Every day, the Black Sun appeared on time. As the days passed, the amount of time it hung in the sky clearly began to grow shorter and shorter. In contrast, the Twin Moons remained in the sky longer and longer.
A chill began to permeate the air. The clothes worn by the people passing by also grew thicker day by day.
The already withered, yellowing leaves on the branches began to fall one by one. In the end, the bare trees became a distinctive sight in the woods.
Whenever the wind blew, dry yellow leaves danced throughout the sky.
As time gradually passed, the fallen leaves eventually became part of the soil's fertilizer. They no longer danced, no longer swirled up.
"Has winter only just begun here?" One morning, the Black Sun above the town shone upon the earth. On the second floor of the inn, someone had opened a window halfway, and cold air continuously poured inside.
Romon, dressed in a loose robe, stood by the window. The wind lifted his slightly long hair, gently tossing it back. In his eyes were reflected the subtle changes in the town.
November here, just like elsewhere, marked the beginning of winter. Only, the time here came somewhat later than the time Romon had known before.
He had been here for more than three months, and only now had November arrived at a leisurely pace.
From the difference in time alone, Romon had no choice but to admit that the place he was in truly was not the continent where he had stayed before.
But if this was not that previous continent—or if he had changed worlds altogether—then where exactly was this place?
He had previously asked the innkeeper, the mayor, and quite a few other people.
As a result, not a