How many mistakes had I made in the past?
One?
Two?
Three?
Or perhaps so many that even the act of counting had long since lost its meaning.
No matter the number, the answer always circled back to the same truth—mistakes were what defined humanity itself.
To stumble, to fail, to regret… these were not exceptions, but inevitabilities. Some people learned to accept them.
Some found peace in endings they never truly wanted, convincing themselves that closure was happiness.
They laid everything to rest, sealed their past behind closed doors, and moved on.
But I was never one of them.
I had failed across countless worlds.
Made choices, corrected them, made new ones—only to watch the same conclusions unfold time and time again.
Progress was made, lessons were learned, yet the ending remained unchanged.
No matter how carefully I walked the path, no matter how much wisdom I accumulated, inevitability always waited at the end.
That was why this time had to be different.
