THE SNOWDRIFT HALL (2)

Marshall stood there like a fly stuck in a spider's web, left on display in Chioni family's hall. All he could do was shrink closer to the column and hope that whoever walked past the column wouldn't notice him.

Hurried, purposeful steps were approaching, then abruptly halted a few meters away from the column. Marshall held his breath to hear better. Had this person changed their mind and returned to their room?

A tap on the shoulder from the other side jumped him.

"Oh, ah," Marshall loaded a reaction and put on a grin. "Good to see you, eh?"

Wyn's eyes narrowed at the disciple, who was torn between a guilty laugh and an apology.

The snow deity's lips tightened as if getting ready for a scolding, but before he could say anything, a sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the distance.

Marshall, still stuck in the trap of the column, shifted his attention to the stairs, his eyes widening in alarm.

"Is that your father?" he whispered urgently.

"Yes," Wyn replied in a hushed voice. He quickly channeled his spiritual energy and peeled Marshall off the frosty column.

The disciple winced as the spiritual frost stung his skin. He was hauled across the hall in a blink. Wyn pushed Marshall inside, following right behind.

The door closed right before Lord Chioni rounded the corner. The snow deity led Marshall behind a wooden screen, pushing him down with no coddling.

"What were you doing out there? Going around, touching things you are not supposed to?" Wyn whispered furiously.

Marshall rubbed his hands together like a fly that had escaped the spider's clutches. "I was just taking a look around."

Wyn sighed, resting his forehead in his hand.

"Lord Chioni is not one to trifle with. If he caught you snooping around his floor, to say that it would not end well for you would be an understatement."

"Why? What would have happened?"

"Do not ask, and do not get involved," Wyn chopped his words.

The disciple shuffled around impatiently. "Why won't you elaborate on anything? I have so many questions—mmphf!"

He was cut off as Wyn shot a hand in front of his mouth.

The footsteps seemed to have stopped right behind Wyn's room. Both of them strained to listen.

"Do not move," the snow deity's whisper sounded more like a breath as he removed his hand, and soundlessly circled the screen.

Wyn settled on one of the cushions by the floor table, pretending to study. Meanwhile, Marshall sat still on the cool ground, listening for any sounds.

As he waited, he couldn't help but stare at the scenery embroidered on silk in front of him. Curious fingers lifted to trace along the thread bumps on the surface, but a stinging sensation made him withdraw.

Two knocks on the door followed, echoing straight through Marshall's chest. How could knocking sound menacing?

Without raising from his seat, Wyn called out, "You may enter."

The door swung open as if it had been torn open by a winter wind, and Lord Chioni stepped into the room. It might have been Marshall's imagination, but the temperature in Wyn's room dropped even lower.

"I was sure I heard voices coming from your room," Lord Chioni noted, then paused, most likely taking a look around the room. 

The disciple lowered his head and sharpened his ears to listen in.

"You must have heard wrong" Wyn's tone matched the frigid atmosphere. "As you can see, I am busy studying."

Lord Chioni hummed dubiously. "Studying, you say?" His voice shifted slightly, as if a subtle smirk were playing on his face, "How diligent."

Wyn's hold on his book tightened, its cover cracking quietly. 

The disciple, perfectly hidden behind the screen, was chewing on his cheek. His nose was itching, as it always did when coming in contact with spiritual frost.

Marshall cautiously lifted his hand to pinch it, but his sleeve made a subtle shuffling noise. He bit down on his tongue, freezing in his movements as he fought against the urge to sneeze.

Lord Chioni, seeming to sense something was amiss, turned his attention to the room. A nerve-wrecking pause followed before he spoke.

"Young Lord Chioni, allow me to offer you a piece of advice," he started, his voice carrying an intimidating tone. "Do not associate with people you must hide."

A tense silence hung in the air. The crisp air in Wyn's room felt freezing to the core, yet beads of sweat formed on Marshall's forehead.

Lord Chioni crossed the room to leave, but stopped by the door. 

"While assertiveness is a favorable trait, a sharp mind without discretion is merely a bow without an arrow. Haste results in empty shots," came a warning. 

Marshall shrunk behind the screen. Had Lord Chioni noticed him earlier? That comparison hit too close to home for it to be a coincidence.

After the door clicked shut, Marshall was finally able to move. He immediately rubbed his nose like crazy, but it couldn't stop the sneeze.

Wyn swept around the screen like a gust of wind, coming to scold the disciple.

"I told you not to move!" he whisper-yelled at the disciple, who sneezed with his whole body.

The snow deity put a hand in front of the wooden frame of the screen, blocking Marshall's forehead. 

"Control yourself!" Wyn chided, pushing his head away from the screen.

The disciple shuddered, holding onto the screen as he straightened.

"Is it my fault that spiritual frost makes me sneeze?"

"As a matter of fact, this situation is entirely your fault," the snow deity muttered, his eyes narrowing. "It was foolish of you think someone like Lord Chioni would not be able to tell when an outsider enters the Snowdrift Hall."

Marshall sniffled and shrugged, glancing down at the wetness in his hand. A quiet "ouch" left him as he stared at the bloody palm. The skin on it seemed to have cracked open like a thin layer of ice.

"How... why is it like this?" Marshall murmured.