Sylvain traced his fingers along the hidden seams in the wooden wall. The air in the corridor felt colder now, heavier—like something ancient lay behind the surface. He glanced down at the small gaps, where time had worn away at the wood. Slowly, carefully, he slid his hands between the cracks, pressing and prying until the planks creaked and groaned. The barrier gave way with a subtle sigh, revealing the room hidden beyond.The space was dimly lit, filled with shadows stretching toward old shelves stacked high with countless files. The scent of paper, long untouched, filled the air—thick, musty, and layered with the weight of secrecy. Sylvain took a cautious step inside, his boots muffled against the thick rug beneath him. Dust danced in the soft beams of light slipping through a crack in the ceiling.His fingers trembled slightly as he reached out, flipping open the first folder. Each file seemed meticulously labeled, but there was a pattern—some pages were hastily torn out, corners frayed. These weren't ordinary records. These were files meant to be erased—discarded, forgotten, never meant to see the light of day.He sifted through them, one after another, until something caught his eye. A file, marked with a bright orange circle—unlike the others. The symbol stood out, bold and unyielding, a stark contrast to the plain, faded folders. Sylvain's breath hitched as he traced the circle with a finger. Orange. It couldn't be a coincidence. That symbol... those eyes. The glowing orange eyes he'd always wondered about—eyes that held secrets no one dared speak of.His pulse quickened, the weight in his chest tightening. He carefully opened the folder.And there it was. The truth.The file held pages upon pages of meticulously detailed notes—scientific formulas, calculations, and diagrams—all centred around one word: Tachyon. Sylvain's eyes widened as he skimmed through the text. It spoke of particles—tiny, almost imperceptible—capable of moving faster than light. A theory once dismissed as myth, yet here it was, laid bare in front of him. They had discovered it. They had used it.With these tachyon, they had created time loops—loops meant to turn back time, to save humanity from extinction. The meteorite, the disaster that loomed, was only one part of the grand plan. But more horrifying was the truth: these time loops weren't meant to stop after one iteration. No. This timeline he lived in? It was the seventh.The elites—those few at the top—had been manipulating time, repeating events over and over, each loop slightly altered, meticulously controlled. Humanity had been fooled. Everyone—his family, the servants, even those in the lowest districts—believed they were progressing, surviving, building something better. But it was all an illusion. A grand deception.And what made it worse was how the elites saw this situation as not just a way to save humanity, but as a perfect opportunity. Time loops provided them endless chances—endless control. With each iteration, they could reshape events to benefit themselves, to secure their dominance, to expand their influence. The meteorite might have been the catalyst, the threat they feared, but they used the loop to not only buy time but to solidify their control over every aspect of life—from politics to economics to society itself. They had turned it into a tool for manipulation, a way to bend reality to their will, all under the guise of "saving humanity."Sylvain's heart pounded in his chest as tears welled in his eyes. He couldn't believe it. His mother—her death—had happened in the original timeline. The first loop. This timeline, the one he was trapped in, was already the seventh attempt. No matter how many times they rewound, no matter how much they tried to "save" humanity, she was always gone. She was always lost.A surge of rage, sorrow, and hopelessness welled up inside him. He slammed the folder shut, his hands shaking. His vision blurred, and he bit down on his lip to stop himself from screaming.They had fooled everyone. They had kept this secret from the world. No one knew the truth—only the elite few who controlled everything.Sylvain's breath caught. He remembered those eyes again—the glowing orange that seemed to pierce through walls, through minds. Could it be... did those with the knowledge of this hold something to trigger the loops, something they hadn't fully lost? Was that why they never forgot?And then, his gaze landed on something beside the folder. A small vial—clear glass, half-full, filled with a liquid. A serum, carefully placed there, almost as though it had been waiting for someone to find it.Sylvain's heart skipped a beat. His fingers brushed against it, hesitating—his mind racing, trying to comprehend what he had just uncovered.The answers lay within this syrum. And they were waiting for him to take the next step.Sylvain's breath caught in his chest, heart pounding as the sound echoed through the dim room—the faint creak of metal, the scrape of something heavy descending into darkness.He froze, every nerve on edge, his mind racing to process what he had just heard. Someone was coming. Slowly, cautiously, he glanced around the room—files scattered across the floor, the hidden trapdoor now visible in the faint glow filtering through the cracks. This wasn't just an ordinary storage space—it was the real entrance to whatever dark secrets this place held. Sylvain's pulse quickened as he realized just how close he had come to being caught, he then went to his room without hesitation.He grabbed the file, clutching it tightly in one hand, his fingers trembling. The vial—the serum—was still in his other hand. The weight of the discovery bore down on him, yet his mind raced faster than ever. The copper-colored liquid... what was it? He inspected it carefully, the faint shimmer catching in the low light. The texture was strange—slick, metallic, but not just copper. Something more. A faint scent lingered—something familiar, yet distorted."Copper..." Sylvain muttered to himself, his mind working overtime. "Copper influences dopamine in the cerebellum and that can improve time perception and memory retaining, that explains the orange eyes... so they played with the neurotransmitter"It wasn't long before his sharp intellect pieced it together—his thoughts shifting like lightning. Copper, mixed with something else... something that triggered memories—something that sharpened perception. His eyes narrowed, as if the answer had been hiding in plain sight all along."It's not just about remembering. It's about seeing it—my life, the loops I've been through. Not re-living them, but knowing what happened in each one."The realization hit him like a blow to the chest. His eyes widened. "It's copper—it's what allows them to remember—''He clenched his fists, a surge of rage and frustration flooding through him. All the manipulation, all the lies... they hadn't just altered time—they had stolen something from the world. From him.He didn't care anymore. Let it burn. Let the world burn. Let the meteorite come, let it crash down—this world was better off crumbling than living endlessly under the chains of those damn houses, those damned elites."They think they can control fate? Let them. Let it all fall apart. The meteorite... it's more merciful than the endless loops, more merciful than their endless suffering. This... this is the only way to break free."His vision blurred, the rage building inside him like a storm—an inferno waiting to explode. He gripped the vial tighter, every fiber of his being shaking with defiance. Without hesitation, he drew the glass closer to his hand—his veins already beginning to thrum beneath his skin, reacting to the liquid within.He stabbed the needle into his palm—pain lancing through him as the copper-infused serum seeped into his bloodstream. His body jolted, a sharp rush of heat spreading through his veins, and for a split second, his eyes burned—orange—bright and glowing with an intense light.The visions came fast—too fast—snippets of his life flashing before him. The first loop, the constant cycles—memories from each loop, fragments of events repeating in his mind. It wasn't seeing the loops themselves, but the remnants of what had happened—enough to piece together how each iteration had unfolded.His mind strained under the weight, the memories rushing in all at once, colliding and blending together. He couldn't hold them all—his memory couldn't process everything in one go. His head throbbed—pain sharper than he'd ever felt—his body convulsing as he collapsed back onto his bed.Visions, fragments, and flashes—every loop, every loss, every event—blurred in his head. It was overwhelming. And just as quickly as the pain hit him, darkness swallowed him whole, dragging him into unconsciousness.