"I have to do it...I have to..."

"You! You deserve to die!"

Oxygen refreshes you, like a sharp blade pressed against your throat.

"Grind...decompose".

"I'm here. You shouldn't have committed suicide."

He Yu suddenly opened his eyes. He stood in the light, but his figure was still dark, as if he was fighting against the whole world.

Someone across from me was watching.

832 calmly tidied up the manuscript, and a brand new book clip appeared on the table. The style was similar to office paper, but the effect was excellent.

He silently bound all the manuscripts together, replaced the borders, and the chaotic light swept across his vertical pupils like a bottomless abyss, leaving a dark crack on the surface.

Backtracking complete.

Recorded data is unknown.

After a long while, the question, which I've heard countless times before, finally rang out.

"832?"

When he looked up, He Yu had already pulled out a chair and sat down without a care in the world.

"Aside from some deterioration in memory, is everything else completely unaffected?"

"But it's really strange. Logically speaking, you shouldn't even be able to detect disordered memories. Is this the advantage of being an adaptor?"

"The records about you in the 'Rules of Fate' are too vague, with only a general overview, but the result... cannot be altered, 659."

You're wasting your time.

He Yu was stunned for a moment, his eyes turning incredulous.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Again, those are familiar, elegant words.