Snow Burg was short.
He had been short his whole life—152 centimeters, to be exact—and no amount of stretching, sleeping early, or wishful thinking ever changed that. People liked to joke that life had taken his height and given it to his younger brother instead.
Snow didn't mind.
Or rather—he told himself he didn't.
He walked home under the dim glow of streetlights, blonde hair brushing against his neck, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. His face was plain, unremarkable, the kind you forgot moments after looking away. Black eyes, dulled by exhaustion, stared ahead—unfocused but alert. Dark circles clung stubbornly beneath them, proof of sleepless nights and overworked days.
At twenty-two, Snow looked older.
Not because of wrinkles—but because of responsibility.
He adjusted the strap of his worn bag and checked his phone again, thumb hovering for a second before unlocking it.
No new messages.
"…He's probably still in class," Snow muttered.
Snow Burg worked three jobs.
Not because he was ambitious. Not because he wanted success.
But because his younger brother, Light, deserved a normal life.
Their parents had died three years ago. A traffic accident. One phone call. One night that never ended. Snow still remembered standing in the hospital hallway, staring at the white walls while Light cried into his chest, shaking like the world had collapsed.
That night, Snow made a decision.
He quit school the next month.
Everyone told him it was stupid.
He agreed—and did it anyway.
Morning shifts at a convenience store. Afternoon labor at a warehouse. Late-night cleaning jobs when his body was already screaming.
Snow endured it all quietly.
He wasn't loud enough to complain, nor quiet enough to completely shut himself off. He joked with coworkers when needed, smiled at customers when expected, and withdrew into himself when alone. An ambivert by nature—social when necessary, private when it mattered.
All for one reason.
Light comes first.
Snow reached the crosswalk near their apartment.
The pedestrian light flickered green.
His phone buzzed.
> Light: Big bro, don't forget to eat. You skipped breakfast again, didn't you?
Snow smiled despite himself.
"Caught," he murmured.
He typed back while walking.
> Snow: I ate. Don't worry. Study hard.
Lie number… he'd lost count.
He stepped off the curb.
His foot caught the edge of the sidewalk.
"Huh—?"
His balance shifted.
A horn screamed.
Snow turned.
Headlights swallowed the world.
---
The Moment Everything Ended
The impact wasn't cinematic.
It was violent.
Metal collided with flesh. Bones cracked like dry branches. The world exploded into pain.
Snow felt himself lifted, then slammed hard against the asphalt. His glasses shattered somewhere nearby. His bag skidded away.
Pain rushed in all at once—
Then vanished.
Snow lay still, staring blankly upward.
The night sky blurred.
Sounds dulled.
…Am I dying?
His lungs refused to fill properly. His fingers twitched weakly against the cold road.
People shouted. Someone screamed his age wrong. Someone else cried.
Snow didn't hear them clearly.
Only one thought remained.
Light.
"No…" he tried to say.
Nothing came out.
I can't die yet.
The darkness crept in.
Heavy. Final.
He'll be alone.
Regret crushed him harder than the truck.
I promised.
Cold swallowed everything.
---
Death, or Something Like It
Snow drifted.
There was nothing.
No sound.
Only endless cold, like falling through snow without ever hitting the ground.
Am I dead?
Thoughts echoed strangely, distant yet sharp.
Memories surfaced unbidden.
Light grinning after a good test score. Light pretending not to notice Snow skipping meals. Light standing by the door every night, waiting.
I should've been more careful.
I should've—
The regret twisted painfully.
No.
Not like this.
Snow's thoughts spiraled.
Light will wake up tomorrow. He'll message me. I won't answer.
The image tore something inside him.
"I can't die," Snow thought desperately. "Not yet."
The darkness offered no reply.
Then—
Reality glitched.
The void stuttered—like a corrupted file skipping a frame.
Snow's thoughts froze.
…Huh?
The cold shifted.
A crack of light appeared below him.
Snow felt pulled toward it, falling without a body.
As he descended, something flickered in the distance.
A silhouette.
A smile.
Crooked. Sinister.
Gone.
Snow shivered.
"What… was that?"
The light expanded.
And everything broke.
---
A Black Space
Snow opened his eyes.
He floated in an endless black void—not darkness, but something deeper. No stars. No ground. No sound. Just existence.
"…Where am I?"
His voice echoed faintly.
He looked down.
He had a body.
Same clothes. Same hands. No pain.
Snow flexed his fingers slowly.
"I'm… alive?"
That didn't feel right.
A black screen appeared before him, floating silently.
White text pulsed.
[CHARACTER CREATION]
Snow stared.
"…What?"
He blinked.
The screen stayed.
"Character creation?" he repeated.
A laugh escaped him.
"This… is this a dream?"
He rubbed his face hard.
Is this how it is when you die?
A game menu?
Am I getting reincarnated or something?
The thought was absurd.
Snow laughed louder.
"Hahaha… hahahaha…"
The sound echoed hollowly.
"…This is stupid."
The laughter cracked.
His shoulders shook.
"…This isn't what I wanted."
He sank down, though there was no floor.
Tears spilled freely.
"Damn it…" he sobbed. "This isn't what I wanted. I don't want to live in a fantasy world or be a hero or something. I just want to have a peaceful and happy life with my brother."
His chest hurt.
"I didn't want power," Snow whispered. "I just wanted Light to live normally."
He buried his face in his hands.
"Light… my dearest brother."
Hours passed.
Eventually, Snow wiped his eyes.
"…I'm still here."
He sniffed.
"I'm already dead."
He looked at the screen again.
"…Guess I don't really have a choice now, do I?"
He inhaled.
"Let's just do this."
He pressed START.
---
Character Creation
[Appearance Customization]
A model appeared.
Snow frowned.
"…That's me?"
Average face. Blonde hair. Black eyes. Plain.
"…Wow," he muttered. "I look forgettable."
He shrugged.
"Fair."
Hair Color
Snow scrolled.
"…White?"
He smirked.
"My name is Snow."
He selected it.
The hair turned white instantly.
"…Okay, that's actually cool."
Height Adjustment
Default: 152 cm
Snow's eyebrow twitched.
"…No."
He dragged the slider.
160.
161.
162.
163.
He stopped.
"…Yes."
The model stretched taller.
Snow stood straighter instinctively.
"…I can finally see the top shelf."
He chuckled.
Eye Color
Black → Yellow
"…Light has yellow hair," Snow murmured. "Guess I'll take yellow eyes."
The system shifted again.
A new window slid smoothly into place.
[Race Selection]
Human Demi-Human Spirit Entity
Snow stared at the list.
"…Entity?"
The word felt wrong.
Not dangerous exactly—more like out of place. Like something that wasn't meant to be there.
"That sounds illegal," Snow muttered. "Or cursed. Or both."
He hovered over Human.
"Let's not be stupid," he said to himself. "Normal is good. Normal is safe."
He instantly clicked the screen.
Click.
[Race: Entity — Selected]
Snow froze.
"…Ah."
The screen pulsed once.
Then locked.
Snow's eyes widened.
"…Wait."
He immediately clicked the X button, trying to undo the mistake.
"Cancel. Cancel. CANCEL," he panickily shouted.
Nothing happened.
A red line of text appeared beneath the selection.
[Notice: Race selection has been finalized.]
"…No," Snow said flatly.
He jabbed at the screen harder.
"Undo. Back. Previous. Alt-F4. Something."
The system remained perfectly still.
Another message appeared.
[Race selections cannot be reversed once confirmed.]
Snow stared at it.
"…You didn't even ask me to confirm."
The system, of course, did not care.
Snow dragged both hands down his face slowly.
"…Okay. Okay. Let's calm down."
He exhaled.
"…It's probably fine."
He squinted at the word again.
"Entity."
"…What does that even mean?"
No explanation appeared.
Snow laughed weakly.
"Great. I died, got isekai'd, and accidentally picked the mystery horror option."
He shook his head.
"Light would absolutely make fun of me for this."
The thought softened his expression for a moment.
"…Alright," he sighed. "What's done is done."
He pointed at the screen again.
"Continue."
---
Final Adjustments
The system resumed as if nothing had happened.
[Final Review]
Name: Snow Race: Entity Height: 188 cm Hair Color: White Eye Color: Yellow
Snow looked over the summary.
"…I look way cooler than I deserve."
He chuckled softly.
"At least if I'm stuck in another world, I won't be short anymore."
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
"…Yeah."
He reached out.
And pressed FINISH.
---
The void shattered.
Snow felt pulled apart.
Not physically—conceptually.
Like reality grabbed him by the soul and dragged.
His vision twisted.
Sound returned all at once.
Wind. Leaves. Earth.
Snow slammed face-first into something soft and damp.
"—Gah!"
He rolled instinctively, coughing, hands digging into soil.
Dirt.
Actual dirt.
He pushed himself up, breathing hard.
"…What."
Tall trees surrounded him, their leaves pale silver under filtered light. Thick roots twisted across the forest floor, moss clinging to their bark. The air smelled fresh—too fresh. Alive.
Snow froze.
"…Wait."
He looked down at his hands.
Longer fingers. Clean skin. No scars.
He touched his hair.
White.
"…Did I—"
His breath hitched.
"Did I actually get reincarnated?"
He laughed.
A short, disbelieving sound.
"Hahaha… this is absurd."
He stood slowly, brushing dirt off his clothes—simple black fabric, unfamiliar but comfortable.
"What the hell is this," he muttered. "This is like my—"
He stopped.
His chest tightened suddenly.
"…And—"
The words wouldn't come.
He inhaled sharply.
"Haah…"
Snow pressed a hand to his face, steadying himself.
"…Get it together."
He looked around carefully.
Forest. No buildings. No roads. No people.
"…Okay," he said slowly. "Fantasy world. Reincarnation. Entity race."
He laughed again—dry this time.
"Of course."
He took a cautious step forward, then another, testing his balance.
"…I'm really here."
Leaves crunched underfoot.
Birds chirped somewhere distant.
Snow explored slowly, eyes sharp, senses heightened. Everything felt clearer. Sharper. Like his brain was running faster than before.
"…Wait."
He stopped abruptly.
"What about my skills?"
The thought hit him like a slap.
"…System."
The word left his mouth naturally.
The air in front of him distorted.
A black window appeared.
---
Status Window
[Name: Snow]
[Race: Entity]
[Status: Stable]
Snow leaned closer.
"…Show stats."
The window expanded.
Strength: 4
Constitution: 6
Speed: 9
Mana: 2
Luck: 18
Charm: 32
Intelligence: 90
Null: 1
Silence.
Snow stared.
"…What."
He blinked.
Then laughed.
"Strength four?" he said incredulously. "Are you kidding me?"
He flexed his arm experimentally.
"So I'm basically still weak."
His eyes moved down.
"Speed nine… okay, not terrible."
"Constitution six. Slightly better than paper."
He squinted.
"Mana two?"
He deadpanned.
"So magic hates me."
Then—
He froze.
"…Luck eighteen?"
His brow furrowed.
"That's… high, right?"
His gaze slid lower.
"…Charm thirty-two."
Snow stared.
"…What."
He touched his face instinctively.
"I look maybe a bit above average."
The system didn't respond.
"…Don't tell me this is personality-based," he muttered.
Then his eyes landed on the last two.
"Intelligence ninety…"
Snow went quiet.
"…That's stupidly high."
He exhaled slowly.
"…So my brain got buffed."
Finally—
"Null… one?"
He frowned.
"…What the hell is Null?"
No explanation appeared.
Snow clicked his tongue.
"Of course."
He scrolled.
[Skills]
The window was empty.
Snow stared.
"…None?"
He refreshed it.
Still nothing.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
He dragged a hand down his face.
"So let me get this straight," he said flatly. "I get reincarnated as some weird Entity thing, dumped into a forest, zero skills, trash strength, no mana, and a stat called Null that doesn't explain itself."
The system remained silent.
Snow sighed deeply.
"…Wow."
He looked up at the trees, then back at the screen.
"This is already starting off badly."
He shook his head, a crooked smile forming.
"…Light would laugh at this."
The smile lingered.
Then faded.
Snow clenched his fists.
"…Still."
He straightened.
"I'm not dead for nothing."
Snow sat on a moss-covered rock, staring at absolutely nothing.
"…Okay," he said out loud.
The forest did not respond.
He exhaled slowly and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Let's not panic," he muttered. "Panicking is how people die in survival documentaries."
He rubbed his temples.
Step one: I'm alive.
Step two: I'm in a forest.
Step three: I have no idea where I am.
Snow looked down at himself again—tall body, unfamiliar clothes, no tools, no bag, no phone.
"…Of course," he sighed. "Why would I get a starter pack?"
He stood up and stretched carefully, testing his balance and muscles. His body felt… lighter. Faster to respond. Still weak, but not fragile.
"Alright," he said, clapping his hands once. "Brain time."
He closed his eyes.
Light, what would you do?
The answer came immediately.
Don't rush. Make a plan.
Snow nodded.
"Good advice," he murmured. "As always."
A Simple Plan
Snow held up one finger.
"First priority: survive the night."
Second finger.
"Second: food and water."
Third finger.
"Third: find people. Normal people. Human people."
He paused.
"…Hopefully not hostile people."
He dropped his hand.
"So," he concluded, "camp first. Village later."
A small, humorless chuckle escaped him.
"Wow. I really did get isekai'd."
Exploration, Carefully
Snow started walking slowly, deliberately.
Not fast. Not careless.
He paid attention to everything—tree shapes, moss direction, strange plants, animal tracks. Every ten or so meters, he snapped a small branch and wedged it into the ground or against a tree trunk at an angle.
Trail markers.
"Future me will thank me," he said quietly.
As he walked, he gathered what he could.
Dry branches. Fallen sticks. Large leaves. Vines that looked flexible but strong.
He tested everything before keeping it. If it snapped too easily, he discarded it.
"No free durability stats," he muttered.
He found berries—small, dark blue.
Snow squatted and stared at them for a long time.
"…You look poisonous."
The berries did not deny it.
"Yeah. Not worth it."
He moved on.
Later, he found nuts scattered near a tree, some cracked open by animals.
He examined them carefully, sniffed them, rubbed a bit between his fingers.
"…Smells normal."
He hesitated.
Then sighed.
"Light would scold me for this."
He ate one.
Waited.
Counted to thirty.
Nothing happened.
"…Okay. Tentatively approved."
He collected more.
Water — Half a Victory
After what felt like an hour of walking, Snow heard it.
Water.
He followed the sound and found a narrow stream flowing gently between rocks, clear enough to see the bottom.
Snow crouched beside it, eyes almost shining.
"…Thank you."
He dipped his fingers in, then hesitated.
He remembered something from school—long ago, from a life he never finished.
"Drink upstream. Don't disturb sediment."
He leaned down and drank carefully.
Cold. Clean. Refreshing.
Snow sighed deeply.
"That's the best thing I've tasted all day."
Then reality returned.
"…But I can't carry it."
He stared at the stream.
Looked at his hands.
"…Right. No containers."
He sighed again.
"Okay. So this is a 'visit often' water source."
He marked nearby trees carefully—three slashes in a triangle.
"No getting lost," he muttered.
Building a Shelter (Painfully)
By late afternoon, Snow chose a spot slightly elevated, not too close to the stream but within walking distance. The ground was firm, and thick tree roots provided some natural protection.
"Alright," he said, dropping his pile of materials. "Let's build a house."
The forest waited.
Snow looked at the materials.
"…I have no idea what I'm doing."
His first attempt collapsed immediately.
"So that's a no."
Second attempt leaned dangerously.
"That's… also a no."
Third attempt stood for about ten seconds before falling apart.
Snow lay flat on his back, staring at the sky.
"…Carpentry should be illegal."
Eventually, through trial, error, frustration, and several muttered apologies to his own fingers, Snow figured out something workable.
A small hut. Low ceiling. Three walls of stacked branches. One wall reinforced with packed dirt. Large leaves layered on top for a roof.
It wasn't pretty.
It was barely stable.
But it was shelter.
Snow crawled inside and sat there for a moment.
Then he laughed.
"…I built a house."
He tapped the wall.
"Light, I built a house."
His smile faded slightly.
"…You'd be proud, wouldn't you?"
Stockpiling and Routine
Before night fell, Snow gathered more nuts, edible roots he tested cautiously, and thick leaves to store them on.
He arranged everything neatly inside the hut.
Food on one side. Sleeping space on the other.
He even made a crude door from branches.
"It's not much," he said, "but it's honest work."
The sun began to dip.
Golden light filtered through silver leaves.
The forest changed.
Sounds deepened. Shadows stretched.
Snow stepped outside and looked around one last time, memorizing everything.
"…Okay," he whispered. "Day one complete."
He crawled back inside, hugging his knees.
The hut creaked softly.
Snow listened.
Breathing steady. Heart calm.
"I survived," he murmured.
Then, quietly—
"…I'll survive tomorrow too."
He closed his eyes.
And for the first time since dying—
Snow slept.
Snow woke up warm.
That alone confused him.
"…Light?"
The name left his mouth before his brain caught up.
Snow blinked slowly.
"Light," he muttered again, voice hoarse. "You're gonna be late for—"
He sat up.
Branches.
Leaves.
Dirt walls.
The low, crooked ceiling of a badly made hut.
"…Ah."
His chest tightened.
Right.
Light wasn't here.
Snow stared at the floor.
"…Sorry," he whispered.
The word felt heavy.
He dragged a hand through his white hair and exhaled hard.
"…Okay."
He stood up.
"I survived yesterday," he said aloud, forcing steadiness into his voice. "I built shelter. I didn't freeze or get eaten."
A weak chuckle escaped him.
"That's already a win."
Morning Reality
Outside, the forest greeted him like nothing had happened.
Birds chirped. Sunlight filtered through pale leaves. The world continued.
"…Must be nice," Snow muttered.
He ate quietly, chewing slower than he should.
His thoughts drifted.
Light's probably waking up right now. Probably annoyed I didn't reply. Probably telling himself I worked late again.
Snow swallowed.
"…He'll be okay," he said, though he didn't fully believe it.
He clenched his fists.
"This is my reality now."
He straightened.
"And I'll survive it."
Today's Goal
Snow packed nothing—because he had nothing to pack.
"Find people," he said firmly. "Actual people."
He glanced back at the hut.
"I'll come back later."
Then he headed out.
The Long Walk
The forest stretched endlessly.
Snow walked for hours, carefully marking trees as he went.
"…If this is a fantasy world," he muttered, "it's very committed to being inconvenient."
His mind wandered to his stats.
Strength: 4
Speed: 9
"…I'm still weak," he sighed. "Even reincarnation couldn't fix that."
He glanced around uneasily.
"…And magic?"
He raised a hand.
"…Fire?"
Nothing.
"…Spark?"
Nothing.
Snow dropped his arm.
"Two mana," he reminded himself. "I could probably light a candle and die of exhaustion."
The Wrong Place
The forest changed.
Less birds. Less sound.
Snow slowed.
Then he saw movement.
Crude tents. A fire pit. Small figures.
"…Goblins," he whispered.
There were many.
Ten. Maybe more.
They carried weapons.
"…Nope."
He turned—
Then something flickered over one goblin.
Snow froze.
"…What?"
A window hovered faintly.
[Goblin]
Strength: 6
Constitution: 3
Speed: 12
Snow's breath caught.
"…I can see monsters."
He looked at another.
Same.
"…Speed twelve," he muttered. "That's… bad."
Then his brain clicked.
"…If I can see monsters…"
He swallowed.
"…Can I see humans?"
A chill ran down his spine.
"That's dangerous."
He took a step back.
"Nope. Not today."
Disaster Timing
Snow turned—
His foot snagged on a root.
"—Shit!"
He hit the ground hard.
A loud crack echoed.
Silence.
Then—
Shrill screams.
Snow's heart slammed into his ribs.
"Run."
He ran.
Snow ran.
Branches tore at his clothes. His breath came out ragged, shallow, panicked. Every step sent pain shooting up his legs, but he didn't slow.
Behind him—
Shrill laughter.
Footsteps.
Too many.
"…Too fast," he gasped. "They're too fast—!"
A root caught his foot.
Snow pitched forward and slammed into the ground hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs.
Before he could even scream, something heavy crashed onto his back.
Snow rolled instinctively.
A goblin loomed over him, eyes wild, mouth stretched into a grin too wide for its face.
The club came down.
Snow barely twisted aside. The blow smashed into the dirt where his head had been.
"Get—off—me!" Snow shouted.
His fingers brushed against a stone.
He grabbed it and smashed it into the goblin's face.
Once.
The goblin screeched.
Again.
Its grip loosened.
Again.
Bone cracked.
The goblin convulsed and collapsed on top of him.
Snow shoved the body aside, coughing violently.
"…I— I killed it," he whispered.
His arms trembled uncontrollably.
Pain throbbed everywhere—his ribs, his shoulder, his knee. Something warm soaked into his sleeve.
He barely had time to breathe.
Another goblin lunged from the side, blade raised.
Snow's eyes widened.
"No—!"
He rolled, fingers scrabbling blindly—and closed around something cold and heavy.
A sword.
The dead goblin's sword.
Snow barely had time to think.
He swung.
The blade caught the goblin mid-lunge.
The momentum drove the sword deep into its chest.
The goblin let out a choking screech and collapsed at Snow's feet.
Snow stared, frozen.
Blood pooled around the blade.
A sound chimed faintly.
[You have slain 2 Goblins.]
[EXP gained.]
Snow barely registered it.
"…Later," he rasped. "I— I'll look later—!"
More goblins burst through the trees.
Snow forced himself up and ran again.
Running, Thinking, Bleeding
Every step hurt.
His vision blurred at the edges.
The sword felt impossibly heavy in his hands.
"…System," he gasped. "What— what was that message—?"
A window flickered briefly.
Stats.
Numbers.
"…Attributes?"
His brain latched onto it desperately.
"…Points," he realized. "I— I have points."
The goblins were getting closer.
"…Okay," Snow panted. "Okay— think—!"
He focused on the numbers while running, heart hammering.
Strength. Speed.
"…Strength helps hitting," he reasoned frantically. "Speed helps running—!"
His fingers shook.
"Two— strength— one— speed—!"
The points vanished.
His body jolted.
Not dramatically—but noticeably.
His grip tightened.
His legs felt… slightly stronger.
"…It worked," he whispered in disbelief.
Last Stand
It wasn't enough.
The goblins caught up.
One slammed into Snow from behind.
He crashed into the dirt, screaming.
The sword skidded away.
Snow rolled, grabbed it again, and stabbed wildly.
The blade sank into a goblin's throat.
It collapsed, gurgling.
Snow didn't stop.
He lunged at another.
The goblin blocked.
The impact sent pain screaming through Snow's arms.
The goblin laughed.
Snow stabbed again.
The blade pierced its side.
Then its chest.
The goblin fell.
Snow staggered back, chest heaving.
"…I— I killed them…"
Four bodies lay still.
Blood soaked the ground.
Snow swayed.
Then—
Something heavy smashed into the back of his head.
He collapsed.
Hands grabbed him.
Sharp teeth sank into his shoulder.
Snow screamed.
They didn't kill him quickly.
They laughed.
They bit.
They tore.
Snow felt fingers digging into his wounds, teeth ripping flesh from bone.
Pain became everything.
"…Light—" he sobbed.
The goblins' laughter echoed as they ate.
Then—
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Snow screamed.
He jolted upright so violently his vision whited out, lungs dragging in air like he'd been drowning. His hands flew to his chest, his throat, his stomach—expecting torn flesh, missing chunks, unbearable pain.
There was nothing.
No blood. No wounds. No pain.
Only cold sweat soaking his clothes and his heart trying to tear its way out of his ribs.
"—Haah—haah—haah—!"
He scrambled backward on instinct, palms scraping against dirt, eyes wild.
"No—no—no—NO—"
His voice cracked.
"I died," he gasped. "I died."
The memory slammed into him without mercy.
Teeth tearing into his arm.
Hands pinning him down.
Laughter—high, shrill, gleeful—as pain drowned thought.
Snow gagged and dry-heaved, bile burning his throat.
"…They ate me," he whispered hoarsely.
His whole body began to shake.
Not dramatically. Not heroically.
Ugly, uncontrollable tremors that made his teeth chatter.
He pressed his forehead into the ground, breathing fast and shallow, trying not to scream again.
"…Calm down," he muttered desperately. "Calm down. You're alive. You're alive."
It took a long time before the shaking eased.
When he finally dared to look around, his breath hitched.
The forest was wrong.
No—earlier.
The trees stood the same, but the marks he'd made while exploring were gone. No broken branches. No stacked stones. No trail markers.
Snow's eyes widened.
"…No way."
He scrambled to his feet and ran a short distance, heart hammering.
The clearing where his half-finished hut should have been was empty.
Bare ground. Untouched.
Snow slowly sank to his knees.
"…A day," he whispered.
His voice was flat, hollow.
"It sent me back a day."
A black window flickered into existence in front of him.
[Notification]
[Null has been consumed.]
[Remaining Null: 0]
Snow stared.
"…Null," he murmured.
Another notification followed.
[You have slain 4 Goblins.]
[EXP gained: 6]
His breathing slowed as his brain forced itself to work through the panic.
"…I killed two," he said quietly.
His eyes flicked to the corner of the window.
EXP: 6 / 9
Snow froze.
"…Wait."
His mind replayed the earlier fight—the moment he'd killed the second goblin, the sudden system message, the rush of strength that hadn't lasted.
"…I leveled up back then," he muttered.
Slowly, carefully, he pieced it together.
"If two goblins gave me six experience… and I leveled up at six…"
He swallowed.
"Then the first level only needed six EXP."
His eyes dropped back to the bar.
"…And now it needs nine."
A soft, humorless laugh escaped him.
"So it scales," he murmured. "Of course it does."
His gaze shifted to his stats.
Strength and Speed were still higher than before.
"…The points stayed," he realized.
The memory surfaced—running, panicking, barely understanding what he was doing as he shoved points into his body mid-chase.
"…I didn't imagine that."
Snow rubbed his face hard.
"…So leveling is real. Stat allocation is real. Death is real."
His hands trembled again, but this time he didn't let it take over.
"And Null…"
His eyes locked onto the empty number.
"…So it was like an extra life."
Understanding settled heavily in his chest.
Not relief.
Fear.
"That was my only one," he whispered.
His knees drew up slightly, arms wrapping around himself.
"…If I die again like that…"
He didn't finish the thought.
Instead, he inhaled slowly.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
"I'm scared," Snow admitted quietly.
His voice wavered—but it didn't break.
"I'm really scared."
He stared at the forest ahead, teeth clenching.
"But I'm still thinking."
That mattered.
He wiped his face and forced himself to stand.
"…Okay."
He looked at the status window again—not as a curiosity now, but as a lifeline.
"From now on," Snow said firmly, voice low but steady, "my first priority is leveling up."
No villages. No long-term dreams. No pretending this was a game.
"Every level," he continued, "one point goes into Null."
No exceptions.
"I don't care how tempting the others are."
He glanced at Strength and Speed.
"The rest go into what keeps me alive."
Strength—to end fights faster. Speed—to escape when I can't.
He swallowed.
"…Magic can wait."
The idea of spellcasting felt distant—luxurious.
Survival was not.
Snow looked down at his shaking hands.
"…I'm human," he whispered. "So yeah. I'm afraid."
Then he clenched his fists.
"But I've been afraid before."
He thought of late nights. Empty refrigerators. Hospital hallways. A small boy crying into his chest.
"…And I didn't stop then either."
He straightened slowly.
"I died once," Snow said quietly. "That's enough."
His gaze hardened—not with rage, but with resolve.
"Next time," he murmured, "I live."