After returning to the second floor of her tower, Arya immediately felt something was wrong.
A sharp chill brushed against her skin, making her pause mid-step.
For a moment, she wondered if she had entered the wrong room. Frowning, Arya slowly scanned her surroundings, her eyes darting around in confusion. Everything looked the same as before—no unfamiliar furniture, no strange layout changes—yet the cold was unmistakable.
Uneasy, she quickly turned around and went back down to the first floor.
However, to her surprise, by the time she reached the bottom, the first floor had also grown noticeably colder.
"What's going on?" Arya muttered.
She felt a knot of unease tighten in her chest.
The second month's magic turbulence was about to arrive. Under normal circumstances, that alone was enough to make anyone tense. If anything unexpected happened on top of that, she might not even get a chance to sleep tonight—if she survived at all.
With that thought in mind, Arya gave up entirely on the idea of resting.
She went straight to the storage room, rummaging through the piles of supplies she had accumulated over time. After a bit of searching, she found some thick clothes she had acquired earlier. She pulled them on layer by layer, wrapping herself tightly, before heading back out and sitting down at her magic desk.
The magic lantern cast a warm glow over the room, but it did little to chase away the creeping cold.
Arya folded her arms and stared at the clock, waiting for midnight—the official arrival of the magic turbulence.
"It's coming. It's definitely coming," she murmured.
"Even though this is already the second time… and I know what's supposed to happen… why do I still feel so nervous?"
She let out a dry laugh.
"Nervous my ass."
To distract herself, Arya opened the regional chat channel. Almost immediately, messages flooded her vision.
"Do you guys feel like the temperature's dropping?"
"Yeah… it's a bit cold."
"It's night. Isn't it normal for it to be colder at night? Haven't you people ever gone outside after sunset?"
"No, this feels different. This temperature drop isn't right."
"I agree. Something's off."
Then a message appeared that made Arya's breath hitch.
"Holy crap, it's starting to snow outside!"
"What?!"
Not just the others—Arya herself froze when she saw that line.
Snow?
During the day, the temperature had been perfectly comfortable. Not too hot, not too cold—around the low twenties in Celsius, if she had to guess. That kind of weather had absolutely no business producing snow at night.
How could it possibly be snowing?
Doubt gnawed at her as Arya stood up and walked toward the window. Outside, it was pitch-black. Under the reflection of the magic lantern, the glass looked more like a mirror than a window.
She couldn't see anything.
With no other choice, Arya floated slightly upward and pushed the window open.
A blast of icy wind rushed inside instantly, carrying with it tiny white flakes that danced wildly in the lantern's light.
Snowflakes.
Real snow.
Arya stared at them in stunned silence.
"Ugh…"
There was no excitement. No thrill. Just an uncontrollable shiver that ran through her entire body. She slammed the window shut almost immediately, teeth chattering.
Although she had never seen real snow before coming to this world, she understood the concept of cold all too well.
"These clothes aren't going to be enough," she muttered.
Hugging her arms tightly around herself, Arya returned to the storage room. At the moment, she was only wearing a long-sleeved shirt beneath her outer layers—completely inadequate for this kind of temperature.
Fortunately, she had been thorough during her earlier scavenging and trading. Buried among the supplies were thick Northeastern-style padded jackets, as well as heavy military greatcoats.
After some trial and error, she managed to put together two full sets of padded clothing.
She even found several thick cotton quilts.
Looking at them, Arya blinked in surprise.
"When did I even get these?" she muttered.
After thinking for a moment, she shrugged.
"Probably during one of those crazy shopping sprees."
Carrying the fluffy cotton quilts, Arya floated back up to the second floor. She spread them neatly across the bed and lay down, wrapping herself tightly in their warmth.
Even so, as time passed, the temperature outside continued to drop.
The cold seemed to seep through the walls, through the quilts, and straight into her bones.
Something still felt missing.
"If only I had chosen a fireplace during the shelter upgrade," Arya sighed quietly.
Lying there beneath the thick quilts, she recalled the fireplace option she had once seen when upgrading her tower. Back then, she had hesitated. She knew the world's climate was unstable—the system itself had mentioned "volatile weather"—but she hadn't imagined it could swing so violently.
From a pleasant, spring-like temperature at noon to near-freezing—or even below zero—by nightfall.
The change was too extreme.
Extreme enough to make her question whether she had truly adapted to this otherworld at all.
And she wasn't alone.
Throughout the entire Land of Oblivion, countless people were doing the same.
"It's freezing."
"I can't sleep at all—it's too cold."
"You're actually sleeping? Aren't you afraid you'll sleep through something important?"
"What choice do I have? My brain's about to freeze solid."
"I'm pretty sure the temperature's already below zero."
"What the hell is happening? How can it get this cold so suddenly?"
"Maybe it's because of the magic turbulence."
"So it'll stop after a week?"
"Who knows? I'm stocking up on wood just in case."
"Haha! I'm a Golden Miner—I've got coal. Anyone who needs it, hit me up."
"I want some!"
"Sell me a hundred pounds! I need to survive this damn turbulence!"
As soon as coal was mentioned, the chat exploded.
People swarmed the so-called Golden Miner, desperate to buy fuel. In mere moments, he made a fortune. Even through the text, his smug satisfaction was obvious.
However, just as enthusiasm reached its peak, someone poured cold water over the excitement.
"Do you even have a fireplace at home? If you don't, are you trying to burn coal to kill yourself?"
"…Uh."
The reminder hit hard.
Everyone suddenly realized that coal wasn't nearly as useful as it sounded.
Without proper ventilation or a fireplace, burning coal could be more dangerous than helpful. In comparison, firewood—though smoky—was far safer.
Immediately, some of the people who had rushed to buy coal changed their tune and began messaging the Golden Miner again.
"Hey, can I return it?"
"Is there something wrong with the quality of my coal?" the Golden Miner replied.
"No, it's fine. I just don't want it anymore."
"What are you dreaming about?" came the sharp response. "No quality issues, no refunds. Small businesses don't accept returns."
The Golden Miner wasn't intimidated in the slightest.
Those who had only bought small amounts—three to five pounds, maybe ten—grumbled but ultimately let it go. In this world, being unreasonable wasn't just rude; it could be fatal.
Everyone's identity was public. Avatars floated above heads, updated in real time. There was no hiding, no anonymity, no way to quietly cause trouble and slip away.
But those who had bought hundreds of pounds of coal weren't willing to swallow the loss.
Soon, a fierce and highly targeted argument erupted in the regional channel, drowning out all other conversations—including discussions about the weather itself.
Arya, however, remained blissfully unaware of the chaos.
And even if she had known, she wouldn't have cared.
Curled beneath her quilts, she was deep in thought, contemplating problems related to Potionology.
Although she had already successfully created two magic potions, her understanding felt more incomplete than ever. Each success only raised more questions.
Late nights like this—quiet, cold, and solitary—were perfect for thinking.
As her thoughts wandered, Arya slowly drifted into sleep.
She didn't know how much time passed before she was abruptly woken by the cold.
"…So cold."
The chill in this world wasn't ordinary. It was eerie—biting and relentless.
With dry, stinging eyes, Arya turned her head toward the glass door leading to the terrace. Moonlight spilled faintly through the glass, illuminating the scene outside.
The black mud she had spread across the terrace earlier was gone.
In its place lay a vast, unbroken expanse of white.
Snow had completely covered everything.
Arya stared silently, her breath fogging in the cold air.
The temperature was still falling.
And the magic turbulence had only just begun.
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