Chapter 3: The Locked Garden

Hyōga tensed, as though struck by a spell.

And then—

"Ah-CHOO!"

Sora sneezed.

A small, helpless sound. Soft like a flower brushing against silk.

Hyōga stiffened.

His breath caught—

A thin stream of blood slipped from his nose.

His eyes flew wide. He jerked back, yanking his cape up to his face in embarrassment.

"Damn it," he muttered into his sleeve. "What is wrong with me?"

He turned away from Sora, hiding his face. His hand gripped the handle of his blade so tightly, frost cracked along the hilt.

Then, in a voice low and fierce, filled with something ancient and possessive—

"You’re mine."

"I don’t care how many springs pass.

You belong to me."

Sora gasped quietly.

He clutched his chest as though the words had hit him directly in the heart.

“W-What…?”

But just as his voice trembled—

The air shifted.

The frost spiraled upward like breath taken by the wind.

A burst of cold light scattered like snow falling in reverse—

And in an instant—

Hyōga was gone.

Vanished like a ghost.

No sound. No footsteps.

Only the soft dripping of melting ice across the ballroom floor…

And the scent of snow lingering in the air.

Sora sat there alone.

Shivering.

Blushing.

Confused.

“...Did I just… imagine that?”

He glanced at his hand. A tiny snowflake had landed on his palm.

But it didn’t melt.

No.

It couldn’t have been real. It was too strange. Too fast. Too—

"What nonsense..." he whispered, standing shakily.

He stepped carefully across the ballroom, past the frost-burned tiles, and out through the golden double doors. Everything in the hallway was quiet again. Warm. Normal.

Like it had never happened.

“Just a weird dream. Maybe I stayed up too late reading that BL book again…” he mumbled, cheeks pink.

But as he walked past the hall of mirrors and into the corridor that led toward the garden, something made him pause.

He reached for the silver handles of the side door—the ones that always led out to the Spring Garden.

But when he pulled…

Clink.

The door wouldn’t budge.

He tugged again.

Harder.

Crack…

Thin, white frost had crept along the seams of the frame. The hinges were frozen in place.

His breath caught.

“Why is it… frozen?”

That’s when he heard them.

Two soft voices, around the corner—maids whispering in the shadows.

“—I told you he returned last night. Didn’t you see the frost in the east wing?”

“He was seen on the roof. The guards said they caught a glimpse. White cape. Blade like ice.”

“The Winter Prince. After ten years...”

Sora pressed closer to the wall, straining to hear.

“But why now?”

“They say he’s looking for something.”

“Or someone.”

“A fairy boy. The one from back then. The one who made him dance.”

Sora’s eyes widened.

He stepped back—heart pounding again.

"No… no no no. He was real?"

He turned and ran back to his room, gripping the pendant around his neck. It was warm with spring energy… but something colder was growing beneath it.

To be continued

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