Toki stared at the Star Collector with a clarity he had never possessed before.
He had seen this man countless times. In burning streets. In shattered courtyards. Standing at the edge of his failures like a polite observer at an execution.
And yet now, as the beast ran through the forest toward the manor, Toki studied him as if for the first time.
The Star Collector was young. Golden hair fell neatly to the side of his face, unburned, unstained despite the massacre they had left behind. His emerald-green eyes reflected light like polished gemstones. His posture remained immaculate even as he rode one-handed.
One-handed.
Because the other arm had been severed by him.
The empty sleeve fluttered slightly in the wind, darkened where dried blood had stiffened the fabric.
And still he held Toki easily with his remaining hand, as though Toki weighed nothing at all.
The forest thickened. The air grew familiar. The subtle curve of the path. The old stone markers half-swallowed by moss.
We're close.
Toki didn't need to look to know.
The Star Collector spoke without looking at him.
"The order I received from my leader," he said calmly, "was simple. Make his life as miserable as possible."
His tone was conversational, almost apologetic.
"Rosalin was assigned to finish what I could not."
Toki said nothing.
The beast's claws tore through damp soil. Trees thinned ahead.
"My leader is… powerful," the Star Collector continued. "Powerful beyond what even I fully comprehend. And yet this time… this is different."
A faint crease appeared between his brows.
"I have slaughtered cities before. It was never personal."
His emerald eyes flicked toward Toki briefly.
"This time, it is."
The manor's outer trees were now visible between trunks.
"You attracted the attention of someone you should never have drawn the gaze of, my friend."
Friend.
The word felt wrong.
"Only a few trees remain between us and the manor."
The beast slowed.
Then stopped.
The Star Collector did not immediately move.
"Toki."
Silence filled the forest. No birds. No wind.
"I have never cared about suffering," he said quietly. "Especially not the suffering of the man who cut off my arm."
He shifted slightly in the saddle.
"But what lies beyond these trees…"
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Once you see it, there will be no return."
He loosened his hold on Toki, though he did not release him.
"Take this as the first and last good deed I will ever do for you."
He leaned closer, voice lowering.
"Run."
Toki's breathing was steady.
"Forget everything."
The Star Collector's voice cracked just slightly.
"I have told you this in so many worlds."
Toki's eyes sharpened.
"Please," the Star Collector whispered. "Leave. Abandon this kingdom. If you flee now, perhaps my leader will not look for you. Perhaps you will slip through unnoticed."
He swallowed.
"There is nothing you can do."
Toki murmured softly.
"Move forward."
The Star Collector closed his eyes briefly.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
He nudged the beast.
They crossed the final line of trees.
And the manor came into view.
The gates were broken.
Not shattered from battle.
Torn open.
Bent outward.
The courtyard beyond lay unnaturally still.
Silence so complete it felt deliberate.
The beast stepped inside.
The crunch beneath its claws was not snow alone.
Toki felt it instantly.
Wrong.
Something was wrong.
The Star Collector dismounted first and lowered Toki to the ground.
Toki's boots sank into wet snow.
He took one step.
Then another.
His eyes moved across the courtyard.
The snowmen.
The children had built them days ago. Crooked, joyful things with pebble eyes and mismatched scarves.
They were still standing.
But the snow was no longer white.
It was soaked through with red.
Dark.
Thick.
Frozen into crusted layers.
Toki's gaze rose slowly.
And he saw.
Where the round snow heads should have been—
Human heads rested.
Arranged carefully.
Faces intact.
Eyes closed.
Hair matted dark at the base.
All turned toward the gate.
Toward him.
Waiting.
Yuki.
Suzume.
Lilith.
Kandaki.
Haru.
Natsu.
Aki.
Tora.
And—
Hana.
Smallest of all.
Her face peaceful.
For a second, Toki did not breathe.
Then something tore out of him.
It was not a scream.
It was something deeper.
A sound that did not belong to language.
His throat shredded as he howled.
He staggered forward, falling to his knees in the blood-soaked snow.
"No—no—no—no—no—"
His hands clawed at the snowman nearest him, knocking it apart. Snow collapsed, revealing more red beneath.
He dug frantically, sobbing, tearing through packed ice.
"Hana—Hana—"
His fingers struck fabric.
A small sleeve.
He uncovered her tiny body, bound upright to a wooden stake and buried in snow to hold her in place.
His vision blurred completely.
He cradled what remained of her, shaking violently.
The Star Collector approached slowly and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Toki…"
"There is still time," he said softly. "Do not enter the house."
Toki moved without thinking.
He lunged.
His teeth sank into the Star Collector's wrist.
He bit down with everything left in him.
Two fingers tore free in his mouth.
The Star Collector screamed and stumbled backward, blood pouring from his mangled hand.
Toki spat flesh into the snow and lunged again, feral, blind with grief.
The beast intercepted him mid-charge and slammed him into the ground.
The revolver fell from Toki's coat and skidded across the courtyard.
The Star Collector, breathing heavily, picked it up.
He stared at it.
Then at Toki.
He walked forward.
Placed the barrel gently against Toki's forehead.
Even now, his voice was steady.
"Even after this… I still cannot hate you."
Blood dripped from his hand onto the snow.
"All I feel is pity."
Toki glared up at him, face streaked with blood and tears.
"Take this as your final chance," the Star Collector said. "In the next loop, leave this kingdom. Do not return."
Toki's lips trembled.
The barrel pressed firmer.
"If you continue… it will only get worse."
A pause.
"Bang."
The gunshot cracked through the silent courtyard.
Toki's body jerked once.
Then went still.
The Star Collector closed Toki s eyes
Then he stroked the beast's neck absently.
"I hope you make the correct decision next time, Toki."
The air trembled.
The sky fractured like glass.
Sound collapsed inward.
Light inverted.
And everything—
Shattered.
Cold air filled Toki's lungs.
He gasped.
He was on his back.
Snow beneath him.
He rolled over violently.
The fountain.
The plaza.
Morning light.
Umma stood beside him, alive.
Whole.
Concerned.
His hands flew to his face.
No blood.
No bullet wound.
No smoke.
The city stood intact around him.
He began shaking uncontrollably.
He staggered to his feet.
"No…"
He looked at his hands.
Whole.
Unburned.
His throat worked soundlessly.
The eclipse had not begun.
It was morning.
The same morning.
Again.
His stomach heaved and he vomited into the snow.
Memory slammed into him in waves.
Bernard's death.
Harold's collapse.
Utsuki turning to ash.
The snowmen.
Hana's small body.
The gunshot.
He fell to his knees.
"I remember."
His whisper trembled.
"I remember everything."
Umma nudged him gently.
He grabbed her fur and buried his face into her neck, sobbing violently.
"I need one more attempt," Toki murmured to himself as dawn's first pale breath brushed the horizon. "Just one more."
Umma shifted , sensing the tension in his body. The world was quiet, untouched.
"But I can't let them suffer like that," he whispered, fingers tightening in her fur. "I can't watch it again."
"It's pointless anyway," he exhaled hollowly. "No matter what I do, it collapses."
He mounted Umma and directed her toward the palace. The streets were dim, lanterns flickering weakly against the lingering night. Frost clung to rooftops. Somewhere, a guard yawned, unaware that in another version of this morning, he had already died screaming.
The palace gates opened at Toki's silent approach. No one questioned him. He was expected. Trusted.
That trust tasted like ash.
Inside the throne room, King Mathias stood beside a long oak table scattered with documents and sealed letters. He looked up when Toki entered.
"Toki," Mathias said warmly. "You're early. I was just reviewing the arrangements for the examination ceremony. You've been working yourself too hard."
Toki did not answer.
The king frowned faintly. "Is something wrong?"
Toki walked forward slowly, boots echoing against marble.
Mathias straightened. "You look pale. Sit, perhaps—"
Steel whispered as Toki drew his blade.
Mathias' eyes widened—not in fear at first, but confusion. "Toki?"
There was no hesitation.
The sword moved in a single clean arc.
Silence followed.
The crown rolled once across stone before stopping near Toki's boot.
He stood still for several seconds.
Then he stepped forward and lifted the fallen crown. He placed it carefully upon the severed head resting against the polished floor.
"I will not let anyone take your crown again," he said softly.
The words trembled, but his hands did not.
He turned and left.
No alarm was raised yet. The palace was large. Death took time to be discovered.
He moved through corridors with measured steps, arriving at the autopsy chamber below the west wing. Light seeped through narrow windows.
Inside, Harold and Lorelay stood over a covered body, discussing quietly.
"Toki?" Lorelay said in surprise. "It's not even dawn. What are you doing here?"
Harold glanced up. "You look like hell."
Toki stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
He extinguished the main lamp.
Darkness swallowed the room.
"Toki?" Lorelay's voice sharpened. "This isn't funny."
In the dimness, Toki moved.
There was a brief struggle—a startled gasp, the sound of fabric twisting, a body hitting the floor.
Harold rushed forward, fumbling to relight the torch.
When flame returned, Lorelay lay motionless.
Harold's face drained of color. "What—"
He barely finished the word before Toki was behind him.
Hands closed around his throat with terrifying strength.
"Toki—!" Harold tried to shout, but the sound strangled itself in his chest.
His fingers clawed at Toki's wrists. "What are you doing?!"
Toki's voice was calm.
"I cannot let you die the way you did."
Harold choked. "You've lost your mind—"
"You begged me to run," Toki whispered near his ear. "You begged me to live."
Harold's movements weakened.
"I won't let you watch Bernard die again."
There was a sharp, final sound.
Harold's body went limp.
For a long moment he stood there, breathing evenly.
Then he picked up a cloth from the table and wiped his hands.
"I attacked you from behind," he murmured. "I wasn't fair."
His gaze lingered on Harold's still form.
"But neither was fate."
The door burst open.
Bernard stepped inside, sword half-drawn. "I heard shouting—"
He stopped.
His eyes moved from Lorelay to Harold.
Then to Toki.
"Toki," he said quietly, "what happened?"
Toki lifted the revolver.
Bernard's expression shifted—not to fear, but disbelief.
"Why?" he asked.
Toki's eyes were empty.
"Toki—"
"Bang."
The shot echoed violently in the chamber.
Bernard staggered back and collapsed.
Silence pressed in.
Toki approached him and knelt.
He closed Bernard's eyes with careful fingers.
"Forgive me," he whispered. "I cannot let you despair again."
He rose and left the chamber.
Above, the palace was beginning to stir. Footsteps echoed distantly. Servants moved. Guards spoke quietly in halls.
He passed them without acknowledgment.
Outside, several of his division members hurried toward him.
"Captain! We were looking for you. About the field preparations—"
He did not respond.
He mounted Umma and rode away.
Through the plaza.
Reginald stood near the fountain, adjusting his gloves. He glanced up as Toki passed.
Their eyes met briefly.
A chill ran down Reginald's spine.
He almost called out.
But something stopped him.
Toki looked away.
Reginald didn t deserved to die easily.
The forest swallowed them.
The manor gates loomed ahead, untouched by tragedy in this timeline.
Toki dismounted before the entrance.
Umma looked at him with trusting eyes.
He stroked her fur slowly.
"I'm sorry, girl," he said, pressing his forehead against hers. "I'll make it quick."
She did not understand.
The blade flashed once.
He did not look back.
He entered the gate.
The courtyard was peaceful. Snow unmarked. The snowmen still cheerful and intact.
Children's drawings hung near the doorway, fluttering faintly in the morning breeze as he entered the mansion.
Toki's hands trembled.
He closed the door behind him.
His chest tightened.
He knew why he came home.....