light won't come straight at you," Alicia said. Her voice was slightly hoarse. She prayed it hadn't been noticed as she kept her eyes on the documents. Two white breaths still drifted side by side on the stone pavement of the breaking dawn. --- By noon, the Trene market square was filled with people. It wasn't a day when the market was held three times a week, but today was different. Farmers, merchants, mothers holding children, Elza the proprietress of the inn "Wheat Ear's Light," Berunt the owner of the tavern "Amber Cup"—everyone whose face Alicia had come to know since arriving in Trene seemed to be there. Victor Valton's voice, standing on the platform, spread quietly across the square. "The total amount embezzled by Valton household steward Feness Galbert is twelve thousand Resta silver coins," Victor announced. The murmur rose for just a moment, then fell silent again. Victor read on matter-of-factly. Regular payments to the Ash Ring Trading Company—the dark distribution network known as Felgrand. The conspiracy with Baron Folque, the account holder. And the official restoration of honor for Alicia Valton, who had been wrongly blamed as the true culprit behind the ledger falsification. Alicia stood at the edge of the platform, looking out over the crowd. *(Don't cry. Don't cry here.)* Her eyes burned. But they remained dry. From deep within the crowd, a thick voice rose. "My lady—!" Otto called out. It was the voice of Otto Flaha, the village chief of Flaha village on the west bank of the Minol River. The sixty-two-year-old farmer's voice was deep and resonant, cutting straight through the air of the square. As if that were a signal, the crowd that had been silent began to stir. Not applause. But the air had clearly changed. Relief, and the unique shift in atmosphere when anger that had been smoldering for so long was finally recognized in its rightful form. Alicia's hands were not trembling. *(In my past life, I cried alone and kept writing. No one was watching.)* Now, Leon was beside her. Standing right next to the platform, his golden hair caught by the wind. His presence was quietly there at her side. Just that alone made something deep in her chest shift shape, quietly. The morning of the square grew a little warmer. --- When the judgment ended and people began to leave the square, Alicia returned to the great hall to receive her appointment letter. Victor was already standing before the desk. His gentle face held an unusually solemn expression today. He took the parchment in hand and gave a short cough. "I hereby formally appoint Alicia Valton as Financial Advisor to Valton Territory," Victor declared. The parchment was placed in Alicia's hands. The moment she received it, her hands trembled slightly. *(Financial Advisor. An official position where I can act under my own name.)* No matter how many numbers she had stacked in her past life, no one had seen them. No one had acknowledged them. The back of her boss, who had turned away saying "Another late night?", flickered in her mind for just a moment. Then it vanished. Here now, there was an appointment letter with her name engraved upon it. Alicia exhaled slowly and quietly. --- After the great hall was dismissed, Leon called Alicia. The office on the east side of the second floor—the usual room where mountains of documents and a fireplace coexisted. The orange glow of dusk streaming through the window warmed the white walls. Only the small crackling of firewood in the hearth filled the silence. Leon stood directly in front of Alicia. His pale blue eyes did not look away today. His usually gentle face held a slight tension, as if he were choosing something. His right hand was offered. A large palm. A hand bearing the marks of a knight's work. The hand that had touched Alicia's waist in the square before dawn. That hand, which had gently rested on her cold fingertips that deep night. That hand. Alicia could not move for a beat. From the night they stood shoulder to shoulder in the ledger vault to the night they gathered fragments in the burned ruins—all the overlapping memories came rushing in at once. At the center of all those memories, this person's presence was always there. Slowly, Alicia's hand moved. She grasped Leon's palm in return. It was warm. Broad, certain, and strong. A warmth that seemed to transmit through each individual finger. His palm completely enveloped Alicia's hand, and for just a beat, he applied quiet pressure. Only their breathing filled the room. *(Ah, I wanted to remember this warmth.)* Heat rose to Alicia's cheeks. She made excuses to herself that it was the sunset. While making excuses, she could not tear her eyes from Leon's face. His pale blue eyes looked straight at her. That alone made her pulse quicken again. The firewood in the hearth crackled. Alicia was the first to lower her gaze. Leon released her hand. One cough. Speaking in a practical tone while looking down at the bundle of documents: "I want to reorganize the priority order for irrigation channel repairs going forward. As financial advisor, I'd like to hear your opinion," Leon said. His ears were orange-tinted. Alicia knew it wasn't from the fireplace. "Of course," Alicia replied. Her voice was slightly hoarse. The warmth of his hand still remained at her fingertips. --- Before that warmth could fade, it happened. As Alicia walked down the corridor carrying copies of documents, she saw a figure on the landing of the stairs. Galbert, flanked by two escort knights, was being led away. In that single moment of passing. The man in white gloves stopped. Cold green eyes looked at Alicia. Not the color of defeat. Not anger, not regret. A measuring gaze, quiet and appraising. "The account holder is not Baron Folque alone," Galbert said. His voice was low and clear. "Suspect those close to you," Galbert said. The escort urged him forward, and Galbert walked on. His footsteps faded into the distance. Silence returned to the corridor. Leon was standing beside Alicia. When had he arrived? His expression had stiffened slightly. The two of them looked at each other. The warmth that had lingered at her fingertips just moments before seemed to cool away. The heat of victory receded. Galbert's final words remained like a quiet wedge, driven deep. --- Night fell. As Alicia walked down the corridor, she was suddenly spoken to. "May I have a moment?" Maria asked. Maria Valton stood against the wall. Leon's sister, nineteen years old. Her dark chestnut hair was tied back, and her eyes held a shape much like her brother's. But the color dwelling in those eyes was different from her brother's warmth. Quiet, somewhat dark, always measuring. Maria had been wary of Alicia since she arrived. She had been suspicious of Alicia's sudden change from the very beginning. Alicia knew she had not earned her trust. So in this moment, the fact that Maria had approached her first was, above all, unexpected. Maria began walking without waiting for an answer. Alicia had no choice but to follow. She was led to a reception room on the first floor. A quiet room, rarely used. On the wall hung a single portrait. A young woman's painting. Golden hair, clear blue eyes. She resembled Leon—or rather, Leon resembled her. A face with a soft smile looked down quietly at them in the candlelight. "Our mother," Maria said. Maria's voice was flat. A rigid voice, as if emotion had been stripped away. Alicia looked up at the portrait. She could tell the woman had been beautiful, with a warm face, though there was also a subtle shadow, as if she were enduring something. And she could tell the woman was no longer here. "She died fourteen years ago. It's recorded as death from illness," Maria said. Fourteen years ago. When Leon was twelve. "The person managing this household's finances at that time was—" Maria began. The words stopped. Not because she chose to stop, but because it was difficult to continue. Something flickered in the depths of Maria's eyes. Something that had been stored away for a long time, trying to emerge into the light for the first time tonight—that kind of tremor. "Galbert," Maria said. Silence filled the room. Something connected in Alicia's mind. Galbert's final words returned to her. The account holder is not Baron Folque alone. Suspect those close to you. And the name of the person who had managed this household's finances fourteen years ago. *(There is something not recorded in the ledgers.)* Maria looked directly at Alicia. Wariness was still there. She did not trust her. But tonight, she had judged that there was no one else in this household besides Alicia to whom she could speak. That was the look in her eyes. "There is no one else in this household besides you who can examine the ledgers," Maria said. Her voice dropped slightly. "I want you to investigate. The financial records from when our mother died," Maria said. Alicia looked at the portrait once, then back to Maria. How long had this girl carried this question alone? She could not tell her brother. Telling him would hurt Leon. But staying silent would hurt herself.