"Tell me… when did I even ask about your class or skills? Or were you… telling me you see the future? Or lived in it?"
The question hung in the air like a blade waiting to fall.
Junior's blood ran cold.
'He's getting closer to the truth.'
Each word from the lunatic's mouth peeled back another layer of Junior's defense.
Not through force. Not through threats. Through simple, terrifying observation.
The lunatic hadn't asked about his class or skills. Not yet.
But Junior wanted to know why the lunatic was so obsessed with class and skills, so he asked.
And in doing so, he had handed the lunatic the truth on a silver platter.
'I need to get out. Now.'
Junior's blind eyes darted toward the balcony. The faint breeze slipped through the cracked door, carrying the distant sounds of the academy.
If he fell from that height, he would die.
And if he died, he would regress. Turn back time. Escape this nightmare.
