Alven barely slept.
All night, he sat on the edge of his bed with the lights off, accompanied only by the city glow filtering through the window, leaving pale blue streaks across the floor. The clock-shaped pendant lay in his palm—cold, still—as if whatever had happened in the warehouse earlier had been nothing more than an illusion caused by exhaustion.
But Alven knew it wasn't a hallucination.
The writing on the back of the locket was still there. His mother's message was still real. And the ticking sound he had heard in the darkness still echoed faintly in his mind, like the trace of something not yet finished.
He had tried to open the small clock cover, but failed. There was no seam, no button, no fingerprint system like modern devices. The object looked ancient, yet felt far too complex to be just an ordinary accessory.
04:13. Alven finally lay down, though his eyes remained open.
05:02. He got up again.
When the artificial sun in Nexara's atmospheric dome began to emit its synthetic morning light, Alven had already showered, put on his favorite black hoodie, and slipped the pendant into the inner pocket of his jacket. He didn't know why bringing it to campus felt like the right decision. Or perhaps it was simply a decision he couldn't avoid.
In the dining room, his uncle was preparing coffee.
"You look worse than last night," Ardi said without turning.
"I just didn't sleep well."
"Still about the warehouse?"
Alven sat down and picked up a slice of toast but didn't eat it right away. "Uncle… did Mom ever mention something called Project Rewind?"
His uncle's hand paused above the cup.
Just for a moment—but long enough to notice.
Then he continued, his calm seeming slightly forced. "It's been a long time since I heard that name."
"So it does exist?"
Ardi placed the coffee cup on the table. "There are many things from your family's past that you shouldn't dig into on your own."
"That's not an answer."
"Sometimes answers aren't the safest thing."
Alven stared at his uncle, trying to read something from the man's face. But as always, Ardi only looked tired. Not angry. Not surprised. Just like someone who had carried something for far too long and no longer knew how to let it out.
"Safe for who?" Alven asked quietly.
His uncle didn't answer.
The silence that followed was too heavy to break. Alven finally stood, grabbed his bag, and walked toward the door.
"Alven," Ardi called.
He stopped without turning.
"Be careful today."
The words sounded ordinary, yet for some reason made the hand gripping his bag strap feel cold.
The Nexara Institute of Technology stood in the eastern district of the city, surrounded by adaptive glass walls and vertical gardens stretching up the upper floors. Thousands of students moved along automated walkways—some talking to holographic displays, others rushing to class with headsets on.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
Alven passed through the identity scanner gate and resisted the urge to keep touching his jacket pocket. Since morning, something felt off. Not a sound. Not a light. More like a faint sensation that the seconds around him were moving too neatly, too precisely—as if the world was waiting for a moment he didn't yet understand.
"If you keep staring into space like that, people will think you just got dumped."
The cheerful voice came from beside him.
Alven turned and saw a girl approaching, carrying two cups of synthetic drinks. Her shoulder-length hair swayed gently in the cooling breeze of the corridor, and her eyes reflected the morning light in a way that always made everything feel lighter than it should.
Lica.
She wore a light gray campus jacket with a department badge on the sleeve, one hand holding a thin tablet, the other offering him a drink.
"Take it. I know you skipped a proper breakfast."
Alven accepted it without protest. "I had breakfast."
"Cold toast isn't breakfast."
"It's still food."
Lica narrowed her eyes. "And you're still annoying."
Usually, Alven would reply with a short remark that made her grumble. But this time, he simply looked at her a little longer than usual.
Lica frowned. "What?"
"Nothing."
"You're weird."
"I am weird."
"No, this is weirder than your usual weird."
Alven almost smiled. Almost. There was something comforting about trivial conversations like that—something that made the world feel understandable again.
They walked side by side toward the main building.
"You're still joining the group presentation this afternoon, right? Don't tell me you're going to bail again and leave me alone with Professor Soren."
"I'll be there."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Lica nodded in satisfaction and took a sip of her drink. "Good. Because if you disappear, I'll hunt you down to the underground server room."
The underground server room.
For some reason, hearing that made Alven's head throb. A faint flash crossed his mind—red emergency lights, alarm sounds, thin smoke, someone running down a corridor. It vanished too quickly for him to grasp.
He stopped walking.
Lica stopped too. "Hey?"
Alven pressed his temple. "I'm… just dizzy."
"You really don't look okay." Her expression turned worried. "Do you want to go to the campus clinic?"
"I'm fine. It'll pass."
"If you faint during the presentation, I'm still going to be mad."
"Noted."
Lica sighed softly and resumed walking, slowing slightly to match his pace.
It was a small habit most people never noticed. Lica always slowed down when Alven was struggling, without forcing him to talk—as if she understood that some people breathe easier when accompanied in silence.
They arrived at the seventh-floor classroom just before the lecture began.
The professor explained temporal stability theory for nearly two hours, but Alven didn't really listen. His attention was split between the presentation screen, his own heartbeat, and the cold sensation of the pendant beneath his jacket. Several times, he felt it warm briefly, then return to normal.
When the class ended, Lica tapped his desk with her stylus.
"Stop spacing out. Let's eat before the presentation."
"I need to go to the archive for a bit."
"Now?"
"I just need fifteen minutes."
Lica looked at him suspiciously. "Are you hiding something from me?"
Alven was about to say no, but the word caught in his throat.
Lica watched him for a few seconds. Then, unexpectedly, her expression softened. "Fine. But after that, meet me at the central plaza. Don't take too long."
Alven nodded.
He headed toward the west wing of the campus, to the digital archive room that was rarely crowded. Inside, the temperature was kept lower to preserve older storage systems. Alven sat at one of the terminals and began typing the keywords that had been bothering him:
Project Rewind.
Mira Ardian.
Satria Ardian.
First result: access denied.
Second result: data restricted by high-level authority.
Third result: not found.
"As expected."
He tried different combinations, but the results remained the same. The more he searched, the more digital walls appeared before him.
Just as he was about to stand, the pendant in his pocket vibrated.
Not just a subtle movement—it truly vibrated, short but clear.
Alven froze. He quickly reached into his pocket and grasped it. A sharp cold pierced his palm.
Then all the screens in the archive flickered at once.
The white ceiling lights dimmed briefly.
On the monitor in front of him, a file that hadn't been there before suddenly appeared:
REWIND_12H_PROTOCOL
Alven's heart pounded faster.
His hand moved almost automatically, clicking the file. But before it could open, the screen was suddenly filled with black-and-white noise. A hoarse electronic voice crackled from the terminal speaker:
"…if you hear this… don't let—"
The voice was cut off by the campus alarm blaring loudly.
All screens turned red.
WARNING. ENERGY DISRUPTION DETECTED IN CENTRAL SECTOR. LIMITED EVACUATION ADVISED.
Alven stood instantly.
Central sector.
Central plaza.
Where Lica was waiting.
Without thinking, he ran out of the archive room, down the corridor, pushing through the growing panic of students. The alarm echoed off the glass walls, red emergency lights flashing, and in the distance came the sound of something exploding—still small, but enough to make the floor tremble.
"Lica," he muttered.
He rushed down the emergency stairs two steps at a time. By the time he reached the ground floor, the campus was in chaos. People were running toward the exits, some crouching and covering their heads. Thin smoke began to drift from the direction of the central plaza.
Alven forced his way through the crowd.
When he reached the open area, the world seemed to slow down.
The plaza, once crowded, was now filled with erratic bursts of electricity from the energy tower at its center. The main light source pulsed unstably, spewing blue sparks into the air. Several glass panels shattered. Screams mixed with the sound of metal cracking.
And near the tower, Alven saw Lica.
She stood frozen with two other students, perhaps too shocked to move. A large metal structure above the tower began to loosen, tilting slowly to one side.
"Lica!" Alven shouted.
She turned.
For a moment, their eyes met in the chaos.
Alven ran toward her—but everything happened too fast. A surge of energy exploded from the tower's core, striking the unstable structure. A burst of blue-white light tore through the air. A wave of heat hit Alven's face. His body was thrown backward.
A deafening sound filled the world.
When his vision cleared, the first thing he saw was shards of glass falling like rain.
The second was Lica's body hitting the ground.
"No…"
Alven forced himself up despite the pain in his knees. His ears rang. Smoke and dust blurred everything. He stumbled toward her.
She lay motionless on the plaza floor, a thin line of blood running from her temple. Her eyes were half-open, but unfocused.
Alven dropped to his knees beside her.
"Lica. Lica, look at me." His hands trembled as he touched her shoulder. "Please… don't do this. Please."
Her lips moved faintly, as if trying to speak, but her voice was drowned by the approaching sirens.
"Alven…" she whispered.
"I'm here."
Her eyes looked at him—weak, confused—then slowly faded.
Something inside Alven shattered.
"No! No, listen to me—" his breath broke. "You said I had to come to the presentation. You said not to run away. I'm here, so don't go now. Don't—"
His hand clenched the pendant in his pocket as tightly as possible, as if the pain in his palm could wake him from this nightmare.
And at that moment, the Chronolocket opened on its own.
A golden-blue light burst from between his fingers.
The air around him twisted. The sirens stretched into a strange echo. The city lights, the smoke, the blood on his fingers, Lica's pale face—all of it seemed to be pulled backward by an unseen force.
Alven screamed, but his voice was swallowed by the spiraling sound of a frenzied ticking clock.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Then everything stopped.
Alven jolted awake at his desk in class.
The professor's voice was clear at the front of the room.
Daylight streamed through the windows.
Students' tablets glowed normally.
Beside him, Lica leaned in and whispered irritably, "If you keep spacing out like that, the professor might call on you."
Alven turned, breath caught in his throat.
Lica was there.
Alive.
Whole.
No blood. No explosion. No alarm.
The digital clock on the wall read 09:17.
Twelve hours before Lica's death.
Alven stared at her face, too shocked to respond.
Lica frowned slightly. "Alven… why are you looking at me like that?"
Because for a moment, he had just lost you.
And now time had given him a second chance.
But if time could truly turn back, would he be able to save Lica… without destroying everything?