I Have Become The Snow Maiden I Created

Translator: Marctempest

Editor/Proofreader: TempWane

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Chapter 21: The Spiral of Fate (5)

The rattling carriage seat was uncomfortable.

If it were a usual day, I would have complained.

But Artan did not do so.

“Coachman, increase the speed.”

Instead, he urged to hurry further.

The coachman flinched in shock.

“Wh-what? It’s already fast enough. If we go any faster, there might be an accident. Besides, this carriage hasn’t even been properly—”

“It’s an order. Don’t argue.”

Surely, they must have already noticed my absence.

While it would take some time to identify my destination, it wouldn’t be long.

I had to finish the task before the guards arrived.

“Ah, understood…”

At the Crown Prince’s insistence, the coachman snapped the whip.

Neigh—

The horses galloped almost at a full sprint.

The area near the ruins was uneven since it hadn’t been developed. It was during such construction that the ruins were discovered.

After rushing for quite a while, the ruins finally came into view from afar.

A spectacle of various natural disasters, colorful and chaotic.

It was terrifying, yet the excitement and determination outweighed the fear.

Today, I would accomplish a hero’s feat.

“…I will prove that I’m no child.”

And I would make them realize that they were wrong.

I was the heir to become the Emperor, a descendant of heroes.

I would ensure they understood that they had to follow my will.

With determination blazing, Artan glared at the ruins.

“…Huh?”

But an unexpected event occurred.

The strange phenomena enveloping the ruins suddenly began to disappear.

They crumbled like a sandcastle under water.

It was an odd sight.

However, Artan interpreted it favorably.

He believed the heavens were aiding him.

The ruins had recognized him and opened a path.

Genuinely convinced of this, he smiled broadly.

“What… is this!”

But life does not unfold conveniently for just one person.

With an ominous rumble, the carriage seat suddenly gave way.

His body tilted sharply downward and rolled outside.

“What…!”

What came into view was a dense forest far below.

His feet were floating in the air, and his vision spun in circles.

He was falling.

The last thing he saw was the panicked coachman leaping out and the broken wheel rolling across the ground.

The fall happened in an instant, and the inexperienced boy, untrained in real-life situations, couldn’t respond.

Fortunately, he didn’t land headfirst, but the impact was no less severe.

“Argh! Ugh, gah…”

He bounced off a rocky surface once before crashing directly into the bottom.

A terrible sound came from his ribs.

Even after hitting the ground, Artan rolled several more times. His entire body was now a wreck.

Pain surged belatedly.

It was a completely different level from the duels he had during sparring sessions with knights.

This was raw, unfiltered pain.

The agony blurred Artan’s vision, leaving him unable to even groan properly.

“Cough, who… who’s there…”

Even breathing hurt his lungs, but Artan wasn’t just any ordinary boy.

Instead of succumbing to despair, he called for help.

With his bones broken and his balance destroyed, he couldn’t use magic to escape.

If he drew on the magic currently restoring his body, he wouldn’t be surprised if he fainted on the spot.

It was his first real crisis.

It was undoubtedly frightening, but fear didn’t overwhelm Artan.

After all, he was the Crown Prince.

In terms of importance, he ranked among the top two figures in the Empire.

Surely, help would come soon.

Everyone had fussed over even his smallest injuries.

…And yet, ten minutes seemed to pass in his perception.

Still, no rescue came.

Swallowing his dry breath, as his body began to grow cold, Artan finally realized.

What he had done.

The knights who had always supported him.

The eunuchs who pampered him.

The guards who never left his side.

None of them were here.

He had abandoned them all himself.

There was no one to help him.

The moment he realized that, the color drained from his face.

The fear he had tried so hard to ignore surged up and consumed him.

What would happen to him now?

“…”

He had lived a sheltered life in a greenhouse.

When the fear reached its peak, he became strangely calm.

Artan began to observe his current situation and inner self as if from a third-person perspective.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

“What kind of strongman am I…”

The formidable shield protecting him was not his own power but fortune bestowed upon him.

Because of that, he had become obsessed with proving his worth.

Perhaps, in hindsight, it had always been this way.

He hated being weak.

He hated being treated as a child.

But even a slight change in perspective revealed the truth.

Why had the adults praised him as a genius but still treated him as a child?

Because he was a child.

-A brat.

-What?

-That’s what they call someone like you.

The voice of a childhood friend echoed faintly in his ears.

Back then, he had vented his frustration, but now he wondered if she had been right all along.

Unlike himself, celebrated as a prodigy, she was often regarded as mature for her age.

Why did those mature adults all look down on him with pity?

It irked him so much that he fixated on the sudden discovery of the ruins.

And yet, this was the result.

For the first time in his life, he felt true humiliation.

“Ugh…”

For some reason, his vision began to blur as if rippling.

Lowering his head, Artan buried his face and stifled his sobs.

How much time had passed?

Footsteps reached his ears.

“Ah!”

Was he being rescued?

Artan raised his head, his face lighting up.

In the next moment, he froze.

“…”

Snow-white hair fluttered like a frosty ocean, and piercing eyes gleamed coldly.

An unfamiliar yet breathtakingly beautiful woman gazed down at the Crown Prince with icy indifference.

Artan had never before received such a gaze.

*

The catalyst in my possession caused the nearby phenomena to vanish.

All the anomalies were triggered by the relic, so it was only natural.

With this, the mission was complete.

“Now, next.”

I had no more business at the ruins, so I stepped outside.

Artan should be arriving soon.

I waited briefly, but he was nowhere to be seen, so I began walking toward the path he would take.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

From a distance, I spotted a carriage.

Though shabby for one carrying the Crown Prince, it was unmistakably his.

I reviewed my plan.

“I shouldn’t prevent the incident itself.”

According to the record, the carriage wheel would soon fall off, causing the Crown Prince to tumble down the slope.

If my intention were simply to gain his gratitude, it would be better to save him beforehand.

But Artan himself would later describe this event as pivotal for his growth.

Today’s suffering would be the growing pains of a prodigy breaking through a barrier.

It wouldn’t do to erase it.

My role was to offer vague comfort after he reflected on himself and to escort him near the Imperial City.

“That should be enough.”

He was inherently a kind person, so he would surely feel grateful.

Soon, the carriage collapsed, and the situation unfolded exactly as expected.

The startled coachman fled in the opposite direction, just as anticipated.

If the Crown Prince sustained a serious injury, the coachman would face execution, so he was escaping.

Afterward, Artan would take rescue measures.

I followed the path downward until I could see him.

“Ugh…”

The Crown Prince’s behavior, experiencing true pain for the first time, was honestly unsightly.

Well, those in high positions have their own troubles, but still…

Judging by his tearful face, he seemed to have grasped something.

I walked steadily to the place where he lay sprawled.

Our eyes met as he raised his head.

The blond Crown Prince.

A legendary wise ruler.

His future was a smooth path, so I decided to leave a small footprint there.

“Who… are you?”

Artan muttered blankly, looking surprised.

I pondered what to say.

What could I say to win his favor?

At that moment, I remembered his goal was the ruins.

“Do you want to explore the ruins?”

My tone was a bit cold. But it didn’t matter.

It was as expected. However, I needed to add something.

Something that would immediately grab Artan’s interest…

I pulled out a catalyst and showed it to him.

“It’s already too late.”

The words came out icily.

For a moment, I doubted my own mouth and ears.

Did that really come from my lips?

Normally, I wouldn’t speak so harshly.

More than that—why did the sentence “This is a relic” translate so terribly!

Artan, who had been mesmerized by the blue light of the crystal, snapped back to his senses. His eyebrows furrowed sharply.

“What? Are you mocking me now?”

This was bad.

Today, the Snow Maiden’s settings were harder to control than usual. If this continued, I might end up creating animosity instead of goodwill.

I had to smooth things over immediately.

“Do you know who I am to say something like that— What, what is this!”

When words don’t work, actions can.

I immediately grabbed Artan’s arm, an ingenious idea flashing in my mind.

Holding onto him, I transformed into a cumulus cloud and ascended.

The startled Artan was dragged along.

“Wh-What is this?! Let me go!”

He struggled, but injured as he was, there wasn’t much he could do.

Meanwhile, carrying another person caused my mana consumption to increase exponentially.

Fearing he might fall, I ascended at top speed until the shattered carriage came into view.

After landing, I released Artan.

Looking around, he muttered to himself in a daze.

“Magic…? Turning a body into something inorganic… this is…”

His eyes widened in shock.

It was natural.

Transformational techniques that altered physical form were extraordinarily advanced and barely developed.

Transformation magic wasn’t classified as a “special ability” for no reason. It was a skill I had personally invented and implemented.

In short, transformation magic was a skill even court magicians couldn’t perform. Although it wasn’t very practical compared to its rarity…

In any case, his amazement seemed to have overshadowed his anger. I inwardly sighed in relief. Still, I couldn’t leave things as they were.

That wouldn’t accomplish anything.

This time, I decided to address the worries Artan might be harboring.

After all, having a conversation was essential to improving our relationship.

I empathized with him.

“A flower raised in a greenhouse dies when it steps outside.”

The words I murmured quietly were rather confrontational.

As I internally panicked, thinking, Not again, Artan widened his eyes.

He clenched his fists.

His hands trembled.

“…You may be right.”

Biting his lip, he shook as he clenched his fist.

“But who are you to say such things? What do you know about me?!”

His tender eyes, like budding flowers, stared directly at me.

There was no longer any light of despair or remorse in them.

Instead, they shone with heat and vitality.

Huh, for some reason, this wasn’t a bad reaction.

I decided to push further.

“There are two paths for someone born in a greenhouse.”

I extended my pale, slender fingers.

…Describing it this way feels odd, but what could I do?

They were my hands.

“One is to live a life different from weeds. Noble and abundant. Without scars, untrampled.”

My clear, melodious voice echoed softly.

Artan listened attentively, waiting for my next words.

The second is…

“If the greenhouse disappears, you’ll be incapable of anything.”

My words were brief.

But their effect was immediate.

The battered Artan’s expression was the perfect picture of astonishment.

“Which path will you choose?”

I concluded with an icy tone.

Today was one of the rare days I spoke a lot.

I should jot it down as a memo.

Artan looked as though he had been struck, his face showing both a revelation and confusion.

It was risky, but I had passed the hurdle.

This should have been enough to imprint my presence on him.

When he recalls this pivotal event in his life, wouldn’t he always think of me?

Naturally, he’d feel compelled to repay the favor.

While not perfect, I had succeeded in forging a connection.

Now, I just needed to escort him near the imperial capital.

As I was about to make a move, I heard the sound of many footsteps.

“…Huh?”

At first, I thought it was the guards stationed near the ruins or perhaps Artan’s pursuing knights.

But when I turned, what I saw was a group clad entirely in black.

Their eyes, uniformly dark and sunken, made it clear they were no soldiers of the empire.

A creeping sense of foreboding arose.

As I tried to discern their identity, one person stepped forward. To my surprise, it was a familiar face.

The woman with striking violet short hair was… the mysterious expert, Sigila.