Ryan's eyes snapped open.
For a brief moment—
He didn't move.
Air filled his lungs.
Warm.
Dry.
Carrying the faint scent of printer paper and cheap office coffee.
The steady hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, constant and dull. Somewhere nearby, a printer whirred and coughed, spitting out another sheet of paper with mechanical indifference.
All things that he hadn't experienced for a hundred years.
Ryan's fingers twitched.
Slowly—
He lifted his head.
The desk in front of him came into focus.
Cluttered.
Dazed, he shuffled some papers around.
Buried beneath scattered folders, financial reports, and loose sheets covered in dense columns of numbers.
Ryan stared at his hands.
Open.
Close.
His fingers followed his commands.
His computer monitor glowed softly in the dim office light.
Accounting software.
Still open.
Still running.
Ryan stared at it.
His fingers trembled slightly.
"This…"
His voice barely formed.
A breath.
"…This can't be real."
Ryan's breathing slowed.
No.
This wasn't confusion.
It was recognition.
He had seen this exact moment before.
Lived it.
Suffered after it.
His eyes flicked toward the calendar again.
Two days.
Two days before the world ended.
He turned his head.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like the world might shatter if he moved too fast.
Gray walls.
Unchanged.
A crooked calendar hanging beside the filing cabinet, still stuck at the wrong angle.
The same cracked coffee mug sitting beside his keyboard—stained from years of neglect.
Seven years.
He had worked in this office for seven years.
Ryan shot to his feet.
The chair slammed into the wall behind him with a sharp crack.
His heart was already racing.
Too fast.
Too loud.
His legs moved before his thoughts could catch up.
The office door burst open.
The hallway stretched out before him—rows of cubicles filled with people hunched over keyboards, voices low, conversations mundane.
Someone laughed quietly.
Someone complained about a spreadsheet.
Someone sighed.
Normal.
Ordinary.
Alive.
Ryan's chest tightened.
His breathing grew heavier as his eyes moved—
Searching.
And then—
He saw it.
The office across the hall.
The door was open.
It had always been open.
Ryan crossed the distance in three long strides and pushed inside without knocking.
Behind the desk sat a woman.
Her workspace was immaculate—files stacked neatly, pens aligned with almost obsessive precision.
She looked up.
Dark brown eyes met his.
Her black hair was tucked neatly behind her ears, and soft afternoon light from the window framed her face.
"Alice…"
The name slipped from his lips.
Quiet.
Unsteady.
Like something fragile.
She blinked.
Concern surfaced instantly in her expression.
"Ryan?"
Her voice was gentle.
"What's wrong?"
Ryan didn't answer.
Couldn't.
He just stared.
Seven years.
A hundred years.
It blurred together.
Too long.
Have I really… come back?
His chest tightened—
Then loosened all at once.
Relief flooded through him.
That face.
Those eyes.
The one person he had searched for long after the world had already ended.
She was here.
Alive.
Real.
Something stirred in his chest.
Warm.
Unfamiliar.
Before he realized it—
He was smiling.
Not forced.
Not restrained.
A real smile.
Alice blinked again, clearly thrown off.
Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, forcing himself to step back from that moment.
"Don't worry about it," he said casually.
"I forgot what I came here for."
It was an old excuse.
One he had used countless times.
Alice studied him for a second longer than usual.
Then—
A small smile formed.
"You know…"
Her tone shifted slightly.
"You're starting to act like an old man."
Ryan huffed out a quiet laugh.
"You do realize you're insulting yourself with that, right?"
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing loosely.
"You're four years older than me."
The reaction was immediate.
Her smile vanished.
The ruler left her desk in a straight line toward his head.
Ryan ducked just in time as it cut through the air past his ear.
He laughed—genuinely this time—as he stepped back into the hallway.
"Violence in the workplace!" he called out.
"I'm reporting this!"
Alice grabbed another ruler, pointing it at him like a weapon.
"Get back to work, idiot!"
Ryan retreated, still laughing.
The moment he stepped back into his office—
The laughter stopped.
Like it had never been there.
His expression hardened.
Ryan sat down slowly.
His gaze shifted to the bottom corner of the monitor.
The date glowed quietly.
30 September 2036 — 1:31 PM
Ryan's eyes narrowed.
Exactly two days.
Two days before everything ended.
Two days before the world changed forever.
Two days before humanity realized—
It was no longer alone.
Forty-eight hours.
Less, now.
And every hour that passed—
Was one he couldn't afford to waste.
Every hour without progress could lead to the same outcome as last time.
"I don't have much time."
Ryan leaned back in his chair.
His mind was already moving.
Fast.
Weapons wouldn't help for long.
Ryan remembered the carnage that happened when the monsters they faced outgrew the weapons they had to use against them.
That had been one of humanity's first mistakes.
When the Awakening began, armies had mobilized instantly—tanks, missiles, aircraft.
None of it mattered.
Not when your own soldiers were turning against you.
Steel and gunpowder meant nothing against creatures born from raw mana.
But preparation still mattered.
Ryan had something no one else did.
Knowledge.
Experience.
One hundred years of it.
And—
Money.
Not much.
But enough.
Enough to make a difference.
A shadow fell across his desk.
Ryan looked up.
And instantly—
Ice flooded his veins.
Charl.
The smug bastard stood there, leaning slightly against the doorway, that same arrogant grin stretched across his face.
Too close.
Always too close.
Ryan's grip tightened around the pen in his hand.
"Your desk's as messy as ever," Charl said casually.
Ryan felt something dark twist in his chest.
"That's because I actually work," Ryan replied, his voice colder now.
"Unlike people who get paid to kiss ass."
Charl's smile faltered.
Just slightly.
He moved closer, leaning over the desk, his hands carelessly resting on important documents.
Ryan stayed seated.
But every muscle in his body tensed.
It took everything he had—
Not to move.
Not to stand.
Not to cross the distance and crush his skull into the desk.
Charl had only been transferred a few months ago.
Officially—Alice's assistant.
Unofficially—
Her stepfather's eyes.
And in the previous timeline…
The first monster Ryan had ever faced.
He remembered it.
Too clearly.
The day Charl awakened.
The power.
The way it twisted him.
The madness behind his eyes.
Ryan's grip tightened.
The memory came back—
Charl standing over him.
Alice screaming—
Blood—
Ryan couldn't move.
Couldn't stop it.
Couldn't—
Ryan forced the memory down.
Buried it.
Not now.
Not yet.
Forty-eight hours.
That was all it would take for everything to begin.
And this time—
He would be ready.
A slow smile spread across his face.
"By the way," Ryan said lightly, "how's Mr. Park doing?"
Charl froze.
"What?"
Ryan shrugged, leaning back slightly.
"I figured you might know."
His smile widened just enough.
"Since you send him updates about Alice."
Charl's eyes flashed.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He regained his composure after a moment.
"It seems you've forgotten about the last little lesson I taught you," he said softly.
Ryan didn't respond.
He just watched him.
Calm.
Unbothered.
Certain.
After a few seconds, Charl turned and walked away.
Ryan followed him with his gaze.
The smile never left his face.
Images flashed through his mind.
Charl screaming.
Begging.
Breaking.
He had imagined killing him thousands of times.
But now—
He didn't need to rush.
Charl's death was already decided.
And this time—
It would come before he ever got the chance.
Ryan stood.
Didn't shut down his computer.
Didn't look back.
There was nothing here worth holding onto.
He walked out.
There was work to do.
***
Ryan returned home late that night.
The apartment barely resembled the place he had left that morning.
Boxes filled the living room.
Stacked high.
Lined along the walls.
Canned food.
Water.
Medical supplies.
Fuel containers.
Everything he could afford.
Everything he could carry.
Everything that could decide the survival of someone past a week.
If they were so lucky to survive the first day.
His car outside was packed to the limit.
Ryan stepped into the room slowly, his gaze moving across everything.
Five years of savings.
Gone in a single day.
Worth it.
Because in forty-eight hours—
The world would change.
Humanity would call it:
The Awakening.
No one ever figured out why it happened.
One moment—
Normal.
The next—
Mana flooded the planet.
Invisible.
Everywhere.
Some people adapted.
They awakened.
Gained power.
Abilities.
Skills.
Others—
Didn't.
Their bodies twisted.
Warped.
Collapsed into something else.
Something no longer human.
Ryan closed his eyes briefly.
Exhaled.
Monsters weren't the real problem.
They never had been.
Ryan walked to the window.
Looked out into the night.
It hadn't been monsters that killed his parents.
It hadn't been monsters that destroyed everything.
And it certainly hadn't been monsters that killed Alice.
No.
Humans had done that.
Ryan's reflection stared back at him from the glass.
Hard.
Cold.
Focused.
"This time…"
His voice was quiet.
"I won't let it happen again."
A memory surfaced.
Uninvited.
Charl.
Blood.
Alice on the ground.
Ryan unable to move.
Unable to stop it.
His hand slowly clenched into a fist.
"And he…"
His eyes darkened.
"This time…"
A pause.
Quiet.
Cold.
"…he won't live long enough to touch her."