Knock. Knock. Knock.
Connie stood frozen in her kitchen, staring at the door.
She had already heard this exact sequence of knocks before.
She knew the next thing that would happen. The doorknob would rattle. The lock would click. The door would start to open.
And if she failed again, the loop would restart, trapping her in the same terrifying moment.
Her breath came out uneven as her pulse raced. This wasn't just some bizarre coincidence.
This was real.
Her mind reeled with possibilities, trying to make sense of it. What had triggered the reset? What were the rules of this phenomenon?
Her eyes darted around the apartment. Everything was the same. The kettle still whistled. Her phone was in her hand. The room temperature, the lighting—nothing had changed.
Only she remembered.
Her throat felt dry.
If the loop had restarted, that meant the intruder was still outside. Still coming for her.
Her hands tightened into fists. If she did nothing, everything would repeat.
But this time—this time, she had a chance to act first.
The doorknob rattled.
She moved.
Connie lunged for the door, heart hammering as she grabbed a heavy metal pan from the kitchen counter. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
The doorknob twisted—
She swung the pan hard against the wood.
*BANG*
The sudden, deafening impact reverberated through the whole apartment complex. Her hands vibrated painfully from the force of it, but she didn't let go.
Outside, the man stopped.
A long, suffocating silence followed.
Then—
Footsteps.
He was leaving.
Connie barely breathed, straining to hear. The footsteps faded down the hall, becoming more distant.
Her body remained tense, her muscles locked in place.
Was it… really over?
She waited. One second. Two. A full minute.
No more sounds. No more rattling doorknob.
Her grip on the pan loosened.
Her phone buzzed.
Connie's heart skipped a beat.
Her fingers trembled as she pulled out the device. A new message had arrived.
[Death Flag Resolved. Points: 8.]
Her breath caught.
She gained five points.
Higher than last time.
Was it because this one had been more dangerous? More difficult?
Her hands clenched around the phone as she stared at the glowing text.
She had done it.
She had broken the loop.
But the realization didn't bring relief—it only brought more questions.
Connie forced herself to sit down at the small kitchen table, trying to calm her racing thoughts.
She was still shaking.
She'd resolved two death flags now—the train derailment and the intruder.
And each time, she had been awarded points.
Her breath came out slow and uneven.
This wasn't just some random time-travel glitch.
There was a system. A mechanism behind it.
But she still knew almost nothing about it.
Her fingers hovered over her phone's screen. Could she reply to the message? Ask who—or what—was behind this?
She tapped the notification.
Nothing happened.
There was no sender. No reply option.
Her jaw clenched. Of course.
Whoever was running this didn't want her to ask questions.
They only wanted her to clear death flags.
A bitter laugh almost escaped her.
Like she was some kind of pawn in their game.
Her hand curled into a fist.
She didn't know what this system was, but one thing was clear—it wasn't on her side.
And if she wanted answers, she'd have to figure them out herself.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Connie's body jerked upright.
No. No, no, no—
Her breath came out ragged. Her mind screamed at her that it wasn't possible.
She had already resolved the flag.
The man was gone.
So why was there another knock?
A familiar voice called out.
"Connie? It's me."
Her pulse stilled.
Ayaka.
She staggered to her feet, still gripping the pan in one hand.
"Ayaka?" Her voice came out unsteady.
"Yeah. I was just passing by and saw your lights on. You okay?"
Connie hesitated.
The timing… was too perfect.
The loop had never lasted long enough for Ayaka to show up before.
So why now?
Her mind raced. Could her friend's sudden arrival be another consequence of breaking the loop?
Was this another death flag waiting to happen?
She didn't know.
And that terrified her.
Her fingers hovered over the lock.
Should she open the door?
Or should she stay silent?
Her stomach twisted.
She had to decide—fast.