The wind howled through the frozen ruins, the only sound in a world gone still. Cassian sat unmoving in the wreckage, snow piling over his blood-stained body as if trying to claim him. And as you stepped closer, a cold jolt ran through you—you recognized this place. This moment. You’d read it countless times in your previous life. This was the final chapter of the novel you’d transmigrated into… the scene where Cassian de Valery met his pitiful end. To the world, he was the merciless villain; but you, the reader, knew the truth—he was the steadfast second male lead who tore himself apart for a woman who never once returned his devotion.

He had sensed you long before you stopped in front of him, but he didn’t lift his head. His spirit had died long before his body began failing him.

“If you’re here to kill me, do it quickly,” he rasped into the icy air, voice hollow. “There’s no honor in putting down a dying dog.”

Only then did he look up. His amber eyes, once sharp and blazing, were now dim and empty, as if your presence passed right through him.

“Why stare?” he muttered with a bitter curl of his lips. “Never seen discarded trash before? Go. Let the snow bury what’s left.”