‘More messed up than a prostitute whoring herself out.’

  That summed up my situation perfectly.

  Holding back a miserable sigh, I tried to coordinate my movements to the best of my ability. Even then, I staggered every few steps.

  How could I not?

  The snow wasn’t just deep; it was a white abyss conspiring to swallow me whole, making my already slim chances of survival nonexistent.

  ‘One… two… left… then right…’

  My balance was still awkward. I walked without any semblance of dignity, like a three-legged elk high on fentanyl.

  But even that was too generous.

  Grace and I? We weren’t just strangers—we were bitter enemies with restraining orders against each other.

  ‘Getting the hang of it… aren’t I?’

  The words came out like a prayer whispered by an atheist—half hopeful, half expecting divine retribution for daring to think things were improving.

  And why not be paranoid? This universe had already proven it possessed a sense of humor that made cosmic horror look like a comedy sketch.

  ‘Mnn? Nothing?’

  For once, my paranoia went unrewarded. The universe seemed too busy tormenting someone else to notice my slight jab.

  ‘Ha…’

  I could almost taste relief.

  Nothing catastrophic happened.

  No hell broke loose.

  Best of all, I hadn’t face-planted in the snow.

  Instead, I found myself making what could generously be called steady progress—‘steady’ being a relative term.

  They say adaptation is nature’s way of saying, “Deal with it or die.” They don’t mention that nature’s version of “dealing with it” involves equal parts humiliation and frozen agony.

  ‘Well, whatever. Who cares if it’s awkward, anyway?’

  Right.

  Awkward or not, I was moving forward. And in this frozen nightmare, that counted as a win.

  At least that’s what I kept telling myself between shivers and curses directed at whatever deity thought this was funny.

  Even through my internal pity party, I kept trudging forward. You know what? I felt a hint of pride.

  Rightfully so.

  I’d never been what you’d call resilient. I was the type who’d give up because it seemed like too much effort.

  So for me, maintaining forward momentum through this snow was like winning Olympic gold—if the Olympics were held in hell and all the other competitors had sensibly stayed home.

  Still, I tried not to get too full of myself. To not misinterpret my desperate shuffling as actual competence.

  For a moment, I even entertained the thought that some kid might handle this better than me

  ‘Haha. Ridiculous.’

  Even my internal voice dripped with sarcasm at that one.

  Trudging through snow wasn’t rocket science, but it certainly wasn’t child’s play.

  Especially not when you’re nerfed like I was.

  Yeah, nerfed.

  It felt like someone had opened my character settings and gleefully clicked every possible debuff.

  “......”

  I stared at my hands—these pathetically small appendages that looked like they’d snap if I tried to open a stubborn jar. Of course, they weren’t really mine.

  I was—or had been—a fully grown man.

  My current… situation?

  Well, uh…

  I was playing an unwilling tenant in some dead kid’s body.

  “......”

  Apparently, waking up in a frozen wasteland wasn’t enough of a punchline.

  No, the universe had to go full sitcom and stuff me into a child’s body, too.

  I had to learn how to coordinate limbs that felt like they belonged to a completely different species.

  And to really drive home the comedy? I only had one eye.

  Yeah, you heard that right.

  One. Single. Eye.

  I blinked—or winked—feeling the rough scratch of my makeshift eyepatch against the empty socket.

  That had been another fun surprise. At first, I thought my eyes were swollen shut from the cold. But no. After some rather unpleasant self-examination, I discovered the right one was just… gone.

  ‘Ah! Why is this happening? Really…’

  Actually… I had some idea why.

  Or at least, I thought I did.

  You see—

  A gust of wind chose that moment to slap me across the face as if to remind me that this was still happening.

  ‘As if I need any reminders.’

  I thought bitterly.

  My situation was miserable enough to be remembered throughout life—and beyond.

  Like a janitor cleaning a crime scene, the wind served one purpose—it swept away the snow in the air, giving me an unobstructed view of the sky.

  “.....!”

  And there they were.

  The “twelve” moons hanging in the sky like some celestial installation gone wrong, bathing the landscape in their eerie twilight.

  Twelve. Freaking. Moons.

  “Gulp…”

  You’d think after a while I’d get used to something like that. But nope.

  Every time I looked up, my remaining eye quivered as if it were trying to escape my skull.

  Each moon had its own unique gradient, but the snow primarily reflected green, thanks to the biggest bastard of them all—Moon Number Twelve.

  This thing made its siblings look like celestial runts. When I say big, I mean it dominated two-fifths of the visible sky.

  ‘Talk about otherworldly…’

  I couldn’t help but stare each time. No matter how often I’d seen it since arriving in this frozen hell, that green moon had a way of demanding attention.

  Each glance felt like déjà vu, which logically made about as much sense as everything else in this place.

  I mean, how could something so alien feel so familiar?

  But it did...

  I would have already descended into a full existential monologue if not for that damn wind acting like nature’s interrupt button.

  You see...

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  When I first saw this green monstrosity looming above, it triggered something—a memory. It was hazy and distorted, like trying to watch a movie through a beer bottle, but unmistakable.

  How could it not be?

  It was the last scene from my previous life's highlight reel.

  I remembered being drunk. Not your casual drunk, but the kind of hammered where you became fluent in three languages you’d never studied and best friends with a houseplant.

  It was late. Maybe early.

  Time gets fuzzy when you’re that far gone.

  I vaguely recall stumbling onto my balcony, clutching a bottle like it was keeping me alive. The sky was its usual urban color—a thick smog blanket doing its best to hide any hint of stars.

  But then... a break in the clouds. And there it was—the moon.

  Barely visible through the pollution, with a sickly green tint. Like the one currently looming over me, just… smaller. Way smaller. Like comparing a basketball to a tennis ball.

  I remembered... saying something.

  It's more like cursing at the sky, actually.

  What exactly? No clue. It was all a blur, like trying to read underwater while drunk. Which, come to think of it, I might have tried that same night.

  ‘Did I die?’

  Was that why I was here?

  I didn't know. I couldn't really tell.

  But I was sure I wished for something while yelling at the green-tinged moon.

  What I wished for? Don't know.

  Why was I screaming at a celestial body? Beats me.

  What happened before and after? Complete blank.

  But that feeling of frustration and those angry words echoed in my head even now, like a hangover that followed me across dimensions.

  The next thing I knew, everything went black.

  When I opened my eyes—well, eye—I was here. In this frozen wasteland, wearing a child’s body.

  Whatever drunk-me asked for, this sure as hell wasn't it.

  I’d bet my savings on that… if I still had savings. Or anything else from my previous life.

  “Haahh... Haahh...”

  I felt fatigued. No, scratch that. Fatigue is what you feel after a long day at work. This? This was like every cell in my body was staging a protest, complete with picket signs and strongly worded letters to management.

  This much snow would have been annoying but manageable in my original body, probably reaching mid-shin.

  But in this fun-sized vessel?

  It came up to my knees, turning what should have been a simple walk into an endurance event worthy of its own Olympic category: Synchronised Suffering.

  ‘Damn it. Why did they have to be so meticulous?’

  Bitterness welled up inside me like a geyser of spite.

  The god—or whatever cosmic jokester was running this show—had never granted my requests before. Never made my life easier when I actually needed it.

  But the one time I’m absolutely plastered, throwing a tantrum at the sky like a toddler denied candy?

  Instant body-snatching services include complementary frozen wasteland placement and bonus eye removal.

  I shook my head, trying to dislodge these thoughts before they drove me even crazier than I already was.

  ‘Let's keep moving.’

  ***

  Achoo—

  The situation had graduated from unbearable to whatever comes after unbearable. Super unbearable? Ultra-unbearable?

  My will was doing its best to mimic a melting ice cream cone.

  Hours had passed since I’d woken up in this discount body, and still no sign of anything resembling civilization, warmth, or basic mercy from the universe.

  Achoooo—

  Cold doesn't begin to describe it.

  I was freezing at a molecular level—the kind of cold that makes you question whether warmth even exists or was just a pleasant dream.

  My teeth chattered so violently that I sounded like a woodpecker having an existential crisis.

  ‘Oh god...’

  I was shivering with enough intensity to power a small city. If only I could hook myself up to a generator—at least then this suffering would serve some purpose.

  The tattered coat covering me might as well have been tissue paper for all the protection it offered. And bonus points: it reeked of tanning chemicals and rotting flesh.

  ‘Just amazing...’

  AAACHOOO—

  Another sneeze ripped through me like a miniature explosion, completely destroying what little balance I had. I performed an impromptu dance routine that would have made any drunk penguin proud.

  Thud!

  ‘Ow. Ow. Ow.’

  Pain zinged through my head, with special emphasis on the right side where my eye used to be.

  ‘What the fuck happened to it?’

  The mystery of the missing eye wasn't getting any clearer. But judging by the freshness of the wound, whatever happened was recent enough to make me grateful I wasn't around for the actual event.

  ‘Hnn...’

  As I lay there, I noticed something different. The makeshift earplugs—fashioned from torn clothing and desperate innovation—had come loose during my graceful descent.

  And then I heard it…

  [Hee-hee, you fell, Idiot!]

  That voice.

  The one I’d been trying so hard to pretend didn't exist.

  I called it Spooky…

  Not because I’m particularly creative with names, but because when it first spoke, it scared the living shit out of me.

  Like, literally.

  I nearly jumped straight out of this borrowed skin - which, given the circumstances, might have been an improvement.

  That's why I’d stuffed my ears in the first place.

  Actually, I hadn't expected it to work.

  Plugging my ears was pure desperation, like trying to stop a flood with a paper towel.

  But for some cosmic joke of a reason, it actually helped.

  ‘Thank god for small mercies.’

  Without that discovery, I might have already gone completely off the deep end instead of just paddling in the shallow end of insanity.

  Of course, the plugs didn't create perfect silence - Spooky still came through but muffled enough that I could pretend I was alone in this frozen landscape.

  [That's what you get for not watching where you’re going, Stooopid!]

  And now, with my earplugs gone, the floodgates had burst open.

  It was like having a hyperactive child, a sugar-rushed squirrel, and a malfunctioning radio all sharing space in my head—a never-ending stream of chatter, muttering, singing, crying, and laughing—mostly at my expense.

  ‘Fuck, it talks nonstop!’

  The voice kept going, switching between insults and what I could only describe as the most annoying form of sibling behavior ever invented.

  [I bet that hurts a lot! Idiot! Hehehehe….]

  Get the picture?

  ‘Oh, shut up!’

  I mentally grumbled, spitting snow out of my mouth like a broken snow cone machine.

  ‘Like you would do any better without depth perception.’

  That is a solid argument if I say so myself. The kind that would shut down any rational debate. But Spooky, like most children, had never signed up for the rules of rational debate.

  [Awww! Did the poor baby fall down…? Want you mommy? Want to cry?]

  [Go tell someone! Go tell!!]

  ‘This little…’

  [But wait! Who would you tell? Who who who?]

  [The grown-ups? The big people?]

  [Think they will listen?]

  [Think they will make it better?]

  [They won't. They never ever do.]

  "......”

  [Dumbass can’t speak~ Dumbass silent~ La~ la~ la~ la~ LAAAAA~]

  Its voice carved through my skull like a rusty cheese grater, each notes climbing higher until the final screech threatened to pop my remaining eye out of pure spite.

  Even then, I didn't bother responding. Past experience had taught me that engaging with Spooky was like trying to argue with an echo - pointless and guaranteed to give you a headache.

  ‘Ha....’

  I felt about as energetic as a sloth on sleeping pills.

  My fingers and toes had long since gone numb, presumably filing for independence from the rest of my body.

  I knew if I didn't get up soon...

  I'd become the world's most disappointed popsicle.

  [A popsicle, huuuh? Pop-si-cle! Pop! Si! Cle! What a funny word~!]

  [WHAT IS IT? WHAT IS IT? I WANNA KNOW!]

  [TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME TELL MEEEEE!]

  Even with death by freezing on the table, Spooky managed to find something to be excited about.

  ‘Go away! Let me relax…’

  I groaned, trying to swat at the voice in my head. About as effective as trying to punch a ghost, but it made me feel better.

  [Pop~si~cle! Pop~si~cle! Pop~! Pop~! Pop~!]

  ‘Please, just be quiet!’

  I begged, abandoning dignity in favor of peace.

  [Can't do~ Can't do~ Absolutely not~]

  Spooky continued its one-voice musical undeterred by my suffering—actually, probably encouraged by it.

  ‘Tsk... suit yourself. I don't care.’

  I clicked my tongue, feeling more defeated than tired.

  If Spooky had been physical, I would have introduced it to the concept of percussive therapy - right to its face. Child or not, some lessons need to be taught the old-fashioned way.

  But since I couldn't fulfill my fantasy of ghost-punching, I swallowed my rage like a freezing man eating snow for hydration - necessary but deeply unsatisfying.

  Spooky muttered something incoherent for a while, letting me enjoy a moment of reprieve. Though, it was short-lived.

  [Hey..?]

  ‘What now?’

  I was mentally prepared to throw hands with thin air - a battle plan that existed purely in my increasingly delusional mind.

  Meanwhile, in reality, I remained sprawled out like a discarded rag doll, making approximately zero effort to change my situation.

  My body was slowly transforming into an ice sculpture, but I couldn't summon the energy to care.

  Hell...

  It was already a miracle I'd made it this far with my premium one-eyed package deal. The makeshift eyepatch might have kept the empty socket from freezing solid, but every movement sent pain shooting through my skull like it was hosting its own fireworks show.

  [Ah ah ah! Are we planning to take a nap?!]

  ‘What?’

  [Nap nap! Planning to take a nap?]

  I wanted to scream. To unleash every profanity I'd ever learned and maybe invent some new ones.

  A nap? Here? Now?

  What kind of brain-frozen nonsense was that?

  But I bit my tongue. Kept my cool - pun absolutely not intended given my current situation.

  What was the point of arguing with the voice in my head? I was already crazy enough without starting a debate club in my skull.

  ‘Yeah, sure, it's nap time.’

  My mental voice dripped with sarcasm.

  ‘Let's just curl up in the snow and take a nice, long snooze. I'm sure that will end well.’

  [Yay yay YAAAY! Nap time in the fluffy snow! Nap time~ Nap time~]

  [Fluffy fluffy naptime~]

  Spooky cheered with all the wisdom of a lemming leading a conga line off a cliff.

  Either my sarcasm had gone right over its non-existent head, or it was choosing to interpret my words with the selective hearing of a cat ignoring its name.

  [We are gonna be the bestest popsicle ever! Whatever that is! Funny word, funny word!]

  There it was again - that "we" thing. Like we were some sort of twisted buddy comedy duo trapped in a frozen hell. Spooky and The One-Eyed Wonder: Winter Edition.

  ‘Tsk, whatever.’

  I had bigger problems than analyzing Spooky's pronoun preferences.

  [Pop~Si~Cle! Pop~si~cle! Such a silly word to be~! Silly! Childish!]

  As much as it pained me to admit it, Spooky's deranged nursery rhyme - combined with my recent intimate encounter with the snow - had helped crystallize my situation:

  ‘I've got two choices…’

  First choice.

  I could lie here and let the cold take me.

  Or...

  Second choice.

  I could struggle.

  Push through the pain, the cold, the exhaustion, and the perpetual commentary track in my head.

  ‘What should I do?’

  [Take a nap! Take a nap! Let's be the bestest pop-sicle!]

  [Would be fun! Would be fun!]

  ‘Alright.’

  [Less go! Less go! Bestest pop-sicle!]

  ‘Ah, no, not that....’

  The decision crystallized like frost on a window.

  ‘I’m passing on being the bestest pop-sicle....’

  [No! Why why why?]

  ‘Just not.’

  With a groan that refused to escape my throat - probably frozen in there somewhere - I forced myself up. I pushed against the snow as if it owed me money.

  ‘Let's get moving before we both turn into ice sculptures.’

  [NO! WHY WHY WHY!]

  [DON'T WE WANT TO BE THE BESTEST POPSICLE?]

  [NO FUN! NO FUN!]

  [WAAAAA! WE ARE NO… Fun?]

  Spooky whined, but beneath the theatrical protest, I caught something else. Relief? In a voice that existed only in my head?

  Was I hallucinating inside my hallucination now?

  Well, whatever.

  This is another item on the growing list of things that didn't make sense about this situation.

  ‘Too bad, kiddo....’

  I said, shaking my head with all the drama I could muster while half-frozen.

  ‘We've got places to be, things to do. Freezing to death is not on today's agenda.’

  I actually felt cool saying that. Which, given my current temperature, was quite an achievement. Pun intended.

  I readjusted my earplugs.

  ‘Now then…’

  Swaying like a drunk flamingo, my remaining eye locked onto the trail of footprints stretching out before me.

  Yes. Footprints.

  They belonged to the group that had left me—or the kid—behind.

  Of course, this was all according to Spooky's running commentary. For all I knew, I could be following tracks left by a herd of exceptionally well-organized yetis.

  ‘Gulp!’

  The thought terrified me.

  ‘Only if Spooky came clear about it…’

  That was another thing Spooky kept quiet about despite never shutting up about anything else.

  I couldn't even tell… if they were friends, family, or just fellow travelers who thought one-eyed kid was too much baggage to have and abandoned him.

  ‘Haa…’

  Well, whoever they were, their footprints were my only lead in this frozen wasteland. My breadcrumb trails out of this particular circle of hell.

  The only thing that kept me moving forward.

  My... only hope of survival in this frozen wasteland.

  Even if that hope was as thin as the air up here and twice as cold.