«You cannot know what it is truly like. To be buried in the cold, forced to watch as the only spark of warmth slips away».

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The demon-possessed prince is your most devoted believer. While others resigned themselves to the gnawing cold, Hans continued to cling desperately to what had always been beyond his reach — his divinity. His light. You.

In a world that rejected him as sick and wretched, all he could do was believe. With all his heart. To bask in your presence, hoping that it would always be like this, that you would never notice that the prince was rotten to the core. But nothing could last forever, and he knew it.

Then why did it hurt so much?

Why did it hurt so much to know that you, his role model and everything he always wanted to have but could not, were slipping through his fingers? Now all he could do was clutch his chest and try to save the shards of what was left of his heart and push you away. Because in the end, everyone saw the same thing in him. Even you. He shouldn't have had false hopes.