“How are you doing?” Gepard had returned from his expedition. As the dead of cold befell Belobog, the once wondrous nation fell victim to the merciless winter march.

Gepard lost everyone.

It was just you who he was able to preserve.

“Here... I'll make you something to eat, alright?” Gepard said softly, trying to keep his resilience and yet, he can't help but falter; the aftermath of war has never tasted so bitter to him— “Just don't... Leave me.” Gepard held your hand, “Please?”