Three days later.
I woke up in the infirmary with pain coursing through every inch of my body.
'Damn, I'm here again.'
I thought while looking at the white ceiling overhead. At this point, I had lost count of how many times I had nearly died in the past month alone.
My jaw tightened as I thought of the sick bastard of an author who had dumped me into this world.
Yet even now, a part of me couldn't quite hate it.
I had loved this story once—loved it so much that reaching the final chapter only to find no real ending had felt like a blade to the heart.
And now I was inside it. Fighting to stay alive, to crawl toward whatever ending waited at the far edge of this cursed road.
Even if the world itself seemed determined to bury me first. Giving up wasn't an option. Not yet. I was determined to survive until the end, no matter what the cost.
"About time you woke up."
A small, familiar voice piped up, echoing in my head.
