I didn't sleep.
Airi's message replayed in my head again and again: "I think I remember everything now."
Every word felt like a blade. If she truly remembered, then Ren's warning wasn't a lie. The Cycle's anchor — the key to this endless rebirth — might be the girl I once died for.
When morning came, the world looked normal again. Students chatted, bells rang, teachers lectured. But beneath that surface, I could feel it — the invisible threads connecting us to something ancient and cruel.
At lunch, I found Airi waiting on the rooftop. The same place where everything had started.
Her eyes were different now — clearer, sharper, filled with something that didn't belong to a high school girl.
"Ryo," she said softly. "I remember it all."
I didn't speak.
"The night you died," she continued, "Kaito's family wasn't acting on their own. There was someone else there — someone in a black coat. He said it was all part of the Cycle."
My fists clenched. "So they used us. Played with our lives for their experiment."
Airi nodded. "I tried to stop them, but the moment I turned against them, they killed me too. And then… I woke up here."
Her voice trembled. "Every night since, I've dreamed of that fire. I thought it was just guilt, but now I know — it's memory."
The wind blew between us, carrying the smell of rain and rust.
"Airi," I said slowly. "Ren told me something — that you're the anchor. That you're the reason the loop keeps restarting."
She froze.
"I don't want to believe it," I continued, "but if it's true—"
"Then you'll kill me?" she said, her voice breaking.
The silence stretched.
Finally, I said, "No. I'll destroy the Cycle itself."
Her tears glistened, but she smiled — small, fragile, and real. "Then I'll help you. Just like before."
That afternoon, we skipped class and went to the abandoned industrial district — where Kaito's family once ran their secret operations.
The air there was heavy, almost alive. Rusted machines stood like tombstones. Broken windows let in shafts of pale light.
We searched one of the warehouses, following faint etchings on the walls — the same three-lined circle carved in different sizes.
"This is it," Airi whispered. "The Cycle's mark."
Near the back, under a collapsed beam, I found a steel hatch hidden under dust. A biometric scanner blinked faintly beside it.
"Help me move this," I said.
Together we cleared the debris. I pressed my palm to the scanner. To my shock, it turned green.
Access granted.
The hatch hissed open.
Below us stretched a spiral staircase leading into darkness.
We descended into what looked like an underground lab — rows of broken monitors, shattered glass tubes, and flickering lights. Dust covered everything, but faint humming still echoed from deeper inside.
On one of the walls, faded words glowed faintly:
PROJECT: CYCLE INITIATIVE – SUPERVISED BY TANAKA CORPORATION
My blood turned to ice.
Airi looked at me in disbelief. "Tanaka… that's your family name."
I stumbled back, heart hammering. "No. My father—he ran a tech company, yes, but he would never—"
She pointed at a photograph half-buried under rubble.
It was a research team picture. My father stood in the center, smiling proudly. Behind him — the man in black.
'Dr. Hiroshi Tanaka – Chief Engineer, Cycle Development Program.'
Everything inside me cracked.
"They used my family," I whispered. "They built the machine that started all this."
Airi touched my arm gently. "Then it wasn't your fault. It was theirs."
I shook my head. "No. It means the Cycle began with me."
We moved deeper, past corridors lined with glass pods. Inside each one was a body — or what looked like one. Some were human, others twisted, half-formed. Failed copies.
On a terminal near the center of the room, a single screen still flickered. I wiped the dust away and pressed a key.
A video began to play.
My father appeared, older, exhausted, his voice trembling.
"Cycle Initiative – Test Log 247. The experiment succeeded. Subject R-01 shows stable memory transfer. But repeated exposure creates temporal instability."
The image glitched, then returned.
"We underestimated the psychological strain. Subjects develop vengeful fixations, emotional loops that repeat endlessly. We tried to reset them, but it only made things worse. If anyone finds this—end the project. Destroy the anchor before the loop consumes everything."
The screen went dark.
I stood frozen. My own name — R-01.
Airi covered her mouth. "Ryo… you were the first subject."
It all made sense now. My death, my rebirth, Ren's words, the stranger's warnings. I wasn't a survivor. I was the origin.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed. A siren wailed. The door behind us sealed shut.
A voice echoed through the speakers — smooth, calm, familiar.
"You've gone too far, Ryo."
Ren's voice.
"That facility was supposed to stay buried. Now The Cycle will have to reset sooner than expected."
I grabbed Airi's hand. "Run!"
We sprinted through the maze of corridors, alarms blaring. The floor trembled — the structure collapsing around us. Sparks rained from the ceiling.
At the exit, Ren appeared, standing in the doorway with his black coat fluttering.
"You should've left it alone," he said.
"Why?" I shouted. "Why keep repeating this nightmare?"
"Because," he replied, "humanity isn't ready for peace. The Cycle exists to study suffering—to predict and prevent it. Your pain has meaning."
I drew my knife. "Then I'll make sure it ends with me."
He sighed. "You really haven't changed."
We clashed again, faster than before. The air filled with the sound of steel and fire. Sparks lit the shadows.
Airi screamed as the ceiling began to crumble.
Ren grabbed my wrist, forcing the knife toward my throat. "If you break the Cycle, you'll erase everyone. Even her."
"I'd rather erase eternity than live a lie!"
I twisted, slammed him against the wall, and plunged the blade into his shoulder.
Ren gasped, then smiled faintly. "Good… You're finally ready."
Before I could speak, he pressed a device into my hand — a small metal cube glowing faintly blue.
"Find the Core," he whispered. "Destroy it. Only then will the loop end."
Then the floor gave way. The world shattered into light.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying outside the warehouse, the night sky spinning above me. Airi was beside me, bruised but alive.
The warehouse burned in the distance, flames devouring the last of the lab.
In my hand, the cube still pulsed faintly — like a heartbeat.
"The Core," I murmured.
Airi touched my cheek. "What is it?"
"The key," I said. "To ending everything."
She looked at me, eyes filled with fear and hope. "Then what do we do now?"
I stared at the burning ruins.
"We finish what we started."