Cold.
It pressed in slowly, not sharp or biting, but heavy—like sinking deeper into water without ever touching the bottom. There was no sense of direction, no ground beneath him, just a quiet weight that made even the idea of moving feel distant.
Rishiro tried anyway. His body didn't respond. When he tried to breathe, his chest stayed still, as if the motion itself had been taken from him. For a few seconds, nothing changed, and the silence stretched long enough to feel endless.
Then a voice cut through it.
It didn't sound human. There was no warmth, no shift in tone—just something flat and mechanical, like it didn't belong in the same space as him.
[Unknown System Detected…]
[Irregular Event Confirmed.]
[Beginning Restart Sequence.]
Before he could react, light tore through the darkness.
Rishiro jerked upright, dragging in a breath so fast it burned. His chest rose sharply as air rushed back into his lungs, and his hand shot to his shirt on instinct. His fingers pressed hard against the fabric, as if expecting to feel something there.
But it was dry.
He stayed like that for a second, hand still on his chest, before slowly loosening his grip.
"…What?"
His breathing steadied little by little. He looked down again, pressing his palm against his chest more carefully this time, as if something might still be hidden beneath it.
"I'm… alive?"
The words came out uncertain.
He glanced around, taking in the room properly now. His apartment hadn't changed. The desk was still cluttered, the laptop still open, the faint glow from the screen cutting through the dim light. Nothing looked touched, nothing out of place.
Outside the window, the city lights stretched across the night, steady and familiar.
For a few seconds, he just sat there, listening. The low hum of electricity, distant traffic, everything continuing like nothing had happened.
His gaze drifted to the clock.
8:17 PM.
He didn't look away immediately. Something about it held his attention a little longer than it should have.
"…Wait."
The thought didn't fully form, but it stayed there.
He turned toward the laptop.
The email was still open.
[We regret to inform you that your manuscript has been rejected.]
Rishiro stared at the screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before lowering again.
"…Didn't I already see this?"
It didn't feel like a question.
More like repeating something he wasn't supposed to know.
Something shifted in his memory.
A street under dim lights. A figure standing still. He blinked, and the image slipped away before he could hold onto it.
Another one followed.
A book.
Black.
Worn edges.
Then a sharp pressure in his chest.
His hand moved there instantly, pressing down hard.
Nothing.
No pain. Just the memory of it, lingering in a way that didn't make sense.
"…What the hell?"
He pushed himself up too quickly, the chair scraping loudly behind him. The sound echoed in the room longer than it should have, making the silence that followed feel heavier.
"This has to be a dream," he muttered, though it didn't sound convincing even to himself.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the door. His hand didn't move right away.
"…Fine. I'll just go outside."
The night air met him the moment he stepped out, cool and steady against his skin. It felt real in a way the apartment suddenly didn't, grounding him just enough to think clearly.
He took a slow breath and let it out, eyes moving across the street. Cars passed in a steady rhythm, lights flickered from storefronts, and distant voices blended into a constant background noise.
Nothing looked out of place.
Rishiro started walking without thinking too much about it. He didn't have a destination. He just moved forward, letting the motion itself settle whatever was still off in his head.
His gaze drifted toward the corner ahead.
The grocery store.
The same place.
His steps slowed slightly as he approached, though he couldn't explain why. By the time he reached it, his attention was already fixed on the spot.
There was no one there.
No old woman.
No bags.
Nothing.
He stood still, looking around again, slower this time, as if something might appear if he gave it enough time.
"…Huh?"
The street stayed empty.
A quiet laugh slipped out before he could stop it, more out of relief than anything else.
"…Seriously?"
His hand moved to the back of his neck, rubbing it lightly.
"So it really was just a dream."
The tension in his shoulders eased a little. He let out a breath and stood there for a few seconds longer than necessary, letting himself settle back into something normal.
Then something caught his attention.
Not a sound. Not movement.
Just a thought that didn't feel like it belonged.
"…Wait."
He lifted his wrist.
8:21 PM.
His gaze stayed there.
That time.
It didn't feel new.
It felt remembered.
A faint tightness settled in his chest again, different from before. Not pain—just something that made it harder to ignore what was happening.
The street behind him felt quieter.
Then—
A voice spoke.
Right behind him.
Soft. Old. Familiar.
"Oh my. What a kind young man."
Rishiro didn't move right away. His body went still, breath catching for a second as the words settled in.
He knew that voice.
Slowly, he turned around.
And there she was.
Standing in the same place, just like before, with two grocery bags resting beside her feet. The old woman smiled gently, her expression calm and unchanged, as if nothing about this moment was strange.
As if this wasn't happening again.
Rishiro stared at her, trying to process what he was seeing.
"…What?"
She tilted her head slightly, the smile never leaving her face.
"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
He didn't answer.
Because for a moment, his thoughts didn't line up.
The same place.
The same time.
The same words.
Everything—
Was repeating.
End of Chapter 2