“How utterly clumsy, there’s no other way to put it. No matter how sincere you are, talking like that, how could anyone stay with you? If it were me, I would’ve broken up with you right away. Tsk, tsk, tsk……”

Johan pursed his lips, clicking his tongue as he descended the stairs. While behind him, Isaac trudged along, shoulders slumped, his heavy steps echoing his dejection.

The moment they entered the lobby, Isaac grabbed a bottle of liquor from the minibar, took a long swig, and muttered: “No, we haven’t broken up yet.” But Johan simply smirked.

“Yeah, ‘not yet’. But when was the last time you checked?”

“About a week ago……”

“And in that whole week, you haven’t gotten a single text? You didn’t message either?”

“Well…… I mean……”

“Someone who talks like they’re embroidering flowers and then goes silent for a week, dumped ages ago, you just don’t know it yet.”

“It’s over, it’s done.” – Johan waved his hand dismissively, cradling a stack of mechanical puzzles as he leisurely made his way toward the sofa. But at that exact moment, he suddenly froze.

Sitting on the oversized armchair was a ferocious beast exuding an oppressive aura that sent chills down one’s spine…… but upon closer inspection, it was Christoph. He sat cross-legged, his face clouded with irritation, exuding an icy demeanor. Despite the snowstorm raging outside, the room was warm thanks to the heating system, yet somehow the air around Christoph felt frozen.

“……Why does he look like that?”

Normally thick-skinned and composed in any situation, Johan couldn’t shake the feeling that even a simple greeting might result in Christoph lunging at his throat. So, he lowered his voice and asked Halt, who was sitting as far away as possible on the opposite side, nose buried in a book. Christoph had undoubtedly heard the question, but he remained still, like a statue perched in the armchair.

“How should I know…… He’s been like that since early morning, and hasn’t changed all day.” 

Halt whispered back. Johan’s voice rose slightly.

“Early morning? You mean he’s been here since then?”

“No, I got up a bit earlier than usual this morning. Just as I stepped out of my room, Christoph walked out from the room next door. Just seeing him…… scared the life out of me.”

Halt muttered, recounting how the sight of Christoph in the dimly lit hallway had unnerved him. Johan tilted his head, and puzzled: “Huh?”

“The room next door? That’s the guest room, only meant for outside visitors to stay in. Why would Christoph be coming out of there? Isn’t he supposed to be in Richard’s room?”

When Johan glanced back at Christoph, it seemed his words had reached him. Christoph slowly raised his head to look at Johan. He didn’t move a muscle, but his sharp, dagger-like gaze sliced through the air, cold and piercing as if it could cut right through him. Even Johan, usually unshakable in any situation, found himself unnerved and quickly fell silent.

“Well, it’s not that unusual…… Sleep wherever, right? As long as it’s comfortable, what’s the big deal……”

Johan muttered to himself as he slumped onto the sofa, fiddling absentmindedly with the mechanical puzzles in his hands. A thought crossed his mind: ‘He already didn’t seem happy this morning in the dining hall.’

Now, it appeared that it wasn’t just the dining hall, Christoph had been in this mood since early morning and hadn’t shaken it off all day. Now, with evening fading into night, it meant Christoph had spent the entire day like this.

Johan glanced over at Christoph. He sat there, chin resting lightly on his hand, legs crossed, his eyes fixed blankly on the empty space in front of him. His mood didn’t seem any better than in the morning. No, if anything, it seemed worse.

Earlier that morning, when Johan had gone down to the dining hall for breakfast, the first thing he noticed was Richard sitting at the far corner of the table.

Next to Richard was Hans, and the seat beside Hans was still empty. As Johan approached, he looked at Richard and thought: ‘Why does he look so strange? It’s so early in the morning, and he’s already like this?’

Richard was calmly eating breakfast, chatting with the others as usual. He even smiled faintly, giving off an air of friendliness, but his eyes were ice-cold and profoundly dark. With his near-supernatural ability to read others’ emotions, Johan immediately realized: ‘This guy is seriously pissed.’ He pulled out the chair and sat down next to Hans.

“What’s up with him?”

Johan jerked his chin in Richard’s direction while quietly asking Hans. Hans, who had spent years enduring Richard’s moods and had become hypersensitive to even the smallest shifts in his demeanor, simply shrugged and shook his head.

“I have no idea. I went to his room this morning and found him sitting at his desk, completely awake, like he hadn’t slept all night. He already looked like this then.”

“Did he really not sleep?”

Though Richard’s clothes were neat and perfectly put together as usual, there was a distinct trace of fatigue on his face. Word had it that he’d been so busy lately he barely had time to rest, so if he had pulled another all-nighter, it wasn’t surprising he looked so drained.

“Yeah…… He just sat there, like a dad waiting at home for his kid to come back after staying out too late.” 

Johan murmured thoughtfully. Hans muttered under his breath: “Except this dad looks like he’s got a bundle of rattan switches ready in his hand.”

Just as Johan was about to ask: ‘What’s with this sudden mood?’, he noticed Richard’s expression, sitting across from him, freezing abruptly. Richard had been chatting with someone, his face still adorned with a serene smile, but then he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes fixating intently on something. This instinctively made Johan turn to follow Richard’s gaze.

Christoph had entered the dining hall.

It was unclear how long he had been standing out in the snow, but his hair and shoulders were dusted with a thick layer of white. It seemed he had been outside in the freezing cold for quite a while, his lips were a pale bluish hue, while the tips of his ears, his cheeks, and the bridge of his nose were flushed red from the chill.

Johan noticed Christoph brushing the snow off his coat and then realized he was wearing riding gear. Christoph had clearly been out riding since early morning.

Even though it wasn’t unusual for Christoph to enjoy horseback riding, going out at the crack of dawn, and in heavy snowfall no less, just how long had he been riding? While Johan mulled over this, his thoughts were interrupted when Christoph, after dusting off the snow, lifted his head. Their eyes briefly met, and Johan muttered under his breath: “This guy’s in a foul mood.”

With a cold and defiant expression, Christoph swept his gaze around the dining hall. When his eyes landed on Richard, his steps came to an abrupt halt. His icy, piercing stare lingered on Richard for a moment before he frowned slightly, turned away, and made his way toward an empty seat nearby. However——.

“Christoph, come here.”

Just as Christoph was about to pull out a chair, Richard called out to him. Christoph frowned at Richard, clearly hesitant. He stood still for a moment but then reluctantly pushed the chair back in and walked over to sit in the empty seat beside Richard.

“Where did you sleep?”

Richard asked softly, his eyes fixed on his meal, not sparing Christoph a glance. His tone was firm and cold. Christoph, equally indifferent, didn’t bother to look at Richard as he replied:

“In the guest room of the West Wing.”

“……Not going back to Berlin?”

“I was planning to, but the snow was too heavy. It was too early, and the roads hadn’t been cleared yet.”

The conversation ended abruptly after Christoph’s curt reply.

No one said another word. The two men simply ate their breakfast in silence, as if nothing had happened. Though Richard occasionally responded to small talk from others, the icy, suffocating aura around him was palpable to everyone. Even Hans, seated next to Richard, looked tense and miserable, forcing down each bite as if the food were stuck in his throat.

It was clear that there had been some kind of conflict between the two. Johan cast a quick glance at Christoph and Richard, then shrugged it off and calmly continued eating his breakfast.

After breakfast, Richard and Hans returned to the office, while Christoph went outside. Johan assumed Christoph was either going horseback riding again or heading back to Berlin. He didn’t think much of it at the time, but now that he reflected on it, Christoph had carried that same dark, oppressive mood with him all day long.

“Grown adults, and they’re still fighting? They were getting along so well just a while ago,” 

Johan muttered, idly fiddling with the mechanical puzzle in his hands. At that moment, Christoph, who had been sitting still on the sofa like a statue, suddenly shot him a sharp, ferocious glare. Halt, seated nearby, merely glanced at the scene in silence, while Isaac continued sipping lazily from the bottle of liquor in his hand.

“It’s not a fight. He’s just angry with me.” 

Christoph replied coldly. Johan didn’t dare look up, simply nodding absentmindedly as if the matter wasn’t worth worrying about, and mumbled vaguely:

“I get it, I get it. Sometimes people get upset over nothing. Richard’s probably just stressed with everything he’s dealing with—lots on his plate, you know.”

“Richard isn’t the type to take his anger out on others……” 

Halt muttered nearby, though his voice faltered as if he didn’t want to say outright: ‘It’s probably Christoph’s fault.’ Christoph turned sharply to glare at Halt, his eyes cold and piercing. Feeling the weight of that glare, Halt immediately buried his face in his book, pretending to be absorbed.

Johan, still fiddling with his puzzle, continued speaking nonchalantly:

 “No, no, Hans said Richard started acting off after a phone call.”

“A phone call? What phone call?” – Christoph asked, his tone growing sharper.

“Who knows? Last night, after Hans finished his work and left the office, Richard got a direct call. Hans asked what it was about, but Richard just said it was a personal matter. Apparently, his mood took a nosedive after the call ended.”

Halt tilted his head, thinking to himself: ‘Oh, so it really isn’t Christoph’s fault?’ However, no one noticed that Christoph suddenly turned away, falling into silence without saying another word.

“How strange. If Richard didn’t tell Hans, then it’s probably not work-related. But what kind of personal matter could upset him so much……”

Unable to ignore a certain possibility, Halt cast a suspicious glance at Christoph. However, Christoph only stared into space, his face icy cold, showing no intention of speaking.

At that moment, Johan, having just solved the first mechanical puzzle, reached for the next one and casually remarked,

“It’s just women trouble.”

“……”

“……”

Johan was the only one oblivious to the fact that his definitive statement had plunged the entire room into an abrupt silence. Christoph, who had already been silent, remained so, but even Halt and Isaac instinctively darted quick glances at Christoph at the speed of light, only to immediately avert their gazes elsewhere. (At the same time, only Halt and Isaac exchanged a fleeting look, as if to say: ‘Does this guy know too……?’ before both quickly avoided each other’s eyes.)

“……Why does this suddenly involve women?”

Halt hesitantly broke the silence. Johan, still focused on the mechanical puzzle in his hands, appeared deep in thought before finally answering:

“Uncle Three said it seems like Richard is involved with some girl.”

And once again, silence fell over the room. This time, even Christoph turned to look at Johan with a peculiar expression.

“Uncle said that aside from work, Richard has seemed unusually busy lately, like he’s got something going on. On top of that, managers from several brand stores have occasionally been delivering gift boxes. It looks like Richard has been giving gifts to someone. Uncle said that if that’s the case, it must be to win over some girl. He even mentioned that it sounded intriguing and wanted to investigate who she is.”

“……Uncle Three again? That old man who can’t mind his own business? What’s the point of investigating something like that?”

Halt grumbled. Johan shrugged and replied:

“Probably because it’s about Richard, so Uncle’s curious to know who the person is.”

“Richard knows how to choose the right people to meet. Don’t let Uncle meddle in this.” 

“Yeah, and what if it ends up causing more trouble?” – Halt muttered, adding his piece. Isaac, sipping his drink nearby, gave a slight nod, as if in agreement.

Meanwhile, Johan had finished solving the second mechanical puzzle and picked up the third. He glanced around at everyone in the room.

“Aren’t any of you curious? Hearing Uncle Three say that made me curious. If Richard really is dating someone, I’d love to know what kind of girl she is.”

“……Why are you curious?” 

“Tsk, tsk, think about it for a second. It’s Richard we’re talking about. He doesn’t say much, but who knows better than me how much he cares about appearances? His taste is nothing to scoff at. If he’s actually making such an effort to win over a girl, then she’s got to be an absolute stunner.”

Johan spoke while glancing around, as if to ask: ‘How are you not curious about this?’ Completely oblivious to the awkward tension hanging in the air, he missed the brief glances Halt and Isaac exchanged toward Christoph’s furrowed brows before quickly looking away, as if they’d silently reached some unspoken understanding.

“Richard’s type has always been very consistent. I’d bet the girl he’s dating this time is another dazzling beauty, elegant, exceptionally intelligent, and from a prestigious family. And if she’s got platinum blonde hair and blue eyes, that’d be perfect.”

“Richard has only ever dated women like that. It’s almost as if he’s following some fixed ideal type.” – Johan mused, as if declaring an undeniable truth. But when he noticed the sudden, unusual silence in the room, he looked up, confused, and asked:

“Huh? What’s with everyone?”

“It’s nothing…… just that, hearing you talk, it really does sound too perfect.” 

Halt muttered, trying to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze and instead staring intently at the chandelier on the ceiling. Isaac, meanwhile, had his head down, his eyes glued to the bottle in his hand.

“Perfect?” 

“No…… I just think you should set up a fortune-telling booth on the sidewalk instead. Anything else to add to your prediction?”

“Anything else? Hmm…… Oh, right, there’s something that absolutely can’t be missing from Richard’s type. That girl, she’s definitely…… passionate.”

“PFFT!” – Isaac choked on his drink, spraying some out. Thankfully, it didn’t go everywhere, only spilling a bit on his knee. Halt, sitting next to him, nearly choked as well, even though he wasn’t drinking anything. Christoph, who had been looking off to the side, silently clenched his jaw so tightly that a vein visibly bulged on his forehead.

“No matter how innocent or angelic she may seem on the surface, I bet at night she transforms into a seductive enchantress. And if not, then she’s undoubtedly a natural-born virtuoso in the art of love. Otherwise, how could she possibly keep up with Richard?”

While Johan continued his rambling, Halt and Isaac desperately tried to ignore him. Halt kept staring fixedly at the chandelier, as if chanting to himself: “Don’t look, don’t look.” Isaac, on the other hand, focused all his attention on the bottle in his hands as though it held the answers to life’s mysteries.

The increasingly tense atmosphere shattered when Christoph, with the vein on his forehead pulsing ominously, finally snapped:

“Shut up, Johan.”

Christoph’s cold and cutting tone made the entire room freeze.

“Do you think that kind of talk is clever or funny? Stop spouting such filthy nonsense.”

“Filthy? No matter how obsessively clean you are, you shouldn’t call something as beautiful and noble as that ‘filthy.’ Can’t you see? Sexuality and related matters have had a profound and essential impact on human history for the past 200,000 years.”

Johan frowned slightly as he launched into a long-winded lecture, completely oblivious to the fact that Christoph’s face was now contorted with rage, his anger clearly boiling over. Christoph looked ready to leap out of his seat, and just as he began to rise, Johan suddenly seemed to recall something and exclaimed: “Ah, that’s right.”

“Oh, by the way, Christoph, I heard you have a lover? Is that true?”

“――Who said that?”

“Richard.”

“……”

Christoph, who had just angrily sprung to his feet, froze mid-motion at Johan’s reply. He stood there like a statue, completely still. In the corner of the room, Halt and Isaac also sat frozen in place. Only Johan, still focused on his mechanical puzzle, remained completely nonchalant, continuing to ramble on as if nothing had happened.

“Earlier, when Uncle Three visited Tarthen and saw you dropping by every weekend, even getting along quite well with some of the family members, he mentioned over tea with the elders that you seemed to be changing in a positive way. While chatting, he even said: ‘Could it be that this kid has a lover? Some wild horses settle down once they meet the right person.’ And right then, Richard said: ‘Christoph has a lover.’”

“……”

“Then Uncle Three started pressing: ‘Who is yhet person?’ But just at that moment, something urgent came up, and Richard and Hans had to leave.”

Johan muttered: “I don’t know why it’s only Uncle Three and I who seem curious about this”, finally lifting his eyes from the mechanical puzzle to look directly at Christoph. His gaze was filled with doubt, as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just said.

“Do you really have a lover? Richard wasn’t joking, was he? How could someone like you, terrified of physical contact and obsessed with cleanliness, possibly have a girlfriend? No way! It’s not true, is it?”

What began as curiosity in Johan’s tone quickly turned into interrogation, tinged with envy and disbelief. But no response came. Christoph’s face remained emotionless as he sank back into his chair, turning his head away to avoid even looking at Johan.

Johan, staring intently at Christoph as if trying to confirm something, gradually frowned. After a moment, he muttered in clear dissatisfaction, “So it’s true?” It seemed he had finally realized this wasn’t a joke.

His face betrayed a mix of confusion and unwillingness to accept the truth. Glancing at Christoph with suspicion, Johan let out a soft chuckle.

“Who are you even dating? Is it some kind of pure, Platonic relationship? Don’t tell me you’ve never slept together, never kissed, or even held hands? Tsk tsk.”

Johan shook his head, placed the third solved mechanical puzzle on the table, and picked up the fourth.

Christoph turned his face away, as if resolutely deciding not to engage any further. Meanwhile, Johan busied himself with the puzzle, seemingly oblivious. The two men sitting nearby exchanged glances and whispered to each other: “Looks like he’ll be shutting down his fortune-telling booth soon.” But that’s another story.

“In any case, you’d better maintain the relationship properly. Don’t ruin everything with your mouth like Isaac did.”

As Johan added: “Christoph, you’re just as likely to get caught up in that kind of mess”, Isaac, sitting nearby, suddenly recalled a painful memory he was trying hard to forget. Without a word, he tilted his head back and downed the rest of the bottle in his hand.

“What now? Did you break up with your girlfriend or something?”

Halt, sitting next to Isaac, leaned forward with a curious look. Isaac didn’t respond, only lowering his head as his face darkened. Halt turned to Johan, who clicked his tongue dismissively.

“Well, no wonder she broke up with you. She went to the trouble of giving you a gift, and you just went and exchanged it for something else?”

“But wasn’t the gift meant to make me happy?”

“And that’s exactly why you’re the problem.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” – Johan clicked his tongue again and returned his focus to the puzzle. Meanwhile, Isaac buried his face in his hands, his shoulders slumping in despair.

“What actually happened?” – Halt asked, but no one noticed Christoph, sitting in the corner of the room, subtly perking up his ears to listen.

Isaac’s story, reeking of alcohol yet still sober, was surprisingly simple.

During Christmas, his girlfriend had given him a sweater. However, because it didn’t suit his taste, Isaac took it to the store and exchanged it for something else. When his girlfriend found out, she was deeply hurt and confronted him about it. But Isaac had responded: “Didn’t you give it to me to make me happy? It’s mine now, so what’s wrong with exchanging it for something I actually like?” From that moment on, she stopped contacting him. That was the whole story.

“But I didn’t say anything wrong, did I?” 

“……But wasn’t it during your birthday in the fall when you got a money clip as a gift, and you said using a wallet was more convenient, so the money clip was useless…… and ended up arguing about it too?”

Isaac, who had been stubbornly defending himself, fell silent after Halt, who had been staring at him thoughtfully, softly posed the question.

“You know, the penalty for a first offense and a repeat offense isn’t the same.” 

“Did you hear how he said it? ‘It’s mine; I can do whatever I want with it.’ He actually said that, right in front of the person who gave him the gift.” 

As Johan and Halt continued to banter, Isaac silently drank his liquor, offering no further resistance. But at that moment……

“That’s definitely not what he really meant.”

A completely unexpected voice interrupted.

Christoph had turned to face them, his brow furrowed. Both Johan and Halt, and even Isaac, stared at him in stunned silence.

“What makes people happy isn’t the gift itself, but the thought behind receiving it. The truth is, it’s not the object that brings joy, but the meaning behind giving it. So why should the material thing matter at all?”

No one had expected Christoph to join the conversation, let alone take it so seriously. The other three men simply blinked at him in surprise until Halt was the first to recover.

“Well, I mean, that’s true for some people. But isn’t it also wrong in a way? Even if you don’t have to use a gift you don’t like, exchanging or discarding it is another matter entirely. Doesn’t that betray the giver’s intentions? It’s understandable for the giver to feel hurt.”

“But Isaac didn’t mean to disregard anyone’s feelings. They’ve known each other for years, so she must understand what he thinks and feels. What matters is their mutual understanding—words are secondary, right?” 

But Johan scoffed at Christoph’s reasoning.

“Good intentions need to be shown through actions and made visible to count as real. If the actions are wrong, and the words don’t help, then how is anyone supposed to see those good intentions? Besides, people’s feelings change by the hour, by the minute. Isn’t that just how it is?”

“There’s no way that’s true…… ” Johan’s words made Christoph pause, looking at them with a somber, melancholic gaze. After a moment, he turned away, leaning deeper into the sofa. Finally, he closed his eyes, retreating into himself as if signaling he had no interest in continuing the conversation.

Christoph had stayed up almost all night, and now drowsiness began to creep in. But even with his eyes closed, he couldn’t fall asleep. He sighed in frustration, rolling around on the sofa, trying to find a comfortable position. Behind his closed eyelids, the image of the snow-covered garden from the previous night came vividly to mind.

Last night, after Richard turned and walked away without looking back even once, Christoph had stood there, confused and irritated. Frustrated, he returned to The West Wing, trying to calm the restless feeling in his chest, a mix of anger and a heavy sadness that he couldn’t quite explain.

So, hoping to sleep it off, he went into an empty guest room and lay down on the neatly made bed. But no matter how tightly he shut his eyes, sleep eluded him. So, he got out of bed and sat by the window.

At some point, it had started snowing. Christoph didn’t know when the snow began, but a thin layer of white had already blanketed the window frame. Through the silently falling snow, he could see the building in The East Wing. One of the second-floor windows was still lit. Richard was still awake.

“……”

‘Was that really something worth Richard getting so angry over? Angry enough to turn his back and walk away without so much as a glance? Over just a book? But that restless frustration quickly morphed into a vague and heavy sadness. Was Richard really hurt that deeply……?’

Time passed unnoticed as Christoph rested his head against the cold glass of the window, his vacant gaze fixed on the lit window in The East Wing. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the building. Even from the distance and through the thick darkness, Christoph instantly recognized who it was. It was Richard.

He stood in the middle of the courtyard for a long moment, his eyes scanning everywhere, from the garden to the main building and the area behind it. Snow blanketed the ground, and each of Richard’s hurried steps left clear imprints. It seemed as though he was searching for someone. His movements were quick and restless, as if worried that someone might be standing out in the freezing snow.

Christoph didn’t take his eyes off him. Snow began to settle on Richard’s hair, each flake gently landing on him.

‘Look this way. I’m right here. Just look this way. ……Why won’t you look over here? Why don’t you notice?’

Abruptly, Christoph stood up and began to move. He bolted out of the room, running down the stairs, his steps quickening with every stride. By the time he reached the door to The West Wing, he was practically sprinting.

But when he pushed the door open, the courtyard was empty. There was no one left. Only Christoph, alone, surrounded by the chaotic trail of footprints etched into the pristine snow.

“Tsk, how annoying. It’s snowing again. I thought it cleared up this afternoon, but now it’s starting again.” – Someone grumbled as they stepped into the lobby.

Christoph instinctively opened his eyes and glanced at the wall clock. His gaze briefly met Halt’s, who was already looking at him.

“Christoph, shouldn’t you head back to Berlin by now? Or if it’s snowing this much, why not stay another night and leave in the morning?”

Normally, Christoph would leave Dresden late Sunday afternoon or early evening. But he hadn’t noticed how late it had already gotten—the sky outside was nearly dark.

“No, I’ll go.”

Christoph replied. He rose from the sofa, giving only a fleeting glance to the others as a silent farewell before striding out of the lobby. His steps were quick and deliberate, but as he reached the main entrance of The West Wing, he paused.

Just as someone had mentioned, snow was falling heavily outside, and the sky was pitch black. If he wanted to reach Berlin before it got too late, now was the time to leave. Since he had no luggage with him, leaving immediately wouldn’t be an issue.

“……”

From the main entrance of The West Wing, turning right and looping around the back of the main building would lead to the parking lot. Going straight across the central courtyard, however, would take him to The East Wing.

‘Should I just leave? All I have to do is cross the parking lot and drive back to Berlin.’

Christoph stood frozen under the awning of The West Wing, hesitating for a moment.

He felt uneasy about facing Richard. He didn’t know what to say, how to start, or even how to handle the thought of confronting Richard’s impassive face. The idea alone made him want to avoid it altogether. Christoph just wanted to leave this place and return to Berlin.

But.

“……”

Snow gently fell from the pitch-black sky, blanketing the central courtyard. The snow here had partially melted during the afternoon, only to be covered again with a fresh, thin white layer. On this pristine surface, there were no traces of footsteps.

Christoph stared at the snow-covered courtyard for a long moment. Then, he began to move.

He stepped forward, heading straight toward The East Wing.