Connie stared at her phone screen, her fingers stiff as they hovered over the message.
[Death Flag Resolved. Points: 3.]
The words were simple, but they sent a cold, prickling sensation crawling up her spine.
She swallowed hard.
This was some kind of prank, right? It had to be.
Some elaborate, carefully-timed joke.
A system message appearing out of nowhere? Telling her she had earned "points" for preventing… what, exactly? The train derailment?
No.
It wasn't just the message.
She had looped.
That was undeniable.
She had felt the impact of the train flipping. The sheer force of metal twisting, the weightlessness of being thrown into the air, the sharp pain that had cut off everything—
And then she had been right back in her seat as if nothing had happened.
Her hands clenched into fists.
This was impossible.
She needed to think.
Connie's breath was shaky as she glanced around the train. Everything was normal. The passengers were going about their routines, completely oblivious that they had almost died minutes ago.
The man in the gray suit was scrolling through his phone, completely unaware that he had—what? Triggered the derailment somehow?
She still didn't understand how it had happened. All she had done was stop him from dropping his phone the way he had the first time.
That tiny change had prevented an entire disaster.
Connie inhaled deeply, pressing her fingers to her temples.
Okay.
Let's say, for a moment, this was real.
Let's say she really had gone back in time.
What did that mean?
Was it something she could control? Was it a one-time thing? And who had sent her that message?
She didn't have answers.
And the unknown was terrifying.
She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to slow her heartbeat. She could figure this out later.
Right now, she just needed to go home.
The train continued its route without incident.
By the time Connie stepped off at her station, the night air had turned crisp, a soft breeze ruffling her cyan hair as she walked along the familiar route home. Streetlights lined the pavement, casting long shadows, the city alive with distant car horns and the occasional murmur of passersby.
She exhaled, watching her breath mist slightly in the cool air.
Her apartment was only a few blocks away. Normally, she enjoyed these quiet walks—there was something calming about the routine of it. But tonight, every sound, every movement, felt sharper, more intrusive.
Her own footsteps against the pavement sounded too loud.
Her phone felt heavy in her pocket.
She hadn't checked it again since that message.
A part of her didn't want to.
The moment she acknowledged it as real, she would have to accept everything that came with it.
And she wasn't ready for that.
Not yet.
Connie entered her apartment, locking the door behind her with a quiet click. She dropped her bag onto the floor, slipping out of her shoes before making her way to the kitchen.
Maybe some tea would help.
Something warm, something normal.
She filled the kettle, her mind still whirling. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe there was some logical explanation for all of this.
A hallucination? A dream so realistic that it felt like she had actually lived through it?
She reached for her phone, staring at the black screen for a long moment.
Slowly, she unlocked it.
The message was still there.
[Death Flag Resolved. Points: 3.]
Her throat felt dry.
No sender. No reply option.
She tapped the screen, trying to access details—nothing. No notification history, no indication that the message had even been received through a normal network.
As if it had appeared out of nowhere.
She shivered.
Okay. Fine. Let's assume this is real.
Then what?
What was a "death flag"?
She hesitated before opening her browser. Maybe it was some kind of obscure term.
A few seconds later, she had her answer.
"Death Flag: A storytelling trope in which a character's actions or circumstances foreshadow their impending death."
A cold sensation settled in her stomach.
So the train derailment had been a "death flag"?
And stopping it had… cleared it?
Connie rubbed her arms, suddenly feeling cold despite the warm air in her apartment.
This was starting to feel like something out of a novel. The kind of thing Ayaka would read about.
But this was not fiction.
It had happened to her.
She had looped. And if that was true…
Would it happen again?
A sharp knock at the door made her jump.
She spun around, heart slamming against her ribs.
For a moment, she hesitated. She wasn't expecting anyone.
Her apartment was in a quiet complex, and her neighbors weren't the type to randomly visit.
She moved toward the door cautiously, standing on her toes to glance through the peephole.
A man.
Middle-aged. Thin, wearing a dark hoodie. She couldn't see his face clearly, but something about the way he stood sent a chill up her spine.
Another knock. Harder this time.
Connie's breath caught.
"Who is it?" she called out, forcing her voice to stay steady.
Silence.
Her fingers hovered over the door handle. A strange, creeping sense of dread crawled up her spine.
She knew this feeling.
It was the same unease she had felt on the train right before the derailment.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
This was—
The doorknob rattled.
A sharp jolt ran through her body.
She staggered back, her pulse racing.
Whoever was on the other side was trying to get in.
This wasn't normal.
Panic surged through her veins as she reached for her phone, her fingers shaking as she fumbled to unlock it.
Another rattle.
Then—
The world blinked.
Connie gasped, her vision snapping into focus.
She was standing in her kitchen, the kettle still heating on the stove.
Her phone was in her hand, the screen black.
Her entire body was trembling.
She spun toward the door.
Silence. No knocking. No rattling doorknob.
It had reset.
Just like the train.
Her knees nearly gave out.
It wasn't just her death that triggered the loop.
It was whenever she was about to enter a situation where she couldn't fight back.
Connie's breath shuddered as she gripped the counter for support.
The man at her door—who was he? What had he wanted?
Would he come again?
And more importantly—
What would have happened if the loop hadn't triggered?
Her grip tightened around her pendant as realization dawned.
She had barely avoided something horrible.
And this time, there had been no message.
No points.
Because she had failed to resolve it.
A lump formed in her throat.
This wasn't a game.
This wasn't some convenient ability to avoid danger.
It was something much, much worse.
And she had no idea how deep it would go.