The God of Winter hates humans.
To be precise, he hates the wickedness of humans.
Perhaps that is why.
He made up his mind a long time ago.
Whether it be the happiness of the wicked,
Or the misfortune of the righteous—
Without distinguishing between any of it,
He would simply erase it all into white.
And so, he imprisoned spring, summer, and autumn,
Sentencing the human world to an eternal winter.
That is why the world is always winter now.
One day,
A black visitor arrived
In his white world.
Over the snow that covered the ground without a single gap, things like black ash would scatter.
He raised his head and looked at the visitor with a temperature so vivid that the word 'cold' was insufficient.
A familiar face.
Memory flows through the seasons
To a time when this world was not yet this cold.
Back then, there was one thing he looked upon without freezing it.
A child who was not afraid of winter.
That is why he couldn't erase that child.
No, perhaps he chose not to erase her.
And now—
That child has returned to the same spot.
Under the name of the God of Death.