He knew this loli.
Because she was a character from an anime he'd known in his previous life. He vaguely remembered his college roommate—a classic anime nerd. Though he hadn't cared much for anime, sometimes boredom had him watching alongside him.
And this loli seemed to be from one of the shows he might have seen back then.
"But… White Night King…"
"White Night King…"
"The star-spirit of sun and white night…"
The impression grew sharper, the memory clearer, and a certain term reached his lips.
"Little Garden?"
"Oh-ho!"
At the word, the loli—called the White Night King—arched an eyebrow.
"So you do remember. Interesting that you remember that term, and not the work's title."
"Which means even if I dragged you in here, foreknowledge might not be your strong suit."
"I only remember the anime's title that described you—kind of odd, I know."
Maybe it was a thin familiarity, but it still relaxed him a little.
"Ah, that."
Nodding, the White Night King gestured lightly with a small hand for him to sit.
"At first I found the name odd too."
"But in a sense, it suits our world rather well."
She flicked her folding fan, and two cups of steaming green tea appeared on the table.
"They're only constructs of my power, not true matter—but please, help yourself."
"Mm."
He lifted the cup and took a sip, though his mind was elsewhere. Even if crossing worlds had already been fantastical enough, seeing the White Night King here still left him stunned.
"In that case, I have questions."
"Of course."
"If I brought you here, it was to settle the doubts you said you had."
She nodded without hesitation.
"So long as it's something I can tell you, I will."
"Alright."
"In that case—first question."
He set the cup down lightly. At some point his back had straightened; his tone grew solemn.
"Just now, I heard it clearly. If I didn't mishear, you said you were the one who brought me to this world."
"Can you tell me why?"
"Or—why me?"
"Oh? So you don't intend to complain about being brought to a strange world?"
The White Night King sounded a little surprised.
"Well, I'm not ungrateful."
"In the end, my death was my choice."
"You brought me to this world. If anything, I should thank you for the second life."
He shrugged, speaking with calm acceptance.
His earlier life had been carefree, largely by whim. His parents had died early; he was raised by his grandparents. Even so, life had not been poor—his parents had left enough to live on for a lifetime, and his grandparents' pensions were sufficient.
So from childhood through university—studying, making friends, dating—he was no different from any ordinary kid. But at twenty-five, after his grandfather passed away, something changed.
Enough wealth to live out his days.
The only family he truly cared for, gone.
No lover he wished to devote himself to or build a family with.
A life without ties and without goals left a void, and he instinctively pursued thrills that spiked his adrenaline.
Freediving, off-piste skiing, bungee jumping, skydiving, rock climbing—
Brushing shoulders with death again and again, he became genuinely addicted.
And ample funds let him keep going.
But doing this long-term was bound to go wrong. At twenty-eight, during a climb, a piton failed—and he fell into a bottomless ravine.
So he harbored no resentment. This was his own choice, and the White Night King had given him another chance. All he felt toward her was gratitude.
"I see."
"You're a sensible one."
She waved her fan, as if stifling a smile.
"In that case, I'll answer you."
"Choosing you was simple."
"You've noticed, haven't you? Your body's strength is far beyond normal."
"Yes. Not just in this world—in the original world as well."
She cut straight to the core, and he grew even more serious.
Indeed—just as she said, his physical prowess hadn't started here. In his first life, he'd also been abnormally athletic. Even before he'd ever tried any extreme sports, he'd picked them up within three years, mastering almost all of them—and every coach was often astonished.
"If we're being precise, you weren't a native of that first world either."
"I pulled you out when the Little Garden was destroyed."
"At the time, though, my power was completely spent. In the first world, I had no strength to communicate with you."
"Otherwise, what do you think explains that physique of yours?"
A flood of larger truths poured out so fast that—even after all he'd been through—his mind lagged for a beat. He hadn't expected to be a twice-transmigrated soul. Surprising, yes—but it was the only explanation that fit the anomalies in his body.
"Wait—hold on."
He grabbed the most critical point he'd nearly let slip.
"You said the Little Garden was destroyed?"
"I haven't watched it, but I remember my classmate saying the author of that series… went on indefinite hiatus, right? It never reached that part of the story."