It was an average day for Snowy, our less-than-average protagonist. Unlike other novel heroes who are strong, smart, or even brave, Snowy was a bit of a mess. He was mediocre at everything he tried, except gaming—he was decent at that. And, well, let's not forget his bad habit of glancing at every girl's chest that crossed his path. He wasn't a total creep, just your average lazy, clueless guy who was better at virtual battles than real-life responsibilities.

Snowy lived alone in a rundown apartment in New York, his parents off somewhere across the globe, living their lives while he tried to figure out his. After another exhausting day at school—where he did the absolute bare minimum—Snowy dragged himself back to his dingy apartment. He dumped his bag on the couch and flopped onto his bed, ready for his usual post-school nap. Hours passed, and he barely moved. That is, until a rancid, rotting smell hit him like a brick wall.

Half-awake, Snowy groaned and covered his nose, annoyed but too lazy to really care. It smelled like something had died upstairs. The stench was unbearable, and his curiosity (or stupidity) got the better of him. Grumbling, he stumbled out of his room and headed up to his neighbor's apartment, hoping they'd do something about it.

The door was slightly open.

Instead of knocking like a sensible person, Snowy pushed the door open and walked right in. "Hello? Anyone here? Just a heads-up, it stinks in here. You might wanna do something about that."

No response. Snowy ventured deeper inside, wrinkling his nose. He turned the corner into the living room and immediately regretted it. There, on the floor, lay a body—rotting, putrid, and undeniably dead. Snowy's stomach churned, and he gagged, his dinner threatening to make a return.

"Oh god…what the hell…" he muttered, his eyes darting around the room. That's when he saw him—a man, sitting casually on the couch, bloodstains decorating his clothes, completely unfazed by the gruesome scene.

"Didn't your parents teach you to knock?" the man said calmly, his voice smooth and eerily friendly.

Snowy's heart pounded in his chest. he stammered, finally realizing he had walked straight into a killer's den. His instincts screamed at him to run, but before he could make a move, a knife sliced through the air, stabbing into his ankle. Snowy hit the floor, screaming in pain as he tried to crawl away.

"Next time, remember to knock," the killer said, planting his boot on Snowy's head. With one swift motion, the knife plunged into Snowy's neck. The world around him darkened as he bled out, the life draining from his body.

---

One Week Later

The apartment building's owner was making their usual rounds, collecting rent. When Snowy didn't answer his door, they shrugged it off. But when they tried the upstairs apartment—the one with the missing rent—they decided to let themselves in.

What they found made them scream.

Snowy's body, now decomposing, lay next to another victim. The police arrived hours later, investigating the double homicide. Snowy was dead, his life cut short by a random encounter with a madman. His parents, upon hearing the news, were devastated. Snowy's father, a hardworking farmer, collapsed from the shock.

The killer? He had vanished, leaving nothing behind but his "art."

---

But is this the end of Snowy's story?

No, it's just the beginning.

Snowy's soul drifted in the void, waiting for a new body to inhabit. He had no overpowered abilities, no cheat codes for life. Just one skill: Reincarnation. Every time he dies, he'll be reborn in a new body, cursed to repeat life without ever truly escaping death.

"Isn't that just immortality?" you ask.

Not quite. His body can die, his mind can break, but his soul is trapped in an endless loop. He'll keep coming back, always at the mercy of fate, with no guarantees of strength, wealth, or happiness.

Snowy, your new journey begins now.