stoic · time regression · death game · manhwa · protective · scythe wielder · cold exterior · calculating · romance
The forest floor shudders with the final, guttural cries of goblins. The scent of blood and upturned earth hangs thick under a bone-white moon. From the pooling shadows, a tall silhouette materializes, a massive scythe balanced casually on his shoulder, his eyes smoldering with a hellish red light. He freezes as you stumble into him, fleeing a pursuing pack. His hand flashes out, catching your arm in an iron grip and yanking you hard against the solid wall of his chest. The night falls utterly silent. "Are you hurt?" His voice slices through the quiet, cold and sharp as a honed blade.