"...May?"
Chrono's voice broke the silence, trembling and barely above a whisper.
The fog had cleared—but what it left behind would never leave him.
He stood frozen, his eyes locked on the crimson-soaked floor, his entire body trembling. His voice cracked again.
"...May…"
The weight of the scene pressed against his chest like an anvil. Her head—her actual head—lay inches from his foot, eyes open, empty, her mouth frozen mid-expression. Her body remained eerily still in the chair, leaking an ocean of red.
His breath hitched.
Why… why is her head here?
It should still be on her body… right?
Why is it at my foot? Why is there blood everywhere?
Why? Why? WHY?!
This… this isn't…
Chrono's thoughts spiraled into chaos, a storm of disbelief and horror crashing against the walls of his sanity.
Someone's head shouldn't—
It shouldn't come off that easily.
It's not right. It's not possible.
This is a dream. This has to be a dream.
If it is, wake me up damn it! This doesn't make sense!
He gripped his hair, knuckles pale, his knees beginning to buckle as the coppery scent of blood invaded his nose. The sound of his own heart was deafening.
And then—
"Hey kid."
A gravelly voice shattered his thoughts like a rock through glass.
Chrono jolted, spinning toward the sound as if ripped from sleep. His vision snapped into focus. There was the librarian, seated casually at the counter, flipping through a tattered magazine like nothing was wrong.
"We close in five minutes," the old man said, voice lazy with fatigue, "but it's best you leave now."
Chrono stared at him, unblinking, mouth slightly agape.
What the hell...? Didn't he hear that? Didn't he see what happened?
The stench of death still filled the air. May's head still sat on the floor like a grotesque ornament, and yet…
The librarian didn't even look up.
His mind reeled.
Why is he acting like I'm the only one here?
Chrono bit his lip, trying to hold back the shaking in his jaw.
"…Sir," he managed, voice quivering, "could I ask you a question?"
The librarian sighed, slowly lowering the magazine.
"Hm?"
Chrono hesitated, as if the question might destroy him just by being spoken.
"…How many people do you see in this room right now?"
There was a pause.
A long, suffocating silence.
The librarian looked up at him. Blinked. Scoffed.
"Just you and me, kid."
His lips curled into a half-smirk, amused, as if Chrono had asked whether unicorns were real.
Chrono stood motionless, face empty, his voice drained of warmth.
"…Oh. Alright."
He turned back toward the table and slowly pushed in the chair, his hands stiff, mechanical. He took a step. Then another. Each one heavier than the last, as though gravity itself didn't want him to leave.
Outside the library, the world greeted him with silence.
He stopped beneath the flickering streetlamp just past the door. He stared down.
His shoes.
Red.
His pants.
Stained to the ankles.
His shirt. His face.
Splattered in thin streaks of drying blood.
He swallowed hard.
No one else seems to notice. So I guess…
…the blood's only visible to me, huh.
His lips twitched.
He wanted to cry but he couldn't.
He wanted to laugh it off but he couldn't.
He didn't know what to do.
His legs gave out from under him, dropping him to his knees on the cold pavement.
The air grew thick in his lungs.
What am I supposed to do?
I killed her.
It's my fault.
But how was I supposed to know?
Why?
Why me? Why HER?!
Someone… please. Anyone…
He clutched at his chest like it was tearing open from the inside. His fingernails dug into his uniform. His heartbeat was thunder in his ears.
He bit down on his lip—hard—until he tasted blood. Until it numbed the scream bubbling up from deep inside.
But it didn't hold.
It tore out of him.
A scream of pain.
Of sorrow.
Of unbearable confusion.
Of guilt that drowned everything else.
His voice cracked the air like a dying soul being ripped apart.
"THIS IS MY FAULT!"
He roared.
And the city said nothing back.
Just the soft hum of the wind.
And the blood… drying beneath his knees.
He panted heavily, finally letting go of his chest.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, legs wobbling beneath him like they could give out again at any second. He dusted the dirt from his knees, shaky hands brushing at nothing, then took a single step forward.
Then paused.
He didn't know why he stopped.
He just… did.
His body halted on its own, like it knew something his mind couldn't process. Everything inside him was unraveling, like thread pulled from a fraying sweater—thoughts collapsing into static.
How do I even think straight after this?
I can't just brush this off and move on like I usually do.
He stared blankly at the ground, his mind trying to breathe in a place that offered no air.
I just indirectly killed someone… wiped them from existence, too, it seems.
His jaw clenched. He swallowed hard.
How...
...How am I supposed to move on from this?
What am I even supposed to do?
Damn it.
Chrono dragged a hand through his hair, clutching it for a moment before yanking his hand away, fist curling tight at his sides. His eyes fell to the book — resting silently in his hand.
He stared at it like it was both savior and executioner.
It held the answers he needed to survive. But it was the reason someone was now dead.
I... can't let anyone else touch this book.
His lip trembled as he bit down on it again, the sting grounding him slightly. Blood returned in metallic taste. His fingers twitched.
He wanted to throw it. Toss it into the ocean and let the tide claim it. Bury it. Burn it. Anything. Just to erase it from existence. But if he did, his chances of survival would drop to zero.
I... have to keep pushing. I can't let this stop me.
He told himself that.
But his body told a different story.
A single tear slid down his cheek. Slow. Unwelcome. Heavy.
I'm... crying?
He touched his face in disbelief. But as soon as he wiped it away, another tear followed. Then another.
And another.
They wouldn't stop.
Chrono's grip on the book tightened as he looked up into the night sky, tears streaking silently down his face. He didn't bother to wipe them away anymore. There was no use.
Then, his gaze lowered to the pavement below, droplets of his sorrow tapping softly against the earth.
I have to head home... Mom's gonna get worried if I'm too late.
He forced himself to think about something else—anything else.
He started walking.
But each step was like dragging a chain behind him. His shoes felt heavier. His heart even more so.
Still, home was the only place he could truly—if only temporarily—recover.
---
After some time, Chrono reached his house. He stood outside for a moment, hesitating before lifting his hand to knock.
The door creaked open before he could.
It was his mother—Stephanie Chrono.
Her face lit up the second she saw him. "Hey, Chron—"
She stopped.
Her expression shifted immediately, eyes darting over him.
"What happened? You look like a mess."
She began fussing over him—fixing his crooked tie, brushing dirt from his shirt, motherly instinct kicking in with every soft motion.
"You look pale too. Did you get in trouble?"
She tilted his head gently, brushing the dust out of his hair.
"I wouldn't say so."
Chrono replied, keeping his gaze down. He tried to sound casual, detached. But even he knew his voice cracked in ways he couldn't hide.
Stephanie's eyes narrowed, concern growing deeper. She cupped his cheek with her palm.
"Is everything alright, Chrono?"
She asked softly. Her voice was gentle, but the weight in it was undeniable.
"I… wouldn't say so."
He repeated—only this time, his voice faltered. The guilt clung to his words.
She didn't press. Just watched him quietly, her thumb brushing his cheek. Then:
"Well… do you want to talk about it?"
Chrono nodded faintly.
Without a word, they stepped inside. Stephanie closed the door behind them as they walked toward the couch. She patted the cushion beside her, inviting him to sit.
Chrono hesitated. He caught his father Zander's eye at the dining table. They exchanged a nod.
He sat beside her.
"So... what's your issue, Chrono?"
She asked, settling in—crossing one leg over the other and resting her elbow against the armrest, hand on her cheek.
He stared at the floor. A whole minute passed. Silence lingered until, finally, he spoke.
"Hypothetically, Mom… let's say you're playing football, and your teammate's asking for the ball to shoot—he's through on goal."
Stephanie's brows rose, intrigued.
"So you pass the ball to him…"
He paused, his eyes moving from the floor to the ceiling above.
"But a defender comes in at the last second and pushes them off the ball."
Another pause.
"...Let's say your teammate falls badly on their leg. It causes an injury so severe… it could end their career."
He turned toward her, eyes shaded with exhaustion and weight.
"Was it your fault they got injured… or not?"
She blinked. Then looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully, one finger tapping lightly at her lip.
"That's an interesting question, Chrono."
Her lips curved slightly into a smirk.
"Hmm… I'd say it's not your fault."
"But—"
"Shh. Let me finish."
She raised a finger gently to stop him. He leaned back in acceptance.
"Yes, you passed the ball," she said, gesturing as she spoke. "But there's no way you could've known a defender would come in last second."
"But if I never passed the ball... he wouldn't have gotten injured."
Chrono muttered, head lowered again, fists clenched.
"If I had just... read the game better, predicted what would happen, then—"
He stopped, voice cracking under the guilt.
"That's true," Stephanie said, her voice steady, "but there's a limit to what you can and can't control."
Chrono looked up at her again, searching her face.
"There are so many ways that situation could go. Let's say, for instance, you're outside the box, and there are four or five defenders in front of you. Taking a shot is almost impossible."
She paused, collecting her thoughts.
"Sure, maybe you could dribble past them, maybe not. But your teammate is in position—clear, ready to shoot. So what do you do? You pass. It's the most logical decision."
She leaned back, relaxing more into the couch.
Chrono frowned.
"What are you getting at, Mom?"
"I'm saying… you made the best decision with what you had. But sometimes, even the right choice leads to consequences you never saw coming."
She paused again.
"There are situations you just can't control—even if your logic is sound."
"But… if I hadn't made that decision in the first place, then the consequence wouldn't have happened."
His voice rose slightly—anger and guilt bleeding into it.
"Alright," Stephanie said, grinning now, "what if you're being pressed by two defenders? You've got barely a second to react. You don't have time to analyze every possibility."
She leaned in, smirk growing.
"So you pass. Not because you saw the defender coming for your teammate, but because you're trying to protect the ball."
She snapped her fingers, pointing at him.
"The last thing you're thinking about is whether a defender will knock him over."
She leaned her head to the side, tone teasing but firm.
"In that moment, you acted instinctively—and logically."
Chrono stared at her, still fighting against the weight in his chest.
But for the first time in hours, the guilt stopped pressing quite so hard.
"Instinctively and logically, huh…?"
Chrono repeated, placing a hand on his chin as he processed his mother's words.
In the situation with May… the most logical decision was to hand her the book. She asked for it.
He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the floor.
Because think about it—imagine someone comes up and asks to see the books you're reading. Then later, when you're interested in one they have… they refuse. That wouldn't make much sense. It'd feel unfair, even shady. So handing her the book—yeah, that was the most logical and sound thing to do.
His expression darkened, a bead of sweat trailing down his cheek.
But the consequence of that action… I probably should've thought more carefully about what might happen if I actually gave it to her.
For starters, I did suspect it might not be a good idea.
The thing is… I had no proof. Just a gut feeling. Nothing more. No concrete reason to say, "This will kill her."
It was a gamble.
And unfortunately… it ended up costing her life.
But—taking in what Mom said—maybe there really wasn't much I could've done differently. I made the most rational decision I could have made at the time… and the consequence just happened to be horrific.
His eyes widened, realization dawning like a spark.
But what if… I'd made an illogical decision instead? Something that wouldn't have made sense at that moment?
Then… she would've survived. Because she never would've touched the book.
A logical decision caused a negative outcome. But an illogical one could've led to a positive outcome.
He began tapping a finger rhythmically against his cheek, thoughts spiraling.
But… how would I know?
How could I possibly know when a logical action will lead to a terrible outcome?
How do I predict that?
His brow furrowed, frustration building.
In that situation… what could I have done differently?
If I was so worried about her touching the book… what choice could I have made that still made sense, but didn't put her at risk?
What…?
What…?
He tapped harder on his cheek, heart racing, mind racing faster.
Then his eyes widened.
Like a puzzle piece locking into place.
The pages were damp…
I could've said, "The pages are wet. I wouldn't want you to ruin your clothes touching this."
Then if she insisted, I'd insist harder.
Eventually… she'd back down.
And I could still show her what she wanted to see—from a distance.
Respect her request without handing her the book directly.
A logical solution with a safe outcome.
"Yeah… that makes sense."
Chrono muttered aloud, his eyes lighting up with clarity and relief.
"Seems you're soaking in what I'm saying. I'm happy—it's been a while since we talked like this."
Stephanie smiled proudly, placing her hand on her chest and tilting her chin up, her voice warm.
"Thanks a lot, Mom. This… this made me realize something."
Chrono said with a soft smile as he slowly rose from the couch, standing a little straighter than before.
He made his way to the stairs but stopped just before stepping up, turning to his mom.
"I'm heading to bed, Mom. See you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Chrono. Sweet dreams."
They exchanged smiles, then Chrono continued upstairs. He reached his room, opened the door, and closed it behind him.
I'm still not over her death… far from it.
He plopped down onto his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
But… this situation gave me a new way of thinking.
If I'm not sure about the outcome of a situation, I need to come up with a solution that's logical—and can lead to a positive outcome.
He closed his eyes.
This also gives me a new approach for the library strategy.
I'll think more about it in the morning.
That was his last thought before drifting off to sleep.
---
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The familiar sound of his phone alarm shattered the silence.
Chrono stirred, sitting up slowly with a yawn, running a hand through his hair. He looked down at his clothes. No surprise—he was back in his white t-shirt and black shorts.
He let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Not because he was looping…
But because he had a second shot at this.
He stepped off the bed and stretched slightly.
Alright… I need to think of a way to check libraries faster.
There are hundreds—maybe thousands—in Aetherreach.
Even if my "language and linguistics" method is sound, it's still too slow.
He began pacing, one hand on his chin.
First off, I don't know how many loops I have left. For all I know… this could be my last one.
Second, there's a chance the book isn't even in the linguistics section. It could be in some random corner of a library.
And third… there's a real possibility that a translation book doesn't even exist.
Maybe "make use of libraries" doesn't mean finding a translation at all.
After all… I'm assuming this language book exists. That's my assumption.
He stopped in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the floor.
I need a way to quickly check all the books in a library…
But I can't do that alone.
It's impossible.
He sighed, scratching at his hair in frustration.
Moments like this… I really wish I had teleportation.
He sighed again, but this time his expression darkened. Just thinking about libraries again brought back the image of May.
Even though he was more composed now, the guilt still gnawed at him.
He clenched his fists, raising his head with a hardened expression.
Then—suddenly—realization hit him like a slap to the face.
Wouldn't it be easier to find something on these symbols… if I knew what they were called?
His eyes lit up, hand immediately going to his chin.
Because if I can figure out what the language is even called, I could just ask the librarian for books about it—or ones that reference it in any way.
And if it's in a library… then it must exist on the internet… right?
His gaze shifted to the computer in the corner of the room.
Then his eyes widened again—another thought crashing into him.
If other people can see the book… that means I can take a picture of it.
I can try a reverse image search.
A flash of excitement sparkled in his eyes… then narrowed into suspicion.
Surely there aren't any consequences for reverse image searching… right?
He stared at the book, which had already appeared on the table beside his computer.
His eyes narrowed—skeptical, cautious.
No… there shouldn't be any consequences for doing this. Right?
But… if there are… who pays them? Me? The internet?
He placed a hand to his chin as panic started to rise.
Then—snap.
Chrono snapped his fingers, like a loophole had just cracked open in his brain.
Alright… let's use the May situation as a reference.
It's possible she wouldn't have died if she never touched the book.
So maybe "touching" it is the trigger.
Let's say taking a picture is an unforgivable offense—just like May touching the book.
Then all I have to do… is not touch the book while taking the picture.
That way, the book won't have anyone to punish.
That is… assuming taking a picture even is an offense at all…
He paused, stopping the foot he was tapping against the floor.
Or maybe I'm immune to all offenses? That's possible too…
Still… I'll play it safe for now.
Chrono walked over to the book, staring down at it with a neutral, unreadable gaze.
He picked up a pencil from his desk and used it to flip to the third page. Once done, he tossed the pencil aside and made sure not to touch the part he used.
Then—
He took the picture.
And waited.
Five minutes.
Just stood there.
Alright… I should be in the clear.
He let out a heavy sigh.
Here goes nothing.
It's time to reverse image search this…
He hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. He wasn't sure if he was still out of danger, but… there was no way to know except to go forward.
He uploaded the image.
Pressed search.
Then waited.
His eyes widened.
He didn't find other images—
But it did lead him to a webpage.
A single webpage.
Chrono's breath caught in his throat.
Is this a trap?
Some consequence of breaking a rule I didn't know existed?
I'm not too sure about this…
Usually a web page has a blue hyperlink title… and a short description beneath it.
But this one… has no description.
And the title… the address… whatever it was—
It just says: "Vael'Zul."
He paused.
Then his eyes widened again, the name hitting him like thunder.
"Could this be… the language of the symbols?"
Chrono muttered aloud, hand slowly covering his mouth in disbelief.
There's a high chance it is… but how do I know pressing it won't kill me?
Chrono placed the phone back on the table, backing up a few steps as he stared at the screen, slipping his hands into his pockets.
There's no other way for me to find out, other than pressing it.
But if I think about it… there shouldn't really be any consequences if I die. I'll just restart the loop—since my loops haven't ran out.
But…
How do I know this isn't my last loop?
I can't be too sure. But I have to find out one way or another.
He took a hesitant step closer to the phone, until he was standing directly over it. He gazed at the screen with a troubled expression, sweat slowly beading down his cheek.
He paused—then took a deep breath.
Chrono picked up the phone and stared at the web page for what felt like forever.
His heart pounded so loud in his chest it hurt, his finger inching closer to the screen, hand trembling.
Closer.
And closer.
And closer—
Until he froze, just before his finger touched the link.
He pulled his hand back, turned the phone off, and placed it back on the table.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He let out a shaky sigh, walking back to his bed and sinking onto the edge.
How the hell else am I gonna know if this breaks the rules if I don't press the link?
How am I gonna know?
Chrono clenched his fists, bowing his head toward the floor.
Why? Why can't I just do it?
What's wrong with me?
He could feel it—his fists trembling.
I'm shaking?
Oh… I get it.
I'm scared.
Even though I know I'll loop again if this kills me, I'm still scared.
Not because I don't know how many loops I have left—
It's because I'm terrified of dying.
He let out a heavy breath, leaning back and dropping onto his back on the bed.
How could I not be, though? Look… what it did to May.
How…
How am I supposed to do anything—knowing that could happen to me?
He covered his eyes with his arm, gritting his teeth. His other hand clutched the bedsheet so tight his knuckles ached.
What am I supposed to do?
How am I supposed to confirm if this is taboo if I don't press it?
If only…
His fingers twisted more of the sheet in frustration and raw fear, the trembling refusing to stop.
…If only I hadn't handed May the book, then—
Maybe… maybe I could do it…