The Snow That Dances Through Summer Nights（2）

"Fabiana, there's no need to put on a show of loyalty to the Federation—not in front of me."

Tarin brushed the snow from his shoulder, his tone gentle, but each word cut like a dull knife—slow and deliberate, peeling back the old wounds that had long since scarred, yet never truly healed.

"I've known your little tricks for years.You might fool General Kaelen—but not me.

Compared to Zarik and his reckless, all-consuming nationalism, you… you're the seasoned fox. Much more composed."

Fabiana didn't respond immediately.

She merely tilted her head back, letting the wind and snow lash against her face—

as if trying to let the vastness of the storm conceal the turmoil rising in her heart.

Snowflakes poured from the night sky in a slanting cascade, settling on her lashes.

They melted into droplets—then slid down the curve of her cheek, carried away by the warmth at the corners of her eyes…disappearing into the wind, leaving nothing behind.

The chill seeped in from the soles of their military boots, creeping into the bone.

Standing in the wind, the two officers said nothing—letting the silence deepen the cold between them.

Though it was summer, the sky above remained shrouded in heavy gloom.

Dark clouds lingered endlessly over Aeganien I, refusing to lift—not just from the sky, but from the future of the entire Federation.

Fabiana gazed quietly at the dusky sky, the things she had never said rising like mist into the wind—dissolving into the frozen air.

She no longer explained.She no longer pretended.Some words no longer needed to be spoken.They both understood.

"Come on, Fabiana," Tarin finally said, turning his gaze away.

"Let's get a drink."

His voice had lost the sharpness from before, replaced now with a weary softness.

"It's been a long time."

He tried to slip back into that familiar tone, casual and light.

Resting a hand on Fabiana's shoulder, he turned as if to walk back with her—just like they used to in their academy days.

But Fabiana simply lifted her hand and gently brushed his away.The motion was so light, it didn't feel like rejection—more like a quiet reminder.

"Tarin," she said softly, her gaze unwavering,"We should go see her child."

"It's been three years. We've fallen far short of the promise we made to her."

She didn't spare a glance for the loneliness that briefly flashed across her friend's face as her touch slipped away.

"Yuina's child?" Tarin murmured.

"Over the past three years, aside from me, none of you even made the effort. One by one, you all broke that promise."

His words weren't accusatory—more self-mocking than anything.

He knew.

They had all once sworn to protect that child.But in the end, each of them had been defeated—by themselves.

He lowered his head and walked to the car, opening the door in silence.Turning back, he offered Fabiana a small, bitter smile.

"Hard to believe, isn't it? There used to be five of us.And now... one of us is gone forever."

The engine started.Outside the window, night and snow swept past in layers—

like heavy curtains, slowly falling.

"If it weren't for what happened back then...we wouldn't have lost her.We wouldn't be forced to remember—year after year—that someone we cared about is gone, forever."

Fabiana leaned against the window, her fingertip resting lightly on the frost-cold glass.She watched in silence as the snow-covered road signs slipped past—

just like all the unspoken farewells they never had the chance to say.

The already somber atmosphere inside the vehicle fell completely silent.Her words not only choked off anything more that might have been said,but also summoned forth the full weight of memory—of the one they had lost.

The tragedy that took place three years ago on Elaris had claimed far more than just the memory of Yuina—more than just the brightest fragments of the past shared by the two now sitting in this car.

It had taken hundreds of thousands of innocent lives.

And ever since, the cries of those lost souls had echoed endlessly beneath the once-azure skies of Elaris.

"Azure Emerald has been gone for three years now," Fabiana said at last,her voice low, her face marked by a quiet, lingering sorrow.

She turned her head to gaze out the window at the snow-covered plains rushing past.

Thick layers of snowfall blanketed the land outside—everything on the plain had been swallowed by the snow, its outlines erased, its traces vanished without a sound.

Tarin glanced sideways at Fabiana, catching the expression on her face.The bitterness at the corners of his mouth deepened.

His friend—so composed, so beautiful—was now entirely enveloped by loneliness and sorrow.

After all this time, the pain from that day still remained etched in her heart.The loss of that person had left a wound so deep,even now, just remembering it could tear her apart.

His fingers trembled slightly on the steering wheel.

"Even if she were still alive... you never really had a chance," he said, his voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the sound of falling snow.

"You're a woman. And what she needed—was a man who could make her feel safe."

Tarin stared straight ahead.

The icy road kept his hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel, and sweat from tension streamed down his forehead, refusing to stop.

"What's more... she had Dorin's child.Even if they never married, do you really think you ever stood a chance?"

And yet, despite everything—despite the unspoken shifts in loyalty, despite the passage of years and the distance that had grown between them—he still tried to offer her something that resembled comfort.

A friend's voice, even if that friendship no longer stood where it once did.

Fabiana bit her lower lip.

She didn't argue.Instead, with a look of pain so sharp she seemed on the verge of tears, she pulled a cigarette case from her coat pocket and lit a slim cigarette.

Her fingers trembled slightly, but with stubborn determination, she pressed the cigarette between her lips.

She didn't smoke much—but it was as if all her breath, all her anger, was being burned away in that faint, flickering glow.

Tarin coughed harshly, twice.He looked like he wanted to say something… but in the end, he only sighed and fell silent.

"I've never seen you like this," the old friend muttered bitterly.

It earned him nothing but a more bitter, more helpless smile from Fabiana.

Inside the heavy, suffocating silence that hung over them, the car kept moving forward along the highway—until the outline of the city began to emerge faintly on the horizon.

The woman with the cigarette stared into the distance as it came slowly into view.

A growing haze of uncertainty clouded her eyes,and the darkness on her face turned raw and fragile,like a sorrow she could no longer hide.

"Don't be so tense," Tarin said softly.

"We'll have to face it sooner or later."

He reached for his phone and turned it on.

"Remember—this is our promise."

After a short pause, a heavy voice came through the other end.

"...Hello."

It was hoarse, aged, and soaked in exhaustion—like a voice drained by three years of silence and grief.A voice hollowed out by time.

The moment Tarin heard it, a flicker of shock and guilt crossed his face.He said little—just a few polite greetings—and quickly ended the call, dropping the phone into the center console.

"Dorin's back."

Tarin gazed down the highway, eyes fixed on the road ahead, and let out a long sigh steeped in guilt.

The sound was like a stone dropped into Fabiana's still, heavy heart—its ripples impossible to ignore.

Her fingers suddenly clenched around the cigarette.Ash crumbled onto her coat, but she didn't seem to notice.She closed her eyes, as if willing back the tide threatening to overwhelm her.She had seen that scarred face in her dreams more than once.

Now, she would have to face him for real.

The woman he loved was gone—and that pain alone had nearly destroyed him.

But what Fabiana had to face now... was the man that woman had trusted, had leaned on.

And that was a pain unlike anything she had ever known.

The car wound its way slowly along the narrow lanes flanking the city's wide central roads, taking turn after turn—until it came to a stop in front of a small, crumbling house,tucked beneath the looming luxury of concrete and steel,enshrouded in filth and shadow,forgotten by the civilized world.

"Fabiana, if Dorin says something out of line… don't take it to heart."

Tarin opened the car door, then paused, turning back to catch hold of his friend's sleeve.His expression was heavy, his voice firm.

"He sacrificed more than any of us for what happened.

At the very least, we still had our honors these past three years—but he spent them in prison, burning away what was left of his youth and his future."

Fabiana met his gaze, holding it for a long moment.Then she let out a quiet, weary sigh.

"I promise you—for her sake,I won't make things harder for Dorin."

Relieved by his friend's agreement, Tarin exhaled softly.They stepped out of the car and stood before the wooden door—once familiar, now so weathered and worn it was barely recognizable.

Neither of them moved to knock.Because behind that door lay not just the person they dreaded to face—but the sorrowful memories they had never truly forgotten… yet could never bring themselves to recall.

"I'll do it."

Not wanting to see his friend frozen by memories she couldn't yet confront, Tarin gently nudged her aside.

He placed his right hand against the wood—a door now covered not just in dust, but in everything they had tried, and failed, to leave behind.

This time, his knock came slower than ever before.

As though he were knocking not on a door—but on memory itself.

And memory…is often more terrifying than reality.