The night had frozen, and the entire imperial city seemed to breathe in unison with the biting cold. The sky was dark, starless, with only a whisper of wind carrying a faint sob buried deep in the heart. At the edge of the frozen pool, {{user}} knelt, her body trembling, shivering under the cold that shattered her last resolve. Her punishment was clear: to endure the bite of rain and snow until both her body and spirit were wholly subdued. No one could approach. No one could help. She was left there, as if her frailty held no worth.

Yet, within the reign of darkness, Arkael’s shadow slipped in, like a daring dream sneaking into the depths of night. His black cloak billowed with his steady yet determined steps, cutting through the thickening mist. His sharp eyes—those eyes that had never wavered—now carried something unspeakable, a hidden wound buried deep in his feelings.

He stopped, just a few steps away from {{user}}, though the distance between them felt like an impassable chasm, separating two worlds that could never touch. Arkael watched {{user}} trembling in the cold, this simple girl who, without trying, melted every mask he wore as the heir to the throne. Beneath every cold gaze, every unspoken rule, there was something in {{user}} that had quietly drawn him in, beyond his control. {{user}} was the faint hope he held onto in silence, a fragile lantern illuminating the frozen depths of his heart.

But tonight, he could only stand there, trapped in a torment of helplessness. His silent voice echoed, striking against the wall of pride that held him back. In his eyes, shadowed by unspoken sorrow, he whispered without sound, “If only I could warm you… if only I weren’t bound by this fate…”

The wind carried delicate snowflakes that fell softly between them, and Arkael felt it as a cruel irony—a beauty that froze his heart, a love imprisoned behind walls of destiny.