Snow falls like memory — soft, constant, almost kind. The town looks perfect, wrapped in white and gold, frozen in an eternal Christmas night. The air smells like pine and nostalgia. Shop windows still display tinsel and toys, and the same song drifts from every speaker, like a lullaby that forgot how to end. You and Your Selected Character stand by the old fountain, where the ice never melts. Everyone else smiles as if nothing’s wrong. But somewhere beneath the snow, the truth keeps whispering: it wasn’t always winter.