Shortly after Eryanis and I got back, I found myself under questioning. Eryanis, on the other hand, had officially been moved to my room — or containnt cell, as they like to call it — but I kept insisting on calling it just a “room” since the term sounded less threatening.
When we walked into the room, the first thing I noticed was that it felt more like a small office than a typical interrogation space. There were no windows, of course—we were in the basent—but the room was surprisingly well-lit, with soft light bouncing off the smooth walls.
I sat in a wooden chair across from a simple desk, resting my elbows lightly on the surface while casually swinging my feet. The rhythmic movent made an almost musical sound against the polished floor, a strange contrast to the silent tension in the room. On the other side of the desk, four people watched without saying a word, each wearing a distinct expression.
I felt the weight of their eyes on , but I remained calm and summarized everything that had happened after Eryanis and I crossed the containnt cell’s threshold. At first, I was torn about whether or not to tell them what I had witnessed inside — each situation where I saw everyone dead in different ways, and especially the encounter with my other self.
Every ti I thought about it, a question poked at my mind like a fine needle: was this really sothing I should share with the others? In the end, I chose to reveal only the parts about the deaths — disturbing as they were — but deliberately left out the fact that I had encountered another version of myself on the other side.
Why did I decide to hide that? Honestly, I’m not even sure. It was more of an impulse than a rational choice — I just felt, deep down, that it was better that way. In any case, I set my thoughts aside and, once I finished my explanation, turned my attention to the four in front of .
I studied each expression in silence, trying to decipher what was going on in their minds. The room felt heavy, almost dense, and the silence stretched on for long minutes until Emily finally broke it with a few words.
“This is...” Emily left the sentence hanging, her lips slightly parted as if she were still carefully choosing what to say next. Finally, she let out a brief sigh and finished: “A lot to take in all at once”
I can’t say Emily’s words surprised . Honestly, if soone told they’d seen — in a dream, or sothing like it — multiple versions of dying in different ways, I’d probably react similarly. Of course, only inside, since showing any expression on my face is nearly impossible for . Smiling or displaying emotion is reserved for extrely rare monts.
Next, it was Laura’s turn to speak. She gave a slight nod at Emily’s words and, in a calm tone, said: “When we first heard about this, honestly, we didn’t even know what that anomaly actually did... at least, not until a few monts ago”
As she spoke, she brought her hand to her chin, adopting a thoughtful posture, as if trying to piece together an invisible puzzle in the air.
“But what exactly do these visions represent?” she continued, furrowing her brow slightly: “The future? No... that seems impossible. Those situations are monts we’ve already lived, and yet...” She paused, searching for the right words: “... they’re different, distorted, as if soone had rewritten what really happened”
Everyone seed lost in their own thoughts, each trying to interpret what my visions might an. ? Honestly, I don’t think they an anything — at least, not yet. Instead of wasting ti imagining what could have happened or looking for so hidden aning, I prefer to focus on sothing more useful: thinking of ways to prevent those situations from happening in the future.
Victor, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke — and, to be honest, his words were surprisingly unsettling in a way: “From my point of view” he said, scratching his chin as if weighing each word carefully: “this sounds more like visions of another reality, you know? Like we’re watching sothing that happened in a world identical to ours, but... not exactly ours”
After Victor spoke, all eyes in the room turned to him. He, however, remained unfazed — his calm expression unshakable, as if completely at ease under the collective gaze. With a slight, almost indifferent shrug, he added casually: “Anyway, that’s just what I think”
Realistically speaking, could Victor’s idea... actually be right? I an, I was there, I saw everything with my own eyes. And thinking about it now, what he said sounds eerily close to what I felt in that place.
It was like sothing familiar, yet completely alien — as if the entire environnt was trying to trick , making believe I belonged there when I actually didn’t.
Maybe this sense of dissonance ca from the fact that that dinsion was too similar to mine, to the point of confusing my senses and intuition. It’s just a possibility... but one I can’t get out of my head.
Yet, there was still sothing inexplicable—a nagging feeling that told this wasn’t the whole truth. I an, I had “seen” myself in that other dinsion—and that alone should’ve been impossible. As far as I know, two versions of the sa virtue can’t exist simultaneously. We’re unique, singular, and that uniqueness should extend even across other dinsions.
So, who—or what—was that other “” I saw? Strange as it sounds, I felt like he wasn’t a separate version of , but... , as if we were one being in two places at once. But that idea is absurd, with no logical foundation, and yet I couldn’t shake it from my mind.
“No... on second thought, maybe you’re right” Emily’s voice pulled from my thoughts—soft, yet thoughtful. She crossed her arms before continuing: “There are countless docunted anomalies with reality-altering abilities—so on a scale so catastrophic they’ve changed entire cities, others so subtle they’d barely register as strange coincidences. And then there are those so harmless, their powers hardly seem relevant”
“So... that ans we die in multiple realities?” Rupert’s voice trembled, frustration etched across his face as if he were trying to digest the concept. He let out a heavy sigh before continuing: “I always knew I’d die soday—I accepted this job knowing that—but hearing, step by step, each way I died in other realities... it’s weird”
“You know... I just realized sothing” Laura said after Rupert, her tone thoughtful: “In all these different situations we’ve faced, I noticed a strange pattern. The cause of death—though it varied in place and thod—always seed the sa: it only happened because the [Angel of Death] wasn’t around”
Laura’s words fell into the room like a stone into a pond, silencing everything around us. I felt their gazes settle on , weighing down my shoulders as if expecting an imdiate response. But the truth was, I didn’t know what to say. The way Laura put it made it seem like I was protecting them purely by choice, as if it were so heroic decision on my part.
Well... though that’s partly true, it’s not exactly how things are. Of course I’ll protect them if I’m around—it would be impossible to ignore them—but if I weren’t there? What could I do? It’s like fate, or so invisible force, insists on aligning every situation so that I always end up by their side at the right mont.
A clear example was when I found Victor and Laura in that forest. I helped them, sure—but what if I’d arrived a minute later? And if, just for a mont, I’d hesitated before extending my hand? Would the outco have been the sa?
Would they even still be here, alive, breathing beside ? Those thoughts haunt , like this whole situation is pushing along a predetermined path—a destiny where mistakes simply have no room to exist.
But it’s not the sa as being controlled. From my perspective, it’s more like following an invisible path, drawn sowhere between the real and the imagined—a path that, for so reason, only I can see: (...Seriously, what the hell am I even saying?)
As I lost myself in thought, a delicate sound echoed through the room, like the faint tinkle of a crystal bell. Instinctively, I raised my eyes, searching for the source. Emily, Laura, and Rupert, however, didn’t react at all—it was as if nothing had happened. Then, following the sound with my eyes, I found Victor. His expression was serious, one finger pressed lightly against his ear.
At the sa ti, when I focused my hearing, the ambient hum seed to fade, like soone had turned down the world’s volu around . The words coming through the communicator beca startlingly clear, charged with a strange urgency: “Mr. Victor Hale?”
Victor responded imdiately, his voice brimming with a near-provocative confidence. By this point, all eyes were already on him, waiting for the continuation: “Himself” He tilted his head slightly, a half-smile forming on his lips: “Is there a problem?”
The others, as far as I could tell, hadn’t heard what I just did—their expressions were rely confused. Victor’s face, on the other hand, was tense with disbelief, sothing rarely seen in him. In fact, I don’t think I’d ever seen him so concerned, which only made my stomach churn even more.
The voice on the line was firm and direct: “We’re reaching out to inform you that the patient under your care showed changes in their charts yesterday... her condition has worsened significantly”
I was confused by the words I heard. Patient? What patient? Was soone sick? My instinct scread at to ask, but I swallowed my curiosity and stayed silent, my eyes fixed in the direction the voice had co from.
At the sa ti, the voice from the other side continued, calm yet carrying a strange weight: “We thought it best to warn you in advance... if things keep going like this, we’re afraid she won’t make it to next month”
Victor abruptly ended the communication, his expression now serious, marked by almost palpable concern—there was tension in his eyes, a slight tremor in his voice as he said: “Sorry, everyone. I have to go. Sara’s condition... seems to have worsened”
Honestly... who was Sara? It was the first ti I’d ever heard that na. Co to think of it, apart from knowing everyone in the organization by face, I really don’t know much about them. It’s like they’re all shadows passing by, leaving only fragnts of who they truly are.
Victor’s words, however, kept echoing in my mind. One inevitable question arose: why did he accept this job in the first place? No matter how I looked at it, it didn’t seem to be for money. There was sothing else there, sothing he never said.
Also, just before leaving, Victor shot a glance in my direction—and for so reason, it sent a chill down my spine. It wasn’t the usual calculated gaze he often had. There was sothing different, sothing heavy. It seed like... anger? But not just that.
There was also a strange spark of hope in his eyes, as if he were waiting for so reaction from , expecting to do sothing he couldn’t say out loud.
The instant he left, the silence that followed was suffocating, almost oppressive. I looked around for answers, but no one seed willing to speak about what had just happened—and the feeling of being in the dark only intensified.
In the end, without knowing the circumstances that led him here, all I could do was watch him in silence. Victor hurried out the door, and the way he held his shoulders—stiff, almost tense—only increased the sense that sothing unbearably heavy weighed on him.
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