Dark gold hair… among Yihan’s limited circle of acquaintances, only one person matched this trait.

She’d found him this quickly? What did she want? His hand tightened abruptly around the wine glass. Yihan forced calmness, spearing a piece of beef with his fork and chewing deliberately to mask his unease.

In this eerie, silent atmosphere, he put himself in Lia’s shoes. What would he have done, if their roles were reversed?

It was hard to imagine. He knew the depth of Lia’s feelings for him, yet remained ignorant of what he—*the other him*—had done five years ago. According to Carola, they’d sealed Lia away together before vanishing from her life. How had she endured those five years? Had she been conscious? Awake? If she remembered everything… would she hate him?

Her pursuit from the Northern Nations all the way to the Southern Region proved the intensity of her obsession. Nothing good could come of this.

Yihan couldn’t swallow anymore. He lifted his glass and gulped down wine—only to choke, erupting into a fit of coughs.

A hand landed perfectly on his back. Firm but gentle taps, measured and even, eased his breathing without discomfort.

Yihan glanced up, surprised. He managed a strained smile. “Thanks.”

The woman said nothing. She simply lowered her hood.

In that instant, her beauty flooded the tavern like dawn’s first light—stunning, mesmerizing.

Skin like winter frost, pale and flawless. Eyes the deep, tranquil green of polished jade. Lustrous dark-gold hair spilled lazily down her back, longer than he remembered. Her low-cut gown revealed a palm-sized expanse of snow-white skin above full, trembling curves that shifted with every subtle movement.

Yihan held his breath. Five years ago, Lia had been a delicate, pretty girl. Now, she was a breathtaking woman radiating mature allure—a juice-swollen kiwifruit begging to be tasted, promising sweetness with every bite.

It was undeniably Lia. Even silent, those layered bangs and emerald eyes were unmistakable. The shivering child selling matches door-to-door in the frozen wastelands of Soul Valley Town was gone. In her place stood the Crimson Flame Witch—a terror to the Northern Nations, a thorn in the Papal State’s side.

Her presence in Windmill Town boded ill.

Yihan slowly tore his gaze away, heart tangled with uncertainty over what to say first. Thankfully, the waiter arrived. The man stared openly at the stunning woman, placing their dishes down before glancing back repeatedly as he left.

Lia lifted her glass, clinking it lightly against Yihan’s. Her lips curved—not quite a smile, not quite emotionless. “Cheers.”

The words eased something tight in Yihan’s chest. He softened his expression, though his voice remained heavy. “When did you learn to drink?”

“It’s just wine. Nothing special.” Lia took a delicate sip. Dark-gold strands veiled her cheek, revealing a profile of perfect, icy elegance.

He heard the loneliness beneath her calm tone. Even if another man had made those choices five years ago, only one Yihan existed on this continent. He alone had to face the wreckage. He couldn’t walk away.

He pushed the plate of beef toward her. Her own order—just bread and mashed potatoes—suggested she had little coin.

Lia accepted without protest. She forked a slice of beef into her mouth, chewing quietly. Her gaze, deep and distant, held none of the naive warmth he remembered. This calmness was chilling.

By the time the plates were empty, they’d exchanged fewer than ten words.

“Let’s head back,” Yihan said when she made no move to leave. He stood first. Lia followed soundlessly, a shadow at his heels.

Pushing open the tavern door, they found a fine rain drifting down. Distant forest lights glowed with lonely warmth.

Lia took an umbrella from a stand nearby. She opened it, stepping close to shield them both. Raindrops pattered against the taut fabric. Her eyes—clear, bright—were unchanged from their first meeting.

“Going home?” she asked.

Yihan hesitated. What if Carola was there? Bringing the Crimson Flame Witch straight to his doorstep would spark a battle he couldn’t control. And how could he explain another woman living under his roof?

He shook his head, lying smoothly. “Just ate. I need to walk it off.”

Lia gave a soft “Oh.” No suspicion flickered in her eyes. She simply fell half a step behind him.

Like Soul Valley Town, Windmill Town was a settlement carved from the wilderness—though far smaller. Night had drawn families indoors; every window glowed with cozy light. The warmth seeping through those panes made Yihan ache with longing. Nearby, windmills taller than houses turned slowly in the dark, their silhouettes like slumbering giants against the night sky.

Lia’s gaze swept the scene, expression unreadable. The distance between them never wavered—not closer, not farther—precisely measured. Just like old times in Soul Valley Town, when she’d trailed behind him, mimicking his haggling tricks with traveling merchants.

All that warmth was gone now. All those memories, frozen in the past.

Unseen by Yihan, the woman’s eyes narrowed. A flicker of viciousness and malice twisted her flawless features.

Only when they’d left Windmill Town behind did Yihan stop, facing the wild darkness. “Lia,” he said abruptly, “you’ve changed so much.”

She tilted her head, surprised. A self-mocking smile touched her lips. “But you haven’t changed at all.”

*Not your face. Not your nature… No. You* have *changed. I saw it in your eyes when you first spotted me—panic. Guardedness.*

*Heh. So you* do *feel guilt. You never dreamed I’d wake. Never dreamed I’d hunt you across continents. Did you ever regret it? Ever blame yourself in these five years?*

She steadied her churning emotions, fingers tightening on the umbrella handle. Faint, intricate patterns glowed faintly on her slender wrist—a mark of controlled power.

Yihan heard the mockery in her voice. His heart sank. She’d come for revenge. A Witch against an ordinary man—he stood no chance unless he could faint or fall asleep to escape.

*How absurd. Wake up, and suddenly an old friend is your enemy. She tracked you across nations with hidden motives… yet she hasn’t attacked. Hasn’t insulted you. This calm is more terrifying than rage. What does she truly want?*

He missed the girl from Soul Valley Town. Kind-hearted. Pure-smiled. Like the first snow of winter—untouched by the world’s grime. Compared to her, this Lia was a gathering blizzard. The calmer the surface, the fiercer the storm beneath.

He drew a deep breath, steeling himself. Turning fully, he met her eyes, body tense. “If you hate me… take it out on me. Leave the townsfolk alone. They’re innocent.”

Lia blinked, genuinely startled. “*That’s* why you led me out here?”

Then she laughed—a soft, fox-like sound of triumph. Her brows lifted, smile turning warm. “You misunderstand. I don’t hate you. I just… needed to find you. To see you.”

Her hand rose, fingertips brushing his cheek—soft, smooth. She leaned in until their breaths mingled, close enough to kiss.

Her eyes grew hazy, drunk with longing. A dreamy whisper escaped her lips: “For five years, I’ve thought of nothing but seeing you again. Through endless darkness, I waited… and waited. At last, I’m free. At last… I found you.”

She threw her arms around him, crushing him against her with desperate strength—as if trying to shatter him and fuse his very being into her own.