In the bottomless delirium, old memories found their way back, as sharp as shards of glass slicing through my mind.

  I saw myself huddled once again in the corner of that church courtyard from years ago. Once more, I felt the bone-chilling cold of Loran. Whenever Sister Agnes wasn't around, the world around me seemed to freeze along with it. The other nuns, who just moments before were smiling and patting my head when Sister Agnes was present, now walked past me with eyes as cold and lifeless as if they were looking at a pebble by the roadside.

  The rich, fragrant scent of hot milk drifted from the kitchen, mingling with the laughter of the other children lining up. I sat there, swallowing hard, my empty stomach churning in spasms. I wasn't allowed to line up. They told me I had to wait.

  "Wait until everyone has gotten theirs. If there's any left, it's yours."

  But as time went on, those "leftovers" dwindled. The amount of milk I received today was less than yesterday, and it kept repeating like that until one day, the enameled pot was scraped clean. There was nothing left for me, not even a drop of dregs, while every other child had a full cup of milk.

  Back then, I thought my lack of milk was because the church was going through hard times. Because of that thought, I didn't dare tell Sister Agnes. If I demanded hot milk right then, I might be kicked out. Taking care of me was already exhausting enough for them; I did nothing for them, so what right did I have to demand anything?

  Until one day, I accidentally overheard their conversation. The sisters had deliberately taken the milk that was supposed to be mine to divide equally among the other children.

  So the church wasn't struggling after all. In the mind of a six-year-old child, I gradually came to a rather grim realization. Turned out, was everything I had thought all along wrong? I ran out of the church, crying wordlessly. And then, no one bothered to chase after me; they even pretended they hadn't seen a thing.

  Why were they so gentle when Sister Agnes was around, only to treat me like that the moment she turned her back? Gradually, the child inside me understood the cruel truth: they had never loved me. They were only kind because they feared Sister Agnes, or simply to put on a play of charity for her.

  I used to resent them. Then I resented my parents, who had never appeared in my memories. "Why did you give birth to me only to throw me away?"

  And finally, when there was no one left to resent, I turned to blame myself.

  Right, it was my fault. Because of this eerie white hair. Because my presence was an omen of bad luck. Perhaps... I shouldn't have existed in this world in the first place.

  ...

  A harsh light pierced through my eyelids, dragging me out of the less-than-pleasant past.

  I jolted awake, my chest heaving as I gasped for air like I had just been holding my breath for a long time. My lungs burned as if someone had been crushing them.

  The light... was too bright. I raised a hand to shield my eyes, but the gaps between my fingers couldn't block out the brilliant, unfamiliar sunlight pouring down.

  It took a long while for my eyes to get used to the light.

  I was lying on grass. Not the cold stone floor of the church, nor the wooden floor of the carriage. The grass was soft and lush, wet with dewdrops clinging to each blade. I was in a circular clearing, surrounded by towering, ancient trees. Their dense canopies completely covered the sky, letting only a few dappled rays of sunlight slip through.

  "Where... is this?"

  A sharp throb flared up in my head.

  That's right. At that time… I jumped into the sea from the window, and then…

  I groped my left chest.

  No blood. No gaping hole. But that phantom feeling was still there, I hadn't been able to forget it…

  It was the sensation of a freezing cold sword piercing through my flesh, stabbing straight into my heart. The pain tearing my chest apart, along with the feeling of free-falling from the castle window into the sea. Thinking about it, my body suddenly trembled with fear.

  Logically, with that stab wound, I should be dead.

  So why am I still here?

  I shivered, wrapping my arms around my shoulders, curling up in a habitual defensive posture. A vague fear crept in.

  Right, in fairy tales, people in Hell cannot die. If they die, they immediately resurrect and continue the cycle of torture.

  So, I don't even have the right to die…

  Suddenly, the ground beneath my feet trembled slightly as a massive shadow swept overhead. The sky darkened in an instant.

  I looked up.

  Amidst the deep blue void, a magnificent creature was soaring. Its colossal wings spread wide, blotting out the sun. The scales on its body shimmered with a sparkling silver light, so majestic and breathtakingly beautiful.

  My heart skipped a beat. In the torn comic books I used to scavenge from the Loran dump, that shape was drawn many times.

  A dragon.

  It was real.

  The dragon let out an echoing roar, a deep, heroic sound like rumbling thunder, then flapped its wings and flew off into the distance, disappearing behind mist-shrouded mountain ranges. I stared after it in a daze, a strange emotion rising within me. In the old world, dragons were mere myths. But here, they were real, massive, and full of power.

  “...”

  A strange noise rustled from the bushes behind me, yanking me back to reality.

  It didn't sound like the wind shaking branches and leaves. It was heavy, clumsy—the sound of something large trying to move quietly but failing.

  I held my breath. My survival instincts flared. I gently backed away, hiding behind the trunk of a large ancient tree, trying to shrink my body as much as possible.

  I peeked through narrowed eyes toward the source of the noise.

  From the undergrowth, a creature stepped out.

  Its skin was green, rough like old tree bark. Its body was short but broad, muscles bulging grotesquely. In its hand, it gripped a massive wooden club smeared with dark brown streaks—I shuddered upon realizing it might be dried blood.

  A monster.

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  I covered my mouth tightly, trying not to make a sound. My heart pounded against my chest as if trying to shatter my ribcage, sweat dripping down and stinging my eyes. I turned my face away, not daring to look straight at it anymore, praying it would leave.

  “Sniff… sniff…”

  It… was it sniffing? I must be mistaken, right? I slowly turned back to look at the monster once more.

  The monster stopped. Its broad, flat nose tilted up, sniffing the air.

  It seemed to have caught a scent.

  It snapped its head toward the tree I was hiding behind. A low, dull growl rumbled in its throat, sounding like two stones grinding together.

  It knew I was here!

  I couldn't hide anymore. It wasn't safe here!

  I sprang up, dashing out of my hiding spot with all the strength I had left.

  "ROAR!"

  The monster's deafening roar erupted right behind me, ferocious and ravenous.

  I ran headlong. My bare feet trampled over rugged tree roots and agonizingly sharp pebbles, but I didn't dare stop, nor did I dare look down.

  Where to run now?

  In my panic, the image of the silver dragon from earlier flashed in my mind.

  In the fairy tales Sister Agnes used to tell, and in the storybooks I read, dragons were noble creatures. They protected humans from monsters; they were guardian deities.

  Even though logic told me that might just be a myth, at this moment, it was the only ray of hope I had. With that green monster wielding a club chasing me, I could only bet this fragile life on the dragons.

  I headed toward where the dragon had flown and ran with all my might.

  But I was too weak. The scrawny body of a malnourished child couldn't outrun the strides of the monster. The thudding footsteps behind me drew closer and closer.

  "Ah!"

  I tripped over a root protruding from the ground.

  My whole body slammed face-first into the dirt. The hard impact left me dizzy, my vision blurring.

  I struggled to prop myself up, turning my head back toward the monster and looking at it in despair.

  The monster stood towering right in front of me, blocking out the sunlight. Its pitch-black shadow engulfed me. It bared its yellowed teeth, drool dripping down continuously, its bloodshot eyes looking at me like I was a fresh, delicious piece of meat.

  Its muscular arm raised the wooden club high above its head.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, curling up in anticipation.

  Dying again? Just how long will this loop last? I will die only to come back to life, then continue dying how many more times?

  With this frail body, I couldn't fight back. Was there nothing I could do but accept and endure this damn truth…

  And then, a sharp, wind-piercing sound rang out.

  There was no sound of a club crushing bone and flesh as I had imagined. Instead, there was a clean "thwack," sounding like a sharp knife slicing through a tender slab of meat.

  And then... everything fell silent, leaving only the sound of blades of grass and leaves swaying in the wind.

  Something warm and wet splattered onto my cheek.

  I tremblingly opened my eyes a crack.

  The wooden club hit the ground with a "thud," rolling off to the side.

  And the monster... its ugly head slowly slid off its neck, falling to the ground, rolling right to my feet. Black blood spurted out in torrents from the severed neck before the massive body crashed down like a rotten log.

  Hovering in mid-air, blocking the space between me and that headless corpse, was a pitch-black object.

  A scythe?

  It hovered there, its long handle gleaming black, its curved blade reflecting every deliberate ray of light that hit it, exuding an aura of commanding, deadly authority. No one was holding it. It flew on its own, slashed on its own, and now it stood there, as still as a statue.

  My mouth hung open, forgetting to breathe, forgetting the pain in my leg.

  Did it... just save me?

  I remained sitting on the ground, my rapid breathing yet to steady. My eyes were glued to the object now embedded in the ground before me—a pitch-black scythe.

  If not for it, my head would have been separated from my neck just like that monster's.

  I slowly reached out an arm that was still shaking, intending to touch it, but my hand suddenly froze.

  A flash of memory darted through my head.

  I remembered the moment I fell from the castle window, the wind howling in my ears, and the deep blue sea waiting to embrace me. But before I could even touch the water, a chest-tearing pain struck.

  That thing... the thing that had pierced through my chest, pinning my fate to death...

  It wasn't a sword.

  I stared intently at that cold, curved blade. The light reflecting off the glossy black metal surface... was exactly the same as the last light I saw before I stopped breathing.

  It was it.

  It was definitely it!

  I jerked my hand back as if I had touched fire, my whole body shaking violently. The phantom pain from my chest flared up fiercely.

  Why? Why did the thing that killed me appear here? Why did it save me? Or did it want to kill me all over again?

  "Get away from me!"

  I screamed, my voice cracking with panic. I scrambled to my feet, turned my back, and ran for my life. I ran toward the high mountain in the distance, where the silver dragon had flown earlier. In my mind right now, the dragon was still my only hope, the benevolent creature from the pages of fairy tales, the exact opposite of that evil scythe.

  I ran and ran until my lungs burned. But the panic had stripped away my necessary caution.

  I crashed into something hard as rock, foul-smelling, and massive.

  I fell backward, looking up.

  It wasn't a tree. It was a wall of flesh.

  A creature significantly larger than the green-skinned monster from earlier. It was lanky, with pale gray skin and two long, curved fangs protruding from its mouth. Another monster?

  Unlike the last time, I had made too much noise. The monster turned around immediately. Its murky yellow eyes looked down at me, glinting with cruelty and starvation.

  It didn't growl a threat. It swung its giant fist down instantly.

  I closed my eyes.

  A monster in front of me. Behind me, the thing that had once killed me. I had no way out…

  It's all over…

  …

  That sound again. The sound of the wind being ripped apart.

  I snapped my eyes open. The monster's fist stopped right in front of my nose, then fell to the ground along with its severed arm.

  Before the monster could even scream in agony, a pitch-black curve glided across its neck. The massive head fell, blood spraying like a fountain.

  The scythe. It was it again…

  It appeared again. It hovered in mid-air, its blade drenched in fresh blood, then plunged into the ground right next to me, acting as a shield between me and that massive monster's corpse.

  This scene was repeating itself once more…

  I swallowed hard, staring at that scythe.

  What about this time? It had killed all the obstacles. Was it my turn now?

  I squeezed my eyes shut, gritting my teeth as I waited for that cold blade to slice my neck. Or pierce through my chest again. But one second... two seconds... then ten seconds passed.

  Nothing happened. Only the sound of the wind whistling through the mountain ravine and the rustling of leaves.

  I opened my eyes a crack to peek.

  The scythe was still there, silent, as motionless as a statue. Wasn't it attacking me?

  Could it be… it was actually trying to help me? But didn't it want to kill me before?

  I looked deep into the glossy black metal blade. The fear was still there, churning in my stomach. But mixed with it was an undeniable truth that I was forced to admit: In this world, I was merely an ant. Anything could crush me.

  If I ran away, I would definitely die.

  If I went with it... maybe it would kill me later, or maybe it would protect me like it just did.

  I bit my lip so hard it bled.

  "You already killed me once..."

  I whispered to the scythe, my voice trembling but holding the insane resolve of someone with no way out.

  "If you want my life that badly, then keep it. Don't let anyone else steal it!"

  I squeezed my eyes shut, then immediately reached out and gripped the scythe's handle tightly.

  …

  Nothing happened!

  A moment after touching the scythe, I was still safe and sound. It was so cold. But this coldness was now the only thing I could cling to.

  Hesitating for a moment, I decided to pull it out of the ground. It was heavier than I thought, but strangely enough, I could still carry it on my shoulder.

  I continued walking, trudging toward the foot of the mountain.

  When I arrived, I looked up at the sheer rock peak. Up there, I saw a giant nest. And inside was a silver dragon...

  It was beautiful, majestic, bending down to feed its hatchlings. A strangely heartwarming sight. I huddled behind a large rock, gazing in awe. It turned out dragons had families too, and knew how to love their children.

  But was every dragon like this...?

  I wanted to get a closer look. I stood on my tiptoes, resting my hands on the rock. And then, a piece of rock under my hand broke off, tumbling down the slope, creating a crunching sound that echoed through the quiet space.

  The silver dragon instantly raised its head. Its fiery eyes swept down to the foot of the mountain and locked onto my hiding spot.

  It opened its mouth. A blinding red light gathered in its throat.

  "Run!"

  That was all I had time to think.

  A giant fireball plummeted down, exploding right next to the rock I had just been hiding behind.

  The terrifying shockwave blasted me away. I rolled several times on the ground, my ears ringing, my whole body aching from the impact. The scythe flew out of my hand but remained within reach.

  The dragon was drawing breath, preparing for a second attack. It seemed it wouldn't miss this time…

  I looked around in a panic, searching for a way to survive.

  Right at the base of the cliff, obscured by scorched thorn bushes, was a small crevice—an entrance to a pitch-black cave.

  There was no other choice.

  I grabbed the scythe, using all my remaining strength to dive into that crevice just as the second flare of fire began to flash in the sky.

  The darkness of the cave swallowed me whole, leaving behind the furious roar and the scorching heat of the dragon.

  For now, I was probably safe. I hoped so.