I stared at the last, empty page, the ghostly lines of script still burned into my mind's eye. Every word, every desperate plea and grim prophecy, replayed itself, knitting together a horrifying tapestry of the past.
Hey, System, I muttered in my mind, the question a silent accusation. It was you who did it, right? The one who talked to my past self, the one who took away my memories.
Silence was my only answer, as expected. But I chuckled, a low, humorless sound.
You don't have to answer. I glanced at the inert notebook again. It's way too obvious now anyway.
There was truly nothing more here.
I closed the notebook, then closed the larger book around it, containing the secret once more. I picked up my cooled tea, taking another sip. The pieces of the puzzle, fragmented for so long, were finally clicking into place, aligning into a chilling, cohesive picture.