It has been 23 days, 14 hours, and 32 seconds since I've been here—in this place where there is nothing but emptiness. The entire space is pure white. I've kept my eyes closed for so long that whenever I open them, the brightness burns. I can't use spells here, so I've had no choice but to use my own blood to draw on the ground—just to have something to look at, something to count with also still couldn't find the answer of why I am trapped here or how I got here .
I've counted to 2,592,000. That means I've spent exactly 30 days here.
I don't die from lack of food or water, but I still feel hunger. I still feel thirst .I've even tried killing myself by choking—but I can't.
Eventually, my will broke. I hadn't eaten in months—So I ate something. My own finger.I had to pull it out myself. I didn't even have my sword.
This continued until I came to my senses and realized—I had eaten my entire left arm.I can't even remember the pain anymore.
Then one day, I saw a golden light. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel its warmth. I knew it was golden.When I opened my eyes, I saw a door, shining in gold.I walked toward it.
But as I reached for the handle, a chill ran down my spine.I looked back.
There was a man standing in the white nothingness, covering his face with both hands and was wearing a suit . But that wasn't the scariest part—Hovering above him was a creature, moving toward me.
I rushed through the door and slammed it shut behind me.
Suddenly, I was somewhere else. Somewhere with color.It took me a few seconds to realize it was a house.
I smiled.
I ran. I searched the new place for food and water. I didn't care if it was real. I didn't care if it was another weird dream.
I've had many dreams like this—But this time, I didn't want it to be a dream again.
I was enjoying myself—eating and drinking—tears rolling down my cheeks as I remembered the taste of food. As I continued, I suddenly felt a hand touch my shoulder.When I turned around, I saw a girl with yellow and orange hair and fiery red eyes.
I was about to apologize for eating here, but she spoke first.
"Winter... this is the first thing you do after waking up?"Hearing my name hit me like a wave.
Memories came rushing back—the time before I entered that white hell of a place.
I focused, trying to piece everything together, and slowly realized... this girl was Athena. And this place—it was the Prince's mansion. And that woman—
I suddenly threw up everything I had eaten, right in front of Athena.
Embarrassed, I stood up, wiped my face, and hugged her tightly. I had missed so many people. And she—she was one of them.
But I felt her struggling to push me off, and then—smack—a sharp slap hit my face, sending me stumbling back.
That's when I realized why she slapped me—some of the vomit had gotten on her clothes.
"Winter, I will kill yo—" she paused, her voice catching. "Why are you crying?"
Tears streamed down my face. Athena, sighing in frustration, used water magic to clean her clothes, though she'd still have to change them. But as she turned to scold me again, I collapsed.
***
"... and that's the reason I acted like that," I finished explaining. As I looked around, everyone wore an expression somewhere between sadness and shock.
"You have a great will, Mr. Winter," said the general, handing me a glass of orange juice.I took it with my left hand, but it slipped and fell. When I tried with my other hand, I lifted it just fine.
"You need to train your left hand to get its senses back. Don't worry—just heat your hand and you'll be able to use it normally," the prince said, smiling."Have you lost an arm before?" I asked.
He nodded. I followed his advice.
...
"My lord, we have found all three things you told us to look for," I said, kneeling before him. He examined the items and smiled. Then, with a snap of his fingers, the 'door' appeared before me.
"Choose whatever you like," he said. I bowed, opened the door, stepped through, and closed it behind me.
The place I entered was a library—but what makes it special is that this library is infinite. No matter how far you go, you can never reach the end of it .nd you want to know why I'm here? It's simple. I'm here for a bookand these books… they aren't normal.
****
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, but it offered no comfort. The soft glow of the lamp flickered weakly from the bedside table, stretching long, wavering shadows across the walls like reaching arms. The blanket wrapped around me like a cocoon, yet I felt no warmth. Only the cold.
My right hand trembled atop the sheets.
What if I open my eyes and I'm back there? What if this... is just another trick?Another weird dream? Another layer of that white hell?
I turned onto my side, slowly, afraid of what I might see if I moved too fast.My breath quickened. The room around me remained still—but too still. Too quiet.I pulled the blanket over my head like a child hiding from the dark.
"It's real. It's real," I whispered into the pillow, over and over again, as if saying it enough times could make it true.
But it was real.
That place. The white nothingness. The taste of blood.The feeling of biting into your own flesh because hunger had driven you past reason.
I could still taste it.
The copper tang filled my mouth as if it had never left.My stomach twisted. My throat tightened.
And then, quietly, I began to cry.I didn't sob. I didn't wail. I simply wept—silently and brokenly—into the pillow, afraid that even my own voice might shatter whatever fragile dream I'd found refuge in.Afraid that acknowledging it would snap me back to that place.
I gripped the sheets tighter, but they felt wrong—too smooth, too soft. Not like the sticky, dried blood-soaked ground I had spent countless days lying on.My entire body trembled as I sat up abruptly, heart pounding so loudly it hurt.
I looked around the room in a frenzy.The lamp flickered. The walls were made of stone. The air smelled faintly of lavender and parchment. The bed was carved wood.
I reached out—touched the pillow, the floor, the bedframe. Again. Again.Still real. Still here.
And yet, no matter how many times I told myself that, I couldn't stop the terror from creeping back in—Couldn't stop imagining that tomorrow I'd wake up and find myself back there, alone.
I curled into a ball, clutching the pillow against my chest, and wept harder.The sound muffled in the fabric, but it echoed loud enough through the hallway outside.
Outside the door, Silver stood, back pressed against the wooden frame, arms folded tightly as if holding something in.
"He's scared," he whispered. "Even his breathing is irregular. Do you hear that?"
Luka stood beside him, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. She had been quiet for some time, watching the hallway as if trying to make sense of the sounds behind the door.
"That place he was in... it wasn't a dream for sure," she murmured.
Silver's eyes narrowed. "Who the hell could that lady be?" he asked, voice low and biting. "And who could that man be?"
Silver turned to her fully now, stepping closer, tone sharp. "Princess. What are you and your brother planning? Be honest. Because no matter how I look at it—this is your fault."
She blinked, caught off guard. "My fault?"
"Yes," Silver snapped. "You and your brother wanted to use Winter for something... and I also know that 'liking things'—it's just a lie. And because of that he's—" silver gestured toward the door, voice cracking, "—like this."
Luka's jaw clenched. "You think we wanted this?"
"I think you let it happen," he shot back.
"Me and Kite know Winter. He's just part of your plan—"
Her face twitched—guilt flickering behind her composed expression.
"He spent months in that hell, hallucinating, self-harming, losing touch with reality."
Luka looked down, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"I didn't know," she whispered, voice shaking.
Silver didn't reply immediately. He just stared at her.
The silence pressed in around them until it was broken—by another soft, choked sob from inside the room.
Luka turned toward the door, shoulders sagging, face pale.
Silver's voice was softer now, but no less raw.
Luka stepped closer to the door, placing her hand on the handle without opening it. She turned to face Silver. Her eyes, for once, didn't carry arrogance or cold strategy. Just exhaustion.
"I'll tell you everything."