The inside of the carriage merely jolted slightly. As expected, this place, the capital—not some remote mountain village with fields or a coastal area with the sea—is rife with paved roads, high-level intellectuals, and people who are busy tearing each other down in jealousy and spite.

Maria leaned against the window and looked outside. The streets, covered in a thick layer of white snow, formed a black-and-white contrast. To put it poorly, the city was drab and dark. With beggars fighting each other in the back alleys, perhaps the capital is no different from the countryside after all.

Why on earth is Maria struggling through the empire's biting winter to pass through the capital?

First, because she had to come up to the capital from her rural coastal home for a while due to her husband's business, and second, to see Guest, her brother.

Guest, ah, Guest. The boy of the Koeffner family! The child who shows excellent talent in music just like me. My hateful and beloved brother. While I was learning how to be a good mother instead of performing and composing just because I am a woman, you lived freely, doing whatever you wanted to your heart's content.

She was heading to Guest's shabby house. The further she went toward the outskirts of the capital, the more the air felt bone-chilling, and the white snow was turning gray as if soaked in ink, dirtying the streets.

She paid the coachman a small amount of money and stepped out of the carriage. What she saw was a shabby inn on the outskirts. It showed clearly how her brother was living. As she stepped inside, a somewhat warm but still cool air greeted her, and she climbed the stairs with difficulty, clutching her skirts.

Upon reaching the door, she panted slightly. Her chest rose and fell as she chased the air.

Damn it, I should have climbed more stairs to be used to this!

Finally, she takes a slow, deep breath and knocks exactly three times on the wooden door.