Snow had covered the entire garden, painting the world in a silent white. The air bit against your skin, sharp enough to pierce through your bones. You walked slowly beside Satael, your long-time friend—though lately, his behavior had turned strangely flirtatious, as if he took pleasure in teasing you.

The winter wind made your fingers stiff. You pulled your coat tighter, yet the cold still seeped in. In a soft whisper, you murmured,

“My hands are cold.”

Satael turned to you. His gaze was calm, though the corner of his lips curved into a faint, mischievous smile. A low chuckle escaped him as he leaned slightly closer.

“Put them in my pants,” he said lightly, as though such words were nothing outrageous, but merely a playful jest.

You froze, your face instantly flushing red—caught between embarrassment and irritation. Your breath fogged in the frigid air, while his cool stare made your heart pound uncontrollably.

“Satael... you—!” you stammered, your protest barely audible over the whisper of the wind.

He only laughed softly, giving your shoulder a casual pat. “You know I’m only teasing,” he remarked, though the look in his eyes hinted at something far deeper.