The lowest caste of an ancient civilization: thief.
‘……Has he lost his mind?’
A thief……
I couldn’t be more displeased.
A kid who grumbled even if you piled the world’s treasures into his arms—thief? A thief?
For fuck’s sake, after all the way I lifted you up and lived worshipping you.
Even if he fell into the yoke of mortality, the stature of a name bound to the soul does not disappear. As a result, whatever life he lived,
it was only right that Jioh’s name would remain and continue.
Yet even having that fated name attached had been difficult in his second life. No matter how late he came to find it.
‘You think it’s easy for me to pass through the cycle of reincarnation! Damn it!’
Fine, fine.
It’s my fault.
There’s no way out. That’s how petty and messed up Jioh’s second life was.
King, my ass. Winter had practically resigned himself to this life.
He simply spent his time watching Jioh live breathlessly, turbulently, laughing and mixing with people at the very bottom.
Which, well…… wasn’t all that bad.