Chapter 7- First story (1)

Before I find the villain, I should see this through to the end.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little sad that Marie had completely forgotten me. There's an ache to it—quiet, dull—but it's not the reason I'm staying in this village a little longer.

There's still one more mystery I need to solve.

The third mystery.

What could it be?

I have a hunch.

The first mystery was the village itself—its strange structure, the way time seemed to fold inward, and how it operated on probabilities more than logic. The second mystery was me—my place here, my anomaly, my rejection by the world's rules.

So what could the third be?

I stepped beyond the village gates, the last rays of the sun brushing against my back. The sky had begun to soften into the colors of dusk—warm amber melting into pale lavender. The city walls stretched long shadows across the fields, as if the village were casting out its secrets, trying to keep them hidden a little longer.

Each of the mysteries so far had been tied to questions I couldn't stop asking myself. They weren't puzzles someone handed to me—they were born from within. And maybe that's the key.

So, what's the question now?

How should I find a fitting ending?

That must be it. The third mystery.

It isn't just about solving a problem or defeating a villain—it's about understanding what resolution even means in a world that doesn't follow the same rules I come from.

I remembered what the system told me in the beginning. It said that the ending was mine to choose. That this story—my story—wasn't fixed. It was never about reaching a single, defined conclusion. It was about how I shaped it. How I moved through it.

The system never said I had to end the story through the villain.

Maybe the villain isn't the only factor I need to consider.

And considering I'm an anomaly… the probability of something happening is never truly zero when I'm present. Even the impossible can become reality in the places I step into.

That means this village is the first step toward my ending.

Not just a location on a map. Not just a strange place that bends the rules. But a crossroads. A beginning of an end—one that I get to define.

The third mystery isn't about what's out there.

It's about what I choose to do with what's in front of me.

And somewhere between what this world expects and what I am capable of—somewhere in that narrow space where probabilities break apart—that's where the true ending will begin.

This village I didn't appear without a reason here. 

I did notice something strange in me. 

A strange feeling I have forgotten long ago.

The feeling of anticipation.

"This village I will tourn it into my prolouge for the big story that is about to begin" 

Somewhere Else...

"Why, God..."

My voice cracked as I collapsed to my knees, face buried in my hands.

"Why do I have to suffer so much?! First my mother... and now the old man!" Tears streamed freely down my cheeks.

Everything was burning. The smoke stung my eyes. The screams around me were growing faint, like echoes in a storm.

"You have to leave this village!" my brother yelled, grabbing my shoulders with trembling hands. "Run—run as far as you can!"

"But I don't want to leave you behind! You're all I have left, brother!"

He smiled at me—faintly, painfully.

"Don't forget us. The day will come when you'll avenge us."

"The Devil will feel your wrath," he added, "but not today."

"Today… you must survive."

"I… I'm sorry!" I cried, unable to say more.

I turned and ran—ran until my legs gave out, until the flames and screams disappeared behind me, swallowed by smoke and distance.

I didn't know where I was going. I only knew I had to keep moving.

The sun rose and fell. Again and again.

"How many days have I been walking?"

My body was tired. My throat dry. Hunger gnawed at me like a constant whisper in the back of my mind. My feet ached, my vision blurred.

And then—I saw her.

A girl. Young, with bright red hair and striking blue eyes. A few freckles scattered across her cheeks, giving her an oddly soft charm.

She looked at me with shock and concern.

"My God, you look like a skeleton," she said, rushing over.

I tried to speak, but my eyelids were growing heavier and heavier.

And then—

Darkness.

The moment my eyes flutter open, a dim, flickering light spills through a small, dirt-caked window, casting shadows across the rough-hewn wooden floor. The air smells of damp earth and wood smoke, and I hear the faint crackling of a fire nearby, its warmth wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. The walls, made of timber and stone, are worn with age, and the low ceiling looms above, darkened by thick beams. My bed, a simple straw mattress, rests atop an old, creaky frame in the corner of the humble room, surrounded by makeshift shelves holding clay pots and iron tools.

"Where am I?" I muttered softly to myself.

I try to stand, but the strength doesn't come.

"Have you woken up?" a voice asked.

I turn my head and see a girl standing nearby.

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice strained.

"You collapsed," she replied. "Don't you remember?"

"Collapsed?"

A flash of memory hits me—my village attacked by a man, and then me running away in fear.

"I haven't eaten or had water for days," I murmur weakly.

"Here, bread and water. You need to eat."

I took the bread and water, devouring them like an animal.

"May I ask your name?" she said in a soft voice.

"Maximilius," I answered

"What is yours?" I asked in return.

"Marie."