“Ah…”

The carriage was empty—hollow, desolate.

Ophelia stared blankly into its interior, where not even the faintest trace of warmth remained.

—”Where would I go?”

Chadwick’s voice echoed in her mind, mocking her now.

Her hand slipped weakly from the carriage handle.

“…He’s here. He must be here.”

Turning away from the carriage, Ophelia searched frantically.

“Chadwick!”

Her voice broke as she began to sob.

Desperate, she ran across the temple steps and around the carriage, searching and calling out as she went.

But the man with jet-black hair and piercing grey eyes was nowhere to be found.

“Chadwick…”

The world had been swallowed by darkness. By the time the night had become so thick that the moon was obscured by clouds, Ophelia’s frantic footsteps finally slowed.

“You said you’d stay…”

Tear after tear spilled down her cheeks, glistening as they fell.

You said you wouldn’t leave. You said you would stay; you said you would wait.

“…You said that.”

Her body gave way, causing her to collapse to the ground. The hem of her white gown dragged in the dirt and became stained, but she no longer noticed.

“Did you leave?”

Ophelia’s hand scraped against the dirt. Blood welled from where the sharp grit had cut her fingertips, staining the ground.

“Did you truly… leave me?”

—”Are you all right?”

The voice that had saved her ten years ago scattered like sand in her mind.

You were always my saviour.

While everyone else treated my sacrifice as insignificant, your outstretched hand was so kind that it brought me to tears.

You were the first to offer me a helping hand and the first to put yourself in danger to protect me.

How could I not love you?

But now…

“Why… why do you make me cry like this?”

“Why are you abandoning me?”

Her sobs grew louder, as if they might reach the heavens. The hope she had carried with her today had shattered, leaving behind a sorrow so intense that it seemed to have been created solely for this moment.

On that snowy night, Ophelia collapsed onto the frozen ground, finally releasing the tears she had held back for four long years. Only after what felt like an eternity did her crying fade into silence, her strength completely drained away.

Her pale, raw, scraped hands lay open at her sides. Her body felt unbearably heavy, as though waterlogged with grief.

Yet she could not bring herself to climb into the carriage he had left behind. Instead, she staggered forward, wandering aimlessly.

“If I keep walking, I’ll eventually get there.”

A bitter laugh escaped her.

Why does everything she long for turn away from her?

It felt as though her wishes would never come true.

Her heart ached with a vast emptiness that chilled her to the bone.

Perhaps that was why.

The heart that had pounded with hope during the day and sorrow at night now beat more slowly and dully.

She could not tell whether minutes or hours had passed. It was only when the endless darkness finally gave way to faint glimmers of light that she faltered.

“I’ve come this far already.”

Ophelia murmured softly. Before her eyes stretched the square of Winthea. The bustling noise of the crowd rang restlessly in her ears.

In the north, where ten months of the year were winter, the night was more dazzling than anywhere else. Especially at this time—the beginning of December—the entire city was aglow with preparations for the year’s end, the Saintros Festival.

“How beautiful…”

Ophelia looked at the lanterns that wrapped around the square and smiled faintly. They glittered against the pitch-black darkness, shining as though to comfort her.

“Truly… it’s so, beautiful.”

Her eyes, once emptied and parched, began to glisten once more.

At that moment, a small warmth touched her cold hand.

“Sister, are you crying?”

A curly-haired boy stood before her, a basket full of red flowers clutched to his chest, looking up at her.

“Why are you crying? Are you hurt?”

At his question, the smile she had forced upon her lips crumbled in an instant. Clear tears spilled down, and her chest tightened as though something were lodged within it, stealing her breath.

The boy’s golden eyes widened at her falling tears, and he stamped his feet in flustered panic.

“Ah, you shouldn’t cry… I was told to cheer you up…”

But no matter his words, Ophelia could not stop the tears. She cried.

Today had hurt too much. She was so weary, she had wanted to give everything up. Yet on this very day—the glow of the square was too beautiful… and the boy’s hand was too warm.

Not knowing what else to do, the boy took a flower from his basket and held it out to her.

“Sister, take this. Don’t cry anymore.”

Ophelia reached out and received the flower from his small hand. Against her pale palm, the crimson bloom spread open brilliantly, dazzling and beautiful.

“…Thank you.”

Ophelia smiled at the child.

At her greeting, the boy finally beamed and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

“You mustn’t cry anymore, sister. Happy Saintros.”

“Happy Saintros.”

In return, Ophelia brushed a soft kiss against the child’s downy cheek and whispered her reply. The boy rolled his golden eyes bashfully before running off across the square.

A few steps away, a silver-haired man picked him up, his gaze lingering on Ophelia for a moment. When their eyes met, Ophelia smiled; her face seemed on the verge of tears.

“They look so happy.”

The child and the man seemed like a scene from a painting—something to admire, to yearn for, yet never to touch.

Ophelia looked quietly at the flower the boy had left in her hands. Its crimson petals, a symbol of the festival, trembled delicately in the cold wind. As her fingertips brushed softly against them—

“Are you in your right mind?”

A large hand grabbed Ophelia by the wrist. Her fragile petals were scattered in the wind.

“The flower…”

Ophelia stared blankly at the bloom that had fallen to the ground, crushed beneath a shoe. Then, slowly, she raised her head.

There stood Chadwick, his face twisted in a way she had never seen before. His clothes, always so precise, were now disheveled.

Ophelia regarded him calmly.

“What brings you here?”

“Do you truly need to ask?”

At her words, Chadwick gave a hollow laugh, his voice strained and suppressed.

Ophelia lowered her eyes to the wrist still trapped in his grasp and spoke quietly.

“Yes, I don’t know. I really don’t know, Chadwick.”

At the sound of Ophelia’s parched voice, Chadwick faltered. His cold, ice-blue eyes looked down at her. Her violet eyes, which had once been clear and bright, were now clouded and dull.

“Surely you didn’t come here to see me?”

“Do you think that’s something you should be saying right now?”

Chadwick’s face twisted as he took a step towards her.

“Don’t come any closer!”

The scent of perfume drifted on the wind, filling her with sorrow. It was rich and heavy — the fragrance of another woman. Ophelia bit her lip hard, unable to believe it belonged to him.

Was that the reason he had left her? Because of a woman?

Her gaze fell on the white dress glowing in the lamplight. She had been so foolish and blind as to never even realize.

Ophelia’s violet eyes trembled like the sea in a storm.

“Were you seeing another woman?”

She had cried so much that not even tears would come now. Her voice sounded flat even to her own ears as she looked at Chadwick’s disheveled shirt and laughed bitterly.

“What did you just say?”

Chadwick ground the words out between clenched teeth. The sinews in his strong jaw stood taut and rigid.

“There’s no need to act as though it’s unthinkable. The rumors have been everywhere.”

In response to her calm — almost cruel — voice, Chadwick slowly released her wrist.

“All this time… is that how you saw me?”

His silver-grey eyes wavered faintly.

Meeting his gaze, Ophelia lifted her dry lips into a brittle smile.

“Then tell me — how else should I have seen you?”

Upon hearing her words, Chadwick looked at Ophelia in silence. Why did his eyes look so much like those of a wounded animal? The sight made Ophelia feel as though she were the guilty one. Just as it had been for the past four years.

‘But I endured so much. I bore it all, didn’t I? Isn’t that true?’

The sorrow she had held back broke free, spilling down her cheeks in tears.

“You never looked at me, not once. You never accepted me… and you never forgave me, either.”

“Chadwick.”

“…”

“Do you still hate me that much?”

‘I thought I’d shown you how sorry I was.’

Ophelia’s voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes squeezed shut. She already knew the answer, and her own words became a blade that pierced her chest. Her silver lashes quivered as images of the couples in the square rose in her mind, their loving gazes fixed on each other with such warmth.

Tears welled in her violet eyes again, falling one by one.

“So now… there’s no chance you could ever love me, is there?”

“…”

Chadwick looked down at her without reply, the storm in his dark gray eyes rough and restless.

“…Isn’t that so?”

Ophelia asked softly, meeting his eyes. At her question, Chadwick’s fingertips gave the faintest tremor. She didn’t see it. She only bit down hard on her lip.

‘What am I asking for? I already know the answer. And yet… was there still a part of me hoping, even now?’

Ophelia gave a hollow laugh as she looked at him. His gray eyes, heavy and dark, stayed fixed silently on her.

How long they remained that way, staring at each other, she could not tell.

At last, Chadwick turned his back. At that familiar sight, Ophelia let out a breathless, despairing laugh.

“Get in.”

He spoke without once looking back.

With blurred vision, Ophelia looked at the black carriage waiting for her. For some reason, it felt like a prison cell designed to trap her inside.

She dragged her heavy footsteps forward and climbed inside.

After watching her, Chadwick seated himself opposite her and firmly shut the carriage door.

Soon, the carriage lurched into motion with a heavy jolt.

Looking out of the window, she saw couples wrapped in each other’s arms and smiling happily.

A single tear slid down her cheek.