The sky is shrouded in dark clouds.
In a tranquil valley, beside a winding stream, a long-haired woman stands silently.
Her eyes are dim, motionless as she gazes at the flowing water.
It is a complex temperament.
Her white gown, surpassing the snow, complements her solitary, cold demeanor.
Her desolate expression carries a broken beauty, a single glance evokes deep pity.
In the woods behind the woman, there are two more people dressed in black.
The black-clad man among them watches her with eyes as greedy as a wolf, fixated on the woman by the river.
The gaze of the black-clad woman is hardly better.
She leans against a large tree, idly playing with a dagger, full of unrestrained jealousy.
The jealousy is so maddening it worries that she might erupt in rage, driving the dagger fiercely into the back of the white-clad woman's head.
And the white-clad woman...
Seems to ignore the intense gaze behind her.
Perhaps, she has grown accustomed to it.
