“There are many,” the prophet interrupted me. “All along, many people have been watching you, but because they all hid it so well, you have never felt it.”
I was somewhat surprised.
Aside from my own mentor, that perverted, voyeuristic woman, who else would keep track of my every move?
"Yes, there are many more. For example, the faceless person you met before, or us."
"……Why?"
The prophet took a sip of his tea: "Hmm, it's normal for you to ask this question, but... yes, you probably don't know yet. But for us, everything that happens in this world is not a simple straight line, but something more like a curve, or even a tangled ball of yarn that a cat has crumpled up."
"Don't you ever wonder why most things that happen in this world can be presented in the form of stories, or even books? Or even transformed into a world that is almost identical to reality?"
I couldn't answer his question because it was outside my area of expertise, so I could only sit silently and watch his long, slender fingers tapping the table.
With a final, dull thud, the prophet concluded: "Because this world is not singular, but possesses a certain unrepeatable repetition—of course, you may not understand what I'm saying now, but that's alright, all you need to do now is listen."
He spoke extremely quickly, as if he had borrowed someone else's words and was eager to return them, spitting out the words rapidly and urgently: "However, this is not how the world should be, but rather it has been influenced by some external force that even we cannot see. If this situation continues, the future that belongs to this world will never come."
"That was wrong. But now that the scale is pointing to the correct position, we have a new option."
"In our view, the 'key' to breaking this vicious cycle is you, Mr. [Uriel], who is sitting right across from me now."
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