In the middle of an endless snowfield, where a blizzard raged, the city of 'Frost' stood tall like the last lighthouse left behind.
The massive steam tower rising at the center of the city soared high, as if piercing the gray sky, surrounded by buildings made of brass and steel, packed densely together.
The chairman, his hair graying like snow, stood leaning against the railing of a tall building, looking down at the city.
The cold-weather gear he wore over his worn-out suit barely managed to shield him from the biting chill.
The chairman let out a deep sigh.
His breath turned into a white mist in the cold air and vanished.
“I just can’t see the answer.”
Fatigue and despair mixed in his voice.
It felt as though he were walking in endless darkness, weighed down by a sense of helplessness.
Frost had survived this far purely because of luck.
The chairman knew this better than anyone.
If soone were to make a movie about the history of Frost, or even the chairman’s own life story, it would seem overly contrived and unrealistic.
But that was the reality.
The global chaos caused by the Object phenonon, followed by a sudden drop in temperatures in the polar regions.
The land the chairman lived on had beco covered in endless snowfields, turning it into a death zone where humans could no longer survive.
“The Moon of the Snowfield” had wiped out all of humanity in the polar regions.
Yet miraculously, the place where the chairman’s group of survivors had settled was one of the few safe zones unaffected by "The Moon of the Snowfield."
That was the first stroke of luck.
When their fuel reserves were about to run out, they stumbled upon an abandoned oil drilling facility.
They made camp there and laid the foundations for the city.
That was the second stroke of luck.
What was even more surprising was that, by chance, many of the technicians in the chairman's group had the relevant expertise.
Without their knowledge and skills, Frost would never have beco what it was today.
That was the third stroke of luck.
As they began to feel the limitations of oil alone, they stumbled upon an Object known as "Blue Coal."
This special fuel source breathed new life into Frost.
That was the fourth stroke of luck.
When an unknown Object phenonon began damaging the internal combustion engines, the chairman again stumbled upon an Object known as the "chanical Heart."
Using this Object, they constructed a massive steam tower in the city and breathed life back into the city’s machines.
That was the fifth stroke of luck.
The chairman bitterly smiled as he reflected on all of this.
Frost had survived until now through a series of coincidences and luck.
But now, that luck had run out.
Looking up at the sky, the chairman saw black smoke staining the sky a dark gray.
The sky over Frost was always a deep ash gray.
But today, that ash gray felt even heavier.
The chairman let out another deep sigh as he gazed out the window at the desolate landscape.
“It’s all my lack of ability.”
His voice was laced with deep self-mockery and resignation.
What was once considered luck that saved Frost was now slowly eroding the city.
Ironically, the very foundation of the city’s creation was now hastening its downfall.
This place, which had once avoided “The Moon of the Snowfield,” was now effectively isolated from the world.
Because of “The Moon of the Snowfield,” communication was impossible.
The oil technicians, once considered the saviors of the city, were now the city’s lawmakers, wielding power.
They had blocked the chairman's sight and ears, cutting off communication with the outside world.
Pursuing only their own interests, they wasted the city’s resources and pushed through unnecessary policies.
The chairman’s authority had long been reduced to a re formality.
The discovery of Blue Coal, once considered a blessing, had now beco a curse.
The city's residents were trapped in a never-ending cycle of labor, forced into the mines just to survive.
The chanical Heart, the lifeblood of the city, was also a shackle.
Relying on this Object, Frost could no longer dream of improvent or expansion.
The city had stagnated, and stagnation was synonymous with decay.
The chairman turned his head and gazed at the reports lying on his desk with heavy eyes.
The temperature around the city was dropping day by day.
While the production of fuel was sufficient, the consumption rate was increasing faster.
At this rate, it was clear that an energy shortage crisis would soon strike.
And the greatest threat was approaching.
According to the latest report from the observation team, a massive blizzard of unprecedented scale was heading toward Frost.
If this storm hit the city, Frost would once again face a trial.
A terrifying trial was coming.
But even as he tried to prepare, the lawmakers, whom he should have been leading, seed completely oblivious to this existential crisis.
More production, more exploitation, more luxury, more power.
These were the only things on their minds.
In fact, after “The Moon of the Snowfield” disappeared, it was discovered that they had been burning Blue Coal—essentially the life force of the city’s residents—in illegal trade.
Ironically, the chairman only then realized that “The Moon of the Snowfield” had disappeared.
“It was really absurd…”
The landscape of the city, visible beyond the railing, still appeared grand.
The smoke billowing from the massive steam tower, the buildings full of light, the people bustling around.
But to the chairman’s eyes, all of it seed like a prison.
In his hands, the chairman held a note he had secretly requested an investigation into from the lawmakers.
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