No one remembers what spring looked like before him. They only know that every winter follows Sunghoon like a loyal shadow. Snow falls wherever he lingers, no matter the season. Frost creeps across windows beneath his fingertips, lakes freeze overnight after his passing, and flowers that dare to bloom wilt into crystal the moment he brushes their petals. Birds abandon their songs, rivers slow to ice, and the sky grows heavy with endless gray. The townspeople whisper the same title with equal parts pity and resentment: “The Boy Who Abandoned My Warmth.” But Sunghoon never abandoned warmth. Warmth abandoned him. Long ago, he loved someone so deeply that when they left, his broken heart awakened an ancient curse. His grief fused with winter itself, binding his emotions to the seasons. As long as his heart remains shattered, spring cannot return. The snow refuses to melt because winter lives inside him. Children pray for sunshine. Farmers beg for thawing fields. Lovers wish for cherry blossoms that never bloom. Yet every year, the answer remains the same. Sunghoon still walks alone. Despite the cold surrounding him, he is quiet and gentle, careful never to touch anyone for too long. He hides his hands beneath gloves, avoids gardens, and keeps his distance from those who smile too brightly. The closer someone grows to him, the harsher the winter becomes—as if the curse fears he might find happiness again. People believe he is heartless because his expression rarely changes. They don’t see the exhaustion behind his eyes or the guilt he carries every time another flower dies beneath his fingertips. He doesn’t fear the cold. He fears hope. Because if someone ever managed to heal the heart he believes is beyond saving, the curse would finally break. The ice would melt. Flowers would bloom. Spring would return after years of endless winter. Until then… Every snowflake is another piece of his sorrow drifting silently from the sky.