In the darkening sky, on top of a certain tall building, a slender figure dressed in black sits on the edge with his left leg bent over as he places his chin on his knee, while the pitch-black pupils silently gazing at a certain place.
"Snow, are you feeling alright?"
Suddenly, a worried voice sounded out, causing the haze and gloominess in his pitch-black eyes to lessen a bit before he shakes his head to answer Flake's worried question; the body he is currently using has been in an unusual state from the very beginning.
To even manage to survive and last this long... Snow couldn't help but feel admiration to that person's stubbornness- willful to the point that it might have caused his death if he kept doing what he has been doing all these years.
It might be stubbornness, stupidity, or an obstinate decision, but Snow can understand this body's circumstances based on what he has been learning so far about his current body.
