The landscape of the far north, where Yeong-go Mountain had once stood, had changed beyond recognition. The towering peaks that once loomed beyond the village outskirts were gone, replaced by strange stones and a vast, glimmering lake.

By the time they reached the lake’s edge, after following the winding stone-paved path, the clamor of the village that had filled their ears seemed to vanish as though it had never been. In its place, a deep tranquility settled over the path leading to the water—so still it felt as if no one else existed nearby.

“Does no one live near the lake even now?”

Ophelia, gazing at the faintly glimmering surface beyond the stones, asked softly.

“All the land near the villa is private property. Entry is forbidden.”

Chadwick replied evenly, then lifted her by the waist.

“Chadwick!”

Ophelia’s eyes flew wide as her body was suddenly raised into the air.

Holding both her and Yser, Chadwick stepped over a large stone that blocked the way and said calmly:

“The ground is damp. It’s easy to slip.”

His glance at her shoes made Ophelia flush, and she spoke in a small voice, half embarrassed, half concerned.

“But still, it’s heavy for you…”

Chadwick gave a quiet laugh and answered,

“Whether it’s you or Yser, the weight is much the same to me.”

“That’s nonsense.”

Ophelia furrowed her brows in protest, but Chadwick let her words pass as though unbothered and turned his gaze forward.

“Ophelia.”

“Yes?”

“We’ve arrived.”

His voice, already low, came softer still—resonant and hushed, almost heavy against the air.

It was only after a moment that Ophelia realized the heaviness in the air came from the moisture it carried.

“The winter lake.”

The wide expanse of water was mirrored in his gray eyes. Caught by the sight, Ophelia found herself staring at him in a daze before turning her head a beat too late—and then she froze.

The lake before her was nothing like the one she remembered. It was neither the mysterious scene from their first visit nor the frozen wasteland of the day he had saved her.

Beyond the stone-paved path, young willows formed a perfect ring around the water, and at its center stood a single, familiar willow tree—like a guardian watching over its saplings—rising from a small island. Its half-submerged roots stretched into the water, while its drifting leaves floated lazily across the clear surface, catching the light.

“Heavens… how has this place returned to spring? Before, it was surely…”

Ophelia’s lips trembled as the words escaped her. When Silveron had dragged her here, the lake had been frozen solid. And yet now, just as it had been on the very first day she came with Chadwick, spring lay gently across its waters.

As she struggled to suppress the sudden swell of emotion, Chadwick’s low voice stirred against her ear.

“Because of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“…The holy power you used while in his grasp.”

His voice was quiet, deliberate, his gray eyes closing and opening slowly.

Ophelia looked at him in surprise. She knew well how he hated to speak Silveron’s name before her—how he feared it might pull her back into that darkness, how often he had kept vigil until dawn, guarding her through those memories.

Chadwick’s grip on her hand tightened as he continued.

“The ice from the glacier, dissolved into the lake, must have responded to that power of purification and spread. Each time I came to see to the villa’s reconstruction, I watched it gradually return to its original form.”

“Then it really is thanks to me.”

Ophelia said, meeting his steady gray gaze with a playful smile.

“Yes. It’s thanks to you.”

Her smile drew one from him as well—soft, unguarded, as though all the weight had lifted from his chest.

“I should enjoy it boldly, without holding back. With you, and with Yser.”

Ophelia stepped lightly onto the open plain where the lake spread wide. Then, just as she once had, she slipped off her thick outer cloak and dropped it carelessly onto the grass.

The soft breeze lifted her silver hair, brushing past her to sweep over Chadwick and Yser as well.

“Yser, come here.”

Turning toward them, Ophelia stretched her arms wide.

Seeing the hem of her white dress flutter in the wind, Yser squirmed in Chadwick’s arms.

“Amma!”

Crossing the rocky ground, Chadwick reached the soft grass and set the boy down. Yser steadied himself, then toddled toward Ophelia.

Chadwick’s eyes fixed on that tiny back. Step by step—each stride no larger than a grown man’s palm—Yser hurried across the grass until, at last, he tumbled into Ophelia’s arms.

Kyaa—bright, ringing laughter burst from him, blending with the chirping of birds.

“Chadwick, come here too. The grass is so soft.”

Ophelia had already slipped off her shoes and was seated on the grass, placing a small wildflower into Yser’s hand as she called to him.

Sunlight streamed down, and her voice, mingling with Yser’s laughter, carried on the breeze. These were the very sights and sounds he longed for each time he sat confined in his study. Now they were calling to him.

Chadwick brushed back the hair that always fell across his brow, then slowly shed the coat that bound him and laid it upon the grass. Taking in the faint footprints scattered across the ground, he walked toward Ophelia and Yser.

“Amma!”

Rolling in the grass, tickled by the blades in his mother’s arms, Yser suddenly turned his head toward Chadwick. His small lips worked a few times, then—

“Aba!”

With a radiant smile, he called to him.

“Abaa!”

At the call, Chadwick paused briefly, then approached with a smile that mirrored Yser’s own face.

“…Yes. Father.”

He whispered in a low voice to Yser, as if to impress it upon him not to forget.

Watching from the side, Ophelia laughed and teased lightly.

“Your wish has come true.”

Still absorbed in tickling Yser’s cheek, Chadwick only smiled. Then, noticing a faint oddity, he opened his hand.

“You may be right.”

A small willow leaf, carried on the wind, had stuck to his finger as he touched Yser’s cheek.

“They say if you catch a willow leaf, your wish comes true.”

Ophelia, amused by his cool expression as he murmured such a frivolous thing, lay down beside Yser. Reaching out, she brushed her hand through Chadwick’s dark hair and smiled.

“Then we’d better catch as many as we can before we leave. I’ll count on you, Your Excellency.”

Catching her hand as it traced along his brow, Chadwick lowered it and replied,

“I shall try…provided the reward is worth it.”

His gray eyes glowed, shadowed against the light.

It was only then that Ophelia realized she was trapped beneath him, enclosed between his arms. Looking up at him, she spoke with a mix of wonder and fond reproach.

“You really have changed.”

“That too is thanks to you.”

At his words, Ophelia cast him a mock glare, then pressed a light kiss to his lips as he hovered above her.

“Is that enough?”

The feather-light kiss curved his lips faintly—but unsatisfied, he leaned down again, seeking her once more.

Not long after, as Yser rolled on the grass beside them, he suddenly cried out, “Serdeu!” and pressed his cheek against Ophelia’s forehead, scattering them all into laughter.

Together, the family strolled leisurely across the grass. As if to repay the “reward” he had already claimed, Chadwick gathered handfuls of willow leaves and placed them into both Ophelia’s and Yser’s hands. Laughing, the two flicked droplets of lake water at each other, their mirth ringing in the air.

When Yser’s belly let out a loud rumble, their blissful midday by the lake drew to a close. Hand in hand, the three matched their steps to Yser’s tiny pace, making their way toward the little house. Warm and modest, rebuilt in the likeness of the old villa, it welcomed them gently despite their damp clothes.

⚫ ⚫ ⚫

The week at the villa passed in peace and happiness.

“Aba, joah!”

Yser had picked up a few more words from Chadwick, and he had quickly fallen in love with the meat pies his father baked.

On the final day of their perfect, peaceful journey, Ophelia went down into the village. There, in front of a shoe shop, stood the girl, shy and awkward, summoned there by Chadwick. She was the same girl who had once given Ophelia the knot.

“Sorry it took me so long to return it.”

“…It’s all right.”

The girl shook her head at Ophelia’s apology. Having learned of Ophelia’s status after the wedding, she seemed to feel both distance and admiration at once.

“I joined the frayed part with new thread—will that be okay?”

Ophelia handed her the red butterfly-shaped knot, asking carefully.

The girl’s gaze fell to the knot’s edge. Where the new red thread had been joined, a few round beads were fastened. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of them. Then, glancing at Yser standing at Ophelia’s skirt, she shook her head.

“It’s fine.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“…No, that’s not it.”

Blushing faintly, the girl answered in a small voice, then added shyly,

“I’ve never seen a child cuter than Retia. He’s a boy, isn’t he?”

Ophelia glanced at Yser and nodded.

“Then…when a girl is born, please return it. She’ll surely be so very lovely.”

This time, it was Ophelia’s face that flushed red.

Startled, she looked back and forth between Yser, the girl, and Chadwick. Then, smiling softly, she nodded.

“All right, I will.”

Hearing her reply, the girl extended the hand she had been hiding behind her back. In it was a pair of small children’s shoes.

“My, how pretty. Thank you.”

“When a little sister is born, you must come and bring them back, okay?”

Ophelia bent down, slipped the shoes onto Yser’s feet at once, then hugged the girl briefly and nodded.

At her side, Yser tilted his head at the unfamiliar word.

It would not be until the following winter that he came to understand the meaning of “sibling.”