Don't Eat Me, I'm Not Tasty!

Regret was never a pretty word, especially when you were the one living it.

The trembling figure beneath the thin duvet, drenched in cold sweat, was evidence enough.

If there was still any doubt, one could simply ask Xion about the legitimacy of it all.

Xion wanted to reverse time and smack himself. What had been so fascinating about the broken town, about the silent air that swished past him as if alive?

The wind howled, rattling the window. Yet, he trembled more than the wooden frame.

Xion, being a medical student, hardly ever believed in any religious stuff. If anything, he despised it, greatly so after learning the reason his parents resented him. And he was not someone who hated things easily.

But that belief had hinged on the assumption that he had not been magically transmigrated into this medieval world.

He had met a literal soul after dying! How could he disregard ghosts now?