“Grandpa! Tell us an old story!”

  Against the snow-covered window,

  the grandchildren threw their arms wide and shouted.

  The old man smiled quietly

  and pulled out an aged book set beside the hearth.

  As his fingertips turned the pages,

  a warm stillness settled over the room.

  “Once upon a time,

  on the day the first snow fell, a tiny star dropped from the sky···”

  Words light as snowflakes

  flowed softly along the glow of the fire.

  That star stayed buried in cold snow,

  until a boy passing by found it.

  The star was, in truth··· a dragon.

  A being with red scales and gentle, warm eyes.

  They watched each other warily, but

  the boy climbed the mountain every day.

  A piece of bread,

  a little milk,

  and small stories in his hands.

  The dragon never spoke, but

  it listened, ate the apples he brought,

  and sometimes flicked its tail—almost like it was laughing.

  “Could you··· be my friend?”

  The boy asked,

  and the dragon gave a tiny nod.

  Their days piled up like snow,

  and their friendship stayed quiet as wind.

  But people feared the dragon.

  Some tried to harm it,

  and some··· treasured it too much.

  They believed the red scales could become sturdy cloth,

  and its breath could be medicine that cured any illness.

  The boy tried to protect the dragon, but···

  his voice never reached them.

  In the end, the dragon flew very far away,

  beyond the sky.

  After that day,

  every year when the first snow fell,

  the boy looked up at the heavens.

  “Maybe··· you’ll come back?”

  And after a very long time passed,

  a story spread that a red light had fallen from the sky once more.

  Was it something that truly happened?

  Or just a small wish someone held deep in their heart···

  “Ugh, that story again!”

  Before the book even closed,

  one child puffed out their cheeks and complained.

  “How many times is that now?

  Grandpa, we’ve heard it since we were little!”

  “Yeah!

  Red dragon! Tears! Gemstones!

  We can recite it all by now!”

  The others piled in, grumbling.

  One crossed his arms and shook his head,

  another slapped his knee in protest.

  And yet—even while complaining—

  their eyes stayed fixed on the book.

  The old man chuckled, shoulders bouncing.

  “Hoh-hoh. Thought you were all grown up···

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  but you still perk your ears up for this one.”

  Then the youngest grandchild,

  hesitating, spoke in a small voice.

  “···But I think it was real.”

  “Hm?”

  The old man turned his head.

  “The dragon.

  Really··· it might still be alive somewhere.”

  The playful laughter stopped as if it had never been there.

  The room fell silent again,

  and the old man stared into the fire, murmuring softly.

  “···I hope so.”

  ◇

  The snowfall was thickening.

  Over snow piled to their ankles,

  Rynel’s group left a careful trail of footprints.

  “Ah, we would’ve been fine if we’d set out earlier.”

  Monero tilted his chin up at the sky.

  “Of all times, we arrive right before it gets worse.”

  “We did leave a bit late.”

  Rynel answered shortly.

  “I mean, we hurried as best we could.

  But··· yeah. It really was down to the last moment.”

  Ahead, Aira was breathing hard.

  Her cheeks were flushed red, sweat beading on her forehead.

  “It’s fine. We’re almost there, right? The village.”

  She forced a smile.

  “Aira.”

  Rynel stopped.

  “Look at your face. Your breathing’s off, and you were stumbling.”

  “I told you I’m fine.

  I can still walk.”

  “If you push it, you’ll just make it worse.

  We need somewhere to rest.”

  Aira pressed her lips together.

  Monero glanced over.

  “Aira, are you seriously sick?

  You look like you’ve got a fever··· or is it altitude sickness?”

  “···No. I’m just cold, and a little dizzy.”

  That was when, far ahead,

  a single chimney with smoke rising came into view.

  “Over there··· is that the village?”

  Monero shaded his eyes.

  “Looks like it. People live there.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Rynel moved first.

  An old man stacking firewood by a shed

  lifted his head and looked past the snowdrifts.

  “Good grief, in weather like this··· who’s walking the road?”

  He leaned on his cane and approached slowly.

  Seeing strangers, his brows pinched slightly.

  “Travelers, huh.

  Hardly anyone passes through this time of year···”

  Rynel dipped his head.

  “We were crossing the mountain range.

  The snow came earlier than we expected.”

  From behind, Monero added,

  “Left late and got caught.

  Seriously, it was that close.”

  The old man’s gaze went to Aira.

  Her nose was bright red, her lips dry.

  “···Is that girl alright?”

  “She has a fever.”

  Rynel answered simply.

  “Hm.”

  The old man studied them for a long moment,

  then spoke in a low, quiet voice.

  “This village, you see···

  we don’t usually let outsiders in.

  Especially when the snow piles up deep like this.”

  He lowered his eyes to the white ground for a moment.

  A strange hesitation hovered at the corner of his mouth.

  “People who come through the snow···

  often bring trouble more than anything good.”

  For a while, only the wind brushed their ears.

  Then the old man nodded.

  “···Still. Looking at that child’s face, I can’t just send you away.”

  He tapped his cane on the ground once.

  “My house isn’t far.

  Come warm yourselves for a bit.

  There’s hot water, and I’ve got some porridge left.”

  Monero let out a breath of relief.

  “Really··· thank you.

  We were worried about her.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Rynel said, supporting Aira.

  The old man stepped ahead,

  breaking a path through the snow.

  ◇

  The room’s air settled into a warm hush.

  By the hearth, Monero had pulled on thick socks

  and stretched his legs out.

  Aira lay under a blanket, breathing quietly.

  “Porridge··· would you like more?”

  A small voice.

  The youngest grandchild came over holding a bowl

  and sat down gently beside Aira.

  “Thanks··· I’m okay. I feel a lot better.”

  On the surface of the porridge, round slices of carrot floated softly,

  and between them was the careful feeling of a small hand.

  Aira lifted her spoon slowly

  and smiled with care.

  “You’re really considerate.”

  Rynel smiled faintly.

  “Where did you learn that?”

  “Grandpa!”

  The child answered, eyes shining.

  “He said warm food is the best when you’ve got a cold!”

  “This one’s Kiriem.”

  Another child, sitting quietly nearby, spoke carefully.

  “And··· I’m the older brother, Minuem.”

  “Is that so?”

  Rynel nodded.

  “Thank you. You two made things much easier for Aira.”

  Kiriem blushed,

  smiled a little, then ducked his head.

  Rynel stood by the window.

  Beyond the glass, snow kept sweeping down without pause.

  “It’s very quiet.”

  At that, the old man nodded slowly.

  “When winter comes···

  snow speaks before people do.”

  “Snow speaks?”

  Rynel lifted an eyebrow.

  “Quiet doesn’t mean nothing is being said.

  It’s just that too many stories are pressed down—

  so it looks like there are no words at all.”

  The old man smiled gently as he watched outside.

  “This village···

  it has a lot of stories like that, piled up.”

  Rynel said nothing.

  His eyes drifted to the bracelet on his wrist.

  The red gem held a faint glow.

  When evening came, the children wrapped themselves in white cloth

  and turned the center of the living room into a stage.

  “I am a dragon that flies through the sky—aaaah!”

  “And I’m the brave human knight, Solei!”

  “I’ll protect the dragon’s tears!”

  The youngest roared, wagging a paper tail—

  only for it to slip off and roll across the floor.

  “Hey, your tail fell off!”

  “No, I’m transforming right now!”

  The noise was lively,

  and even Aira let out a small laugh.

  Monero crossed his arms.

  “At this point··· yeah.

  Staying here was the right call.”

  Rynel gave a small nod.

  His gaze drifted to the desk.

  An old storybook.

  On the cover, a red dragon flying through the sky

  was stamped in gold.

  “That book···”

  The old man said, lifting it carefully.

  “It’s a tale about the legend of a dragon that once came down to this village.”

  The children rushed in around the book.

  “That story again?”

  “Grandpa, you tell it all the time!”

  “Yes. The one I tell all the time.”

  The old man smiled and opened the pages.

  Rynel watched quietly,

  then looked out at the snow again.

  The blizzard still showed no sign of easing.

  “The snowfall is rough this season.”

  Rynel said, and the old man nodded.

  “The first cold wave of early winter is always vicious.

  That’s why this village sees almost no visitors around now.”

  He took a short breath, then continued.

  “But every once in a while, strangers do come.”

  “Sometimes?”

  “Because of the legend.”

  The old man smiled softly.

  “The story that a dragon who came down from the sky

  will visit the village in human form.”

  He lowered his voice a little more.

  “Especially on the day of the first snow—

  once rumors spread that meeting that dragon would bring great wealth,

  people started coming now and then, chasing the tale.”

  Rynel lifted his brow slightly.

  “Do you really··· believe that?”

  “Belief isn’t the important part.”

  The old man’s gaze stayed somewhere beyond the window.

  “It’s just that the waiting—

  this village has always had that kind of heart.”

  Then the children came pouring out of the room.

  “Grandpa, Grandpa!”

  Minuem pointed at Rynel.

  “Could it be··· is that mister a dragon?!”

  “No way. Really? A real dragon?”

  Kiriem stared up at Rynel too, eyes full of wonder.

  The old man laughed.

  “No. A dragon is a far more magnificent being.”

  “Aww··· that’s too bad.”

  The children drooped in disappointment.

  Seeing it, Rynel gave a wry smile.

  Then Kiriem asked carefully,

  “Then··· what’s that bracelet?”

  “Is it a dragon’s tear? It looks like the one in the book!”

  The old man smiled faintly and shook his head.

  “Hm. The color is similar, but···

  it’s a little different from the tears in the legend.”

  The children lowered their heads again, a bit disappointed,

  and the old man gently patted their hair.

  “That’s right.

  Imagining and waiting—

  that’s the children’s part in this village.”

  In the brief quiet,

  Kiriem suddenly asked,

  “Then··· what do you all do?”

  Monero snorted with a smile.

  “We’re adventurers.”

  “Adventurers? For real?!”

  The kids reacted at once.

  “Our grandpa used to be an adventurer too!”

  “Really?”

  Rynel looked at the old man, surprised.

  The old man cleared his throat lightly and smiled.

  “A long time ago.

  Now I prefer living peacefully with my grandchildren.”

  His mouth was smiling,

  but something distant flickered in his eyes.

  In a very low voice, he said,

  “···Still. Sometimes I miss those days.”

  A quiet pause passed.

  Then the old man rubbed his chin and spoke.

  “Though, with more people here, we might be short on firewood.

  Sorry to ask, but if you have time—could you gather a little from deeper in the forest?”

  Rynel nodded without hesitation.

  “Of course. We’ll go.”

  The old man smiled, grateful.

  “No need to go far.

  We cleared the snow from the village to the forest edge.

  If you just follow the path, you shouldn’t have any trouble.”

  “Yes. Don’t worry.”

  Monero stood and rolled his shoulder once.

  “Perfect. I was itching to stretch anyway.”

  Just then, the storybook on the desk

  lay open on its own.

  A red dragon flying through the sky

  glimmered faintly gold in the shadows.

  As if an old legend

  were lifting its head again—right now.