The male servant, who brought the body of the woman after assigned by Edward, became evident in fear, not knowing what to say. He wrung his hands together. Should he tell? If he does wouldn't Lady Daphne tell the authorities and he would get caught? But the woman was killed by the son of the family, he wouldn't get caught as he wasn't the killer, but the family has enough resources to push the blame to him, making him the scapegoat.

As if noticing the servant's fear, Daphne said, "Don't worry I will not tell any souls about this." The servant breathed out in relieved and Daphne added, "But in turn I want you to tell me whose body this is."

The servant weighed his choice, deciding to tell Lady Daphne. He had seen the lady for a few times when she visited the house and knew the Lady had a gentle soul. He decided to tell rather than be blamed by Edward and worse killed, "I... truthfully I don't know who the body belongs to. They are from the black market," whispered the man.

"Slaves, you mean?" Daphne questioned.

"No, they are a step behind slaves, like sacrifices. I think you know Lady of how vampires buy humans to quench their thirst. This woman is one of them," as he spoke, the servant watched Daphne leaving the place, her hand removing the fabric covering the body.

"Red hair," commented the lady. That was a set of color that was rare, thought the lady. "Was it Edward who killed the woman?" added the lady, her face didn't turn to the servant when asking.

"Yes, for the past few days, master Edward had chosen women with red hair." the servant didn't know what to say. Lady Daphne was without a doubt a gentle person, but then seeing the dead body didn't faze her, does the lady truly has a feeling like humans? wondered the servant in silence.

Then again all vampires never bat an eye at the dead, although it was slightly odd as the servant thought the Lady to be a very innocent person who would scream when finding a dead body.

"Do you know why?" Daphne questioned and the servant shook his head.

The servant responded by shaking his head, and Daphne only narrowed her eyes. She could tell red hair meant something. Was it possible that the woman who Edward has taken a liking to possess red hair?

Without knowing what transpires below, Edward made his way through the room and he immediately opened the letter. His red eyes slowly read the words written in the letter.

'To you, Sir Harland,

Thank you very much for your last letter. The winter had gone cold and soon the snow would come, which also mean the season for illness is near, I wish that no sickness would find you and your family. I am still uncomfortable to call you by your given name, please do understand my reason for calling you by your surname. But I do not mind if you do call me by my given name, instead, I would be happy to gain another friend.

I also wish to mention thank you very much for your congratulation, it is a test that I do not think to be amazing but to pass did make me overjoyed. Lord Ian helped me to celebrate my passing exam, and I can't wait for the day to come.

I wonder when would the snow come, last year appeared that the snow came early. It is not yet known when the snow would start, but I hope it would be before the Winter Ball held in Runalia. It would be a great deal if the snow blocked the path when the carriages in on move.

Best regards, Elise Scott'

Edward took in the words written in the paper in silence. Carriages?

Some words stood out to the vampire. He can't pinpoint the reason but could pull some conclusion— that Elise would be visiting the Winter Ball held in Runalia based on her words. And sounds from the eagerness Elise showed to wait for the day of celebration with Ian stick to his mind.

Was it possible that the man Elise love was the Lord?

Edward creased his brows. It was not possible, given the circumstances the two had where Ian was a Lord and she was a human, Elise, who is clever than her peers, wouldn't be foolish enough to stay in love with Ian while knowing the difference they had and the barrier that came within their relationship.

In a thought, Edward then called in the butler to his room, "Send a letter to Aunt Gene. Put a request to make a dress before the Winter Ball is held. And also prepare an invitation to the Winter Ball in Runalia."

"In Runalia?" It was hard for mystical beings including vampires to enter the land of humans, Runalia, but there was a way although rare and difficult to take.

"Don't make me repeat twice," Edward demanded, his words strict not allowing the butler to talk back or complain. He needs to make sure that Elise's eyes were not on anyone else. She was a prey his eyes had laid first, and Edward would not stand if anyone taking her before him. Not even if it was the Lord of Warine Ian.

On the other side of the White Mansion, in the chamber where Ian was sitting on the railings of the balcony, the sky had turned lighter with the morning slowly coming upon. Letting his black hair to be ruffled by the wind, Ian didn't do anything but hummed. Twirling his finger, he pulled a letter from empty air.

Ian turned the envelope and gazed at the letter with the name written 'From Elise Scott'.

"The poor Mr. penpal," whispered Ian with his lips twisting high, the crow he had flown over to sit across his shoulder. Ian turned his gaze at the crow, "By now he must be experiencing could nine from a forged letter. The stupid vampire who doesn't know he is playing to a tune."

After Maroon sent the letter, Ian pulled some string behind with magic to take her letter and wrote a new one where he hinted Edward to invite himself to the Winter Ball. Many people would come there, and it would be a great pity if Edward missed it, Ian thought to himself, his smile continues to widen.

It would take another hundred thousand years for the vampire to ever catch a single strand of Elise's hair, but before that happen he would die, thought Ian.

Ian pushed himself to stand, his hand reaching out to the air, and the envelope turns black when catching fire from the edge. He let go of the letter, letting the bright red flame to engulf the whole envelope, turning it to ashes.

"The play starts," Ian whispers died out to the air, his eyes crinkling in mirth while watching the ashes that mixed with the snow on the ground.