His existence was completely cut off from the life of this world, utterly out of place.
His complexion was so pale it was almost transparent, as if all blood and vitality had been drained from him.
A single glance was enough to stir an involuntary sense of death from the depths of one's soul,
as if he were a phantom who had snuck out of the Netherworld.
He wore a tight, black outfit that clung to his gaunt frame like a second skin,
outlining a silhouette that was chilling to the core.
His feet dangled limply,
the tips of his toes pointing toward the ground at an extremely unnatural angle, as if their sinews had been removed.
It was as though he was being pulled by some invisible force,
yet could plummet at any moment like a kite with a snapped string.
His arms hung limply at his sides, fingers slightly curled,
as if making one last struggle,
but they were bound tight by a powerful, formless force.
