Another World: Becoming the Protagonist Means You Have to Die

It was colder here than during the winter ten years ago. Bill shivered as he clung to the tree trunk, pressing his cheek against the bark of a sentry tree. Thick, sweet sap ran down his face.

A white figure suddenly emerged from the shadows of the forest and stood before Lask.

He was entirely white and tall, with a pair of icy blue eyes. The crochet hook in his hand glinted silver. His armor seemed to change color whenever he moved, now as white as fresh snow, then as dark as night...

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.