Nero came to with a sound caught halfway between a gasp and a choke.
His back pressed against something soft—soft enough to cushion his fall, but firm enough to remind him it wasn't meant for comfort. His fingers curled around the surface automatically.
Paper.
He opened his eyes.
A dim, steady glow lit the small circular chamber he sat in. The walls weren't metallic, tiled, or carved stone—they were layered entirely with sheets of paper, all pinned in uneven rows. Some hung loose like wilted leaves. Others overlapped in chaotic stacks.
Nero pushed himself up, breathing softly.
There were drawings everywhere.
Childlike.Made with the shaky hand of someone still amateur.
Stick figures.Cylinders, lines, shapes repeating again and again, growing more uncertain the more he looked.
Nero's throat tightened.
This time, he didn't call out.No frantic "Helia!"No panicked shouting.
He stood slowly and walked toward the closest wall.
A tiny drawing caught his eye—a boy in a small containment pod. The lines were shaky. The corner of the page was smudged as if the artist's hand trembled.
The next drawing showed the pod cracked.The one after that showed the boy lying outside of it.Broken.Half-finished.
Nero felt his breath grow heavy. "These are…"
A voice answered from behind him. "Memories."
Nero turned sharply.
A boy stood near the center of the room, small and barefoot. He wasn't cracked. Not fragmented. Not distorted.
Just… young. Maybe eight.
Nero didn't step back. Fear fluttered in his chest, but he didn't let it take over this time.
"Are you him?" Nero asked quietly. "The boy I saw before?"
The child shook his head. "Only one part."
Nero swallowed. "Which part?"
"The beginning," the boy whispered. "Before everything hurt."
The room seemed to shrink around them—only slightly, but enough to make Nero aware he wasn't meant to be here long.
He took a careful step closer. "Where is this place?"
"My room," the boy said. "The one they made for me."
Nero glanced at the drawings again. "Why?" he asked. "Why fill it with these?"
The boy's eyes softened in a way Nero didn't expect. "So I wouldn't forget myself."
Nero felt a sting of sympathy—or grief, he wasn't sure which. "Do you… remember everything?"
"Only the pieces of memories that stayed," the boy replied. "The other parts took the rest."
The air shifted.
Nero felt a tremor of guilt twisting inside him—unearned, or maybe deeply earned. He didn't know yet.
He sat down slowly, choosing not to stand over the child. "You said I have something that belongs to you."
The boy looked at Nero carefully. Not angry. Not jealous. Saddened.
"You carry my core," he said. "The one that didn't work for me."
"I didn't know. I didn't even know it wasn't mine."Nero replied.
"I know," the boy said. "But the others… the ones outside… they don't know how to understand that."
Nero looked at the drawings again—there were dozens showing two figures instead of one.
A short boy.And a taller boy.Sometimes they were holding hands.Sometimes sitting side by side.Sometimes simply standing together.
"What are these?" Nero whispered.
"A future I desried," the boy said. "A brother."
Nero's breath caught. "Brother…?"
"Someone to grow with," the boy murmured. "Not someone to replace me.But someone by may side."
Nero felt something sting behind his eyes.
"I didn't choose to replace you," Nero said, voice breaking slightly. "I didn't even know you existed."
"I know."The boy's voice was barely a whisper."That's why I'm not angry."
Silence settled—quiet but heavy, like the room itself was listening.
Nero sat there, unsure how to respond to something so gentle in a place so cruel.
The boy's expression shifted. "But you need to understand something."
"What?" Nero asked.
The paper walls rustled softly.
"He's coming."
Nero stiffened. "Who?"
Before the child could answer, the walls shivered violently. The drawings rippled like a wave of wind hit them, although there was no wind.
The air temperature dropped sharply.
Paper peeled from the walls—page by page, sheet by sheet—lifting upward like snow caught in an invisible storm.
The boy's face showed fear."Hide," he whispered. "He can't see you with me here."
"Who?!" Nero demanded.
But the boy didn't answer.
He simply stepped backward—and vanished.
Not in a flash.Not in a distortion.
He flickered out like someone erasing a drawing with trembling fingers.
Nero turned just as a tall shadow entered the room—calm steps, no rush, no aggression.
The Time Master.
But this time, Nero didn't freeze.
He didn't back away.
He planted his feet firmly and faced him.
"You're everywhere," Nero said breathlessly. "Every time I learn anything, you show up."
The Time Master studied him quietly.
"Because your truth and I are closer than you think," he said. "And because you insist on looking for answers I have tried to spare you."
"I don't want sparing," Nero snapped. "I want the truth."
The Time Master's expression changed—very subtly, but Nero saw it.
Not annoyance.Not anger.
Recognition.
"You are beginning," he said softly, "to sound like him."
Nero's heart thudded hard. "…Like who?"
Before he could answer, the paper walls split down the center—torn open by force, not time.
Helia burst into the room, breathless, gripping a weapon Nero had never seen before.
"NERO!" she shouted. "Get away from him!"
The Time Master turned his head slightly, acknowledging her without expression.
"You found him faster than I expected," he said.
"Shut up you du*ss."
Helia didn't hesitate.She grabbed Nero's wrist and pulled him behind her, eyes blazing.
"You think I'll let you manipulate him?" she spat."You don't get to stand there and pretend you're guiding him."
Nero stared at her—surprised by the raw fury in her voice.
The Time Master didn't move, but the air between them tightened.
"This is not manipulation," he said calmly. "This is preparation."
"It's trauma," Helia said. "And I'm done watching you drop him into it."
The Time Master tilted his head. "If you deny what he is—"
"I'm not denying anything!" Helia snarled."I'm deciding what he needs first. And what he needs isn't YOU."
Something shifted behind the Time Master.
A faint mechanical tremor.
Helia whipped around, eyes widening. "Nero—behind him!"
Nero saw it too.
A metallic shape crawling into the room.Spidery limbs.Glowing fractured eyes.A broken chassis stitched with static.
A corrupted C-Unit.
Its gaze fixed on Nero instantly.
The Time Master stepped aside—not helping, not stopping, simply moving as if watching something inevitable unfold.
Nero's pulse spiked.
Helia tightened her grip. "We run. Now."
And for the first time in a long time—
Nero didn't fall.He didn't get pulled.He didn't get dragged into another nightmare.
He grabbed Helia's hand first.
"Let's go."
Together, they ran.
The C-Unit lunged after them.The Time Master didn't chase.But his voice echoed behind them.
"Your first choice," he murmured."Remember it."