Rain still kissed the earth when Ren limped through the skeletal remains of Lesser Dane. Familiar alleys blurred past. Everything looked the same—but nothing felt right.
Even though the system had healed him, it took hours before he could move. His home stood at the end of the crooked street, just as he remembered it. Only…the wind chimes were wrong. The window had new curtains. And the scent—cinnamon, not burnt stew.
Ren's clothes, still bloodied and caked with mud from the fall, would have stood out anywhere. But this wasn't anywhere. This was Lesser Dane. Barely patched by the system, he staggered toward the door, hesitating before he pushed it open.
Creak.
Ren's fierce gaze met another's… but it wasn't Tohm's.
"Who the hell are you?" Ren demanded.
"Who the hell are you?" J. Cooper shot back, blinking as he tried to rise from a sofa that looked all too unfamiliar—setting every alarm bell in Ren's mind ringing.
Bam!
In an instant, Ren was on him, a rusted knife at Cooper's throat.
"Where is he?!" Ren yelled, grip tightening.
"Where is who? Who the hell are you talking about?" Cooper replied calmly, his prosthetic left hand barely pushing back against Ren's hold.
"Tohm. Where's Tohm?!" Ren pressed, the blade's cold edge grazing Cooper's skin.
Shatter.
A ceramic plate crashed to the floor as Cooper's wife appeared in the doorway, soup splattering at her feet. Both men froze.
"Cooper, what's going on?" she cried.
"Go back into the kitchen and call the police, darling," Cooper gasped, voice strained. "Take your phone and call them now."
"If you do that, I'll end up in a cell," Ren threatened. "But him…" He gestured at Cooper, "…he'll end up in a coffin."
The fight-or-flight instinct surged through him. In that moment, Ren didn't know if he was serious or bluffing. Part of him didn't want to find out.
Cooper didn't struggle. Ren realized the man had not budged—not for thirty seconds. No real danger emanated from him.
Then Ren's eyes settled on Laura, Cooper's soft-spoken wife. Cooper saw Ren's shift in focus and sighed.
"Listen, kid," Cooper said evenly, "if the person you're looking for is a golden-haired boy around your age, he's gone. Where? I don't know. He left minutes before we moved in. With that kind of money, he could be anywhere."
"Money? What money?" Ren pressed, unwilling to let go.
"The money he got from selling the house," Cooper's voice echoed through the room, making Laura flinch.
Ren's grip loosened as realization dawned. Cooper was in his early thirties—prime fighting age—yet he hadn't overpowered Ren. His hands moved slowly, and Ren's advantage was obvious.
A glance at the wall caught Ren's eye: a portrait of Cooper in military camouflage. A moment later, he saw the prosthetic left arm and leg. Cooper had lost them in the war.
Ren dropped the knife. Cooper rubbed his throat and the two stood in silence.
"Thank you for your service, Sergeant," Ren said quietly, then backed toward the door and disappeared into the night.
Ren bolted through the muddy streets, thoughts racing. Cooper could have called the police any moment. Lesser Dane wasn't safe if he wanted to stay free.
His vision clouded by intrusive thoughts, Ren stumbled down a slippery hill until he crashed into the trunk of a sturdy tree.
Whimper.
The pain was physical—and mental. Tohm had sold the house at least a week ago, the minimum time for ownership to transfer under Mavrosi law. Even as they'd pedaled through town, saving for Yelena's mural, Tohm had betrayed him.
But why? Ren whispered, fighting exhaustion. He didn't sleep until time ran out.
A violent prompt ripped him from unconsciousness the next morning:
[SYSTEM WARNING]
Mission Failure Detected.
Primary directive incomplete. Target Stevan Gorr remains unharmed.
[PUNISHMENT ACQUIRED]
Executing: Echo Loop: Protocol Grief 1.
Initiating loop cycle... 1 of 120.
Verdict: Subject will relive traumatic sequence: The Fall.
Duration: 1 hour.
And then—
Reality splintered and reassembled, hurling him back onto that cliff.
Rain slashed his cheeks like knives. Thunder cracked overhead.
Tohm looked down, eyes hollow.
Then—the blade again.
Again.
Again.
Each time Ren fell, he screamed louder—though no sound escaped his lips.
He crashed into stone, felt bones snap, tasted blood.
Then it rewound.
And again.
And again.
"You will remember how it felt to fall," the system whispered.
By the time the punishment ended, Ren wasn't crying. He was silent.
And somewhere inside… something had changed.