The words hung in the air.
Time seemed to stretch, each second pressing down like the weight of a coffin lid. The guards exchanged wide-eyed glances, realizing the gravity of the deal.
The air smelled of blood and smoke. The two guards on the floor froze, hearts hammering.
A cold silence swallowed the room, punctuated only by the sharp edge of a scythe.
"I–I agree…" one of them finally said.
"And you?" the figure—Qiren—asked, tilting his head toward the other junkyard guard.
He looked at him desperately. "Please, just let me go. I won't tell anyone anything about this. I can't afford your offer—please. I have a family to take care of. Please, change it so I just have to stay quiet. I can't—"
"Then give me your soul."
"No, no, no—!" He panicked, raising his arms as a small cherub laughed and flew toward his chest. The little monsters clawed at his shirt, ripping buttons loose as they burrowed in.
"AAAH—NO—NO! DEVY, HELP ME!"
He screamed as his flesh was torn and bitten into. He grabbed one cherub and threw it away, only for another to take its place.
"AHHH! I changed—ARGH! I changed my mind! I'll accept! I accept—!!"
A baby-like harbinger of death grabbed his chin and hair.
"AHHHH!"
The guard screamed in agony as his cheek was ripped off with a single bite.
"Ignore him," Qiren said calmly, turning to the man he had just learned was called Devy. "Shall we continue finalizing our deal?"
He stretched out his hand.
Devy stared at the masked face. He heard his coworker screaming as he was attacked relentlessly—skin ripping, bones cracking, organs rupturing as they pinned him down and feasted on his innards.
Curiosity got the better of him.
He turned his head—
—and instantly regretted it.
His stomach lurched as he fought the urge to vomit. "Huff… huff… you're sick!"
His eyes burned with fury, but Qiren only stared back.
"Sick?" Qiren said softly. "Child, I lost my sanity long ago."
He seized Devy's hand by force.
The moment their fingers locked together, something incredible transpired.
You give me ninety percent of your remaining time.
That single phrasing became the catalyst—time, a simple word used as a substitute for lifespan.
Qiren's mistake in wording began something even he didn't fully understand.
…
"Tell me… how can I help you?"
A woman spoke—one gold horn, clockwork eyes.
…
N@m#: D#vy Row_n
Ag#: 5#
Remaining Time:
24 years, 43 days, 4 hours, and 12 seconds
Words burned into his vision before the woman's face became clear, leaving a hollow ache in his chest.
"Mei—"
His phone buzzed violently beneath his robes, floating within his chest cavity, its light shining where there should have been none.
It began to break apart—its frame unscrewing.
He couldn't voice what he felt at the sight before him. That couldn't have been her.
He clenched Devy's hand tighter, his eyes blazing as he forced the momentary distraction away.
Focusing on the change brought upon by his contract—the phone's self-dismantling and reconstruction—
Qiren felt lighter as it reformed.
Dismantling.
Screws drilled into bone. Plastic melted and fused with other parts. A screw tightened around invisible threads linked to the clustered mass that had once been the flip phone.
Glass molded.
Metal twisted.
Arms clicked into place.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
A clock floated behind his sternum—its body pitch black, crimson Roman numerals the only color.
The world slowed.
Time came to a halt, leaving only Qiren conscious.
Devy groaned as his body rapidly aged—his beard whitening, growing, then falling away.
Danger! Danger! Danger! Don't look! Don't look!
The warning screamed inside Qiren's mind.
Yet his vision slipped past Devy—past the room.
Two figures stood frozen nearby, reaching for Devy's arm. A man and a woman. Faces twisted with grief. Wounds torn through them. Blood-stained eyes staring in silent accusation.
The sound of an engine echoed.
Screeching brakes.
Impact.
Qiren tore his gaze away the instant one spirit's finger twitched—moving even in frozen time.
More revealed themselves.
A single eyeball, larger than Qiren, drifted through the ceiling.
A dog with a human face slept atop the desk.
A diced rabbit hung mid-hop, its body sliced into clean sections.
And then—
An ox lay chewing grass that grew directly from the floor, slow and peaceful, completely out of place.
Each anomaly existed at a different depth, layered over one another, yet occupying the same space.
"What am I even looking at…?"
He couldn't finish before a foreign sensation settled inside his body.
21 years, 257 days, 20 hours, 24 minutes, 10 seconds.
Time surged through him. His lifespan swelled in seconds, masking his aura of death.
Name: Devy Rowan
Age: 53
Remaining Time:
2 years, 150 days, 7 hours, 36 minutes, 2 seconds
The frozen world shattered.
"Huff—! Huff—!"
Devy yanked his arm back, staring at himself. His skin sagged with wrinkles. His clothes hung loose on his frame. He hyperventilated, clutching his chest.
To him, it felt as though decades had been ripped away in an instant.
He touched his face.
His eyes widened.
He grabbed his phone, flipped it open—
—and saw himself.