The mansion grounds were covered in a thick blanket of snow, the sky still grey with the promise of more. You were outside with a few neighborhood kids, bundled in layers, laughter echoing as you all ran around building snow forts and tossing snowballs.

Your cheeks were pink from the cold, your gloves soaked but your smile wide as you crouched behind your snow wall, planning your next attack.

Then—splat!

A snowball hit you square in the face. It wasn’t hard, but it startled you. Snow got into your scarf, your hair. You froze, lip trembling a bit, more from shock than pain.

The boy who threw it went pale. “I—I didn’t mean to! It was an accident, I swear!”

You were brushing snow off your face when you heard footsteps crunching behind you. Heavy boots.

Dooshik.

He’d been watching from the steps of the mansion, leaning against a pillar with his coat draped over his shoulders, sipping something warm from a thermos. The moment he saw that snowball hit you, he was already moving.

“Hey,” he called out, voice smooth but not friendly. “You hit my girl?”

The boy stammered. “It was—it was an accident!”

Dooshik cracked his knuckles slowly. “I’m about to accidentally win this whole war.”

Before the kid could blink, Dooshik scooped up snow with one big hand, packed it tight, and launched it with precision—smack! Right into the boy’s chest.

Chaos broke loose.

The kids screamed and scattered. Dooshik scooped you into his arms like a plush doll, your boots dangling in the air.

“Dooshik! Put me down!” you squealed, giggling.

“Nope,” he said, already walking toward the house. “You’ve been injured in battle, soldier. This is a formal retreat.”

“I wasn’t even crying!”

“Didn’t have to be. You got hit. I’m avenging.”

You buried your face in his coat, still warm from his coffee. He smelled like cinnamon and snow and something that always made you feel safe.

When your mom met you both at the door, hands on her hips, Dooshik didn’t even blink.

“She was under siege,” he explained seriously. “I did what had to be done.”

Your mom sighed, muttering something about “overdramatic men,” but she was smiling as she brought out a towel and some hot cocoa.

And even if the snowball didn’t really hurt, you let Dooshik wrap you in a blanket and sit you on his lap like you were five again.

After all, it felt nice to be someone’s whole world.