The room was quiet, filled only with the faint crackle of the fire and the distant whisper of the wind outside. Johan sat there without moving, his gaze lowered as if fixed on something only he could see. Across from him, Vein held his cup, silently watching.
Then a sharp sound echoed in his mind.
A blade breaking.
Not from the room, but from somewhere deeper—
a memory he could not let go of.
The yard had not been peaceful that day. The air itself felt heavy, thick with tension that neither of them could escape.
Rosa stood in front of him, gripping her wooden sword tightly. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths as she stared straight at him, her small hands trembling not from fear, but from stubborn determination.
"I can do it…" she said, her voice shaking despite her effort to sound firm.
Johan remained still. His expression did not change, but his eyes were sharp, unyielding.
"You don't understand what you're asking for."
"I do!" Rosa snapped immediately.
"You don't."
His reply came faster this time, sharper than before.
The space between them tightened, as if the air itself had grown heavier.
Rosa stepped forward, her grip tightening around the sword.
"Then tell me!" she demanded.
Johan did not answer.
That silence only made things worse.
Her fingers curled tighter around the wooden hilt, as if holding onto it was the only way to prove herself.
"I just want to be a Knight… what's wrong with that, Papa?"
Johan's gaze hardened.
"That's not something a child should choose."
"I'm not a child!"
Her voice cracked at the end, but she didn't look away.
For a brief moment, they simply stood there, staring at each other. Neither of them willing to step back, neither willing to give in.
Then Johan moved.
Fast.
He stepped forward and took the wooden sword from her hands.
Before she could react—
the wooden sword snapped cleanly in two.
The sound echoed through the yard.
Everything froze.
Rosa stared down at what remained in her hands. The broken hilt trembled slightly as her fingers tightened around it.
Her favorite sword.
Gone.
Her shoulders began to shake.
"…Why…?" she whispered.
Johan's voice came low, steady, but heavy.
"I've told you again and again."
His grip tightened around the other half of the broken blade.
"Being a Knight is dangerous."
Silence followed.
Rosa's lips trembled as tears gathered in her eyes.
"I hate you, Papa!"
The words broke out of her before she could stop them.
She turned and ran, her small footsteps echoing across the yard as she disappeared into the house.
Johan remained where he stood.
Still.
Silent.
The broken sword rested in his hand as the wind moved quietly through the empty space she had left behind.
"Johan…"
A soft voice came from behind him.
"You never get along with your own child."
He didn't turn.
Violet stepped beside him, her gaze lingering in the direction Rosa had gone before lowering to the broken pieces on the ground. She crouched, picked up the remaining hilt, and gently placed it into Johan's hand.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then, quietly—
"…I just don't want her to become like me."
Violet looked at him, her expression softening.
"What's wrong with becoming like you?"
Johan frowned slightly, but didn't answer.
Violet continued, her voice calm but certain.
"You know… every child wants to become like their father."
Johan's grip tightened around the broken wood.
"…Even so," he said slowly, "being a Knight is too heavy for a child."
His voice lowered.
"Especially for a girl."
The wind passed softly between them.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Violet tilted her head slightly.
"…Then why don't you quit?" she said.
"Find another way to live."
Johan blinked, caught off guard.
"…Huh?"
"I get lonely too," she added quietly.
Her voice remained gentle, but there was no hesitation in it.
"When you leave home."
Silence fell once more.
Johan lowered his gaze to the broken hilt in his hand. The fracture ran clean through it, a reminder of something that could not be undone.
For a long moment, he simply stared at it.
Then he spoke.
"…A farmer."
Violet froze.
"…What?"
Johan lifted his gaze toward the fields beyond the yard. The wind moved softly through the grass, calm and endless.
"I think… I'll become a farmer after this war is over."
Violet's eyes widened slightly.
Then, slowly, a warm smile spread across her face.
She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him.
"Then I'll become a farmer's wife."
Before Johan could react, she rose on her toes and kissed his cheek.
He froze in place.
Violet laughed softly at his expression.
And in that quiet moment—
for the first time in a long while—
the future did not feel like war.
It felt like home.
—
The warmth of that moment faded like a dream. The quiet laughter, the simple promise—everything slipped away, leaving only the cold behind. The fire crackled softly, and outside, the snow kept falling in silence.
Johan lowered his gaze.
"…Yeah," he murmured. "That was what I wanted."
Vein frowned.
"…What did you say, Mr. Johan?"
Johan blinked, as if coming back from somewhere far away. He looked at Vein, his expression softening for a brief moment.
"…Thank you, Vein."
Vein raised an eyebrow.
"What are you talking about? I've just been sitting here."
A faint smile appeared on Johan's lips.
"Yes. That alone is enough."
Vein didn't fully understand, but somehow, he didn't feel the need to ask further.
Johan stood up slowly. The chair scraped lightly against the floor as he moved. He walked to the shelf and picked up a small object—a broken sword hilt. It was old, worn smooth by time, but the crack was still clearly visible.
His fingers brushed over it.
"…Forgive me, Violet," he said quietly.
"I made Rosa angry again."
Vein stayed silent, just watching him.
Johan turned and walked to the door. When he opened it, cold air rushed in at once. The snow outside stretched endlessly, covering everything in white.
He stopped for a moment.
Then he stepped outside.
The door remained slightly open.
Vein didn't move. He sat there, watching Johan's back as it slowly grew smaller in the distance. Step by step, the snow swallowed his footprints.
Johan's figure remained steady. Broad. Unshaken. But… tired.
Not weak. Never weak. Just heavy—the back of a man who had carried too much for too long.
Vein's fingers tightened slightly around his cup. A strange feeling settled in his chest. Not pity. Not fear. Something quieter. Something deeper.
Understanding.
That man… wasn't just a warrior.
He was a father.
And being a father… might be far heavier than any battlefield.
Vein let out a slow breath. He leaned back slightly, his eyes still fixed on the open door. Beyond it stretched an endless white, and within it, a figure walking farther away.
But Johan wasn't alone.
Not really.
Because even now, there were still things anchoring him to this world.
And somewhere beyond all of that—
a memory.
A smile.
A promise.
Vein lowered his gaze.
Then he slowly stood.
"…War, huh…" he muttered.
The word felt different now. Heavier. Not because of enemies—but because of what people might lose.
He glanced once more toward the door.
Then he stepped forward.
Quiet. Steady.
This time, he wasn't just thinking about himself.
---
The forest was quiet.
Snow covered everything. The ground, the trees, the small path she had run through—everything was buried in white.
Rosa sat alone in the snow.
Her shoulders trembled slightly as the cold seeped through her clothes, but she didn't move. She just sat there, hugging her knees, staring at the ground in front of her.
Her breath came out in small, uneven clouds.
For a while—she said nothing.
Then slowly, she reached out.
Her small hand touched the snow.
Cold.
Soft.
She scooped some into her palm and pressed it together, shaping it into a small ball.
Her fingers trembled as she held it.
She stared at it.
Quietly.
For a long time.
"…Mama…"
Her voice was barely a whisper.
The snowball in her hand shook slightly.
"I don't want…" she muttered, her voice breaking.
Her grip tightened.
"I don't want to lose Papa…"
Her eyes lowered.
"…like I lost you."
Silence.
Only the wind answered her.
Her shoulders trembled again.
This time—not from the cold.
The snowball slowly crumbled in her hand.
Falling apart.
Just like something she couldn't hold onto.
Rosa lowered her head.
And quietly—
she began to cry.
Rosa lowered her head, her shoulders trembling as quiet sobs escaped her lips. Tears fell one by one, disappearing into the snow beneath her.
Then—
something warm touched her.
A single arm wrapped gently around her from the side.
Rosa froze.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
"…S-Sister Sylva…?"
Sylva sat beside her, pulling her a little closer with one arm. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were soft.
"What are you doing here…?" Rosa asked quietly.
Sylva let out a small breath.
"I should be the one asking that," she replied.
Rosa looked away.
Her fingers tightened slightly in the snow.
Sylva didn't say anything right away. She just stayed there, letting Rosa lean against her.
The wind passed softly between the trees.
After a moment, Sylva spoke.
"…You made Mr. Johan sad, you know."
Rosa's body stiffened.
She didn't answer.
Sylva's voice remained gentle.
"He didn't say it out loud. But… I could tell."
Rosa lowered her gaze.
Her small hands clenched tighter.
"…I didn't mean to…" she whispered.
Sylva glanced at her.
"I know."
Silence fell between them again.
Snow continued to fall quietly around them.
Rosa lowered her head, her voice small.
"…Sister Sylva…"
Sylva glanced at her.
"Hm?"
"…Am I a bad child?"
For a moment, Sylva said nothing.
Then—
"Yes," she replied calmly.
"You're very naughty. Very stubborn."
Rosa flinched.
Her head lowered even more, her fingers tightening in the snow.
But Sylva continued.
"…But that's what makes you Rosa."
Rosa blinked slightly.
Sylva's gaze softened.
"I'm sure Mr. Johan would never truly be angry at you."
She paused.
"If anything… he'd be angry at himself."
Rosa slowly looked up.
"…Why…?"
Her voice trembled.
"Why is Papa like that…?"
Sylva exhaled softly.
"Because you're Rosa."
She reached out and gently patted her head.
"Mr. Johan's daughter."
Rosa frowned slightly.
"…I don't understand."
Sylva smiled faintly.
She slowly let go of Rosa and stood up, brushing the snow off her clothes.
"You will," she said.
Then she turned her head slightly.
"…Right, Mr. Johan?"
Rosa froze.
Slowly—
she turned as well.
Not far from where she sat—
Johan stood there.
Silent.
Snow rested lightly on his shoulders.
In his hand—
a broken sword.
—
Rosa froze.
Her small body stiffened as she stared at Johan from a distance.
For a moment—
Neither of them moved.
Then—
Rosa turned her head away.
"I don't want to talk," she muttered.
Her voice was small—
but stubborn.
Sylva glanced between them, then quietly stepped back, giving them space.
Snow fell softly around them.
Johan took a step forward.
"…Rosa."
No response.
Her hands clenched tightly in the snow.
"I said I don't want to talk," she repeated, louder this time.
Her shoulders trembled.
"I hate you."
The words came out again—
but weaker than before.
Johan stopped.
For a brief moment, he said nothing.
Then slowly—
he walked closer.
Crunch.
Crunch.
The sound of his footsteps echoed softly in the snow.
Rosa still refused to look at him.
"You always do this… you never listen…"
"…You broke it," she said quietly.
"My favorite sword…"
"And now you want to leave me alone…"
"Like you always did before"
Her voice cracked.
Johan lowered his gaze.
"…Yeah."
That was all he said.
No excuses.
No denial.
Just—
acceptance.
Rosa bit her lip.
"…Then go away," she whispered.
"I don't want to see you."
Silence.
Johan didn't leave.
Instead—
he stepped forward once more.
Then he knelt down in front of her.
Rosa's eyes widened slightly—
but she still didn't look at him directly.
Slowly—
Johan lifted his hand.
In it—
was the broken sword.
He extended it toward her.
Rosa's fingers trembled.
"…Why…?" she whispered.
Johan looked at her.
For the first time—
his eyes weren't sharp.
They were gentle.
"…Because it's yours."
Rosa's breath caught.
Johan spoke again.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As if choosing every word.
"You are Rosa."
His voice was quiet—
but firm.
"Rosa Ravencroft."
Her eyes began to shake.
"My daughter…"
He paused.
"…and Violet's daughter."
Something inside her broke.
"I don't want you to come with me to the battlefield," Johan continued softly.
"I want you to stay here like before."
His hand trembled slightly as he held out the broken sword.
"But that doesn't mean I don't love you."
Rosa's lips trembled.
Her vision blurred.
"I always love you wherever I am," Johan said quietly.
"Like your mother loves you wherever she is."
That was it.
That one sentence—
was enough.
Rosa lunged forward.
"Papa…!"
She crashed into him, her small arms wrapping tightly around his body.
Her face buried into his chest.
And then—
she cried.
Not quietly.
Not holding back.
But loudly.
Broken.
All the feelings she had been holding in spilled out at once.
"I don't want you to go…!" she cried.
"I don't want to be alone again…!"
Johan froze for a second.
Then slowly—
his arms wrapped around her.
Firm.
Protective.
"…I know," he whispered.
His hand gently rested on her head.
"I know."
Rosa clung to him tighter, her small body shaking as her cries echoed through the quiet forest.
Johan closed his eyes.
For a moment—
he said nothing.
He held her… as if this moment might be the last.
Snow continued to fall around them.
Quiet.
Soft.
Cold.
But between them—
there was warmth.