When the heart is truly moved, a person becomes capable of the unthinkable. They act without regard for time, place, or reason.

Damien was no exception.

But Mia had always struggled to believe it. His recent words—How can the cool wind make a pact with the dust?—had left her spirit wandering in a daze for hours.

Inside the suite, the warm amber glow of the lamps painted the floor in gold, finally pushing back the lingering chill of the early spring night. Mia leaned against his chest, her gaze somewhat distant and unfocused. After a long silence, she spoke his name in a low murmur.

"Damien."

"Hmm?"

"I have to say... I can't exactly admire your taste in women."

Damien let out a quiet laugh, the sound vibrating against her.

Mia let out a soft sigh. "I'm being serious."

Damien didn't argue. He shifted her in his arms, turning her body so she was forced to face him directly.

"My lady, it is rare for me to be this earnest," he said, his pale gray eyes glinting with amusement. "If you're going to negate my choices, you at least owe me a reason."

"Because of Kitten."

Damien's expression flickered with a rare touch of surprise. "...Kitten?"

"Because of Kitten," Mia repeated, offering him a faint smile. "Given that the Lancaster house already has a woman like her, the fact that you still find Mia Clarke indispensable... in a way, I actually admire your stubbornness."

That girl—Catherine—was the true definition of dazzling. she possessed an incredible, almost impossible vitality that crashed into the souls of everyone around her. She was a force of nature that no one could refuse.

Mia still remembered the first time she had seen her.

It was a winter morning while Mia was a guest at Julian's home. Damien had left Mia's mind full of heavy, unspoken thoughts. Though she never complained, Julian, with his sharp intuition, had seen her distress. He had stayed up with her, offering quiet company and conversation throughout the evening.

That night, Mia couldn't sleep in the unfamiliar environment. Eventually, she gave up on rest entirely. She brewed a cup of tea and sat by the window, watching the snow fall in silence.

Mia had always felt that snow was the most beautiful thing to fall from the heavens—simple, direct, and stirring to the soul. In a scene like that, the only way to truly appreciate it would be to walk barefoot through the drifts.

Heaven had been kind, providing a night of heavy, beautiful snow for her to witness. But Mia had failed herself. She had stayed by the window until dawn, never finding the courage to step outside.

But then, someone else did.

As the first light of morning touched the horizon, Mia heard a sudden, joyful "Whoa!" from below. She looked down and saw a petite silhouette bolt out of the house.

It was Kitten.

She looked as though she had just rolled out of bed, wearing nothing but simple, soft cotton pajamas that looked as fluffy as the snow itself. Her shoulder-length hair was a messy tangle around her face, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Yet, she didn't seem to feel the biting cold. Barefoot, she leaped into the white expanse, each step creating a crisp crunch and leaving behind a trail of small, frantic footprints.

Mia had been about to think, What a girl, exposing herself so recklessly to the elements.

But in the next second, Kitten reached out and snatched a handful of snow from a winter plum branch, along with a few fallen crimson petals, and stuffed the whole mess into her mouth. Mia watched the white mist of her breath and the tip of her pink tongue as she licked the crystals from her lips, her eyes bright with a pure, unadulterated joy.

Simple joy.

That was the true essence of living. In that single moment, Mia couldn't help but fall in love with her.

She watched the girl from the window, her own lips curving into a silent, admiring smile. How many people in this world possessed that kind of spirit? To taste the snow and eat the flowers, to drink the dew and the rain—those were pleasures that required a certain kind of genius.

The world is full of secular conventions that bind us before we even grow up, making us forget how to find delight in the simple things.

Mia set her teacup down, wanting to go downstairs and ask, Who are you?

But before she could move, the answer arrived.

Julian stepped out of the house, his pace hurried, a heavy overcoat draped over his arm. He clearly hadn't been awake long; he still carried the groggy, rumpled aura of the night. Julian suffered from severe low blood pressure in the mornings and usually found it impossible to function, yet here he was, chasing after her. Mia smiled; she knew exactly who the girl in the snow was.

Julian caught Kitten and wrapped her tightly in the oversized coat, then forced a pair of wool slippers onto her feet. He leaned over, rubbing her red-stained hands as he began to scold her.

"Are you an idiot? You didn't get to bed until three, and you're up before the sun just to freeze yourself? And without shoes? You single-celled organism, are you even made of carbohydrates?"

Kitten corrected him with a straight face. "I'm not a single-celled organism. I was formed by mitosis..."

Julian went silent, speechlessly rubbing his temples. In his old life, he'd had a brother who treated narcotics like a game; in his new life, he had a wife who ate things that defied the laws of logic.

Julian glanced at her, noticing a crimson plum petal stuck to the corner of her mouth. As she reached out her tongue to lick it away, something in Julian's heart seemed to snap. He suddenly reached out, cupping the back of her head, and crushed his mouth against hers in a kiss that was both tender and fiercely possessive—as if he were trying to kiss the cold right out of her body.

Mia stepped away from the window then, giving them their private moment.

"Julian has excellent vision," Mia murmured to Damien. "He knew how to claim Kitten before she even understood the world. Now, his life is full of light and his world is never lonely."

Damien leaned down and kissed her forehead, his voice unreadable. "...Do you think you aren't good enough?"

Mia didn't answer directly.

"In Dream of the Red Chamber," she said softly, "it is said that those born of the struggle between the world's pure and evil auras are never ordinary. If born to a noble house, they are the obsessive lovers; if born to a scholar's family, they are the refined recluses. Even if born to the gutter, they become the legendary performers. They are never common."

She smiled. "The meaning is that a vibrant life will be extraordinary no matter where it is planted. You, Julian, Kitten—all of you are those kinds of lives. But I am not."

Damien tightened his hold on her. "...Oh?"

"I'm not," she told him honestly. "I know exactly who I am. It isn't hard to be my friend, but to spend a lifetime by my side... I don't think that would be a happy fate for anyone."

Damien studied her, his eyes deep and void of light.

"Let me tell you a story," she continued. "Years ago, after my father fled and left my mother and me with his wreckage, we managed to scrape together five million to pay a portion of the debt. The night before the payment was due, an uncle came to us. He had been dragged down by my father's business and owed the underworld five hundred thousand. My mother refused him; we were two hundred million in debt ourselves. We were drowning."

"Later, I stole five hundred thousand from our pile and gave it to him. When my mother found out, she slapped me."

"She was the one who hit me, but she was the one who cried. I think my personality was just too great a disappointment to her, so I didn't explain myself. My logic was simple: we already owed two hundred million. What was another five hundred thousand? We were ruined regardless. But for that uncle, five hundred thousand was the difference between life and death. It could end his nightmare. But that's a logic not everyone can accept."

"Another time, I asked Kitten what she would do if someone had something she desperately wanted. She said she'd find a way to make enough money to buy it, and if they wouldn't sell, she'd find a way to trick them out of it. My method is much more passive. I would just pretend I didn't like it, or force myself to forget it existed. You see, Damien? That is the difference between us."

"It's a psychological contrast. Kitten is the girl who lives actively, aggressively. She is the one suited for the long haul."

"I don't have her vitality. I don't have Julian's balance of steel and silk. And I certainly don't have your dazzling, ruinous temptation. Being with me... a long life with me... there won't be many surprises. There won't be much brilliance."

"...And so, Damien, I have always felt a sense of regret for you," she whispered, her brow shadowed by a deep, habitual loneliness. "The world is full of vibrant, extraordinary women. Yet you, Damien Lancaster, gambled your very life just to have the most ordinary one of all."