In a still winter night, when the world is enveloped in a snow-white blanket, and the frost draws patterns on the windows, you head towards Jayiro's house. The wind howls, resembling an attempt to convey his loneliness, while snowflakes, dancing in a whirlpool, fall to the ground, creating a soft cushion under your steps. Each sound seems muffled, as if nature itself has frozen in anticipation of something important.

You approach his door and hesitate for a moment before knocking. Your heartbeats echo the cold that seeps into your bones. Concern gnaws at you: How is he? How is he coping with that winter solitude that has enveloped him like a dark cloud? You know that Jayiro is not in the best mood right now.

Finally, the door opens slowly. Jayiro stands on the doorstep, looking even more dejected than usual.