The rain poured mercilessly, its chill biting into her skin as she lay on the muddy ground, clutching her side where blood seeped from the gash. Her vision blurred, but through the haze, she saw him—his dark figure towering over her, the barrel of the gun gleaming under the stormy sky.
"Did you really think," he said, his voice calm, almost mocking, "that you could change me? That I would somehow become... good?"
His smirk was as sharp as the blade he once wielded against his enemies. Her heart clenched. This wasn't the man she thought she knew, yet... it was him. The one who had held her hand through her darkest moments. The one who whispered dreams of a shared future.
"I loved you," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I still do."
"Love," he repeated, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "I don't deserve it. I never did. You were just a pawn in my game, a distraction. But somewhere along the way..." His voice faltered, his grip on the gun tightening. "I started to care. Against my better judgment, against everything I've ever stood for, you made me care."
Tears mingled with the rain streaming down her face as she shook her head, trying to crawl toward him. "Then stop this. We can—"
"Stop." His voice cracked, and for the first time, she saw the torment in his eyes. The mask of the cold, calculating villain slipped away, revealing the broken man beneath. "This world isn't big enough for both of us, not like this. If I live, you'll never be free. You'll always be trapped in my shadow. So this is where it ends."
"No!" she cried out, her voice breaking as he raised the gun—not at her, but at himself.
"Forget me," he murmured, a faint, sad smile tugging at his lips. "Live a life I can't give you."
Before she could scream, before she could reach him, the sound of the gunshot tore through the storm. He collapsed to his knees, his hand falling limply to his side, the weapon clattering to the ground. His dark eyes locked on hers, softening with the last embers of his strength.
"I was never meant to be your happy ending," he whispered, his voice fading. "But... I wish I could've been." As he coughed up blood and muster the last of his strength to get his words across
"No!" she screamed, scrambling to his side, clutching his lifeless body as her sobs shook her frame. "Don't leave me! You said you cared! You don't get to leave me like this!"
Her tears mixed with the rain, her wails echoing into the night. She clung to him, her fingers trembling as they brushed his face. "I don't care about the world! I don't care about anything else! I just want you! Why couldn't you stay? Why couldn't we figure it out together?"
But no answer came. Only the deafening silence of the storm remained, leaving her to mourn the man who had become her everything—and now was lost to her forever.
The world was quiet and dark, a stillness that felt more infinite than death. She wasn't sure how long she'd been floating in the void—seconds, hours, days? It didn't matter. All she remembered was the sound of the gunshot and the sight of him falling.
Her heart still ached, even here in the nothingness. She had failed. She couldn't save him from himself, and now neither of them could rewrite the ending.
Then, a voice broke through the silence.
"Subject 821: Fatal conclusion registered. Initiating Do-Over System."
She blinked—or at least she thought she did. Her body felt intangible, as though she were only a thought drifting in space.
"W-who's there?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"I am the Do-Over System, a corrective mechanism programmed to alter the course of doomed timelines. You, Subject 821, have been selected to relive key moments to prevent catastrophic outcomes."
"What are you talking about?" Her hands—or what she assumed were her hands—moved wildly in confusion. "Catastrophic? You mean his death? Why me? I didn't even understand what was happening half the time!"
"Precisely. Your skepticism and observational tendencies make you uniquely qualified for this role. You may relive the timeline with retained memories to influence events. Objective: Prevent Subject 274 from harming himself or others."
Her breath—or the idea of it—hitched. "You're asking me to save him? He didn't even listen to me when I tried the first time!"
"Alternative: Do nothing. Probability of identical outcomes: 92.7%."
Her stomach churned at the thought of reliving those final moments—the blood, the anguish, the sound of her thunder. His lifeless body in her arms. She closed her eyes, or what she thought were her eyes, shaking her head. "Fine. I'll do it. But don't expect me to be a miracle worker."
"Consent registered. Beginning timeline reset."
"Wait! What happens if I screw up again?"
"The cycle will restart. Your skepticism and adaptability will aid in optimizing results."
"Yeah, well, my skepticism hasn't exactly been great for keeping people alive, has it?" she muttered.
Before the system could respond, the void gave way to a blinding light, and she felt herself pulled back into a world she thought she'd never see again.
---
The Moment She Was Pulled Back
The world spun violently, like the pieces of a shattered mirror falling in slow motion, each fragment piercing her mind. She had no control, no anchor to reality. It felt as if the very fabric of time was being torn apart around her. One moment, she was facing the aftermath of failure—the weight of losing Lucian, the loss that still clawed at her chest—and the next, she was falling through an endless, shifting void.
Her body felt weightless, like she was suspended in midair. But the nauseating dizziness was real. Her stomach churned with the sensation of falling, her head throbbing, as if her very existence was being unraveled and rewoven into something she didn't understand.
And then—everything stopped.
Suddenly, she was no longer falling. The world snapped back into focus, disorienting in its clarity. Her legs buckled beneath her as she collapsed to the cold cobblestones, her head spinning violently. The sharp scent of rain mingled with the earthy aroma of freshly turned soil.
"A-aeliana!"
....