What are you doing, Yuri Solzhenitsyn?

Not yet. You can’t bare your fangs at your grandfather just yet. The warning siren rang in his ears, but Yuri still looked him squarely in the eye.

There was no fear, no hesitation. In those clear eyes gleamed the hostility he had hidden for so long. Maxim’s brows rose at the defiance.

“If you won’t do it, then I will. I’ll cut open the beast’s belly myself.”

“......!”

The words were chilling, and Yuri’s shoulders stiffened.

“Yuri, do you think I’m tormenting you?”

Maxim kneaded the back of his grandson’s neck with his rough hand.

“I’m teaching you.”

He grabbed Yuri’s hand and forced it, guiding the knife to slice into the beast’s belly. Yuri thrashed in rebellion, but the old man’s strength was terrifying. He felt the stomach split beneath the blade, flesh peeling back in long strips.

Maxim stabbed mercilessly into the muscle, ripping out the stitches one by one. His low voice rumbled behind him.

“Do you think I was unaffected when I lost Ivan?”

“......!”

Yuri’s face went blank. His grandfather had not spoken his father’s name once since his parents’ death. Six long years, and suddenly Ivan’s name passed his lips.

“Yuri, never let hatred show on your face or in your words. It’s dangerous. It’s foolish. At times it makes you look ridiculous, even base.”

“......”

“Why would I not have wanted to rage? Why do you think I didn’t?”

His hand stabbed deeper, cruelly puncturing the hide.

“Never reveal your emotions. In this world, only cold-blooded creatures carry poison.”

“......!”

When the last stitch came free, the entrails spilled out—along with something else. Yuri clenched his teeth, swallowing the urge to retch, but hot tears still burned his eyes.

It was a corpse. Inside the split belly lay the body of an unknown child. Yuri’s face twitched violently.

“――”

Without thinking, he looked to the feet. Small, callused, blackened soles.

His trembling hand reached out, clutching the foot. It was cold. Rough. Yuri’s face contorted, breath breaking raggedly.

Different. They weren’t his little mouse’s feet. But the flicker of relief was quickly drowned in a flood of self-loathing. With bloodshot eyes, Yuri glared at Maxim.

“Grandfather...! What on earth are you doing in Winter Castle!”

“As always, I work for Russia.”

“For this? For this foulness?”

Yuri seized a handful of thick snow and hurled it into his grandfather’s face.

“You made my parents die—on my birthday!”

“......”

The snow burst across Maxim’s shoulders and cheek. He simply brushed the wetness away, his face as unreadable as ever.

“Yuri, in this world there will always be rulers plagued by anxious paranoia.”

“Don’t feed me that nonsense!”

Yuri’s eyes blazed, his voice hoarse and metallic.

“From the moment I married Dariya, I was on trial. Again and again, I had to prove my loyalty to the motherland. Everyone suspected that Maxim Solzhenitsyn, bewitched by some black-haired woman, might become a traitor.”

“......”

“So I swore to make Russia stronger than ever. For over forty years, I dedicated this Winter Castle solely to the motherland.”

“I don’t... I don’t understand a thing.”

He didn’t want to hear it. No excuse his grandfather gave could soothe his broken heart. But those cold eyes pierced him like a spear.

“Don’t mistake this, Yuri. Do you think offering choices is generosity from the powerful? No. The Kremlin only controlled me.”

“......!”

“Never let the word ‘choice’ deceive you. It sounds like a fair game, like we too have freedom—but in truth, it is a method of control that paralyzes thought.”

“......”

“People feel comfortable when their options are few. They never realize they’re being controlled. That’s why the bird that walks into the cage on its °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° own sings more beautifully.”

“Then if you saw through all of this—why...! Why did you abandon Father!”

Yuri’s voice cracked as he screamed. Maxim’s hand clamped around his grandson’s jaw, now grown firmer with age.

“Because you were still a child.”

“......!”

“I had to play the fool and pretend. I needed time. Time to raise you properly.”

“Don’t you dare say it was because of me!”

“This is a warning, Yuri.”

Maxim bent down, meeting his eyes. His breath smoked in the cold as he pronounced each word.

“A ruler never forgives a man who schemes rebellion.”

The silence was icy. Maxim’s gaze was steady, locked deep with Yuri’s.

“A ruler is always looking for an excuse to eliminate the subordinate who outshines him. Always thinking of replacing him with someone dumber, less threatening. Do you know how many Kremlin spies are crawling here?”

“......!” 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

“The one inside the beast’s belly... was none other than a Solzhenitsyn.”

The words spun in his mind, impossible to grasp. He felt himself tangled in a food chain, looped endlessly.

“Your vacation is over, Yuri.”

Maxim Solzhenitsyn turned his back without hesitation, as if the lesson was finished.

The stench of corpses clogged Yuri’s nose.

That night, Yuri lingered in Ivan’s room, face pale. The horrific end of the black-haired child he’d seen that day would not leave him. His head throbbed.

Then at least one. He would free at least one child, piece by piece, from this Winter Castle. The thought consumed him.

But Yuri was only fourteen. Far too young to grasp all of Maxim Solzhenitsyn’s grand design, the mind of a prime minister, a renowned political theorist.

Still, today he felt he had glimpsed something of his grandfather’s true nature. And if now... if now the Kremlin itself was to be betrayed—he couldn’t even imagine it.

So when the tiles beneath him shifted again, Yuri didn’t hesitate. He opened his suitcase.

“I’m sorry, kid. Just bear with it a little.”

“......!”

Before the child could react, Yuri threw himself onto the lid, holding it down. The boy kicked against the suitcase wall, but Yuri clenched his jaw and yanked the zipper shut.

“Let’s leave this mansion together.”

“――”

At his whispered words, the child’s struggles quieted.

“I’ll take you out soon. See the mood light in there? Don’t be scared. Just play for a bit.”

In the silent night, Yuri made up his mind to run away.

Clack, clack. The suitcase wheels rattled across the garden.

But the estate’s guards patrolled in shifts, at both the front and rear gates. No matter that he was Solzhenitsyn’s grandson—sneaking out at night with a suitcase would look suspicious.

As expected, a guard with a sharply squared jaw blocked his path.

“Young master, what brings you here?”

“You’ve been working hard.”

Yuri beamed, shaking the man’s hand. The guard’s eyes widened at the feel of banknotes slipped into his palm. When the man furrowed his brows uncertainly, Yuri spoke lightly.

“I’m just going to the lake for a bit.”

“...The lake?”

The guard’s eyes flicked to the skates hanging from Yuri’s neck.

“It’s too late. May I accompany you?”

“......”

Yuri’s brow twitched. Just then, there was a thump from the suitcase. The guard’s sharp gaze dropped downward. Yuri lifted and set the case down again, as if scolding the child inside.

“Young master... forgive me, but may I check inside the suitcase?”

“You’ll regret it if you do.”

“......”

“Do you know what’s in here?”

Enough talk. Open the gate. Yuri’s voice was cold. The guard bowed and did as ordered, but Yuri’s face only grew darker.

Damn it. They know. The moment I step out, there’s no doubt word will reach Grandfather.

But Yuri bit his cheek and refused to stop walking.

“――!”

He had no idea how he managed to run without resting, not once. As soon as he reached the lake, he ripped open the suitcase, scooped the boy onto his back—only to have his hair yanked.

“Fine, hold on tight to that.”

The child, who had been throwing fits, suddenly gasped in awe when Yuri laced up his skates and sped out onto the ice.

The rushing wind blew everything open. The boy threw his arms high above his head and burst out laughing. The tinkling sound made Yuri’s skates wobble.

“Kid, you...!”

That sweet little voice drenched his chest. He nearly hit the brakes, but he couldn’t—any moment his grandfather might be after him. He gritted his teeth and pushed faster.

Even then, the child clung tight around his waist, bouncing against him.

“Don’t wriggle, you’ll fall!”

At that moment, clatter—something dropped to the ice. Yuri’s spine went cold, but it wasn’t the boy. It was the mood light, slipped from his grip.

The switch must have been pressed, because the music box inside began to turn, spilling a simple melody.

Light spilled across the frozen lake, the night sky shining back at them.

“Waaah...”

The boy’s whisper tickled his ear.

Red, orange, yellow light blanketed the ice. The blades scraped, sliced, and under their feet a carousel spun.