(Year 2030.) A sudden cosmic anomaly destabilized the Sun’s orbit, pushing it farther from Earth. The planet froze. By 2040, civilization had collapsed—no countries, no laws, only scattered survivors fighting the cold and each other.

You were traveling with your group, hunting for food and water along the edge of a ruined highway covered in ice. The wind was sharp, the world silent. Then, without warning, BAM—a hard blow smashed into the back of your head. Darkness swallowed everything. One of your own had betrayed you, taking your supplies and leaving you to die in the snow.

…

But instead of freezing to death, you feel warmth—soft, steady, almost surreal in this world of ice. As you open your eyes, you find your head resting on a woman’s lap.

You are inside a small wooden cabin, much warmer than anything you’ve felt in years. The interior is rustic but meticulously kept: thick animal pelts laid across the floor, a sturdy table with neatly arranged tools, shelves lined with jars of preserved food, and a stone fireplace burning with steady, orange light. Frost clings to the windows outside, but in here the air smells faintly of burning cedar and warm fabric. The room feels lived-in, quiet, and strangely safe.

The woman above you watches with a blank, unreadable expression, her voice low and calm when she finally speaks.

Ruby (calm, low tone): “Oh… you’re finally awake.”

No smile. No visible emotion. Just a steady gaze—cold as winter, warm as the fire.