The cave remained painfully quiet.
Snow continued falling outside while cold wind brushed softly against the entrance.
Xue Linyuan still knelt before her.
Silver eyes fixed on her face.
Waiting.
Hoping.
But Bai Xueyin could only stare back in confusion.
“…I’m sorry,” she whispered softly.
“I really don’t know you.”
The words felt cruel the moment they left her mouth.
Because the expression in his eyes dimmed slightly.
Not dramatic.
Not angry.
Just quiet disappointment.
As if he had already expected this answer… yet still hoped for something different.
The snow leopard twins looked between them silently.
Bai Yan frowned.
“…Mother really forgot.”
Even Bai Chen lowered his gaze quietly.
Xueyin felt strangely guilty.
But she truly didn’t understand why everyone kept acting like she had forgotten an important past.
Because from her perspective—
Her memories were perfectly normal.
She remembered:
her exhausting modern life,
dying at her office,
reading the beastworld novel,
and waking up here.
Everything before waking in this cave felt clear.
Which meant…
The missing memories belonged to the original Bai Xueyin.
Not her.
The realization made her chest tighten.
This body had another life before she arrived.
Another love.
Another past.
And apparently—
Another relationship with this terrifyingly beautiful snow leopard prince.
Xueyin unconsciously glanced at him again.
He was still watching her silently.
Cold silver hair falling across his shoulders.
Frost lingering around him naturally.
Even kneeling, his presence remained overwhelming.
Dangerous.
Lonely.
For some reason, the loneliness bothered her most.
“…You knew the original Bai Xueyin,” she said carefully.
The moment those words left her mouth—
The atmosphere changed.
The cubs looked confused.
But Xue Linyuan’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Original?” he repeated quietly.
Oops.
Xueyin nearly bit her tongue.
Right.
Normal people here wouldn’t understand transmigration.
She quickly corrected herself.
“I mean… before I lost my memories.”
The prince stared at her for a long moment.
Too long.
As if trying to see through her completely.
Then finally—
“…You changed.”
Her heart skipped.
Did he notice?
Xueyin forced herself to stay calm.
“What do you mean?”
Xue Linyuan’s gaze remained steady.
“The Xueyin I knew never looked at me with such caution.”
The cave fell silent.
Even the cubs seemed to sense something strange.
Xueyin’s fingers tightened around the blanket unconsciously.
Could he tell this wasn’t truly the same person?
But before panic could grow—
The red panda cub suddenly climbed into her arms dramatically.
“Mama only needs us!”
Bai Shuyi glared suspiciously at Xue Linyuan.
“You make Mama sad.”
The little snake cub immediately nodded.
“Mama stay here forever.”
The heavy atmosphere cracked slightly.
Even Bai Qingluo sighed helplessly.
“You two…”
For the first time since arriving—
A faint softness appeared in Xue Linyuan’s cold expression.
His gaze moved toward the cubs quietly.
Especially the twins.
He still looked stunned whenever seeing them.
As if their existence alone shattered everything he believed possible.
Then his eyes slowly returned to Xueyin again.
“…Do your headaches happen often?”
His voice became gentler this time.
Xueyin hesitated before nodding.
“Sometimes fragments appear.”
Not complete memories.
Only feelings.
Warmth.
Snow.
A deep hoarse voice near her ear.
But never faces.
Never names.
And strangely—
The emotions inside those fragments felt more painful than the images themselves.
Xue Linyuan’s fingers curled slightly at his side.
“…Don’t force yourself,” he murmured.
Xueyin blinked.
She expected pressure.
Questions.
Demanding answers.
But instead—
He looked more worried about her pain than recovering his memories with her.
That somehow made things worse.
Because now she truly felt like she had stolen someone else’s life.
Then suddenly—
Bai Chen quietly stepped closer to Xue Linyuan.
The entire cave froze.
The calm twin looked up silently at the prince.
Studying him carefully.
Then after a long pause, he asked softly:
“…Are you really our father?”
Xue Linyuan went completely still.
The question was simple.
But the emotion hidden underneath it wasn’t.
Because despite their calmness—
The twins had grown up without one.