The metal manhole cover shifted with the sound of heavy metal.

  Mira crawled out first, inhaling the surface air as if it were the first oxygen her lungs had ever touched. The air up here was different. Clean, sharp, and biting the skin, a stark contrast to the stifling heat and the smell of burning moss down below.

  She stood in the dark, narrow alley, her knees still trembling slightly from the leftover effects of Kars' Gravity Style.

  Kars followed a minute later, closing the secret entrance again with a casual kick.

  "Don't only stand there," Kars said, his voice slightly hoarse. "Your sweat will freeze in five minutes."

  Mira turned. And for the first time that night, she realized how messed up their appearances were. Or more accurately, hers.

  The back of Mira's shirt—a pricey silk blouse given by Henesa—was completely burnt, leaving a large hole that exposed her back, wrapped in makeshift bandages. The remaining fabric on her body was dirty with soot and stone dust.

  As for Kars... That man stood there wearing only a thin white shirt with loosely rolled sleeves, revealing his toned forearm muscles. His vest and tie had vanished somewhere. And the thing that was supposed to keep Kars warm—his trusty long Black Cloak—was now draped heavily over Mira's shoulders.

  "This is too big," Mira murmured, pulling at the collar of the robe. The shoulders slipped down to her upper arms, and the ends of the sleeves covered her entire palms, leaving only her fingertips visible. "I look like a child stealing her father's clothes."

  "You are a child," Kars replied, but he didn’t start walking immediately. He was busy straightening his wrinkled shirt, trying to look presentable despite the cold. "And that robe isn’t for fashion. It’s to cover your back so no civilians scream at the sight of your burns."

  Kars took out his cigarette box. Empty. He clicked his tongue in frustration, crushed the box, and threw it into the nearest trash can.

  "Since when do you smoke?" Mira asked.

  "Since yesterday. Part of the disguise. Come on. Let’s walk. The horse carriage doesn’t run at three in the morning."

  They started walking through the dead streets of Everiven.

  This city, which is usually noisy and aggressive during the day, now looks peaceful, almost fragile. The shops are closed, the windows dark. Only the crystal-powered streetlights hum softly, bathing the cobblestone streets in a pale yellow light that casts long shadows behind their footsteps.

  Mira pulled Kars' cloak closer around her body. The cloak was warm. Not just warm because of its thick wool, but because Kars' residual body heat still lingered in it. And the scent... Mira lowered her face slightly, letting her nose sink into the stiff collar of the cloak. It smelled masculine and complex. A mix of sweet unburned tobacco, the cool mint aroma of the candies Kars often ate, and a faint ozone scent, like static electricity, which Mira had never been able to describe. Ah, the man beside her was indeed very mysterious.

  "You're cold," Mira said suddenly, breaking the silence of their footsteps.

  She looked at Kars. Without a cloak, the white shirt offered no protection against the north wind that was starting to blow strongly. The skin on Kars' neck and arms looked pale, and Mira could see the hair on his arms standing up. Yet his posture remained upright. Both of his hands were tucked into his pants pockets in an attempt at a casual stance.

  "Stealix doesn't feel cold," Kars replied without turning, his breath forming thick white puffs in the air. "I just... choose not to be warm."

  "You're shivering," Mira pointed out.

  "That's the leftover vibration from Intian."

  "Your lips are blue."

  "It's the latest cosmetic trend among the nobility."

  Mira snorted softly. A small laugh escaped her lips. "You're stubborn, Mr. Star. Take this cloak back. My back doesn't hurt anymore. Besides, I just became a walking sun half an hour ago. My body temperature is still high."

  Mira began unbuttoning the cloak, intending to take it off.

  Kars stopped abruptly. He turned around, his hand moving quickly to stop Mira's hand. Kars' cold, long fingers touched Mira's wrist, halting her movement.

  "Don't," Kars said. His voice was low, softer than usual. His grey eyes stared straight into Mira Amber's eyes.

  They stood facing each other under the flickering streetlight. The distance between them was less than half a meter.

  "You just burned your own skin, Mira," Kars continued quietly. He didn't let go of Mira's hand; instead, he used it to pull back the collar of the robe so that it was tightly closed around the girl's neck. His hand smoothed the collar with strangely meticulous movements, as if to make sure not an inch of wind could get in.

  "Healing magic requires heat energy. If you are cold now, your wounds will be scarred. And Henesa won't forgive me if her adopted daughter has an ugly scar on her back."

  "I have a lot of scars," Mira protested, her voice shrinking. His heart was beating strangely, not because of the adrenaline of training, but because of this physical closeness.

  Kars is too close. Mira could see the small black spots on the iris of Kars's gray eyes. She could see the shadow of the thin beard that was starting to grow on his jaw because he hadn't shaved since yesterday.

  "Not a star-shaped burn scar," Kars corrected. He finally released the collar of the robe, but his hand didn’t drop immediately. His fingers brushed Mira’s cheek for a brief moment—just a second—to flick away a strand of hair stuck on her lip.

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  The touch was cold, but it left a trail of fire on Mira’s skin.

  “Just wear it,” Kars said, breaking eye contact and walking away again. “Anyway, the robe looks better on you than on me. Gives you a bit of... volume.”

  Mira froze for a moment, her cheeks warming. “Did you just say I’m thin?” she exclaimed, running to catch up with Kars’ long strides.

  “I said you’re aerodynamically efficient. Different thing.”

  “Besides, why don’t you flow Intian like you did in the Jangberg Forest? Doesn’t that make you warm?”

  Kars glanced at the ground for a moment, then looked back at Mira. “I can’t use Intian just like that. Not because it could be detected, but…”

  “But?” Mira raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m using it for something else, which requires a bigger supply of Intian.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Kars didn’t want to tell Mira. Not so soon. But he had already kept too many secrets, and this wasn’t a big deal. “I use the stars in the sky to track or detect various threats. This city won’t always be safe. Our enemies aren’t just the Golden Angels Order, but also Eaver, Draven, and the bounty hunters.”

  "Besides, I'm also a fugitive from the Northern Alliance. Asnaven is part of the Northern Alliance. I can't just wander around freely, that's why I often disappear. And I rely on the stars above to help me."

  "Ashart? They know you?"

  Kars nodded. "They're the only ones who don't follow the system. They're crazy nobles, not honorable and structured ones. They don't care about threats… They care…"

  "Care?"

  "The gist is, they care about balance. With the magic of the stars, the world will return to balance. That's their belief. Come on, don't just stand there."

  They walked again. But this time, the distance between them shrank. Their shoulders occasionally brushed as they walked side by side on the narrow sidewalk. No one moved away.

  Mira felt strange. All this time, she had seen Kars as an authority figure. An annoying teacher. An arrogant savior. A pretentious adult who was irresponsible. But tonight, on this quiet street, Kars felt... young. Young in the truest sense. Without his cloak of grandeur and without the intimidating aura of magic, he was just a young man walking home with a girl at three in the morning, enduring the cold for his ego.

  Mira glanced at Kars’s hand hanging by his side. The hand was slightly clenched, the knuckles reddened by the cold. Without overthinking, Mira extended her hand, covered by the sleeve of her long cloak. She reached for Kars’s wrist.

  Kars flinched slightly, turning around in surprise. "Mira?"

  "Quiet," Mira said. She grabbed Kars' right hand, then placed it into the pocket of the large cloak she was wearing. The cloak's pocket was deep and spacious. Inside, Mira's hand held Kars's hand.

  Mira's hand was warm from the leftover three orbs and the thick wool layer. Kars' hand was ice-cold. As their skin touched inside the narrow, warm pocket, Mira felt Kars tense for a moment.

  "What are you doing?" Kars whispered.

  "Sharing a pocket," Mira replied, staring straight ahead, trying desperately to make her voice sound casual. "This is your cloak. The pocket is yours. My hand is warm. Your hand is frozen. It's... thermodynamic exchange. Efficiency."

  Kars was silent for a long time. Mira was afraid he would pull his hand away. Afraid he would laugh and tease her for being childish.

  But Kars did not pull his hand away. Slowly, Kars' stiff fingers in the pocket began to relax. His palm opened, then, hesitantly, his fingers intertwined with Mira's. Gripping back.

  It wasn't a romantic hand-hold from a cheesy novel. It was firm, solid. The grip of someone seeking support in the middle of a storm.

  "Thermodynamics," Kars murmured, his laugh sounding low and trembling in his throat. "A good reason."

  They walked in silence again. But this time, the silence was filled with static electricity flowing from their hands, intertwined in the pocket of their coats.

  Then, something fell on Mira's nose. Cold. Wet.

  Mira looked up. The deep purple night sky suddenly filled with white dots.

  "Snow," Mira whispered.

  It wasn't a blizzard. It was the first snow falling slowly, soft cotton-like flakes drifting down in slow motion.

  Kars stopped walking. Mira stopped too, their hands still linked in the pocket.

  Mira reluctantly let go of their hand in the pocket to cup her hands outward. A snowflake landed on her black fabric glove, and it didn't melt. For the first time in her life, Mira felt snow.

  In the south, it never snows. The climate there is always stable every year. The division of night and day is always balanced, neither more nor less.

  "Beautiful," murmured Mira, under the city's quiet streetlights, the snow looked... magical.

  She turned to Kars. And she found that Kars was not looking at the snow. That man was looking at Mira.

  The streetlight above them created a halo around Kars's hair. His gray eyes reflected the white specks of falling snow, but his focus was entirely locked on Mira's face. The gaze was intense. Open. No walls. No "Cool Guy" mask. There was only a man staring at a woman as if she were the only thing in color in a black-and-white world.

  Mira felt her breath short. He lowered his hand. "Kars?"

  Kars did not answer. He stepped forward. One step. Their distance is gone. The ends of their shoes touched.

  Kars raised his bandage-wrapped left hand and gently swept away the snowflakes that landed on Mira's brown hair. His thumb touched Mira's temples, then slowly descended her jawline.

  Mira froze. Not because it was cold, but because of the sensation of the touch. Her heart was beating so fast that she was afraid Kars could hear it in the silence of this empty street.

  "You..." Kars's voice was hoarse, deeper than usual. He looked into Mira's eyes, then his gaze briefly dropped to her slightly parted lips before returning to her eyes.

  "You what?" Mira whispered, her voice nearly fading.

  Kars looked like he was fighting with himself. There was a conflict in his eyes—desire against logic. His face moved closer. Mira could feel Kars's warm breath on her cold face. The smell of tobacco and mint grew stronger, intoxicating. Mira did not back away. Instead, she unconsciously stood on her tiptoes, bringing herself slightly closer.

  Their lips were only a few centimeters apart. The world around them shrank until only the steam of their breath mingling in the cold air remained.

  "You..." Kars exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment as if holding back pain. "...you wore my cloak very poorly. The collar is crooked."

  Kars opened his eyes, stepped back half a step, and grabbed the collar of the robe with both hands, straightening it with a decisive motion.

  The moment shattered. Like a soap bubble touching a needle.

  Mira blinked, confused and a little disappointed. She planted her heels back on the ground. "Oh. Really?"

  "Yes," said Kars. His voice returned to normal—calm, slightly mocking, but Mira could hear a faint tremor in it. Kars’s ears were red, and Mira was sure it wasn’t just from the cold. "You’re a mess, Rhea. Henesa is going to have a heart attack."

  Kars cleared his throat, then turned around and started walking again, a bit faster than before. "Come on. Before we turn into ice statues."

  Mira stood there for two seconds, staring at Kars' broad back, clad only in a shirt wet from the steadily falling snow. She touched her own lips. There was still a lingering tickling sensation from their earlier closeness.

  He wants to kiss me, Mira thought. I know he wants to. And what was even scarier for Mira: I want him to do it.

  Mira gave a small smile. A secret smile. She wrapped the large cloak tighter around herself, savoring the remaining warmth from Kars's embrace. "Wait for me!" Mira called, jogging a little to catch up with him.

  As she walked beside Kars again, he didn’t turn around. But his right hand came out of his trouser pocket, slightly open. A silent invitation.

  Mira smiled widely. She slipped her hand back into the pocket of the large cloak, searching for and finding Kars' cold hand. They intertwined again.

  This time, Kars held it tighter. They walked through the increasingly heavy snowfall, two connected silhouettes in the midst of a sleeping city. Their hands were intertwined in the pocket, becoming the only warmth in a city that would be filled with cold.

  In the distance, the Palace bell rang four times. Morning had come to Everiven. And winter had officially begun.