Was there even a point in attempting to get any sleep?

  My tired eyes drifted from the ceiling to the thin wisp of light seeping through the dark green curtains. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but the sky had evidently already begun to pale, despite being shrouded in thunderclouds.

  Meanwhile, Apophis appeared fast asleep, nestled inside a gilded skull that I was certain had once belonged to an actual human. His sleek black body coiled lazily through one of the eye sockets and out past the toothy grin.

  How does he find that skull in any way comfortable? There are plenty of cushions around. Too many, really.

  My eyes swept over the unfamiliar suite I inhabited. On the opposite side was a massive white fireplace that was purely for aesthetics—its pristine surface untouched by soot or flame. Plush white armchairs surrounded it, accompanied by deep green floor cushions that added a touch of contrast. Separating the sitting area from the bed was a delicate curtain of gold chains hanging from the ceiling, shimmering faintly in the dim light.

  This room was one of the guest rooms of the mansion we now resided in temporarily. And, in part, due to the new and unfamiliar environment, I was unable to sleep.

  I rubbed my aching eyes, no doubt bloodshot.

  I would have injected myself with one of Kathy’s specialty sleep-aid needles—part of the batch that I had Jarvis request of her at the ball. But, of course, my newly acquired, entirely untested batch had gone up in flames along with everything else in that damn fire. I had forgotten to request Remlend to take them with him when he came to pick me up from the desert. And, exceptional attendant though he was, he couldn’t quite read my mind.

  I took a deep breath in and exhaled.

  I couldn’t complain. Not really.

  Far worse things had been lost in that fire. People died.

  Besides, I was certain Kathy had made spares. Apart from the fun color spectrum I had made great use of in Round 7, the needles I had her develop in the prior Round had taken significant time and effort. There was no way she hadn’t been intrigued enough by the process to refine it for quicker production in the future in this Round. She was one of the few people outside the Frey household that I had supplied with one of the notebooks.

  I’ll just request that she whip up a new batch.

  Aside from the sleeping-aid needle, I desperately needed the rest—the improved purple needle in particular. Sure, there were many ways to kill oneself, but most were far from pleasant. Something swift and painless was preferred.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Young master Luca?” Remlend’s voice came through.

  A shiver ran up my spine because I had just been thinking about him.

  …Or can he read my mind after all?

  My eyes flicked to Apophis’s glowing purple ones. Either he had awakened or was never actually asleep in the first place. The snake met my gaze for a moment before lazily closing them again, appearing to drift back into a deep slumber.

  I cleared my throat and responded. “You can enter.”

  Sitting up in my bed of silken sheets, a yawn escaped my mouth.

  Ah, damn it. Now that it’s time to get up, my body decides it wishes to lie down after all.

  Remlend stepped inside my room, his movements as precise as ever as he walked over to my bedside. He placed a ceramic cup and saucer into my hands.

  “I’ve brought you some strong black tea,” he said.

  I smiled, inhaling the rich aroma. Beneath the sharp scent of tea, there were hints of chocolate and vanilla.

  “How did you know I wasn’t able to fall asleep?” I asked.

  “I’m your primary attendant—it’s my job to know such matters,” he replied simply in his monotone voice.

  “Is that so?” I lifted the cup and took a sip.

  He appeared entirely unaffected by the events of last night, with his usual unassuming air. However, I didn’t put it past the Wallflower Curse of diluting his true feelings. He was currently doing the work of three people, afterall.

  With Jasper tagging along Chase on a bit of secret and dangerous business, and Denise no longer serving me….

  I frowned, gazing down into the dark liquid.

  “Was there any further word on other survivors?” I asked.

  “No, I’m afraid not,” Remlend replied.

  “I see.”

  Damn it.

  I had stayed up late listening to the accounts of newly found staff members who were still alive. Of course, those stranded within the fire didn’t survive—the only ones that did were those that were protected by Fin’s shield. The remaining survivors were away from the manor for one reason or another. There was a guard who was attending to his child’s birth. A maid who had gone out for a date. In total, the lucky few that happened to be away were six.

  I had hoped there would be more.

  Even in the case of Sarka Jarbez and Leo, only the boy survived. He was found and brought to the mansion two hours past midnight. Unfortunately, the portal was still far too small for a full-grown adult to fit through. It was lucky that he managed to survive.

  I stood up from my bed and walked over to the window. The sound of faraway thunder was unmistakable on the other side. Remlend swiftly drew open the curtains before I could lift a finger.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled.

  The window provided a view of my home—now mere ash and charcoal—with a backdrop of dark and gloomy skies.

  My eyes drifted to the large balcony to my right. A small figure of a boy was leaning against the balcony’s railing, his head atop his arms. He appeared to be gazing toward the Frey Manor. A blanket had at some point been placed atop him, but it had slid to the ground now, lying in a pile near his feet. Luckily, the faraway downpour of rain had yet to reach him.

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  “How long has Fin been out there?” I inquired, turning to Remlend.

  “At least an hour,” Remlend replied. “Though quite possibly longer—I overheard two of the royal guards discussing him.”

  I frowned and downed the remaining dark liquid.

  “Can you fetch me a robe?” I asked.

  ***

  Wrapped in a fluffy seafoam green robe embroidered with gold detailing and wearing a pair of slippers, I stepped onto the balcony attached to the small ballroom. The cool morning air rushed against my face, crisp and wet. The lingering scent of smoke dissipated with the falling rain. It sent a slight shiver down my spine, chasing away the last remnants of sleep. Apophis was not with me for once—I left him behind in my bedroom.

  I moved toward the edge of the balcony, a couple of feet away from Fin.

  If he had noticed my presence, Fin didn’t even twitch. His hazel eyes, framed by long lashes, remained fixed on the distant wreckage of Frey Manor. His body was utterly still as if carved from stone.

  I followed his gaze. Tiny wisps of smoke still curled lazily from the ruins, ghostly tendrils rising into the twilight morning sky. The fire hadn’t been fully extinguished even after all these hours—a silent testament to Ra Sol’s sheer destructive power.

  But my gaze drifted back to Fin.

  It was also a testament to his own strength. He had withstood Ra Sol’s inferno, holding a barrier against that monstrous blaze for hours on end. Without him, my family wouldn’t have made it out alive.

  “Fin,” I said softly, my voice carrying over the quiet dawn. “Thank you for saving my family.”

  Fin didn’t reply, but his long eyelashes flickered.

  I had thanked him when he had first emerged from the rubble, but he was so exhausted at the time, having overextended himself, that I wasn’t sure if he even heard me then.

  “Had you not been there, my family wouldn’t have survived,” I repeated, firmer this time.

  Fin buried his face into his folded arms. His shoulders trembled slightly.

  “If I had studied harder…” His voice was barely above a whisper. “If I had studied your notes more carefully, I could have created a bigger barrier.”

  His voice then cracked.

  “If I had just studied harder… I could have saved my sister.”

  I inhaled deeply, letting the crisp breeze fill my lungs before exhaling in a slow sigh.

  I had expected as much. Fin was beating himself up for not having been able to do more. Denise was one of the individuals that perished in the fire.

  Had this been my original life, I might have consoled him differently. But in this timeline, I wasn’t his friend. At most, I was his savior and benefactor. At least, a complete stranger. That left me with little choice but to keep my distance.

  “Fin, you began training as a mage barely a week ago. What you accomplished is already extraordinary,” I told him.

  He had far surpassed my highest expectations of him. He hadn’t even undergone the brutal mana core expansion under the Spider Syndicate, yet here he was, not merely a budding mage, but one who had held his ground against one of the ten most powerful mages across both continents.

  What more would he be capable of in a few years?

  Of course, his rapid trajectory in this Round was driven by extreme circumstances—ones I hoped to prevent in any future Rounds—but still, his progress was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

  “I could have saved her,” Fin muttered, his voice raw and uneven.

  I sighed again.

  I didn’t doubt his potential, but saving Denise with only a few days of training? That was impossible. He would have needed a barrier far larger than the one he managed—one encompassing not just the dining room, but possibly the entire manor, depending on where she had been when the fire struck.

  Perhaps if he were an Awakened and retained memories from previous Rounds… but he wasn’t. He was a fourteen-year-old boy who, until just a few days ago, wasn’t even aware of his potential as a mage.

  But none of that mattered in his mind.

  He knew now what he was capable of—what he had accomplished in mere days—and that knowledge was eating him alive. Guilt gnawed at him, dragging him into a pool of self-blame too deep to escape.

  As understandable as his grief and guilt were, ultimately, it was unhelpful and unproductive. It couldn’t bring Denise back.

  A thought struck me.

  What if it could? Or, rather, at the very least, help provide the fuel needed to prevent a similar disaster in the future?

  I had an idea.

  One that wasn’t entirely ethical. One that preyed on grief and hope. But for the Fin of future Rounds, it would be worth it.

  “You know,” I said, breaking the silence, “cockroaches are pretty incredible.”

  Fin stirred, lifting his head just enough to shoot me a look of utter bewilderment. “What…? Cockroaches?”

  I understood his bafflement. And that was part of my intention. Knowing Fin, I needed to drag him out of his downward spiral. A sharp jolt of absurdity would suffice.

  “Yes. See that rubble?” I gestured toward the wreckage of Frey Manor, where wisps of smoke still curled into the sky. “I can guarantee you that there are cockroaches that survived that inferno.”

  At the very least, I knew that to be the case with the inferno that Harley Whitmore had produced in my original life.

  “In a way, I’m a cockroach myself,” I added.

  “I…. don’t understand,” Fin spoke blankly.

  I smiled at the confusion evident on his face.

  He certainly needed time to grieve, but I couldn’t let him simply drown in it as he was doing now. Knowing Fin—at least the version I was familiar with—if I let him be, he’d remain stuck in a whirlwind of self-hatred for at least a month’s time.

  Breaking up his time of sorrow with confusion sufficed.

  There was a reason funeral rites existed—to give people structured time to mourn, to force them through the motions until they could accept the loss. However, given the horrific and abrupt nature of Denise’s death, the rituals that should have proceeded were already being distorted and delayed.

  Moreover, there was something he could do, at least for the betterment of future Rounds.

  I took a step closer, closing the space between us until only inches remained.

  “I’ll let you in on a secret that only Micah knows.” I leaned in and whispered, “I can turn back time.”

  Fin’s face distorted through several emotions: hope, confusion, awe, anger and disbelief. Not in any particular order, jumping back and forth between them in quick succession.

  But in the end, him being Fin, he settled somewhere between wary hope and quiet distrust.

  “What do you mean by that?” His voice was guarded. “If you could turn back time… why haven’t you already?”

  My conscience tugged at me, knowing that what I had said wasn’t entirely true. Not in the way that Fin wished it to be.

  However, it would benefit Fin and others in future Rounds. And give him something meaningful to do in this Round.

  “That notebook—have you ever wondered how I knew exactly what training advice to give you?” I asked, planting the first seed.

  Fin stiffened.

  “Or why you were able to summon such powerful innate magic when you’d only just started?” The second seed.

  “And how Ridley knew precisely where you were and was able to retrieve you without running into any trouble?” A third seed.

  Fin’s eyes widened.

  Understanding was dawning, slowly but surely. More than that—hope. A profoundly human, desperate need to believe in the impossible.

  “You can turn back time?” he murmured. “Then… you can save my sister?”

  I nodded.

  “Yes,” I said, “but I can’t do it alone.”

  Fin didn’t hesitate. “What do you need?”

  “Your notebook,” I said.

  “Yes—yes, I have it!” He fumbled to pull it out.

  “Write down exactly how you produced that protective shield,” I instructed. “Every step. Every detail. I’ll pass it on to your past self.”

  I had to capture this lightning in a bottle.

  Impossible circumstances had fueled Fin’s overwhelming growth in this Round. Repeating that exact trajectory without an inferno, without countless deaths, was unlikely.

  But perhaps—just perhaps—he could reach those same heights without needing to walk through literal fire.

  “You’re serious.”

  A voice, slightly accented, came from behind me.

  Damn it. I was careless.

  Judging by the way Fin stiffened, he hadn’t realized we weren’t alone either.

  I turned, already knowing who I’d see.

  Leo Jarbez.

  Golden-eyed, sharp, and far too perceptive for someone who had yet to Awaken.

  Now that I was looking at him, I understood why I’d missed his presence. He was sitting on the ground, half-hidden behind a patio sofa, his torso angled just enough now to be visible. This balcony was proving to be a rather popular spot for grieving children.

  It was either extremely lucky or unlucky that Leo, of all people, overheard me.

  “Ever since you gave my mother and me these notebooks, I wondered how you managed to provide such precise detail,” he said. His voice was even, but there was something weighty beneath it. “But if you can turn back time… it makes sense.”

  Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, movements stiff. He had clearly been sitting out here for a long time.

  His golden eyes met mine. “But if you can turn back time… I assume we won’t remember any of this, will we?”

  I pressed my lips together, unsure how to respond.

  After all, there might come a time when Leo Jarbez would be able to remember the loops. And perhaps it was even the next Round.

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