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Someone had entered the terrace without Retina noticing. Startled by the unfamiliar voice, she turned her head. A man had approached silently, and even under the dark night sky, his hair shimmered with the same silvery color as hers.
“Who… are you?”
Retina unconsciously reached up to touch her hair as she asked. Who was this man who had the same cursed silver hair as hers, yet didn’t bother to hide it? She was wearing a wig, but his presence inexplicably made her uneasy, and she stepped back.
“Ah, I didn’t introduce myself first. My apologies for the discourtesy, my lady. I am Noden Raglas, from the Kingdom of Raglas.”
Placing a hand over his chest, Noden introduced himself. Raglas? That was the ancient royal house of the North. The kingdom didn’t prosper like the Empire—its land was barren and cold all year—but it flourished thanks to its abundant mineral resources. It was a land that had never allowed foreign invaders to set foot for centuries.
She remembered hearing that a delegation had arrived from the North a few days ago. So it was the northern prince himself who had led the delegation. No wonder he didn’t bother to hide his hair color.
Trade between the Empire and Raglas had resumed only recently, after a hundred years of silence following the war. Every imperial citizen knew the stories—after all, the curse of silver hair had originated in the North.
Retina had only heard of northerners but never met one. She’d been told they were savages with pitch-black hair, bear-like builds, faces half-covered by shaggy beards, and a taste for tearing into raw meat with their teeth. But the prince before her was nothing like the barbaric image painted in those tales.
“I am Retina Cecelica of House Deneuve. Since you bear the Raglas name, that makes you a prince, does it not? My apologies for not recognizing you sooner.”
“No, the fault is mine for appearing so suddenly and startling you.”
Noticing her curious gaze, Noden tilted his head slightly and smiled. His bangs fell down to his eyebrows, gently ruffled. If Herald Luddenheim was like the blazing sun, then Noden Raglas was like a cold, drifting snowflake.
His black eyes carried a quiet loneliness that drew her in. Retina found herself staring before she realized it. Though she wore a wig, she too possessed hair of the same color, and this shared trait made the encounter feel strangely familiar.
She knew she couldn’t judge a person by their hair alone, but just the fact that someone else shared her rare, cursed trait melted away her usual wariness. Meeting someone else with silver hair—something so rare and reviled in the Empire—made her clutch the pendant around her neck tightly.
“It seems this is your first time meeting someone from the North, my lady.”
“Yes, it’s my first time seeing one in person…”
“Your gaze is so intense, I fear my heart might melt.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean anything bad! It’s just… your hair color. I’d heard northerners usually have jet-black hair.”
Following her gaze, Noden glanced upward at the strands of his own hair resting just below his eyebrows.
“Yes. Unlike the easterners, who usually have fair hair and skin, most northerners are black-haired.”
So it really was considered a cursed color. Her eyes silently asked why he had silver hair, and he brushed the strands away from his eyes. Under the starlight, the falling strands looked like snowflakes descending just for him.
“I’ve heard that in the Empire, this silver hair is considered a symbol of a curse.”
Countless gazes had followed Noden since he arrived with the delegation. At first, he thought it was because of the old image of northerners as warlike savages. But after a few days, he understood—it wasn’t just the centuries-old war but the weight of passed-down stories that shaped those perceptions.
“I’m sorry to say this in front of you, Your Highness, but that’s true.”
Retina didn’t deny it. After all, she wore a wig to hide her own silver hair.
“But to me, it looks beautiful.”
“…Really?”
“Yes. You’re the first person in the Empire to say that to me.”
“I—I meant your hair, not you, Your Highness…”
“Yes, my hair. I know the Empire views it negatively, but in the North, silver hair is considered the blessing of the goddess.”
His voice grew firm with pride. The blessing of the goddess was tied to Raglas’s founding myth—the story of the first king and the Snow Goddess. Every nation had its legends.
“Most see it as just a myth, but northerners truly believe. And this hair color, which exists only in the North, is seen as proof.”
“But I’ve heard there are occasionally silver-haired people born in the Empire too. They’re treated poorly because people think they’re cursed, but still…”
“Silver hair only appears in the descendants of the first king and the Snow Goddess. Before the war, there were frequent marriages between the Kingdom and the Empire. Over the centuries, that blood mixed in.”
Usually, as people aged, their hair faded toward white or darkened. But the purer the royal bloodline, the brighter and more radiant the silver remained. Those misunderstood as cursed in the Empire were typically descendants of diluted bloodlines, resulting in duller, grayish hair.
“These days, only those who bear the Raglas name have the same color as mine.”
Noden stated this clearly. Retina tilted her head, wondering what her real hair color looked like under the wig—but of course, she couldn’t just pull out a strand here.
“The last noble house that carried royal blood vanished after the war.”
A house noble enough to share royal blood, wiped out completely? It seemed much had changed in the North since the war.
Even after leaving the terrace and returning inside the hall, they continued their conversation naturally. Some people recognized them, but in the bustling flow of the ballroom, no one paid much attention.
She knew she couldn’t linger too long away from her partner, but she intended to talk with Noden until the appointed time with the Crown Prince. The things Noden shared were stories she’d never hear within the Empire.
“What kind of house was the Ignace family?”
“They were a distinguished line of knights—loyal swords who protected Raglas’s kings for generations.”
“They were said to have the goddess’s blessing too, right? Then they must’ve looked almost like family?”
“No, they were distinguishable. And while their hair might have been similar, their eyes were said to be different.”
Standing tall, Noden leaned toward Retina and pointed at his own eyes. She met his gaze—her reflection was clearly visible in the dark irises.
“Records say their eyes were as blue as a sunlit lake sparkling with ripples.”
Like your own clear blue eyes, my lady.
He smiled with a playful tilt of his lips, straightened, and stepped back into the shadows, perhaps to hide the faint flush on his ears.
“Do you have no questions for me other than about Raglas?” he asked.
“Hmm… let me think.”
Her hesitation made it obvious she was more curious about the North than about him. Noden’s face drooped, his shoulders slumping pitifully like a drenched puppy.
Or maybe more like a drenched puppy than a mouse, Retina thought, resisting the urge to pat his head. His bright black eyes and silver hair made him look just like one of those fluffy Samoyeds noblewomen loved to keep as pets.
So much for northerners being inherently fierce and wild. Noden was nothing like that. Realizing she’d been interrogating him the whole time, Retina quickly apologized.
“I’m sorry. I was rather rude, wasn’t I?”
“No, I wasn’t fishing for an apology. I just… got jealous that you seemed more interested in my kingdom than in me…”
“Pfft!”
His face turned bright red as he looked away in embarrassment. Retina couldn’t hold back her laughter and burst out laughing right in front of him.
“Did I really ask that many questions?”
“Yes. I approached you hoping to talk, but instead of me, you sounded like you were questioning a cultural studies professor about Raglas.”
“That’s fair. I’ll reflect on that.”
A “professor of Raglas cultural studies,” he said. Retina grimaced, remembering her academy history professor rattling off textbooks word for word. What a thing to be doing with a prince at a ball.
“But I still enjoyed talking with you,” Noden said gently, smiling to ease her embarrassment. It was clear he liked her, but he also didn’t want to burden her.
“Your Highness,”
She stopped him as he was about to leave. He had tried to mask his disappointment at her seeming indifference, but he paused at her words.
“I also enjoyed our conversation.”
His eyes widened in surprise, then curved into a bright smile. He kissed the back of her hand in farewell, glanced past her shoulder with a sly smile, and disappeared into the crowd.
Retina turned to see what he had looked at, tilted her head, then shrugged. The third dance of the night was already underway, couples spinning around the ballroom.
“Oh! The third song!”
She clapped her hands, remembering her promise to the Crown Prince. She turned to hurry toward the cake table where they were supposed to meet—when a shadow fell over her.
“So, the Raglas prince is your secret brother or something?”
