Screeeaaammm!!!

“...Ah…ah…aaaaahhhh!!! Stop! Stop!”

“Kill me! Please kill me, I beg you!”

“...”

The screams of the dying clung to her heart, leaving scars that wouldn’t fade even after a thousand years.

The witch, despite her efforts to forget, would often awaken to the death cries of her sisters.

These mornings of endless nightmares tormented her without warning or pattern.

Years of suffering passed, and at some point, the witch began calling those cursed mornings “The Beast’s Night.” On such days, she would retrieve a doll hidden beneath her bed, stain it with drops of blood, and recite incantations.

Soon after, animals near the royal palace would begin to die packs of stray dogs on one day, the king’s cattle another, or even the royal lion he cherished.

It wasn’t out of vengeance but desperation.

She hoped that the cries of the animals might drown out the screams of her sisters in her mind.

Surprisingly, it worked for a time. But lately, she had stopped.

She had found something far more effective.

“Haah...”

The witch let out a sigh into the empty air.

To someone in the royal palace, her sigh would have been like a desperate prayer they yearned for.

“…Hero.”

She deliberately called him by a distant title. If she didn’t, she feared he might come too close and claim her neck as his own.

She had already failed to maintain their distance several times, surrendering pieces of her flesh to his teeth.

Thankfully, his teeth were still those of a child, leaving no lasting scars.

But there was no guarantee that the hero would remain a child forever.

To be honest, the signs weren’t promising.

Having parted ways with his companions, the scent of a grown man now emanated from him.

“I wonder… have the children grown much?”

Feeling a pang of unease, the witch moved to the window, pretending to check the crow’s nest.

She wished to see their chicks, but the crows perched there screeched sharply at her instead.

Perhaps rain was coming.

Looking up, she saw the sky was thick with gray clouds.

The scant sunlight that escaped was no more than a handful.

It already feels like night.

Thinking that, her thoughts wandered back to him.

Because he always came to her under the cover of night.

And so, on such a dark day, she found herself wondering if she might see him again.

“Ah…”

The thought brought another dry sigh to her lips.

The sudden blemish in her heart prompted her to murmur her wish to the crows once more.

“Waiting is hard.”

…

“I really want his heart.”

She wanted his heart.

So, she decided to steal it.

“...”

But why?

Every time she tried to steal his heart, her own—frozen and still—seemed to tremble.

The heavy sound of raindrops began to strike the window. The rain flowed down, leaving long, tear-like streaks on the glass.

Was the sky weeping for the season of loss? The sorrow seemed contagious, carving holes in the princess’s heart. Unable to endure her loneliness, she came to me each day, clinging tightly to my arms.

“It’s cold, isn’t it?”

“Yes… It feels colder every day.”

“I guess the warm days are gone now.”

“Yes, winter must be coming.”

I answered plainly, as if stating a fact.

Outside the window, it already seemed as though white snowflakes were beginning to fall.

The thought of the world blanketed in white naturally reminded me of a woman with white hair.

The princess, eager for my attention, repeated the words she had said countless times over the past few days.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind being the bride of winter.”

“...”

“It might be a little cold, but you’ll keep me warm, won’t you, Alpheus?”

Her words, almost like a spell, were meant to entangle me. Ever since my party had disbanded, the princess had been trying to bind my heart with those very words.

Some might say it’s just talk, and I should humor her lightly. But repeated words often become a curse, so as always, I pushed her away a little.

“Princess, you’ll make an excellent queen.”

“And you’ll be a great king, Alpheus.”

“That’s not certain.”

“If you marry me, you’ll have no choice but to become one.”

“As I’ve said before, I’m not…”

“Look, Alpheus! Over there, a bird flying in the rain.”

Before I could finish, the princess changed the subject.

Perhaps it was her desperate attempt to solidify her future, refusing to take even one step back.

“A crow. Several of them, actually. Could they be a family?”

“Probably. I saw them nesting by the window a while ago.”

“You really know everything, Alpheus. Where are they? I want to see too.”

“By the window of the queen’s chamber.”

“...”

My words seemed to choke the princess.

She must have been filled with countless thoughts and imaginations.

Looking at the storm in her eyes, she muttered softly, “I hate birds.”

“Crows?”

“No, anything that flies. Ever since that day, I hate them all.”

“…Ah.”

“But it’s okay when you’re here, Alpheus.”

Clever. She used her trauma to ensnare me further.

But I knew better. If the princess was trapped by something, it wasn’t the dragon—it was me.