Chapter 499: Can We Build a Snowman? (I)

Lazarus’s voice cut through the quiet hallway the moment he saw Primrose.

“You shouldn’t leave your room this early!” he scolded, striding toward her with a deep frown. His eyes, however, were filled with worry rather than anger. “You haven’t even had breakfast.”

He stopped in front of her, arms crossed. “Go back to your room. We’ll eat together first, then you can continue your activities.”

Just minutes ago, Lazarus had been on his way to her bedroom, planning to ask the maids to prepare breakfast for her and Edmund. Yesterday, his daughter looked pale, frightened, and lost in sadness. Yet now, she was already out of bed, walking toward the ballroom as if nothing had happened.

“Oh… Father, I’m fine now,” Primrose replied gently.

Instead of arguing, she reached for the one thing that always softened him; her sweet, innocent tone.

“I just got bored lying in bed, so I asked Edmund to accompany me for a walk outside the room,” Primrose said in a sweet, angelic voice.

She tilted her head slightly, as if the thought had only just crossed her mind. “Then I saw the servants bringing so much food into the ballroom. Since this is my home too, Edmund told me what was happening.”

She lied so smoothly that she managed to convince Lazarus it was exactly what had happened.

But that was indeed what happened. The servants brought so much food to the ballroom because Lazarus decided to use the ballroom as their shelter for the time being.

“Father… is it wrong if I want to see the rescued children?” Primrose blinked several times at Lazarus. “I heard from my husband that they are having difficulty trusting the men around them, so… perhaps I can do the job of convincing them that they are truly safe here.”

Primrose did not yet know everything that had happened in Veloria County, but she knew that the Count of Veloria had died and that they had discovered a hidden dungeon beneath his sugar factory.

Just thinking about it made Primrose feel nauseous, as if she might throw up. The feeling worsened when she remembered how often Lazarus had bought sugar from that very factory.

How many meals had they shared, never knowing?

After being stared at with eyes full of hope and gentleness, Lazarus finally gave in. “Alright, you may see the children, but…” he warned, “Those children have gone through something extremely traumatic, so you cannot expect them to talk to you immediately.”

Primrose smiled softly. “I know. We have to be patient with traumatized children.”

As they walked further, she found herself wondering whether Rose in the past had ever been given the chance to process the grief and trauma she had endured?

She did not want to compare her pain with the children’s pain, because in the end, no kind of suffering should ever be dismissed.

Still… she couldn’t help but wonder. Back then, had anyone pulled her out of the darkness? Had anyone saved her the way Edmund and Lazarus were saving these children now?

Zarius had saved her once, and the result did not end well. Although she hoped that someone else would save her, deep down, she also wished that no one had rescued her from that hellhole.

If she had to pay for her freedom with someone else’s life, then Primrose did not want it.

Unfortunately, she did not know the answer for that now, and if she wanted to find out, she would probably have to see more fragments of her past memories. The problem was… she did not even know how to retrieve those memories.

“Sir Vesper managed to convince them to walk out of their cages, but even so, they are still very alert toward the people around them,” Edmund said. “Especially toward someone new.”

Edmund led the way to the ballroom door. Before opening it, he glanced at Primrose. “I don’t think they’ll react differently just because you’re a woman.” He added, “After all, both men and women in their lives have left wounds on their bodies and minds.”

Most of those who were twisted enough to do such cruel, unforgivable things to children were men. But Primrose knew better than to believe that women were incapable of the same darkness.

She understood that cruelty was not bound to gender. There were women, too, whose hearts were cold enough to hurt innocent children who had done nothing to deserve such suffering.

People might have had different reasons for taking those children, such as: power, money, pleasure, or madness.

But to Primrose, none of those reasons mattered because in the end, anyone who could inflict that kind of pain on a child was worse than any demon she had ever heard of.

“I understand,” Primrose said softly. “I’ll do my best to make them feel comfortable. But if they don’t like me… I’ll leave the ballroom right away.”

Lazarus, standing beside her, fell silent. Inside his mind, worry quickly took over. [If the children reject her, won’t that hurt her even more?]

A wave of panic rose in his chest. [No… I can’t let my daughter feel any sadder than she already is. I—]

Before Lazarus could voice his thoughts, Primrose pushed open the door in front of her. The screeching sound made the children inside the ballroom turn toward her.

They were all huddled together in the far corner of the room, small hands gripping each other tightly, as if letting go would mean being alone again.

They looked like a cluster of frightened kittens, pressed close, seeking warmth, safety… and something familiar in a world that no longer felt kind.

“Good morning,” Primrose said softly, offering a warm smile so she would not appear as a threat to them.

She stayed near the doorway, not stepping forward right away because she didn’t want to frighten them with sudden movement.

Behind her, Edmund quietly closed the door and took his place just a step away, close enough to support her. Lazarus stood nearby as well, his eyes never leaving his daughter, silently making sure she was alright.

As Primrose observed the children, she noticed they were still wearing the same clothes they had on when they were found underground.

She heard the maids had tried to change their clothes, but the children did not like being touched. Because of that, Edmund told them to let the children familiarize themselves with the place first.

“Is this room too cold for you?” Primrose asked as she walked slowly into the ballroom. But instead of approaching the children, she walked toward the window. “I heard there was a snowstorm last night, so the snow on the roads has become even thicker.”

She fell silent for a moment, gazing at the vast stretch of snow beyond the window. It looked cold and lifeless, yet snow could also become a beautiful memory for children.

Then she turned back to them, smiling once more. “Does anyone here know how to make a snowman?”

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