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Chapter 93: ’The World Started Over’

Chapter 93: ’The World Started Over’

Florian’s breath hitched as Heinz loomed over him, the glow of his crimson irises burning like embers in the dimly lit chamber. The flickering candlelight barely softened the sharp edges of his face, casting long, ominous shadows that stretched across the cold stone floor. The air itself felt suffocating—thick with something unseen, something heavy.

Something dangerous.

’How could this be happening?’

It wasn’t supposed to be possible.

The realization struck him hard, like an iron fist tightening around his chest.

’Is Heinz... a regressor?’

His pulse pounded against his ears.

No. That can’t be right. It shouldn’t be right.

If Heinz had truly relived these events, that meant the past had already unfolded once before. That the horrors, the tragedies—the deaths—had already happened. But then... why was Aden here? How had he ended up inside this world? And more importantly—why was it different this time?

Nothing about this made sense.

Heinz’s voice sliced through his thoughts, smooth and deliberate.

"Based on your reaction, you do understand what I’m talking about." His tone was maddeningly calm, devoid of emotion, yet it carried the weight of something absolute. "There’s no point in trying to talk your way out of this now."

His eyes gleamed, piercing through Florian like they could strip him down to his very soul.

"So—who are you? And what are your intentions?"

Florian swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

"M-My intentions?" His voice wavered, betraying his attempt at composure. His hands clenched at his sides to keep them from trembling, but the way Heinz stared at him—through him—made it hard to breathe.

But despite the fear curling in his gut, despite the weight of this confrontation pressing down on him, there was one answer he knew for certain.

It was the only thing he could say.

"My only intention," he said, his voice more even now, "is to get back to my original body."

Silence.

Then Heinz’s gaze darkened.

"So, you admit you aren’t Florian?"

Florian’s breath hitched.

’Is he serious? The way he’s speaking—it’s like I can’t even deny it anymore!’

There was no point in dragging this out.

He exhaled sharply. "Yes," he said, voice low but firm. "I’m not Florian."

The tension between them thickened, the unspoken truth hanging in the air like a blade poised to fall.

Heinz tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Then who are you?"

Florian’s fingers twitched.

’That’s the problem,’ he thought bitterly.

How the hell was he supposed to explain this to someone who had lived through it?

How could he tell a regressor that he wasn’t even from this world? That his entire existence—his life—was nothing more than a character in a story crafted by Aden’s sister?

It would sound insane.

He couldn’t say the truth. He wouldn’t.

So instead, he carefully crafted his next words.

"I don’t recall," he said, keeping his voice controlled. "All I know is that I woke up in a different body... with only the wish to go back home."

It was the most convincing answer he could give without unraveling everything.

Another long, suffocating silence.

Heinz studied him with sharp, calculating eyes, his scrutiny so intense that Florian had to resist the urge to shift under his gaze.

Then, Heinz spoke again.

"And yet," he mused, "you played the role of Florian far too well." His fingers drummed once against the desk, slow and deliberate. "You didn’t even seem surprised when I mentioned his execution."

Florian hesitated, forcing himself to stay composed.

"I can see... some of his memories," he admitted, voice quiet. "They come in flashes. Sometimes. And there was one in particular—one of him dying."

A pause.

"Being decapitated."

Even saying the words made his stomach twist.

His throat felt tight, his breath unsteady. The image from that fragmented memory burned itself into his mind—the cold steel slicing through flesh, the sensation of falling, the sheer horror of it.

"And I saw you."

The moment the words left his lips, an almost imperceptible shift flickered across Heinz’s face. It was subtle—gone in an instant—but Florian caught it.

A shadow of something—recognition? Wariness?

The silence that followed was absolute.

Heinz’s gaze bore into him, searching—probing—for any sign of deception.

But there was none.

Because this time, Florian wasn’t lying.

He just wasn’t telling the whole truth.

Seconds stretched into eternity before Heinz finally moved.

He took a slow step back. Then another. The tension in his shoulders loosened—just slightly—as he exhaled through his nose.

A soft, almost amused hum left him.

"I knew it couldn’t have been a mistake," Heinz murmured, more to himself than to Florian. "You acted far too differently from how he did... last time."

Florian’s heart lurched.

Last time.

That was confirmation.

Heinz had been through this before.

He was a regressor.

Florian barely kept his expression neutral, but inside, his thoughts were racing.

’Now that he knows I’m not the real Florian... can I speak more freely?’

There was only one way to find out.

"If I may," Florian started cautiously, measuring his words, "can I be the one to ask questions now?"

Heinz didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he simply observed him. Then, without a word, he leaned back against the desk, resting slightly on its edge.

The shift in posture was slight, but telling.

It was different from how he usually carried himself. Less rigid. Less rehearsed.

But no less dangerous.

Florian’s stomach twisted with unease.

’Is this why he’s able to look at me now? Because he realized I wasn’t actually Florian?’

"Go ahead," Heinz finally allowed.

Florian took a deep breath, steadying himself.

"You said you’ve seen this all before," he said, his voice quieter now. "What does that mean?"

His hands curled slightly at his sides, his frustration bleeding into his words.

"I’ve already been struggling to make sense of waking up in this body. And yet—you seem to know a lot."

Heinz didn’t respond right away.

Instead, he simply tilted his head, his crimson gaze steady, unreadable.

"Isn’t it obvious? I died, and the world started over."

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