Lucian stepped through the school gates, the weight of the morning pressing on him like a damp cloak.
The sun was pale, struggling through the haze of the city, and students clustered in groups, laughing, shouting, trading gossip that meant nothing to him.
Milo came running, phone in hand and eyes wide.
"You won't believe this," Milo said, nearly breathless. "Some guy—same year as us— died on the escalator. Look!"
Milo shoved the phone toward him. Lucian recoiled, a sharp knot twisting in his stomach.
"No," he said, stepping back. "I don't want to see that."
Milo blinked. "Come on, it's crazy. People are talking about it."
Lucian shook his head. How can anyone find this entertainment? His gaze flicked over the screen.
The video showed the boy stumbling, slipping, the scream caught and amplified by the crowd.
People were laughing in the comments, sharing it as if it were a joke. The sight made his stomach churn.
He thought of the countless clips he had refused to watch, of death treated as spectacle, of people profiting off someone else's collapse.
He remembered the day his parents died.
A crash, metal twisted like paper as screams filled the air. Someone had recorded it from across the street, made money, and posted it online.
I hated it then. I hate it now.
He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. The memory wasn't just pain; it was betrayal like the world showing its teeth and spitting at him.
Milo didn't notice the tension. "Look, it's not even that bad—"
"I said no." Lucian's voice was calm but firm. Milo's enthusiasm faltered.
Lucian turned away, letting the chatter of the hallway blur around him.
I'm weak. Everything about me is fragile. He adjusted the strap of his backpack, a hollow ache in his chest reminding him of all he had lost.
But there was Clementine. His sister. The only constant, the one thing that tethered him to the world that kept breaking.
Classes passed in a blur.
Milo continued to chatter, sending occasional glances at Lucian, but Lucian barely responded. By the final bell, Milo grinned. "Mall later?"
Lucian shook his head, voice low. "I can't. I need to help Clementine. She's waiting for me."
Milo shrugged. "Suit yourself." He left, leaving Lucian to navigate the streets alone.
The walk home was quiet, broken only by the occasional horn or bark of a dog. Lucian's thoughts drifted, cataloging the mundane and the heavy—the groceries they would need, the dishes waiting, and the books Clementine had left scattered on the table.
The apartment smelled faintly of last night's dinner, a mix of garlic and oil and the faint mustiness of an old building. Clementine bounced toward him as he entered.
"Lucian! Guess what happened today?" she said, her voice bright, too bright.
He forced a smile. "Let's get something to eat first."
She frowned but nodded. "Okay… we had a substitute, and she was super strict. And Jamie, he—he got caught cheating—"
Lucian listened, nodding absently, slicing vegetables for a quick stir-fry. The rhythm of preparing dinner was comforting, grounding him in the ordinary.
"Do you want noodles or rice?" he asked, stirring the pot.
"Rice. With extra sauce," Clementine said, plopping into a chair, eyes wide as she recounted more stories from school.
The day continued in routine: laughter, light complaints about homework, the clatter of utensils.
Then came the sound that shattered it—the door crashing inward.
A man, face hidden under a ski mask, lunged into the room. Before Lucian could react, Clementine was shoved to the ground.
"Money, now."
Lucian froze for half a heartbeat, then rushed forward. "Don't—"
The man swung, a warning. "Now! Or she dies!"
Clementine whimpered, clutching her knees. Lucian's mind raced. The groceries, the vegetables, the mundane safety of the apartment—all vanished under the raw threat.
This is real. It's not a video, and obviously, not a memory.
He reached for anything heavy, his eyes scanning the small kitchen. The man brandished a knife, breath sharp in the stale air. Lucian's heart pounded.
"Please… take what you want," he said, voice even, controlled. "Just don't—"
Clementine's eyes were wide, searching his face for a plan, for reassurance. Lucian's hand hovered over a metal pan.
I can't let him touch her.
The man stepped closer, voice harsh. "Cash now."
Lucian swallowed, forcing his pulse down, thoughts sharpening. Every instinct screamed at him. But the world outside the door was nothing compared to what was here, in this moment.
Clementine whimpered again. Lucian took a slow breath. "You want money? Fine. Take it. Just… leave her."
The man smirked, reaching into Lucian's pocket. Lucian's muscles tensed, ready to act.
It's just the beginning.
The apartment felt smaller, air thicker.
Lucian's mind raced, not with panic, but with calculation. He couldn't let fear rule.
He tightened his grip on the pan.
If anyone dies here, it won't be her.
The man's hand trembled slightly, the gun glinting under the flickering ceiling light.
Lucian froze. He wanted to move, to fight, but fear dug into his limbs like chains.
Clementine sobbed behind him, voice trembling. "Lucian… please…"
His body screamed to run. His instincts told him to hide, to give up everything just to keep breathing. He was a coward, and he knew it.
But Clementine was there. The only person left.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to stand between her and the gun. "I said—don't touch her."
The man snorted, finger twitching on the trigger. "You? You think you can stop me?"
Lucian's hands shook. He grabbed the frying pan again, sweat slicking his palms. You can't win. You'll die. His own mind hissed the truth.
But another voice pushed through it.
If someone has to die, let it be me.
He lunged.
BANG!
The shot echoed through the room like thunder. Pain exploded in his shoulder.
"Agh!" He staggered but didn't fall. His vision blurred, his chest heavy with adrenaline.
"Stay down!" the robber shouted.
Lucian didn't. He swung the pan, catching the man's arm with a dull clang!
The gun clattered across the floor. He moved again, desperate with blood soaking his shirt.
BANG! Another shot tore through his side. The heat burned, then turned cold.
He gasped, legs buckling.
"Lucian!"
But Clementine screamed his name, and somehow that gave him strength. He lunged once more, slamming the man into the counter.
The robber cursed, grappling with him. They struggled, crashing into the table, knocking dishes to the floor with sharp crash! clang! thud!
Lucian's arm went numb. His lungs wheezed, but he didn't stop.
The man reached for the fallen gun, but Lucian bit his hand, kicked, shoved. He did all in desperation and instinct. You won't touch her.
BANG!
Another flash. Pain bloomed in his chest.
He couldn't feel his fingers anymore. But in that moment, he pushed with everything he had left, slamming the robber's head against the floor.
Until the man stopped moving.
Silence filled the room. Only the sound of Lucian's ragged breathing remained.
He slumped to his knees, with lood pooled beneath him. Clementine crawled forward, crying.
"Lucian! No! Don't close your eyes!"
He looked at her. Her cheeks streaked with tears, eyes wild with terror. But she was alive. That was all that mattered.
He smiled faintly, coughing blood. "You're… okay, right?"
"Don't talk! I called for help! They're coming!"
He wanted to believe her. The world spun slowly as the edges of his vision dimming. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, their pitch fading in and out like he was underwater.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered. "I couldn't… be stronger."
Clementine shook her head violently. "You were! You saved me!"
He wanted to reach out, to touch her hair like he always did when she cried. But his arm wouldn't move.
He knew he was going to die.
The door burst open as paramedics rushed in. Their hands pressed against his wounds, shouting something he couldn't follow.
Then everything started to fade.
Her face was the last thing he saw.
Clementine's terrified, crying face.
It was enough.
If can't lose her, I'd rather lose myself.
The pain dulled, fading into something distant.
He let go.
Darkness embraced him. There was no pain now, just peace.
So this is death.
He floated, detached from everything, thoughts scattering into the void. There was no sound except his slow, fading heartbeat.
Then—
["A lone broken man sacrificed himself to save his precious sister."]
["A broken son sacrificed himself to save his precious sister."]
["An unknown being sacrificed himself to save his precious sister."]
[Lucian Wrenford Has Obtained The Death Loop System.]
The words appeared in his mind, glowing white against the black.
What…? His thoughts flickered like weak flames. System? What does that—
[You Will Be Transferred To Vorhalla.]
He felt something pull him, like invisible chains wrapping around his soul. The darkness twisted, stretching into light.
"No, wait—what's happening?" he tried to say, but no voice came out. The light became blinding, swallowing everything.
He fell through something that wasn't space, wasn't time. His body felt like mist as his senses started tearing apart and stitching back together.
Then, he felt—
Wind?
Lucian's eyes snapped open.
He lay on the ground, surrounded by towering trees and thick mist curling between the roots. His shirt was clean.
He blinked, chest heaving. "What…"
His voice was different and so was the body formation. This wasn't him.
The forest was silent except for the whisper of wind.
He pushed himself up slowly, trembling.
"Where… am I?"
In the distance, a faint, ghostly bell rang once.
Lucian turned toward the sound.
And for the first time, he realized, he wasn't home anymore.