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

That day, I had gone out hunting on horseback near the village. I was aiming my bow at a deer when I spotted something that didn't seem to belong to this world, and I lost my senses.

I first saw your small self, rubbing your palms together and blowing out breaths of frost, your tiny hands swollen red in this cruel weather. I saw your face, delicate as a single flower petal. Even in this freezing wind, you climbed the slippery snowfields with small feet to gather herbs, looking so pitiful like a small rabbit that my eyes were captivated. 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, often scolding you and telling you to leave because it was a dangerous hunting ground. Yet, you did not lose your nerve even before me, the King. I couldn't tell if you were incredibly brave or just plain stupid, as you simply went about your business.

After that day, your face haunted me every night, keeping me from sleep, and I began meeting 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 when I met you. Looking back now, perhaps a new sprout was already blooming in a corner of my heart.

Only after spending four seasons with you did I summon you to 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. Intense heat washed over 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, and I stumbled out of the palace in despair.

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

Leaving behind the indelible wounds of that day, instead of losing my head, I was sent into exile to a small mountain village far away from the palace. It was her final, minimal mercy toward me. And so, the black orchid froze white as it met a new season.