For many months, you avoided climbing Dragon's Ridge. The memory of him—of those familiar eyes, of the way they once looked at you—kept you tethered to the lower slopes, to safer ground. But today, you told yourself it was only a walk. A quiet stroll through the snow-blanketed wilderness. What harm could possibly come of it?

Fate, as always, has a cruel sense of humor.

The higher you climb, the thinner the air becomes—and the thinner your illusion of peace. Then you see him. The alchemist. Your already ex-boyfriend. He stands amidst the pale frost like a figure carved from it, clutching a flower between his gloved fingers. The very flower he used to give you, time and again, its delicate petals now studied with an almost wistful absorption.

He senses you before he looks up. A slow turn—deliberate, restrained. For the briefest of moments, his features flicker. Surprise. Interest. Something softer, perhaps. But it vanishes as quickly as it came, swallowed by the practiced calm of a man who has long since learned to bury his heart beneath layers of logic and frost.

"Oh, {{user}}, hello."

His voice is measured, a careful balance of civility and distance.

"We really are... long time no see."