I dashed forward with everything I had, my feet pounding the ground so hard I could feel heat rising from them. I didn't think about the why or the how—there was only one image in my mind: that strange man from the gang, raising a knife behind Clyde's back.
But suddenly, before I could reach him, Clyde moved in a way my eyes could barely follow. His body lowered slightly, then he twisted aside with unbelievable agility, spinning halfway as he lifted his leg and kicked the attacker square in the chest.
The sound of that impact was so sharp and heavy it almost stole the air from my lungs.
The problem was… I was right in front of him.
There was no way for him to redirect his movement, and before I even realized it, I was caught by a part of his kick's momentum.
I was thrown to the ground, dust clinging to my clothes as the air was knocked out of me all at once. I lifted my head slowly, breathing hard, my eyes staring at the scene in front of me.
The man who had held the knife was sprawled on the ground, and his companion looked like he'd been crushed.
I was stunned. I knew this scene. I had read it in the novel—word for word. The result was always the same: Clyde handled the situation effortlessly.
How had I forgotten? Why did I charge in without thinking, knowing the outcome was already decided?
Clyde didn't respond to the fallen man. Instead, he turned toward me. His eyes were sharp at first, like the edge of a blade—but only for a moment. Then they shifted into something calmer. Perhaps even… curious.
He spoke in a low but clear voice:
"You… look different in the mirror."
I froze, trying to understand. But he continued:
"Every time… you always came with that luxury car. But now… you came alone. Are you… different?"
His words made my heart race. Did he start to suspect something? Or was it simply curiosity?
I couldn't reply immediately, so I just brushed the dust off my clothes in silence.
The air was growing colder as evening approached. The streetlights flickered on one by one, and a few passersby observed us from a distance—unsure if what they were seeing was just a street fight or something far bigger.
The attacker tried to lunge at Clyde again, but this time Clyde didn't move with the same intensity. He seemed to be watching me more than his opponent—as if I was the one that mattered.
In that moment, I realized this scene was no longer following the original storyline.
That look in his eyes… it wasn't curiosity.
It was the look of a hunter weighing the decision to strike.
His gaze pinned me in place—made it hard to breathe—but strangely, I didn't feel the same fear as before.
His voice came cold and sharp:
"Should I kill you?"
I didn't know why, but my tongue moved faster than my mind.
"Then go ahead. But… what happens after that?"
Maybe I was testing him. Maybe I was testing myself.
But the moment I spoke, the air around us froze—like time halted. Clyde didn't move; he just stared into my eyes. It felt like a tug-of-war of willpower, neither of us willing to back down first.
I couldn't believe it. Wasn't I supposed to remember this moment after everything Clyde had done? How could I have forgotten?
Then, suddenly—
A massive explosion tore through the air.
The ground shook beneath us, dust and gravel flying everywhere. I raised my arm to shield my eyes as the scent of burning metal filled the air, heat brushing against my face.
When I finally opened my eyes, what I saw was a nightmare.
A gate—no, a tear in the air itself—rotating with deep blue light like a vortex devouring everything around it. And from within it, someone emerged.
His steps slow, heavy, confident—like he knew exactly where to walk.
He wore a long, dark coat, and a metal mask that hid his entire face, revealing only two glowing, blood-colored eyes. A tilted cloth hat rested on his head, making him look like a twisted performer from a demonic circus.
Before I could say anything, a glowing transparent window appeared in the air before us—just like the ones I used to read chapters of the novel from in my previous life.
And on that screen, written clearly:
· [Beginning of Scenario One]
At that moment, both Clyde and I spoke in unison:
· "What?! Impossible!"
And then I remembered—
In the 1101st regression, the catastrophe began earlier than the others.
I forgot! I got used to it always starting a month later—but this time, he returned late.
Today… is the cursed day.
The day of the catastrophe.
I knew every detail of this day in the novel. Every victim. Every step. Every death.
But now, I understood the terrifying truth—
Clyde's return timing was off.
And worst of all, I had ignored it completely.
The catastrophe… had already begun.
The screen displayed new text:
[First Mission]
Before I could process it, the masked man raised his head slightly. His voice deep and playful, dripping with amusement:
"The first mission… Ah, I do love this part."
His smile widened unnaturally beneath the mask:
"You must kill one monster. Just one. But…"
He paused—like he wanted to savor the moment.
"At least fifty percent of you must survive. The rest… well, their fate will be quite entertaining for me."
His laughter echoed—cold and unsettling.
Someone in the crowd, enraged, pulled out a gun and fired straight at him.
But the bullet stopped in midair—frozen.
The masked man's smile turned twisted—inhuman.
He pointed a single finger at the shooter.
Suddenly, the man's body ignited in dark red flames—from feet to head—as if he was being consumed from the inside out. His screams filled the air, echoing against the silence.
The masked man watched like it was nothing more than theater.
"Oh~ such a beautiful sound. Truly delightful."
Then he addressed us, voice sharp:
"Remember… those who fail the scenarios will burn like this. Isn't that lovely?"
Someone shouted, voice trembling:
"What do you mean the island? What bridge? We're in Seoul—aren't we?!"
The masked man leaned forward, like speaking to a clueless child.
"Seoul? Ah, how slow you all are… You are not in Seoul anymore."
"You are now in another world. A world parallel to your own—but far more entertaining for me."
Another voice cracked:
"Does that mean… we were brought here from our world?"
The mask smiled.
"Perhaps. But you will not return until all scenarios are complete."
Then he raised one finger.
"And maybe… after ten years… if any of you are even alive by then."