The Snow Queen

From the perspective of Snake rather than Four Messara, he was complying with the interrogation while closely observing us. He was likely seeking a way to escape or survive. Cooperhead agreed with my assessment.

“Blonde, smart. Pretends to be nonchalant while subtly probing; sometimes I get caught off guard too.”

Anyway, it was frustrating. I was getting irritated. I spent my days drinking heavily. Everything about the situation was infuriating. Altonen seemed content with playing the role of a puppet, the princess was endorsed by the godless nobility, and the election for the assembly was clearly favoring the godless nobility. I was the only one left in a mess. It felt terrible.

“Is someone there?”

Leopard entered.

“Hmm. What is it?”

“What do you mean, what? What time is it, and you’re not clocking out?”

It was eleven at night. I clicked my tongue at Leopard.

“Chief, isn’t that a bit too submissive toward Redfox? Why are you drinking so much? It’s Saturday, and you’ve been drinking since this afternoon without going home.”

“Mind your own business.”

“What’s the issue? Redfox is recovering now, right? It’s just as you wished. Didn’t you scream not to let him die while clutching the head of the bed during his heart attack?”

I had been next to Leopard during the heart attack. If it were Cooperhead, I wouldn’t have been able to hold my head up in front of the chiefs. I lit a cigarette. It felt awful.

Leopard snatched the glass from me and poured it on the floor.

“Stop drinking so much. Seriously, when someone you wouldn’t expect messes up, it really hits hard. You’re our leader. The chiefs said they’d let you do whatever you want as long as you get all the information from Redfox. So why are you acting like this? What’s the reason? Cooperhead said you’ve been as quiet as a mouse during the interrogation. Why is the Emperor of Tricks acting like this?”

“Leave me alone.”

Leopard glared at me for a moment before leaving the office. I poured vodka into the glass again. The pitch-black darkness surrounded me. It resembled a situation I had seen in a terrible dream before. My image of drinking while facing a portrait of my wife resurfaced.

꙳•❅*ִ

“Tell me about Marquis Roth.”

“He’s stupid.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

The chief shrugged his shoulders and typed on the laptop. At the beginning of the interrogation, he had grumbled that my way of speaking was strange. He had insisted, “Stop with the evaluations and just give me the information!”

It had been a week since I arrived here. I was bored. I, who was used to holed up in a room, wasting time like water, felt the boredom. Was this a sign that I had regained some energy?

I spent the remaining time walking around the room, focusing on recovering my body. It wasn’t out of concern for my health, but merely boredom. I didn’t have a clock, so I could only guess, but it felt like I was being interrogated for three to four hours a day.

Snake and the chief always came to get information from me. They organized the names of the nobles in alphabetical order and asked questions one by one. There were a few names I didn’t expect. It was clear that there had been changes in the existing political landscape.

Today, Snake continued to silently glare at me. He seemed surprisingly idle. The chief, who always accompanied Snake, had a so-called “neat voice.” He brought a recorder and a laptop to tape my disclosures and take notes.

“That’s it for today.”

The neat voice closed the laptop and stood up. He left the room with Snake.

I lay back on the bed. There had been no questions about Lord Manen during the more than a week of interrogation. Lord Manen must be dead or completely fallen from grace. It felt bitter. Despite having climbed to Lotus after ten years of consulting with him, he had fallen into ruin in an instant due to greed. Still, having enjoyed such a life until that age wasn’t too bad.

Yesterday, I casually asked the neat voice a question.

“How did I get caught?”

Since Snake didn’t trust Ryeong and Wolfscott was extremely dissatisfied, I speculated that Snake was unlikely to directly ask Lord Manen about Ryeong. It was a leading question I had in mind.

The neat voice fell for my leading question.

“Do you think we’re fools? With all that handshake going on, who wouldn’t know…”

At that moment, Snake cracked the whip on the floor. The neat voice froze. It seemed like he realized something.

A short silence followed. Anger was clearly visible in the slightly trembling shoulders of the neat voice. I also tensed up. However, they left the room without taking any further action.

They were indeed formidable professionals. Given the events at the masquerade, Snake and the neat voice seemed awkward. They were likely afraid of taking any sexual actions. Yet they made no mention of that event.

The neat voice, who had been quite kind at the time, was now asking questions with precision as if nothing had happened. The tone was completely different. Snake merely maintained his position but intervened with the whip on critical points. He never missed a single one of my leading questions. His observational skills were frighteningly sharp. And he was taciturn. He was the so-called “man who speaks with the whip.”

I started organizing the situation piece by piece.

It seemed that Snake had deduced that Ryeong was lurking behind Lord Manen due to the media incident. The incident was something that I would inevitably lose to Snake if it weren’t for my abilities. After the media incident, Snake likely scrutinized Lord Manen closely and focused on the handshake. If that were the case, my ominous intuition about the Catacombe power plant incident also fell into place. It was a trap.

Snake had deceived even Wolfscott, setting a trap. By exploiting my clairvoyance, he induced carelessness and cleverly manipulated it so that Lord Manen would fall into the trap on his own. And this might be a hasty assumption, but it was highly probable that Wolfscott had suffered greatly at Snake’s hands. Wolfscott hated Ryeong. There was no way Wolfscott would have kept Ryeong alive until now.

If all of this was accurate, Chief Snake was truly a terrifying man. I had thought that noticing the handshake would be impossible with mediocre deduction skills. Most importantly, people tend to disregard supernatural phenomena. Snake must have seen through it purely by instinct. It gave me chills. He was indeed a man not to be turned into an enemy.

Not only Snake, but his subordinate captains were also experienced. You could tell just by their composed voices. Their teamwork was even impressive. Didn’t they laugh together amicably?

The interrogation was nearing its end. There wasn’t much time left. By then, I had to come up with some plan to escape.

After taking medicine, I took a bath. Still, the treatment wasn’t bad. It was enough to make me question the ominous rumors surrounding Guiger. They gave me my medicine regularly, and the food wasn’t bad. Although, once I lost my usefulness, it was obvious they would change their attitude immediately.

“Pathetic, just pathetic.”

I wonder if Messara knew. That I was being dragged to Guiger for interrogation. What was he doing now? Running through the streets, beating up protestors? Messara seemed to genuinely enjoy that job. The faint scent of blood that always lingered around him and the occasional cruelty he displayed didn’t make him seem like someone who would remain just a regular soldier.

Maybe in a few years, Messara might be promoted to captain as well. He was a smart and ruthlessly efficient man. But in my opinion, changing professions would be better for his future. I didn’t know what Snake’s plans were, but up until now, Guiger had been nothing more than a disposable tool for Wolfscott.

Come to think of it, I never asked Messara how old he was. How old could he be? He looked about twenty-five or twenty-six at a glance. It was possible I was older. If I said I was already twenty-seven, Messara would be surprised. After learning to smoke from Sonia, I would often be refused service when I went to buy cigarettes. That’s when I realized I had a baby face.

Yeah, I had a baby face.

I blankly stared at the mirror in the bathroom. The image of Whitebirch had completely disappeared. It was the face I had only seen in Sonia’s photos. It still didn’t feel real, so I touched my face with my hands. It was strange. Just like Sonia said, it was a face that could be described as pretty. But what good is a pretty face for a man?

Was it because of this face that perverts kept coming after me? It was kind of funny.

I put on my clothes and went back to bed. My hair reached down to my heels. Even though Whitebirch had disappeared, I still couldn’t bring myself to cut it. It was the same color Messara had described as “blond hair that shines even at night.” He often played with my hair, sometimes lost in thought. Despite appearances, he was a man who liked to ponder. While fiddling with my hair, he would sometimes laugh softly, and at other times, he would wear a creepy expression. I often wondered what was going through his mind.

I spent all my idle time thinking about Messara. There wasn’t anything else I could fondly reminisce about. No matter how many times I replayed my memories with him, they were always enjoyable and happy. Thinking of him cracking jokes made me smile. Aside from his perverted hobbies, he was an amusing man. Full of energy and wit. After sex, which often felt like a sport, he would always cheekily ask, “Did you like it?”

After sledding down a hill and having sex in a hotel, on the way back to the hospital, he even carried me on his back. Even though I said I could walk, he was insistent. He said he had always wanted to do it, laughing heartily. He ran while carrying me and spun around playfully. And then he would ask, “Are you having fun?”

He also loved washing and drying my hair. I had never washed my hair myself while I was in the hospital. He made a fuss, insisting I wait for him because he wanted to do it. He was not only patient but also stubborn. He was very different from me. Looking back, although we had a falling out due to an incident at the hospital, we had a lot of good memories there.

How boring must I have seemed to Messara? To love someone like me, he must have had strange tastes. What could he have liked about me? Suddenly, I remembered him saying, “I like soft nipples like these.” My face flushed with embarrassment.

That was so typical of Messara…

I felt depressed. The more I thought about Messara, the more I wanted to get out of this place. I was going crazy with how much I missed him. But there was no escape. It was impossible to break through Snake and his captains. I sighed heavily.

Should I offer to teach Snake Ryeong’s magic if he spared my life? That would have Marata jumping out of his grave.

My chest felt tight, as if a boulder was pressing down on it. I thrashed instinctively, suddenly opening my eyes in a panic. In the darkness, someone was pinning me down. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming. He was wearing a mask. It was one of the captains. I felt a chill run down my spine.

To say I didn’t expect something like this would be a lie, but it was still terrifying. I tried to push him off reflexively. He didn’t budge. My eyes fell on the floor and caught sight of a whip. It was Snake.

In cold rationality, it was best to stay quiet. Provoking him wouldn’t help my escape. But I was disgusted. I struggled with all my might. Snake didn’t react. Instead, he took off my top and spread my legs, pressing them against his hips.

“N-no, stop,” I stammered.

Snake ripped off my underwear and tossed it to the floor. I couldn’t tell if he was too drunk to understand or was pretending not to hear me. I pushed hard against his shoulders.

“Stop it! I said stop! No! I don’t want this!”

“…You don’t want it?” Snake spoke shortly, his voice cold as ice. I flinched.

It was the first time I heard Snake’s voice, but it sounded familiar. That couldn’t be possible. I shouted again.

“Stop it! Stop! I said stop!”

“It’s me!” Snake yelled, almost hysterically. Then he ripped off his mask.

“It’s me!”

It was Messara.

I froze, paralyzed.

W-what… what is this?

It was definitely Messara.

Guiger Chief was Snake. Snake was Messara.

Messara was Snake…?

“Stay still,” Messara muttered softly, his tone filled with anger and frustration. He had completely lost his senses in his drunken state. I couldn’t move. No, I was unable to move. If Snake’s face had turned out to be that of a wolf or a polar bear, I wouldn’t have been more shocked than I was at that moment. It was an utterly incomprehensible situation.

Messara fumbled with me for a moment before standing up and removing his clothes. Then he leaned over again, devouring me for a long time. Like a starving animal. I was overwhelmed and on the verge of losing consciousness multiple times as Messara relentlessly pushed me. After three ejaculations inside me, Messara finally pulled away. I barely managed to breathe.

Messara had a habit of gripping my waist tightly during intercourse. This time was no exception. In fact, it was harsher than usual. All three times, he chose positions where I was facing forward. I guessed that before, Messara had been considerate of my habits and tried to enter me from behind. Now, he was clearly full of anger.

Messara covered his eyes with his arm, breathing heavily.

I just stared at the ceiling. Messara was Snake. I still couldn’t believe it. Snake was Messara?

I knew he was a member of Guiger. Messara had never hidden his identity from the start. But Chief? Snake? It was beyond absurd.

In my eyes, he was just a perverted but cheerful guy who had nothing better to do than hang around poor neighborhoods. But Snake and Messara were the same person?

The Snake who, without hesitation, pulled out a gun and fired at me in the cemetery, and the Messara who constantly nagged me to go to the hospital, were the same person?

“My cock was good, wasn’t it?” Messara said. His drunken tone carried traces of anger. I didn’t understand what he meant, so I stayed silent.

“My cock was pretty good, wasn’t it? You liked sucking it, didn’t you? I know everything. Tell me. Did you approach me knowing I was Snake from the start? Or did you just like my cock? Answer me. I’m asking you.”

“…I didn’t know.”

“He didn’t know. Hahaha.”

He was drunk and out of his mind. Was he suspicious of me? But my answer was the truth.

It dawned on me late. The unusually good treatment, Snake staying by my bedside—all of it made sense. My head throbbed. Messara must have been stunned after shooting me too.

“I know! I know! I said I know! You didn’t know!”

Messara shouted, pounding the mattress with his fist. I, too, had no idea what was happening, and Messara clearly needed to calm down.

“Just rest for now,” I said, pulling the sheet and turning away. But in an instant, Messara grabbed me and forced me to face him.

“Don’t turn your back on me. Fix that arrogant attitude right now. I hate it. I hate it.”

“…”

His gray eyes glowed as if they were burning. I didn’t know what he meant by ‘arrogant attitude,’ but it seemed wise not to turn my back. I remained still.

Messara bit his lip and glared at me. Instinctively, I averted my eyes, but he immediately grabbed my chin and made me look at him.

“Don’t avoid my eyes. Look at me straight. Fix that habit too.”

I knew Messara hated my habits. But up until now, he had never expressed it so directly. Except during sex, it seemed like he tried to accommodate me. But now, seeing him act so forcefully left me shocked. Even if I tried to blame it on the alcohol, I was scared.

Messara was Snake. His current behavior was a mix of his usual self and Snake’s true nature. As I fought my fear, I met Messara’s gaze. His face showed that he was barely suppressing his anger. His gray eyes, heavy with intoxication, flickered with rage and pain. His face was a mess, and it was probably because of me.

Messara took a deep breath and kissed me. It was a gentle and intense kiss, completely different from his rough attitude. When he pulled away, he collapsed into sleep. Trapped in his embrace, I blinked, still in shock.

I was left dazed. Messara was Snake. Snake was Messara. Those two sentences kept circling in my mind.

How could this be?

I remembered when I first met Messara and his friend. I recalled having sex with them seven or eight times. I couldn’t remember a single instance when they called each other by name. Even the Guiger officers didn’t know each other’s real names. That made it likely that Messara’s friend was also a Guiger officer.

I recalled when I gathered Snake’s thoughts. In a moment of melancholy, the word that came to mind was none other than my name. I had dismissed it as a coincidence, thinking it was someone with the same name as me related to Snake. But looking back, it had probably been my name. At that time, Messara and I had already separated. If he was upset about that, it all fit.

I finally understood Snake’s intense reaction during the drinking session. When I talked about perverts, Messara had laughed and said, “I would’ve broken all their necks.” That wasn’t a joke. When he beat up the pervert who had harassed me, he had even viciously crushed his genitals. If I also considered how he had shouted at me about Sonia, it was clear that Messara hated any man who approached me and was extremely jealous.

I also understood the meaning behind the large check Snake had thrown at me. Messara didn’t like my miserable state. He mocked my worn-out coat, my endless stories about Ryeong, my habit of sewing doll eyes, and my disregard for my own health. He must have been exasperated by the fact that I worked at these obscene parties and threw myself at any man.

When Messara answered my phone call, he had said, “Hmm. What is it?” His tone was nothing like how he usually spoke to me. Does anyone answer the phone like that? He had remained silent as I hesitated, and then coldly said, “What is it?” in a tone that could have been used to scold a subordinate. Messara’s phone had been Snake’s personal phone.

Fear surged inside me. I had suspected that Messara wasn’t just an ordinary member, but finding out that he wasn’t just an officer, but Snake himself, was beyond shocking. I didn’t know; we didn’t know. And all this time, we had been watching each other like this. I was terrified. Cold chills spread through my entire body.

Messara must have felt something similar when he found out who I was. He must have been shaken to his core. It sent shivers down my spine. It felt like someone had played a cruel joke on both of us. Messara must have searched my house and my secondhand bookstore to find my counseling notes. I couldn’t even imagine how he felt reading through that hideous record. I didn’t want to.

Messara had been hiding something beyond the mischievous side he had shown me. But I didn’t think the version of him that I had liked was a lie.

I couldn’t understand why. Of all people, why did Messara have to be Snake? And why did he have to uncover my ugly side? It was all horribly cruel. Was this poetic justice? Was I being punished?

Messara murmured in his sleep and hugged me tighter. I felt suffocated. I couldn’t breathe, but what mattered most now was helping him regain his composure. He must have been tormented by the fact that he had shot me. I understood why he had stayed silent all this time—he must have agonized over how to reveal his identity. I could only imagine the pain he felt as I convulsed on the hospital bed. His face showed it all. My heart ached.

Suddenly, Messara stirred and muttered in his sleep.

“Even for a moment… please… Whitebirch.”

I remained dazed.

꙳•❅*ִ

My head hurt. It felt like the back of my skull was going to explode. For a moment, I couldn’t make sense of anything. It felt like a nightmare. I couldn’t remember it, but it must have been terrifying enough to make me feel relieved that it was just a dream. I barely opened my eyes.

“Damn it.”

Where am I?

I blinked. I was lying beneath a dim ceiling. A cold chill seeped into my body. Suddenly, last night’s actions flashed through my mind, and it felt like I had been struck in the back of the head.

What… have I done?

On Saturday morning, I finished work and locked myself in the office, drinking from the afternoon on. I could handle alcohol well. I’d never been drunk before. But yesterday, from 1 PM to 2 AM, I drank vodka non-stop. No matter how strong I was, there was no way I could avoid getting drunk.

Then I suddenly got up and went down to the underground torture chamber. Even after drinking so much, I didn’t stagger at all.

And then…

I swallowed dryly. My eyes flicked downward, and I saw amber-colored hair resting against my chest.

My mind went blank. Ray was still in no condition to move around. And I had… I had done unspeakable things while holding him. I had lost control, yelling all sorts of terrible things at him. It was the worst. Even if I got down on my knees and begged, it wouldn’t be enough. Instead, I had thrown myself into the flames.

I hastily sat up. Ray gazed at me blankly. His blue eyes were vacant, showing no anger, no disappointment—just stillness. It was the same look he had when he said, “You’d better cool your head, Messara.” Exactly the same.

“…In a little while, they’ll bring breakfast,” Ray said. My face flushed with heat. I quickly dressed and put on that damn mask. Ray, too, slowly started to get dressed. Moments later, I heard movement outside the door.

The interrogator brought in our meals but froze for a moment. Sensing the tension, he quickly placed the food down and left in a hurry. The sight of a blonde beauty and the Chief together at seven in the morning—there was no doubt about what he’d assume. It pissed me off.

As I helped Ray into a chair, my mind was in complete disarray. I had lost control last night and, without using protection, ejaculated inside him like a madman. It wasn’t sex—it was abuse. His expressionless face revealed nothing. Was he angry? Of course, he had to be.

Ray was only poking at his food with a fork. I sat in front of him, mask off, letting time drag on. A suffocating weight pressed down on my chest. A strange, creeping sensation spread throughout my body—both hot and cold at the same time. Memories of the time we had spent together flashed before my eyes. We could never go back to those moments. Now, we had come to this.

I removed my mask in front of him. One thing was clear.

I wanted to start over.

“…I’m sorry,” I finally said, my voice strained. Ray continued to move his fork.

“Yes, this is who I am,” I said again.

He gave no response, his fork coming to a halt.

“I shot you in the chest, and I beat up your superior,” I said painfully, but still, there was no reply.

“Yes. I am Snake.”

Ray finally put down his fork and spoke.

“I can’t blame you for that. After all, I targeted you as well.”

His blue eyes stared at me, his gaze strange, as though he were looking at a rare alien species.

After a long pause, Ray suddenly asked, “What did you dream about last night?”

“Huh?” I was caught off guard by the random question.

“I don’t remember,” I said.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Ray let out a small laugh, a crooked smile that didn’t suit him.

“Well, of course, you don’t.”

Even his tone was odd.

I remained silent.

Stay calm, Four.

This is the most important moment of your life.

I opened my mouth, almost whispering.

“I love you.”

Ray’s eyes froze again. I hated that look in his eyes. I was terrified of the cruel words that might follow. It felt like my heart had stopped.

“…I know it’s hard to believe. I know it makes no sense. I’ve done terrible things to you,” I said, pain and frustration gnawing at my bones.

Ray lowered his eyes and fidgeted with the hem of his clothes.

“But I need to say this. I love you. You’re the first for me. I’ve never felt this way before.”

His hand, which had been fiddling with his clothes, abruptly stopped. It began to tremble violently—an intense movement.

Ray jerked his head up, and instinctively, I took a step back. That gaze—it was the same furious, vengeful look he had given me from the hospital bed.

“Impossible! Don’t mess with me!”

“What do you mean, ‘mess with you?’” I responded immediately, his fierce reaction igniting a fire in me.

Messing with you?

“Why do you think this is a joke? Why would I joke about something like this with you?”

Ray stared at me without a hint of movement.

“What could I possibly gain from messing with you? I’m serious. And didn’t you tell me before? You said you loved me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“…If you still feel the same way.”

“And so what? You want to start over?”

Ray laughed. His eyes flickered, his lips curling into a strange smile. It was a look filled with rage, distrust, and contempt. All of it was aimed at me.

It was the first time I’d ever seen him like that, and I never imagined I would.

I stayed silent. It felt like I was barely clinging to the edge of a cliff. A difficult-to-describe emotion dug into my entire being. In front of me, an overwhelming and cold darkness unfolded once more. The only sound was the ticking of the minute hand, a dry, empty time filling the space.

I tried to regain my composure, clenching my fists so tightly it felt like I might draw blood.

“How selfish. You know full well the past can never be undone,” Ray said with another smile, briefly locking his gaze on me.

“If you were under the delusion that one word could set everything back to the way it was, then stop it right now!” Ray shouted, his body shaking with anger, his fists clenched.

Something rippled inside me, spreading uncontrollably.

He rejected me.

With his entire body, he refused me.

He pushed me away.

He ordered me to leave.

He made his stance perfectly clear.

I bit my dry lips. Stay calm, Four.

“Yes, there’s no going back. I shot you, and I trapped your superior,” I said. One thing was certain:

I did not want to become Ray’s darkness.

The darkness in front of me would end if I simply endured, but I couldn’t let myself become a shadow cast over him. I hated the illness that clung to Ray, the poverty, the darkness. I couldn’t let myself add to that shadow.

I had already done more than enough harm to Ray. And now, Ray was commanding me to leave, clearly and firmly. I had to step back. That was what Ray wanted from me.

Was this truly the end?

Was this the final moment?

Was this the last time?

My chest felt heavy.

But it was fine. My strength lay in knowing when to advance and when to retreat.

“I was too selfish, asking for your feelings on top of everything else. I’m sorry. I was thinking only of myself. I won’t bother you again.”

If Ray was rejecting me, I had to let him go.

It didn’t matter. This was enough. I had already experienced more than enough. Meeting Ray, I had spent unforgettable moments in love. I would never forget, even until my dying day. We walked together, rode sleds, traveled, danced, kissed. I said, “I love you,” and heard the reply, “I love you, too.”

The moment Ray’s heart had stopped, I realized what I truly wanted. I desired only one thing. I didn’t want him to die. I wanted him to live.

And Ray was alive. He was alive, breathing vividly. His body pulsed warmly, his blonde hair falling, his blue eyes gazing at me. Four Messara had tried to do something for Ray Arisa. I had struggled to atone, to breathe life into the cold Galatea. That had to be enough. With just that, I was the happiest man in the world.

“I didn’t consider your feelings at all. I’m sorry.”

I knelt before him.

“I sincerely apologize.”

As I spoke, I kissed his hand.

“I love you.”

God had thrown someone into my life—a person who was timid, melancholic, and powerless, but who had gifted me with the dance of love. A brilliant and passionate dance. And now, he was flapping his wings, ready to leave me. All that awaited me was the long stretch of time, in which I would reminisce about him until I died. It didn’t matter. In my 29 years of life, emotions I had never once felt before surged through me like a downpour on a hot afternoon, drenching me to the point of madness. In the end, I had drowned. I was engulfed in the sea of love, wrapped in his damp flaxen hair. I would never be able to escape.

Because I had already died.

Because Ray Arisa had killed me.

꙳•❅*ִ

Stop it. Don’t go!

Messara slowly stood up, then turned and left the room. The door closed behind him.

I sat there, stunned.

It couldn’t be. Messara couldn’t be Daytanz.

Tears began to wet my cheeks.

“Sincerely, I apologize. I love you.”

Those were the words Whitebirch had wanted to hear.

Why?

Why did I have to hear those words?

He was the one who told me he loved me. He was the first person to knock on a door that no one had ever knocked on before. He was the one who desperately reached out, embraced me tenderly, and told me he wanted me. He was the one who made me feel alive, made me laugh, made me long for him. He was the first to give me something no one else had ever given.

Why did I have to hear the words meant for Whitebirch?

Why were you saying Daytanz’s words?

This couldn’t be happening. Come back. It was my fault.

I love you.

I am not Whitebirch. I am Ray Arisa.

The person I love is you.

“I just have to say this. I love you. You’re the first for me. I’ve never felt this way before…”

Those were the exact words Daytanz had said in the Whitebirch forest.

But I just have to say this. I love you. You’re the first for me. I’ve never felt this way before…

Even the order was the same.

This couldn’t be happening.

I collapsed onto the floor. Something inside me was being torn apart. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be. It was just a dream born of my own wishful thinking.

Come back.

Give me one more chance.

A sob burst from my throat.

The next day, I was released from Guiger. A clear voice told me I could go home. Then they handed me a shopping bag. They said it was from Snake and that I must accept it. Inside were clothes and jewelry.

I was momentarily struck dumb. Among the jewels, the necklace caught my eye. It was the same necklace that had been around my neck when I woke up a week after my memory had vanished. Had I been with Messara all this time? I couldn’t make sense of it.

One thing was clear—it was a farewell.

It was spring. I put on the clothes Messara had given me and went out into the streets. My hair, which reached down to my heels, drew stares. I was still afraid of the gazes of others, but I kept walking.

My mind was empty. It felt like I had been running through a long, dark tunnel and had just emerged into the light. But the light was so blinding that I couldn’t make out what was in front of me.

Light…

It was a sensation far removed from what I had imagined. If it were truly light, it should have felt warm and gentle, but the cold that surrounded me remained unchanged.

I walked slowly along the river, lost in thought.

Abandoned by my parents in childhood, I had been raised by an Asian sorcerer. I had betrayed the intentions of the one who raised me and walked down a path of vile conspiracy. I had lashed out in misguided anger, trapped by fleeting illusions. My life was filthy.

Could Messara really be Daytanz?

I had sometimes imagined it. If Whitebirch had been reborn as Ray Arisa, then perhaps Daytanz had also returned in the same time and space.

But why Messara, of all people?

How could he be the person who had once bestowed upon me unparalleled happiness?

The gray eyes came to life again. They were the eyes of a corpse. Just like the Daytanz I had seen in my dreams—he was a living corpse. Slowly, he rose, turned his back to me, and walked away. The door closed.

And I was left alone. I had returned to the time before I met Messara, to that moment, to a space where only loneliness and silence lingered.

It was like the tower where Whitebirch had stayed, cold with an eerie chill.

The one who had shouted not to turn their back on me had turned their back. The one who had told me to look them straight in the eyes had averted their gaze.

All the vibrancy and life I had loved so much had crumbled and disappeared into the distance.

This can’t be happening.

I saw a reflection in the blue river. A figure with blonde hair fluttering in the wind and lifeless eyes—it was me.

I resumed my life, going back and forth between the secondhand bookstore and home. It seemed that this dull repetition was Ray Arisa’s true nature. Before Whitebirch, I must have lived like a mole, burrowing in the dark.

Guiger was still keeping an eye on me. I hadn’t noticed it at first, but now it was clear. Four plainclothes agents were stationed near my home and the secondhand bookstore, watching me. Messara was thorough in his work. Regardless of any personal feelings, he had dragged me to the underground torture chamber for interrogation the moment I had recovered. There was no way he would neglect keeping me under surveillance.

A few days ago, I mustered up the courage to cut my hair. If I left it any longer, it would turn into a broom rather than hair. Though I only cut it to the length of my calves, it was a bold move for me.

I spent an entire month consumed by thoughts about the connection between Messara and Daytanz. The reason I had concluded Messara was Daytanz came from something said in a sleep talk. In the story I had told Messara about “JeongRyeong,” the line “Even if only for a moment… Whitebirch” wasn’t there. I had altered the story I saw in my dream when telling Messara, and at the time, he had responded indifferently.

Could it really be true? Could Messara truly be Daytanz?

It seemed possible. Some parts of Ray Arisa were distinct from Whitebirch, but others were exactly the same. Messara was different from Daytanz in many ways, yet in some ways, he was identical. Messara’s mischievousness and wit were his own, but his cruelty and cunning mirrored Daytanz.

If that was the case, it was unbearably cruel. The one I loved was the same person I loathed. Whitebirch still had a hold on me, not only taking away the hallucinations and pain but also robbing me of the happiness I could have had as Ray Arisa.

I didn’t want to believe it. Even if it wasn’t true, I had already pushed him away. I had turned his once vibrant, glowing eyes into those of a corpse. I had extinguished the life that once overflowed from his body. If Messara wasn’t Daytanz, I had made an irreversible mistake for both him and myself.

Whitebirch…

You’re still playing tricks on me.

Time passed on. Other than Whitebirch being gone, Ray Arisa’s life remained the same. I continued to wear winter clothes even in spring. I couldn’t feel at ease otherwise. My habit of fearing others’ gazes hadn’t changed.

The only thing different was that I no longer spoke with Lord Manen over the phone, and occasionally, people who appeared to be nobles with tattoos loitered near the secondhand bookstore. They were likely lingering because they realized that Guiger was monitoring me, but the exact reason remained unknown. It seemed like the surveillance agents usually took care of the situation.

The election was just around the corner. 42nd Street was abuzz with excitement over the event. Yesterday, I caught a glimpse of Messara from afar. He was accompanying Altonen, who had come to 42nd Street. He looked just the same, standing motionless with a whip in hand.

Seeing him brought back memories of a time long past. In the biting cold wind, I had thrown a red flower into the air. The crowd, forced to gather, had cheered and clapped. The only difference now was that the crowd was voluntarily cheering. Nowadays, Altonen and the martial nobles were more popular than ever.

Watching the news and media gave me a strange feeling. I could see Messara subtly plotting behind Altonen. Altonen was probably just a puppet in Messara’s hands. In just a few months, the outside world had changed dramatically.

If my suspicions were correct, Messara was the mastermind behind all these changes. There was a high likelihood that Lord Manen had been killed by Messara. I was convinced that Wolfscott’s misfortune was no accident. It was unthinkable that such outrageous events could all happen simultaneously. His boldness was breathtaking. Seeing Daytanz’s reflection in Messara made my insides twist.

This can’t be happening.

How could you be that bastard?

I never realized how deeply I loved Messara. Unlike the emotional Whitebirch, I wasn’t the type to pour my feelings out in a frenzy. I could only think of Messara passively and occasionally shed a tear.

But that wasn’t the case. I wasn’t just moderately in love with Messara. It was hard to put into words, but I loved him deeply, profoundly. Whenever I saw the jewels and clothes Messara had given me, I felt conflicted. Those gifts should have been for Whitebirch, not me.

Messara seemed to despise my misery, but I never found poverty shameful, only pitiful at times. What I desired was not the clothes or jewelry—it was Messara. I longed for someone who would love me.

When Messara turned into a corpse, I felt something inside me break. It was shredded to pieces, completely torn apart. It felt like it was my soul. In that moment, I too had died with him.

It had been three months since I was released from Guiger. I bought mackerel and returned home.

Mackerel.

Bitter memories resurfaced. One evening, I couldn’t resist my hunger and rushed outside, where I bumped into Messara. At first, I vaguely recognized his face. Why did I invite him into my house back then? “Do you like mackerel?” How absurd.

I must have been out of my mind, perhaps because of the faint hope that something might change if we had sex. Or maybe it was the urgency with which he embraced me when I collapsed.

Back then, I saw him as nothing more than a violent man obsessed with perverse acts. As usual, Messara satisfied his desires until the end. Then, he gave me medicine and watched over me for a long time before leaving. Even in my pain, I thought, “What a strange man.” Whenever I briefly opened my eyes, he was there, looking down at me. Now that I think about it, that was just so typical of Messara.

Twilight bloomed. If only it snowed, and if Messara were here, it would feel exactly like that day.

But that day will never return. Time and language only remain as memories once they pass. Once spilled, they can never be gathered again.

In the three months since we parted, countless urges arose. Maybe if I ran to Snow White, I could meet Messara…

Each time, I shook my head, telling myself, “He’s Daytanz.” It seemed more and more likely. I spent three relentless months watching closely, hoping against hope. But now, I was certain.

These days, Altonen had risen to become a powerful figure, controlling both the king and the military nobles. Considering the timeframe, it was an impressive rise. Altonen formed strong alliances with commoner representative Orkis and Senator Fontane, and toppled three powerful tattooed nobles by exposing scandals. He then returned their vast wealth to society, solidifying his grip on public support. While he was currently just Lord Wolfscott’s deputy, many predicted that he would soon ascend to Japonica as the youngest in history.

Reflecting on these events stirred strange feelings in me. The meticulous strategy that seized both public support and power simultaneously reminded me of the Whitebirch incident. It felt like a nail was being hammered into my chest.

Why…

Once again, the question returned. Why Messara, of all people? Why must Daytanz be Messara?

And why did he fall in love with me in this life? Of all people, why Ray Arisa, the reincarnation of Whitebirch?

Whenever I thought of this, a scene flashed before my eyes—Daytanz, sitting before Whitebirch’s portrait, drinking himself into a stupor, his face like a corpse.

Could it be… did that bastard really love Whitebirch? Did he want to love Whitebirch again, even after being reborn?

No! That can’t be!

I retraced the moments from when I first met Messara to when we parted.

It felt like we had been running through a pitch-black tunnel together, hand in hand. Yet, I hadn’t noticed it at all. I had been swept away by emotions, rushing forward blindly, as if pushed by an unseen hand.

Then, what was the name of that final destination?

Revenge?

Separation?

Suddenly, a deafening honk snapped me out of my thoughts. I realized I was standing in the middle of a crosswalk. The light was red, yet I had been mindlessly walking forward.

The car that honked was now stopped in front of me. The windows were tinted black, so I couldn’t see inside. I quickly bowed my head and hurried across the street.

As I walked, I gazed into the empty sky. The twilight was settling in. It was funny. I saw Messara in that car that honked at me. Was it just the car? Even the creaking sounds of boards outside my door made me jump. I was scared of how long this endless time would stretch on.

Winter was approaching. For days now, snow had been falling steadily.

Sitting at the counter of the used bookstore, I was reading a book when I glanced absentmindedly toward the glass door. I saw a figure with long, flowing blonde hair. Behind him, the desolate street stretched out. Only a few scattered passersby walked through the darkening streets. I stared blankly outside for a moment before returning my eyes to the book.

When was it…?

It must have been around this time last year when I ran out of the house and headed to Snow White. I went down the dim stairs and took a seat, guided by the staff. In the reflection of my cocktail glass, I saw two men sitting across from me. They stared at me with surly expressions, one with blonde hair and gray eyes, the other with silver hair and gray eyes. Both were wearing black coats buttoned up to their necks.

It felt like a similar atmosphere, I thought, as I continued to stare at the cocktail glass. And then…

I looked up. I sensed someone outside the door. A tingling sensation swept over me. I quickly closed the book and rushed outside. There was nothing there.

In the distance, the headlights of a car drew a line as it disappeared.

A snowstorm was raging. Walking through the snow that reached up to my ankles, I eventually stumbled and fell.

“Ah…”

Exhausted, I gazed up at the sky. The Snow Queen was dancing.

The Snow Queen…

A gust of wind blew back my hood, and my hair fluttered wildly, mixing with the falling snow. A passing child stared at me in surprise. I hurriedly stood up, brushed off the snow, and started walking again. As I opened the door to the used bookstore, I glanced down the alley to my left. If I walked a little further, I would reach Snow White.

I’m so tired…

“Ugh, disgusting. Disgusting. The Snow Queen.”

A passerby grumbled as they spat gum onto the sidewalk. I looked up at the sky again. A strange feeling washed over me. Whitebirch was a being that belonged only to me, yet people were taking their frustration out on the innocent sky. I stopped trying to open the bookstore door and instead slowly walked away.

It had been seven months since I parted ways with Messara. Winter was now into its second month. We had both returned to our original places. Messara was living diligently, enjoying what he loved and advancing down the path of success. I too was living as I always had, spending my days between the secondhand bookstore and home. We had returned to where we started.

To where we started.

At that place, I fixated on one thought—why were Messara and I born in the same time and space, destined to form this connection?

Ray Arisa had always charged down the path of revenge. As the personal sorcerer of Lord Manen, she exacted her long-standing vengeance by causing trouble for the innocent noble warriors. And then, out of nowhere, she was seized by love, falling into it like a fever. She never imagined that this love would ultimately turn out to be the truest form of her revenge.

Even now, seven months later, I vividly remembered it. The moment I rejected Messara’s love, the life vanished from his eyes. They looked like the eyes of a corpse. At the age of twenty-seven, the love that had suddenly, like magic, come to me transformed in an instant into the blade of revenge, mercilessly killing him.

Was revenge the true name of my love? But it was Messara who had breathed life into that love within me, wasn’t it?

Messara didn’t give me a good first impression. If he hadn’t persistently visited my home, admitted me to the hospital when I was ill, and kept showing me attention, I probably wouldn’t have fallen in love with him. Ray Arisa’s love was entirely a result of Four Messara’s love for her. There was something chilling about that.

If Messara hadn’t loved me…

He would have been nothing more than a fleeting one-night encounter, soon forgotten. My love wouldn’t have ended up killing him so brutally. Why did Messara love me? Why did he love Ray Arisa, poor and pathetic, spending one-night stands with just anyone?

Trying not to think about it was useless. No matter how much I cut it off, it kept growing back, like hair returning to its original length. I kept reliving his gestures and words. I thought about the clothes and jewelry. Who were they really for? Was it an expression of guilt he felt toward Whitebirch? Was he born here to atone to Whitebirch? Did he say to me what Whitebirch had wanted to hear, give me gifts to make amends? Was it Whitebirch, not Ray, whom Messara truly loved?

Stop!

I’m not Whitebirch!

If it was only Whitebirch within me that his soul desired…

One thing was clear: I was separate from Whitebirch. Though we shared a soul, our personalities were different. We existed in different times, in different spaces, with different bodies. Our genders were different. Our names were different. And Whitebirch was gone. Ray Arisa had overcome Whitebirch and returned to her rightful place.

Yet I still…

Suddenly, I bumped into someone at a corner and fell over.

“I’m sorry.”

I quickly got up. The passerby looked like he was about to say something but then stopped. He stared at me with an odd look in his eyes. Is he some kind of creep? I started to feel uncomfortable but then realized that there was something strangely familiar about him. I couldn’t pinpoint why, but it was clearly a face I had never seen before. Was it his tall build that reminded me of Messara?

“I’m sorry.”

I bowed once again and passed the man. He said, “It’s okay.” I walked a few more steps before I stopped. I remembered—it was his “polite voice.”

When I turned around, he had already disappeared. He was an intellectual-looking man with a clean appearance, just like his voice. Perhaps Messara was nearby too.

Maybe he’s close by.

Maybe he’s here.

I looked up at the sky again. Today, something felt off. A sense of suffocation welled up inside my chest. Why was that? Was it because around this time last year, my relationship with Messara had progressed so quickly?

A lot had happened since then. My emotions had fluctuated like a rollercoaster, and my personal life had experienced turbulence. And now, I was alone.

Am I really alone?

I looked back. In the distance, three or four cars sped down the road.

I turned my head back around and started walking again. I bit my lip and continued walking, walking endlessly. The snow kept falling. A blizzard of pure white was covering the sky like mist.

Before long, the Drasil River appeared close by. A single withered tree stood alone on the vast riverbank, like an ancient monument. The wind scattered its branches.

I slowly wandered along the desolate riverbank. The cold surrounding the river was as still as death. The only thing moving was the dark waves swirling beneath the thin ice sheets, like the lethargic movement of a sleepwalker.

In a few days, the river would freeze solid, and the waves would disappear. But even under the ice, the current would still flow…

The wind carried the sound of weeds rustling, as if they were sobbing. Someone faintly drifted across the inky ice. Only their clothes were different—it was exactly the same as seven months ago. With their long blonde hair blowing in the wind, someone stood there with dead eyes, like a drowned corpse. I stared down at the figure, motionless. I couldn’t understand why that sight brought back memories of that day. Was it because it was so similar to now?

It was a winter day when snow kept falling incessantly. Seventeen years ago, I had visited the courthouse to complete the formalities of registering my surname. Back then, I had only the name Ray—no surname. The family register official told me that I needed a surname to proceed with the process.

“Don’t you have a surname you’d like?”

“Not really… Just write whatever comes to mind.”

“My, look at this kid.”

The woman furrowed her brows in thought.

“How about Arisa then? The only thing I remember from my home country when I was little was the great river that flowed majestically through the city. That river was originally called Arisu. I don’t think there’s any other river in the world as big as that one.”

“Isn’t the ocean bigger?”

“You meet the ocean by following a river, don’t you? Anyway, let’s modify Arisu to Arisa. Arisu sounds more like a given name, so Arisa will work better as a surname.”

On my way home, I chuckled. What an odd surname, I thought, laughing to myself. Marata, who was of Japanese descent, had given me the name Ray, meaning “soul.” And now I had a surname that meant “river.” It was strange in some way. A soul and a river—does that mean the soul flows down the river and meets the sea?

It was like that then, too. Walking along this path, I looked at the river. Enveloped in a suffocating flurry of snow blossoms.

Ray Arisa.

Marata always worried about the intense desire for revenge that I harbored deep within. That must be why she left a will asking me not to sign an exclusive contract. She must have guessed that I would choose Lord Manen as my exclusive contract partner. And just before taking her final breath, Marata said,

“Be strong. Live like your name, like the flowing river. Only then can you find happiness.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them again. A bitter sensation surged through my entire body. Finally, I understood the meaning imbued in Marata’s will.

Like the flowing river…

I knew. I had always known. Messara and I, we had never returned to where we belonged.

Messara still lingered around me. He stayed at a distance, merely watching me. I couldn’t see him, but I vividly sensed his breath, his scent. In the occasional car that caught my eye while walking, or in the black shadow I sometimes found around old bookstores.

And I, too, couldn’t approach him. I merely longed for him from afar, desperately suppressing and ignoring my true feelings—like tying down a boat that wanted to flow along the river.

The first thing I did after being released from Guiger’s headquarters and returning home was to get Messara’s phone number from Mr. Rudd again. Even after that, I remained bound by Whitebirch and couldn’t muster the courage.

Whitebirch hadn’t disappeared. Even now, it continued to entangle me, constantly beckoning me to play. Sometimes like a younger sister, but mostly like a sworn enemy, Whitebirch still blurred my vision. It trapped me, whispering lies, urging me to deceive myself. Like a disease, it kept me shackled. The only things that had changed were the face and hair color in the mirror. Yet, I lied to myself, saying Whitebirch was gone. I muttered the falsehood that Ray Arisa had overcome Whitebirch, and that all that was left was to forget completely. I struggled desperately to believe that I had returned to where I belonged.

I always told myself that I was not Whitebirch. I repeated that I was different from it. Yet, I couldn’t break free. If I wasn’t Whitebirch, then Messara wasn’t Daytanz either.

I shared only my soul with Whitebirch. The same was true for Messara. Daytanz and Messara existed in different times. In different spaces. In different bodies. With different names. I had known this from the beginning, but I had ignored and denied it until now.

I wanted to be happy now. I no longer wanted to spend nights alone in a cold, lonely room. And I knew how to be happy. I had always known, but I pretended not to, out of guilt toward Whitebirch.

But I couldn’t endure any longer. I was aching with loneliness. And Messara and I, we longed for each other with all our hearts.

I no longer… want to deceive myself or Messara. Not anymore.

I took a step forward. There was something I had never said, even in my heart. I had hidden it out of guilt toward Whitebirch.

Even if Messara was Daytanz, I couldn’t hate him.

I love Messara.

And I knew the name of the destination. I had realized it from the start, but I had pretended not to. I forced myself to shake my head, deceiving myself.

That name was “completion.”

We had run hand in hand through a tunnel of revenge and reconciliation. And that tunnel had not yet ended.

I no longer wanted to simply exude fragrance and flee. I had to walk the present and the future, not a hollow past. I had always known that completely forgetting Whitebirch was impossible. I would no longer hate Whitebirch. I decided to warmly embrace and accept her. That was the way I could fill the remaining time as Ray Arisa.

I must not step backward.

Even from now on, I must move forward. Like a river that flows quietly and steadily.

Messara looked straight into my eyes and said, “I love you.” He said, “I love Ray Arisa.”

I couldn’t say our connection had nothing to do with the bad ties from our past lives. But that was okay. He and I were not in the past but here, now, in this place.

The Snow Queen raged in the sky. Before I rode a sled, snow was synonymous with death for me. I first realized the joy snow brought through Messara. People would continue to associate falling snow with Whitebirch. But snow was snow, and Whitebirch was Whitebirch. He was Four Messara, and I was Ray Arisa. The one Ray Arisa loved was Four Messara.

I grabbed a handful of snow, looked down at it briefly, and threw it hard into the air. It quickly disappeared into the pouring snowfall.

I took a step. Walking, and walking again, through the suffocating snowstorm. Before I knew it, I had left the riverside. At the end of the frozen, ash-gray path was an intersection. Next to a lonely traffic light blinking red was a phone booth.

Like the flowing river… I muttered to myself, as if vowing.

The traffic light changed. Once again, Whitebirch beckoned to me from afar.

But I took another step forward.

I entered the phone booth and picked up the receiver. I inserted the coin and slowly dialed the number. After a few rings, there was a click.

“Yeah. What is it?”

It was a nonchalant voice. For a moment, I couldn’t move.

It’s his voice.

The voice of Four Messara, the one Ray Arisa loves.

It was the voice that had echoed in my ears thousands and tens of thousands of times during the long time we were apart. It wasn’t like a moonlit dream that scattered no matter how much I squeezed. It wasn’t an illusion that disappeared like smoke when I turned my head.

It was reality.

“What is it?” he repeated.

It was a voice tinged with slight irritation, just like before.