The first time he’d seen the child, he had been certain he was Kaelid’s son, struck by how much they looked alike. Yet when he chose to save him, he had thought the boy resembled Reina.

And now, thinking of him as his son, he felt he might even resemble himself.

Whether it was because he wanted so badly to believe it, or because it was the truth, he couldn’t say.

The servants of the estate all believed without doubt that Alteon was truly Zephion’s son. They often remarked on the resemblance. But how much of it he could believe… remained uncertain.

He signed his last document and rose from his seat.

Outside the window, snow had piled thick. He stood by the glass, gazing quietly at the white world.

‘Would she wake when the snow melted?’

He recalled how once, he had thought she might wake whenever it snowed. The memory made him smile bitterly.

When he opened Alteon’s room, the boy darted forward, crawling quickly, and grabbed the hem of his trousers.

“Ahw.”

“Yes, Alteon.”

“Master.”

The nursemaid came running, calling, “Young master!” But when she saw Zephion, she bowed slightly. With a small wave of his hand, she lowered her head and quietly left the room.

He lifted the child into his arms.

He could feel how much heavier he had grown since the first time he held him. Nestled against his chest as though already used to the arms of his father, Alteon wriggled his little fingers.

Zephion pressed a soft kiss into the boy’s fine hair, just as Reina once had, and breathed in deeply. That warm, comforting scent unique to children filled him.

“When do you think Reina will wake?”

“Uung…”

“She tried so hard to protect you, so it’s you who has to call her back.”

He chided gently, then let out a dry laugh.

Holding the boy quietly, Zephion wrapped him snugly in a thick blanket.

They went together to the room where Reina still slept. Because the window was left half-open, the room was nearly as cold as outside. He approached the bed and, as always, sat silently in the chair beside it.

“She’s your mother, Alteon.”

As he said this, he set the boy down beside the woman. Tiny hands patted her cool cheek.

Whether it was because he understood the word “mother,” or because instinct led him to recognize the one who had borne him, Alteon crawled right up to Reina’s face and clung close.

Though her skin must have been cold, there wasn’t a hint of hesitation in his movements.

“Isn’t it time you woke up?”

Zephion clenched his fists tight.

‘Does she know how dreadful each day has become?’

If she was keeping her eyes shut only to torment him, he wanted to tell her it was enough. Did she wish to see him begging, broken? If so, he was ready. He would gladly fall to his knees—if only she would rise.

His teeth ground together, a short, harsh sound escaping, but no one paid it any mind.

Alteon’s small hands continued to touch Reina’s face. Watching him, Zephion, on a faint hope, carefully brushed her cheek himself.

Her skin, chilled by the winter air, felt frozen beneath his touch.

A sudden dread seized him. What if she froze this way? What if she woke… only to die?

He shut the window and stuffed the fireplace full of logs. Flames roared to life, quickly filling the room with heat.

Yet still, Reina’s cheek remained cold. As though she would never wake again.

“Eh-choo!”

Perhaps because he had been in the cold too long, Alteon began to cough. When the child coughed again and again, his eyes welled with tears. Zephion wiped them gently and wrapped the blanket more securely around him. Then he pulled the small body tightly into his arms. He could feel the boy burrowing in, seeking warmth.

As he smoothed a hand over the child’s head, he stared at Reina, just as he always did.

Even as winter passed, she remained frozen.

***

Spring came at last.

Watching the snow melt and the sprouts push through the earth, Zephion found himself wondering if Reina might truly be dead.

He mocked himself for clinging to a corpse. And yet, he could not bring himself to admit she was “truly” gone. If her body had decayed in ruin, he would have been forced to accept it, however much he hated it. But Reina still looked like a doll of wax.

He gazed at the unmoving platinum lashes and brushed them softly with his fingertips, searching for the faintest sign of life. Still, she was only cold.

He smoothed back the strands of hair scattered near her cheek and lightly brushed her earlobe. On her ear, the red earring still hung.

“……”

Zephion entwined his fingers tightly with her slender ones.

Over the passing days, his heart had surged with countless storms. At times, she was unbearably hateful. At times, despair consumed him. Then he begged her to love him again… only to accuse her once more.

Even knowing she could not hear, he poured everything out. Rage, hatred, sorrow, despair. Every feeling he had, he unleashed.

And in the ashes of all he had burned away, only love remained.

The same love that had driven him to kneel before the emperor—a man who had never bowed before anyone else—and beg. The same love that had made him utter those foolish words: that he would gladly throw away his life. Love that he knew would never be returned, and yet he could not help but give.

“Haa…”

Closing his eyes, he felt the cold of her frail hand seep into him. It was spring, a season when all things came alive again. Yet this room remained winter. An eternal winter that would never end.

At the very moment the thought crossed his mind, his back stiffened at a sudden sensation.

Her hand, cold as ice until now, began slowly to warm beneath his touch.

‘Was it only a desperate illusion? Or… was it real?’

He had been deceived by such false hopes so many times before that even now, he doubted himself.

“Reina.”

The voice came out strained, as if he hadn’t spoken in years.

He gripped her slender hand tightly, then slowly kneaded it, praying the warmth he felt was no illusion. He fixed his gaze on her lashes, hoping desperately to see them tremble, even the slightest bit—but her tightly shut eyelids did not move.

“…Wake up.”

His low voice quivered faintly.

This time, it didn’t feel like a mistake. He couldn’t be certain, but his mind filled with the conviction that today—today she would awaken.

“You’ve lain here long enough.”

Zephion bit down hard on his lip.

“Open your eyes now. I won’t ask… whether you loved me, whether Alteon is truly my son, whether there was ever any truth between us. I won’t ask any of it.”

His whisper came like a plea as he pressed his palm against her still-cool cheek.

It felt as though warmth was beginning to spread through her body. Not as icy as winter had been. She hadn’t moved yet, but he was certain—she was waking.

“We can forget it all and start over from the beginning.”

She had lost her memories, after all. Now he wanted to fill her with nothing but good things. Erase the Berend name, the hatred, the vengeance—wipe it all away as though it had never existed. They could begin again, as if she had always loved him.

“Reina. Reina Baltgar.”

For the first time, he quietly spoke the name he had never dared utter to anyone.

“Spring has come. So… it’s time to wake now.”

And at that very moment, her fingers twitched—so faintly it might have been missed, but Zephion felt it, undeniably. His eyes flew wide.

A soft, fragile sound reached him, like someone taking their very first breath. Slowly, so slowly, came the faint exhale.

“Rei… na.”

Her voice was barely audible.

Zephion clutched her hand so tightly it almost hurt.

Her lashes, motionless for so long, fluttered faintly—and then, violet eyes appeared.

Her gaze drifted uncertainly through the air before settling on him. His teeth clenched. She was awake. Truly awake. And that alone was enough.

His head lowered, his shoulders trembling, as tears threatened to spill—when at last, with a delicate sigh, a small voice whispered…

“It sounds like… birds, chattering. Crying without pause. Pi, pi, they say.”

He stared blankly at Reina. Their eyes met.

In hers lay countless questions. Not a trace of memory remained—not even the faintest recognition of who Zephion was.

And yet, she was still Reina.
Reina.
The only woman he had ever hated… and loved.

At last, Zephion managed a fragile smile as he answered softly,

“Pipi. My name is Pipi.”

“Pipi.”

Her lips curved gently as she repeated the old nickname.

At the sound of her voice calling him so, he buried his face in her hand.

A breath broke from him, laced with tears.

At last, a new spring had come.

****THE END****