Fire crackled in the study. Though the day was bright with white clouds, as if it would snow any moment, the air was biting cold. The small fireplace provided little warmth as Asher stood in the centre of the room. 

"You wish to leave? Hmm... Will you be alright all by yourself?" The middle-aged man's voice was concerned as he spoke. And so, Asher's eyes darkened like blood dried. 

"Yes, uncle. I'll be fine on my own. I'll leave right away."

Clack. The sound of Asher's briefcase clicked quietly against his knees as he gripped the handle.

"Ahem. Well, it's a bit sad to see you go. Is there anything last thing I can do for you. At least have lunch before you go..." The man offered emptily, knowing that his timid nephew would simple refuse calmly as he had always done. However, Asher seemed to contemplate it for real. 

"Well... there is one thing I'd like."

"Hm? Oh, what is it..?" Hmph, I didn't think he'd actually ask for something. Does he think I'm being serious because he's finally leaving today? Tsk, I couldn't care less what happens to that half-blood.

"Then, please give me a letter of recommendation."

"What...!?"

"I'd like to enter the academy. Though I understand you didn't want to send me there under the family name. I'm cutting my ties to the family today, but a letter of recommendation should suffice, in addition to the money I saved up."

The viscount stiffened as he listened to the boy's explanation, his hands clasped as he watched with dark eyes. 

Asher continued.

"Oh, and I won't interact with Mikal while I'm there. I'll pretend as if we don't know each other." Asher finished his sentence and looked up, his red eyes glinting with a sureness the viscount had never seen in them before. The boy's eyes were unsettling, like dark blood staining pure, white snow.

He had always hated them. Yes... Since the day he saw them a few years ago. When his brother was still alive, and his jealousy got the better of him. The day he stole a precious jewel from their mother's collection and blamed it on his brother in the hopes of gaining favour. 

Those red eyes stared at him the whole time.

"Tsk. It seems like even a rat like you has some wits about him."

Asher nodded inwardly. 

"Your surname will be removed as soon as you step out of this house. Try and survive without it if you can. A letter of recommendation won't protect you in the academy. Tch." The viscount smirked with an arrogant laugh, but he agreed to write the recommendation letter.

Asher, officially an orphan without a family, stepped out of the house.

The cold air instantly attacked his shins. His shorts only went down to his knees, his jacket falling not much lower than them. He stopped to pull his socks up a little higher, then picked up his briefcase with his few belongings. 

***

Asher had been walking for a while. He had made it to the town already, the streets bustling despite the chilly winter. The sky was gradually getting darker.

Bump!

 

"Ack!" Asher fell to the ground, grazing his knee. He was eleven now, but all the adults were much taller than him. A small child like himself couldn't even handle a small nudge without toppling to the ground. 

"Oi, watch it, kid!" The man walking away grumbled angrily. Asher brushed himself off, and continued walking with a stinging knee. 

"Excuse me, do you know wher-"

"Move it, brat! You're in my way!" 

...

"Hello. Do you know where..."

"Hey, I don't have time for this."

...

"Excus-"

"Why are so many orphans walking around these days... goodness..." The woman sighed and walked away without sparing Asher a second glance. He let out a warm breath. The fingers holding onto the leather handle of his briefcase were feeling numb and stinging at the same time. His ears, covered by his dark hair, were so cold they felt warm. Asher burrowed his mouth into the scarf wrapped around his neck, breathing into it slowly as his cheeks flushed. 

"Haa... I should've left during summer..." He whispered to himself. 

But it couldn't be helped. He had to wait until he was eleven to be able to leave. Since his birthday fell at the break of winter, now was the earliest time he could get out. 

A wistful look washed over his big red eyes. 

"Well, what have we here?" A rough voice spoke in front of him. Asher looked up, only to suddenly be grabbed by the chin. He met the eyes of the bald and scruffy man who seemed to have no dignity left. 

"Are you even a boy? You've got a pretty face. Pretty hair too." The man smirked and Asher felt shivers that even dead winter couldn't cause.

The small boy gasped and swung his briefcase. 

Bam! He hit the man in his side and felt himself drop to the floor as the man clutched at his side, groaning in pain. 

Huff, huff. Asher picked himself up and began running. He sprinted through the crowds of people, looking back once or twice to see if he was being chased. 

To his relief, there was no sign of the man. 

Only then did Asher slow down. He bent over, panting out of breath with flushed cheeks. Icy air filled his lunngs with every breath. And then, white fluttered down from the sky. 

"Hm?" Asher looked up at the sky. What had been a blinding white in the morning, had turned into a darkening blue night. Like falling stars, snow drifted in the air. It was the first snow of the year.

Asher set his briefcase flat on the floor and sat on it underneath a street lamp. The orange glow provided no warmth in the silence. Asher hugged his legs, his cold knees pressing against his face. 

I might die of hypothermia before I even get there... 

He closed his eyes, thinking that humourous thought. 

Then a voice suddenly called out. 

"Oh my... What's a young child like you doing out here?" It was a warm voice.  Asher looked up to see a young woman holding a basket. She had a blanket wrapped around her, and many, many blankets under that. He realised quickly there was a baby underneath all those blankets.

"Hm...?" The woman seemed to notice something about Asher. Then, she smiled warmly. "Child, do you have no where to go?" 

Asher contemplated briefly. 

"... No, there is a place I am looking for." 

His answer caught the woman by surprise.

"The house by the well with the yellow chrysanthymums." He recited the words written on the crumpled piece of paper in his pocket. The woman blinked, staring at Asher. For a child who had yet to grow, who's cheeks were still round and big red eyes, there was an unexpected resolve in his demeanour. Her lips stretched into the soft smile again. Her gentle voice rung out again.

"I see. However, it's gotten dark now. And it's started to snow. The house by the well is still a while away from here, so why don't you stay with me tonight? My place is not far." 

'A while away?' Does this woman know that place? Asher wondered. His gaze went from the woman's angelic face under the candlelight, to the baby sleeping soundly against her.

If he was being honest, there was nothing more he would have like then to curl up under some covers on a soft bed. His throat, dry and cold, whispered out an answer.

"Hmh~." The woman beamed, as though proud. 

***

Clink clink. A spoon stirred inside a cup filled with a steaming broth. Angela hummed ever so quietly to herself in the silent kitchen. She headed over to the dimly lit living room that was most humble in size and furninshing. A single bookshelf, a tiny fireplace, one couch and a short, small table in the middle. By the sofa, there was a cot.

She walked in with a tray holding two cups of soup. Her face softened as she watched Asher leaning over the cot. His eyes glistened, staring at the swaddled baby sleeping peacefully. 

"Isabella is quiet the sleeper today." Angela spoke gently, her voice startling Asher. He straightened his legs out, swinging them back off the couch. There was a bandage wrapped around his grazed knee. His face was slightly red as he kept glancing at the baby. Angela handed him a cup.

"She's been sick recently. I went to see a doctor today." She started. "Drink this. You must be exhausted."

"....Thank you, Miss Angela."

"I told you, call me Aunt." She laughed lightly. "I'll get a bed ready for you to sleep in, so you can rest once you're finished. I'll set you on your way tomorrow morning. It's dangerous to travel at night." She spoke, taking a sip of the soup herself. 

Asher thought, for a commoner she seemed to be pretty well off. From the outside, he could tell she lived in a large house with a lot of rooms. The tiny living room made up for the bedrooms on the ground floor. What was more, she had a baby, yet she was alone. There was no man accompanying her even when she was walking home at night. 

"Don't worry about the rooms. This is an orphanage, so we have space right now."

That made more sense to Asher. Since it was an institution, she probably recieved a lot of funds from the town's authority. His uncle probably didn't provide any help despite the town being in his territory. 

"I apologise for the trouble." Asher bowed his head slightly. Angela was taken aback slightly. For such a young child, he had good manners. 

But in the first place, it was odd that a noble would humbly apologise to a commoner like herself.

A part of her was relieved.

"There is something I'd like to ask you, Aunt Angela."

"Go ahead," she beamed. 

"Do you know the house by the well with the yellow chrysanthemums?" He described the house as though he had recited it over and over again. 

"I was wondering when you would ask." She sighed a smile. Asher looked up, slightly wary. 

"Asher, you're finally returning to your mother, right?"

Flicker. Under the wavering candlelight, Asher's face distorted with shock and confusion. It took all his resistance to not accidentally drop his cup and cause the baby to wake up. How did this woman know he was going there? No, how did she recognise him? Questions he couldn't word himself ran through Asher's mind.

But the woman kept smiling. In fact, she smiled awkwardly. 

"Ah, don't be so wary of me..." She sighed. "I recognised you the moment I saw your eyes. There aren't many people in this town who's eyes are a deep, cherry red." Angela's gaze softened as though she remembered something nostalgic. 

"I was there at your mother's wedding. And... the day they came to take you away from her..." Her eyes filled with something like rage. Yet there was an untold pain within them.

Silence seemed to fill the room. Only the sound of fireplace crackling and the even breath's of the baby Isabella remained.

***

"Oh... The snow set quite a lot overnight..." Iris muttered to herself. She tied up her almond brown hair, and began boiling some water. 

Knock. Knock.

"Is it Old lady Bamey? I told her she doesn't have to check on me all the time..." Iris muttered to herself as she wiped her hands. Preparing herself for the incoming cold blast, she opened the door.

"Yes...?" He gaze on the empty and white front garden stopped, then flitted down. 

The boy's mouth opened. But before he could say anything, Iris sunk to the floor. With hands trembling not from the cold, but shock, she cupped the boy's cheeks.

The warmth of her touch spread across his skin. 

"... Mother."

A gasp choken out from her throat as tears streamed down her face when Asher spoke. 

It was the same red eyes as his own. For most of his life, he thought that he looked like his father. He realised he was wrong when Angela spoke to him the night before. 

He had gotten his eyes from his mother. The proof was in front of him. 

Iris continued to hold his flushed face. 

"You came back. I finally got you back." She muttered out breathlessly between sobs. 

Asher was pulled into her arms. Her thin arms coiled around his body as his face pressed into her hair. There was an unfamiliar scent coming from her. It wasn't like the maids at the manor, or the breakfast they served him, or the scent of tobaccor from his uncle. It was unknown to him, and yet Asher found himself longing for it. It was the scent of his mother who he had not met for ten years.

A feeling welled up inside of his heart, as though a void had been painfully filled. It overflowed, until it filled his cold lungs and reached his throat. The feeling as though he was reaching for something far away choked him, and tears filled his eyes for the first time in a long while.

For some time, Asher cried helplessly in his mother's arms. 

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