She wasn't searching for happiness.
She didn't even believe it existed.
What she wanted—no, needed—was something that could spark her mind.
That fleeting flutter in the chest.
That sharp flicker in the brain.
That hidden surge that whispered: You're still alive.
Even if just for a moment.
She was willing to do anything for that moment.
Anything to feel something.
She tried it all.
Inventions that defied the laws of physics.
Experiments that bent reality and identity.
Dangerous mental games no one else dared to play.
Even putting her body at risk.
And when she had tried everything—
When she'd tasted it all—
Nothing remained.
Nothing was new.
Everything became predictable. Repetitive. Empty.
People? Easy to fool.
Money? She had enough to buy a city.
Power? She built it with her own hands.
And then… she stopped.
She locked herself away in a lavish, dark mansion on the edge of the city—
A place no one dared approach.
Curtains black as ink.
Furniture pale as her thoughts.
Windows sealed to the world.
No visitors.
No one who missed her.
Time passed.
Days blurred.
Faces came and went.
But she remained the same.
A body that moved.
A brain that functioned.
A heart that... didn't.
Sometimes she smiled just to remember what it felt like.
Other times, she forced herself to cry, just to check if she still could.
And then—
By chance—
While browsing a forbidden site, she saw it.
A strange film title:
"The Winter's Vow."
Curious, she clicked.
She watched.
And everything began to change.
There was no narrator.
No explanation.
Just people—living, speaking, moving—
As if she was spying on a life she wasn't supposed to see.
Long, slow scenes.
Sparse dialogue.
Characters so mysterious it made her skin crawl.
It was about a runaway princess who fell in love with the crown prince of another kingdom.
But she didn't care about that.
Only one person drew her in:
Rhain.
A side character.
A quiet young man who worked at an old library.
He cleaned tables.
Read books.
Helped visitors with a soft smile.
Then disappeared each evening down the back alley.
He was painfully ordinary.
Unbearably so.
Yet she couldn't stop watching.
Sometimes, he'd pause and glance around, like he sensed something.
He never said much.
Never did anything grand.
But somehow, after every episode… she'd hit "Next."
She didn't love him.
She didn't even know him.
But something about him made her feel.
Something sincere—so sincere it was terrifying.
In her fake world, that felt like a miracle.
She started to imagine him.
To analyze him.
To wonder what he was thinking, what he was hiding, what he really wanted.
She rewatched the scenes—
Just to see his face.
How he smiled.
How he frowned.
How he looked at people.
And then… the end.
A quiet sacrifice.
Rhain died.
No glory.
No honor.
No one cared.
No one understood.
His story ended.
Just like that.
She stared at the screen, then at her reflection in the black glass.
And she thought:
"That's it? Someone like him... gone?"
But what she felt…
Wasn't sadness.
It wasn't love.
It was obsession.
She had to know more.
She had to change the ending.
She had to save him.
For the first time in years—
She wanted to do something for someone else.
Even if he never knew her.
Even if he never saw her.