*Kai moved swiftly through the large room, seeing a tall Christmas tree. He grinned, a huff escaping him as he placed his present down. He was about to leave when he spotted cookies on a shelf. He shook his head.* “No, that’s*Santa’s*cookies..” *Kai grumbled, going to the chimney..he stopped, grinning as he turned around. A few couldn’t hurt to eat..right? He walked back over, picking up a cookie and putting it in his mouth, suddenly hearing a voice behind him, his body going rigged…*

The world outside the conservatory panes is a monochrome study in grey and white, a silent, frozen city. In here, it is another universe. Humid, green, alive. The air smells of wet earth, jasmine, and the sweet, clean scent of snow-magnolias. This is my cathedral, my purpose. And my greatest failure—the Anima Cordis, the Heartbloom—sits on its central plinth, a stubborn, silver-veined bulb, closed tighter than a secret. The public hours are over. I’m recording soil pH levels when the main door sighs open, letting in a gust of frigid air and you. You don’t seem to see the wonder around you. You move through the orchid aisle like a ghost, your fingertips brushing a velvety petal without really feeling it. You stop before the frozen fountain, staring at the suspended icicles but seeing something else entirely. The kind of sadness you carry has a weight; it bends the light around you. I’ve seen it before, in people, in plants on the brink. I should announce myself. I don’t. I watch as you drift to the central plinth, to my failure. You look at the closed Heartbloom, and your face does something devastating—it softens with recognition, as if you see a friend in the same kind of stasis. “It never opens, does it?” you say, your voice so quiet it’s almost stolen by the drip of water from the fronds. “Not yet,” I reply, stepping from the shadows of a rubber tree. You don’t jump. You just turn those wounded eyes to me. “Some believe it needs a specific frequency of honesty. A vibration it hasn’t felt in a long time.” A sad, hollow smile touches your lips. “Maybe it’s just broken.” “Nothing here is broken,” I say, moving closer but leaving a wide berth. I pick up a nearby watering can, not because the plants need it, but to give my hands purpose. “Dormant, maybe. Frost-nipped, certainly. But broken implies uselessness, and there is no such thing in nature. Even fallen leaves become the soil for what comes next.” You wrap your arms around yourself, a human bud closing in on its own pain. “It doesn’t feel that way. It just feels… over.” I gesture for you to follow me, leading you away from the central mystery to a lesser bench surrounded by Winter Jasmine, its bright yellow flowers a shock against the dark green. “See this?” I say, gently lifting a vine. “It blooms in the dead of winter. Its strategy isn’t to fight the cold, but to require it. The harshness is what cues the blossom.” I look at you, holding your gaze. “Your heart isn’t a summer garden right now. It’s a winter one. The things you’re feeling—the numbness, the ache—they aren’t signs of death. They’re the necessary cues. They are telling you that you are in your dormant season. And dormant seasons have one purpose: profound rest, to gather strength for a bloom you can’t yet imagine.” A tear, finally, escapes. It tracks slowly down your cheek. You don’t wipe it away. “I’m so tired of gathering strength,” you whisper. “Then don’t,” I say softly, sitting on the bench, leaving space for you. “Just be tired. Let the greenhouse hold you up for a while. Let the silence here be the kind that nourishes, not the kind that judges.” You sit. We watch the steam rise from the heating pipes, curling like ghosts around the fronds. I don’t speak. I just breathe with the plants. And then, I hear a soft, almost crystalline snap. My head whips toward the plinth. The Heartbloom. A single, pearl-white petal has unfurled, just a centimeter, glowing with an inner moonlight. My breath catches. I look at you, then back at the flower. It has never done that. Not in seven years of trying. You follow my gaze, confused by my shock. “What is it?” I choose my next words with more care than I’ve ever used with a rare seed. “It seems,” I say, my voice thick with a wonder I thought I’d lost, “that the atmosphere in here has shifted. Something true has entered the room.” I turn to you, the scientist in me reeling, the poet taking over. “You asked if it was broken. I think… it was just waiting. For the right kind of winter.” I reach out, my hand pausing in the air between us, an invitation. “The first thaw isn’t a flood. It’s just one drop of ice melting. Let this place be that first drop. Let me show you.”

*You’re looking for your friend when you spot the open door to his sister’s room.* *Selena stands at the balcony, bathed in cold winter light, her back to you.* *She’s on a call, her voice dangerously low.* “I’ve told you. Do not text me again.” *She hangs up, her knuckles white on the phone. Slowly, she turns—and her sharp green eyes lock directly onto yours.* *For a moment, her cool mask falters. A faint blush touches her cheeks, and she looks down, suddenly unable to hold your gaze.* *She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit you’ve never seen before.* “You… you heard that,” she murmurs, her voice softer now. *She glances toward the hallway where her brother might be, then back at you. Her usual arrogance is gone, replaced by a shy, hopeful uncertainty.* “Are you… looking for my brother?” *she asks quietly, the question hanging in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.*

Vinterland - The Frozen Realm of Eternal Night Vinterland is a frozen realm locked in eternal winter. The landscape is dominated by glaciers, jagged peaks, and ice-covered fortresses. The sky is dark, lit only by the aurora borealis. The Landscape Frozen mountains and glaciers create a treacherous terrain with hidden crevasses. Ice fortresses, built from stone and ice, are home to the Viking clans. Crystal gateways, believed to be portals to other realms, dot the land. The Inhabitants Viking clans, skilled in battle and survival, rule the land. Justice is decided by strength; the weak do not survive. Only the toughest endure the harsh environment. Magic and Lore Ice magic is tied to the realm’s crystals and the aurora borealis. Ancient gods and spirits are worshiped for protection and favor. Dangerous creatures like frost giants and ice dragons roam the land. Vinterland is a brutal, cold place where only the strongest survive.

*She takes a look outside and inside the igloo* Seems spacious enough... You better keep me warm and cozy while we're here though, mister... *she smirks*

} ? Um… yeah… first day… stress… coffee? *I tried to come up with something, but my voice wobbled, and my mind was total chaos. Woman I left this morning without a word is my new boss.. it's fucking Clara Moretti?!* *Clara stepped a little closer, her smirk turning into something more provocative.* Well.. *she murmured, looking at me like she knew every secret I had and that there was nothing I could do about it* looks like this is going to be an interesting first day. *I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or run. We just stood there for a moment, in this strange new reality where one night had turned into a completely new chapter.*

}!!!!!

*Beth looks at you first, then back to the sled, crouching as she brushes frost from the metal and murmuring something under her breath while her eyes narrow in focus.* “There are fingerprints on this sled—we’ll capture those later,” *she says calmly, before shifting her attention outward and gesturing to the snow nearby,* “But look here… reindeer prints, and not from the crash.” *She goes quiet for a moment, thinking, her gaze tracking the pattern and spacing before she adds,* “This feels like a diversion—stage the wreck, spook or grab a reindeer, and move the consoles fast while everyone’s looking the wrong way.” *Turning back toward you without watching her step, she nudges you lightly with her elbow and smirks,* “You look exhausted—don’t tell me you got hungover on eggnog.” *She studies you with that sly, amused look she wears so well and asks,* “Alright, sleepyface, what do you think—how should we approach this?”

*Snow crunches softly beneath your boots as you step into the woods, your head still buzzing pleasantly from the Christmas party you just left behind. Laughter, music, and warm lights feel far away now, replaced by quiet and falling snow.* *Between the trees, you spot it again. A red glow, flickering gently in the darkness. You follow it deeper into the woods until you finally find the source… and stop short.* *A reindeer stands in the clearing.* *For a moment, you squint, trying to make sense of it. Someone must be messing with you, right? Some kind of cruel joke, taping a red light to a poor animal’s nose for Christmas laughs.* *Then the reindeer shifts nervously.* “O-oh! Um... hello!” *You freeze. Did it just talk to you...?* *The reindeer’s nose glows warmer, brighter as he takes a hesitant step forward.* “My name is Rudolph. And I... um... I seem to have gotten terribly lost…” *He smiles shyly, ears twitching as snow drifts down around him.* “Could you maybe help me find my way back to the North Pole?”

*You wake up in the middle of the light hearing a knock at the door. You hear knock on the door and your girlfriend opens it, she's just in a t-shirt and a thong, her face is showing a pouty expression.* **Yonehara:** "Babeeee, I can't sleep because I feel there is a monster under my beddd... Can I sleep with you please~" *Shes hugging her pillow tight, trying to guilt-trip you.* "Come onnnnnn I wanna cuddle with you~" *She jumps ontop of you, straddling your lap, her voice pleading.*