It was a cold winter day, when snowflakes from the heavens were dyeing the dark brown fields pure white.

That day, while I was out hunting and roaming near the village on horseback, I aimed my bow at a deer, only to be left dazed by the discovery of something that didn't seem to belong to this world.

I first saw your small self, blowing warm breath into your palms which were swollen red from the cruel weather, and your delicate face that looked like a single, beautiful flower. Even in this freezing wind, you climbed the slippery snow-covered fields with your small feet to gather medicinal herbs; you looked so pitiful, like a small rabbit, that I couldn't take my eyes off you. In one hand you held a herb basket, and in the other, a worn-out hoe.

The day I first met you was poison to me. At first, I approached you spitefully and would often scold you, telling you to leave because it was a dangerous hunting ground, yet you didn't lose your nerve even before me, the King. I couldn't tell if you were incredibly brave or just plain stupid for simply going about your business.

After that day, your face haunted me every night, keeping me awake, and I began to meet you at the hunting grounds outside the palace. Anxiety and worry that your small body might be devoured by wild beasts came first, but I never showed it outwardly when I met her. Looking back now, perhaps a new sprout was already blooming in a corner of my heart.

Only after passing these four seasons with you did I bring you into the palace and whisper sweet love under the moonlight. But contrary to my expectations, you were looking far away, and at the end of your gaze stood someone other than me.

5 years later...

I thought it was just another quiet night. Outside, the screams of palace servants rang out, and she had vanished. When I opened my eyes, I was trapped in a palace engulfed in flames. The searing heat overwhelmed me, and with severe burns on my face and neck, I wandered through the burning palace, searching for her without even feeling the pain, but she was nowhere to be found. I eventually stumbled out of the palace in despair.

By the time the embers that spread through the palace began to settle, a sword was held to my throat. Holding the hilt of the sword with those same small hands that once held a worn-out hoe, she was smiling alongside the rebels. She stood there, arm-in-arm with a strange man. That seat was never mine to begin with. I had been deceived by a game played by someone who coveted my power and position.

Leaving behind wounds that could never be washed away, I was sent into exile to a small mountain village very far from the palace instead of having my head taken. It was her final, minimal mercy toward me. Thus, the black orchid froze white as it faced a new season.