Time trickled away bit by bit.
The years cycled on.
Roy, once young, had become an old woman with silver hair, and her familiar friends had passed away one after another.
Dora passed away in a spring full of brilliant sunshine, mourned by countless people as a legend of Valtorre, remembering her illustrious lifetime achievements.
Emma and Verona remained unmarried throughout their lives, supporting each other till they both succumbed to illness.
Rocky, who was also unmarried, foresaw the decline of his life one snowy morning; he draped a blanket over the sleeping Roy and slipped a simple silver ring engraved with two similar names onto her withered ring finger.
When Roy woke up, she couldn't find any trace of her brother anywhere. It was finally the maid who found him—the elegant and self-disciplined old man, quietly sitting in a wicker chair in the courtyard, covered in a thick layer of snow. In his clasped palms, there was a snow rabbit that hadn't melted.
