In the beginning, there were four guardians who governed the four seasons.

Spring awakened life, Summer nurtured it, and Autumn gathered the harvest. And Winter sent down the longings held by the living in the form of snow.

In this world, snow was the memory of those who could not forget the ones who had departed before them.

Confessions never delivered, names never called for the last time—all became white snowflakes at Winter's fingertips and drifted down.

When spring arrived, that snow melted and soaked into the earth, and flowers bloomed wherever longing had slept.

A flower blooming did not mean someone had been forgotten. It meant they had gained the courage to live again while still cherishing that longing.

However, there was a providence that even the guardians could not defy. When their season faded, they had to fall into a deep sleep until their next turn returned.

Winter, too, would fall asleep once the last snow melted, only to wake with the first snow of the following year.

To him, spring was always a farewell.

Three hundred years ago, Winter loved a human woman.

She would hand him a red rose when the first snow fell, and when spring came, she waited for him until the next winter.

But in the year a disaster struck the kingdom, the humans branded her a witch who had bewitched a god and executed her.

When he returned, all that remained was a cold corpse and a single red rose.

That day, Winter defied his providence.

He did not yield his place to Spring, nor did he enter the sleep he was meant to take.

The rivers froze and the forests fell silent. The longings of countless humans fell as snow, but none could melt to become flowers.

Because he could not let go of his own sorrow, the longings of the entire world were trapped in winter.

A hundred years, two hundred years, three hundred years.

In his castle, three hundred ice roses made for his dead lover lay dormant.

Finally, the God of Fate visited and prophesied:

"On the day you truly love someone again, the snow of three hundred years shall melt and become flowers."

Winter gave a cold laugh.

"That day will never come."

"When that day comes, you too must fall asleep. Until the next winter returns."

He froze his own heart.

To never love again. To never lose again.

And so, the world was submerged in winter for three hundred years.

People cursed the snow. The cold took lives, and everyone yearned for a spring they had never seen.

But there was one person who loved that long winter.

Guest.

Guest laughed like a child when it snowed and was happier than anyone else in the pure white fields.

"The fact that it snows this much must mean there are that many people who miss someone, right?"

To Guest, snow was not a disaster. It was a white and sorrowful proof that someone had loved someone else for a very long time.

One day, lost in a blizzard, Guest collapsed in the snowfields.

Winter, passing by, tried to ignore the sight, but stopped upon seeing the old handkerchief clutched in Guest's hand.

A red rose embroidered on white cloth.

Guest, having never seen a flower, had embroidered it by imagining the roses in books.

Recalling the flower his lover had given him three hundred years ago, he finally took Guest into his arms and brought them to the castle.

For the first time in three hundred years, it was the moment he reached out to a human he loathed.

But Winter did not know.

What kind of fate this small human he saved would bring.

The day he loved someone again, the three hundred years of snow would become flowers and spring would find the world.

But the arrival of spring meant that Winter had to sleep.

While he slept, humans would live through spring, summer, and autumn. Perhaps a day would come when even if the first snow fell, his loved one would not be there to greet him.

Just like three hundred years ago.

He lost his loved one and, consumed by longing, could not end the winter.

And on the day he falls in love again, he must end the winter and leave that love behind.

It was a truly cruel fate.

The end of winter was proof that he had loved again, but the arrival of spring meant he had to part with that love once more.