# Chapter 58
A year had passed. The rain, which had been falling stubbornly, naturally changed to snow even though I hadn’t left. The forest, which had been naked while enduring the rain, turned pure white again. It was nearly four months since Rite had left.
Snow falling here didn’t hold much significance. Rather, it was the days when it didn’t snow that had more meaning. No one even remembered the first snow of the season. However, that day was definitely the day of the first snowfall.
There was still plenty of firewood left. The jam eventually spoiled, so I threw out what I had been eating and received new orange jam from Pini. I left the jam unopened in the kitchen.
Today, there wasn’t anything particular to do. For someone like me who had no holidays, it was like an irregular day off. I sat in the rocking chair and opened a book I had been reading.
The book I was reading today was called “The Song of the Black Flower.” It was a novel I had taken from its owner’s abandoned room. I wasn’t particularly someone who enjoyed literature, but I started picking up books whenever I had nothing to do. I began with short poems, but quickly gave them up.
The poetry collections owned by the room’s previous occupant contained many abstruse sentences, such as “The tongue rubs itself against the smooth palate, feeling the bumps that have sprouted on the body.” I couldn’t interpret such sentences in any way. I stopped doubting my reading comprehension and understanding, and decided to read novels, which were written much more kindly. Compared to poetry, the sentences in novels were sufficiently understandable and acceptable.
Not that I particularly liked this book either. The book was quite thick. To give you an idea, it was similar in thickness to “Understanding, Analysis, and Advanced Operation of Aether.” That was the third thickest book I owned. It wouldn’t matter if it was thick as long as the content was substantial, but this book had too many unnecessary sentences.
For instance, it would describe the sunny appearance of a city over a full three pages, or repetitive similar sentences describing the sadness felt when not receiving a reply from a lover.
Even if written just once briefly, readers would understand and remember it sufficiently. The author clearly thought readers were complete fools. If the story wasn’t interesting, I would have stopped reading long ago.
I was reading more than two pages of the protagonist’s psychological struggle, contemplating whether to die from grief, when—
Tok, todoruk.
A sound like raindrops falling was heard. It was a bit too dull to be rain and too cheerful to be a knock. It was noise loud enough for me to hear clearly even sitting far from the window, but not loud enough to disturb my nerves.
The sound was brief. I turned my attention back to the book after sensing the surroundings had become quiet again. Finally, the protagonist had decided to commit suicide and now began talking to himself about how to die. There was still a long way to go in the story, so he wouldn’t actually die, but why did the author write this at such length? I was thinking this as I read just two sentences when—
Tok-tok tok-tok-tok.
I looked toward the window at the sound that came again. The curtains were drawn, so I couldn’t see outside. The light on the sensor connected to the machine didn’t turn on either. It meant no living creature had crossed the line and approached the house.
I put down the book I’d been reading and stood up. The repeated clear sound seemed to be calling me. When I slightly lifted the curtains out of habit, I saw something white and round.
What I thought might be a snowball didn’t break even after hitting the window. It was too white to be seen properly. I completely removed the curtains to examine it in detail.
“…What, why…”
After confirming what was standing outside the window, I turned my head to look at the sensor. The sensor hadn’t reacted. When I turned my gaze, it knocked on the window again.
No matter how I looked at it, it was a unicorn. It was tapping the glass window with the horn on its head. Without even thinking of drawing the curtains again, I opened the front door and went outside.
As soon as I came out, the unicorn immediately turned around and began walking slowly. Rather than saying it walked, it would be more appropriate to say it floated. It wasn’t stamping on the ground and walking forward, but rather moved smoothly and slowly, as if swimming underwater.
Following behind it as if entranced, I felt a strange tremor and excitement. The situation was somehow familiar.
Wherever the unicorn passed, tiny sparkling particles, like snow petals scattering, trailed behind like a tail. They dispersed into the air and ultimately disappeared into the white snow field. I couldn’t tell whether they were indistinguishable because they were both white, or if they had completely disappeared. As I was staring at this while walking, I noticed something strange.
There were no footprints where the unicorn had passed. I raised my head and stared at the unicorn’s back. From horn to hoof, the pure white creature was semi-transparent like smoke. It looked more like an illusion than an actual living being.
I tried to put my hand through the powder scattered behind the unicorn, but I couldn’t feel it on my skin. I thought it was strange, but that didn’t make me want to go back.
I had met it before. That day, I discovered what I had been looking for.
Even as I walked alone through the forest without any protective equipment, I didn’t feel any sense of danger. My heart was beating so fast it felt like it might burst. It was the anticipation that the waiting, which had felt so endlessly long, might finally come to an end.
As if responding to my excitement, the unicorn walking in front of me gradually picked up speed. The horse, which had been stepping elegantly, suddenly began running quickly. White breath kept bursting out. I was short of breath, and my body, without an overcoat, began to freeze in the cold.
It wasn’t an Izirak since it had a plain face without anything that could be called eyes, but it might be a monster similar to one. People didn’t know much about the Winter Forest. No one knew how many monsters there were or how diverse the species living together were. It was an unknown place and, consequently, a symbol of fear.
Nevertheless, I followed breathlessly as if I would die if I lost sight of it. I wanted to shout for it to go a little slower, but I was too breathless to speak. Running on snow accumulated up to near my calves required a lot of stamina.
The unicorn, which had been running urgently ahead, changed direction through densely packed trees. I hurriedly followed, afraid of losing it. Entering through the trees that stood closely together, a small snow field appeared. It was as if the trees were hiding the place.
Tak, tak-tak.
Pinecones hitting wood fragments made small sounds like bells. Though not as clear as bell sounds, they were quite pleasant to hear. The unicorn had vanished without a trace, and another presence appeared. The person standing in front of the mobile hanging on the tree was someone I knew well.
The black hair, contrasting with the white forest, seemed both out of place and yet completed the picture. In the forest covered entirely in white snow, Rite’s black hair fluttered in the wind. Even just looking from a distance, I could imagine the texture of his hair. Pushing my fingers through that hair and slowly caressing it, it would slip through my fingers like fine sand.
“Rite.”
My voice came out choked as I called the name after so long. As if he had been waiting for my voice, Rite slowly turned to face me. He had obviously changed since the last time I saw him. His height, which hadn’t been much different from mine, seemed to have grown by at least a hand’s breadth. His broad shoulders and sturdy body looked like a tree rooted in that spot. A perfect adult.
Rite’s eyes gently curved when we met again. He showed no sign of surprise, as if he had known I would come. He extended both arms toward me—his left arm with human appearance and his right arm with the appearance of a monster.
“It’s been a while, Arden.”
It was a child’s signal asking to be hugged. Belatedly responding to that signal, I moved to approach him. My steps were slow due to the deeply piled snow. When we were close enough to see each other’s breath bursting from our lips, Rite couldn’t wait any longer and embraced me.
“I missed you.”
Despite his affectionate tone, his voice was a mess. Rite buried his face deeply in my neck and rubbed, trying hard to hide his trembling voice, but I could see it all.
Pitifully, he hugged me with both trembling arms, applying strength. As if trying to hide that fact.
“Welcome back, Rite.”
I kept adjusting my embrace, disappointed that I could no longer hold him in one arm. As if understanding my feelings, Rite hunched his shoulders and burrowed into my arms.
On the day of the first snow, Rite returned too. Back to this forest.
At that moment, I realized how much I loved Rite.
