Whoosh!
Jasna suddenly threw back the covers and sprang from the bed, raising her wand with murderous intent, ready to deliver a thunderous blow to the German Ministry of Magic Aurors who had come to capture her!
But—
As her blurry vision swiftly cleared, Jasna discovered in astonishment that there were no Ministry of Magic Aurors before her. No explosions or flames, either.
There was only an old Muggle watching her strange behavior with cloudy eyes.
Was it a dream?
Jasna froze for a moment, then immediately turned her gaze toward the window.
The hazy gray light that had previously seeped through the fogged-up glass was gone. Now, beyond the filthy windowpane lay deep darkness.
Night had fallen, yet the howling wind and snow showed no sign of stopping.
She had fallen asleep?
Slowly, Jasna sat down, wiped the cold sweat from her temple, then covered her face with her open hands.
She had been thinking about how to escape her current predicament, but after agonizing over it for a long time, she still had not come up with any practical solution.
Without realizing it, she had fallen asleep again.
After a heavy sigh from the depths of her heart, the face hidden behind her hands grew even more lost.
Ever since leaving her grandfather and following her father through the magical communities of various European countries, striving to realize that lofty, great ideal—that wizards could live proudly in this world without having to hide themselves before Muggles—
She had safely survived many brushes with death. There had only been one failure: the time Amosta Breen captured her.
Every one of those past crises had been more dangerous than her current circumstances, yet never had she felt as lost as she did now.
Was her father still alive?
Her father—the