At precisely four in the morning, in a modest house nestled within Kinamon Village—part of the Huadina colony under the rule of the British Kingdom—a young man stirred from his sleep. He lay naked beneath the covers, his wheat-toned skin faintly illuminated by the moonlight slipping through the window. His medium-length brown hair framed a face marked by striking, deep blue eyes. His physique was lean and muscular, the kind that spoke of discipline and training.
Beside him, a young woman slept, also unclothed. The closeness of their bodies and the disheveled sheets spoke clearly of what had passed between them before sleep claimed them.
She had a bronzed complexion and simple, dark hair. Her build was average, neither frail nor athletic—unremarkable in most ways, yet there was a quiet softness to her.
As the young man slipped out of bed, his movements stirred the girl from her slumber. Blinking sleepily, she sat up and asked, her voice tinged with concern, "What's got you up at this hour?"
He didn't answer at first. Silently, he gathered his clothes and began to dress. His outfit was composed of a crisp white shirt, over which he layered a soft cotton coat with subtle blue lines trailing down the back, paired with white trousers that matched the ensemble.
Once dressed, he turned to her and offered a faint, almost wistful smile. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "There's something important I have to take care of."
"Can't it wait?" she murmured, a note of longing in her voice. "Stay with me… just a little longer."
Her words faded under the warmth of his smile—but there was something strange about it. A smile not of comfort, but of contradiction: kind, yet cold; gentle, yet distant.
"Don't worry," he said quietly, "I'm not going anywhere."
The reassurance in his voice clashed sharply with the unease that crept into her chest. Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean you're not—"
But she didn't finish the sentence.
A sudden, biting chill swept through the room. The air itself seemed to freeze. The warmth of the bed, of their shared night, was gone in an instant.
Her gaze locked on his face just as his foot touched the ground with a quiet yet deafening thud.
Then came the words that turned her blood to ice.
"Ice Age."
---
After finishing his training session with Mr. Matt, Musa sat alone in the university garden, waiting for Emilia to come out. As he waited, his thoughts began drifting once again toward his recurring dream—and that strange novel.
The same questions kept circling in his mind. 'Was the novel really the reason my dream changed? Or... could it be because of that mysterious man who's been following me? That stranger knew about my dream without Musa ever telling him. How?' Musa couldn't make sense of it.
'There are only two explanations I can think of' . 'Either my sister, Bethel, visited that Donovan before I did and told him about my problem... or he's one of those so-called "gifted" people with strange abilities Who we were told about'
'Honestly, I still find it hard to believe people with supernatural powers exist. But then again, my life's strange enough already—maybe it's easier to just accept it. There are tons of rumors about that group, "After death" They say it's full of people with unnatural powers... Hmm...'
His thoughts spiraled deeper and deeper until a new one struck him—and it made his heart skip. 'Emilia... She has an incredible ability to observe, memorize, and process details—almost unnaturally so. Could she be one of them? Is that the kind of ability those people have?'
'Damn it. I'm starting to think like someone who already believes in all of this.'
'And then there's the changing book cover... I still need to read more to confirm it, but if the novel really is tied to my life, then what about the author? Roma Cecil... That would mean she's involved too. Damn...'
Musa's mind churned with tangled thoughts—about the dream, the seer, the novel—until a familiar voice snapped him out of his daze.
"Did I keep you waiting long?" Emilia asked, approaching with her usual calm presence.
Musa smiled the moment he saw her, brushing the chaotic thoughts to the back of his mind—for now.
"Not too long," he replied simply.
"So, what's the plan?" Emilia asked.
He paused, then cleared his throat awkwardly. "No idea."
She burst out laughing, then gave him a playful scowl. "You asked me to meet you without even having a plan? Weak. At least treat me to something."
Musa stood up from the bench, a goofy expression on his face. He turned his pockets inside out dramatically.
"Behold my wealth," he said with mock pride.
"You poor soul," Emilia teased, placing a hand to her forehead in exaggerated pity before grinning. "Alright, alright—I'll treat you this time."
Musa and Emilia's relationship had always been effortlessly genuine—simple, honest, and refreshingly equal. Whether one of them had money or not never mattered to the other.
They'd long established an unspoken rule: whoever had the means would cover the expenses, no questions asked. Sometimes it was Musa. Other times, Emilia. Their bond was less like the traditional dynamic between a guy and a girl, and more like the easygoing friendship of two close friends—whether boys or girls—who truly understood each other's circumstances and respected them.
"This time, you pick the place," Musa encouraged her with a small smile.
Emilia thought for a few seconds. Then her eyes lit up. "Come on, there's somewhere I want to go."
"Where to?" Musa asked, surprised by her sudden enthusiasm. But she just grabbed his right hand and tugged him along, eyes still gleaming with excitement.
"Just come," she said, leaving no room for hesitation.
It wasn't like Emilia to get this excited about going places—unless it had something to do with knowledge. Libraries, academic lectures, museums… those were her thing. So naturally, Musa's first guess leaned in that direction.
"Let me guess… a museum, maybe?" he asked as she led him along.
Emilia shot him a puzzled glance. "Why a museum?"
He paused to think. "You're usually only interested in places that offer some kind of intellectual value—like libraries, classrooms, or museums. And since we're already in the University, the first two are out, especially since you were already at the library. That just leaves… museums."
Emilia blinked, then stared at him with exaggerated disbelief. Her eyes fluttered comically before she put on a pair of fake tears and said, "Am I that predictable?"
"Even more than that," Musa replied with a grin of victory. "So, which museum are we visiting today?"
"We're not going to a museum," Emilia said, promptly shutting down all his deductions. "Who said my life revolves around knowledge only? I can enjoy other things too, you know."
Musa looked at her, his eyes silently saying, "Stop lying." But all he said aloud, still wearing that look of confusion, was, "So, where are we going?"
It was strange for him to see Emilia excited about anything besides studying. He began to wonder, 'Is she sick? Hmm... maybe she's finally lost it from all that studying and decided to change things up?'
"I told you, just come with me. You'll see when we get there," Emilia replied, her eyes still gleaming, urging him forward.
Musa didn't press further. He simply sighed, smiled, and let himself be led by Emilia, who was still holding his right hand.
She continued to guide him off campus, across the bridge, and then flagged down a private carriage. They both got in and took their seats as Emilia told the driver, "Western District." The driver gave a nod and started moving.
The transportation system in the Kingdom of Britannia consisted of two types of carriages: public and private. Public ones followed fixed routes and fares regulated by the government—like the one Musa had taken earlier to get to the university. They could hold about 20 seated passengers and 10 standing.
Private carriages, like the one they were in now, were smaller, usually meant for two or three people. Their destination wasn't fixed, the price was set by the driver, and they were significantly more expensive, even for short distances.
"Why are we going to the western side of the city?" Musa asked. "Isn't it just a farming district?"
"That's right, it is mostly farmland," Emilia answered casually. "But why we're going there… you'll see."
"Alright, alright. I get it," Musa replied with a huff.
Thirteen minutes later, the carriage reached its destination—the western outskirts of Rivaren. Musa and Emilia stepped out and were immediately met with the sight of vast, open farmland.
There were fields of corn, vegetables, fruit trees, and even large flower fields stretching far into the horizon.
Emilia grabbed Musa's hand again and began pulling him forward. "Come on, come on!" she said, picking up her pace, her eyes still sparkling with excitement.
Musa didn't say a word. He simply followed her, until eventually, a large two-story house appeared in his view. It stood in the middle of a field of flowers. The house was massive—more like a mansion—and clearly belonged to someone wealthy. But…
"We're here," Emilia said, then added under Musa's puzzled gaze, "That house is our destination."
"Whose house is it?" Musa asked. The first thought that crossed his mind was that it might belong to Emilia's family. Her family was wealthy enough to own several properties, but she'd never mentioned one out here in the western district. That thought made him feel a bit disappointed.
Emilia didn't answer immediately. She kept leading him until they stood right in front of the house. Up close, it looked old—worn down, almost dilapidated.
"It doesn't belong to anyone," Emilia finally answered.
"Huh?" Musa blinked. "What do you mean it doesn't belong to anyone?"
Emilia kept her eyes on the house as she replied, "This place used to belong to a noble from the Teresia family—one of the great houses from a thousand years ago."
"Well, you know I'm not exactly an expert on history like you," Musa said with a shrug. "So what's special about the house?" Then, realizing something, he added, "Wait a second… isn't this still related to knowledge? You tricked me!"
"Whaaat? What are you even taking about?" Emilia said, her face shifting into a playful frown. "What does this have to do with anything? Just let me finish."
Musa gave her a helpless nod, and she continued, "Some say this house is haunted. Anyone who enters never comes back. It's as if they're forgotten completely."
Musa stiffened slightly. "Well… they're just rumors, right? You don't actually believe in ghosts, do you?"
"Of course not," Emilia said. "But a lot of people have talked about strange things happening here. There's an old man who once said he entered this house with his three sons. Inside, they encountered strange beings—ghost-like creatures straight out of myths. He claimed they took his sons and threw him out. But when he went back to his wife… she told him they never had any children"