《11th Hour》


 Chapter 1

    ¡°On an otherwise nice and normal Monday morning, I burned to death. Rather, in the interest of full accuracy, I should say that I choked on smoke, passed out, then burned to death. But saying ¡®I burned to death¡¯ is much more dramatic, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I leaned on the bridge railings and glanced at my conversation partner, a balding mid-40s salaryman dressed in a rumpled suit paired with an even more rumpled spirit. He clutched an almost empty bottle of liquor close to his chest, vacant gaze fixed behind me on the river flowing beneath the bridge.


    I followed his gaze. The river seemed deceptively still and peaceful, reflecting the beautiful full moon hanging above us. Underneath the surface though, the current was swift and strong, capable of promptly drowning anyone unfortunate enough to fall in. I should know, we were both still soaking wet, courtesy of said river.


    ¡°Anyway, where was I? Right, burning to death. What I¡¯m trying to say is, drowning was a wise choice on your part. Much better than burning to death.¡±


    If the drunk salaryman was listening, he showed no signs of it. But that was fine. This was for me as much as it was for him.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not fish you out again. Once is enough. Before I leave you to it though, I hope you¡¯ll listen to my story. I promise I¡¯ll leave right after. How does that sound?¡± I asked.


    The salaryman took a swig of alcohol in lieu of a reply, still staring at the river.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as an agreement then. Speaking of, do you mind if I take a sip too? Why did you have to pick winter of all times for a swim? No? Oh well¡­ I guess it all started with an important meeting starting at noon and me riding a bus,¡± I said.


    I looked up at the moon above us. I still couldn¡¯t get enough of the sight. ¡°Ah. That damned bus¡­¡±


    ***


    I fidgeted nervously on the bus seat while my finger tapped the windowsill to the beat of my pacing heart. A trickle of sweat ran down my neck. I glanced at my wristwatch¡ª10:44. It was just a battered old digital watch, not a smartwatch that was all the rage these days. Perhaps it was a bit old-fashioned for a young professional like myself, but I liked having an object with the singular and specific purpose of timekeeping.


    I closed my eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Just an hour and sixteen minutes until the defining moment of my career. An hour and sixteen minutes before I present my strategy to the board of directors and current Chief Marketing Officer. The same CMO who was due for retirement and looking for a successor. This presentation would make or break my career. Succeed, and I¡¯d be CMO within the year. Fail, and I''d be stuck in my current position for years and years while one of my rivals ran ahead.


    I shuddered at the thought. I¡¯d rather resign and look for another job. With the amount of bad blood between us, the one promoted would make life a living hell for the rest.


    I ran through the details of my proposed strategy once more. Everything was perfect. Of course it was. I¡¯ve paid my dues, pulling a series of all-nighters that I¡¯m sure had shortened my lifespan by months, if not years. I¡¯ve poured blood, sweat, and tears to perfect this strategy in the limited time we were given. I was as prepared as I could be. I knew my plan was the best. I just had to not mess up the presentation.


    I checked the time. 10:46.


    This is torture.


    I can¡¯t even tell if I want time to move faster or slower. I leaned back, feeling the engine vibration through the bus seat. Or perhaps I was the one trembling.


    A baby started crying in the back row. On any other day, I wouldn¡¯t even have noticed it, lost in thoughts of work. But today¡­ today it seemed particularly piercing. Each grating cry and wail an indictment from my nonexistent conscience. I searched my briefcase pocket for my earphones, but it wasn¡¯t there. I¡¯d been too distracted and rushed when I left this morning I suppose. I resigned myself to an uncomfortable ride, but fortunately, the crying baby and his mother got off at the next stop.Stolen story; please report.


    In exchange, a gaggle of teenagers in school uniform boarded, whispering and joking with each other. I placed my briefcase on the empty window seat next to me to discourage company. The teenagers sat across the aisle to my left.


    One part of me envied them for their youth. Still so vibrant and full of hopes. Another part of me hated them for being too na?ve and impressionable. I knew it wasn¡¯t fair to blame them, but I couldn¡¯t help but wish they¡¯d be more discerning.


    I exchanged seats with my briefcase. I wouldn¡¯t have bothered moving on any other day. Especially if it involved me sitting near the tinted windows. But today¡­ today the window seat doesn¡¯t seem that bad after all. At least it put more distance between me and their joyful laughter.


    I glanced out the window, looking past my hollow-eyed reflection. The people and buildings outside blurred into one incoherent mess. I heaved a deep sigh and closed my eyes. Suddenly, it all seemed pointless. Endless meetings, all-nighters, and office politics. A never-ending stream of presentations, meaningless emails, and fake smiles.


    What am I doing? How did I get here?


    I leaned forward and cradled my head in my arms. I had entertained the thought of quitting my job countless times by now, but every time I managed to convince myself to hold on. It was too late to turn back. I have done too much, sacrificed too much, to quit now. This was the last stretch of the road to success. Just one more presentation, one more sacrifice, and I would be CMO. That should be enough to satisfy me, right? I would undoubtedly have ¡°made it¡±. The current CMO earned $400k annually. How could I possibly not be considered successful when I could earn that much?


    My heart thumped painfully in my chest.


    I just needed to get myself together. This is just a minor breakdown. A nervous jitter before an important presentation. Yes. Nothing more than that.


    I breathed deeply, in and out, in and out. I was feeling much better already.


    I¡¯m going to ace the presentation, become CMO, and succeed in life.


    "Last stop!" the bus driver shouted.


    My eyes shot open. I was the only passenger left on the bus. An impossible occurrence in this city. In the afternoon, the only deserted buses were those marked ¡°Out of Service¡±. But I didn¡¯t have the attention to note down this irregularity. I thought I just heard the bus driver call this the last stop.


    "Hey! Sir, it''s the last stop," the driver called again.


    My heart sank. I didn¡¯t mishear him after all. I looked around at the unfamiliar buildings outside the tinted windows.


    "Where are we?" I asked.


    "Last stop. You need to get off now," the driver said.


    In a trance, I collected my briefcase and stumbled my way to the front of the bus, frantically looking for a trace of familiarity.


    "Can you tell me where we are exactly? I thought this was bus number 8?" I asked.


    "It''s number 13. Look man, just get off the bus. I still have things to do," the driver said.


    I couldn''t believe it. Did I take the wrong bus? I''m going to be late for the presentation! I opened a map app on my phone. But it wouldn''t load. There was no internet signal. Nor reception.


    How is this possible? Are the phone towers down or something? How do phones work, anyway?


    The bus driver placed a hand on my shoulder. "Sir, you need to get off now."


    "Yes, I will. Sorry, I just- where are we exactly? My phone''s acting up and I have no reception or internet. Can you just tell me where we are?"


    The driver was slowly but firmly pulling me towards the exit as I babbled. Before I knew it, I was near the front door. Looking at the driver''s annoyed expression, I knew his patience was running thin.


    "Okay, okay. I''m getting off. Please just tell me where we are. Wait no, tell me which bus I should take to reach the Stratos Tower. Just tell me that. It''s really important."


    "There''s no more bus passing through here," the bus driver said in an indifferent voice.


    "What?! It''s barely midday. What do you mean there''s no more bus?" I asked.


    This can''t be happening to me. Of all days to get on the wrong bus, it just had to be today.


    The driver tried to push me out the door, but I held on with desperate strength. This was my future at stake.


    "Wait! Wait, at least tell me how to get to Stratos tower," I said in a last bid for directions.


    The driver stopped trying to push me off the bus and pointed behind me. "Just go up this street. You''ll find what you want at the end of it."


    I turned around to look at the street he was pointing toward¡ªan uphill, one-way street. Like the bus, it was eerily deserted.There should have been at least a couple of people walking on any given street in this city.


    Before I could ask him if he was sure, I felt a sharp shove from behind.


    I fell forward and sprawled on the sidewalk. Behind me, the bus door closed with a hiss. It rumbled away to the distance, trailing noxious smoke.


    I stared blankly at the pavement in front of my face, hardly able to process what had just happened.


    My neck flushed red with anger. I shot up to my feet and shouted my outrage at the rapidly disappearing bus.


    Soon, it was nothing but a speck on the horizon.


    "What an asshole," I muttered to myself.


    At least the anger had snapped me out of my funk. I collected my briefcase and checked the time.


    It was 11:01.


    I have less than an hour before the presentation.

 Chapter 2

    I was completely lost and had less than an hour to reach Stratos Tower for the presentation.


    The driver told me to just follow the street to reach Stratos Tower, but how far is it? I really hope he didn''t just point in a random direction to get me off the bus.


    I paced back and forth as I thought things through. Half expecting failure, I checked my phone again. Indeed, there was still no reception nor internet. Even the GPS function didn''t work.


    Did my phone break? Today of all days. Damn. No, calm down. I don''t even know if the driver was telling the truth, but moving in any direction is better than staying still. Wait, aren''t you supposed to stay in place when you get lost? Ah crap, I''m wasting precious time here.


    I checked the time¡ª11:06. A jolt of panic ran through my veins at the sight.


    Still pacing, I smoothed out the creases in my suit, straightened up my tie, and finger combed my hair with practiced motions. Even without looking at a mirror, I knew I looked picture-perfect and professional again. Ready to challenge the world.


    I picked up my briefcase from where it laid at the sidewalk, then took off at a brisk pace up the uphill street.


    Fine, let''s give it a try. Better to move than stagnate. This is the worst. Completely lost and now stranded with no way to hail a ride. What if I can''t reach the tower on foot in an hour? No, I need to think of another way. This is a life-or-death matter.


    I glanced back periodically, hoping I would spot a vacant taxi. Or even an occupied one. I wouldn''t mind sharing the ride. I would even settle for any passing vehicle to beg a ride from. Resorting to hitchhiking was distasteful, but it would solve all my problems.


    Considering the deserted state of the street though, I had little hope of a vehicle conveniently passing by in that exact moment. But that was exactly what happened. It was no taxi, but there on the horizon I saw a car approaching.


    Elated, I waved my left hand to hail the car. "Hey! Hey! Can you give me a ride? Hey!"


    The car sped past.


    They didn''t even slow down. Did they not see me or something?


    On the bright side, this meant that the street wasn''t completely deserted after all. I just had to stop the next car and ask for a ride.


    I resumed walking up the street. Even if it was negligible, I want to cover as much distance as I could.


    At 11:11, I heard the distant rumble of an approaching vehicle.


    Whipping around, I saw the vehicle instantly. It was speeding along at 50-60 mph and would be near me in seconds. I jumped up and down vigorously, shouting my lungs out.


    It sped past me without even a honk.


    I stared blankly at the retreating taillights.


    This is ridiculous. What am I doing wrong? They can''t have missed me jumping and shouting like that. The next one for sure.


    Stopping in place, I turned around and kept my eyes peeled. With the deserted state of the street, there''s no guarantee that the next passing car would not be the last. I had to be ready to seize the chance.


    I swallowed nervously, hyperaware of the passing time. My chance of making it in time for the meeting is getting smaller and smaller with every minute that slipped past. I held my briefcase in a tight grip, the leather handle creaking ominously.


    Finally, at 11:13, I saw an approaching vehicle in the distance. Like all the others before it, it was speeding just a tad too fast for what was appropriate in the city. But I couldn''t care less. In fact, I hoped they would pick me up and then go even faster. I dropped my briefcase and waved my hands above my head with all my might.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    "Hey! Heeeeyyy! I need some help! Please stop! Wait, no. No! Stop! Stop! Stop you asshole!"


    My heart sank as the car sped past without slowing down. My throat was sore from all the shouting, my arms felt like lead weights were tied to them from all the waving around I did. I might have even pulled a muscle on my shoulder.


    This can''t go on. Why aren''t they stopping? Am I doing this wrong?


    Desperate, I went off the sidewalk and stood in the middle of the four-lane street, hoping to at least have a chance of stopping a car.


    Almost instantly, I saw a black car approaching from the distance. I profess I wasn''t that familiar with cars. The city had a very robust public transport infrastructure and was clearly the superior option. Or so I thought before I met that damned bus driver.


    The approaching car was all sharp edges and painted matte black. Even to my uninformed eyes, I knew it was different from the rest. I''ve seen sport cars before, but this car was clearly a notch above.


    Now that''s a ride I can get behind.


    "Hey! I''m sorry, but can you please stop! I need some help!" I shouted. I didn''t like the way my voice trembled with desperation, but it would hopefully convince them to stop.


    It didn''t. The car barreled towards me without any signs of stopping.


    Are you really not going to stop? What the hell!


    With barely seconds to spare, I balked and threw myself back to the sidewalk. The black car sped past me.


    What is wrong with these people?!


    I checked the time and felt my heart stutter. It was already 11:14.


    Left with no other choice, I sprinted up the street.


    Barely a minute later, I was gasping like a landed fish. My heart tightened uncomfortably as it pounded crazily in my chest. A river of sweat ran down my neck, back, and thighs. The itch was torture. I was wearing dress shoes unsuitable for running, so my feet were aching.


    I slowed to a stop and hunched over. The brisk, winter air burned on my lungs, contrasted by the blazing heat from the sun above. I tasted something sweet on the back of my dry throat.


    I can''t do this. I''m dying. I''m dead.


    The sound of my hoarse breathing filled my ears. A rattling, pathetic, wheeze that highlighted how out of shape my body was. But I couldn''t help myself. I have a genetically weak heart. Exercising in my condition would require more care and time than I could afford.


    Ah, who am I kidding? I was just too lazy to exercise. I swear I''ll start exercising regularly if I make it through this.


    I took off my tie and tucked it in my suit pocket, it was choking me. I forced my uncooperative legs to speed-walk up the street.


    The slope uphill isn''t that bad. I can still make it if I don''t tire myself out. I can probably jog my way there if I push myself a bit. Running like that was dumb of me.


    Calm down, think. Pace yourself. What do I do?


    As I powerwalked, I kept my head on a swivel, eyes peeled for a solution. The buildings on both sides of the street were dark and lifeless.


    How is the street this desolate? Where''s all the people?


    As if in response to my thoughts, I saw a boy of about 10 years old just ahead. There were no adults around him as far as I could tell. I followed the child''s gaze upwards and saw a dozen colorful balloons stuck on a horizontal cloth awning above him.


    Damn. I don''t have time for this. I need solutions, not more problems. Sorry kid.


    I jogged past the boy, ignoring the sound of him jumping behind me.


    I didn''t turn back. I had no time.


    The boy continued jumping.


    Fine, I need to catch my breath anyways.


    I stopped and turned around to face the boy. "Hey, kid, stop jumping and get an adult to help you. You''ll fall."


    The boy ignored me. He saw nothing else but the balloons above him.


    His task was a hopeless one. The balloons hung too far above him. Even I couldn''t reach them. I might if I jumped with all my might though.


    I should help him. It''s the right thing to do. But how long will that take? There''s a dozen or so balloons. I''ll have to jump a dozen times. and be even more tired than I am now. And that''s assuming I manage to snag one balloon in every jump. Sorry but I have my own problems. I can''t waste time and energy here. It''s not like you''ll die without those balloons, just take it as a life lesson. You should''ve held on tight to the things precious to you.


    "Kid, stop jumping. You''ll trip and fall. I''m sorry, but I''m in a rush. Wait for the next adult," I said.


    I resumed my jog. I really couldn''t afford to waste more time here.


    I heard something fall behind me.


    I paused. Damn it.


    Just as I turned around, a yellow bus roared past on the street to my left. The wind of its passing hit me like a wave, ruffling my hair.


    Was that red paint on its bumper?


    I looked around for the boy who had fallen, but there was no sign of him.


    Nothing but an ominous red smear on the street. The balloons hung above in silence, abandoned.


    I stared at the empty street.


    Wha? What the hell?


    I looked up the street, but the bus was long gone by then.


    The bus was yellow wasn''t it? It''s probably a school bus then. The kid probably got on. Yes, that red stain is just paint. Kids love paint don''t they?


    An urge to check the stain rose in me, but I pushed it down. I had no time.


    I turned around and ran.

 Chapter 3

    My feet pounded on the sidewalk, in harmony with the pounding of my heart. I ran up the street, whether towards my goal or away from my guilt, I couldn''t tell.


    That kid was run over wasn''t he?


    My feet pounded the sidewalk in a, thump-thump-thump-thump.


    It was my fault. I should''ve helped him.


    thu-thump-thu-thump-thu-thump, went my heart.


    I warned him not to jump. It''s not my fault.


    I missed a step and stumbled. I fell for the second time in an hour, getting a close up look at the pavement, but I hardly felt it.


    I hate myself.


    Standing up, I smoothed out my shirt and finger combed my hair. If my hands trembled a little, it was because they were still aching from all that waving around I did earlier.


    I took a deep breath and checked the time. It was 11:25.


    I should''ve at least checked the red stain on the street. To confirm if it was blood or something else. If the boy was run over, there should''ve been a body or something. It doesn''t make sense. Maybe the boy really did just board the school bus. It''s too late to check now though.


    I sighed. What''s done is done. I should notify someone about the possible accident.


    I was about to call the police or an ambulance, but then I remembered that my phone was acting up.


    Looking around, I realized that I had gone quite the distance in my headlong charge up the street. The buildings here had a subtly different style compared to where I had met the boy before, painted in monochromatic colors. I couldn''t be sure because at some point the sky had become overcast. Even at the best of times, I barely paid attention to where I was going, not to mention the past few minutes. The sight of those abandoned balloons was seared in my eyes no matter how far or fast I ran.


    Why did I run?


    I sighed. Now was not the time for this. This section of the street had was almost flat, and in the distance I saw a crowd of 20-30 people gathered on the sidewalk. A stiff breeze made me shiver and stumble back a few steps.


    There are people here after all. I should get them to check on the child.


    As I got closer, I noticed one of the street lanes was blocked off, with four huge vehicles idling beyond the barricade. I almost flinched when I saw their yellow color, then realized they were construction vehicles instead of school buses.


    I paid them no mind and briskly walked up to the closest person. "Afternoon sir, can you please help me?"


    I almost expected them to ignore me like everyone in this godforsaken street had, but fortunately the man turned around and smiled. "Hello there, you look like shit. What happened man?"


    "I know," I smiled in relief. I injected a hint of urgency in my voice and said, "Can you please come with me? I thought I saw a child got run over earlier. I can''t find him anywhere. My phone''s acting up too, so I haven''t called the emergency services."


    The man gasped in shock. "Damn! That''s terrible. Are you sure?"


    I hesitated. "I didn''t see it happen, but one moment the child was there, then a bus sped past, and the child was gone. There was a puddle of red on the street. I think it was blood. Please, could you just search for him? Or at least do you have a phone I can borrow?"This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The man smiled awkwardly. "Ah, sorry man, I''m a bit busy right now. See that?" The man pointed at the building the crowd had gathered around. "It''s our home. It''s about to be unfairly demolished! I need to stay here. Why, these damned bastards had-"


    I interrupted the man, "But the child..."


    "Yes, I''m sorry to hear that. But if like you said, the kid''s gotten run over by a bus, then it''s hopeless. What do you expect us to do?"


    I stared at him blankly. "Could you lend me your phone at least? I need to call the emergency services."


    "Ah sorry again, this is awkward. How should I say this? I don''t have my phone with me. How about you ask someone else? I need to go prevent those bastards from tearing my house down. Sorry, excuse me." Without another word, the man walked deeper into the crowd.


    A scoff of disbelief escaped my lips. I had no time to waste though, so I approached another person at the edge of the crowd and went over it all again.


    But it was useless. One and all, they responded in the same way. That they were sorry it happened, and no, they were really busy and couldn''t check. Am I sure I saw it right? Sorry, but they can''t lend me their phones and had to go.


    How could they do this? How could they hear about a child''s possible death and just move on with their lives? What''s so important that they can''t spare the time?


    With a jolt, I checked the time. It was 11:30. I bit my lips in frustration.


    Can¡¯t they even bother to lend me a phone? No one has it with them? Bullshit! Who doesn''t keep their phone around in this day and age? They just don''t want to get entangled in something they considered bothersome.


    I paused.


    Do I really want to borrow the phone to call emergency services? Was it really just for that? Not to call a taxi? Like they said, the child is dead. Even if he wasn''t, he''ll be dead by now. I ran and left him.


    A bitter smile creased my lips. Ah, I''m the worst. I was so disgusted with the crowd. For their indifference and callousness. Am I any different? Aren''t I worse?


    Enough, it''s too late for the child. If the child was really run over, then it was too late the moment I decided to ignore him. Nothing I can do for him now. If I really want to call the emergency services, doing it in half an hour will make no difference at this point. I should reach the Tower first. I can use the office''s phone then.


    I pushed my way through the crowd. I''ve wasted too much time here. At least it allowed me to recover and catch my breath a bit.


    Once I got past the crowd, the rest of the street was revealed to me. I would need to go downhill from here. There''s still a lot of ground to cover until the end of the street, but I could already see it now. The street ended at an crossroad branching left and right. Lining the end of the street was a series of two-story houses complete with lawns bordering the sidewalk. From my position at the crest of the street, I was able to look past these houses to the river flowing behind them. And there, on the other side of the river and just barely visible, the Stratos Tower stood tall and proud.


    My heart lifted at the sight of my destination.


    The bus driver didn''t lie after all. I just need to reach the end of the street and cross the river. I still have half an hour. I can do this.


    For a moment I considered asking the crowd behind me for directions on how to cross the river, but they were too busy arguing with the foreman of the construction crew.


    I hadn''t tried to talk to him earlier had I? Maybe he''ll agree to lend me his phone or look for the child? No, it''s useless to rely on others.


    I left them to their argument and leaned forward, trying to make out details of the river. At a closer look, I saw a bridge I could cross if I took the right path at the end of the street.


    Just then, I heard raised voices behind me.


    "You can''t do this!"


    "Compensate us properly!"


    "You''re breaking the law!"


    "Shut up! You''re obstructing our operations. I don''t care what ya''ll think, just stay behind the line. I won''t care if you get hurt otherwise!"


    I was somewhat amused at the crowd''s distress. I thought they were protesting the demolition of their homes, but it looked like they just wanted more money. A greedy lot who''d rather go after money than help a child.


    I grimaced as my heart twinge. I rubbed my chest and turned around to watch the demolition.


    I''ll just watch for a bit. I''m probably still out of breath. I really should just jog from here on out. It''ll be faster in the long run.


    The crowd was gathering and shouting at a man wearing a safety vest and hard helmet. His face was red from all the shouting. "I''ve had enough! We have work to do! Do it!"


    One of the construction vehicles moved, swinging a wrecking ball into the apartment building. It crumbled in an instant.


    A piercing scream rang out from the building.


    Was there someone still in there?


    I looked around at the crowd, but they showed no signs of hearing it, still shouting at the foreman.


    I should check that out.


    I hesitated and glanced down at the time¡ªit was 11:34.


    It must''ve been the wind.


    I turned around and jogged down the street, eyes on the Stratos Tower in the distance.

 Chapter 4

    The jog down the street wasn¡¯t as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, it was downright enjoyable. Aided by the pull of gravity instead of working against it, my feet felt light despite my growing fatigue. The wind caressed my hair as the end of the street grew ever closer in my vision. A tentative smile creased the corners of my lips.


    There was freedom in letting go I suppose, in letting yourself fall to your destination. There was danger in letting go too, unfortunately. Case in point, I felt myself losing control of my speed as I jogged, hurtling towards what I knew would be a painful tumble down the street.


    I tried to keep myself in check and slow down, but it was harder than I thought it would be. I¡¯ve built up too much momentum. Besides, wasn¡¯t I worried about making it in time for the presentation? Jogging at this speed should be fine as long as I don¡¯t fall and injure myself.


    The added challenge of balancing speed and self-preservation took up most of my attention, warding away more distasteful thoughts.


    I passed by a few other pedestrians, skillfully weaving my way around them as if I¡¯ve spent my whole life doing it. The pedestrians didn''t give my passing figure anything more than a glance, gazes fixed firmly to the distance.


    I briefly thought about and dismissed the idea of stopping so I could borrow a phone from one of them. I¡¯ve had enough trying to rely on others. It never worked. Still, it was comforting to finally see some pedestrians. For a moment, I really thought that there was something seriously wrong with this street. The only other people I¡¯ve seen were that crowd of people at the construction site and the boy with the balloons. The boy¡­


    On second thought, there was indeed something slightly off about this street. The cars were going too fast for comfort. Was there no speed limit here? Isn''t that dangerous? An accident was bound to happen at this rate. In fact, an accident had already happened, hadn''t it?


    No, maybe I remembered it wrong. Maybe there was already spilled red paint or some other red liquid next to the boy back then and I just didn''t notice it. Typical of me, really.


    Yes, I just didn¡¯t notice it and spooked myself. The boy just got on the bus, and when the bus departed, it splashed red paint all over. Doesn''t that make more sense than a school bus running a child over? It would also explain how the boy disappeared afterwards.


    I should still notify the authorities once I¡¯ve reached the tower, just in case. It would also put the last of my worries to rest. What was this street called, anyway?


    I shot a glance to my right at the closest street sign: 10 Amberhill Avenue.


    In the brief moment I looked away, I slipped and lost my footing. I stifled a scream as I tumbled down the street painfully, hoping I hadn¡¯t injured my feet. My heart pounded furiously as I tentatively stood up. That¡¯ll teach me a lesson about getting distracted while jogging downhill. I walked a few steps to check my condition. Fortunately, I only picked up a few bruises and could continue on foot.


    I suddenly noticed that there was a soft drizzle of rain pouring down on me. I picked up my briefcase from the slick sidewalk and glanced backwards curiously. There was a clear line of wet and dry area on the sidewalk. That was the first time I¡¯ve seen anything like it. I crossed the line to the dry section and saw the rain stop falling in front of me.


    I stepped backward, and it started raining again. Huh? What the hell?


    A step forward. No rain. A step backward. Rain.


    What the hell is this? Wait, I don¡¯t have time for this.


    Whatever weird weather was going on here, it doesn¡¯t change the fact that I need to reach the tower before noon. I turned and jogged onward down the street, lifting my briefcase above me to shield myself from the rain.


    I had to slow my pace to prevent another sleep, but eventually I approached the end of the street. As I neared the end, I encountered more and more pedestrians.


    I heard the chatter of the crowd before I saw it. A cacophony of voices mixed into an indecipherable buzz. Desperate to be proven wrong, I sped up my pace. Soon enough, I reached the end of the street and stood at the end of the left sidewalk as the 4-lanes street branched split to the left and right.


    My shoulder slumped as I took in the sight of the right branch. The path was absolutely packed with people. It wouldn¡¯t be appropriate to describe it as a crowd at this point. A sea of humans drowned the right branch path as far as I could see. There were so many people that they spilled over from the sidewalk into the street, blocking vehicles from passing through.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    I turned my head to look at the left path¡ªit was deserted. I had only taken a few steps to the left path when I stopped in place. A plume of black smoke was rising in the distance.


    A fire? But it¡¯s raining though? Must be a big fire then.


    I checked the time¡ªit was 11:45.


    A chill ran down my spine.


    Left or right? I don¡¯t have much time left. Just decide. The bridge I need to cross the river was on the right path, right? The crowd would slow me down, but at least I won¡¯t be going in the wrong direction. Right path it is.


    That meant I had to cross the street. I only had half the distance to cover since the street had split to the sides, but I was reluctant to cover any distance on the street. The memory of being almost run over by that black sports car would haunt my nights for sure. What was I thinking, really.


    Fortunately, I wouldn¡¯t need to risk my life to cross the street. At the end of the sidewalk ahead of me were stairs leading up to a pedestrian overpass. The footbridge started at two places: the end of the left sidewalk where I was and the end of the right sidewalk across the streets to my right. Then the footbridge converged together in the middle, and terminated all the way across the street in front of me. From overhead I imagine it would look like an inverted letter Y.


    I climbed the stairs to the footbridge two at a time, then paused in the middle intersection. From my elevated position, I had a clearer view of the right path. It wasn¡¯t as bad as I thought it would be. The crowd seemed to converge on a mansion a bit further down the right path. I would make better time once I got past that point.


    I finished crossing the footbridge, ran down the stairs, then strode to the right. Gripping my briefcase handle firmly, I took a deep breath and dove into the crowd.


    Despite the rain, it was stifling hot from the body heat. The stench of sweat assaulted my nose and my ears were filled with the drone of the crowd.


    "Excuse me, coming through!" I shouted as I slipped my way through.


    "Excuse me! Excuse m-"


    Ah fuck! Who just elbowed me? Fine, I don¡¯t have time for this. I''ll just force my way through.


    I hunched down, hugged my briefcase to my chest with my right arm, and parted the people in front of me with my left arm.


    It¡¯s a bit like swimming. A sea of humans indeed.


    Not that I had the time to go swimming recently. Not since I grew up, at least.


    I swam in the sea of humans, collecting bruises and curses both. As I grew accustomed to the cacophony of noises, I made out snippets of conversation here and there.


    ¡°-terrible. Just terrible what happened to him¡­¡±


    ¡°-met 20 years ago. Just thought I¡¯d give him a visit and¡­¡±


    ¡°Who would¡¯ve thought he¡¯d suddenly fall ill and¡­¡±


    ¡°Who am I? Who are you? I¡¯m fast friends with him and haven¡¯t never seen you before. It¡¯s opportunistic bastards like you that¡­¡±


    ¡°Who the hell is pushing me?!¡±


    ¡°His children are fighting each other. It¡¯s a bloodbath, I say¡­¡±


    ¡°Who do you support? Personally, I think the eldest son seem the most suitable for the inheritance¡­¡±


    ¡°Fuck!¡±


    ¡°Who are all these people? Seriously, a bunch of vultures¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡±


    ¡°When are they going to let us in? What a disgrace¡­¡±


    ¡°Ugh, I think I¡¯m going to be sick.¡±


    A jolt of alarm ran through me as I heard that last one. I desperately moved to the side and away from the voice. I did not want to be covered in vomit.


    The stench of sweat was bad enough without adding vomit into the mix. A pang of sympathy ran through me as I heard someone vomiting behind me. I thought I might be sick myself.


    The crowd recoiled away from the vomiting man, and I allowed myself to be carried along onward to my destination. I glanced down at my wrist¡ªit was 11:49. I was making surprisingly good time, and soon I would be past the mansion the crowd was converging on.


    If I flat out sprinted afterwards, I could still barely reach the tower before noon. Maybe I¡¯ll even have time to change my clothes.


    I redoubled my efforts, pushing and shoving people away. Then a shrill scream rang out and the crowd grew chaotic. Like a raft at sea, I was tossed about in every direction. Before long I couldn''t differentiate which direction was the right path. The crowd had devolved into a turbulent mess.


    I hunched down and gritted my teeth, planting both feet firmly on the ground. In a flash of insight, I looked skywards in both directions. In front of me was a plume of black smoke, behind me¡­ nothing but dark clouds. I turned around and headed away from the smoke.


    I saw people getting trampled but looked away. I had no more time to waste.


    The press of bodies overwhelmed all my senses. My head spun as I bulled my way through. The sea of humans seemed to have no end. The crowd was screaming, I was screaming too. An incoherent roar of defiance.


    I can still make it!


    At that moment, the watch on my left wrist vibrated with a soft beep!


    The sound cut through the drone of the crowd and sundered my heart. Everything seemed to fade away.


    I lost strength in my limbs and fell like a puppet with its strings cut.


    It was 12:00. I was too late. My vision darkened and I fell forward.


    Instinctively, I caught myself before my face could hit the pavement.


    But something was wrong. I could no longer feel the crowd around me. No body heat smothering me, no sweaty scent assaulting my nose, no screaming filling my ears. My body felt amazing even, all the scrapes and bruises I¡¯ve collected disappearing like magic.


    I heard the hiss of a bus door closing behind me. Startled, I looked up from the pavement.


    There was no crowd, nor rain. Sunlight poured down on the colorful but lifeless buildings on both sides of the deserted street. I recognized this spot.


    I was somehow back at the start of the street. The exact spot I sprawled at after that damned bus driver pushed me off. In fact, wasn¡¯t that the same exact bus I saw disappearing in the distance?


    What the hell is going on?


    I stood up in confusion, hands smoothing out my clothes and finger combing my hair.


    Out of habit, I glanced down to check the time. My hair stood on end.


    It was 11:00.

 Chapter 5

    I stared at my watch, my mind numb from shock. I lifted my left arm closer to my face, thinking I had seen it wrong. But no, it was December 21, 11:01 AM.


    What the hell? No, really, what the hell?


    I took in my surroundings¡ªthe empty street, the lifeless buildings, the sun shining brightly from above, the damned bus disappearing on the horizon. Everything was exactly as I remembered.


    Did I hit my head when I fell just now? Was all that just a hallucination? It felt too vivid for that.


    In a daze, I picked up my briefcase and shambled up the sidewalk. I still needed to reach Stratos Tower before noon. The bright, cheery sunlight was comforting, a balm that soothed my confusion.


    It¡¯s a beautiful day. I haven¡¯t really noticed it before.


    The thought reminded me of the abrupt weather changes in the hallucination.


    Yes, that just didn''t make sense. How did I dream up something like that? I should really stop pulling all-nighters. One of these days, I''ll pull one too many and get a heart attack or something.


    A car sped past to my right. I watched it go idly, struck by a sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu.


    Doesn¡¯t that look familiar? I can''t tell. The buildings do look familiar, but all cars look the same to me. Still, I¡¯m wasting time, aren¡¯t I? I should try to hitchhike.


    The thought was bitter on my tongue. I really didn''t want to beg for a ride, but I had to be realistic. I couldn''t let the bitter disappointment of being ignored get in the way of my goals. Besides, that was all just a hallucination. When I heard the next car coming, I turned around and waved my left hand to flag it down.


    It sped past me, like I had half expected it to. A sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu struck me once more.


    Was it not a hallucination, after all? Everything is the same. What''s happening?


    I jogged up the street, dredging up the details of the car that would pass by next.


    Ah fuck, I really don''t remember. What color was it? Wait... there was that black sports car after the next car, right?


    That car, I remembered clearly. So I decided to wait for it to confirm things. I glanced down at my watch¡ªit was 11:12.


    If I remember correctly, another car will pass by at 11:13, then the black car immediately after.


    Indeed, a dark green car approached within the minute. I slowed to a stop and made a half-hearted attempt at flagging it down. Without knowing exactly why, I decided to memorize the color and shape of it.


    I lifted a hand to shade my eyes and peered eagerly at the horizon. My heart paced in my chest. Any second now, the black car would pass by. If it really did, then it was undeniable¡ªI had somehow gone back in time. Or perhaps I had seen the future? It doesn¡¯t matter which one was true, nor how or why it happened; what mattered was that I could make use of it. That I was given another chance.


    The seconds ticked by, and soon a minute passed. Then another. It was already 11:15.


    Was I mistaken? Maybe it was all a hallucination after all.


    Despite the evidence, I still believed it was all real. Denying it would be no different from denying events of yesterday.


    Wait. The boy would fall around this time, right?


    My heart skipped a beat at the thought. I turned and jogged up the street.


    Didn''t we decide he boarded the bus instead of getting run over? Also, it might all be a hallucination from guilt or something.


    I sped up, now running.


    Just in case. Yes, just in case it was all true, I better hurry up. Even if it was all a hallucination, I need to quickly reach the end of the street anyway. Faster!


    Never mind that I would make better time jogging rather than running. I sped up to a sprint, breathing in ragged gasps.


    Whoever invented dress shoes should be forced to run in them while chased by rabid dogs. It fucking hurts! I really should start exercising after I get through this. Damn, I¡¯m dying.


    In the distance I saw a boy of 10 years old jumping up to reach the balloons stuck above him. My already strained heart tightened at the sight.


    It was all real! Haha¡­ ha fuck.


    "Hey..." I called out weakly, still out of breath. I slowed to a jog to gather my breath, then tried again. "Hey! Kid! Stop jumping, you''ll fall!"Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The boy didn''t heed me, still jumping with all his might.


    I glanced at the empty street behind me, then sped up to a sprint once more, forcing my body to move faster than I thought it was capable of. When I got close, I leaped and snagged a balloon with my left hand. I landed heavily and felt my ankles strain from the impact.


    Panting, I turned around to face the boy. "Here. Your. Balloon. Stop jumping now."


    The boy looked up at me, then at the offered balloon, then back at me.


    I kneeled and offered a smile. "Go on then, take it. It''s what you wanted, isn''t it?"


    The boy looked away from the balloon in my left hand and started jumping again.


    What? What''s he doing? Did he want a different one or something?


    I looked up at the remaining balloons above us. There was still more than a dozen of them.


    Fuck me raw. This will take forever.


    The sight of the red splattered abandoned balloons rose unbidden from my memory. I examined the street beside us. There were no red stains there.


    Putting my briefcase down with a sigh, I looked up at the balloons above.


    Was this really how I want to spend this second chance?


    I clenched my jaw. "Which one do you want, kid?"


    The boy didn''t answer. Now that I thought about it, I hadn¡¯t heard him say a single word throughout all this. Was he mute?


    With a sigh, I gathered myself and jumped with all my might, snatching another balloon. I offered it to the boy, but it was ignored again. I transferred it to my left hand to join the other rejected balloon.


    I jumped again. And again.


    Each time, the boy refused the offered balloon.


    At least he''s looking at me instead of jumping now. But seriously, I don''t have the time for this.


    I glanced down at my watch¡ªit was 11:17. Then at the balloons hanging above us. A quick count revealed there were exactly 13 left.


    "Seriously, kid. Which one do you want? Just point and I''ll get it for you."


    The boy didn''t respond, staring at me mutely.


    "Do you understand me?" I asked.


    The boy nodded.


    I sighed in relief. "What do you want me to help you with, then? Why are these balloons no good?" I outstretched the four balloons in my left hand.


    The boy looked up at the balloon above us again. I knew that look. He was about to start jumping again.


    Goddamn it all!


    I scratched my head roughly, glanced up at the balloons, at the street behind us, then at the street ahead of us.


    Where''s the bus? I¡¯ve just realized the school bus should¡¯ve arrived by now. Why are things different this time? The black sports car didn¡¯t show up when it should¡¯ve either.


    While I was lost in my thoughts, the boy had started jumping again.


    The danger should¡¯ve passed now, right? Haven¡¯t I done enough?


    I bit my lips. "Fine, fine. Stop jumping. I''ll get them for you."


    If I stayed any longer to help the boy, I would need to somehow flag down a ride to reach the tower before noon. A tinge of regret rose up, but I had made my decision. I would see this through to the end. I kept an eye out on the street behind us even as I jumped for the balloons.


    Soon, I saw a car approaching in the distance. "Be right back, kid. Stay put."


    I ran to the middle of the street and waved both hands above my head, still clutching the balloons tightly.


    "Hey! Please stop!"


    The approaching silver car didn''t even slow down. I had a sinking feeling about how this was going to go. True enough, I had to dodge to the side to avoid getting run over. I didn''t even bother shouting at its retreating taillights. It would be a waste of energy.


    I walked back up the sidewalk next to the boy. He was jumping for the balloons again. I stifled down the urge to curse out loud.


    "Hey, stop that. You''ll fall and hurt yourself. Seriously. Here, I''ll do it for you."


    And so it went. I would jump to grab a balloon string, offer it to the boy, get rejected, then jump for the next one. Each time a car approached, I would run to the middle of the street, hoping they would stop. Each time I would need to dodge around the car to avoid getting run over, hope deflating in my chest.


    After the latest fruitless attempt at flagging a car down, I trudged back to join the boy on the sidewalk. My body was heavy with fatigue, my ankles were shot to hell, and I could hardly breathe, but I was smiling. There was only a single balloon left hanging above us. It was a bright yellow balloon with a smiley face drawn on it.


    I said the now obligatory phrase, "Stop jumping kid, I''ll get it for you."


    Just my luck. It was the last balloon after all.


    A car engine echoed behind us. "Hang on a minute kid, I''ll be right back. Seriously, stop jumping. I''ll get the last balloon for you when I get back."


    The boy didn''t heed me. I ran to the middle of the street and waved at the approaching car, most of my attention still on the jumping boy.


    After one particularly daring jump, the boy stumbled and fell to the street. My heart leaped to my throat, and for a moment, I forgot where I was. Unfortunately, I was quickly reminded of that when the approaching car sideswiped me.


    The impact threw me off my feet. Most of the balloons I''ve gathered so far exploded with a POP! The rest floated up to the sky. Pain bloomed from the entire left section of my body. It was unbearable, but at the same time somewhat distant.


    Ah, I''m screwed. Was I just hit by a car? What the hell!? Ah, I''m really screwed. I can''t feel my legs. Why am I not in more pain? Ah, I''m really, really screwed. I can''t call an ambulance.


    I laid sprawled on the street, gazing blankly at the balloons floating above me. Then a rumble caught my attention. I forced my body up on my right elbow and turned to look at the boy who had fallen. He lay motionless on the street, stunned by his fall.


    In the corner of my eyes, I saw a flash of yellow approaching. The world sharpened to clarity.


    "Kid! Kid, get out of there! Ah, fuck!"


    I crumpled back down when I tried to stand. I dragged my body forward with my right arm, bracing myself for the pain, but it was strangely absent.


    I crawled forward, bit by bit. I didn''t make it in time. With a roar, the bus sped past in front of me so fast I saw nothing but a blur of yellow.


    Something warm and sticky splattered onto my face. It tasted like iron. I shuddered as the world grew silent.


    There was nothing left of the boy. Nothing except a bloodstain on the pavement and a single balloon stained with blood. I gazed vacantly at the spreading pool of crimson. I knew I was deceiving myself when I thought the boy boarded the bus instead of getting run over last time. But it was one thing to suspect something, and another thing entirely to see it happen right in front of your eyes.


    A distance rumble diverted my attention. A black sports car was hurtling towards me.


    Ah, now you show up. I wonder if I will regress if I die?


    The last thing I saw before getting run over was the single, bloodstained balloon still stuck on the awning while the rest floated up towards the bright sky.


    A moment of weightlessness that stretched for an eternity, then I fell forward to the sidewalk. I caught myself before my face hit the pavement. Behind me, the bus door closed with a hiss. It rumbled away to the distance as I stood up. I could feel my legs once more. No signs of pain or fatigue.


    I glanced down at my watch, knowing what I would find.


    Indeed. It was December 21, 11:00 AM.

 Chapter 6

    I took a deep, calming breath and looked up at the sky. The sun was shining so brightly; it brought tears to my eyes. I smoothed out my shirt and finger combed my hair, then picked up my briefcase and jogged up the street for the third time.


    Memories of the next hour bubbled up to the surface as I got lost in the motions of jogging.


    Did I die last time? I did, didn''t I? I got run over.


    It didn''t hurt as much as I thought it would. It hurt like hell, of course, but it was also distant, fading away quickly after the initial burst of pain.


    The boy also got run over. I saw it clearly this time.


    Bile rose to my throat as I recalled the sensation of warm blood on my face. I could still see the yellow blur mowing the boy right in front of my eyes, hear the roar of the bus, feel the wind of its passing, and taste the iron on my tongue. I swallowed the urge to vomit and forced the memory away.


    I still didn¡¯t know what was happening to me. Why time kept repeating. But I didn¡¯t care, I was relieved. If there was a third time, there would be a fourth, a fifth, and so on. I¡¯d rather not think too hard about something out of my control.


    This time for sure. This time I will save the boy. I already knew which balloon the child was after, so it should be quick.


    I was half-baked last time. My mom had always told me that trying to catch two rabbits at once will result in catching none. I haven¡¯t thought about her or dad in a while now. Things were just so hectic and busy.


    I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Focus.


    This time I will prevent the boy¡¯s death, no matter how long it would take. I shouldn''t have allowed him to continue jumping last time. I shouldn¡¯t have left him alone in the first place.


    What was I thinking, trying to stop the cars? None of them slowed down despite my efforts. It was useless to hope for help from them. With their windows tinted, they seemed inhuman. As if there was no one driving inside. They clearly have no compunction about running people over to reach their destination.


    A flush of anger rose in me. What was so important that you won¡¯t even slow down to help a child?


    Even the school bus was the same. All the drivers had gone insane and to step on the street meant death. I would not be making that mistake again.


    In the near distance, I saw the boy gawking at the balloons above him. A smile made its way to my lips.


    I skidded to a stop beside him. "Do you need some help, kid? You wanted the yellow one, right?"


    The boy looked at me and tilted his head.


    Without another word, I set my briefcase on the sidewalk and jumped up to grab the yellow balloon.


    I offered it to the boy with a smile. "Here. Go on then, take it."


    The boy looked at the balloon, then back at me.


    My heart sank. Oh, come on. Was this not the one? Which one is it then?


    With a resigned huff, I transferred the balloon to my left hand, then leaped up and grabbed another balloon. I offered it to the boy with hopeful eyes. When he didn¡¯t take it, I hid my disappointment, then jumped up for the next balloon.


    By the time I grabbed the last balloon, I was panting in exhaustion. Several cars had passed by on the street to our right. The black sports car and the school bus were noticeably absent.


    I offered the last balloon to the boy, wishing he''d just take it and stop jumping around.


    The boy looked at the proffered balloon, then the other ones in my other hand. His lips trembled and tears pooled in the corners of his eyes as he looked into my eyes with a heartbroken expression.


    What? No, really, what? Why are you making that face? I''m giving it to you. Here.


    I extended both arms again, offering all the balloons to the boy.


    The boy cried silently, tears streaming down his eyes. Even now, he was entirely silent.


    I don''t get it. Did I do something wrong? Why are you looking at me like I just killed your pet dog?


    Still eerily silent, the boy wiped the tears from his face and ran up the street.


    I froze and watched the boy run away, both hands still outstretched. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    If you didn¡¯t want them, why did you go after them so stubbornly?


    I sighed, then released all the balloons, watching as they floated away into the sky. It reminded me of the last thing I saw before I regressed.


    At least I managed to prevent the boy from getting run over this time.


    It left an unpleasant taste in my mouth to have spent all that time and effort just to make the boy cry, but it was better than having nightmares. I have enough of them as it is.


    No, don¡¯t view it like that. I spent all that time and effort to prevent the boy¡¯s death.


    I stretched and sighed in satisfaction, then glanced at my wrist¡ªit was already 11:30. I started jogging up the street once more. It was starting to feel familiar. I had learned the hard way to set a manageable pace, to regulate my breathing, to position my feet properly.


    To a professional athlete, I imagine it would still look awkward as hell, but I felt more confident with jogging now. When I first started two repetitions ago¡­two hours? Two runs? Yes, when I started two runs ago on my very first run, jogging had felt like torture. It was awkward and tiring. It was still tiring now, but at least it wasn¡¯t as awkward.


    I wonder if this hour would just keep repeating itself. Would I keep improving as I repeat this hour? It was all so surreal and unbelievable. Was there a limit to it? What caused it in the first place? All perfectly good questions with no answers. I decided to just take it all in stride.


    Whatever was happening, it was a good thing. The boy would¡¯ve died without my help. I would never have made it on time for the presentation on the first run. I knew that for a fact now. I still remember it vividly, that feeling of despair and desperation as I drowned in the sea of humans. The second run was no better. I didn''t even make it until the end of the hour, getting run over and dying instead.


    I have died once already.


    Now that was unbelievable. Does this mean I can''t die? Time would just rewind back to 11:00?


    Lost in my musing, I had arrived at the construction site before I knew it. The building had turned to rubble by this point, painting a bleak picture backdropped by the overcast sky.


    I recalled hearing a scream as the building was demolished in the first run, but perhaps that was the true hallucination. I wasn¡¯t really in my right mind back then. An urge to check the rubble and confirm it rose in me, but I didn''t have the time to spare, so I held it in check. Even if someone was buried under all that rubble, it was too late for me to help them anyway.


    Next time. I told myself. How quickly I took the fact that there was a next time for granted.


    Weaving past the arguing crowd, I threw a brief glance at the scowling foreman. He was smoking a cigarette indifferently while surrounded by the crowd. I doubt he could even hear the crowd over the earmuffs he was wearing. I choked back a laugh and paid more attention to where I was going, deterred by the thought of tumbling down again.


    I broke through the crowd and jogged downhill, feeling the wind in my hair. The smile on my lips got a little wider. It wasn''t a bad day after all. It could''ve gone worse.


    I slowed down just a little when I crossed the invisible barrier into the rainy section of the street. The abrupt weather changes still boggled my mind. But after seeing time rewind, I''ve found that my tolerance for weird happenings had increased significantly.


    Once I reached the end of the street, I turned to the left path instead of the right. I could probably force my way through the crowd faster this time, but I doubt I¡¯ll do it fast enough to make it to the tower before noon. Besides, I balked at the thought of diving back into that hot, stinking mess. It had been such a good run; I wanted to end it on a good note.


    The left path would have to do this time. I wanted to see if there was another way to cross the river. If there wasn¡¯t, then there was always next time.


    It suddenly occurred to me how relaxed I was at this moment. If it was the first run, I would¡¯ve been a panicked, sweaty mess at this point. I haven¡¯t even checked the time recently. I did so now¡ªit was 11:45. I smiled and jogged my way further down the left path.


    The plume of black smoke was looking more and more concerning. It had gotten so thick that I couldn¡¯t see the houses across the street clearly now. The air was filled with smoke, and it was getting harder to breathe.


    Can I make it through? Should I turn back after all?


    I decided to go as far as I could. No harm in trying, after all. The crackle of fire and groan of burning wood resounded all around me. It was getting uncomfortably warm.


    I coughed and slowed as the black smoke choked my lungs. Some of the smoke got to my eyes and caused it to tear up. It reminded me of that time when I carelessly rubbed my eyes while cutting chili.


    Fuck, it burns. Should I turn around after all? Let''s go a bit further. Maybe I can still make it through.


    I pushed on, but soon found the way blocked by burning wooden debris. The heat was unbearable now. Through eyes blurred by tears, I tried to chart a safe course, but it was in vain.


    Ah, it seems this path is a bust. I''ll have to use the right path next time, then. Or maybe arrive faster.


    I turned around and ran back. But before long, I found my way back blocked by flaming debris. The houses to my right were unrecognizable. Parts of their walls had crumbled down and covered most of the sidewalk. It was as if the houses had vomited their insides to the street and transformed into blackened, skeletal versions of themselves. I slowed to a crawl and crouched low, trying to avoid the smoke. My head started spinning and I couldn''t stop coughing.


    Ah crap. I might''ve... underestimated this.


    Left with no other choice, I stepped onto the street, trying to find a path through the debris. Flaming chassis of abandoned cars laid scattered everywhere, empty of any passengers. A dark sense of vindication welled up within me. The cars couldn¡¯t outrun everything after all.


    As I passed by one such wreckage, it exploded.


    The impact threw me flying, and steel shrapnel dug at my skin with white hot claws. I landed heavily, incoherent with pain.


    AARRGGHHHH! It hurts! What the hell! It hurts so much! Oh god it burns!


    The pain was indescribable. It was worse than tumbling down the hill, worse than getting hit by a car, worse than watching a child got run over in front of you. Worse than all of those combined.


    A stinging, searing sensation spread through my skin. My nerves felt like they¡¯ve been scrubbed raw then soaked in acid.


    It was hell.


    Just as I felt my mind unravel from pain, I lost consciousness and darkness claimed me.


    A moment of weightlessness that stretched for an eternity, then I was falling forward. I didn''t have the capacity to catch myself this time, falling flat on my face. The pain was miniscule compared to what I had just been through. My mind reeled from the phantom burning sensation still seared in my mind. Like being encased in molten steel.


    I laid motionless on the sidewalk, no different from a corpse.


    Fuck my life.

 Chapter 7

    The warm sunlight covered my back like a comforting blanket as I sprawled bonelessly on the sidewalk. I didn''t feel like getting back up. My limbs twitched every now and then, as if they still remember being burned to a crisp.


    I have such rotten luck. It was all going so well too.


    No, I couldn¡¯t blame luck. It was my own overconfidence that caused this. I thought myself invincible. After all, hadn''t I already died once? What could stop me?


    The painless nature of my first death had led me astray. In a sense, I wasn''t mistaken. I had come back after burning to death this time. I was unscathed physically. Mentally though... I had a sinking feeling that dreams of burning to death will be visiting my nights from today onwards.


    I paused for a moment. Do I still have a today onwards? What if I''m stuck here? What if the hour just repeats infinitely?


    I would never have to face the consequences of my actions. But nothing I do would be of any consequence either. The boy I saved last run would still die this time.


    The thought jolted me up to my knees. I checked the time¡ªit was 11:07. From my estimation, the boy would die at 11:16. I stood up, smoothed my suit, finger-combed my hair, and picked up my briefcase. It was time to face the world again. At the very least, I didn''t want the boy''s death on my conscience.


    As I jogged up the street, I mulled over the past three runs. I had only wanted to reach the Stratos Tower before noon. A simple, straightforward goal.


    Was that too much to ask for? How did that end up with me burning to death? What have I done to deserve this?


    I scoffed to myself. Who am I kidding? If hell really exists, then that''s where I was heading when I die. Let''s not brood. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.


    I breathed in and out at a measured pace, expelling gloomy thoughts with each exhale. The movements of jogging up a hill were liberating. I should''ve picked up jogging sooner. I had always valued movement over stagnation. How ironic it was then, to be stuck repeating the same hour repeatedly.


    Soon I saw the boy in the distance ahead. A wave of discouragement washed over me. Nothing had changed. It all seemed pointless. Even if I prevented him from dying this run, I would need to do it again on the next run. On the other hand, even if I didn''t save him, he¡¯d still be fine next run. Why bother?


    I slowed to a stop next to the boy and leaped for the yellow balloon. I offered it to the boy absentmindedly, knowing it would be refused.


    It wasn¡¯t just the boy. Even if I did manage to reach Stratos Tower before noon, wouldn''t time just revert to 11:00?


    I need to figure this out. Let''s review. What''s happening? The hour repeats to 11:00 every time I die, or an hour has passed.


    As I expected, the boy ignored the yellow balloon in my hand, attention focused on the balloon above. I grabbed the next balloon and offered it.


    How and why is it happening? I have no idea. Is it only happening on this street? I''ll have to check that next run. Why am I the only one who remembers? I have no idea.


    The boy ignored the balloon. I jumped for the next one and offered it to the boy.


    Haha fuck. I know nothing then. Is it too egotistical of me to think it was because I didn''t make it to the tower in time?


    Rejected. Jumped for another balloon and offered it to the boy.


    It''s worth checking at least. Since I¡¯m the only one who¡¯s aware of the time loop, it¡¯s logical that it has something to do with me, right? I''ll try and make it to the tower and see if that stops it.


    Rejected. I was to jump for the next balloon when a thought struck me.


    This is taking too long. Is this really the best use of my time? Since I can repeat this hour endlessly, I have an infinite amount of time now. But the windows of opportunity are still limited.


    The sensation of burning to death knocked on my heart like an unwelcome guest. I trembled.


    I must figure out this time loop, not play hero. Which means I should leave now.


    I looked at the four rejected balloons in my hand, biting my lips. Their strings tugged at my hand, as if urging me to let go. I did, watching as they floated up to join the rest. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I don''t care anymore. No matter what happens, I will cross the river and reach the tower this time.


    I sighed, then knelt in front of the boy and looked him in the eyes. I was about to place both hands on the boy''s shoulders, but stopped myself, letting them fall back down. "Listen, kid. This is for your own good.¡±


    I made my voice as stern as possible. ¡°Don''t jump after the balloons anymore. Listen to me. Please. You''ll get hurt. You''ll fall, and a big scary bus will come and run you over. Do you understand?"


    The boy nodded.


    I smiled. "Good. You won''t jump anymore?"


    The boy shook his head.


    "Wait, does that mean no, you won''t jump anymore, or no, you''ll jump anyways?"


    The boy nodded.


    I pinched the bridge of my nose and refrained from cursing out loud. "I''m serious. This is serious. You''ll die if you jump. Do you understand?"


    The boy nodded.


    "Good. Good. Take care kid."


    I decisively turned and left without another word. I recognized that look in his eyes. The boy would start jumping soon.


    I hardened my heart. I had tried my best to dissuade him, and I couldn''t just stay next to him for half an hour. Even if the boy died because of this, it wouldn''t matter since he''d still be fine in the next run anyway.


    The boy''s heartbroken expression crossed my mind.


    Yes, helping the boy will just make him sad.


    A sad, rueful smile tugged the corners of my lips. I hate myself.


    I jogged up the street at a steady pace, leaving the boy behind. As I got further and further away, the sunlight began to dim. The wind picked up, turning stiff and cold. The lack of sunlight leeched world of colors. It was a gradual and subtle change I had been too preoccupied to notice the last three times.


    The street grew flatter, indicating I was near the demolition site. I recalled the resounding scream that rang out as the building was demolished in my very first run.


    I don¡¯t care. Just leave it.


    Nothing I did now would matter anyway.


    I slowed to a stop next to the foreman. I needed to catch my breath.


    ¡°Afternoon sir. Are you sure the building¡¯s empty?¡± I said.


    Before the foreman could reply, a man jumped out of the crowd nearby. ¡°None of your business mister! Move along! Is seeing our home destroyed funny to you?¡±


    I paused. Huh? Shouldn''t they be glad for any delays to the demolition? Something''s not right here. Whatever, it''s true that it''s none of my business.


    I left them to it and jogged downhill, slowing down as I passed the border to the rainy section of the street. Now that I thought about it, these abrupt weather changes might provide clues to the nature of the time loop. I¡¯ll examine them when I have the time.


    Once I reached the end of the street, I turned the corner to the left path without slowing down, slipping slightly on the slippery sidewalk. I looked up at the sky ahead. There was no smoke yet. My heart lifted and my stride lengthened. I broke into a run, knowing the whole street would be on fire soon. I didn''t relish the promise of burning to death again. Once is more than enough.


    Soon, I ran past the spot I died on in the last run. I shuddered and broke into a sprint. It was only when I passed the section that was blocked by flaming debris in the last run that I allowed myself to slow down to a walk. I smiled in relief.


    I should be safe even if the fire breaks out now.


    Ahead of me, I saw a small turn to the right towards the river. My smile widened.


    This is promising. I would need to cross the street though. Damn, I should''ve crossed earlier. It''s too late to run back to the footbridge now.


    I decided to risk it. The worst thing that could happen was getting run over. Been there, done that. It was infinitely better than burning to death. I sprinted across the street, heart hammering in my chest.


    An engine roared to my right. I dove down to the sidewalk ahead of me. A blur of black sped past behind me, the wind of its passing causing my suit to billow. I glanced back at it with a smirk. It was the black sports car. I could avoid it after all.


    It seemed the black car would arrive to run me down anytime I stepped on the street, the same way the school bus would come for the boy. They might provide clues to the time loop too. I noted it down and continued on my way.


    The side path heading towards the river split the left path further in half, making it a one lane street. The paved stone beneath my feet abruptly ended, replaced with a gravel path. The gravel crunched beneath my feet as I walked to the banks of the river.


    The river was a blue so dark it was almost black. It was opaque and flowed so slowly, for a moment I thought it was solid ground.


    Nearby, I spotted a wooden rowboat, barely more than a raft. I broke into a wide grin at the sight. Without hesitation, I threw my briefcase in and pushed the raft to the river, straining hard against the gravel.


    I really hope this raft won''t sink. Surely fate is not that cruel.


    The raft didn''t sink. With an exultant yell, I jumped on board and pushed away from the banks with both oars.


    My arms strained awkwardly against the oars. The raft rotated around in a lazy circle. Somehow, I had managed to make the boat face where I had originally pushed off. Fortunately, the initial push off the riverbank had created enough momentum that the raft was still moving towards the opposite shore.


    I tried to reassert control over the raft, rowing on only one side to turn it in the right direction. After a long and sweaty struggle where I collected a not insignificant amount of splinters, I finally pointed the raft in the right direction.


    Tentatively, I tried rowing. I made sure to use an equal amount of strength this time, and the raft crookedly floated towards the opposite shore.


    I was making progress. I smiled, lost in the challenge of rowing. It was like jogging all over again. Although it was awkward and tiring at first, I was confident I would quickly improve. The first step was always the hardest, and I¡¯ve taken many such first steps throughout my life. This would just be another first step.


    A resonant Ding! echoed across the silent river. I startled at the sound, looking around in wariness. A burst of recognition ran through me. I hurriedly fumbled at my right pants pocket and took out my phone. The notification light flickered on and off like the light of hope in my chest. With trembling fingers, I unlocked my phone.


    I have just received an email.

 Chapter 8

    I stared at the phone in my hands. It still had no reception or internet. But the email notification proved that the problem wasn''t with my phone, it was the location I was in.


    Does this mean I''m moving away from the affected area?


    I paused. Does this have something to do with the time loop? Like it''s blocking the area off somehow? If I go far enough, would I be able to break free from it?


    My heart paced faster at the thought. I grabbed both oars firmly and hastily rowed towards the opposite shore. The rain was still coming down in a drizzle. It made the oars slippery against my grip.


    A profound sense of relief washed over me. I had tried not to think about the time loop since there was nothing I could do, but the idea that I might be stuck repeating the same hour for eternity had been weighing heavily on my mind. It was a fate worse than death.


    At first, I wanted to deny it, to dismiss it as a hallucination. But running away from reality disgusted me. Sure, I frequently twisted reality to conform to my worldview. I could even justify all the distasteful actions I¡¯ve done for my own convenience. But I had never rejected reality in its entirety.


    Since I had to accept it, as unbelievable as it was, I twisted my perspective of the time loop. I only thought about the positive aspects of the time loop, thinking of it as a second chance. But deep down I was afraid. I could admit that now. That I was afraid I was doomed to stagnate, like a hamster running in a hamster wheel.


    A moment of inattention sent the raft spinning wildly. I spent some time correcting its course, cursing myself.


    Although receiving the email right then might just be a coincidence, I chose to believe it was a clue to breaking free from the time loop. That it was because I had travelled far enough away. If I could only cross this river, everything would go back to normal. Burning to death, being run over, the weird weather, everything will just be a bad memory, a passing dream. The boy''s death too, would be¡­


    The boy... He must be dead by now, huh?


    I glanced down at the time. It was 11:45. According to my estimation, the raft would run aground in another 5 minutes. Which meant I had 10 minutes to reach the tower. It would be a bit tight, but doable. I didn¡¯t even need to do it this run. If I practice my rowing a few more times in future runs, I could do it faster and would have even more time to spare. Enough to take a shower, change to a spare suit, and compose myself before the presentation.


    It would be perfect. All I had to do to bring that bright future to fruition was ignore the boy''s death. Saving him would take too long. By the time I grabbed all the balloons, it would be 11:30. The fire would start at around 11:40. Even if I sprinted with all my might after saving the boy, it was physically impossible to reach the left path before the fire started. And so.


    Could I leave the boy to his death? My lips twisted to a bitter smile.


    Deep down I knew I could. Didn''t I do it already this run? And even before that, on the very first run. Didn''t I leave the boy to his fate even though I knew it was dangerous? I didn''t know he would die of course, but I knew jumping around like that was dangerous.


    I tucked both oars inside the raft. It had enough momentum to reach the shore even without my intervention and I was afraid I would mess it up. I closed my eyes and cradled my head in my arms, wracked with guilt and indecision.


    For my own future, I had given my best effort in anything required of me. For my bright future, I would do anything. I would even leave a boy to suffer certain death. It wasn¡¯t my fault. This was just the shape of the world. Survival of the fittest. Even though it had been cloaked under a veneer of civility in recent times, the world had always been about survival of the fittest.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    It was about competition. Even just being born involved competition. I vaguely recalled an interesting bit of trivia¡ªthat the probability of a specific egg and sperm cell meeting was 1 in 400 quadrillion. Then even living your life would be a struggle. If you want a safe, easy life, you need a good job. Getting a good job meant competing with others for the same job. There was nothing wrong with that. Competition was crucial to differentiate wheat from chaff.


    As my parents often tell me, I have to be the best. There was no place for weak-willed sympathy. There is nothing wrong with putting yourself first. Everybody does that.


    A dark chuckle escaped my lips. Even the people I¡¯ve condemned recently did no wrong. The cars on the street and crowd of people on the demolition site weren¡¯t obligated to help. They were putting themselves first and it was foolish of me to expect aid from them. It was even more foolish to be disappointed and hate them for refusing. The world is not that soft. So why was I hesitating?


    Just abandon the child. Why was it my responsibility to prevent his death in the first place? I didn''t cause it. He chose to leap headlong into his death. Even after I explained it all to him and he knew he would die; he chose to jump anyway. Even when I saved the boy, all I did was make him sad. He would blame me instead of being grateful.


    I could have everything I had ever wanted, everything I had worked hard for all my life. I just had to turn a blind eye to the boy¡¯s death. Wasn''t this just who I was as a person? Someone who could look away from people''s suffering as long as it benefitted me. As long as I didn''t directly cause the suffering. As long as it wasn''t right in front of my eyes. As long as, as long as...


    It was all excuses. I know I¡¯m not a good man. I couldn¡¯t even look at myself in the mirror. I helped the boy because I didn''t want to feel guilty for his death. To soothe what¡¯s left of my withered conscience.


    So why am I still feeling so guilty? Why can''t I get him out of my mind? Why?!


    The raft grated on gravel, jolting me out of my thoughts. I had arrived on the opposite shore. But I couldn¡¯t bring myself to step off the raft. Thunder roared above me and the pouring rain had soaked me to my skin now. But I could barely feel it, lost in my thoughts.


    I was greedy. I wanted to make it to the Stratos Tower before noon, but I also wanted to prevent the child''s death. Not out of the goodness of my heart, but because I¡¯ve had enough of nightmares. It would''ve been perfect if I was someone who could ignore the child''s plight, or if I was someone who could sacrifice my own future for the life of a child. But I wasn''t. I was too half-baked.


    My eyes fell on the battered digital watch on my left wrist. It was 11:49.


    I was just like this watch. Worn and battered. It wasn''t a fancy, analogue watch that exudes class and atmosphere, more a fashion statement than a timekeeping tool. It also wasn''t a sleek smartwatch with a thousand and one functions that could keep up with the demands of the modern era. It was simple, boring, half-baked, and easily replaced. Just like me.


    A sad smile touched my lips. It wasn''t that I couldn''t decide to abandon the child. Deep down, I knew the choice had already been made. But I couldn''t act on it. I didn''t have enough determination.


    I craned my head to look at the Stratos Tower in front of me. It was so close. All I had to do now was run to it. Once I got far enough away, the time loop would lose effect. Why else would I be able to receive that email otherwise?


    Ah wait. I haven¡¯t checked that email, have I?


    It seemed unimportant amidst the revelations. It was only now that I was casting for a distraction from my dilemma that I remembered it.


    I took my phone out and was about to read the email when I stopped myself.


    No. Stop running away. You¡¯re stalling.


    I exhaled. I¡¯ve made my decision.


    I stepped off the raft. Just one small step forward, but my world shook as I did. It felt like I had surrendered something important to me, something precious and irreplaceable. The world seemed just a little bit colder and colorless. I shivered in the rain, feeling miserable.


    I closed my eyes and grieved for a moment. I knew it would pass. I had taken the same step countless times before. To move forward, you had to sacrifice what¡¯s precious to you.


    It was 11:55. I was behind schedule and regretted the impulsive decision to step on the shore. I should¡¯ve used the time loop more strategically.


    I paused.


    Why did I think the time loop was losing effect again? Ah right, because of the email.


    Now that I thought about it, I had assumed a lot about something I didn¡¯t understand. Perhaps the email coming in was just a fluke. Why would the time loop block emails from coming in? It was just a foolish hope of mine. Perhaps the time loop wouldn¡¯t be broken just because I had crossed the river. Maybe it was just my phone that was broken.


    I¡¯m going to be late for the presentation.


    With that thought, I ran for the tower. Whether I was out of the time loop or not will be revealed in several minutes. In the meantime, I would strive to make it in time for the presentation. I had sacrificed too much to do anything else.


    The rain continued pouring, blurring my vision.

 Chapter 9

    My feet pounded on slick gravel; my eyes fixed on the tower shining brightly ahead. The river current had carried me further downstream than I had aimed for, but it wasn''t a big deal. I had crossed the river. This was the last stretch of my journey. Or so I thought.


    A soft beep rang out and I glanced down just in time to see my watch announced 12:00. I froze, heart pounding in my chest. It was the moment of truth. Had I broken free from the time loop?


    In the blink of an eye, the world shifted. A moment of weightlessness that stretched for an eternity, then I was falling forward. I caught myself on the pavement, the sudden brightness piercing my eyes. One moment I was running in the rain and dark, and the next I was falling in bright sunlight. I knew what this meant. It was 11:00 again. The arms holding me up lost strength and I flopped onto the sidewalk.


    My chest felt tight, and I couldn''t breathe. I curled up, letting out heart-wrenching sobs. It was too much. I was mistaken, after all. Crossing the river didn''t break me free from the time loop. It was all for nothing.


    Time might have reversed, but the decision to abandon the boy couldn''t be reversed as easily. Even if no one in the world knew, and it hadn''t happened yet chronologically, I would know. I would live with that decision for the rest of my life.


    I curled up into a ball on the pavement.


    I didn''t know how long I spent crying on the sidewalk. I could check my watch and find out, but I didn''t. A crippling numbness had bloomed in my heart, extinguishing the fires of motivation.


    I''m tired. I don''t know what to do now.


    I rolled over to my back and stared at the clouds above. For once in my life, I didn''t feel any urgency. What was the point? I was stuck here. Nothing I did would matter. In fact, everything I''ve done had only made things worse. I got run over, burned to death, and made a painful decision. Wouldn''t it have been better to just stay still like this? I won¡¯t get hurt or hurt anybody else. I should just stay here.


    Forever?


    A spark of dread and anger rose in me. What have I done to deserve this?


    Memories of my decisions crossed my mind, and the spark fizzled out. I do deserve this. Maybe this is hell and I''m facing my punishment.


    I laid lifelessly on the sidewalk as the minutes slipped by.


    Why is it so damn bright though?


    That reminded me of the weird weather on this street. As I ran towards the river, it abruptly changed from sunny to overcast to light rain. By the time I crossed the river, it was raining heavily. It followed my location instead of the time. What kind of weather acts like that? Along with the time loop, it only made me more certain this place was abnormal.


    A flicker of something akin to curiosity lit up inside me. I clutched onto it desperately. Anything was better than the apathy smothering me.


    I recalled thinking the weather might provide clues to the time loop in one of the earlier runs.


    Why not check it out? Each time loop was the same except for my actions, the weather, the black car, and the school bus. The weather and the black sports car reacted to my actions, as if they were unaffected by the time loop; so maybe there''s a clue to break the time loop there?


    An ember of hope ignited. I guarded it meticulously, warding away doubt and pessimism.


    It''s too soon to give up. Not before I exhausted every clue at least.


    Slowly, tentatively, I stood up. I left my briefcase where it was and staggered up the street. Although I had learned to adjust for the briefcase messing up my balance when I jog, I didn''t feel like carrying it with me anymore. There was no point.


    Soon enough, I saw a bloodstain on the street and abandoned balloons with blood splatters above me. My heart trembled a little at the sight, but I was already prepared for it. I even felt a bit relieved to see no signs of the boy. I didn''t know if I could handle seeing him again after I''ve decided to abandon him last run.


    I sighed, then moved on. As I shambled up the street, the weather gradually turned overcast. When the sky was fully covered by clouds, I paused, then retraced my steps. The clouds gradually dispersed and turned sunny again.


    This confirms my position really dictated the weather. Sunny section until a little further than where the boy was, followed by an overcast section that continued until after the demolition site. The rain began abruptly just before the crossroads at the end of the street and gradually got heavier the further you go.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I strolled up the street, lost in thought. Although I''ve confirmed that the weather depended on my movements, what does that even mean? I was no closer to figuring out the time loop. Discouragement pressed down heavily on me, and for a moment I considered sitting down right there on the sidewalk and never getting back up. Then I remembered the other abnormality.


    I nonchalantly stepped onto the street and looked back with a blank expression. Within seconds, a black sports car came hurtling towards me from a distance. The corners of my lips twitched in satisfaction even as the black car ran over me.


    Pain. A burst of pain that reminded me that I was alive. Then it faded, and the world faded with it.


    A moment of weightlessness that stretched for an eternity, then I was falling forward. I caught myself and stood up. Behind me, the bus doors closed with a hiss.


    Indeed. The black car will come for me anytime I step on the streets. I don''t get it though, what exactly is it? All the cars on this street seemed off now that I think about it.


    I turned and watched as the bus rumbled away into the distance.


    A thought struck me.


    The bus that got me here. Would it also take me out of the time loop if I manage to get back inside?


    A deep regret rose in me. Why couldn''t the time loop start a bit earlier? How do I get back on? By the time I finish falling, the bus door would''ve closed.


    I decided to try it anyway. To do that, I needed a fresh start. I stepped onto the streets and waited for the black car to run me over.


    A niggling sense of unease rose in me. What''s wrong now? Whatever, it can wait until the next run.


    The black car came and ran me over. The world faded and I fell forward onto the sidewalk. I twisted my body desperately and reached out for the bus, but it was in vain. I fell heavily, my breath knocked out of my lungs. I watched helplessly as the bus trundled away.


    Determination burned inside me. Next time.


    I stood up and moved to the middle of the streets, bracing myself for the pain. A burst of pain. I died.


    I twisted around and reached for the bus. I stepped onto the street. A burst of pain. Died.


    Twisted. Reached. Pain... Died...


    Twisted... Pain. Died.


    Pain. Died.


    Died...


    I stepped onto the street, grinning maniacally as I waited expectantly for the black car to kill me.


    Wait. I felt a chill run down my spine. This is madness. What am I doing? Since when did I consider my life so lightly?


    ... How long has it been?


    I shuddered, my heart pounding in my chest. This is dangerous. My life might not be in danger because of the time loop, but my mind...


    Before I could do anything, the black sports car loomed in front of me.


    A burst of pain, then I died, and found myself falling towards the sidewalk once again.


    Instinctively, I took a step forward and pivoted. I slid slightly on the sidewalk to kill the momentum, then pounced for the closing bus doors.


    I didn''t make it. Like always. Usually at this point, I would step onto the street and wait for my death. But I didn''t this time.


    Cold sweat trickled down my neck. I didn''t even spare the rapidly disappearing bus a glance, even though it was allegedly my reason for suicide. I was just looking for a way to die.


    What could''ve happened if I didn''t snap out of it last run?


    A nervous chuckle leaked out. I''m depressed and suicidal. Damn. Who would''ve thought.


    What should I do? This is really dangerous. Why should I do anything though? So what if I''m suicidal?


    No. Don''t give up yet. I can still break out.


    I can...


    I''m tired.


    Should I just rest?


    I need to allow my mind to relax. I need a... vacation?


    Vacation. The word seemed almost foreign to me. When was the last time I had one? I couldn''t remember.


    Fine. I''m taking a vacation. I have all the time in the world, after all.


    I looked around at the bright street and gave a tentative smile. Not because I was genuinely happy, but because I thought it was expected of me. People who got vacations and promotions were always happy, weren''t they? Shouldn''t I be happy too, now?


    Even if I don''t deserve it?


    I quieted the intrusive thought. I was on vacation and depressive thoughts weren''t allowed. What do people do with their vacations anyway?


    I plumbed the depths of my memories for inspiration and came up empty. Times before the time loop felt like a lifetime ago now, but it seemed... it seemed like none of my coworkers ever had time for vacations either?


    I was vaguely aware of what vacations were about, of course. Vacations are about rest and relaxation. That sounds nice. I want to relax. How? Do I just... do nothing?


    A vague memory bubbled up from the recesses of my mind. I had gone on a vacation after all. That one time I desperately begged my boss for a vacation after pulling a series of all-nighters. I was only granted one day and spent it all sleeping. So, do I just...sleep?


    Now that I thought about it, when was the last time I''ve slept? The time loop always restored me to the condition I was in when I was thrown off the bus, so I haven''t felt the urge to sleep before. Deciding to give it a try, I leaned against the closest wall and sat on the sidewalk. I closed my eyes.


    Minutes ticked by.


    It wasn''t working. The sun was too bright, and I was too keyed up to sleep. I peeled my outer suit off and covered my head to block out the sun. I tried again.


    It still wasn''t working. From what I remember, I was usually too tired and worn out after work. I''ve never had trouble falling asleep before, despite being plagued with nightmares daily.


    I fidgeted uncomfortably.


    Sighing explosively, I gave up. Next idea. What do people do on their vacation?


    I cast my mind for something fun to do but came up blank. Am I that boring of a person? What do I usually do in my free time? The depressing answer came to mind instantly¡ªI had no free time.


    My lips twitched. I sighed again and stood up.


    Some people choose to travel on their vacations, right?


    Where could I even go? I''m trapped.


    My mood soured at the reminder. I sighed.


    Then an idea struck me. I''ve always headed for the river before. What would happen if I headed in the opposite direction instead?


    I peered down the street. It was where all the cars came from too.


    In the grips of curiosity, I made my way down the street, hoping this decision won''t get me killed.

 Chapter 10

    I peered down the street, a strange sense of excitement rising in me. The idea of intentionally choosing a suboptimal path to my destination felt foreign. Now that I had nothing but time, exploration for the sake of it felt fresh. Enough that it drummed up a trace of anticipation in my barren heart.


    I took it all in¡ªthe empty street and the lifeless houses lining it. The bright sunlight poured down from above, creating a cheerful atmosphere. It highlighted the colorful paint on the deserted houses, making them look fantastical and mysterious instead of gloomy and eerie.


    I hadn''t had the chance to slow down and pay attention to my surroundings before. Either I was in too much of a rush, or I had a better use for my attention¡ªlike preparing for the presentation. I groaned. No, this was vacation time, and I wouldn''t spoil it with anything remotely connected to work.


    It was a bit unusual that the houses were all empty at this time of day, but it wasn''t the weirdest thing I''ve seen on this street by far. I approached the closest house. It was right next to where I usually fell at the start of the time loops. I''ve seen it countless times because of that, but it was the first time I truly paid attention. The front door was painted white with the house number embossed in the center¡ªa golden number 0.


    It was the first time I''ve seen a house numbered 0. Curious, I glanced to the left at the next house down the street. It was number 1.


    I glanced to the right up the street at the next house. It was also number 1.


    Huh? The postman isn¡¯t paid enough for this. I thought in mild amusement.


    On closer inspections, these houses were eerily similar, with only slight differences to differentiate between each one. On the doorsteps of house number 0 was a small pot filled with small pebbles and grit on top.


    There were no plants growing in it. To my admittedly limited gardening knowledge, you put soil in pots instead of rocks...right? Maybe the soil was under it? Struck by a sudden bout of fancy, I decided to find out. I crouched down and shifted the top layer of pebbles away.


    A hot lance of pain pricked the tips of my fingers. I recoiled away in surprise. "Argh!". The small rocks were unexpectedly razor sharp. What kind of rocks are these?


    I watched the blood well up, then shrugged and let it bleed. It was a bit amusing that I felt more pain and surprise from this small cut than I did getting run over by the black car during my suicide spree.


    I shook my head, mood souring. Losing interest in the weird pot, I continued my way down the street. Before I could take more than a few steps, I stumbled and tripped.


    With smooth movements borne of practice, I took another step to stabilize myself and turned around. I had to stop myself from leaping forward for the non-existent bus doors.


    I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling my heart beat wildly. Glancing down at the object that had tripped me, I found a briefcase that looked awfully familiar. I tilted my head, trying to recall where I had seen it before.


    With a jolt, I realized that it was mine.


    I smiled ruefully, picking up the briefcase. It had been so long since I felt the familiar weight.


    Thinking back, I had abandoned the briefcase just before I started my suicide spree, considering it a hindrance.


    I set the briefcase on the doorsteps of house number 0. I no longer needed it since I had no future.


    My smile turned bitter and wistful. I strode away.


    I strolled down the street absentmindedly, lost in thought. The echo of my footsteps was the only thing accompanying me on this deserted street. I had long since gotten used to the eerie silence and solitude. Occasionally, a car would pass by on the street to my left. Since I was going in the opposite direction, I could see them coming from far ahead. I remembered desperately trying to hitchhike in my early runs. Foolishness.


    I heaved a sigh. This is boring.


    Sure, walking aimlessly was surprisingly cathartic, but there was only so much I could take. It doesn''t help that houses were all similar, presenting an unchanging scenery. If not for the slight changes in steepness and house numbers, I would''ve thought I was walking in place. It wouldn''t be the weirdest thing about this street.


    At some point the street had transitioned from downhill to uphill, so I was walking up the street instead of down. I glanced at my watch¡ªit was 11:30.


    Should I repeat this again next run? I do feel more relaxed, but the boredom is killing me. I need more stimulation damn it.


    As if to mock my thoughts, A car passed by from behind me.


    I didn''t notice anything wrong at first, watching it disappear into the distance in front of me.


    Then my brain caught up and I froze. The car came from... behind me? This is a one-way street though? Maybe it was just that one car going in the wrong direction?


    My suicide spree had really messed my recollection of events, but I was pretty sure that I would''ve remembered something as memorable as a car going in the wrong direction. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Feeling a dreadful premonition, I jogged up the street.


    Soon enough I confirmed what I dreaded finding. Across the street ahead of me were colorful balloons stuck on a horizontal awning.


    My heart skipped a beat, and I staggered backwards, mouth agape.


    No, maybe it''s a different set of balloons. It''s across the streets.


    I shaded my eyes and peered closer at the street next to the balloons. Was that a bloodstain?


    I had to know. Looking both ways several times despite knowing it wouldn''t help, I confirmed that the street was clear and sprinted my way across.


    The roar of an engine broke the silence to my left. In my peripheral vision I saw a black blur hurtling towards me.


    My heart pounded frantically in my chest. It''s here!


    For a moment I was tempted to let it kill me, but I quickly squashed the suicidal thought. At the last second, I lunged forward, breaking my fall with a roll. The black sports car sped past behind me, spraying dust and sand on my back.


    I smiled with satisfaction, brushing down my suit and finger-combing my hair. Then I remembered why I braved the danger of death to cross the street. I approached the balloons, a sinking feeling in my chest.


    My heart sank all the way to the abyss when I saw the blood splatters on the balloons. I would recognize them anywhere.


    Did I get turned around? No, that''s impossible. I¡¯ve only crossed the street once.


    My eye darkened as I considered the implications.


    If I go in the opposite direction, would I still end up going the same direction but from across the street instead?


    I chuckled in dark amusement. A hamster on a wheel indeed.


    I sat on the nearest doorstep and stared at the bloody balloons.


    This vacation sucks.


    A moment of weightlessness, then I was falling forward again. I effortlessly took a step and pivoted. I didn''t bother with the bus. Countless attempts had shown that it was a hopeless endeavor.


    I picked up my briefcase and set it down on the doorsteps of house number 0. After a moment of consideration, I sat down next to it. I stared blankly at empty space.


    What''s next? I must admit the vacation idea sort of worked. I''m calmer now. Should I do another vacation run? But I''m sick of it already.


    I don''t think I''m ready to tackle the time loop again though.


    What to do then?


    My eyes fell on the briefcase next to me. I pulled it close and unlatched the clasps. Inside was a stack of neatly organized documents. They were precious data and reports I''ve painstakingly gathered for my presentation.


    It had seemed so important back then. A wistful smile creased my lips.


    Why not? I thought. I''ve worked so hard for it after all.


    I skimmed through the documents quickly, refreshing my memory.


    I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, imagining the meeting room in Stratos Tower. The posh one that''s only used for important occasions. The one I would''ve presented in.


    Good afternoon directors of Stratos Inc. It is with great pleasure that... ugh skip this bit. I hate intros. Let''s see...


    Today, we will be discussing how Stratos could capture the minds and hearts of the next generation¡ªthe adolescents. As can be seen from diagram 1.a provided, adolescents are an important...


    The tear-filled eyes of the boy with the balloons suddenly came to mind.


    An important... important... ugh. What''s wrong with me?


    I opened my eyes and sighed. It was 11:14. Even if I started running now, I wouldn''t make it in time to save the boy. It wasn''t permanent anyway. Besides... what right do I have to pretend to save him now? I could never take back my decision to abandon him back then.


    I closed my eyes again, trying to salvage what little happiness I could after the unpleasant reminder.


    Careful product positioning is an integral part of our strategy. For example, placing our products at eye level with adolescents, and near the snacks and candies section would prove... I wonder if the boy likes candies? Ah fuck! Seriously?! If you''re going to feel so guilty you shouldn''t have decided to sacrifice him for your own future!


    I gritted my teeth. What a joke.


    Then slumped down in defeat.


    I can''t even daydream properly now. Fine.


    I stood up, patting down the dirt from my pants.


    Fine. So what if it''s shameless. So what if it''s only because I don''t want to feel guilty. I''m going to save the boy.


    I glanced down at the time then froze. Deflating like a punctured balloon, I sat back down on the sidewalk. The boy was already dead by now. I''ll save him next run.


    I eyed the street for a moment, tempted to summon the black car and restart. But no, I had just snapped myself out of it. I sighed, then since there was nothing else to do, went back to daydreaming.


    Where was I? I forgot. Whatever. Directors, as I''m sure we''re all aware, the use and purchase of our product have been in a declining in the past decades. This is why seizing the loyalty of adolescent customers is imperative for our future. If we could seize the moment and familiarize customers with our product in their teenage years, retaining their loyalty when they''ve reached adulthood and even crossing generation are within the realm of possibilities. Hence...


    ...


    Perhaps because I had decided to save the boy next run, I didn''t get distracted again. The presentation simulation ran so smoothly, it was a shame I couldn''t do it for real. A smile formed on my lips. For a moment it made me feel like I had a piece of my old life back.


    In the middle of it, I felt myself falling forward. I recovered instinctively and opened my eyes. It was 11:00 again.


    I felt a hint of annoyance at the interruption, still immersed. I continued the simulation even as my body started jogging up the street, the familiar motions done without much thought.


    ... sponsoring activities that adolescence will enjoy, like sports, music festivals, or games, will...


    I snapped out of my trancelike state, finding myself jumping for balloons next to the boy.


    I blinked in confusion, looking at the dozen already in my hand. I glanced at the boy next to me.


    He was watching me curiously with a hint of fear in his eyes.


    I smiled sheepishly, then offered the balloons in my hand.


    The boy backed away slowly, then turned and ran.


    I scratched my head, watching him run.


    Ah crap. I scared him, didn''t I?


    I looked down at the balloons in my hand again, then released them.


    Mission accomplished? At least he didn''t cry this time. I didn¡¯t even remember looking at him though. I felt kinda bad for getting so immersed.


    In a better mood than I''ve been in a long, long time, I jogged up the street after the boy.


    Partly because I wanted to make sure that I didn''t scare him too badly, and partly because I just wanted to keep moving.


    Simulating the presentation was more useful than I thought. I thought I¡¯d have a hard time facing the boy again, but I didn¡¯t even notice him there.


    I reached the demolition site but saw no signs of the boy. I slowed and hunched over, panting.


    A prickle of unease ran through me. Something was different. I looked around. Everything was the same. The crowd was still arguing with the foreman. The building was still standing. The weather was still...


    Sunny? It should''ve been overcast.


    I gaped at the clear blue sky above me.


    What did I do? The only thing I¡¯ve done this run was revise the presentation and save the boy.


    I felt like I''ve grasped an important hint. Hope flared up in my chest.

 Chapter 11

    I sat on a nearby doorstep, thinking furiously.


    The weather had always behaved abnormally in this street. So much so that I thought it must have a connection with the time loop itself. Despite changing abruptly on different sections of the street, it had always been consistent... hadn''t it?


    What did I do differently? I''ve saved the boy this time. But the last¡ªand only¡ªtime I did that, the weather still became overcast near the demolition site, right?


    I wasn''t sure. The first time I saved the boy was within the first three runs. I must''ve had dozens of runs by now. Most of them involved running headlong into the black car to my death, but still.


    Who pays attention to the weather, anyway? Well... I do now, but I didn''t back then.


    I stood up and paced.


    This is important. It might be the way out.


    Hope flared bright in my chest.


    So, the weather might change after I saved the boy. I''ll need to confirm it next run, but I''m sure it''s true.


    The boy seemed connected to the time loop too. The school bus always came to run him over when he fell. Just like the black car always came for me when I stepped onto the street.


    Do I need to prevent deaths to break free from the time loop?


    I searched my memory to recall if I¡¯ve seen more deaths.


    Didn''t I hear a scream when the building was knocked down on the demolition site? I''m still not sure if I imagined it. I guess we''ll see soon enough.


    I glanced at my watch¡ªit was 11:25. If I remembered correctly, the building would be demolished at around 11:30.


    I ran up the street, pushing myself to make it in time.


    What else? The fire on the left branch might''ve killed several. The stampede on the right branch might''ve produced casualties, too. I''ll just treat this run as information gathering.


    Soon, I saw a crowd gathering around a cordoned building ahead of me. Panting slightly, I pushed my way to the front of the crowd. I ducked under the tape and approached the foreman.


    I smiled. "Good afternoon sir, is this building getting demolished soon?"


    The foreman squinted at me. "You shouldn''t be here. Go back over the tape."


    He observed me more closely, then glanced back at the crowd behind us. "Hold on, I don''t recognize you. Yes, the building''s getting demolished. What''s it to you?"


    "Nothing, nothing, just a concerned passerby," I said.


    "Go on and pass by then. I''m busy," said the foreman. He nodded his head to the street to our right. They had blocked off one street lane, and four construction vehicles were idling there. "You can pass through there. Now buzz off, this is restricted area."


    "Of course, of course. I''ll be on my way soon. I''m sure you''re very busy doing things like checking the building to make sure there''s no one left inside, right?" I said.


    The foreman huffed. "Aye. I know what I''m doing, and it''s none of your business. Just move along, there''s nothing to see here."


    I smiled inwardly. I knew his type. Prickly and overworked, forced to face complaints for the decisions of his higher-ups. Every company has a dozen such people. A softer touch was needed to get them to do anything. My blatant hint was perfect. Any less and it¡¯ll be too subtle, but push further and he¡¯d get defensive. If the scream I heard was real, I knew for a fact that he hadn¡¯t checked the building. All I had to do now was walk away, and he¡¯d do so.


    I was about to leave when a man stepped out of the crowd and over the tape. "Yea move along mister! It''s none of your business. And you! You fat ass! Do you think we''ll stand for this? Compensation for our ruined home!"


    I stared at the shouting man in confusion. He was middle-aged, with distinctive auburn sideburns. A sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu struck me.


    Didn''t this happen before? I recognize this man.


    The foreman turned red in the face, shouting back at sideburns, thoughts of checking the building abandoned.


    I watched their arguments mutely, lost in thought. Soon, the rest of the crowd joined in the argument. Before I knew it, it was a full-blown shouting match.


    It all seemed deliberate. Discretely, I backed away and approached the building. I had hoped that they would be too busy arguing to notice my actions, but it seemed like things wouldn''t be so easy.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Hey! Where are you going?" the man with the sideburns called out to me.


    I was certain now. He was trying to keep the building from getting checked.


    Why? Is he aware there''s still someone inside? Or is he trying to hide something in the building? There¡¯re too many reasons.


    "I asked you a question, mister!" Sideburn asked impatiently.


    Everyone was looking at me now.


    I smiled. "Carry on, don''t mind me. I''m going to take a quick look inside. I thought I saw someone near one window earlier. I''ll be really quick."


    The foreman was about to say something but was cut off by a woman from the crowd. "You shouldn''t! It''s dangerous. This bastard will demolish the building even with you in it."


    A murmur of agreement ran through the crowd.


    The foreman whirled around at her, veins popping in his head. "Nonsense! We take security very seriously. No one will get injured if you don''t step over the tape! Now leave mister!"


    That last shout was directed at me, and I had no choice but to step away.


    Sideburns approached and looked me in the eyes. "Thank you for your concern, sir, but it''s fine. You must''ve been mistaken. We''re a tightknit community, and we can all confirm that there''s no one missing. Right, everyone?"


    The crowd nodded.


    "You buzz off too! The demolition is about to start," the foreman said.


    Before they could start arguing again, I asked them in a raised voice, "Are you all sure there''s no one missing? No one at all?"


    The crowd looked at each other and seemed to confirm each other''s presence. I took this chance to take a quick headcount. There were 14 people in the crowd, 15 with the foreman.


    Sideburns stepped close to me and whispered, "Look here mister, what''s your problem? It''s none of your business. Just move along."


    I whispered back, "You know there''s someone still inside, don''t you?"


    His eyes widened, then turned steely. He turned towards the crowd. "We all appreciate your concern mister, but frankly we would never leave one of our own behind. More importantly, we would never let this greedy bastard tear down our home without our permission!"


    His words seemed directed at me, but I knew he was addressing the crowd and foreman instead. I tuned him out as he went on and on after that, whipping both parties into a frenzy.


    This is ridiculous. I mishandled this. I also didn''t have all the information before. Sideburns is suspicious, but the other residents trust him. He''s very skilled in swaying them too.


    As I was lost in thoughts, the foreman lost his patience and signaled to the construction vehicles to go through with the demolition.


    I looked down at the time. It was 11:35. I knew I had only delayed the demolition slightly. I looked over at the wrecking ball hanging down from the crane. I hadn''t seen one of those before. Who still uses them these days?


    It swung with deceptive slowness and knocked down a wall of the three-story apartment. The building shuddered, sand and dust trickling down. Ponderously, like a glacier breaking off, the wall slid down to the street with a thunderous roar. Dust and debris flew everywhere, and the crowd backed away.


    After a few more swings, the apartment collapsed in on itself. A scream rang out from within as the building crumbled.


    I noted everyone''s reactions to the scream. The foreman was surprised and panicked. Most of the crowd were genuinely surprised too, except for one person. Sideburns seemed surprised, but the corners of his lips were twisted into a satisfied smile.


    Then surprise turned into anger and the shouting shouted.


    I stepped away and watched them detachedly, barely listening.


    Weren''t they a close-knit community? Why hadn''t anyone bothered to check who just died? All I''m hearing are demands for compensation and finger pointing.


    Now I recall why I was so disgusted with this lot in my earlier runs. I walked away to the cordoned lane in the street, leaving them to their arguments. At least I''ve confirmed the scream was real. One more death to prevent here.


    As I passed the section where it started raining in the earlier runs, clouds rapidly covered the sun.


    Indeed. So preventing deaths will push the sunny section of the street further?


    Although I didn''t know what changing the weather by preventing deaths had to do with breaking free from the time loop, anything that changed the status quo was a plus in my books. At the very least, I''ll learn more about the time loop. Maybe, if I gather enough information, the path to freedom would open.


    I smiled. Buoyed by optimism, I quickly reached the crossroads at the end of the street. It was 11:40 and I could already see a plume of black smoke rising on the left path.


    I was too late to stop the fire then.


    I approached anyway since I needed more information, but my body froze after only a few steps. The dress shoes I wore felt like they¡¯d suddenly been coated with lead. I trembled in place, a phantom burning sensation playing over me.


    It seemed like I was still traumatized from burning to death.


    Damn. This won''t do. No! I need to move. I need to know where the fire originated from at the very least.


    But my body was on strike. Helplessly, I turned around and headed to the right path instead.


    Back at the crossroads at the end of the street, I decided to climb the footbridge to gain a better view of the situation. I recalled the unpleasant experience of making my way through the crowd on the very first run.


    I never tried it again after, so I didn''t know why the crowd suddenly stampeded. I climbed the stairs to the footbridge, sitting down at the top to catch my breath.


    It had been a while since I had to run around like this. I forgot how out of shape my body was.


    At 11:45, I made my way to the intersection of the right and left footbridge. I looked down at the sea of humans on the right path, leaning on the railings. It was an unusual decision to construct a footbridge just to cross a two lanes street. But I could understand why. The vehicles using this street were all maniacs. It was as if they were unfamiliar with the concept of breaks. I was surprised that the crowd of people in the right path had dared to block the street. Weren''t they afraid of getting run over? Then again, with this many people, no cars could get through, even if they¡¯re willing to run people over.


    Just then, a car sped by below me on the street, drifting slightly and heading down the left path. I shook my head and focused. I peered down the right path, trying not to miss anything.


    At 11:50, I glimpsed a hint of movement on the second-floor balcony of the mansion everyone was crowding around. Curious, I looked over and saw an old man peering down at the crowd below him. I couldn''t see his expression from here, but I could tell he was disgusted just by his body language alone.


    Then he jumped off.


    What?


    I couldn''t process what I just saw for a moment. I was not alone. The people right under the balcony froze in shock. The shock reverberated outwards; from my vantage point it was as if the sea of human froze in a ripple from where the old man had fallen.


    Then the screaming started. The frozen crowd roiled chaotically and stampeded.


    Ah. That''s how it happened.

 Chapter 12

    I watched the sea of humans roil beneath me, screams of panic rising to the winter air.


    What is it with people and jumping to their deaths? Both old and young are insane.


    I sighed. I could already tell this would be troublesome.


    The boy, the screamer, the fire, and the old man just now. That''s already four problematic areas, one right after the other.


    Shouts of pain and outrage mixed with the screams of panic below. People were getting trampled under the stampede.


    Let''s review. If left alone, the boy will fall and die at 11:16, the building will get demolished at around 11:30, the fire starts around 11:40, and the old man jumped to his death at 11:50.


    My head pounded with the beginning of a headache.


    What a mess. How am I supposed to prevent all these deaths? Maybe if I rush...?


    I watched the stampede beneath me absentmindedly, already planning out the next run. A soft beep interrupted my thoughts, and I fell forward to the sidewalk. I took a step and regained balance, then bent down to pick up my briefcase.


    Without looking back at the bus behind me, I jogged up the street, intent on replicating the beginning of the previous run.


    I felt something missing a few minutes in. I was immersed with daydrea- revising the presentation last run. I still didn''t know why or how that scared the boy away, but I had to replicate it. I gathered myself, then started.


    Good afternoon directors of Stratos...


    ...


    We previously had outstanding success with the menthol flavor. Our R&D team have been working tirelessly to develop new flavors, and it''s imperative that we highlight this in our marketing campaign and solidify our-


    I froze in my tracks, both physically and mentally. Ahead of me, the boy was jumping at the balloons. A wave of guilt crashed into me, knocking me off balance. I wrestled with my own feelings for a while, then forced myself forward.


    I set my briefcase down next to the boy, then jumped for the balloons.


    He looked back at me curiously.


    I offered the balloon I snagged.


    He disregarded it.


    I jumped for the next one, then paused.


    It''s different from the last run. I''m doing it wrong. At this rate, I¡¯ll be stuck here getting the balloons one by one. I need to scare him away. How? What did I even do to scare him last time?


    I looked into the boy''s eyes, and with a voice as stern as I could make it, said, "Leave. Now."


    The boy tilted his head, then ignored me.


    I almost cursed right there and then, but held it in. I also couldn''t bring myself to shout at the boy.


    What do I do then?


    My eyes fell on the balloon in my arm. I pulled down the string and held the balloon, feeling it slightly give under my grip.


    Then I squeezed as hard as I could.


    Pop!


    The boy turned at the sound.


    "Go. There''s nothing for you here," I said.


    The boy ignored me.


    Frustration welled up in my chest. This couldn''t go on. This will take too long. I popped the other balloon I had retrieved, but the boy didn¡¯t even glance at me this time.


    I jumped for the next one.


    The boy jumped along instead of watching me now. Every time I snagged a balloon, I popped it right in front of him.


    The boy didn''t show any signs of complaint, but he leaped for the balloons more frantically.


    I panted heavily, my suit soaked with sweat. Beside me, the boy stared down at the scattered pieces of popped balloons on the sidewalk. He looked up at me, tears running down his face. It drove a spike into my chest to see it, but I committed the expression to memory, nonetheless.


    I did this. I deserve your blame. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The boy ran up the street.


    I glanced down at my watch¡ªit was 11:27. Slightly faster than usual because I didn''t have to wait for the boy to reject the balloons before popping them, but it was still too late to make it in time to the demolition site. Especially since I was too tired to run.


    This damned weak body of mine.


    It wasn''t fair. I''ve run and exercised a lot over dozens of time loop cycles. But my body was still as weak and frail as it was on the very first run. I sighed, then walked up the street.


    The argument was in full swing by the time I arrived at the demolition site. Fifteen residents were shouting over each other at the foreman, their complaints forming an incoherent racket. The foreman had been joined by four burly workers¡ªoperators of the vehicles, I presume. They were silent, soaking in all the complaints with thunderous expressions. The foreman didn''t even try to pretend he was listening, ears covered with construction muffs while smoking a cigarette to the side.


    I risked a quick, thrilling jaunt on the street to bypass the crowd, then joined the foreman on the blocked-off street lane.


    He glanced at me with indifference, but I could see the panic building in his eyes.


    The beginnings of a plan formed in my head. I shot a wry smile at the foreman, then set down my briefcase next to him. Before he could say anything, I produced a silver case from my suit¡¯s left pocket, then flicked it open.


    He eyed it with interest, taking off his construction earmuffs.


    I studied the rolled-up cigarettes inside the case, then took out two sticks. "What a mess, am I right?"


    The foreman opened his mouth, about to argue, but then changed his mind and looked away with a huff.


    I offered him one of the cigarettes.


    His eyes lit up and his hand rose to take it, but he hesitated.


    "Take it," I said with a smile. "You deserve a smoke break."


    The foreman flicked his eyes down in what must¡¯ve the world¡¯s most subtle nod and took the offered cigarette. "Thanks," he said in a gruff voice. He spat the one he was smoking on the sidewalk and exchanged it with the one I gave him. My eye twitched at the sight of the still burning cigarette. I smoothly stepped on it.


    "It wasn''t your fault, you know," I said offhandedly, looking at the ruins of the apartment in front of us.


    I could see the foreman flinching out of the corner of my eyes.


    It was most definitely his fault. Who doesn''t even check the building before knocking it down?


    I picked out the man with auburn sideburns at the back of the crowd. He was on a phone call. My eyes narrowed with annoyance. The sight rubbed me the wrong way for some reason.


    "What do you mean?" asked the foreman.


    Huh? Oh. I struggled to keep a straight face, trying not to show I forgot we were having a conversation. Where was I again? Right.


    "I meant exactly that. It wasn''t your fault. See him?" I nodded towards Sideburns.


    The foreman followed my gaze and gave a grunt of assent.


    "He knew there was someone still inside." I smiled meaningfully.


    Several expressions crossed the foreman''s face in quick succession. He must''ve already had an inkling, or just wanted to shift the blame, because he didn''t require much convincing before he started cursing Sideburns in a rant.


    "It won''t matter though," I said, cutting him off. "You''ll still get the blame for this," I continued the sentence internally, because you didn''t check the building, you idiot.


    The foreman sucked on the cigarette I handed him, then sighed out the smoke and his frustrations with it. Only a lifetime of experience prevented me from stepping away. As a non-smoker, I really hate it when smokers do this near me.


    It''s working. I knew no smoker could resist the premium cigarettes I have on me.


    "What should I do?" the foreman asked me in a flat tone. But I detected a hint of desperation underneath.


    I smiled inwardly. "That''s for you to figure out."


    Before he could say anything, I continued, "If I were you though, I''d stop that man from finishing his phone call. Maybe call your boss and get this handled while you''re at it?"


    The foreman seemed to realize something as he watched Sideburns with his phone, then gave me a small nod of appreciation and rushed off. After everyone focused on the foreman and the argument resumed, I returned the unlit cigarette to its case.


    I crept towards the ruins of the apartment, sweeping my gaze over it. I wanted to take a look at the screamer or at least get his room number, but I haven¡¯t thought this through. It was impossible to get any meaningful information from this pile of rubble.


    I neatly gave up and switched objectives, approaching the crowd instead. At least I''ve confirmed that the foreman was a smoker and could be coaxed with a gift. I had an inkling when I saw him stress smoking earlier. I didn''t know what I would do with this information, but I was sure it would be useful somerun.


    I glanced down at the time¡ªit was 11:40. The fire should''ve started by now. I knew I couldn''t have prevented it this run anyway since I spent too long with the boy, but the failure still galled me.


    "...your fault! How could you..." a woman screamed.


    "Compensate..." a man this time.


    "...murder" another man.


    "Shut up!" that was the foreman.


    I sat down on the sidewalk and leaned on a traffic cone, watching them argue. I might learn something new. Even if I didn''t, I needed some time to plan the next run, anyway.


    I closed my eyes, the symphony of greed and guilt filling my ears.


    ***


    A moment of weightlessness that stretched for an eternity, then I was falling forward to the sidewalk again. I took a step to regain balance, then bent down to pick up my briefcase. I jogged up the street, thoughts rattling in my head.


    This is difficult. Too difficult.


    I couldn''t figure out how to prevent the deaths in time. They all occur too close to each other. I mulled my options over, rolling them from one side to another like a cat playing with a ball of yarn. Like said cat, all I end up with was a tangle of thoughts.


    I found myself skidding to a stop right next to the boy before I could form an actionable plan.


    I sighed. How do I do this?


    Truthfully, I already knew what I should do. To untangle a ball of yarn, you need to first find one end. Similarly, to gain enough time to prevent the deaths, I need to first quickly resolve the boy. Spending half an hour on him alone was just suboptimal.


    I kneeled in front of the boy, looking him straight in the eyes. A deep breath to brace myself. Last run I tried to be stern and order the boy away from the balloons. It didn''t work. This run, I decided to take a softer approach and persuade him.


    Long story short, it still didn''t work. I should''ve known it wouldn''t. Didn''t I try to explain the dire dangers of jumping to the boy in my earlier runs? Didn''t the boy jump to his death, anyway?


    On the next run, I tried to be stern again. Didn''t work.


    Next run? Even sterner. I was practically scolding him, overcoming my reluctance to raise my voice. Still didn''t work.


    Next run I changed tack and tried earnestly pleading with him to listen to me.


    I tried to find the set of words and attitude that would move him. But it was impossible because there were none.


    I knew then that words were useless with the boy.


    Boiling with frustration, I skidded to a stop next to the boy. I didn¡¯t set my briefcase down.


    This run¡­ this run, I will resolve the boy. One way or another.

 Chapter 13

    I gazed down at the boy expressionlessly. The boy stared back blankly.


    Breaking the impromptu staring contest, I grabbed him with my left arm and hoisted him over my shoulder, then strode off up the street.


    Fine. Brute force it is.


    The boy froze in my arm. As we got further away from the balloons, he started struggling. I clutched him firmly like a reluctant sandbag, having already expected his resistance.


    It''s for his own good. I don''t have time to do this nicely. I''ll take him up the street, then have someone from the demolition site watch him.


    Even now, the boy was silent, neither screaming nor wailing. Instead, he made his objections known through kicking and punching everything around him. Unfortunately for me, the only thing around was my face. Unfortunately for him, this amount of pain wasn''t enough to faze me.


    A car sped past us, and I caught our reflection on its tinted windows. It was only a brief glance, but the image was seared into my eyes.


    A heartless man with cold eyes carried a boy like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. The boy was struggling with all his might for freedom, hands outstretched to the balloons behind them.


    I froze in place and bit my lips. Again. You''re hurting them for your own ends again.


    I set the boy down.


    He turned and ran down the street without a backward glance.


    A soft scoff escaped my lips. The boy really was obsessed with those balloons... and I really am a bastard.


    Enough. I''ll figure this out later. Let the boy chase his balloons. I need to chase after my own impossible task.


    I heard the now-familiar racket of the arguing crowd before I saw them. Like last run, I bypassed them via the street.


    I wonder what would happen if I baited the black car to run Sideburns over?


    I stepped between the arguing residents and the foreman. Raising both my left hand and voice, I said, "Excuse me!"


    They quieted down in surprise.


    "I can''t help but overhear your argument. Although it''s none of my business, perhaps an impartial third party is what you need."


    Sideburns stepped forward, but I cut him off.


    I swept my left hand and gestured towards the foreman. "This man! Doesn''t have the power to heed your complaints, even if he wanted to."


    I turned to face the foreman, gesturing towards the crowd. "These fine people are just worried. Who wouldn''t be sad to see their home get destroyed?"


    Sideburns turned towards the crowd and raised his voice, "Yes! That''s why-"


    "Please!" I interrupted him. "Let''s refrain from shouting from now on. Rather than talking over each other, might I suggest you all meet and come up with a list of demands and concerns? In... let''s say 5 minutes?"


    Without waiting for a reply, I gently tugged the foreman away from the crowd. When I felt him resist, I whispered, "let''s take a quick smoke break, shall we?"


    The resistance faded like dew under the morning sun. I glanced at the overcast sky above us, then at my watch¡ªit was 11:20. I sighed, mood souring.


    I released the foreman, judging we were far enough away to not be overheard.


    He eyed me with a mix of wariness and curiosity.


    I took out the silver cigarette case, then handed him one. From the same pocket, I produced a lighter and lit him up. "Listen, Mr...?"


    "Tully. My name¡¯s Tully. Thanks for the cig," the foreman said.


    I smiled. "You¡¯re welcome, Tully. Let me be honest with you. I couldn''t care less about your arguments with the crowd."


    The foreman looked at me in surprise.


    My smile turned self-depreciating. "I''m usually not this much of a busybody, trust me. But I saw someone inside that building just now. Is it one of yours?" That was a lie, of course. I''ve never seen the Screamer. I didn''t even know which room he was in.


    The foreman recoiled.


    "Ah... I see," I said. "How about this then? Just this once, I''ll go check it out for you. It would be bad if an accident happened, don''t you think?"


    The foreman squinted at me in suspicion.


    I was about to reassure him when Sideburns intruded on our conversation. "What''s this then?"


    I turned to him in surprise. That was a mistake on my part. I would''ve thought he''d take this chance to whip the crowd into a frenzy.


    "Is that what this is about? Are you trying to steal from us? Huh? Thief!" Sideburns glanced behind him and raised his voice to attract the crowd¡¯s attention.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    I took a deep, calming breath. Instead of snuffing out the flames of anger in my chest, the deep breath stoked it instead. I couldn''t be bothered anymore. I glared at Sideburns.


    His eyes glinted triumphantly. "I should''ve known you were suspicious. You''re just a thief! Somebody call the police!"


    He jutted his chin out, his expression saying, ''What? What can you do to me?''


    The nerve. Did he think I was so easily bluffed?


    "Fine. Call the police. The ambulance too while you''re at it," I bit the words out.


    Sideburns gaped, not expecting my agreement. He would be the one in trouble if the police came.


    But I was all out of patience.


    I swung my briefcase at his chin. Still reeling from my reply, he couldn''t react in time. He spun around from the force of the blow, then crumpled on the sidewalk. Everything became quiet.


    I stared at Sideburns, stunned. I didn''t even hit him that hard.


    The foreman stepped away from me.


    The movement drew my eyes.


    Blood drained from the foreman''s face. He took a couple more steps back and raised his hands.


    I scoffed and strode into the apartment building. I should''ve done that ages ago.


    The apartment was dark and deserted. But I knew what I heard, there was someone still inside. I stalked all over the first floor, opening any door that could be opened. There was no one there.


    I ran up the stairs to the second floor, checking all five rooms in quick succession. Nothing.


    Another five rooms on the third floor. Four of the rooms were at the side, and the one at the end of the corridor seemed like a storage room. I checked the four rooms quickly. Still nothing.


    I stood in front of the last room at the end of the corridor¡ªroom number 15.


    It was locked. Bingo.


    I knocked on the thick door. "Hello! Open up! It''s important!"


    Silence greeted me.


    I banged on the door for another minute, my fist aching.


    Is there no one there after all? No, this must be it.


    I pounded harder on the door. "Open up! The building''s about to be demolished.¡±


    I waited for a moment longer, then kicked the door.


    Pain burst up my ankle and I bounced backwards from the rebound. I hit the carpeted floor with a woof! Air escaping from my lungs.


    Fuck! That hurts. Movies can''t be trusted.


    I stood up, then tried again. I bounced off the door, but was ready for it and didn''t fall again.


    Another kick. The door stood firm.


    I stopped, ankles throbbing. I took a few steps back.


    Hmmm? Oh!


    I took another few steps back, then charged forward, kicking the door. With a crack! the door splintered near the knob and burst open.


    I smiled, adrenaline rushing through my veins. That was more fun than expected.


    I stumbled into the room, wincing as I put weight on my right foot.


    Damn! This run is toast. I thought back to the boy I let go. Even more toast. Ugh.


    Mood dampening, I strode into the middle of the apartment. It had the same layout as the others. A kitchen to the left, bedroom to the right, and common room in front. I was about to check the bedroom when the door to the common room cracked open. A pair of eyes peered timidly from within.


    I smiled. "Hello sir!" my smile turned sinister. "I hope you don''t mind if I let myself in.¡±


    The door to the common room swung all the way open, revealing a thin, scruffy, middle-aged man wearing glasses. He smiled nervously, his pale blue eyes darting around to check if there was anyone else around.


    He cleared his throat, then in a raspy voice asked, "Can I help you?"


    "No. I am here to help you," I said.


    "Excuse me?"


    "Yes. Are you aware this building is getting demolished in..." I checked my watch (it was 11:27), "3 minutes? No? I assumed not."


    "Demolished?"


    "Yes. Demolished. Why don''t you come with me downstairs. Your neighbors will explain everything to you."


    "No! I don''t believe you! I won''t go out!" the man shouted, backing away.


    Before he could slam the door behind him, I surged forward and stuck a foot in. Big mistake. It was my right foot.


    I gritted my teeth, suppressing both pain and curses. I gave the man a grin¡ªor I thought I did.


    The man paled and skittered away from me.


    I pushed my way into the common room. Except it wasn''t a common room. It was a workroom of some sort. I didn¡¯t give it more than a passing glance.


    I spotted the man at the far end of the room, backing up almost all the way up a table there.


    I raised my hand in a calming gesture. "Don''t worry sir, I''m not here to hurt you. Please just come with me outside. Everything will be alright."


    "No! Go away. I don''t want to go! Please! Just go away!"


    I sighed. I was not in the mood for this.


    Hearing me sigh, the man took something from the table behind him. It was an antique watch. He offered it to me. "Here! I''ll give this to you. It''s very valuable. But please, just go before it''s too late!"


    I gazed at him. He was shaking, desperation etched in his features.


    "I understand." I turned and left.


    The foreman and his four burly workers were waiting for me outside the apartment building, arms crossed.


    "Check room 15. There''s a resident there," I told them curtly as I strode past.


    One of them reached a hand to stop me but balked when I shot him a glare.


    I limped my way down the street, mood as foul as the overcast sky above me.


    By the time I reached the crossroads at the end of the street, I knew I was too late to prevent the fire.


    I limped my way down the left path, anyway, forcing myself to power-walk despite the lance of pain shooting up my right ankle after every footfall. I used the pain to focus my will, pushing onwards despite my body trembling in fear of fire.


    Soon I reached the burning section of the street. The fire had spread to the neighboring houses, even to the barren trees lining the sidewalk. I noted down the house in the center¡ªnumber 50.


    Gritting my teeth, I charged towards the door.


    Please don''t be locked.


    The door was locked.


    Godfuckingdamnit! Should I do this another time?


    I cast my eyes around. I wasn''t sure I could do this again next time. I also needed to know what caused the fire. A reflection on the tinted window caught my attention. A bedraggled stranger glared back with bloodshot eyes, baring his teeth in a manic grin. His suit was torn and wrinkled, and he clutched a battered briefcase with a death grip.


    I startled away from the stranger, heart pounding in my chest. He mirrored my actions. He¡­I blinked stupidly at the tinted window, then my expression contorted into a grimace.


    I threw myself at the reflection, breaking through the glass. Sharp edges tore at me, but I pushed through the pain.


    I rolled forward expertly, then took in my surroundings. Moldy and discolored wallpaper on the walls; plastic packages scattered all over the floor; smoke coming out from a door at the far end of the room.


    I limped my way out of the room, into a corridor. I followed the smoke. It was the kitchen. An old man sat calmly at the dining table, a badly burned meal in front of him. Behind him, the kitchen counter was on fire.


    So it was the stove. Noted.


    The old man, the Firestarter, looked up at me with surprise.


    I grabbed him by the arms and dragged him behind me, heading out of the house.


    An explosion roared in front of us. One of the neighboring houses. That must''ve been why the fire spread across the street.


    Unfortunately, the corridor also collapsed. I looked around, trapped by burning debris once more.


    "I''m sorry," the Firestarter whispered to me. His voice was weak and reedy, barely audible over the crackling flames.


    I looked down at this man, who had indirectly burned me to death once before, and would soon cause my death.


    I patted him twice on the shoulder. "I''ll get it right next time, old man."


    My last thought before the fire claimed us was, I swear I''m never going anywhere near a fire ever again.

 Chapter 14

    A moment of weightlessness that stretched for an eternity.


    Damn! I thought as I hung there. It had been 148 runs since I discovered the link between preventing deaths and changes in the weather, 142 runs since I burned to death together with the Firestarter, and 5 runs since I last died in general.


    I gritted my teeth. I almost had it this time! Then I was falling forward onto the sidewalk again.


    I rolled forward, smoothly snatching my briefcase on the way. The roll ended in front of the weird pot on the doorsteps of house number 0.


    Without hesitation, I plunged my left hand to the pot and grabbed a handful of sharp grit and gravel. The sharp stones dug into my skin, drawing blood. I ignored the pain and scooped the bigger, smoother pebbles underneath the sharp layer with my other hand. I moved with economical precision, depositing the bigger pebbles to the front pocket of my briefcase.


    Immediately after collecting seven pebbles, I secured the flap one-handedly¡ªsince my left was still full of sharp gravel¡ªthen picked it up and jogged up the street.


    It was a challenge to jog with the added weight on my right hand at first, but I had long since adjusted. Running while carrying a briefcase in one hand was an awkward affair in the first place.


    At 11:11 sharp, I skidded to a stop next to the child. I kneeled and lifted my briefcase horizontally above us.


    I looked the boy in the eye, then threw the sharp gravel in my left hand upwards.


    Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!Pop!


    Blood droplets from my left hand and popped balloons debris rained down on us. I counted to three, then lowered the briefcase and stood up.


    The child gaped at me, then at the burst balloons, then back at me.


    I left him there before he could do anything else. I knew the boy would be safe even after I left him. The sun shone brightly on the demolition site, after all.


    I really didn''t want to see that sad expression again if I could help it.


    It was for his own good. I told myself again.


    I don''t have time to pander him. This was the swiftest way I could get the boy to give up on his balloons. I can''t afford to spend 30 minutes there. This is a life-and-death matter.


    The words still rang as hollow as always. I ran on, trailing drops of blood on the sidewalk behind me.


    As soon as the street leveled out, I slowed down to a walk and got my breathing in order. I took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat off my face, careful to not stain it with blood. Still walking, I took off my wristwatch and stuffed both the watch and my bloodied left hand into my pants pocket. A moment later, the demolition site rose from the horizon. I forced myself to keep to a brisk walking pace despite my impatience.


    With great familiarity, I weaved my way through the crowd and stepped over the separating tape.


    I strode up to the foreman. "Mr. Tully?" I called imperiously.


    The foreman turned to me in surprise. He took in my suit, briefcase, and expression, then straightened up. "Yes? May I help you, sir?"


    "Progress report please," I said, eyes flicking away dismissively.


    The foreman hesitated, "Urm...who-"


    I sighed, then looked him in the eye. "HQ sent me. Now hurry up, I don''t have all day. I have a lot more sites to check after this."


    "I-I..."


    "Out with it then. Have you done a sweep of the building? Stop. Don''t answer that, I know you haven''t. Go have your men do a sweep," I said.


    The foreman gathered his wits and opened his mouth, then he looked me in the eye.


    I channeled all the impatience and frustration I''ve felt at the situation. It was all real too. I''ve spent way too many runs trying to get him to do this sweep.


    He closed his mouth and gave a curt nod before heading towards the construction vehicle to call the other workers.


    This was the fastest way to do this. I could coax him into it. But inevitably, Sideburns will interrupt.


    As if on cue, he stepped over the tape and called out to me, "Excuse me! Excuse me, sir!"Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    I turned toward him and heaved a world-weary sigh. "What is it now?"


    "Yes hello! Are you someone from PillarWorks Group?" Sideburn asked.


    I observed him quietly.


    He shifted nervously.


    "No, I don''t work for PillarWorks, why would I?" I nodded towards the foreman and four workers walking in our direction. "They don''t work for PillarWorks either."


    Sideburn tried to laugh it off, but I wouldn''t have it.


    "You are... Mr. Harlow from room 14, aren''t you?" I asked him, stepping closer.


    Sideburns took a step back in surprise. "Yes. But how-"


    I cut him off. "Who''s that next to you?"


    Both Sideburns and the guy next to him flinched.


    A woman stepped out from the crowd. "Let me introduce you. This is Raymon, from room 15. Now, sir, I''m sure you''re aware, but this demolition is preposterous. You have to-"


    "No," I said.


    "No?"


    I nodded. "No."


    I gazed at ¡°Raymond¡±. He was a scruffy-looking man, with tanned skin and unshaved salt and pepper beard.


    The woman sputtered. "I should''ve known there was not a single decent lot in-"


    I raised a hand, cutting her off. "I meant no, this is not the resident of room 15."


    The crowd quieted. The foreman and the other four workers stopped in their tracks too.


    Sideburns gritted his teeth and took a step back. "I don''t know how you''d know that. We''ve never seen you before!"


    The crowd started murmuring.


    I sighed, then picked out a person in the crowd. "Mr. Louis, room number 1," I moved my gaze to another person. "Mr. Martin, room number 2. Ms. Vivian, room number 3."


    I named them one by one. Then I looked at Sideburns. "Mr. Harlow, room number 14."


    I held his gaze for a moment. He was pale and sweating by now. "Who''s the one next to you? He''s not the resident of room 15."


    Ignoring the murmuring crowd, I ordered the foreman, "Leave two workers behind to settle the crowd, then follow me to room 15."


    I strode off without looking back.


    I climbed the stairs to the third floor two at a time, then headed to room number 15.


    The foreman and workers trailed behind, panting slightly.


    I nodded towards the door. "Break it down."


    They looked at each other nervously.


    "Now, gentlemen," I said.


    One worker stepped forward and kicked the door. He bounced back.


    I sighed. "Stop. You''ll hurt your ankle."


    I took a few steps back, then kicked the door. The worker¡¯s earlier kick had loosened it, so the door easily burst open with a bang!


    The foreman and workers exchanged glances.


    I ignored them and entered, heading straight for the room at the end.


    The door opened, and Raymon¡ªthe real one¡ªstepped out. "Who are you?!"


    I heard the foreman gasp behind me.


    "This building is about to be demolished. Please vacate immediately," I said.


    His mouth opened in shock. "I-I..."


    I looked at the workers behind me. "If Mr. Raymon refuses to come out, just drag him out."


    I walked past the Screamer¡ªRaymon¡ªinto his workroom, ignoring the sounds of struggle behind me.


    I retrieved an antique watch from the table, slipping it into my right pants pocket.


    I came out and said to the foreman, ¡°Nobody else here, let''s go."


    The sound of the Screamer wailing resounded in my ears as I left.


    I didn''t stick around after I came out of the building, instead jogging towards the end of the street, then turned left. After another minute of jogging down the left path, I approached a nearby garbage bin. I tipped it over with a kick, scattering trash everywhere. This particular bin was perfect for my purposes. It was near a tree and filled with dry paper and cardboard. I set down my briefcase to free my hand, then picked up a piece of paper. I lit it with the lighter I carried on my left suit pocket, then dropped it into the pile of trash.


    I watched as the fire spread quickly, shuddering slightly. I returned the lighter to my pocket with shaking hands. Gritting my teeth, I kicked most of the burning trash towards the base of the tree.


    I nodded in satisfaction, dusted my hands, then retrieved my briefcase. I turned around and jogged back to the crossroads, the fire growing behind me. I climbed the footbridge, then waited in the middle intersection.


    The sun was shining brightly above, the trail of black smoke from the fire I set a sharp contrast.


    After burning to death together with the Firestarter 142 runs ago, I vowed to stay away from fires for the rest of my life. Who would¡¯ve thought I¡¯d end up starting one intentionally?


    I sighed, slightly guilty. But this was the fastest way. I could''ve prevented the fire in house #50. It was relatively simple, even. I just had to arrive before 11:39 and open a package of prepacked food for the old man. In and out in less than 2 minutes. But if I did that, I could never get past the sea of humans on the right path afterwards. It took me 9 runs to figure that out and change tack.


    Taking a deep breath, I cupped my hands around my mouth, then shouted, "FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!"


    The sea of humans on the right path jolted, looking in my direction¡ªand, more importantly, the smoke behind me.


    I dealt the final blow, shouting, "RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"


    The crowd ran, stampeding down the right path.


    I shook my head, kneeling to retrieve the pebbles I stored earlier. Observing the crowd with cold eyes, I counted the seconds under my breath.


    "Six seconds later, I threw the pebble at a woman, causing her to flinch. Moments after, a man rushed headlong into the spot where she had been. If she hadn''t flinched, they would have collided and caused a domino effect, tripping several others."


    I continued, throwing pebbles at specific locations in specific times. With me herding the stampede, "miraculously", no one got trampled to death.


    I clapped my hands to shake off the dust, smoothed down my shirt, then finger-combed my hair. I took out the antique watch I retrieved from room #15 earlier and wore it on my left wrist. I picked up my suitcase and strolled to the mansion the crowd was converging at previously.


    The street was empty save for a few fallen people moaning in pain. They''ll live.


    I scanned the street one last time, making sure there were no casualties. The wail of sirens pierced the brisk winter air. The firetrucks were finally here¡ªearlier than usual due to the fire I started. They''ll take care of the small fire I lit. They''ll also take care of the fire the Firestarter would start.


    Save the Firestarter properly for me this time, you slowpokes.


    Satisfied that all was as it should be, I pushed the mansion gate open and entered.


    This mansion had obstructed me too many times. Even getting past the gates took me 9 runs to figure out. The other 132 runs? I spent it inside that damned mansion.


    I gritted my teeth, glaring at the door.


    This run, I was determined to clear it and finally claim my freedom.

 Chapter 15

    Unlike the other buildings I''ve seen on this street, the mansion was bright and lively. Flocks of guests swarmed in and out in a never-ending cycle. The ones coming out did so unwillingly, escorted by bulky men. The ones coming in did so with triumphant expressions on their faces, eager to make the most of this opportunity.


    At least, it used to be like that. Now the entrance was as deserted as the rest of the buildings on this street, worried faces peering out through the windows.


    I strode up to the front door. Just looking at it made me sick.


    Venting my frustration, I shoved it open. Let the gauntlet begin.


    A gatekeeper nearby¡ªthough I didn¡¯t know whether he really was one¡ªturned his head to look at me, frowning.


    I looked back at him, a hint of disdain in my eyes. I shook my head and adjusted the antique watch on my wrist.


    The gatekeeper¡¯s eyes snagged on the watch, then he turned away.


    Step one completed.


    After 132 runs, I¡¯d advanced step by step¡ªbut the balcony remained out of reach. I strode deeper into the mansion, talking, tricking, and threatening my way through.


    There was a bloodless battle being fought here today, and I want no part of it. An old dying tycoon with no chosen heir had caused ¡°friends¡±, ¡°family¡±, and ¡°acquaintances¡± to swarm the mansion like a committee of vultures. I would''ve watched on in amusement, but now they''re in the way of me and my final target.


    I strode up the stairs to the fourth floor. A false rumor I started about cake had cleared most obstacles.


    Step number 65 completed.


    The people on this floor weren¡¯t as easily bluffed. Fortunately, I didn''t need to. They can talk and fight to their content, holding each other back from climbing the fifth floor where the old Tycoon was supposed to be resting in.


    My target was on the second-floor balcony, but this damned mansion had the most convoluted floor design I''ve had the displeasure of encountering. The balcony the old man would jump from could only be accessed through a stair starting from the fourth floor.


    Now that tidbit of information took dozens of runs to figure out, since I needed to explore without getting thrown out. When I get my hands on the architect of this mansion...


    I ran down said stairs but paused on the landing between the third and second floor. When I first got to this point five runs ago, I was too giddy and rushed. There was one last obstacle here.


    I peeked around the stair railing, watching an old man standing guard in front of the door at the end of a corridor. Despite appearances, that old man was a ruthless killer. I rubbed my chest, feeling a pang of pain.


    Seriously. Who shoots people without asking?


    I steeled myself, then turned the corner, walking down the stairs to the second floor in measured steps.


    The old man yawned, putting one of his hands inside his suit to scratch himself. Or so it appeared. I knew he was readying himself to draw a gun.


    I stopped in place, smiling at him. Peeling off my outer suit coat, I turned and threw it behind me. I didn''t know why this lowered his guard, but it did.


    The old man took his hand out of his suit. "Who''re you then?"


    "Nobody important. I have a message for the young master inside," I said. Indeed. This old man was the butler/bodyguard/employed assassin of the eldest son of the old Tycoon. I have no idea what the most likely heir was doing in this isolated room when everyone else was busy buttering up the old Tycoon on the fifth floor. Did he think his position was secure enough?


    I hated not having enough information, especially since this might be important. What caused the old man inside to jump off? Did the old man even jump off? Or was he pushed off? Is he silencing a witness to a crime?


    I had even entertained the thought that the old man was used to incite a stampede. It would clear out the crowd outside and cull the competition, after all. But surely, he wasn''t insane enough to start a stampede just to get his way, right?


    "A message?" the scary elder asked with a raised eyebrow, breaking me away from my musings.


    I nodded. "It''s important," I said. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    I kept things vague this time. Four runs ago, I got myself in trouble by claiming that the old Tycoon was calling for his eldest son. I didn''t know why the scary bodyguard was so suspicious of me, honestly.


    He eyed me for a moment, then knocked on the door behind him.


    A minute later, it opened to reveal a man in his 30s. Caspian was bedecked with luxury from the tip of his hair to the bottom of his shoes. "Yes?" he asked in an annoyed voice.


    "This one claim to have an important message for you sir," the old man said.


    I smiled meaningfully while packing as much bullshit as I could into my next sentences. "Yes, beg your pardon, sir Caspian. I was entrusted with a message from the eldest miss. She said it was for your ears only."


    He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What is it then? You can deliver it now. Don''t mind old Reginald, he''s hard of hearing, right?" Caspian nudged Reginald with an elbow.


    I''d sooner believe I''ve never told a lie since I entered this mansion than that. I thought.


    But my reply was, "Of course," I cleared my throat. "Mandarins. Checkers. Sharp. Ivory. Crimson."


    Reginald looked at me as if I''ve gone mad, but Caspian looked intrigued. "Who did you say you were again?" he asked.


    I shrugged. The words were overheard nonsense, but if it worked it worked. "Nobody important. Sir."


    He nodded. "Yes, of course. I understand."


    I don''t. You rich people and your games, I swear. Just leave already.


    Caspian turned to Reginald. "It seems my dearest sister is calling me?"


    The old man didn''t give a reply.


    Caspian nodded. "I agree. Alright then," he turned towards me, "lead the way."


    This was as far as I got so far. Of course, I didn¡¯t know where I was supposed to lead them. The message was bogus. No excuses worked, and I had grown tired of all the acting. I mutely shook my head, then leaned on the corridor wall, gazing out the window at the bright sky above.


    Minutes ticked by.


    I was surprised I was still alive. I had expected Reginald to shoot me for my impudence by now. I glanced at the pair and raised my eyebrows. "Well?"


    Caspian laughed. "Fair enough. Yes, you''re right. Can''t have that, can we? Very well, I''m going then."


    I struggled to keep a straight face. What the hell? That worked?


    Excitement rose in me, but I quickly calmed down. Accidental discoveries like this have been my primary way of progressing. As long as no two runs are exactly the same, I would learn something new. At worst, I''ll die a gruesome death.


    Caspian strode up the stairs.


    Reginald hesitated, glancing between the door and stairs. He approached me instead.


    What?! Shoo! Go away!


    I maintained a relaxed posture as he raised a hand and patted my shoulders.


    He leaned in and whispered, "wash off the blood more thoroughly next time youngling. You''re still too green." Then he followed the eldest son up the stairs.


    I watched them go in confusion. What?


    My heart burst with elation. Whatever. I did it! Finally! More than a hundred damned runs!


    Heart pounding, I strode to the door and entered. My eyes instantly locked on the old man sitting on an armchair by the balcony. I closed the door behind me before approaching.


    I sat across him in a straight-backed chair and studied him. He was surprisingly relaxed for someone that had been forced to suicide. He didn¡¯t even show any alarm when a stranger joined him, smiling slightly in amusement as we gazed at each other.


    The old man only had a few wisps of white left to crown his head. He looked gaunt and fragile, but his eyes were sharp.


    I glanced down at my wrist¡ªit was 11:48. All I needed to do was stay here and prevent him from dying in the next 12 minutes. Even if I failed, I would have more information and be a step closer to freedom.


    I took off the antique watch and swapped it with my old, battered, and now bloodstained digital watch. It suited me better.


    We stayed in silence until 11:50, then the old man spoke. "Where¡¯s my cake?"


    "Huh?"


    The old man chuckled. "I saw you, on the footbridge. Inducing a stampede was brilliant."


    I jolted in surprise, confusion wiped by tension.


    The old man laughed. "It was entertaining. You even reached me all the way here. Tell me, how did you manage to send my son away?"


    Even off-balance, that still caught my attention. "Your son?"


    The old man laughed uproariously, and for a moment I was worried he would keel over and die right there and then. "Yes! My son! Hahahaha, look at your face! You don''t know who I am!"


    The blood drained from my face. His earlier comment about cake clicked. "You''re the old tycoon?! I thought you were on the fifth floor?"


    The old man¡ªno, the Tycoon¡ªslapped his thigh in amusement. "Marvelous. If you''re acting, you''re the best actor I''ve ever met. Yes, I''m the... old tycoon as you call me."


    Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Why did you die then?"


    Damn! That just slipped out.


    The Tycoon straightened up, all traces of amusement fading from his eyes. He stared at me mutely for a moment. "How did you know?"


    I recognized something in his eyes. He wasn''t pushed off after all. It was suicide.


    "Secret,¡± I smiled. ¡°Still, why would you suicide?"


    The Tycoon was dumbfounded, but then he sighed. "Tycoon... yes I suppose you could call me that. A better title would be ''Phony'' though."


    I titled my head, surprised he would actually tell me anything. I was just drawing out the time until noon.


    "Yes. I was a phony. In my youth, I took the business world by storm, gathering wealth into a mountain. I wanted for nothing. Nothing but genuine company," he gave a bitter smile. "I was never genuine myself, you see. How could you be in this world? So, I made phony friends, married a phony wife, and had phony children. They grew up to be phony people, then had phony children themselves. Now I look around and see nothing but phony people. You can call me Mr. Phony."


    I opened my mouth, but there was nothing to say to that. I had never thought of it like that before. I knew I had to say something though, so I said the first thing that came to mind, "I think I''d call you Mr. Typhoon instead." I cringed internally.


    The Tycoon leaned back in his chair. "Typhoon... heh. Sure, I like it."


    We sat there in companionable silence. Despite just meeting, I felt at ease in his presence¡ªa kindred spirit.


    I mulled over his words, clenching and unclenching my hand on the handle of my briefcase. He had given me a lot to think about.


    A soft beep rudely interrupted my thoughts. I jolted upright. It was noon.


    Time slowed to a crawl. My heart leaped up to my throat.


    This was it. I''ve prevented all four deaths. There''s nothing left to do. The time loop should be broken. I''m free.


    But it didn''t break, and I wasn''t free.

 Chapter 16

    Weightlessness that stretched for an eternity, then I flopped forward to the pavement. My body moved instinctively, rolling forward. But without follow up orders, it kept rolling and crashed into the doorsteps of house #0. I laid there in a lifeless heap.


    No! NO! Why is it not breaking?!


    There must''ve been some sort of mistake.


    I stood up and staggered to the pot, then plunged my hand inside. The pain grounded me.


    Run #149. I thought instinctively. It was a habit I¡¯ve picked up, counting the run starting from when I realized I had to prevent deaths to escape. I tallied each run like a prisoner counting days. The illusion of progress was my only comfort when obstructed from progressing.


    But now it¡¯s all for nothing?


    My hand clenched around sharp grit, blood soaking the gravel red. I grimaced, but it was from despair rather than pain.


    This can''t be happening.


    I was so sure. Maybe one of them died afterwards. I''ll verify their fates first this run.


    I whirled and ran up the street.


    No need to check on Tycoon. He was alive at noon last run.


    Our conversation played in my head, but I shook my head and dismissed it¡ªI needed to focus on what was important.


    I''ve never caught up with the boy after he ran away. I assumed he''d survive since the weather turned sunny afterwards, but I should still verify it this run.


    Skidding to a stop next to the boy, I raised my hand to shield us with my briefcase, only to realize I didn''t have it with me.


    I forgot to retrieve the throwing pebbles too. Wait, I won''t need them.


    Settling for the next best thing, I covered the boy''s eyes with my right palm and looked down. I swung my arm to throw the gravel, only to abort the motion.


    I''m still out of breath.


    I spent the next few minutes covering the boy''s eyes awkwardly while I caught my breath.


    Once I was ready, I threw the sharp gravel upwards.


    PopPopPopPopPopPopPopPopPopPopPopPopPopPopPopPopPop!!!


    I withdrew the hand covering the boy and waited as he processed the sight. Tears streaming down his eyes, he turned and ran up the street.


    I trailed behind him, pushing myself to keep up.


    The boy was fast, but I had expected that. The problem was that he was getting faster. Not only that, but the boy was changing, getting taller. I thought I had seen it wrong at first, but no. Right before my very eyes, the boy was growing older. Already, he was an adolescent, then moments later, a young adult. Soon, I lost sight of him.


    I collapsed to my knees, clutching my chest. My breath came in ragged gasps.


    I¡¯m dying? Heart attack?


    I had a weak heart, after all. I wouldn''t even mind if I died now. I''ve confirmed¡ªas much as I could have¡ªthe safety of the boy...teen? Adult? What do I even call him now? The Jumper?


    I looked up at the bright sky above as my heart settled. Since I didn''t keel over and die, I might as well check if Screamer was safe.


    I ran through the strategy again, then made my preparations. I briskly walked up the street to the demolition site.


    ***


    I looked behind me at the workers. "If Mr. Raymon refuses to come out, just drag him out."


    I walked past Screamer into his workroom, ignoring the sounds of struggle behind me.


    I took this chance to study his workroom properly, having never bothered before.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The walls were tool walls, but too many were taken, leaving glaring gaps. The few tools that remained were unrecognizable. Against all four walls there were long, wooden tables. On top of them, the rest of the tools were scattered along with gears, cogs, and other parts. Despite taking up most of the space inside the room, the tables weren¡¯t enough, and the mess overflowed to the wooden floor below.


    In contrast to the carelessly scattered parts, half-finished wristwatches were carefully isolated in the center of each table. They looked like prototype versions of the antique-looking watch Screamer offered me all those runs ago. The same watch I usually take to deter the-one near the mansion''s entrance.


    I narrowed my eyes at the artificial lighting inside the room. Although it was noon, curtains were drawn over the window.


    The sound of struggle died down.


    I left the antique watch where it was this run, then came out and said to the foreman, "Clear. Nobody else here, let''s go." I headed down the stairs, the sound of Screamer wailing resounding in my ears.


    Once outside the building, I pretended to go down the street before doubling back.


    No one noticed my return, too immersed in their shouting match.


    "How could you?!"


    "That was attempted murder!"


    "We trusted you!"


    "Friends, please! I was just-" that was Sideburns.


    I had to admit to feeling a vindictive glee when I heard his desperate pleas.


    "I''ll be pressing charges on you lot!" that was the foreman.


    "Wait! Please! I-" that was... Screamer? I wasn''t familiar with his voice yet. Ironic.


    I slipped inside the apartment building and hid, peeking out at the crowd gathered around Screamer and Sideburns.


    It was a lot of back and forth over the next half an hour, but it could all be condensed into several points. The residents were outraged at Sideburns. They also desperately distanced themselves away from being labeled accomplices of a murder attempt. Sideburns was in despair after being labeled a murderer. While said attempted murder victim had a hollow look in his eyes.


    He had just been saved, so why does he look like he had just lost everything instead?


    Feeling a strange sense of unease, I paid closer attention to Screamer. But he did nothing else but stare blankly at the air. I recognized that look. I''ve done it myself once or twice. It was a look of despair.


    With a beep, the world faded, and I was falling forward to the sidewalk. I stepped forward to regain my balance.


    Okay, so the... Jumper and Screamer were alive at noon. The problem is Firestarter then. Did those useless firefighters not save him after all?


    That was impossible. I''ve confirmed Firestarter''s survival myself in an earlier run. I spent 3 runs trying to get the timing just right.


    What''s the problem then?


    I was stumped. But the strange sense of unease lingered. The boy''s teary-eyed and heartbroken expression crossed my mind. Then Screamer''s hollow-eyed gaze.


    Filled with doubt, I decided to check on Firestarter. I didn''t use my speed-run method this time. I ignored everything else and made my way to house #50 on the left path.


    I stood on the doorsteps and checked the time¡ª11:25. I''ve never bothered to learn Firestarter''s routine, so I didn''t know what he''d be doing at this time. Knowing the front door was locked, I looked for another way in. I found it in the form of an unlocked second-floor window. I''ve learned how to climb walls in my attempts to get to the mansion''s second-floor balcony. It was a dead-end route, inevitably getting literally shot down by multiple guards.


    I was glad I didn''t learn how to climb in vain.


    I slipped into the house quietly, then tiptoed my way down the stairs. I found Firestarter where he had always been in earlier runs¡ªsitting on the dinner table with a pre-packed food on the dining table in front of him.


    Does he not move at all?


    I stifled my breathing and settled down to observe him from the doorway, careful to hide myself properly.


    Minutes ticked by, and nothing moved. It was as if time had frozen in this house. Outside, people were living, struggling, and dying. But all was still right here and now, in this dimly lit kitchen.


    Firestarter stared at the prepacked meal in front of him, barely blinking. When he finally moved, it was not just an end to silence and stillness. It was as if time itself flowed once more.


    Firestarter swept the package off the table in an angry, disgusted swipe, splattering it against the wall. He jumped up, then yanked the fridge open. I couldn''t see inside from my position, but I saw his shoulder slump in defeat.


    He grabbed a nearby pre-packed food¡ªindistinguishable from the one he flung away before¡ªand ripped its packaging with great familiarity. He dumped the contents into a pan, then turned the stove on. It was one of those gas stoves that use fire instead of electricity.


    I stared at his lonely back in silence, processing what I''ve just seen.


    I was wrong. He didn''t need help opening the packages.


    I glanced down at the time¡ªit was 11:37.


    The stove flared, a nearby package catching fire. Firestarter recoiled away, panicked. His efforts just spread the fire further.


    I stood up, then crouched down again. Something held me in place. It was an understanding accompanied by the sinking realization that I had done him wrong.


    Soon, the fire grew too large to extinguish, and Firestarter seemed to realize it too. He scraped off what¡¯s left of the burned food, piling them on a plate. He sat down at the dining table, staring at the burned food for a while. Then he took a bite.


    Firestarter smiled.


    I shuddered, then averted my eyes. It was 11:39.


    I withdrew my head from the doorway and leaned on the wall, closing my eyes. Firestarter''s smile seared in my eyes. It held relief and regret, bitterness and longing, grief and desolation.


    BOOM!


    The neighboring house exploded. The corridor crashed down in front of me. Our fates were sealed now. But that was fine. When the fire came for me, I embraced it.


    It was too painful for words, but less painful than the realization that I had failed in this, too. What would Firestarter have felt, when he saw me open the pre-packed food, then smiled and told him to eat up?


    The world faded, and I found myself falling forward to the pavement. I stepped forward to regain balance, then took a deep breath. The smell the smoke and taste of ash lingered.

 Chapter 17

    Run #150.


    What¡¯s the point?


    The faces of everyone I had "saved" flashed through my mind.


    Did I really save them? I prevented their deaths, sure. But they looked like they preferred death instead. The boy, Screamer, Firestarter. All of them. Had I just made things worse by saving them?


    From the start, I saved them for selfish reasons¡ªbecause I thought it would break the time loop.


    That was who I was. I plowed forward, disregarding their wishes for my own satisfaction, my own goals.


    I laughed bitterly. Did I really have no idea that something was wrong? No. I had an inkling. There was clearly a reason the Screamer refused to come out. Sideburns was really suspicious too. But I ignored it. Just like I ignored the boy''s wishes. Just like I ignored the look in Firestarter''s eyes when he looked at me.


    Now what do I do?


    ***


    I found myself on the doorsteps of house #50. I didn''t know how I got there, my body on autopilot.


    It was 11:35. Just minutes until the fire.


    What am I doing here? Am I really going to do this?


    144 runs ago when I burned to death, I had identified the stove as the source of the fire. So on the next run I simply arrived before 11:39 and cut it off at the source. Indeed, the fire never spread out of control since then. I never had to burn to death again. Indeed, after 9 runs, I grew comfortable enough and started a fire instead to incite a stampede.


    I thought I was doing Firestarter a favor. I thought I was saving his life. But I wasn''t. Even from the start, I knew something was wrong. But I chose to ignore it.


    I couldn¡¯t run from it anymore. I needed to see for myself just how much I had wronged Firestarter.


    Taking a deep breath, I recalled how I stopped the fire 143 runs ago. I had to emulate it perfectly.


    I took a few steps back, then rushed up the steps and kicked the door down.


    I sighed internally. I was in the kicking-the-door-down phase back then. How embarrassing.


    Like an actor following a script, I emulated everything according to my memory.


    I rushed in, heading straight for the kitchen.


    Firestarter looked up at me in surprise.


    I smiled at him. What did I say again? "Afternoon sir. You look like you''re having trouble with that. Let me help you."


    I stepped forward and took the pre-packed food on the table and ripped the packaging off. I laid it down in front of him, my hand trembling slightly.


    Ah, I''m a bastard. Seriously.


    I looked Firestarter in the eyes, then smiled brightly. "Eat up."


    Firestarter choked on his words but gave a tenuous smile in return.


    The smile was like a knife stabbed my heart.


    I turned and left, smile fading. I should''ve known there was something wrong. I closed my eyes briefly, then ran out of the house.


    Once outside, I quieted my footsteps and sneaked back inside. I creeped down the corridor and peeked inside the kitchen.


    Firestarter stared blankly at the opened pre-packed food on the table in front of him, still as a statue.


    He glanced behind him at the stove, then back at the food.


    I has been a while since I last ate, but even to me, the pre-packed food looked disgusting. I had noticed that before, but turned a blind eye, too lost in my own goals to care.


    Firestarter took a bite, his face contorting to a grimace. A tear rolled down from the corner of his eye.


    The knife twisted.


    I didn''t know why he was all alone here, or why there was only pre-packed food, or even why he decided to cook the already cooked meal. All I knew about him was that he disliked these pre-packed meals. And even that tidbit was only gained last run. Before that, all I knew was he started the fire. It was what I called him since I didn''t even know his name. Firestarter. That was all I thought I needed to know.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    I might not know much about Firestarter, but I knew that I had hurt him.


    Guilt and regret washed over me as I watched Firestarter force himself to eat. I saw these people as targets and obstacles, treating them like pieces to be moved or puzzles to be solved. How could I not, when I''ve seen them doing the same thing repeatedly? Any changes could be traced back to my actions.


    But I was wrong. They are people too. With thoughts and feelings. I didn¡¯t know how I could¡¯ve forgotten.


    Even this emulation of events could be considered unnecessary torture.


    I knew my actions would hurt him, but I did it anyway. For what? Because I wanted to make sure? Just because I''m in a time loop, I can do whatever I want to people? Good. Very good. Just stay in the time loop and enjoy then.


    I ran away from the house.


    I found myself on the gravel side path headed to the river. Was I subconsciously trying to reach the Tower still? Even now?


    Unlike the previous runs, the riverbanks weren''t deserted this time. A man leaned on the raft, watching the river pensively.


    This is new. Is it because the fire didn''t start?


    I approached the man. I remembered everyone of consequence out of necessity. He looked familiar, but I was sure he didn''t play a major role in any of the earlier runs. Maybe I''ve met him in passing during the earlier runs and the changes I¡¯ve caused had moved him here? That would explain why I recognized him.


    The man looked up at my approach and the feeling of familiarity intensified. I was surer than ever I had seen his face somewhere.


    He croaked with a hoarse voice, "You look like a man looking for death. Why don''t you tell me what''s wrong?"


    On a whim, I told him everything. Even about the time loop. He was the first one who didn''t laugh in my face. As I told him a condensed version of my story¡ªI was still on a time limit, after all¡ªI felt lighter than I had in a long while. It was liberating to unburden myself in this way.


    "What do you think?" I asked him after I finished.


    "Honestly? It would''ve been better if you just left them be," the man laughed.


    I bristled at his response. "They''re all alive, aren''t they?! What more do they want?"


    He shook his head. "You''re alive, aren''t you? What more do you want?"


    I choked.


    "The boy you called Jumper. He would''ve been happier chasing after his balloons."


    "He would''ve died!" I defended myself with a guilty conscience.


    He nodded, then peered into my eyes for a moment. He continued, "The one you called Typhoon, do you think he would still jump after your chat?"


    I shook my head. Why would that matter after noon? I paused at the thought. I didn¡¯t realize¡­


    "Exactly," the man said. "Next. The man you called Screamer. Have you ever asked for his story? Whether he wanted to be ''saved''?"


    I shook my head mutely.


    "He was in debt you know. 15 years he worked in that sweatshop of a company, living hand to mouth. He was a master of clockwork."


    I thought back to the antique watch I''ve treated as a mansion entry token. "Why didn''t he leave the company?"


    He smiled meaningfully. "Legal bullshit. You know how it is. That, and he was content to be a cog in the machine, doing what he loved."


    He sighed. "Until he needed money for his sick parents. Real sob story. He didn''t have anyone to turn to, having spent most of his life working in that room. So when someone offered him a way out..."


    I thought back to the demolition site, things becoming clear. "Sideburns?"


    He nodded. "You could use their names, you know."


    I shook my head again, instinctively. "Wait, how do you know all this?" I asked.


    He waved my question away. "Where was I? Right, so Sideburns, as you so aptly named him, met the Screamer by chance¡ªonce in a blue moon thing¡ªand learned of his situation. He cooked up a plan. He would get Screamer the money he needed, even promised to take care of his parents afterwards."


    I nodded. "All he had to do was die, right?"


    "Indeed. And it had to be an accident for the insurance claim to come through. And so. The demolition ''accident''."


    "What a devious little shit," I scoffed.


    The man nodded.


    I sighed, then took out the silver cigarette case. It glinted in the bright sunlight, dazzling in contrast to its noxious contents. I turned it over in my hands, tracing a thumb over the logo embossed in the center.


    It read: Stratos Inc.


    I swung the case open and took out a cigarette. It was a premium, rolled up cigarette. Top quality stuff. It was how my superiors showed favor. They call you over after work, drinking and sharing cigarettes. I could still handle the drinks, but the cigarettes...


    I wouldn''t touch them. I knew what harm they could do. I''ve seen the data. But it wouldn''t do to refuse their favor so blatantly, so I had this cigarette case made. I poured four months¡¯ worth of salary into the luxurious case. Then whenever I got one offered, I would accept and store it inside, saying such precious things need to be savored well.


    My superiors were happy I regarded their favor so highly, I was happy I don''t have to kill myself smoking the damned things, so it was a win-win, right?


    Right. But if I had bent over backwards to avoid them like the plague, why did I still knowingly work hard to spread and market it?


    I could still stifle my conscience when the target was adults. They''re proper adults; they should be responsible for their own choices. But adolescents?


    I gritted my teeth as I recalled my latest assignment.


    Of course I didn''t refuse. I poured 110% of my efforts, in fact. For what? The position of CMO? So I could keep doing this?


    Each project, each scheme I''ve done, chipped away at my conscience. I buried guilt with hard work and stress. And now here I am. Stuck in a time loop.


    I was doing the same thing. Even when given infinite chances to change, I still sacrificed others for my own ends. A leopard can''t change its spots.


    I lit the cigarette and smoked it. I choked, coughing as tears gathered in my eyes.


    What a damned thing. What''s so good about it?


    The man watched my antics. ¡°Those things will kill you, you know.¡±


    ¡°If only it¡¯ll stick,¡± I smiled bitterly.


    I stared at the Stratos Tower across the lake. "What about Firestarter?"


    "Hmmm?"


    "You¡¯ve talked about everyone else. What about Firestarter?"


    "You already know."


    I did know already. Out of everything, Firestarter''s bitter tear this run and his contented smile as the world burned around him last run struck me the deepest. I sighed. "What do I do?"


    "That''s for you to find out," the man said in a weird tone, as if he was imitating somebody.


    I studied the man. "Who are you, really?"


    He winked. And the world faded away.

 Chapter 18

    I stared down the street, waiting.


    A black car screeched up the road towards me.


    My lips twisted into a confident smirk.


    Just moments before it ran me down, I sidestepped smoothly, the wind tugging my hair as it hurtled past.


    As soon as the black car disappeared beyond the horizon behind me, another one appeared in the distance ahead.


    I had wondered whether it was the same car or a different one, but it didn''t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.


    I had lost track of how many runs it had been since my conversation with the mysterious man by the riverbank¡ªwhat''s the use of keeping track? I sought him out the very next run, but he was gone.


    It was unbelievable. But 12 runs spent seeking him out forced me to swallow the hard truth.


    I still couldn''t recall where I had seen him before. I knew he was an integral part of solving the time loop, but it was useless if I couldn''t even find him.


    After those fruitless attempts, I lost my purpose. It was just like he told me. It would''ve been better if I did nothing. Everyone would be happier.


    And so, that''s what I did. Nothing.


    For a while, that was enough, just existing. But the weight of my existence grew unbearable as time trickled past.


    An hour isn''t that long of a time. Even the 130 runs or so I did for the mansion was just 4-5 full days. It was nothing, a fraction of a life. But to me, it was a lifetime.


    I sidestepped the black car without looking.


    Boredom gnawed at my being, and before I could do something unwise, I sought out my targets. The Tycoon was first, and our conversations were always a delightful distraction. I didn¡¯t neglect the others, though.


    I had spent so long trying to save them, but¡ªas I realized with Firestarter¡ªI hadn¡¯t really seen them as people. So, I took this chance to get to know them.


    Perhaps that was a mistake. I wanted to help them more after knowing them. But I couldn''t. I don''t have the capability. Even after I helped them, it would all be meaningless in the next run. Like sandcastles near the ocean.


    The screech of burning rubbers caught my attention. The black car had gotten creative and drifted towards me with a sinister precision. I ran forward and vaulted over it in a fluid motion.


    If I really wanted to save everyone properly, I would need to solve the time loop. So I decided to revisit the clues. Which was how I found myself confronting the black car again. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was playing with it. What else was there to do? The clues hadn''t panned out, no matter what I tried.


    I didn''t go on another suicide spree though. I didn''t know better back then, using pain and self-flagellation as a misguided outlet. But dying is easy. You just need to stand there and take it. Preventing deaths, on the other hand, that took true skill.


    The black car held no more danger for me though, so this was getting boring too.


    Beep.


    I stepped forward to steady myself. As always, helplessness and despair drowned out my world. What was the point? I couldn''t even end it all. Remembering the suicide spree put me in a nostalgic mood, so I decided I would visit the boy this run.


    I watched the boy jump, his eyes fixed on the balloons above.


    I stayed quiet. It was pointless to try to talk to him anyway, he never responded.


    As ordained by fate, at 11:16, the boy jumped and stumbled.


    Arms crossed, I extended a leg to nudge and prevent him from falling. Even if it doesn¡¯t matter, I didn''t want to see him die right in front of me.


    And so it went. The boy jumped. Stumbled and lost his balance. I nudged him. The boy went back to jumping.


    As I watched him, I felt an itch in my heart. A veritable mix of impatience, ridicule, despair, envy, anger, frustration, grief, and encouragement.


    Words bubbled up before I could suppress them. "What''s the point?¡±


    I felt an irrational anger rise, burning in my chest. ¡°Why do you try so hard? What''s impossible is impossible."Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    My voice grew louder as the anger erupted. "Do you think you could grow wings and fly? Do you think the balloons will take pity on you and float lower so you can grab them?"


    The boy smiled and shook his head, then jumped again.


    I sighed. "Forget it. Jump all you want. You won''t fall and die with me here at least."


    The boy spent the entire hour tirelessly reaching for the balloons.


    When it was 11:59, I sighed.


    "In the end, you didn''t achieve anything, kid."


    The boy stared at me mutely, panting slightly. He grinned, content.


    I stepped back in surprise, seeing the look in his eyes. He wasn¡¯t defeated. He was satisfied.


    Beep.


    A step forward to prevent falling.


    The boy''s grin was stuck in my mind. It was foolish, childish, illogical, and insane.


    But it was also inspiring. I stood rooted on the spot, enlightened.


    To live is to struggle. So I will struggle. Even if it''s unsightly. Even if it''s pointless. Even if it drove me mad.


    I would strive to break the time loop. Not only so I wouldn''t have to live the same hour repeatedly. If the child was allowed to continue jumping even past noon, would he have managed to grab one? For the sake of seeing that future, I would do my best to struggle.


    I strolled towards the child. He was jumping again. I knew he didn''t remember anything from the last run. But I was sure that even if he remembered, he would still be here. Jumping.


    "You''re insane, kid," I said to him.


    The boy laughed silently.


    It was the first time I''ve seen him do that. I stepped closer to him and extended both my arms. "Do you trust me? Come closer."


    He did.


    I hoisted him up, recalling the run when I forcibly tried to carry him away. But that wasn''t my intention this time.


    I made him stand on my shoulders. ¡°Careful,¡± I said, holding him steady. "Can you reach them now?"


    There was no reply. Of course there wasn''t. I looked up.


    The boy held a balloon in each hand, grinning down at me.


    I smiled back. "Finally. Damn, I should''ve done this ages ago. Come on down now."


    The boy shook his head.


    "What? You want more? Get more then."


    The boy offered a balloon to me instead.


    I smiled. "For me? Thank you. But get down first, you''ll fall at this rate."


    The boy stomped on my shoulder, urging me to take it.


    "Argh, fine. Don''t move," I took the balloon.


    The boy closed his hand around my fist, as if not allowing me to let go.


    I stared at him in confusion, not sure what he''s trying to do.


    He grinned at me.


    An ominous feeling rose in me.


    The boy started floating.


    I gaped, doubting my eyes. But no, the boy was really floating. The balloon he clutched in his right hand floated, hoisting him. His left hand held my right in a firm grip, dragging me along as he soared higher.


    Before I could react, we were already higher than the second-story buildings around us.


    I clutched his arm with both hands, alarmed.


    "What?!" I looked below us. "What the hell?!"


    The world spun beneath me as I watched the street get smaller. If we continue like this, would we fly away to outer space?


    ¡°I¡¯m dreaming, aren¡¯t I?¡± I asked in a dazed voice.


    ¡°Not yet, you¡¯re not," a voice replied from nearby.


    We were high in the sky. The only other person beside me was...


    I whipped my head up to stare at the boy.


    "What?" he asked. His voice was light and high-pitched, with an airy and wispy quality to it.


    I was dumbfounded.


    The boy smirked.


    I stammered. "You-you..."


    "What you? Never heard someone speak before?" the boy asked mischievously.


    "You can speak?!"


    "Obviously. I''m doing it now aren''t I?" the boy rolled his eyes.


    A strange incongruity permeated me. "You don''t sound like a 10-year old child," I said uncertainly.


    "What?! This voice is perfectly child-like right? I worked hard on it!" he said, flustered.


    How can one work on their voice? "I''m not talking about the voice," I said.


    "Oh, phew. Who told you I was only 10 years old? Don''t judge people by appearance please," he said with a raised eyebrow.


    Wasn''t he the one concerned about how he sounded? I decided to move on for the sake of my sanity.


    "How are we flying?" I asked.


    "We? There is no we. I am flying. I''m just bringing you along...for now," he gave an innocent smile.


    "For now?! What do you mean for now? Put me down first before you do anything," I said.


    The boy shook his head. "Start dreaming."


    Did this boy want to kill me or something? Please spare me, I have a weak heart! I can''t take this.


    The boy laughed at my expression. "Go on, dream."


    He said dream as if it would mean something to me. I ran over our conversation again. Didn''t he say something weird at the start?


    "Back then, what do you mean I''m not dreaming yet?" I asked.


    "Exactly that. Now dream already," he said.


    "I don''t get it," I said.


    "Ugh. Of course you don''t. You¡¯re too grown up," said the boy.


    ¡°Grown ups can¡¯t dream?¡±


    ¡°They can I suppose. Boring dreams. Barely able to float," the boy scoffed dismissively.


    I came to a realization then. "I need to dream to fly?"


    "Obviously! Keep up mister. That''s what I''ve been telling you all this time," the boy shot back.


    Ugh. I think I liked him better when he was mute.


    "Stop getting distracted and start dreaming already," said the boy.


    "How?"


    "Don''t you have a dream? This is why grownups are so..." the boy''s voice trailed off as he muttered to himself.


    I understood him then. "You mean like goals?"


    The boy nodded. "Close enough. Now think about yours."


    Hanging in the sky and left with no other choice, I complied.


    What is my aspiration?


    The answer came immediately. To get out of this time loop.


    I opened my eyes and looked at the boy expectantly.


    The boy looked at the balloon in my hand.


    I followed his gaze just in time to watch it swell and pop.


    We stared at the limp string flailing in the wind.


    The boy burst out laughing.


    "Hey now, quit it. What''s going on?" I asked.


    The boy laughed harder.


    I sighed.


    "Haha. Ha. Alright, I''ll stop, sorry. Don''t sulk," the boy said.


    "I''m not sulking."


    "Uh-huh. How did you even do that? Did you dream about making the sun rise from the west tomorrow?"


    My brows furrowed. So you''re saying escaping the time loop is impossible?


    The boy pulled and hugged me close. "Sorry. I shouldn''t have laughed. Let''s get another balloon."


    The hug erupted a cocktail of emotions inside me. I stiffened, unsure how to respond. When was the last time I received a hug?


    Then a flash of alarm rose. What did he just say? Get another balloon?


    Before I could ask, the boy held me tighter and whispered, "down we go."


    We fell from the sky, my stomach lurching from the sudden drop.


    I struggled in panic, but the boy held me with supernatural strength, stifling any resistance.


    I sighed and accepted my fate.


    So this is why he held me tight. Give me back my feelings!

 Chapter 19

    I soared through the bright sky, the balloon in my grip defying all rules and logic. Hanging the entirety of myself on only one arm should¡¯ve been an uncomfortable experience. But the magic of the balloon hoisted me thoroughly, instilling me with a sense of purpose and empowerment.


    It took me dozens of runs to learn to dream again. I was too ¡°grown-up¡± according to the boy. The dreams I had were too cold and heavy. But with time on my side and endless repetition I got the hang of it.


    ¡°Breaking out of the time loop¡± inevitably pops the balloon, while ¡°Become CMO and get filthy rich¡± made it sink like a rock. I could only dredge up long forgotten memories to experiment.


    My childhood dream of ¡°becoming an astronaut¡± finally produced a response. I floated slightly, and for a moment I thought I had it. But it was too whimsical and uncontrollable. I shot up to the sky, then the balloon popped, and I fell. Once I hit the sidewalk, it was my body¡¯s turn to pop.


    I shuddered at the memory, lowering my altitude slightly. Ahead of me, the demolition site awaits. What took me minutes to cover by jogging could be done in a fraction of the time now.


    The trick to dreaming properly was to have a vivid picture that calls to you from the bottom of your soul but still grounded by cold reality.


    An indescribable sense of liberation permeated me as I felt the wind in my hair. Flying was... fun. The time loop had been a torturous hell for me. It was absurd, illogical, and couldn''t be understood.


    I knew that even this fresh excitement would be ground down to monotony in time. But I realized that I didn''t care. I was having fun, and I would enjoy it while it lasted.


    However, even in my revelry, I didn¡¯t forget what I had to do. Flying had opened more options to break the time loop, but that can wait for another run.


    This run I wanted to go back to my roots and visit all four key people¡ªthree now since I had already met the boy.


    After the chat with the mysterious man by the riverbank, I¡¯ve spent entire runs catering to one specific person or another, trying to get to know them. I did manage to help them get a better end, but it was physically impossible for all of them to have a good ending in the same run.


    The balloon changes everything. Just this run, just this once, even if it¡¯s for my own satisfaction, I wanted to give them a good ending.


    I flew straight through the bedroom window of room #15 on the third floor with a crash and rolled forward. Glass tinkled to the floor as I brushed off my hair and shoulders. Raymon peeked in timidly with wide eyes.


    I smiled at him. "Hello Ray, pleasure to meet you."


    Raymon bolted out and I chased after him. Before he could close the door to his office, I surged forward and stuck a foot in. "Let''s chat for a minute, shall we?"


    Raymon''s face paled as his eyes darted around like a trapped animal.


    "Relax, relax. I''m not here to hurt you. I won''t even expose your little scam with Sidebu-," I coughed. "¡­with Mr. Harlow. Come on, let¡¯s chat for a minute?"


    And so we did. Like I mentioned before, this wasn''t the first time I sought him out. I''ve spent several runs getting to know him.


    But even now, I still didn''t know what to do with him. I could see where he was coming from, and since he had made up his mind, who am I to dissuade him? In fact, if I could kill myself permanently right now, I would do it instantly. How dare I prevent him from doing the same?


    This time, for the first time, I didn''t try to dissuade him. In a way, I envied him a little. He was trapped too, but still had one final way out at least. More than that, his exit would even help the people he''s closest to.


    We chatted for what felt like hours but more like minutes in reality. Perhaps it was because I had stopped trying to prevent him from doing what he had resolved to do, but it was a pleasant conversation. I glanced at my watch¡ªit was 11:27.


    I sighed regretfully then stood up. "I have to go. It''s been a pleasure Ray."


    Raymond looked surprised at my sudden announcement.


    I smiled at him, then turned to leave.


    "Wait!"


    I looked back.


    "Why?" Raymon asked.


    Even though he didn''t specify, I knew what he meant. "No reason in particular," I said. I looked into his eyes and couldn''t help but add one more sentence, "to live is to struggle."


    Raymon''s smile turned brittle.


    I returned a broken smile of my own, "But struggling is too tiring. I know. You can look for me anytime you want, and I hope I''ll see you again. But if not... I understand."Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    I leapt from the broken bedroom window and floated away.


    Leaping off from a three-story apartment located at the peak of a hill was not for the faint of heart. Since I had a weak heart, I had no business doing it. I did it anyway.


    It was quite a thrilling¡ªand more importantly¡ªfast way of travelling. In less than a minute, I had fallen to the end of the street.


    My heart sank as the building lining the crossroads loomed close. How the hell do I turn? Fuck! I''m going to die!


    Miraculously, I skimmed over the top of the buildings instead, knocking rooftiles off to the sidewalk below.


    I really hope those didn''t fall on someone.


    I crawled back and peered over the roof. The roof tiles laid shattered on the sidewalk, but fortunately that''s the only thing that laid shattered there.


    I heaved a sigh of relief then considered my next steps.


    I want to end this beautifully.


    Taking a few steps back, I braced myself, then rushed forward. I leaped off the edge of the roof, the balloon loosening gravity''s hold of me. I ignored the sea of humans below me, soared all the way to the balcony in the mansion.


    This time, I managed to land more gracefully than the previous two times, falling right between the Tycoon and his eldest son. I stared at the latter for a second, forgetting that he would be there since I hadn''t lured him away.


    The door to the room crashed open and the scary old man came in.


    I put the eldest son between us and spoke as fast as I could. "Mr. Typhoon, you are late for your lunch appointment. You can kill yourself afterwards."


    Everybody in the room stared at me. I cursed myself inwardly. What the hell was that? This is why I need a script to follow.


    Surprisingly, the old Tycoon nodded. "Yes, I was wondering when you will pick me up. Let''s go then."


    "Father?!" "Sir?!"


    Tycoon waved a hand to silence them and looked at me expectantly.


    Now what? I really didn''t think this through.


    "I''ll need to collect the ingredients first, could you please wait-"


    The tycoon cut me off with a raised hand. "Reginald, take care of it. Caspian, buzz off."


    "Father. Who is-", he wilted under the Tycoon''s glare. Then they both left the room.


    Within a few minutes I was holding onto the tycoon with one hand, while my other clutched carefully packaged food ingredients and the balloon. I looked at the tycoon. "Should we get a sneak peak of jumping?"


    He looked back at me speechlessly.


    I jumped, the balloon supporting us gently. Soon, we arrived at the door of house #50. I knocked on the door and waited.


    The Tycoon was strangely silent this run. I was surprised he went this far without any questions or complaints.


    The door opened and the Firestarter stared at us in surprise.


    I smiled at him. "Good afternoon Mr. Hayes, we''re here to join you for lunch. I hope you don''t mind."


    That finally got a reaction of the Tycoon. He shot me a look that said, what is this crazy man doing with me? Why did I follow him?


    I gave him a reassuring nod in return then looked expectantly at Hayes.


    He was still dumbfounded.


    I cleared my throat.


    Hayes snapped out of his daze and smiled. "Ah... yes? Yes. Of course, come in."


    We trailed behind him to the kitchen.


    I made the introductions, then started cooking.


    The two old men looked at each other over the dinner table awkwardly.


    I filled the air with chatter, breaking the ice. Soon I didn''t even need to prompt them before they chatted happily with each other. I served the food, then quietly left. They didn''t notice my absence. The moment I got to know them both, I knew they would get along with each other. They were strikingly similar in some ways, yet widely different in others.


    I strolled out of the house, not wanting to disturb them. I sighed. I had tried to make them meet before, but this was the first time I succeeded.


    They wouldn''t remember it anyway. In fact, even this run will soon pass into obscurity. Everything I did would have no meaning. But at least for this hour, they could be content.


    Subconsciously, my feet brought me to the riverbanks. The Stratos Tower stood in the distance. Even now, I still felt the pull. But it no longer filled my mind.


    A voice called out behind me, "what are you thinking so hard about?"


    I jolted and whirled around.


    The mysterious man stood behind me, hands clasped behind his back.


    "You?"


    "Me."


    I had sought him out countless times, and he showed up now? A gnawing certainty crept up my spine¡ªthis man has something to do with the time loop.


    "Yes, I have something to do with the loop," he said off-handedly.


    My heart skipped a beat. What did he just say?


    "I said I have something to do with it, and no you didn''t say that out loud."


    Did I say that out lo-what the fuck?


    Thoroughly unnerved now, I unconsciously took a step back.


    "You''re done by the way," he said. "With the time loop I mean."


    I felt like I had been hit at the back of my head. I couldn''t understand what he was telling me. "Done?" I croaked hoarsely.


    He nodded. "Yep. This could be your last one if you want."


    I couldn''t believe it. But there was no harm in believing him either. Just as I was about to express my agreement, Raymond''s face crossed my mind, and I frowned. I still felt a bitter aftertaste for the whole affair. Like leaving things half done. I looked up at the bright sky above me.


    This run was as perfect as I could make things. But it was still not perfect. If I had more time, I''m sure I could-


    "No," the man interrupted.


    "Hmmm?"


    "This run. You either get out now or you stay. I suggest you get out," the man said.


    I sighed. Of course things wouldn''t be so easy.


    "If you must know, Raymon''s doing fine. You did your best," the man added.


    "Should''ve said that earlier you asshole," I said, relief palpable in my voice. Then there was nothing holding me back.


    "Are you sure there''s nothing?" he asked.


    "Yes," I said.


    "It''s almost noon, you know," he said.


    So what? Then I realized something and looked at the tower in the distance. The meeting.


    "Yes. Exactly"


    I shook my head. "Doesn''t matter. End it already."


    "Are you sure?"


    "Yes," I replied firmly.


    I looked over the river, reminiscing.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t lie to you, didn¡¯t I?¡± the man suddenly asked.


    ¡°About what?¡±


    ¡°I told you, you¡¯ll find what you want at the end of the street.¡±


    The line knocked a memory loose. At the very beginning, before I was even aware of the time loop. Someone said that to me. Who,,,?


    The bus driver! I turned to look at him, ¡°You-¡°


    I felt a sharp kick from behind me and was launched over the river, drawing a beautiful arc. The force pushing me forward was inexorable, and only flying practice with the balloon prevented me from panicking.


    At this rate I would fall right in the middle of the river. And there was nothing I could do about it. I glanced behind me at the bus driver waving cheerfully at me.


    What the hell?


    I crashed into the river with a splash.


    That damned bus driver!


    The river current was deceptively strong, and soon I lost all control.


    Fuck! I¡¯m going to drown.

 Chapter 20

    My heart sank as I plunged down the dark river. I was helpless against the current. Soon, even the bright sunlight faded, smothered by the uncaring depths.


    I held my breath for as long as I could, but death was approaching. I had courted it for so long I had become familiar with the soft steps of our dance.


    If the driver was to be believed, then I had already broken free. How ironic that I would die soon after. It would be a final death, and I found myself drawn to the idea like a moth to flame.


    Why bother resisting? Doesn''t death sound nice? My existence has been a plague. Why not give it a rest? Why not rest in death''s embrace? I''ll finally do the world some good.


    No!


    My eyes snapped open. I struggled against the current, reaching for the sunlight above. I had just seen the light, saw the errors of my way. If I die now, won''t it all have been for nothing? Even if I die, I will not go quietly.


    But my body was too weak. My lungs begged for air.


    For what must''ve been the thousandth time, I cursed myself for not working out more.


    Ah... death. My flailing grew weaker, energy depleted.


    If a next life exists, I hope I become a better person.


    For the first and final time, I drowned and died.


    ***


    I gasped awake, breathing in great, heaving breaths. My heart thumped in my chest, and I had never been more cognizant of its presence than right now. It beat steadily, pumping life-giving oxygen.


    I took a step forward to gain my balance but found that I couldn''t¡ªI wasn''t even falling forward in the first place. My mind stuttered with incomprehension.


    I found myself seated on a proper chair for the first time in a long time. I was... inside a bus?


    Across the aisle, a group of teenagers glanced at me from the corner of their eyes, nudging each other.


    One of them asked, "Are you okay mister? Not having a heart attack there, are you?"


    I stared at him mutely. Then shook my head. I looked at my watch. It read Dec 21, 10:33 AM.


    I titled my head in disbelief. I read it again. Dec 21, 10:33 AM.


    What the hell?


    I glanced out the window, seeing a familiar building¡ªthe Stratos Tower.


    I held back a manic laugh.


    Dream? Did I fall asleep and dream?


    I disembarked from the bus in a daze.


    "Hey! Mister!" a voice called out to me.


    I glanced back at the bus driver¡ªan unfamiliar face.


    "Yes?" I asked.


    The driver jerked a thumb back. "You forgot your briefcase."


    So I did. I went back in and retrieved it. "Thanks."


    He waved a hand.


    I looked down at my briefcase with complicated thoughts, then up at the Stratos Tower standing proud in front of me. I could reach it in a couple of steps.


    So easily? Get off the bus and I''ve arrived already? After all that struggling?


    But it was all a dream, wasn''t it? There was no struggle.


    It had all felt so vivid. Even if it wasn''t real, the changes it catalyzed in me were undeniable.


    In front of the tower entrance, I saw a group of teenagers crowding a vending machine. It was an innocent enough scene, if only the vending machine was normal. It wasn''t, it sells cigarettes.


    Sure, you had to provide a valid ID and be of age to purchase any, but it was a paper screen to hold off legal troubles at best. I knew for a fact that the verification system was faulty and easily bypassed. It was designed that way in fact.


    Who could''ve come up with such a diabolical idea?


    I did. What I had considered a feather on my cap now seemed like a monument of my sins instead. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    For the briefest moment, I hesitated. I could look away and enter the tower. Even though my overlong dream of the time loop had made me forget everything about the presentation, I knew I was capable of reacquainting myself with it quickly. I had everything I needed on my briefcase.


    I approached the teenagers instead. Some of them were familiar¡ªI had just seen them inside the bus.


    "Hey boys," I called out.


    Heads turned toward the interloper; eyes squinted in defiance.


    I gave them the line they were expecting, "smoking kills, you know."


    Their faces turned sullen, as if they had heard it all before. I knew it wasn''t going to be easy from the start though, and I only had one chance this time.


    I gave them a playful smirk. "So if you want to die, at least get the good stuff. Not that cheap shit."


    They stared at me in confusion.


    My smile turned genuine. I took out the silver cigarette case and distributed everything to them. I made sure to discretely flash the Stratos logo embossed in it.


    They accepted it numbly.


    I nodded at them. "Have fun dying."


    I lingered for a bit, putting the case away, smoothing out my suit, readjusting my watch, hoping one of them would ask. I wasn''t disappointed.


    "Why are you giving it to us? Is this a promotion or something?" one of the teenagers who was on the bus with me asked.


    I smirked at them, picking up my briefcase. "Don''t flatter yourself. Those are premium stuff."


    As I walked away, I shot back at them, "Nah, I just don''t smoke. Those things really kill you, and I still enjoy living."


    They stared at my departing back in silence.


    The lobby of Stratos Tower was a grand sight. A cute receptionist greeted me, "Good afternoon sir. You''re here early. There''s still about an hour until the directors arrive."


    I nodded at her, glancing down at her nametag. "Good afternoon, Cindy. Yes, I thought I''d get here earlier to be safe. Can you direct me to the lounge?"


    "Of course," she smiled. "I have to say sir, that was really well done."


    "Hmmm?"


    "Your handling of the adolescents outside. We''re really getting some heat from the media for our vending machines. The way you handled this was just phenomenal. I recorded it all of course."


    It took me a while to understand what she was trying to say. On one hand, I really did handle it well since I explicitly told them not to smoke. On the other hand, saying she recorded it was a subtle threat. No matter what, dissing company products, especially on record, would leave a black stain on my reputation internally. It would be especially harmful if she handed it to one of my rivals.


    She wanted to join my camp, showing leverage and a peace offering in one go.


    I held back a sigh. These games again. It reminded me too much of the 132 runs I''ve spent in the mansion. I paused.


    Dream. It was a dream.


    Realizing I haven''t responded, I smiled at her. "Indeed. It''s good that you recorded it. I hope it spreads as widely as possible."


    She tilted her head in confusion.


    I laughed. She would never figure out I really meant what I said. I left her behind, entering the lounge area.


    "Sir? The board is ready to see you now," an attendant called out to me.


    I looked up from my work, glancing at the time. It was 11:55.


    "Thank you. I''ll be right there," I said as I finalized what I was working on.


    I rose from the plush sofa and made my way to the meeting room, briefly stopping to print out a few pages.


    Taking a deep breath, I entered the room, smiling at everyone there.


    My heart pounded in my chest. Cold sweat ran down my neck.


    The Tycoon¡¯s smile flashed in my mind.


    I distributed the paper I had just printed around the table, receiving nods and warm smiles in return.


    Beep.


    I flinched as my watch announced noon. When time flowed smoothly, I heaved a sigh of relief. I was free. It was all a dream.


    I could go on with my life.


    "Good afternoon directors of Stratos Inc," I smiled and made eye-contact with every person in the room.


    It was a good day. I took a deep breath.


    "I am here to hand in my letter of resignation today," I said, still smiling.


    The directors froze, looking at each other in disbelief.


    "I''ve printed and distributed it earlier so you might peruse whenever it''s convenient."


    The room exploded into chaos. Shouts, demands, questions.


    I weathered it all the same way I weathered the chaotic sea of humans in the right path. I smiled and ignored them, making my exit.


    ***


    I closed the door to the hotel room behind me. Truthfully, I didn''t know how I got there. After I left the tower, I checked into the nearest hotel. Everything felt like a surreal dream.


    First things first though.


    I collapsed into the bed. Then I knew no more.


    I woke up parched with a full bladder. It was a familiar yet unfamiliar sensation. I took care of my basic needs. An enjoyable luxury I had taken for granted.


    I considered going back to sleep but held off. My mind was too restless for that.


    Deciding to take a walk to clear my head, I made my way out of the hotel and froze in place.


    Everything was so dark.


    I glanced down at my watch. It was Dec 22, 4:37 AM.


    I strolled the streets, fascinated by the night view. Soon I arrived at a familiar river. Curious, I followed it, then saw a bridge.


    Was this the bridge on the right path? I never got a chance to reach it. Was it all really just a dream?


    I decided then that it wasn''t. Even if it was a dream, it would still be real to me. Even if no one believed me, only I had to know.


    Would I be able to see them?


    I stepped onto the bridge, tracing my hand on the railings.


    Ahead of me, I saw a silhouette of a man swaying unsteadily on their feet.


    My heart pumped; my senses sharpened.


    The man fell to the river below.


    I sprinted forward, habitually adjusting for a weight that was no longer there. I looked at the dark river below. The man wasn''t resurfacing.


    Before I could think twice, I jumped down. Dark icy water embraced me, and I was reminded of the one and only time I drowned to my death.


    Ah... crap. Perhaps my self-preservation instincts are fried. It''s replaced by risk-your-life-to-save-strangers instincts instead? I''m so screwed.


    I found the man quickly despite the dark. He didn''t struggle as I towed him behind me.


    I collapsed on my back once we reached the banks of the river, utterly spent. The man I saved stared at me with a complicated expression then left without a word.


    I watched his back, more intrigued than offended by his taciturn nature. I followed him.


    He made his way back to the bridge where he had fallen from before. The exact same spot in fact.


    Does he think this is an amusement park ride? One time isn''t enough?


    He gazed at me impassively as I approached.


    I saw something there. The image of Raymon superimposed in him.


    I sighed. I did regret it a bit.


    Still...


    I gave him a smile, "Sorry. And you''re welcome."


    He sat down on the bridge, grabbing a bottle of liquor from where it sat by the railings.


    I moved between him and the edge of the bridge, leaning on the railings.


    ¡°On an otherwise nice and normal Monday morning, I burned to death. Rather..."


    -THE END-