The night was deep, in the east side room on the third floor of Red Tide Castle.

The warmth from the underfloor heating kept the chill at bay outside.

But Sif on the bed curled up even tighter.

Wrapped in a thick blanket, she looked up at the ceiling, her cheeks slightly flushed, her deep blue eyes sparkling with a hint of confusion.

"Who would like a Southern Barbarian!" she muttered to herself, gritting her teeth, "Despicable, shameless, always smiling like a cunning fox..."

Yet no matter how she warned herself, that person's image just wouldn't go away.

In her mind, the scene replayed: the gentle, unhurried way he talked to people.

The careful yet confident manner when taming "Leng Feng."

And that one time...

He looked up at her and smiled, the sly curve at the corner of his eye made her heart skip a beat.

"Damn it..." Sif sat up sharply, fiercely threw the pillow to the floor, her silver hair falling messily on her face due to the motion.

"Damn Louis...!"

She cursed softly, a slight tremble in her voice.

The scene of Louis fainting that day, the feeling of standing helplessly outside the door waiting, also pierced her nerves repeatedly.

Sif's hand unconsciously reached for her chest, fingertips gently touching the cold silver pendant.

It was the only relic left by her mother.

Memories surged back like a tide.

That distant night, the firelight reflecting on her mother's face, as she sat in a fur chair, teasingly speaking of her and her father's youthful past.

"If a woman from Cold Moon is moved, she will hunt, like an Ice Wolf biting down and not letting go."

"Did you think your father could catch me? Ha, I kissed him first, and back then he jumped like a scared deer, even his face turned red."

Young Sif only found it amusing, laughing until she couldn't straighten up.

But now, she suddenly understood the meaning behind her mother's words.

She bowed her head, looking at the silver pendant between her fingers, softly muttering, "Is this... what it feels like to be moved?"

Her cheeks then turned red, as if baked by the stove, like an apple.

"Ahhh!" she exclaimed, diving headfirst into the blanket, covering her head forcefully: "No, it can't be... he's not my type at all!"

She clearly preferred the cold, silent men, those who are only gentle to her.

But Louis, that guy, glib, likes to put on airs, sometimes even childish...

Yet precisely detailed understanding and tolerance, humor, frankness, calm and reliable in situations, making one unconsciously dependent...

"I... I just see his potential!" she defended herself, huddled in the blanket, "I just need a reliable helper on the road to revenge."

But even she could hear how laughable this excuse sounded.

A few seconds later, the room fell into dead silence, as she still hid in the blanket, motionless.

Suddenly, Sif threw off the blanket, her movements as agile as a leopard.

She jumped off the bed, barefoot on the warm wooden floor, striding toward the wardrobe without hesitation.

"I can't deceive myself any longer." She stood in front of the mirror, raising her head to scrutinize carefully.

Her short silver hair was slightly messy, the pale skin accentuating her features, her deep blue eyes cold and clear, the close-fitting clothing outlining a delicate curve.

She knew she was the most beautiful woman in the Northern Lands.

She finally exhaled slowly, as if making some decision, then turned to walk toward the door, her steps decisive and firm.

Like a hunter stepping out of the snow, catching up with its prey.

Yet before exiting, she still stubbornly muttered under her breath: "I'm just going to confirm... confirm if he has the guts."

......

The night was already deep.

Louis took off his heavy formal attire, changing into comfortable loungewear, and sat cross-legged on the bed casually.

In front of him was a dim little oil lamp, its warm yellow light casting the room in half-light, like shrouding it in a quiet dream.

He lowered his gaze, his breathing long and steady, focused on the flow of energy within, trying to capture that faint trace of magic power.

Just as he was getting into the state, a light knock came from outside the door.

"Knock, knock."

Following that was the slightly deep voice of the attendant: "Sir, Miss Sif requests to see you."

Louis opened his eyes, a hint of surprise flashed in them.

"So late?" He hesitated for a moment, then spoke, "…Let her in."

The door was pushed open.

A night breeze quietly slipped in, bringing with it the unique chill of the Northern Lands' night.

Sif was wrapped in a heavy cloak, her silver hair shining slightly in the firelight, her cheeks reddened by the cold night wind, her breathing slightly rapid, as if she had run all the way here.

"Sir..." she stood at the door, her voice very low.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Only the oil lamp made a faint "puff, puff" sound, casting two restless shadows.

"Is there something wrong to find me this late?" Louis spoke first, his voice calm and gentle.

Sif pursed her lips, glanced at him with a complex look, then quickly lowered her head, her hands tightly clutching the hem of her cloak.

"Is there something wrong?" Louis asked again.

Sif gathered her courage and said, "Do you think... I'm only here for business?"

Louis was taken aback, not understanding, and his Adam's apple moved instinctively.

The room was unexpectedly quiet, only the faint sound of the oil lamp flickering could be heard.

Sif took a deep breath, a complex light flashing in her eyes.

"Swoosh—"

She suddenly unfastened her cloak, and the heavy cape slid to the ground with a "thud".

Louis's pupils contracted sharply.

Because Sif was wearing only a close-fitting undergarment, her slender figure exposed in the warm light of the oil lamp.

The pale skin unique to the girls of the Cold Moon Tribe shone with delicate luster in the dim light, carrying a wild beauty but also a clear sense of shyness.

Her breathing seemed slightly more rapid than before, her cheeks so red they nearly bled.

"I... I like you!"

After speaking, she seemed ready to explode, turning her head sharply and clutching the cloak, struggling to breathe.

"Don't get me wrong! It's not because of how good you are... just... just because I..."

Louis was stunned for a few seconds, looking at this proud little wolf before him.

Usually calm and composed, she now carried a stubbornness close to despair as if using all her strength.

His mouth curled into a smile unconsciously: "So, you sure you're not here to hurry me for the winter supplies list?"

Sif's already flushed face turned even redder instantly, huffing coldly, glaring at him: "I really regret not bringing a wolf today… let it bite you and see if you can still laugh!"

Louis chuckled, finally standing up from the bed, his gaze growing more serious.

"Well... Xiaobai." He slowly opened his mouth, his eyes deepening, "Did you come today wanting me to respond?"

Sif took a deep breath, a stubborn blush on her face, but her steps did not retreat.

"I came to tell you." She gritted her teeth, her voice lowered, "I'm not the kind of person who waits for others to slowly come around.

If you do nothing... then I'll leave here. Then, you will never see me again."

Louis looked at her stubborn appearance, his heart warmed.

He lightly chuckled, the teasing in his eyes completely fading away.

Stepping forward, he slowly raised his hand, his fingertips lightly touching the silver hair scattered behind her ear.

"Sif."

The two were almost pressed together, able to hear each other's rapid breaths.

She did not back away, instead instinctively held her breath, her eyes evasive yet stubbornly raising her chin.

"Idiot..." she whispered tremblingly.

"Hm." Louis's voice carried a hint of laughter, low, yet extremely gentle.

He slowly pulled her into his arms, his hand lightly wrapping around her slender waist.

Lowering his head close to her ear, his tone with a slight smile: "Actually, I like you too... for a long time."

Then he lowered his head and kissed her.

This kiss was slow but firm, with no room for retreat.

Like a suppressed emotion for a long time, finally unabashedly pouring out at this moment.

Sif's eyes widened, her body slightly trembled.

She never expected Louis would kiss her so directly.

But soon, she also closed her eyes and trembled to return the kiss.

The movement was somewhat awkward, like a little wolf hunting for the first time, clumsy yet fervent.

Her mind was almost blank, her heart racing wildly.

Is this... what it feels like to like someone?

Her fingers tightly grasped Louis's collar, as if afraid he would disappear if she didn't hold tight.

Their foreheads touched, breaths intertwining.

"I was clearly the one who came first..." Sif murmured in complaint, her voice still panting, the tips of her ears so red they seemed about to bleed, "So... how did you become the one taking the initiative?"

Louis chuckled lowly, reached out to hold her tight, with a non-refusal force, pulled her to sit by the bedside.

"You know," his voice was deep and husky, carrying a suppressed emotion, "the next step... do you know what it means?"

Sif's heart raced like it would leap out of her chest, her cheeks burning. She bit her lip, her eyes flickering but did not retreat.

"It means I won't run away anymore." That voice carried determination, small yet incredibly clear.

Sif moved close to Louis's ear, her sapphire eyes sparkling.

"And it also means..." Her lips brushed Louis's ear, her breath slightly trembling, "...you can't think about running away either."

The air quieted down, leaving only their increasingly rapid heartbeats.

The fire gently flickered, flames dancing on the walls, casting their tightly pressed silhouettes.

At that moment, the chill of the Northern Territory was no more.

Leaving only their body temperatures, fervent breaths, and the feelings that could no longer be hidden.

They no longer tested with words, but exchanged their long-suppressed emotions through the most genuine touch, the closest distance.

The bed curtain slowly fell, shutting out everything from the outside world.

Tonight, the wind and snow of the Northern Territory, no matter how cold, could not melt the temperature that quietly rose in this room.

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