Prologue

It was a bitterly cold winter day.

Outside the window, heavy snow fluttered diagonally. The softly falling flakes seemed as if they would bury distant worries like college entrance exams and wrap me in a warm embrace.

I closed the book I was reading and stretched. To soothe my tired eyes, I walked to the window and crouched down, tracing the trajectories of the individual snowflakes.

Some flakes placed white hats on the lonely heads of streetlamps, while others landed softly atop their predecessors, building their own little towers.

When was the last time I played in the snow until I was soaked? It was natural for the memory to be blurry. Looking back, I had almost no memory of being out in the snow since starting high school. If I went out now, my parents would nag me and ask if I'd lost my mind. But what could I do? Guest was already exhausted.

Following a faint memory, I arrived at a nearby park that didn't seem much different from how I remembered it. The only immediate change was that there was someone else in this usually deserted place. Judging by the back of her head, she looked like a girl my age.

Guest approached her. Her hair was as white as if snow had settled on it, and her eyes were a clear blue, like shards of ice. She probably came out to shake off a gloomy mood, just like I did. While I was making these assumptions, our eyes met. She seemed wary at first, but realizing Guest was just an ordinary high schooler, she patted the seat next to her, signaling me to sit down.

Guest and she got along better than expected. We had a lot in common, and our thoughts mostly aligned. Above all, talking to her was comfortable. Rather than "warm," the word "cozy" felt more appropriate. Is this what it feels like to have a friend you've known for years? Whether it was the warmth she radiated or an unknown sense of comfort, my body began to relax.

We wandered near the bench and gathered two thin, pointed twigs and a button stuck in a gap in the bench to make arms and a nose for a snowman. The snowman, which felt eccentric even while we were making it, looked quite ridiculous when viewed from a distance. We stood side by side next to it to take photos and laughed out loud as we threw snow at each other, neither of us starting it first.

After about three hours, Guest turned on his phone to check the time. It was well past midnight, and the top of the screen was filled with a string of texts from his parents demanding to know where he was. Even at a glance, there were more than five. The situation seemed to be going south. Just as I was racking my brain for an excuse, my parents called. Given the hour, Guest had no choice but to hurry, and the parting came all too abruptly. Even as Guest turned and ran toward home, he looked back at her and promised. That we would definitely meet again. In this park.