Chapter 2: The first loop

Ren's head throbbed as he slowly regained consciousness. The air smelled damp, the faint scent of moss and old wood filling his nostrils. His body felt heavy, as though he had been asleep for hours. Blinking against the dim light, he pushed himself upright, his fingers brushing against rough, uneven stone.

Where was he?

His mind scrambled to retrace his steps. The shrine. The wish. The sudden wave of dizziness. But… wasn't he supposed to be outside?

Ren glanced around. He was still at the shrine, kneeling before the offering box. The torii gate loomed in the distance, just as worn and faded as before. But something was off—the air was too still, the sounds of the forest muted, as if the world was holding its breath.

Had he passed out? How much time had gone by?

Shaking off the unease creeping along his spine, Ren stood up, dusting off his clothes. His hands trembled slightly, but he ignored it. He needed to get out of here. Turning towards the exit path, he retraced his steps, but as he neared the torii gate, a sudden dizziness struck him again. The ground beneath his feet felt unstable, like walking on shifting sand. He staggered, gripping the side of a moss-covered stone lantern for support.

A ringing sound filled his ears—soft, yet relentless. The same bell chime he had heard before losing consciousness.

Then he fell.

It wasn't a dramatic collapse, just a moment of imbalance, but it was enough. His knees hit the ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The dizziness subsided just as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a lingering sensation, as if something had brushed against the edge of his consciousness.

Ren swallowed hard. **Something wasn't right.**

With deliberate effort, he pulled himself back up and stumbled toward the city streets. The familiar sight of buildings and neon lights should have been comforting, but as he made his way home, an uncanny feeling followed him, clinging to his skin like a cold mist.

When he reached his apartment, he stopped at the door, staring at the handle. His fingers hesitated before turning it. The moment he stepped inside, a chill ran down his spine.

The lights were already on.

His apartment was just as he had left it—his desk cluttered with books, an empty cup of coffee sitting on the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator filling the silence. And yet, **everything felt… misplaced.**

His phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him. He pulled it out, expecting a message or missed call. But the screen displayed something that made his breath hitch.

**Date: March 4th**

That couldn't be right. It was **already March 4th** when he went to the shrine.

His pulse quickened. He refreshed the screen, checking the time. Midnight had passed, yet the date remained the same. **Had the clock stopped? Was his phone glitching?**

He reached for the TV remote and flipped to the news channel. The anchor's voice filled the room, droning on about local events. Ren barely listened—his eyes were locked onto the digital timestamp in the corner of the screen.

March 4th.

His stomach twisted.

Ren sat down slowly, gripping the remote tighter than necessary. His mind raced through possibilities—sleep deprivation, a prank, maybe even a concussion from the fall. But deep down, something inside him whispered the truth.

He hadn't moved forward. Time had reset.

And then, the sound of bells rang again.