“So, how’s it there on your home planet?” I asked, pulling myself back to the present, shaking off the haze of my wandering thoughts.


    “It’s peaceful,” Jade said, her eyes lighting up like distant stars. “We’ve got endless forests, and the planet’s only half terraformed. Force fields keep everything stabilized. There’s so much space to explore, so much to do... I had lots of pets, too. It’s really more of a science colony and a resource hub than anything else.” Her words tumbled out, a little scattered—she was still buzzed, after all.


    “You don’t like Earth, then?” I ventured.


    “It’s okay,” she said with a shrug, licking at the melting ice cream slipping down her hand. “But there are too many people. It’s so noisy here. Too much... everything.”


    Her words drifted into the quiet, and we walked on under the night sky. The gentle hush of the evening settled around us, punctuated only by the rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot and the whisper of a cool breeze. It felt like the city had finally exhaled, letting its chaos subside.


    Then, breaking the silence, Jade spoke again. “You know, before I came to Earth, I read so many books and watched a ton of media. I wanted to understand things better, to blend in more easily.” Her voice carried a spark of eagerness, as though she were about to share some hidden treasure.


    “Oh?” I prompted, curious. “What did you find?”


    “Well… Here people with useful meta nature like to dress up and call themselves ‘heroes,’ and they catch people who commit crimes, called ‘villains,’ It’s fascinating!” ” Jade said, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.


    I chuckled softly. “You’re not wrong, though these days, the term ‘hero’ feels... nostalgic. Most who do that kind of thing now are labeled as vigilantes, usually landing themselves in jail sooner rather than later.”


    Then Jade’s reply caught me completely off guard. “I want to do it.”


    “What?” I turned to her, blinking in disbelief. “Do what?”


    “I want to try being a hero,” she said, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and mischief. “Just once. I want to see what it feels like.”


    “Sure,” My head throbbed faintly as I listened to her ambitions. How old was she to have ideas like that? Hopefully, it was just the alcohol talking, and by morning, her sudden urge to play hero would be a fleeting memory.


    Seizing the moment, I decided to ask something that had been nagging at me for a while. “How do you manage to change your hairstyle every single day?”


    She giggled, clearly tipsy. “Oh, that! Hehehe.” Her laughter bubbled up before she continued, “It’s simple, really. I just think about what kind of hair I want before I go to sleep. As long as it’s possible, it’ll change overnight.”


    I froze, blinking in astonishment. “What?” I stared at her, my brain scrambling to process her words. Was she serious?


    Seeing my dumbfounded expression, she burst into laughter, harder this time, clutching her stomach as she doubled over. The sound was infectious, and for a moment, I felt a strange sense of relief. At least she was happy again, her earlier melancholy replaced by this childlike amusement. It was oddly reassuring.


    “Ah! You silly,” she managed between laughs, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “They’re just extensions.”


    I huffed, heat creeping up my neck as I turned away with a slight scowl. “Extensions,” I muttered under my breath, feeling more than a little foolish for falling for it. Of course. Extensions. Behind me, her laughter continued, light and unrestrained, filling the quiet night. Despite myself, I felt the corners of my lips twitch upward. Even if she was messing with me, at least she was herself again.


    “But I can change my hair with my powers,” Jade added, grinning mischievously. “Although... it has side effects. Once, it made me go completely bald.”


    I stared at her, trying to gauge whether she was serious or just messing with me again. At this point, I wasn’t sure I could trust a single word that came out of her mouth. The way she smirked, eyes glittering with amusement, only made it harder to tell.


    After another hour of walking and idle chatter, Jade called herself a ride home, waving at me as she disappeared into the night. I turned toward my place, my mind swirling with fragments of her stories, half wondering if I’d ever untangle truth from fiction.


    When I finally opened the door to my apartment, I was greeted by the sight of Aunt Grace slouched on the couch, completely engrossed in some low-budget horror movie. The dim, flickering light from the TV cast odd shadows around the room, making the scene look almost comical. My entrance startled her so much that she let out a yelp, flailed, and nearly launched herself off the couch.


    “Gosh,” I muttered, shaking my head as I closed the door behind me.


    Grace scrambled to sit upright, brushing herself off before shooting me a sharp, indignant glare. “Who are you showing that attitude to?” she snapped, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Classic Aunt Grace—always ready to cover up her awkwardness with a bit of bluster.


    I just waved her off with a smirk, too tired to tease her about it. Instead, I plopped down on the couch beside her and, to her surprise, pulled her into a hug. Her indignation softened into confusion, then something warmer.


    “What happened to you?” she asked, her voice tinged with genuine concern. “You’re acting... strange.”


    “Nothing,” I muttered, feigning nonchalance. “I just figured... you guys never loved me enough.”


    Aunt Grace blinked, her face a mix of puzzlement and disbelief. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, leaning back slightly to study my face. Then, as if something clicked, her expression shifted. “Wait… did someone break your heart?” Her tone danced between amusement and sympathy, clearly savoring the chance to tease me.


    I huffed, rolling my eyes as I slouched deeper into the couch. “No. Nothing like that,” I said, aiming for casualness, though my mind was still spinning from the evening’s oddities.


    Aunt Grace didn’t press further, but the way her skeptical glance lingered suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced. Eventually, she turned her attention back to her movie, the flickering images reflecting faintly in her eyes. After recharging my social batteries for a while, I wandered into the kitchen. A quick scan of the refrigerator yielded a couple of light snacks, which I devoured without much ceremony before retreating to my room.


    <hr>


    Since it was the weekend, I allowed myself the rare luxury of sleeping in. Even when I woke, I stayed in bed, relishing the comforting cocoon of blankets and the unhurried rhythm of the day. Eventually, I reached for my HyperSpace band, deciding to make a few upgrades to my personal virtual space.


    Sliding the sleek chrome device over my head, I accessed the customization menu and browsed through the list of items. The steep prices made me wince, but I reasoned that a small splurge wouldn’t hurt. I settled on replacing the tiny window with an expansive glass wall, adding an environmental patch that showcased a serene, snow-covered landscape beyond it. Instantly, the space felt brighter and more open, as though it had been transformed by the simple addition of light and perspective.


    I briefly entertained the idea of upgrading the entire house but dismissed it with a sigh. No need to go overboard on something purely virtual. Instead, I focused on smaller touches—a comfortable new sofa, some vibrant digital plants, and a scattering of pink flowers. As the upgrades came to life, the space took on a warm, inviting energy, vibrant and alive in ways it hadn’t been before.


    Leaning back against the edge of my bed, I admired the changes. Sometimes, even small adjustments could make everything feel different, like hitting a refresh button on your mind.


    As I was fine-tuning my virtual modifications, a notification popped up for a meet-up request. The name attached was unfamiliar, which immediately piqued my curiosity. Alongside it were a few friend requests from people I’d connected with the previous night. I stared at the meet-up invite, debating what to do about this unexpected guest. After a moment of deliberation, I accepted it.


    Almost instantly, a small cartoonish girl began materializing in my space. It was composed entirely of wax, its texture smooth and glossy under the ambient glow of the room.


    “Hii!” the figure greeted cheerfully, the voice unmistakably familiar. “It’s me, London.”


    I blinked, still adjusting to this odd intrusion. “Oh,” I managed, trying to mask my surprise. “And how exactly did you find me?”


    London’s waxy form shrugged. “I just closed my eyes and started scrolling while thinking about... you,” she explained nonchalantly. “Then, when I clicked, poof! I was here.”


    That sounded suspiciously like cheating. “You can do that?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. “How can you be sure I’m the right person?”


    Her figure froze, and for a second, I thought I’d caught her bluff. But then she grinned, her face stretching unnervingly due to the wax texture. “Because you haven’t kicked me out yet.”


    I considered it—kicking her out, that is. But in the end, I let her stay. Her appearance was odd, sure, but I couldn’t deny I was intrigued. She followed me to the newly installed glass wall, her head tilting as she took in the snowy landscape. Her waxy form reflected faintly in the virtual glass, which made the whole scene feel even stranger.


    I eventually settled on the sofa, motioning for her to sit—though I wasn’t sure how a wax figure would manage that. “Well then,” I said, fixing her with a measured gaze, “now that you’re here, what exactly is it you wanted to discuss?”


    “Nothing,” she replied too quickly, her voice overly casual.


    I raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. She wasn’t as good at lying as she probably thought. “So, you’re here because you wanted to see me?” I pressed, hoping for a bit more clarity.


    She shook her head again, leaving me frowning. Then what do you want, my lady? I thought, resisting the urge to sigh aloud. Instead, I leaned back and decided to wait her out, watching as the silence began to stretch.


    The virtual space grew increasingly awkward by the second—not that it bothered me in the slightest. I’d learned patience. London, however, was clearly less accustomed to such silences. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, nervously shaking her waxy legs. Her hands fidgeted, and her gaze darted anywhere but at me.


    Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she blurted out, “Fine, I came here because I wanted to ask you something, but now I’m not so sure.”


    “Ask me what?” I said evenly, keeping my tone neutral to avoid spooking her.


    She hesitated, biting her lip—well, metaphorically, since wax doesn’t really allow for that—and looked out the glass wall again. I waited, saying nothing, my patience unwavering. She’d talk when she was ready.


    Eventually, she sighed. “Okay, but promise you won’t laugh.”


    “No promises,” I said.


    She groaned, already regretting whatever she was about to say. And just like that, I knew I was in for something interesting.


    "Fine," Jade said, standing up abruptly and crossing her arms with theatrical flair. "Remember what you promised me yesterday?"


    I blinked, staring at her in confusion. "I made a promise yesterday? Why don’t I remember this?" Was she seriously trying to gaslight me now?


    "Yes!" she declared, plopping back down on the sofa with the air of someone who owned the world. She perched like a queen on her throne, fixing me with a haughty look. "You said you’d help me with the hero stuff." Her voice carried the certainty of someone who believed their own narrative without question.


    She hadn’t forgotten. Of course, she hadn’t. I shook my head, exasperated. “It’s too dangerous,” I began, trying to inject some logic into the situation. “Besides, every district already has its City Protector group and assigned private heroes teams. There’s no need for us to get involved with villains. And putting on a mask to interfere with government work? That’s illegal. We’d end up in jail—or worse. It’s just not worth it. I thought you understood that.”Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    But Jade wasn’t ready to let go. “I’ve thought this through,” she insisted, her eyes narrowing in determination. “And I’ve read enough comics and watched shows to know what I’m doing.”


    I stared at her, dumbfounded. Comics? Before I could interrupt, she barreled on, her voice rising with excitement.


    “We’ll get a police scanner,” she said, her words tumbling out like she was sharing the ultimate master plan. “We track crimes as they happen. If it’s something minor, we handle it quickly and disappear before the police or any heroes even know we’re there.”


    She paused dramatically, letting her words sink in, then leaned back with a smug grin. “And... I’m even willing to make you my sidekick.”


    I stared at her, completely flabbergasted. “Sidekick?” I managed after a moment. Comics, police scanner, sidekick. This girl was delusional. Did she think the real world worked like some Saturday morning cartoon? The world of meta nature and crime wasn’t some glossy, straightforward comic book plot. It was messy, unpredictable, and frequently lethal.


    “Jade,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose as her plans raced ahead at a speed that made my head spin. “Do you even have a travel plan? Fighting skills? Escape strategies? Equipment? Anything? You’d get yourself killed in five minutes, tops.”


    But she wasn’t deterred. “Fine,” she said, grinning like she’d just handed me an irresistible deal. “You don’t have to be a sidekick. You can be my partner. But I’m still in charge.” Her tone was so confident, so self-assured, that for a brief, insane moment, I wondered if she truly believed this could work.


    I fought the urge to roll my eyes so hard they might’ve stuck. Her naivety was almost—almost—endearing, if it weren’t also incredibly dangerous. She was treating this like some kind of game, while I was busy picturing all the ways this could go catastrophically wrong.


    “Jade London,” I said finally, my voice firm. “This isn’t a joke. It’s not fun. And it’s definitely not something you just wing because you read a few comics. People get hurt—or worse.”


    She tilted her head, clearly unimpressed by my warning. “That’s why we’d be careful. And besides, it’s not about fun. It’s about doing what’s right.” She raised her waxy fist like a true superhero.


    I sighed, leaning back and staring at the ceiling, silently praying for patience. She was stubborn, ambitious, and dangerously idealistic—a combination that could only spell trouble. If I didn’t figure out how to talk her down soon, she might actually try this madness on her own.


    And then what?


    I shook my head, lost in thought.


    Jade’s impulsive suggestion, as ludicrous as it sounded, had stirred something in me. The truth was, I had been contemplating something similar. If I wanted to level up—to gain access to the secrets hidden in the fabric of this fractured timeline—I’d need to do something bigger. Something riskier. Whether it was on the hero side or the villain side didn’t matter as much as positioning myself to understand the undercurrents the original time traveler was creating.


    I already had one foot in the villain camp, thanks to my recent run-in with Confounder. That door was half cracked open, waiting for me to step through. But taking a chance on the hero side… well, that could offer a fresh perspective. Insight from both sides of the coin could be invaluable. Maybe Jade’s impulsive suggestion wasn’t as ridiculous as it first seemed, even if her comic book approach to it was na?ve.


    “Please, please, please,” Jade begged, her voice rising in dramatic crescendo. Her pleading might have been endearing if it weren’t so transparent, but it wasn’t what would sway me. No, her thrill-seeking motives were far removed from my own. She was in it for the adrenaline rush, the idea of playing hero like some grand adventure, while I had far more serious reasons.


    Then it hit me, a realization that made me pause mid-refusal. Jade’s meta nature—her ability to bend randomness itself—was precisely what I needed. The very thing that made her dangerous, her casual disregard for the rules that governed the rest of us, could be the key to solving my problems. Half of my hurdles, if not all of them, could be leveled with her help. I just needed to figure out how to channel her chaotic energy into something productive.


    I looked at her again, this time not as a reckless force of chaos, but as an unlikely asset. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. If handled correctly, it could even be brilliant.


    “Alright,” I said, my tone measured and deliberate. “We can do it.”


    Jade’s face lit up like a firework, her earlier pleading morphing into triumphant delight. She practically vibrated with excitement, ready to launch into what I knew would be an elaborate victory dance. But before she could get started, I raised a hand to stop her.


    “Hold on,” I said firmly. “Before you start planning our outfits or naming us something ridiculous, hear me out. If we go in with your flimsy plan, we’ll be doomed before we even start.”


    That stopped her in her tracks, though her grin didn’t falter. She perched on the edge of the sofa, eager but attentive. I continued, leaning forward to emphasize my point.


    “This isn’t a game,” I said bluntly. “It’s not some comic book adventure where everything works out in the end. We’re talking about real danger—life-and-death stakes. If we’re going to do this, we need serious preparation. Equipment, strategy, intel… and discipline.”


    Her grin faltered slightly at the word discipline, but I pressed on. “If you’re not ready to put in the work—real work—then this isn’t happening.”


    Jade tilted her head, considering my words. “Okay,” she said after a beat, her tone uncharacteristically sober. “So what’s the plan?”


    "I’ll be the boss," I added firmly, letting the weight of my tone make it clear there was no room for negotiation. "You’ll be the sidekick."


    The smile slid off Jade’s face faster than rain on a window. Her lower lip jutted out in a pout so familiar it almost made me smile—almost. But what caught my attention more were her silver eyes, now glinting with a steely resolve.


    “Partner,” she muttered stubbornly, crossing her arms. Her voice was laced with indignation. “I need to be at least an equal. It was my idea, after all.”


    I sighed internally, knowing this wouldn’t be an easy battle. “You’re too impulsive,” I said, leaning forward slightly to drive my point home. “You need someone to reel you in, to make sure you don’t get us both killed.”


    “And you’re too cautious,” she shot back without missing a beat. “You need someone to push you forward. That’s why we work as equals.”


    The back-and-forth continued for a solid five minutes, neither of us willing to give an inch. But Jade was relentless, and I could feel myself wearing down with every impassioned rebuttal she fired my way. She was impossible to reason with sometimes—or maybe, annoyingly, she had a point.


    “Fine,” I sighed finally, rubbing my temples. “Partners it is.”


    Her triumphant grin returned in full force, lighting up her face like a child who’d just been promised unlimited candy. I didn’t share her enthusiasm, but at least we were past the debate. For now.


    “Are you free today?” I asked, steering the conversation back toward logistics.


    “Yes,” she replied, though her voice was tentative, as if she wasn’t quite sure where I was going with this.


    “Good. Meet me at the academy in an hour,” I instructed, my tone brooking no argument.


    She nodded, visibly eager, but before she could launch into more questions, I ended the call swiftly. Leaning back in my chair, I exhaled deeply. This partnership was going to be equal parts exhilarating and exhausting. But if I could channel her energy effectively, there was a chance this insane plan might actually work. Maybe.


    <hr>


    I quickly showered and changed into casual clothes—a pair of jeans and an oversized blue sweater. It was simple, functional, and good enough for a day of unpredictable plans. The commute from home to the academy would take about thirty minutes, so I grabbed qbit, tucked it securely in my pocket, and made my way to the nearest subway station. The train ride was uneventful. When I arrived, I waited by the academy entrance, scanning the area. It was strange that Jade, of all people, was running late. Shouldn’t she be extra excited and already here, bouncing on her toes? I checked the time again, starting to wonder if I’d misjudged her enthusiasm. But just as impatience started to creep in, she appeared.


    “Sorry for being late,” she said as she approached, slightly out of breath. “I had some things to finish at home.”


    I waved it off. “No big deal.” There was no point in dwelling on it—what’s done was done. As she stood near me, I took a moment to subtly size her up. Jade was dressed a little cuter than usual, with a casual yet put-together outfit, her makeup light but noticeable. There was even a faint blush on her cheeks that I hadn’t seen before, though whether it was from rushing or something else, I couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered—she always looked fabulous, but today, there was something slightly different, almost... flustered.


    “Let’s go,” I said, breaking the momentary silence. We turned back toward the train station, where I led her onto the platform. The train was my preferred method of travel—cheaper, faster, and far less of a hassle than driving.


    “Where are we going?” Jade asked as we found our seats, her tone light but curious.


    I glanced at the route map on the screen inside the train, studying it briefly. “The West District,” I replied slowly.


    From my vague recollections, I remembered the West District was under the control of a well-known figure, a man with the power to alter the atoms and properties of materials. His influence extended well beyond his own territory, and his reputation had cemented him as a key player in the meta world. The district itself was the smallest, with a population of just a few million, but it was unique. It served as a hub for metas focused on creativity and innovation in science, technology, and engineering.


    Here, people were rumored to be inventing new technologies, materials, chemicals—pushing the boundaries of what had once seemed impossible. These metas were largely responsible for humanity reaching a Type 2 civilization within three centuries, a feat that would have been unimaginable under normal circumstances.


    Jade leaned back in her seat, clearly intrigued but also apprehensive. “So, what exactly are we doing there?”


    “You’ll see,” I said cryptically.


    But suddenly, my attention was caught by Jade''s hair—a change so subtle, yet it threw me off. It was shorter now, barely skimming her shoulders. I couldn’t help but wonder: why did she change it so often? The question dug at me, lingering quietly, unanswered. She must have noticed me staring because her hand drifted up almost unconsciously, her fingers brushing the freshly cut ends with an easy, casual gesture.


    “They’re natural,” she said softly, as if that made perfect sense in a world where ''natural'' had lost all meaning.


    Something about the moment unsettled me.


    Everything was shifting, slipping beyond my grasp, and I hated it. My thoughts, my emotions—once neatly compartmentalized—were scattering like leaves in a gale, drawn inexorably toward her. She was the star, and I, the debris, caught in her orbit with no escape.


    But even in the pull of her gravity, the knowledge of what the end of the path held lurked like a shadow. When the cycle reset, we would become strangers once again. All these carefully woven moments between us—each one delicate as spun glass—would unravel with the inevitability of time itself. Like a sweater catching on a nail, leaving behind nothing but the loose threads of a life we almost shared.


    To most, these timeline resets were nothing more than a flicker in the void, their memories wiped clean like chalk from a blackboard. They moved forward, blissfully unaware, untouched by the repetition. But for me—cursed with remembering—it was a different story. The more I tethered myself to this fragile reality, the deeper the inevitable cut when it all unraveled. Each reset was a cruel reversal, like watching a polaroid dissolve into blankness, faces and connections erasing themselves in a slow, agonizing fade.


    If I was honest with myself, I knew the source of my struggle. Something about us—our meta-natures—was broken, a flaw that amplified everything—my emotions, her presence—to an unbearable intensity.


    It was as though the universe had twisted the dial on our existence, pushing us to the brink of feeling too much.


    What baffled me, though, was why I wasn’t stopping myself. I could have pulled back, built some kind of wall to protect myself from this spiral. But I didn’t. I kept moving toward her, letting the threads of our connection tighten even as I knew they’d eventually snap. Did I enjoy it? This self-inflicted pain? Was I addicted to the intensity, the way it burned through me, even knowing it would destroy me in the end?


    By the time we emerged from the underground station, I was still wrestling with my own thoughts. Sunlight hit us immediately, a dazzling contrast to the dim, crowded tunnels below. Towering skyscrapers surrounded us, their reflective glass catching the clouds and light, cutting into the sky like blades. It was a busy hub, a constant flow of people moving purposefully in every direction, crossing streets and filling sidewalks in steady streams.


    Out of some unknown instinct, I grabbed Jade’s hand so we wouldn’t get separated, guiding her through the crowd until we found some space.


    Finally clear of the rush, I glanced back, momentarily overwhelmed by the crowd’s energy. Then I noticed the soft pressure in my palm. I glanced down, suddenly remembering I was still holding Jade''s hand. Her fingers had intertwined with mine, neither pulling away nor holding tight—just existing in that space between casual and intimate. I quickly released her hand, trying to ignore the lingering warmth, not wanting to make things awkward.


    “It’s a twenty-minute walk from here,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than I’d intended.


    Jade just nodded, her attention somewhere else. She was looking up at the towering buildings, her silver eyes reflecting the light as if she were seeing them for the first time. They were impressive, sure—monuments to human ambition. But they weren’t exactly on the same level as terraforming a planet. Still, I let her marvel at them.


    We moved through the streets, the noise and energy of the city fading the further we went. Eventually, we found ourselves in a narrow, empty alley that felt like it hadn’t been touched in decades. There was trash scattered around, broken pieces of debris leaning against crumbling walls. Only thin streaks of sunlight managed to squeeze in between the buildings, giving the whole place a damp, forgotten feel.


    “This place is seriously creepy. Are you sure this is the right spot?” Jade asked, her voice carrying an edge of suspicion as she glanced around.


    “It’s close,” I said, scanning the alley. “We’re almost there.”


    After a bit more searching, we found it—a small, worn-out door that looked like it belonged in another era. Stepping inside felt like entering a completely different world. Soft jazz played faintly from an old radio, the notes crackling slightly with static. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and dust, and the dim lighting cast long, flickering shadows over shelves that seemed to go on forever.


    Behind the counter stood an old man, probably in his nineties. He moved slow but steady, with a kind of deliberate grace. His sharp eyes flicked up at us for a brief moment before returning to whatever he was doing. The shop had a strange atmosphere—cozy and unnerving all at once.


    I wasn’t here for the vibe, though. This place had a reputation, and not for its charm. The weapons and gear it sold were the stuff of legend, known only to those who knew where to look.


    I hadn’t stumbled on it by accident, either. During the first cycle, I’d come here with someone else. That visit had stayed lodged in my memory—fragments of it, at least. Enough to pull me back now, hoping I could find what I needed.


    And as I stood there, surrounded by dust and shadows, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of déjà vu, like the past was brushing up against the edges of the present.