༺ Someone Wake Me Up (1) ༻

---

The train whistle screamed.

Haa…

I exhaled, my breath shaky, my body drenched in cold sweat.

Again.

Again.

Again.

My body trembled, my hands gripping the wooden seat beneath me.

I could still feel it—the searing pain, the overwhelming despair.

I had died.

I had died again.

My throat felt dry, my lungs ached as if they had been crushed, and my vision blurred as the dim lantern lights of the train carriage swayed.

I slowly raised my hand, staring at my own fingers.

My hands were trembling.

What's the fucking point?

I let out a bitter chuckle.

"Who the fuck do I think I am? A hero?"

I spat on the floor, bile rising in my throat.

"I'm no fucking hero."

I ran a hand through my hair, gripping it tight.

My reflection on the train window looked like a wreck—a gaunt, pale face with tired, bloodshot eyes.

"Fuck this."

I slammed my fist against the wall, my breathing uneven.

The train whistled again, louder this time.

I lifted my head. Outside, the scenery was shifting, moving too fast for my mind to grasp.

Two choices.

Go back to the Saint Grenn household.

Or—

Stay on this train and head to the Southern Marches.

My fingers twitched.

My body still ached.

I had never wanted to give up more than I did now.

I could already see it—if I went back to that household, I could lock myself in my room, burn all my responsibilities, pretend none of this ever happened.

Wouldn't that be easier?

Wouldn't that be so much fucking easier?

But I knew. I fucking knew.

I would still wake up on this train.

No matter how many times I ran.

I gritted my teeth.

This world wouldn't let me leave.

I clenched my hands into fists, forcing my trembling body to sit upright.

"Haa… fuck it."

---

But even after I said that… I still found myself back at the obsidian.

Nothing had changed from the previous encounters—except the fact that I tried my best to accelerate my thoughts, to move, to figure something out.

I wanted to wake up.

I wanted to wake up so fucking badly.

But no matter how many times I did this…

It all still felt like a dream I so desperately wanted to wake up from.

*Cough!*

"It hurts...

It hurts...

It hurts..."

I muttered, each syllable carrying pain.

I coughed again, blood escaping my mouth.

I was able to make out my appearance from the glass shards scattered all over the floor where I lay.

It wasn't pleasant in the slightest.

My eyes were bloodshot and full of tears.

Blood dripped from my mouth and nose.

In other pieces of shattered glass, I saw two other bodies around me, in the same state I was in—each lying in a pool of blood.

"Claire..."

I wanted to move and sit upright, but the fear of more pain coursing through my body held me back.

*Cough...*

In all honesty, this was the first time I had experienced such immense pain.

I was dying... and I could feel it.

But the agony was too much. I wanted it to end.

The thought of ending it myself washed over me, and I strained, trying to pick up a glass shard with my bloody hands.

"I can't...I just can't..."

Maybe

*Splatter!*

My eyes widened and pupils shrank.

Blood splattered across my face.

"AAAGGHHHH!!!"

I screamed, clutching the hand I had tried to pick up the glass shard with.

My hand was... gone.

A foot appeared in my peripheral vision.

I looked up while clenching my severed arm, trying to stop the flow of blood.

The same woman stood above me, wearing a skirt, black leggings, and high-heeled boots.

As she stepped into the flickering chandelier light, her features became visible.

She had red hair and blue eyes.

Her beauty was otherworldly.

But that beautiful face bore a look of disgust as she sneered down at me.

I recognized her.

Not only was she a member in the Knight Order but she worked in the Obsidian.

She was Noel's Senior Manager.

Although she had been strict when Noel worked at the Imperial Security Department, the two grew closer.

At least...that's what the other employees saw and thought.

The truth is...that relationship was one sided.

She chose to hide her feelings for Noel by putting up a wall of being the strict senior.

All because at the time...Noel actually had a fiancee.

She chose to maintain that boundary especially at work. But her feelings never faded.

If anything she expected them to be fully suppressed but they only grew.

Noel didn't even notice it.

But he did like her at some point...and that only led to having a platonic friendship.

She was older than him after all.

"..."

From the memories, the two didn't have any bad blood even after all that.

So why...why was she doing this?

I had so many questions that lacked answers.

But for now...all I could do was try and plead for my life.

"P-please..."

I uttered, coughing up blood as I weakly raised my remaining arm toward her, a desperate plea for mercy.

In a split second, my other hand was severed.

*Splatter!*

I screamed again.

But the more pain was added to me, the number my body became—halfway to death.

Blood rushed desperately from every organ, trying to heal me.

But it was futile.

All it led to was more blood loss.

"Wind Blade..."

Her voice was void of emotion.

A powerful slash of wind severed my right leg.

I cried and cried.

Tears ran dry, and with each sob, the ones left slowly turned red.

Then came her sobs.

'She's crying?...'

I could see tears welling up in her eyes.

I coughed, trying to speak.

"E-even when you cry... you're still as beautiful as ever..."

*Cough!*

"But... just this once... please—"

*Splatter!*

Her hand remained extended, her head turned away.

"I don't even know why I fell for a man like you..."

Those were the last words I heard.

---

The train whistle.

The train rocked gently, the rhythmic clatter of steel on steel filling the silence.

I stared at the floor.

Blank.

My eyes traced the wooden panels, the dust caught in the dim glow of the lanterns.

Nothing in my head.

No thoughts. No feelings. Just… empty.

Slowly, I reached for the walking cane at my side.

My fingers wrapped around it, gripping it tight.

With a sharp motion, I snapped it in half.

The splintered edge gleamed under the light—jagged, uneven, sharp enough.

I held it with both hands, the point trembling near my throat.

Just a little push.

Just a little more.

"Hey—"

A voice beside me.

A hand grabbed my wrist.

I shoved them away.

And I pushed.

Pain.

A sharp, searing pain, digging into my skin, slicing through flesh.

Blood spilled down my collar, warm, sticky.

My hands shook, but I pressed harder, harder—

'End it.'

Those two words reverberated in my head.

The man beside me shouted, his hands grabbing at me again, trying to pull the wood away.

But I didn't let go.

'End it.'

Blood dripped onto my lap. My breath hitched. My vision blurred.

I felt it—that pull. That moment of slipping away.

Then—

Darkness.

Then—

Pain.

Then—

The train whistle screamed in my ears.

I was back.

My fingers trembled as they reached for my throat.

No wound. No blood. Just skin, unbroken, unscarred.

I reached for the cane again.

I broke it.

I pushed it into my throat again.

Pain. Blood. Darkness.

Again.

Pain. Blood. Darkness.

Again.

Pain. Blood. Darkness.

Again. Again. Again.

Each time, I woke up right back in this seat, my hands shaking, my throat intact.

It wouldn't let me.

It wouldn't fucking let me.

I let the broken cane fall from my hands.

I sat there.

Staring at nothing.

Feeling nothing.

Just breathing.

Just waiting.

For what, I didn't know.

"..."

I sighed yet again.

For some reason, the train ride this time felt longer than it had to.

What should I do now?

「Stop – Elyndral」

The announcement came just as the train slowed to a halt.

This time, I took a deep breath, trying—failing—to calm myself.

My hands gave me away, trembling ever so slightly.

It was absurd.

Even though I knew what awaited me, my body instinctively recoiled.

I was walking straight back to my grave.

The Obsidian…

The last two times I died, I had noticed something.

The clock inside the Obsidian—the one mounted high on the security hall's arch—was always different.

Which meant…

There wasn't just one attack.

There were multiple.

And more importantly, I had never arrived early enough to witness the very first one.

I shut my eyes and began piecing the sequence together.

Regression #? – Death by My Former Colleagues

Time of Death: 7:23 PM (Obsidian Standard Time)

Arrived late. Guards outside were already dead.

The massacre had already occurred by the time I stepped in.

Most of my ex-co-workers were still alive when the attack happened.

But by the time I got there, they were corpses.

Conclusion: They were the first targets.

Regression #?– Death by Senior Manager

Time of Death: 7:19 PM (Obsidian Standard Time)

Arrived slightly earlier than the last time.

Two guards stationed outside had their heads explode as soon as I entered.

Meaning, the attacker was still inside or leaving.

She arrived shortly after and killed me.

Conclusion: The massacre had already ended by the time she arrived.

Which meant…

Whoever killed my ex-coworkers wasn't her.

Someone else had been in the Obsidian before she showed up.

But why?

I clenched my jaw.

From the timing, I had never arrived early enough to witness the first event.

But based on the second regression, the massacre ended minutes before 7:19 PM—when the guards were killed.

Whoever orchestrated the first attack had left before the second one began.

I remembered it now.

The two guards outside.

Their heads bursting like ripe fruit the moment I stepped inside.

That was the turning point.

That was when the second assailant—the senior manager—appeared.

Her eyes…

Lifeless.

But—

They weren't normal.

I remembered now—a shape burned into them.

A crest.

A love crest.

A spell? A curse?

Another theory.

But this one, I was sure of.

I exhaled slowly.

There was no way she was in her right mind when she killed me.

Which meant, if I wanted answers…

I needed to arrive earlier than 7 PM.

---

I looked down at the briefcase resting beside me.

"...What had the original Noel been carrying in here?"

With a sharp click, I unfastened the lock. The contents were unexpected—metal components, tools, unfinished prototypes.

Devices.

Magic engineering prototypes.

I furrowed my brows. I was an instructor in magic engineering, wasn't I?

One device caught my eye.

It was… incomplete.

A small metallic construct, its core empty, waiting for an input.

I recognized it immediately.

A prototype teleportation device.

It wasn't fully developed.

But if I understood the mechanisms correctly…

It didn't transport to just any location. It connected to another corresponding device.

Meaning—

If the original Noel had been working on this…

Then there had to be another one somewhere.

I took a shaky breath.

There was only one way to find out.

I activated it.

A sharp pulse ran through my body—a pull, a shift, a break in space.

And then—

Darkness.

---

Light.

I gasped as my body reassembled itself in a familiar room.

Cold air. Mahogany desk. Stacks of classified reports.

My old office.

Imperial Security Department.

It worked.

I turned, my eyes landing on the clock mounted on the wall.

6:42 PM.

I was early.

***

[Imperial Security Department – Noel's Office]

Claire hesitated outside the door, clutching a few documents to her chest.

She had heard something—a sound, faint but unmistakable, coming from inside the office.

That shouldn't have been possible.

Sir Grenn's office had been locked for three years.

Noel Saint Grenn—her old manager, the man who had suddenly vanished to join the military despite his fragile health—was supposed to be returning today.

She had overheard the announcement.

But he wasn't supposed to be here yet.

Still, her curiosity got the better of her.

She took a breath, steadied her nerves, and pushed the door open.

And then—

She froze.

Noel stood there, staring at her as if she were a ghost.

"...Manager?"

Before she could process anything, he moved toward her.

She flinched slightly—Noel had always been distant, withdrawn, someone who kept interactions brief and efficient.

But then—

He hugged her.

Her breath hitched.

"...Huh?"

It took a second for her body to respond, but she found herself hesitantly returning the embrace.

"…How did you get in here?"

"I should've known if you had arrived way before anyone else..."

She asked, her voice soft, still reeling from the shock.

Noel didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he pulled away, studying her as if memorizing every detail of her face.

Claire swallowed, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

Then, as if realizing something, she quickly added.

"Ah, I heard word that you were returning today! Congratulations, Manager."

"How was the military?"

Her tone was cheerful, but there was a trace of worry beneath it.

Noel... hugging her.

Noel, of all people.

It wasn't normal.

He wasn't the type to do something like this.

Still, she chose not to question it too much. Maybe the time away had changed him.

But then she noticed something else—his cane.

Or rather, the absence of it.

Her eyes darted to the side of the desk, then the chair. Nothing.

A pang of alarm struck her.

"Manager… where's your cane?"

Noel didn't answer.

That wasn't good.

She immediately turned toward one of the old cupboards, pulling it open and retrieving a spare cane.

She always kept one, just in case.

"I knew you'd forget it one day."

She murmured, walking back and placing it in his hands.

Noel stared at it for a moment before sighing.

She knew him too well.

Too damn well.

Claire gave a small, sheepish smile.

"When I heard you enlisted… I couldn't help but worry."

She paused, gripping the ends of her sleeves.

"But now you're here."

Her voice softened, relieved.

"You're okay."

Noel didn't respond.

She waited, but when he didn't say anything, she cleared her throat and asked.

"So… are you back at the Treasury Section?"

It was where he used to work.

Three years ago.

That was why he was here, right?

Noel remained quiet.

Then—

"Where is Senior Manager Phoebe?"

The sudden change in topic caught Claire off guard.

"Manager Phoebe?"

She tilted her head, confused.

"She's not in the department at the moment. She should be back soon, though."

Noel's expression darkened.

Claire blinked, unsure why he was asking.

Then, before she could inquire further, Noel reached for a sealed letter from his coat and held it out to her.

"I need you to deliver this to her," he said.

Claire looked at the envelope.

It was sealed with the Saint Grenn insignia.

That alone made it important.

"…What's in itit

She asked, narrowing her eyes playfully.

"An official notice," Noel replied smoothly.

"I'd prefer if you didn't peek."

She pouted, crossing her arms.

"You know me too well…"

She took the letter, holding it carefully.

"…Fine, I won't look at it."

"Good."

The reply was curt, but firm.

Claire tilted her head slightly, still feeling that something was off—but ultimately, she shrugged it off.

If Noel wanted this letter delivered, then it must be important.

"I know alot of people want to see me...but please relay no visits until later...

I'm already tired as it is..."

Noel added.

"Okay..." Claire replied.

"Oh and by the way...alot of us had missed you...

...especially the senior manager..."

With a quick nod, she turned on her heels and left the office.

As the door shut behind her, Noel exhaled.

That should keep her out of harm's way.

The letter was just a confirmation of his return as a civil servant at the Imperial security department.

Nothing more.

'If I considered it as important then Claire would treat it as urgent...'

Noel thought.

Now—

The attack.

Waiting wasn't an option.

This was too much. Way too much for a romance game.

But…

If he could subjugate the attack, then maybe—just maybe—things would start smoothing out.

He just had to survive first.

***

I couldn't sit still.

My hands trembled faintly, my legs restless, pacing the room over and over again.

I ran my fingers over the desk, feeling the polished wood beneath my palm.

Spotless.

They had cleaned it.

Had they been expecting me back in this position?

Without even considering the possibility that I'd quit?

That I wouldn't return after three years?

I exhaled, shaking my head.

They really cherished my presence here, didn't they?

Especially the juniors.

I dragged the chair back and collapsed into it, rubbing my temples.

This wasn't the time to dwell on that.

I needed to act.

I grabbed the receiver of the office's communication device, dialing a direct line to the security forces.

A static click, then a voice:

"Imperial Security Division, how may I assist you?"

"I need immediate deployment of additional knights to the Obsidian."

There was a pause.

"Oh Sir Grenn, you have returned...welcome back...but if you don't mind..."

"..."

"…Sir? May I ask the reason?"

"No."

Another silence, this time longer.

"...Understood. Reinforcements will be dispatched immediately."

I sighed, releasing the tension in my shoulders.

They didn't push for answers. Good.

Being a manager still held weight. At least some things hadn't changed.

Then—

The door creaked open.

My eyes flicked up, irritation flaring.

"I thought I told Claire that I didn't want any visits right now. I just got back, and I'm tired."

But the person who stepped inside wasn't Claire.

A maid entered, balancing a tray with a teacup.

Her head bowed slightly.

"My apologies, Sir Grenn, but I had to bring you some tea. Word is already spreading that you've returned."

I frowned but didn't object as she placed the cup on my desk.

I didn't remember her.

But I supposed the staff had changed in three years.

Then—

Another visitor.

A woman stepped into the office, smiling.

"Sir Grenn! Congratulations on your return—"

Her voice cut off.

Her body swayed.

Then—

BANG.

Blood.

The sound was sickening—wet, abrupt, and final.

Her head exploded.

My breath caught in my throat.

Blood splattered across the walls, across the floor—across me.

I stumbled back.

My heart pounded, breath hitching, brain struggling to process.

I looked at the maid.

She hadn't moved. Still bowing.

One hand rested lightly on her chest.

The other was outstretched.

Fingers elegantly spread—toward the woman who no longer had a head.

Slowly—too slowly—she lifted her gaze.

And then—

She smiled.

"Why did you kill her Sir Grenn?"