A few days earlier, in the Christina Town of Feropia, Manabu Satoshi had lived since he was four or five with his late grandmother, who had recently passed away.
On an early, chilling winter morning, Manabu was under his soft, thick woolen blanket, struggling to open his eyes despite the alarm ringing twice. The warmth of his bed enticed him to stay cocooned. With a soft groan, he stretched his legs and arms, thinking he'd take another five-minute nap, which lasted forty minutes. He wasn't late, but he was quite work-shy. Even if he managed to get up earlier, he was as slow as a sloth on a branch. After his so-called five-minute nap, he tried to get out of his bed-fence. Manabu was his teachers' favorite, excelling in math calculations, sports, detentions, and, most importantly, teasing everyone, even his teacher's pet rabbit. He sat on the bed lazily and, still half-asleep, forced himself to stand. He noticed the date on the calendar; it was November 27, 1899, meaning only a few days remained before the winter holiday. He stretched again and looked at the watch. It was already 8:00. He wasn't late; he still had one hour.Manabu always tried not to rely on alarm clocks, believing they were unhealthy and that, scientifically, it was better to wake up naturally. But this logic didn't save him from detentions. He was punished for being late almost every day. He grabbed his numerical, water-resistant wristwatch from the cupboard beside his bed, which had a designed glass pot of flowers on top of it. He headed to the bathroom and switched on the light. Turning on the tap, the cold water bit at his skin, making him shiver slightly. He reached for his toothbrush and squeezed toothpaste onto the bristles. "Six years ago, winters weren't this harsh, but now? The cold is unbearable. It seeps into your bones. Water has become my beloved enemy."An icy splash on his face jolted him awake. As he brushed his teeth, his thoughts wandered. When he finished, he spat, rinsed, and headed to the door to fetch the newspaper, but there was none. "What the… Where's the newspaper?" He was annoyed with the delivery guy, who often forgot to deliver the paper. "The delivery guy didn't show up today either?" With a sigh of irritation, Manabu went back inside, as it was too cold outside. "Faacckk~ It's so cold!"Rinsing his face one last time, he splashed tap water on his face; the frigid water invigorated him, turning his face red from the cold. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked to the guest room, where, under the couch, he kept a weighing scale. He pulled it out and stood on it. Manabu was particular about his diet, meticulously checking his weight every week. The scale stopped at 66.5 kg—one kilogram overweight.Manabu was 17 and would likely turn 18 by the end of the next month. Today, he skipped breakfast, having wasted too much time getting out of bed and ironing clothes. He sacrificed his meal to stay on schedule. As he prepared to leave, his gaze fell on a framed photo of himself and his grandmother on the hall cupboard. He was probably seven when the picture was taken; she was healthy then, but her heart condition worsened over time. He picked up the photo, wiping dust off with his sleeve. Her kind eyes looked back at him—a bittersweet reminder of her absence. She had passed away seven months ago due to heart disease, and though time had moved forward, the void lingered. Manabu loved his grandmother the most. With no parents, she had been his world. He held the picture to his chest for a moment, then left.It was 9:01 AM, and the first period was at 9:30, so he rushed. Talking to himself was a habit, something he found oddly comforting. Sometimes, he laughed at his own jokes, imagining a second person in the conversation. Manabu wasn't lonely—he had friends—but he was peculiar. He had been talking to himself since childhood.On his way to school, he thought of calling Taiju Hiroshi, his best friend since childhood. Pulling out his phone, he tried calling Taiju, but it went to voicemail. "His phone's switched off?" He tried again but got no response, so he dialed Mai's number, wondering if they were together. At that moment, Mai and Taiju were on the school rooftop, furiously working on a laptop, deep in the throes of hacking. When Mai saw the incoming call, she turned to Taiju. "Manabu's calling. Pick it up," she said. Taiju grabbed the phone and spoke, still focused on Mai's work. "Sup, buddy? We're at school. Where are you?""I'm on my way," Manabu replied, asking, "What are you guys doing? Your phone was off."Taiju looked up with a disappointed expression and recapped the event. "Yesterday, Mai broke my phone. She was playing games, but someone called at the wrong moment, and she threw my damn phone at the wall. By the way, we just managed to hack the scammers' computer. Mai did it for me."Manabu's voice perked up. "What? Cool. How'd she even do that? She's a freaking genius. Her big sister is a programmer, right?" (Mai had learned coding from her elder sister, becoming obsessed and fluent in programming over the years.) But before Taiju could reply, Mai screamed at the laptop in frustration. "No! Damn it! Shit, shit, fuck, fuck! Why!? No!? You asshole! You motherfucker!"Taiju tried to calm her, but Mai slammed her hand on his laptop and lifted it with no good intentions. Taiju screamed, grabbing his laptop to save his 1220 Das (Feropian currency) machine. "Why do you have to break everything?! Just calm down! What the hell just happened?!" he yelled at her. She was about to destroy a thousand-Das machine. Mai ignored him and lay on the rooftop floor, crying dramatically as if she had faced the greatest defeat of her life. Five days of effort wasted. She had been trying to hack a scammer's computer to expose their live location, reconnecting her device with them while pretending to be someone else. But just when she was a hair's breadth from exposing them, the scammer cracked her hack and escaped, making the hot-tempered Mai go wild. Those who had witnessed her furious side knew she couldn't be stopped without mango juice.Manabu, listening to their chaos, chuckled. "Alright, alright, forget about it. The scammer was probably troubled too. Not a big deal, calm down."Taiju asked how long it would take Manabu to reach school. Manabu was almost there—two to three minutes away. Taiju then asked Manabu to grab something to eat and turned to Mai. "Want something too?"Mai sighed and said nothing."So, that's a mango juice," Manabu muttered and hung up as he resumed walking. A little further down the road, he spotted Sayuri Mion walking ahead and called out to her. She turned, frowning, but ignoring her confusion, Manabu grabbed her hand and walked with her. While walking, he explained everything that happened today. "For the past four or five days, a scammer has been trying to access Mai's device. At first, Mai couldn't figure it out, but she caught on and scammed them back. The problem is, the scammer probably wiped everything on their end before she could trace them."During their small talk, Sayuri looked down, her face warming as she realized Manabu hadn't let go of her hand, even as they walked through crowded streets among other students. People were noticing, making her blush more. Tugging her hand back, she said, "I can walk just fine, and people are staring." Manabu blinked twice in confusion, glancing at their hands before releasing her with an apologetic laugh. It's alright, Manabu.She wouldn't have minded holding hands, but too many people were watching, and it was embarrassing for her; she is naturally pretty shy.They reached the school and went to their respective classes. Manabu and Sayuri shared the same classroom, but Taiju and Mai were in different sections. Their school, DSHC (Detens Scholar High School and College), was the most renowned institution in Feropia. Established in 1798 in Christina Town, it gained an immense reputation within ten years and now held the 2nd rank in the country.At DSHC, students were called Scholars not just by name but by their qualities, values, and morals, shaping them into accomplished individuals. This is Manabu's first year in the college. Their class commenced with the first period—Physics. The teacher, Mr. Futaba, entered the room. As head of the physics department, he was friendly and somewhat childish for his age. He was not only their main class teacher but also Naomi's father.Naomi, who was like a sister to Sayuri, had been her closest friend since childhood and was also Manabu's close friend.The bond between Sayuri and Naomi was inseparable, and they always stuck together, even as they grew older. Similarly, the brotherhood between Taiju and Manabu was well-known on campus, since they somehow proved science correct as they seemed like two actual descendants of monkeys.Once school was over, Manabu and Taiju took off on Taiju's bike, zipping through the streets, enjoying the fleeting freedom of youth. Intentionally overspeeding and breaking traffic rules, they embraced the thrill of recklessness. Taiju came from privilege—his father, a highly successful businessman, was among Feropia's wealthiest elites, owning twelve high-rise apartment buildings, each 20 to 40 floors tall. A self-made billionaire, his father had assigned an entire apartment to Taiju, entrusting him with its management—collecting rent and overseeing maintenance—to teach him independence and responsibility. In the evening, the gang—Manabu, Taiju, Sayuri, Mai, and Naomi—gathered at Taiju's apartment. Their study sessions mixed focused reading with endless chatter, blending discipline and camaraderie. Despite their varied personalities, they were united by a shared, uncompromising sense of justice.Manabu had an obsessive interest in criminal studies, religiously tracking news reports, crime records, and psychological profiles of criminals. This fascination materialized into a meticulously maintained notebook, a personal archive. His understanding went beyond surface-level curiosity, excelling in biology and mathematics.A shameful secret lay hidden in Manabu's home washroom, concealed behind a cleverly crafted fake ceiling board, undetectable to the naked eye. Within this compartment rested his prized possession: the notebook. Manabu alone knew of its existence, not out of selfishness but because he feared ridicule, dismissing it as an odd or juvenile obsession.The notebook, titled The Night and the Blood, was inspired by one of Manabu's favorite novels—a thriller steeped in supernatural tragedy. Manabu loved reading novels and had read countless stories that fascinated him. Within the notebook's pages, he recorded profiles of real criminals, detailing their crimes, mindsets, and stories. These weren't fictional characters but real individuals, many still under investigation.During study sessions, the group often discussed criminology, law enforcement, novels, movies, or TV shows, sharing insights and engaging in spirited debates. These gatherings were more than academic discussions.Manabu's obsession with justice was rooted in his bond with his grandmother, his guiding light. Her words of wisdom echoed in his mind. A paragon of kindness, she always saw the good in people. She was everything Manabu aspired to be, yet he believed he could never achieve it. He often thought poorly of himself, feeling he could never make her proud. He even claimed that he could never feel proud of himself either since his grandmother "decided to die" out of his sight.His grandmother had been his role model until her last breath. Even as she lay dying, her thoughts were filled with compassion. But Manabu could never forget the regret that consumed him the night she passed. They had argued. His grandmother had given a man a large sum of money with no guarantee of repayment. Manabu called her a fool for being so blindly kind and went out to Taiju's place.
Instead of staying, he spent the evening riding Taiju's bike around town, trying to cool his frustration. When Taiju heard about the argument, he insisted on taking Manabu home.But by the time they returned, it was too late. They found her lying on her bed, completely still. At first, they thought she was asleep. It wasn't until dinner, when they tried to wake her, that they realized the truth. Panic set in as they called an ambulance and rushed to the hospital, but the doctor's words shattered Manabu's world forever:
"She had passed away hours ago."
Her heart had enlarged beyond its normal size due to her heart disease, and she died.
"If only I had stayed with you…" Manabu muttered, staring at her empty room—like his hollow heart. That regret only grew. He always blamed himself for almost everything that went wrong, believing it was always his fault.
Since that day, he changed. He became kind and helpful, unwilling to risk losing someone he loved. He didn't want to lose someone precious to him again.After his grandmother's death, something stirred inside him. He dedicated himself to her ideals, not because he was told to, but by his own will.At night, he had a bad dream 'once again'. He would wake screaming, haunted by nightmares that refused to fade.Since childhood, strange nightmares had plagued him, feeling more like memories than dreams. He had once visited a doctor with his grandmother, undergone mental evaluations, and been prescribed medication.
But for the past few weeks, Manabu hadn't taken his medicine regularly, and the nightmares crept in during the dead of night, pulling him into the shadows of his mind. Memories blurred with dreams, a torment that refused to leave.Many years ago, when he was a little child, a family incident from June 21 replayed in his head like a cursed film. He would cry in his sleep, whispering strange things, calling for his mother. He could see only two figures: a child who looked just like him, with white hair and bright skin, and a woman with white hair and purplish eyes. Both were crying, holding each other close. The mother's tears crawled from her cheeks to her jaw, dropping onto the child's hand, burning Manabu in the same spot like a drop of lava.Then suddenly—she disappeared. Wolves were chasing her. He chased her too but failed to find his mother, and then, when he woke up, her memories would vanish.He couldn't remember her face anymore, but her warmth always consoled him. That night, he had lost something precious. But what?— he tried to remember but it felt like that part of the memory never existed, or his brain was simply trying to forget. A complex-emotion.The weight of that night pressed on his soul like an invisible chain of regrets. When he woke, he had only teary eyes, confusion, and an empty heart. Manabu often took sleeping pills, which is why he couldn't wake up on time and was punished as usual—cleaning the hall, watering trees, collecting playground garbage, or attending detention classes.
Within a few days, their college closed for winter vacation, granting Manabu several weeks to sleep in peaceful solitude. Days passed like a cold breeze running through tree leaves and thin branches.
At around 11 AM, Manabu was still asleep, clutching his pillow tightly beneath his favorite red-blanket like a caterpillar. The newspaper boy rang the bell, jolting him awake.
"Newspaper!" Trudging out of bed, he hurried to retrieve the paper from the delivery boy at the doorstep. He fumbled with the lock and peered outside. The boy was still there. Manabu grabbed the paper and asked about the previous day's newspaper, but the delivery boy said he had delivered every paper on time and to the correct address. He also knew Manabu well as a troublemaker, which was why he always delivered his newspaper first in the whole apartment.
Strange! Manabu thought. Perhaps the neighbor's naughty kids had taken it. He apologized and let the boy go, heading straight back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He set the coffee maker to brew while brushing. He lit another stove, set a couple of eggs to half-boil, and rushed to the bathroom again to rinse his mouth. He had a simple breakfast today—bread and eggs.
He washed his face and cleaned his red eyes, which had turned red due to a mild allergy, though it wasn't serious. Then he made his way to the dining room and poured coffee into his cup with half a teaspoon of sugar. As he ate, he unfolded the newspaper and flipped through its pages. The first few pages held nothing interesting—just the usual chitchat and sports-related news. In The Global News Section, recent reports covered ongoing conflicts in Lafiaza and protests of Ivanns. Another article detailed Castela's final payment under a Peace Treaty of 1870. According to the report, "Castela made its final reparations payment of approximately 10 billion Das to war-torn nations, including Feropia, Uras, Lafiaza, and allied countries, on December 11, 1899." This payment, mandated by the Treaty of 1870, aimed to address damages from past War of empires but had worsen poverty in Castela. Manabu didn't like Castela personally for its aggressive and dictatorial nature. On the third page, a headline caught his eye: [Another Murder by Mr. Santa Claus]. Curious, he read on, pointing at each word with his finger. He read the article's opening lines:
"Merry Christmas" "Mr. Santa?" "Three murders?"
The page detailed a gruesome event from that midnight, sometime between 1 and 2 AM. Three criminals, identified as locals, had been brutally murdered in the neighboring district of Doshiqi. Manabu's curiosity deepened, and the news quite matched his taste; he poured another cup of coffee while reading, then learned, "All three victims were criminals." Finishing the article while stuffing bread into his mouth, a thought sparked in his mind. He shoved his plate aside and rushed back to the bathroom. From a hidden compartment in the ceiling, he retrieved a secret notebook and began flipping through its pages. Manabu had made the space in the ceiling when he was a child, and his grandmother didn't bother at all. Now he used that space to hide some important things and past savings from his salary.
He looked at the criminals' faces and exclaimed, "Gotcha!"
Among the names listed in his file, one stood out: Hatu Nauchi. Arrested in 1895 for a drug export case, Hatu had been released the same year due to insufficient evidence, though a re-arrest warrant was issued in 1897.
He was also suspected of fraud, money-laundering, and probably even dirtier things. Hatu had begun his criminal career at the age of 21, descending into substance abuse, trafficking, and far darker deeds. His most heinous crimes involved rape—drugging his victims, overdosing them, and killing them in agonizing deaths."Fucking bastard," Manabu muttered, his disgust palpable, his face twisted. "Well deserved! Monsters like him should die this way."
He continued reading the details (which weren't sufficient) before pulling out his phone to search online for more information about the case. In the Santa murders of the previous night, Hatu hadn't been alone. His two younger accomplices, aged 19 and 20, had also been killed, though their names didn't appear. Returning to the dining table, he grabbed a pair of scissors and carefully cut out the newspaper pages detailing the Christmas murders.
He taped them into his notebook, scrawling at the top: "Mr. Santa Claus—Christmas Killer." With that, he closed the notebook and returned it to its hiding place but wondered once whether he should keep this notebook he had made five years ago out of childish thrill, but then thought this childishness was the only way to remind him of those alive moments he could not live again. He kept the notebook.
That afternoon, at Taiju's apartment, Manabu lounged in Taiju's room, sprawled upside down on the bed, legs dangling over the edge. His head hung off the side, the world appearing inverted through his bleary eyes. His body ached, and his mind felt heavy with boredom. Taiju had stepped out to buy snacks, leaving Manabu alone in the quiet room in the thousand-door apartment. Mion, Naomi, and Mai were occupied elsewhere: Mion and Naomi were shopping with their dad (Futaba) for Christmas and New Year celebrations, while Mai was treating herself to a haircut at a beauty salon with other girlfriends. So there was no one to talk to, and Taiju was absolutely worse at conversation. He made everything sound like a debate since he was a law student. Manabu sighed again and swung his legs upwards, kicking in the air.
Just then, the door handle clicked, and Taiju entered with a bag of snacks in hand. Without a word, he tossed a packet of chips at Manabu's upside-down face. Too lethargic to react, Manabu didn't even bother catching it, and it patted his face."Feeling bored?" Taiju asked, plopping onto his study chair. Manabu didn't respond. He sat up slowly, his face a mask of indifference. He sighed again—a bad sign. Taiju kept staring at him quietly, opening the chip packet and cracking open a can of soda, munching loudly on each chip. Manabu stared back with an annoyed look on his face, as if Taiju was challenging him to a staring contest.
For once, Manabu thought, what weird people I hang around with: one is red-haired and hot-tempered, one is smart but shy, one is slightly stupid but kind, and then this Nigga, so-called best friend with an extremely healthy physique. Manabu couldn't bear it any more, and he asked, "Why the fuck are you staring at me like that? You wanna fight?"
Taiju replied while maintaining eye contact, "Why did you call me that? I'm white." Manabu hiccupped twice. Taiju had a natural gift for understanding people quickly in a short period of time. He was like a psychic. But Manabu immediately changed the direction of the conversation, flailed his arms dramatically, and flopped back onto the bed again. The boredom was eating him, and the chewing sound felt as though Taiju wasn't chewing chips but his sanity. Well, Taiju won the contest and decided to lighten the mood. "Did you catch today's news? There's a serial killer in Doshiqi. Goes by 'Mr. Santa.' I hope you've heard about him."Manabu's eyes flickered with interest. He sat up. "Yup, I've heard about him." Taiju took a sip of his soda and leaned forward, pulling out a coin from his jeans pocket to scratch the gift coupon on the back of the chip packet while he continued the chat. "This guy's no joke. He'd killed about twelve people in just over two weeks. And all of them were criminals!"
"Twelve?" Manabu's brows furrowed. He leaned closer to Taiju, trying to peek at the scratch prize, but it was just a cheap toy. Taiju sighed, slightly disappointed. He opened the drawer and grabbed a stack of newspapers from his desk. Flipping through them, he found the pages he wanted and threw them to Manabu. "Check these out—November 27th and December 5th news," and began opening another chip packet.Manabu hadn't seen these articles before. He glanced at the dates and realized those were the days he couldn't find his newspapers—either the delivery boy had skipped them intentionally, or someone had stolen them. He scanned the articles from start to finish and asked, "When did this Santa guy start appearing?"Taiju leaned back in the chair and replied while opening his third packet. "Early winter. Around November, when the first chills hit. In just two months, he'd taken down eight criminals. Not ordinary people, mind you—serious offenders. Fuck!" Taiju groaned suddenly; another toy from the scratch gifts.
Manabu sat up straighter, grabbing a packet for himself while talking. "So, Mr. Santa only targets criminals and bad people?"Taiju nodded. "Exactly. But whether he's a vigilante or just a psycho, I can't say. Do all bad people deserve to die? Well, not really, but in this case? Hell yes."
"If he only kills criminals, does that make him a hero?" Manabu mused.Taiju rubbed his chin and said it depended on individual perspective. "To me, he's justice. All his victims were vile. One of them—I can't recall his name—killed and violated women and children. Santa took him out. That guy deserved it, didn't he?"
Quite an ambitious killer, Manabu thought. "He kills in different ways, like the punishment fits the crime. There's a saying: 'What you do is what you get.' Maybe this Santa wants to bring peace to society. Or maybe he just enjoys the thrill. A hunter that hunts the hunter."Taiju began recounting Santa's victims from the start. "November 27th—remember? Mai and I were trying to hack that scammer. That night, two people were found dead: Karu Jouiki and Sora Jouiki, the Twin Assholes, I call them. Senior members of the Joo-hai gang, wanted for cyber fraud, blackmail, and gang murders. They hacked victims' private info, blackmailed them, and drove many to suicide. Their bodies were found in an apartment where they were hiding from rival gangs.
At first, the police thought it was a gang hit and closed the case in two months. Then there was another case of 'The Mother,' Ashara Shoko, a single mother. Her husband left her, claiming she was narcissistic. They divorced, but their kid stayed with her due to a court ruling.
A few months later, an arrest warrant was issued after her younger son called his father for help, saying, 'My brother died, and Mom left the house.' The father called the police immediately."According to the news: Shoko had been abusing her children since the divorce. Her elder son died because she slammed his head against a wall, killing him instantly, while her younger son ended up hospitalized. Shoko fled, but the father pressed charges. She vanished in September and remained at large until November 30th, when her body was found in an apartment, with many suspects but no leads.Then Manabu noticed and asked about the murders on December 3rd and 5th, which he'd also missed.
Taiju took the newspaper to jog his memory, glanced at the pages once again, and said, "That's when things escalated. December 3rd to 5th was a mass murder—six people died in one district."According to the articles, back in February 1896, the police had issued arrest warrants for those six, including Roshi Oto, Matsunaga, and Ogato. They were monsters, having tortured and killed seven to eight people, including a seven-year-old girl they raped and murdered. They were also suspected to have been killed by Mr. Santa recently, since the gifts were the only evidence and lead to any possible outcomes. Taiju's fists clenched, his voice dripping with venom. "Bastard... That's the motherfucker I mentioned earlier. I saw the news back then and wished those fuckers dead. They deserved this." Taiju clearly justified and sided with Mr. Santa and his murders, but Manabu had a question. "How did the police connect these killings to Santa? These murders happened across the country in different districts. Guessing would be foolish."
Taiju's eyes lit up; he'd totally forgotten to mention the gifts. "The gifts! Santa leaves random signature gifts at every crime scene. For example, last night, they found a 'Merry Christmas' note, and at some scenes, a keyed Santa toy that plays Jingle Bells."The investigation team had revisited earlier cases and found similar gifts, previously overlooked but now a critical clue. Manabu was impressed by Taiju's knowledge. "I thought you weren't interested in this stuff.""Don't be silly! Everyone's curious about this kind of thing," Taiju replied, collecting the empty chip packets and shoving them into the dustbin.
"But," Manabu said, "What if we're Santa's next victims?" with a wide-eyed creepy grin.
"Bruhh, don't say creepy shit. He won't touch us—we're innocent."
Manabu laughed, "Just kidding. Anyway, how's your martial arts class?"
The question sparked something in Taiju. He bolted to his bedroom, rummaging through drawers. Moments later, he returned, proudly wearing a red belt, traditionally handmade, adorned with a dragon painted in gold and black. "My master gave me this," he boasted. "It's above a black belt. He said I'm the finest student he'd ever had and made it for me with his own hands." It was remarkable and quite an achievement. Manabu expressed his genuine humility toward Taiju, showing his appreciation. Taiju, however, returned to the topic. "Anyway, people support Santa because he only kills criminals. But he's still a fearsome guy; he appears and disappears like the actual Santa Claus in the middle of the night."Manabu nodded thoughtfully, piecing things together in his mind. Suddenly, Mai entered the room with a glad face, her short hair freshly styled. "What's going on?" she asked cheerfully. She spun once, expecting them to comment on her appearance, as she appreciated it herself. "How does my new haircut look, Taiju?"
Taiju turned his face immediately, blushing. Adjusting his glasses, he stammered, "It looks great." Manabu noticed the slight embarrassment he had been expecting, to take revenge after losing the longest eye contest challenge against the psychic-ass. His lips curved into a sly, mischievous smile, fully aware of the situation and the dynamics between these two oddballs.
He knew Taiju liked Mai, and what's more, he could tell Mai felt the same about Taiju. But the problem was, neither of them could muster the courage to confess. Watching them struggle was both amusing and frustrating. He stepped close to Taiju's ear and whispered mischievously, "You liked it, didn't you~?"
Taiju's face turned even redder, and his emotions grew unsteady. He pushed Manabu back with his right hand. Manabu laughed at both of them, clearly enjoying Taiju's discomfort, while Mai was just confused—as always. "What's going on?" she asked, her eyes shifting between the two boys. Nothing… It's just brotherhood.
Taiju, meanwhile, felt like he was melting inside. His mind raced as he stole glances at Mai once again. She looks pretty… Quite a wholesome sight. It was December 12th already, just a few days until Christmas, which they had promised to share together. They hoped the New Year would bring light into their lives. For all of them, the New Year symbolized more than just a fresh start—it was the threshold of their futures. The years had been chaotic, and the world was twisted and harsh, yet they still hoped for something brighter. Mion stood outside the mall on the footpath under the winter tears of snow, looking up at the cloudy sky.
"Beautiful," she said, her eyes reflecting quiet hope for tomorrow. Naomi, standing nearby, looked up as well and softly remarked, "It's snowing." The flakes drifted gently, painting the night in delicate white. The cold breeze carried a sense of serenity, making this winter the most beautiful one in recent years. Mion closed her eyes, pressing her hands together in a silent prayer.
"I hope… I hope we all stay happy together forever," she whispered, her breath forming a faint mist in the frigid air. Her words were a quiet plea, echoing the season's joy. All around, people smiled and shared in the warmth of the moment. As the snow fell, a gentle reminder lingered: True joy lies not in possessing what we desire, but in cherishing the moments we wish to relive once more.