As tradition dictated, the closer it got to Saint Andrew’s Eve, the fiercer the cold became.

Even on cloudless days, warmth was a stranger outdoors. The sun seemed to shiver behind the clouds, hiding from the coming blizzard, sparing only a few pale rays to glint weakly atop the tall clock tower and spires. The great bell hung silent.

Since morning, sparse snowflakes had drifted down. Most roads were glazed with ice, making carriage wheels crunch and snap. One careless step, and pedestrians would slip.

With the holiday nearing, Soul Valley Town nestled among the mountains buzzed with life. Lanterns and ribbons adorned every corner. Apples, hidden away all winter, now glowed ruby-red—stacked like candied haws on skewers.

On the top floor of Saint Peter Orphanage, Lia hunched her shoulders, rubbing her hands together and breathing warm air onto her fingers. Her nose reddened from the cold.

The charity-donated rags offered no defense against this freeze. Layered like stuffed sacks, they only made her look bulky without trapping heat. After days of bitter cold, several children had fallen feverish—and they had no money left for medicine.

This dilemma weighed on Lia. The headmistress ignored the sick, insisting they simply endure. But Lia, who lived among them daily, couldn’t turn away. She had savings—hidden where no one knew, told to no one.

That money was her escape fund. She planned to flee this frozen hell with a boy named Yihan, to find warmth and start anew.

If she spent it on medicine, who knew if it would even cure the orphans? Worse, the headmistress would discover her hidden stash. That was forbidden. A beating would be a mercy; the real terror was losing every coin she’d saved—and any chance of ever leaving.

Her heart grew heavy. What grated on her nerves more was being summoned to the headmistress’s office first thing that morning.

Alone.

Her mind raced with fearful guesses. She couldn’t refuse, though.

She dragged her feet to the office door, hesitating long before finally knocking.

"Enter." The headmistress’s voice rasped from within, grating and dry.

Lia took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Warmth enveloped her instantly. The opulent office blazed with heat from an ancient fireplace, flames dancing high with sharp *crackles*. A massive wine cabinet dominated one wall, filled with expensive bottles bought with charity funds. A spotless white wool rug covered the floor—so plush even booted feet sank into its softness.

Compared to the orphans’ freezing dormitory, the contrast was worlds apart.

Disgust coiled in Lia’s chest.

The towering, all-black-clad headmistress reclined in her chair. Seeing Lia, her withered face stretched into a false smile. "There you are, Lia. Come closer."

The girl forced herself forward, muscles tensed to flee.

But today, the ever-hypocritical headmistress didn’t reach for a cane. Instead, she lifted a gift box from her desk and thrust it into Lia’s hands.

"Open it."

Lia’s gaze flickered down. Slowly, she lifted the lid. Inside lay an evening gown in deep crimson and burnt orange. Its neckline shimmered with translucent lace and gold tassels. Intricate pleats fanned across the skirt like roses poised to bloom at dawn, glowing vivid under the candlelight.

Tucked in one corner were sheer black stockings and deep red heels, waiting for her.

Lia stared wide-eyed. She’d never seen anything so exquisite—least of all from the notoriously stingy headmistress.

*Did someone gift this to her? Too big to wear? But she’d sell it, not give it away…*

Her thoughts tangled.

"Well?" The headmistress’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, pleased by the flicker of joy in the girl’s stare. "It’s your Saint Andrew’s Eve gift. I expect you to wear it for the performance. Let everyone witness your brilliance."

Every Saint Andrew’s Eve, Soul Valley Town hosted a grand banquet and show, inviting every prominent figure. It was also a major charity ball. Saint Peter Orphanage always attended—the perfect chance for donations. The headmistress would select the prettiest orphans to sing or dance, charming the local nobles for extra rewards.

Lia had performed many times. It felt routine.

But this dress… it must have cost a fortune. Why would the headmistress part with it so easily?

As if reading her mind, the headmistress crouched down, her bony fingers reaching for Lia’s cheek. "This year’s show needs something… different. Singing and dancing are dull." Her dry lips curled. "Lia, I never noticed before—you’ve grown into quite the young lady. Tsk tsk. Such curves… even thick clothes can’t hide them."

Lia recoiled as if avoiding contamination, eyes flashing with alarm. She instinctively covered her chest, then remembered—*she’s a woman too. What does it matter?*

The headmistress’s hand closed on empty air. Unfazed, she straightened up, her tone turning sharp. "The dress is yours. But that doesn’t excuse you from work. Fetch matches from the storeroom. Slack off, and you’ll regret it."

Lia bowed quickly, relief flooding her. She fled the room, slamming the door behind her.

The biting cold rushed back, making her shiver and sneeze hard.

Yet her excitement didn’t dim. Leaning against the door, she opened the box just enough to glimpse the gown, then snapped it shut again.

She didn’t need a mirror to know how brightly she was smiling.

The headmistress’s demand about the performance? She’d already let it slip from her mind.

The moment she saw the dress, one image filled her head: herself radiant in it, captivating every eye…

No. Not every eye. Just Yihan’s.

Only then did she realize how little she knew about him—where he lived, where he came from. He kept secrets, appearing and vanishing without warning.

*How would she even find him?*

*He promised to find me,* she reminded herself. *I’ll trust him.*

Her heart lifted. Clutching the box to her chest, she hummed a childhood tune and skipped downstairs.

Near the storeroom, she nearly collided with Louise and Luna.

The two girls—whom she’d taught a harsh lesson weeks ago—huddled together as always, heads down in their grimy rags, shuffling listlessly.

Spotting Lia, they flinched and scrambled aside, terrified the flames might leap at them again.

Lia walked past without a glance. Since that day, they’d never bothered her again.

At first, she’d feared revenge—whispers about what happened. She’d stayed tense for days. But silence held. She’d relaxed.

*Just cowards. A little scare, and they shut up.*

Only when Lia’s ash-blond hair vanished around the corner did Luna’s face regain some color.

"Hey," she whispered, tugging Louise’s sleeve. "Did you really tell the headmistress?"

Louise’s eyes still held fear. "Mm-hmm…"

"What did she say?"

"Nothing. Just told me to post a notice at the newspaper office. Said Soul Valley Town has a ‘miracle worker who commands fire’."

"What’s that mean? What’s she planning?"

"I don’t know. Just… stay far from Lia. Don’t get involved. She’s a monster."