I opened my eyes.
Again.
My body was already positioned at the base of the staircase, like a puppet forced back onto its mark.
But this time… I had time.
Time to think.
Time to feel.
Time to break.
I collapsed forward before I could even take a step, my knees slamming against the cold stone as my hands followed, trembling violently. My breathing came out uneven—ragged, unstable—like my lungs had forgotten their purpose.
My gaze stayed fixed on the floor.
Empty.
"Why…?"
The word barely formed in my mind, dissolving into something heavier.
"Why, when everything was going well… did it still end like that?"
My fingers curled against the ground, nails scraping uselessly against the stone.
"This damn corridor… it won't let me leave."
A pause.
A realization.
Something darker.
"Then I'll stop trying to escape the normal way."
Slowly… I lifted my head.
My eyes met the stairs.
Then my group.
And something inside me… shifted.
"If I can't escape…"
My jaw tightened.
"I'll destroy this place."
The thought didn't feel insane.
It felt… logical.
Necessary.
I pushed myself up, forcing my shaking body to stand. Every muscle protested, every breath burned, but I ignored all of it.
"Let's go," I said, my voice low, distant. "We need to move. Staying here won't change anything."
I didn't wait for a response.
I started climbing.
They followed.
Of course they did.
They always did.
At the top, I turned immediately and pushed open the library door.
That place again.
Books. Shelves. Knowledge.
Useless.
But this time… it had a purpose.
"Go inside," I said. "I have an idea."
A lie.
A terrible one.
I had nothing.
No plan.
No certainty.
Only desperation barely held together by will.
I could feel it in my voice—the cracks, the instability. My expression betrayed me completely. Sweat clung to my skin, my hands trembled uncontrollably, and every breath felt too fast… too shallow.
They noticed.
Of course they noticed.
But they still listened.
"Search the books," I continued, forcing the words out. "There has to be something here… something about how to escape."
Silence.
They looked at me.
Not convinced.
Not reassured.
Alya and Minho didn't move.
"Do you want us to go with you?" one of them asked.
"No."
Too fast.
Too cold.
The word cut through the air before I could soften it.
They lowered their gaze.
And obeyed.
They walked into the library.
All of them.
One by one.
Trusting me.
That trust twisted inside my chest like a blade.
"I'm not doing this because you're a burden…"
I turned away from them.
"I'm doing this… to protect you."
Not from the corridor.
From me.
Because what I was about to do…
…would have consequences.
Severe ones.
The moment the last of them crossed the threshold, I ran.
No hesitation.
No looking back.
I ran as if something was chasing me.
Maybe something was.
My legs screamed in protest almost instantly, fatigue crashing into me like a wave I couldn't outrun. My lungs burned, my vision blurred slightly—but I forced my body forward.
Faster.
Further.
Until I reached it.
The intersection.
The closest thing this place had to a "center."
I stopped there, chest heaving, heart slamming violently against my ribs.
"…It has to be here."
My breathing slowly stabilized, though my body still trembled.
It had been several loops since I last heard her voice.
The real one.
The connection had been cut.
And I couldn't call her freely.
But…
I had learned something.
From a book.
One specific book.
A prayer.
A method.
A risk.
I exhaled slowly, lifting my gaze toward the ceiling.
"…Alright."
I closed my eyes.
Raised my hands.
And began.
A circle traced itself in the air, invisible but deliberate, guided by memory rather than sight. My fingers trembled as they completed it, then came together in front of me.
A quiet breath escaped my lips.
And then—
I spoke.
"Great Lady of Greed…
Sovereign of both divine and worldly wealth…
Witch of gold and silver…
Ruler of violence and cruelty…"
The air shifted.
"…hear my prayer."
The corridor fell silent.
Too silent.
"Grant me the power to face my enemies…
And the blessing…"
My voice faltered for just a fraction of a second.
"…to hear your voice again."
For a heartbeat—
Nothing happened.
And then—
The world moved.
A violent wind tore through the corridor, howling like something ancient had just awakened. My clothes snapped against my body, my hair whipped across my face—
And behind me…
Warmth.
A golden mist.
It spread slowly across my back, like something alive… something watching.
Then—
Pain.
My hand instinctively shot to my neck.
The mark.
The place where she bit me.
It pulsed.
Hard.
Faster.
The runes—Luminari script—burned back into existence across my skin, glowing with an intense golden light that bled into the air around me.
My vision flickered.
Then changed.
The emptiness in my eyes… vanished.
Replaced.
Gold.
Not reflected light.
Not illusion.
Her color.
Her presence.
The mist behind me moved.
Shifted.
Wrapped around me.
An embrace.
Soft.
Possessive.
Terrifying.
I looked up.
Slowly.
And she was there.
Not fully.
Not completely.
But enough.
Her form began to take shape from the mist—delicate, deliberate, almost… affectionate. Strands of golden hair moved as if carried by a wind that didn't exist.
Then her face.
Her smile.
That same smile.
The one that never meant anything good.
And her voice—
It didn't just sound.
It echoed.
Endlessly.
As if the corridor had become a canyon without end.
"Do not worry, my dear Dark…"
My body froze.
"Be calm."
The warmth turned into heat.
"I will give you the power to destroy this very world… if that is what you desire."
My heart stopped for a second.
"I will grant you my blood."
The golden light intensified.
"The blood of the Witch of Greed."
My veins ignited.
"The blood that crushes all who dare oppose you."
And then—
I screamed.
I opened my eyes already on my knees.
Not gasping this time.
Not screaming.
Just… empty.
The stone floor beneath me was cold, but I barely felt it. My body remembered the pain—every nerve burned with the ghost of it—but the sensation itself had dulled into something worse.
Familiarity.
I stared at my hands.
They were whole again.
Unbroken. Unburned. Human.
A lie.
"…Two left."
I didn't need to look. I could feel it. That invisible counter carved into my existence, ticking down with quiet cruelty.
Two.
I exhaled slowly, my breath trembling despite my effort to steady it.
So that's what happens.
Power—real power—wasn't salvation.
It was execution.
I laughed under my breath. Dry. Hollow.
"Of course it is."
Behind me, I could hear them again. Voices. Movement. Life restarting as if nothing had happened.
As if I hadn't just been reduced to dust.
I didn't turn around immediately.
Because I knew something now.
Something important.
The corridor wasn't just killing me.
It was testing limits.
And I had just found one.
I stood up slowly, my legs weak but responsive.
Good. That meant I still had time.
I turned to face them.
Minho. Alya. Xia. The others.
Alive.
Unaware.
Still trusting me.
That last part twisted something deep in my chest.
Alya stepped forward slightly, her eyes scanning my face.
"Dark… are you okay?"
There it was again.
That question.
That useless, fragile question.
I forced a small smile.
Not warm.
Not convincing.
But enough.
"I'm fine."
Lie.
"I just… need to try something different."
That part was true.
I walked past them this time without stopping.
No speeches. No fake confidence.
Just movement.
They followed.
Of course they did.
As we climbed the stairs again, I began reconstructing everything in my head.
Not emotionally.
Logically.
Cold.
Detached.
Fact one: The corridor adapts.
Fact two: Direct destruction is impossible—at least with my current body.
Fact three: External power amplifies the penalty, not the solution.
I clenched my jaw slightly.
So brute force is out.
That leaves…
Understanding.
Exploitation.
Or sacrifice.
My gaze drifted briefly to Alya.
No.
Not that again.
We reached the upper level.
The hallway stretched out before us, endless and wrong.
But this time…
I didn't feel lost.
I felt watched.
Evaluated.
Like the corridor itself had taken interest.
"Good," I muttered under my breath.
"Watch closely."
I turned to the group.
"This time, we don't split randomly."
My voice was calmer now. Sharper.
More… controlled.
They noticed.
I could see it in their eyes.
"Xia, stay alert. Don't attack unless I tell you."
She nodded immediately.
"Minho, stay close to Alya."
A flicker of confusion crossed his face—but he agreed.
"And you?"
Alya asked quietly.
I met her gaze.
"For now… I observe."
That wasn't entirely true.
But it was close enough.
We advanced.
Step by step.
No rushing.
No panic.
Just controlled movement.
The corridor felt different this time.
Or maybe…
I was the one who changed.
Then—
A sound.
Soft.
Wet.
Like something dragging itself just out of sight.
The air grew heavier.
Colder.
The whispers hadn't started yet.
Which meant…
It was early.
Good.
Very good.
I raised my hand slightly, signaling them to stop.
"Don't react to anything you hear," I said quietly.
"Not yet."
Minho frowned.
"Not yet?"
I didn't answer.
Because right on cue—
It began.
A whisper.
Then another.
Layered.
Distorted.
Too many voices speaking at once.
And just like before, I saw it—
Their reactions.
Subtle at first.
Xia's shoulders tightening.
Minho's breath hitching.
Alya's fingers curling slightly.
I watched them carefully.
Analyzing.
Measuring.
Timing.
Then I turned my gaze forward.
Into the corridor.
Into the place where I knew—
it would appear.
The fog.
Not yet visible.
But coming.
Always coming.
I exhaled slowly.
"Alright…"
My voice dropped into something quieter.
Colder.
More certain.
"Let's try this again."
But this time—
I wasn't trying to survive.
I was trying to understand
how it kills me.
And more importantly—
why.
I don't run this time.
That alone feels wrong.
My legs tremble, begging me to move, to escape, to repeat the same desperate pattern that has led me to nothing but death after death after death… but I force them still. I force myself still.
Because I finally understand something.
Running is just another form of surrender.
So instead, I stop at the center of the corridor.
The intersection.
The place where every path feels equally cursed.
My breathing is uneven, shallow—like my lungs have forgotten how to exist without panic. My heart slams violently against my ribs, as if trying to escape my body before I destroy it again.
"...No more."
The words come out as a whisper, but they carry weight.
Not hope.
Not determination.
Just… exhaustion sharpened into something dangerous.
I close my eyes.
For a moment, everything fades—the whispers, the distant echoes, the memory of blood, of screams, of my own body breaking apart again and again.
And in that silence…
I remember.
The book.
The ritual.
The one thing I didn't dare try before.
Because I knew… it wouldn't end well.
My fingers tremble as I slowly raise my hand.
"Very well…" I murmur under my breath. "If the normal path doesn't work…"
A faint, humorless smile touches my lips.
"Then I'll choose the wrong one."
I inhale deeply.
Then exhale.
And begin.
"Great lady of greed…"
My voice is unsteady at first, but I force it forward, word by word.
"Queen of both divine and mortal wealth… witch of gold and silver… sovereign of violence and cruelty…"
The air changes.
Subtly at first.
A shift in pressure.
Like the corridor itself is listening.
"I call upon you… hear my plea…"
The temperature drops—then rises—then distorts into something unnatural, something that doesn't belong to any physical law.
"Grant me the power… to face my enemies…"
My throat tightens.
My chest burns.
"And the blessing… to hear your voice once more."
Silence.
A single second.
Two.
Three—
Then—
The world exhales.
A violent gust of wind tears through the corridor, howling like something ancient and furious. Dust lifts from the ground, spiraling upward, and the shadows themselves seem to recoil.
And behind me—
Something forms.
I don't turn immediately.
I don't need to.
I can feel her.
A presence so overwhelming it makes my knees weaken.
Warm.
Heavy.
Terrifying.
Golden mist spreads across my back like liquid light, curling and coiling with unnatural grace. It doesn't behave like smoke.
It behaves like something alive.
Something aware.
Something that has been waiting.
My breath catches.
Slowly… carefully…
I open my eyes.
My vision flickers—
And shifts.
The darkness inside them… is gone.
Replaced by gold.
Not reflected light.
Not illusion.
Gold.
Pure. Burning. Alive.
My veins ignite.
I gasp as something pulses beneath my skin—something wrong. Something that doesn't belong to me. The mark on my neck—long gone, long silent—suddenly returns.
It burns.
It awakens.
Runes carve themselves across my skin again, glowing with that same divine, merciless radiance.
And then—
Arms.
They wrap around me from behind.
Soft.
Gentle.
Possessive.
I freeze.
The mist thickens, condensing, shaping—hair first, long and flowing like molten gold, moving as if carried by an invisible current. Then a face, forming slowly, delicately, like a painting being brought to life.
I can't breathe.
Not from fear.
Not from pain.
But from the sheer weight of her presence.
Her lips curve.
That smile.
That familiar smile.
And then—
Her voice.
It doesn't come from one place.
It comes from everywhere.
From the walls.
From the air.
From inside my skull.
"Do not worry… my dear Dark."
My entire body trembles.
Not out of weakness.
Out of recognition.
"I will grant you the power to destroy this world… if that is what you desire."
Her grip tightens slightly.
Not enough to hurt.
Just enough to remind me—
I belong inside this moment now.
"I will grant you… my blood."
My veins explode with light.
"The golden blood… of the Witch of Greed."
Pain.
Not sharp.
Not sudden.
Endless.
It spreads through every inch of me like liquid fire, like molten metal being poured directly into my bloodstream.
I scream.
Or at least—
I try to.
"The blood that crushes… all who dare to harm you."
And in that moment—
I understand.
This was never power meant to be used.
This was power meant to be survived.
And I am not surviving.
My vision fractures into gold and white.
My body begins to burn from the inside out.
And still—
She smiles.
As if this outcome was never in doubt.
The moment the power enters me—
—I know I've already lost.
Not because I'm weak.
Not because I made a mistake.
But because this…
was never meant for something like me.
My veins don't just burn.
They ignite.
Not metaphorically.
Not symbolically.
I see it.
Through my own skin.
Threads of gold spreading violently beneath the surface, branching, multiplying, consuming everything they touch like a living infection made of light.
I try to breathe—
—but the air tastes like fire.
My lungs convulse.
My chest tightens.
And then—
they fail.
My body jerks forward as something inside me collapses.
Organs.
One by one.
Not rupturing.
Not tearing.
Dissolving.
Like they're being rewritten into something that cannot exist inside a human frame.
"Ghhh—!"
A broken sound escapes me—half scream, half breath.
Or what's left of one.
Behind me—
she laughs.
Soft.
Delighted.
Not mocking.
Not cruel.
Just… fascinated.
"Careful, my dear Dark…"
Her voice coils around my mind like silk wrapped around a blade.
"You asked for power."
My knees hit the ground.
Hard.
I barely feel it.
"I am simply giving you… exactly what you desired."
My hands slam against the floor.
They tremble uncontrollably.
No—
Not trembling.
Breaking.
Cracks spread across my skin.
Golden light leaks through them.
My fingers twitch—
—and then the skin splits open.
Not blood.
Not at first.
Just light.
Pure, radiant gold spilling out like my body is no longer capable of containing anything else.
"No… no—!"
I force the words out.
Force them through a throat that already feels like it's collapsing.
"I can—control it…!"
I try.
God, I try.
I clench my hand.
Focus.
Compress.
Just like before.
Don't release it outward—
force it inward.
The energy responds.
For a moment—
just a moment—
it listens.
The golden flow stabilizes.
Condenses.
Tightens inside my arm.
My breathing steadies—
just slightly.
My vision clears—
just enough.
A laugh escapes me.
Shaky.
Unstable.
But real.
"…I can—"
Then—
my arm explodes.
Not outward.
Not violently.
But internally—
collapsing into itself.
Every vein in my left arm bursts at once.
This time, blood comes with it.
Red floods over gold, mixing, dripping, painting my body in something grotesque and unreal.
The pain—
There are no words for it.
It's not sharp.
Not overwhelming.
Not even chaotic.
It's precise.
Every nerve lit up individually.
Every fiber of my body forced to experience its own destruction in perfect clarity.
My left eye burns.
Then—
it melts.
Not falling.
Not bursting.
Just… dissolving into a stream of golden vapor that rises slowly into the air.
I can still see.
Somehow.
But everything is warped.
Distorted.
Like reality itself is bending around me.
"…more…"
The word slips out before I can stop it.
Weak.
Desperate.
Broken.
Behind me—
she tightens her hold again.
"There it is…" she whispers softly.
"That hunger."
My body convulses violently.
I slam forward, catching myself with what remains of my right arm.
The floor cracks beneath me.
Or maybe that's just my perception breaking.
"I need it…!" I gasp.
"I need enough to—"
To what?
Win?
Escape?
Destroy?
I don't even finish the thought.
Because suddenly—
the corridor reacts.
The walls ripple.
Subtly.
But undeniably.
Like something beneath them just shifted.
Watching.
Adjusting.
My breath catches.
Even through the pain—
I see it.
"You… felt that…?"
My voice is barely a whisper.
For the first time—
I'm not just being crushed by this place.
I'm touching it.
A broken smile spreads across my face.
Wide.
Unstable.
Almost manic.
"There you are…"
The golden energy surges again.
Stronger.
Violent.
Uncontrolled.
"Just a little more…!"
I force everything inward again.
Ignoring the way my body screams.
Ignoring the way my bones feel like they're softening—
melting—
losing structure.
For a fraction of a second—
everything aligns.
Power.
Pain.
Awareness.
I feel it.
The corridor.
Not physically.
Not visually.
But structurally.
Like a system.
Like rules layered over reality itself.
And I break one.
Just slightly.
A crack.
Invisible.
But real.
My smile widens.
Blood spills from my lips.
"…I can reach you…"
Then—
everything stops.
The power spikes.
Beyond anything I can contain.
Beyond anything I can understand.
My body doesn't resist anymore.
It gives up.
Organs? Gone.
Bones? Softened into nothing.
Skin? Fragmenting into light and ash.
And yet—
I'm still conscious.
Still thinking.
Still aware.
Still failing.
A quiet laugh escapes me.
Not bitter.
Not angry.
Just… tired.
"…so that's the limit…"
Behind me—
her presence remains.
Unchanged.
Unbothered.
"Of course it is," she murmurs.
My body begins to collapse completely now.
Pieces of me lifting into the air as golden particles.
Disintegrating.
But I don't panic.
Not this time.
Because I learned something.
Not enough.
But something.
The corridor can react.
That means—
it can be affected.
And that means—
it can be broken.
I raise what remains of my hand.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Three fingers.
I hold them there for a moment.
Staring at them.
Memorizing them.
Then—
I lower one.
"...Two left."
My voice barely exists.
"…Next time…"
A faint smile forms.
Soft.
Empty.
Certain.
"…I won't try to hold it."
Darkness closes in.
The last thing I feel—
is warmth.
Not from the power.
Not from the pain.
From her.
Still holding me.
Still smiling.
As I disappear.
I open my eyes—
—and immediately something is wrong.
Not subtle.
Not a feeling.
Wrong.
I don't see the stairs.
There's no cold stone beneath me.
No familiar silence waiting to be filled with footsteps and dread.
Instead—
I'm standing.
Already standing.
My fingers are wrapped around something.
A book.
My breath stops.
Slowly… slowly…
I lower my gaze.
The library.
"…No."
The word slips out, hollow.
Uncertain.
This isn't how it works.
It always resets at the stairs.
Always.
That's the rule.
The only rule I could trust.
My grip tightens around the book.
"…No, no, no—"
I turn.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
And I see her.
Kim.
Walking toward me.
For a second—
hope.
Stupid.
Reflexive.
Human.
Her expression isn't twisted.
Not hostile.
Not broken.
She just looks… normal.
"Kim—"
Fire.
It happens before I can finish her name.
Before I can move.
Before I can think.
Flames erupt from her body—violent, immediate, absolute.
They swallow me whole.
No warning.
No hesitation.
No reason.
My skin burns instantly.
Not gradually.
Not spreading.
All at once.
I scream—
—or I think I do.
I can't hear it.
The fire is too loud.
Too close.
Too inside.
My vision dissolves into orange and white.
My nerves collapse under the heat.
My body—
disappears.
And just before everything goes dark—
one thought manages to form:
"That… wasn't supposed to happen."
—
I open my eyes.
The library.
Again.
No transition.
No reset sensation.
No falling.
No returning.
Just—
there.
My breath comes out sharp, broken.
"What the—"
I don't finish.
Because this time—
I'm not alone.
Alya.
She's in my arms.
Warm.
Real.
Close.
Exactly like before.
No.
Not before.
Then.
My body starts shaking.
I can't stop it.
I already know.
I already know what comes next.
"Alya—wait—"
She looks up at me.
Concern.
Confusion.
Then—
Pain.
A blade enters my stomach.
Clean.
Precise.
My voice dies in my throat.
Another strike.
And another.
And another.
No hesitation.
No pause.
No mercy.
Her face doesn't change.
That's the worst part.
She's not angry.
She's not crying.
She's not lost.
She's just…
doing it.
Like it's supposed to happen.
Like it already did.
My legs give out.
The world tilts.
The last thing I see—
is her.
Standing over me.
Unchanged.
—
I open my eyes.
Darkness.
Cold.
Stone.
The stairs.
Miriam is beside me.
I don't react.
I don't speak.
I don't think.
Because I already know.
We walk.
Down.
Toward the well.
Step.
Step.
Step.
My mind is slower now.
Like it's struggling to keep up.
Something inside me is… slipping.
We reach the edge.
I look at her.
She doesn't look back.
And then—
she pushes me.
No words.
No warning.
I fall.
Endlessly.
There's no wind.
No sound.
No resistance.
Just descent.
Then—
nothing.
I don't even feel myself disappear.
—
I open my eyes.
Library.
Xia.
Book.
Impact.
Anger.
Blade.
Poison.
Death.
—
I open my eyes.
Mirror.
Eclipse.
Not her.
The other one.
Hands.
Glass.
Inside.
Information.
Too much.
Too fast.
Time—
breaks.
Years.
Centuries.
Millions.
My thoughts fracture.
Split.
Multiply.
Collapse.
I try to scream—
but I don't exist long enough to finish it.
—
I open my eyes.
Airi.
Pain.
Sting.
Blood.
Camera.
Glass.
My throat—
opens.
I drown.
Standing.
—
I open my eyes.
Running.
Fog.
Teeth.
Claws.
My body—
opens.
Again.
—
I open my eyes.
Mirrors.
Black.
Him.
Me.
Punch.
Pain.
Break.
Glass.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Knife.
Knife.
Knife.
"Your worst enemy… is you."
—
I open my eyes.
Fire.
Books.
Bodies.
Gun.
Bang.
—
I open my eyes.
Light.
Door.
Hope—
Gunshots.
Alya.
Tears.
Blood.
Warm.
Bang.
—
I open my eyes—
Gold.
Burning.
Melting.
Disappearing.
Again.
—
I open my eyes—
Fire.
Knife.
Fall.
Poison.
Mirror.
Glass.
Claws.
Knife.
Gun.
Gun.
Light.
Nothing.
Again.
Again.
Again.
And something inside me finally understands:
This is not a loop anymore.
This is a collapse.
I open my eyes—
—or I think I do.
Fire.
No—
library.
No—
hands.
Someone is touching me.
No—
holding me—
No—
stabbing—
Pain.
I blink—
—but the world doesn't reset.
It slides.
Kim.
Fire.
Alya.
Blade.
Miriam—
fall—
Xia—
poison—
All at once.
My body jerks—
but which body?
I can feel my skin burning—
and at the same time—
I feel something tearing through my stomach—
and at the same time—
I'm falling—
and falling—
and—
"Stop—!"
The word tears out of me—
but it doesn't stop anything.
Nothing stops.
The loop doesn't restart anymore.
It overlaps.
I see the library—
but I'm already dying in it.
I see the well—
but I'm already falling into it.
I see Alya—
but she's already killing me.
Everything is happening—
before it happens—
after it happens—
while it happens—
"NO—!"
My hands go to my head—
but they're not there.
Because they're already gone.
Burned.
Cut.
Broken.
Gone.
I try to breathe—
but one version of me is choking on blood—
another is inhaling fire—
another—
has no lungs left.
I collapse—
—or I'm already on the ground—
—or I never stood up—
"I— I— I—"
The words don't form.
They split.
Echo.
Multiply.
I hear voices—
not around me—
inside me.
Screaming.
Crying.
Begging.
All of them mine.
All of them dying.
"Againagainagainagain—"
My thoughts stutter.
Break.
Repeat.
Knife.
Fire.
Fall.
Glass.
Claws.
Gun.
Gold.
Knife.
Fire.
Fall.
Glass.
Claws.
Gun.
Gold.
Faster.
KnifeFireFallGlassClawsGunGoldKnifeFireFallGlassClawsGunGold—
"STOP—!"
Something inside me snaps.
For a fraction of a second—
everything pauses.
Silence.
I'm on my knees.
I think.
My hands are shaking.
I think.
There's nothing around me.
I think.
"I… I can still—"
Fire.
My skin peels away.
"NO—!"
Blade.
My stomach opens again.
Fall.
Endless.
Mirror.
Voices.
Too many.
Too much.
"I CAN'T—!"
Glass through my throat.
I choke.
I drown.
I burn.
I fall.
I break.
I die.
All at once.
Again.
Again.
Again—
There is no time between them anymore.
No space.
No breath.
No reset.
Just—
impact.
My thoughts begin to slow.
Not calm.
Not stable.
Just… failing.
"I… was…"
Was what?
A name tries to form.
It slips.
Breaks apart.
Da—
Da—
Da—
Gone.
Something laughs.
Or cries.
Or both.
It sounds like me.
It sounds like all of me.
"I don't—"
Knife.
"I don't—"
Fire.
"I don't—"
Fall.
"I don't—"
Nothing.
The sentence never finishes.
Because there's no one left to finish it.
Images flash—
too fast to process—
too fast to feel—
too fast to mean anything.
Faces.
Familiar.
Important.
I think.
But they blur.
Melt.
Disappear.
They stop being people.
They become—
events.
Fire.
Knife.
Fall.
That's all they are now.
That's all anything is.
My body moves—
or something moves—
or nothing moves—
It doesn't matter.
Nothing connects anymore.
Nothing leads to anything.
There is no cause.
No effect.
No sequence.
Just—
happening.
Endlessly.
Meaninglessly.
Violently.
I try to hold onto something.
Anything.
A memory.
A name.
A reason.
My hands close around—
nothing.
Always nothing.
Always slipping.
Always gone.
And somewhere—
very far away—
something inside me whispers:
"This is wrong."
But it doesn't matter.
Because I don't know why.
I don't know what.
I don't know—
—
…
There is no sequence anymore.
Something—
breaks the pattern.
Not completely.
Not cleanly.
But enough.
I fall—
—or stop falling—
—or something lets me stop.
And suddenly—
I'm on my knees.
Still.
Still.
For the first time in… I don't know how long—
there is no fire.
No blade.
No impact.
No immediate death.
My body trembles violently.
My hands press against the ground as if I need to prove it's real.
Solid.
Cold.
Unmoving.
"…I'm…"
The word drags out of me like it's cutting through my throat.
"…alive…?"
Silence answers.
Not peace.
Not safety.
Just… absence.
My chest tightens.
My breath comes in broken, uneven gasps.
And then—
without warning—
I collapse forward.
A sound tears out of me.
Raw.
Animal.
Uncontrolled.
I'm crying.
I don't remember deciding to.
I don't remember when it started.
But I can't stop.
"Why—?"
My voice cracks immediately.
Weak.
Destroyed.
"Why… why is this happening…?"
My fingers dig into the floor.
Desperate.
Like I can anchor myself to something that won't disappear.
"Please…"
The word comes out smaller this time.
Almost gone.
"Please just—"
Fire.
My body ignites.
I scream—
—
—and I'm back.
On my knees.
Crying.
No transition.
No warning.
"WHY?!"
The word explodes out of me now.
Louder.
Sharper.
Breaking what little silence exists.
"JUST TELL ME—!"
Blade.
My stomach opens.
I choke—
—
—and I'm back.
Knees.
Ground.
Hands.
Again.
Again.
Again.
There's no time to process it.
But something inside me—
starts counting.
One.
Fire.
Two.
Knife.
Three.
Fall.
Four.
Glass.
Five.
Claws.
Six.
Gun.
Seven.
Light.
Eight.
Nothing.
Nine.
Everything.
Ten—
I lose track.
"No—no—no—"
My hands clutch my head.
Hard.
Too hard.
Like I can hold my thoughts together by force.
"I can count—I can—"
Fire.
Knife.
Fall.
"ONE—!"
Glass.
"TW—!"
Claws.
"TH—!"
Gun.
"I—!"
I lose it again.
The numbers slip.
Break.
Scatter.
Time doesn't exist long enough to measure.
But the deaths—
they keep coming.
Faster.
Tighter.
Relentless.
My voice begins to tear itself apart between resets.
"WHY—!"
Fire.
"WHAT DID I—!"
Knife.
"PLEASE—!"
Fall.
"STOP—!"
Glass.
"I CAN'T—!"
Claws.
"I CAN'T—!"
Gun.
"I CAN'T—!"
Light—
Dark—
Back—
Again—
At some point—
I stop trying to understand.
At some point—
I stop trying to survive.
At some point—
I realize something worse.
This isn't punishing me.
It's using me.
Grinding me down.
Over and over.
Until nothing remains.
And still—
I beg.
Not because I think it will work.
But because it's the only thing I have left.
"If… if there's someone…"
Fire.
"If there's—"
Knife.
"If there's a god—"
Fall.
My voice breaks completely.
Back again.
Knees.
Ground.
Tears.
"Please…!"
Now I'm screaming.
Not in anger.
Not in defiance.
In surrender.
"Please—just tell me what I did—!"
Glass.
"WHAT DID I DO?!"
Claws.
"I'M SORRY—!"
Gun.
"I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY—!"
Light.
Back.
Again.
"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I DID—!"
My voice is gone.
Shredded.
But I keep forcing sound through it.
"Just—just let me rest—!"
Fire.
"Please—!"
Knife.
"I don't want to do this anymore—!"
Fall.
"I don't want to die again—!"
Glass.
"I don't want—!"
Nothing.
Back.
Again.
At some point—
the counting returns.
Not clean.
Not accurate.
But desperate.
Ten.
Twenty.
Fifty.
A hundred.
My voice fades.
But the numbers stay.
Two hundred.
My thoughts slow.
But the numbers stay.
Three hundred.
My memories blur.
But the numbers stay.
Four hundred—
I stop recognizing the faces.
They're still there.
I think.
But they don't mean anything anymore.
Fire.
Knife.
Fall.
That's all they are.
Four hundred sixty—
My thoughts fracture again.
But not like before.
Before was chaos.
This is…
emptiness spreading.
Four hundred sixty-seven.
I forget what I was doing.
I forget why I'm here.
I forget what any of this is.
But the pain—
The pain remains.
Always.
Five hundred—
There's no more screaming now.
No more begging.
No more words.
Just reaction.
Just impact.
Just… suffering.
And somewhere—
deep—
barely there—
something tries to form one last thought:
"This… shouldn't…"
It doesn't finish.
Because it can't.
Because there's almost nothing left to think it.
The count continues.
Without meaning.
Without purpose.
Without me.
Five hundred fifty—
Five hundred eighty—
Five hundred ninety—
And something inside me begins to…
stop.
Not suddenly.
But quietly.
Like a light fading.
Like a system shutting down.
Like a mind that has finally reached its limit.
Six hundred—
—
Silence approaches.
I don't know how many times I died after that.
At some point, numbers stopped meaning anything.
Pain stopped being something I felt… and became something I was.
Kim burns me.
Alya stabs me.
Miriam throws me.
Xia poisons me.
The mirror shatters my mind.
Airi pierces my throat.
The fog tears me open.
He—me—kills me again.
Gunshot.
Fire.
Light.
Nothing.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
There is no transition anymore.
No reset.
No breath between deaths.
Everything overlaps.
Everything exists at once.
I am burning while I am falling.
I am drowning while I am being torn apart.
I am screaming while my throat is already gone.
Time is broken.
No—
I am broken.
At some point, I stop reacting.
No screaming.
No resistance.
No thoughts.
Just… awareness.
I know I am dying.
But I don't move.
I don't fight.
I don't even try to understand anymore.
Because understanding requires something I no longer have:
A self.
Faces blur.
Voices distort.
Names vanish.
Minho.
Alya.
Xia.
Kim.
Airi.
Miriam.
I know those names mattered.
I know they should matter.
But they feel… distant.
Like memories that don't belong to me.
Like I'm watching someone else's life.
Another death.
Another.
Another.
At some point—
I fall to my knees.
Not because I chose to.
But because something inside me… collapsed.
Tears fall.
I don't remember deciding to cry.
"Why…?"
My voice is weak.
Cracked.
Barely human.
"Just… tell me why…"
There's no answer.
There has never been one.
"Whoever is doing this… what did I do…?"
My hands tremble.
Not from fear.
Not from pain.
From emptiness.
"I just… want it to stop…"
My voice fades.
Like everything else.
"If there's… something… someone…"
A pause.
A final fracture.
"A god… anything…"
I bow my head.
Not in faith.
Not in hope.
In surrender.
"Please…"
The word breaks apart in my mouth.
"I don't want to do this anymore…"
Silence.
"I just wanted to live…"
Another death.
"I just wanted…"
Another.
"…to be happy."
Everything goes dark.
Not physically.
Mentally.
The deaths continue.
But something changes.
I stop… being there.
By the 372nd death…
I don't recognize their faces.
By the 467th…
I don't recognize myself.
By the 600th…
There is nothing left to recognize.
No identity.
No memory.
No pain.
No me.
I was a mirror.
And something—
someone—
threw me against a wall.
Not cracked.
Not broken.
Shattered.
And now…
there are only fragments.
Fragments that feel pain.
Fragments that die.
Fragments that scream.
But none of them are me.
Because I am gone.
There are no thoughts anymore.
No voice.
No fear.
Just—
Silence.
Not peace.
Not rest.
Something far worse.
Absence.
The loop doesn't end.
But I do.
And for the first time…
There is nothing left inside me
that can even notice.