The Knocking Ghost knocked on the door twenty-three times.
I died twenty-three times, and the three ghosts inside me dragged me back twenty-three times.
The Silence Ghost erased information, the Shadow Nightmare controlled space, and the Delusion devoured consciousness.
Three Class A vengeful ghosts were locked in a deadlock inside me, unable to revive forever, making me an anomaly in the cracks between the rules.
I couldn't die, but I couldn't truly live, either.
Only later did I realize they weren't protecting me. They simply couldn't do anything to one another.
So I began hunting ghosts.
One, two, three.
I forged their rules into a world-destroying blade and paved my path with their supernatural powers.
I traveled through countless worlds, met countless mighty figures, and stood beyond the rules.
I became the one and only exception.
Later, I met someone on the walls of the Perfect World.
Dressed in white as pure as snow, with long hair cascading like a waterfall, she stood beneath the moonlight as if she'd stepped out of a painting.
She said, “I've seen you.”
On that ghost bus, back when you didn't yet know who you were.
At that moment, I suddenly realized
I hadn't traveled through countless worlds to become stronger.
I had done it so I could stand before her.
Later, someone asked me what it felt like to stand beyond the rules.
I said it didn't feel like anything.
Because I had already turned back.
To go back and be with her.
