It was April 28… again.
The morning sunlight trickled through the heavy velvet curtains, casting a dim glow over the richly furnished room. Everything was draped in an air of solemn elegance—polished mahogany furniture, intricate tapestries. Riley blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
"Good morning, Master." A soft, melodic voice pierced the silence. A woman in a black gown and a white apron stood at by the door, her head bowed slightly in respect. "It's time for your bath," she continued, her voice unwavering.
For a fleeting moment, Riley felt disoriented. He had been in this room before, but the details seemed sharper, more vivid, as if everything had been amplified.
The maid, with her lithe skin and tightly bound hair, was waiting for his response. He quickly realized he had to act naturally. She took his silence as assent, placing a basin of warm water beside the bed. Her fingers deftly moved toward the fastenings of his clothes.
"I'll bathe myself today," Riley said, his tone firm but not unkind. The words surprised even him. He wasn't sure why he felt compelled to assert his independence in this moment. Maybe it was the knowledge of being caught in a time loop, or perhaps it was the growing unease of being in someone else's body.
The maid paused, her expression momentarily unreadable. "As you wish, sir," she replied, stepping back with a slight bow. But she didn't leave. Instead, she lingered, her eyes flickering with a hint of curiosity. Riley could sense she was waiting for something—an explanation, perhaps.
He was sure if it. She exited the room immediately in the first loop. Why was she still here now? It couldn't be that she remembered, right? If not, why was her behavior different from the previous loop. Then he figured he should get some information from her.
"How long have I been out?" Riley asked, breaking the silence.
"A month, sir. You've been resting since the incident." Her words were crisp, devoid of any emotional undertones, as though she were reciting from a well-rehearsed script.
"And who's been bathing me all this time?"
"I have, sir," she answered without hesitation, her eyes finally meeting his. There was no hint of embarrassment or discomfort in her gaze, only a deep-seated sense of duty. Riley thought back to the previous loop. The maid had knocked. It was as if she knew he was... Awake.
"But I have to ask—how did you know I was awake?" Riley pressed, leaning forward slightly, trying to gauge her reaction.
She hesitated, her fingers briefly fidgeting with the lace of her apron. "Master… you've been awake since last night," she began, choosing her words carefully. "You stirred while I was attending to you. You told me to come bathe you this morning because you were too weak to go to the bathroom."
Riley's lips curved into a faint smile. The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on him. Had the original Ryan awakened briefly in the night, only to relinquish control to him? Or was a lingering trace of Ryan's subconscious still in his body, trying to regain dominance? Either way, the implications were unsettling.
"You can leave," Riley said abruptly, his tone sharp but not offensive. He mimicked the imperial tone he'd often heard on TV shows—the kind that oozed command and privilege as he dismissed her. The maid bowed once more and exited quietly, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
As the door clicked shut, Riley lampooned.
Suddenly he felt a tremors in his soul, his body shook. Riley's eyes widened in urgency. The trial timer had started, and he was down to the last quarter of his time.
The longer one stayed in the Nexus Realm, the weaker the soul becomes.
Each Nexus trials is like a ticking time bomb, once the time was up. The Soul of the ascender facing the trial would explode. Leading to their death.
Riley was starting to feel his soul weaken, and he speculated that he had only few hours left.
This was his second loop, and already the differences were apparent. In the first loop, he had been too disoriented to explore his surroundings properly.
This time, he intended to be thorough. His memories drifted to the moment he'd found the book in the library, the one written by someone who seemed to understand the loop's nature. Klein, the author. Finding him was crucial.
But there were other matters to address first. He needed to deal with his fiancée, the princess. Then there was Case No. 0-87—a mystery that nagged at him like a splinter in his mind. And, of course, the Nexus Trial. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. There was no escaping the trial unless he broke the loop, and no breaking the loop without understanding all the pieces at play.
Riley stood and stretched, feeling the stiffness in his limbs. Walking to the wardrobe in the corner, he recalled how he'd overlooked it in the first loop. He scanned the room carefully this time, his eyes searching for any clue—anything that could give him an edge. When he opened the wardrobe, he froze.
Lying in the first drawer was a revolver, gleaming under the sun rays. He picked it up, feeling the cold weight in his hand. It was fully loaded, the bullets carefully placed with no concern for misfiring. The gun's silver surface shimmered with a rainbow-like sheen, almost too polished for such a grim purpose.
Beside the revolver was a packet of bullets, the seal already broken. The bullets themselves were different from those in the waking world—slightly thinner, but otherwise familiar. Each bullet gleamed with a golden sheen, catching the light as Riley inspected them. Beneath the packet was a small folded note. Riley unfolded it, his heart racing as he read the words scrawled in neat, precise handwriting. His eyes widened, and a rueful smile spread crossed his face.
**
"Bastard! Did you think attempting suicide and sleeping for a month would make me forget about you?" The shout cut through the air like a knife. Riley turned toward the source of the voice, his smile widening as he recognized the dark-haired boy from the first loop. The scape goat he had long awaited had arrived.
"I'm quite unforgettable," Riley replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. This time, he didn't turn and walk away like before. Instead, he felt a surge of vindictive satisfaction.
He wanted to test something—to see if his actions in this loop would have consequences in the next. With a calculated swiftness, he walked up to the boy and, before the latter could react, landed a solid punch to his jaw. The boy's eyes rolled back as he crumpled to the ground, out cold.
The sensation of striking someone was oddly therapeutic.
Riley's memories of being beheaded in the previous loop had left a lingering sense of dread, and this act of violence felt like reclaiming a fragment of control. He had specifically waited for this encounter, and it was worth it. Watching the boy's almost lifeless form on the ground, Riley couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of accomplishment.
"What did you do to our young master?" a group of attendants in gaudy green crop top screamed, rushing forward.
"You dare question me?" Riley's voice was laced with authority, and it had the desired effect. The attendants faltered, confusion and fear etched on their faces.
"Since you're so curious," Riley continued, "I gave him a gift so delightful he couldn't handle it. uh, Awake"
Of course, no one believed such a transparent lie, but Riley didn't care. The point was to establish dominance, and his casual dismissal of their concerns made it clear who held the power.
Seeing that none of them dared to challenge him further, Riley turned and left the scene. His next destination was the manor. There, he needed to confront his fiancée and find a way to buy more time. The loop was ticking, and every moment mattered.
He pushed open the manor's double doors, breathing in the fresh scent of grass and blooming flowers. The sunlight danced across the trimmed lawn, and for a brief moment, Riley found himself appreciating the beauty of it all. "It's a beautiful day to kick some asses," he muttered under his breath, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"It's a surprise to see you here, loner." The voice was laced with disdain, yet oddly familiar. Riley didn't bother to turn around. He knew who it was—Jasmine, the girl who had once cruelly told him, "You won't live long, but I'll attend your funeral." True to her word, she would have attended his funeral in the previous loop.
"Jasmine. It's so good to see you again," Riley said, his voice smooth and taunting.
Jasmine raised an eyebrow. "You seem… better. A month of sleep actually improved your mental health a bit."
Riley shrugged, brushing off her comment. He had more pressing matters on his mind.
Without another word, he walked past her, heading deeper into the manor. "Never keep a woman waiting," he mumbled, half to himself.
Jasmine's eyes narrowed as she watched him go. There was something off about him—something she couldn't quite place. She had heard those words before, spoken by the same person, in this exact spot. Déjà vu washed over her like a cold breeze, and a shiver ran down her spine.
Inside the manor, Riley moved with purpose. The lavish decoration no longer impressed him; he had already seen it crumble to ruins in the last loop. According to his calculations, the Bishop and Imam would arrive soon.
He needed more information about Case No. 0-87. The pieces were starting to come together, but he needed to understand the bigger picture.
"Hey, princess!" Riley called out as he entered a room. His fiancée looked up, startled. Her dark blonde hair was still damp. She hadn't had time to dry it properly.
"Ryan?" she gasped. "But the doctors said you'd be in a coma for at least two years."
"Aren't you happy I'm awake?" Riley asked.
She quickly shook her head. "No, it's not that I'm unhappy. I was just thinking…" She trailed off.
"I know. You're thinking of calling off our engagement, right?"
"Ryan… I know you're obsessed with me, but I don't feel the same. I know it was your mother's dying wish for us to marry, but I just can't, Ryan."
"It's ironic, isn't it? Arranged marriages don't always work out, do they? I already guessed this from the start. Just give me some time to think things over, please."
"Yes… yes, I would. Just don't take too long, okay?"
"But I have to ask—if you never wanted this engagement, why didn't you reject it outright from the beginning? And no, it's not because you were young, or that my mother pressured you."
Her eyes darted to the floor, searching for an answer she was reluctant to give.
Riley leaned forward, his voice serious. "Why don't you tell me the real reason for calling off this engagement? It's only fair, don't you think?"
She stiffened, and silence fell between them.
"It's only fair I tell you," she finally admitted. "Father ordered me to break off our engagement or he'd kill you, all for some unknown reason. After pressing him relentlessly, he finally gave in. He said you were involved in something dangerous—something called Case No. 87." She sighed, as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her chest.
"So, that's it," Riley muttered more to himself that to his fiancée. His thought was interrupted by a voice.
"Ryan Raven." the voice called out behind him. Riley turned to see the Bishop and the Imam approaching. They were walking side by side, deep frowns on their faces. His fiancée excused herself before they could notice her. Riley met their scrutinizing stares without flinching.
"You're here to discuss Case No. 0-87, aren't you?" Riley stated rather than asked, emphasizing the case number.
The religious leaders were visibly taken aback. They had been careful to keep the case's details vague when they first mentioned it, referring to it by a random name. They briefly wondered if Old Hector had betrayed them, but the old man's surprised expression at the bottom of the stairs suggested otherwise.
"Please, have a seat, esteemed guests," Riley gestured to the chairs opposite him, inviting them.
The religious leaders and Old Hector sat down, their faces marked by complicated expressions.
"Now, tell me all about Case No. 0-87," Riley demanded.
"And spare me the details about artifact classifications," he quickly added, maintaining his confident demeanor.
The trio gave him a look that seemed to scream "You know that too?"
The trio threw fugitive glances, silently communicating among themselves. After a while, the Imam spoke first.
"Case No. 0-87 is a short document, few pages only, and yet it contains a 'secret,'" he emphasized.