"The Fukuoka Municipal Art Museum in Japan is hosting a photography exhibition themed 'Journey Through Time and Space,' free to the general public, where..."
"The President of the European Council stated on the 23rd that trade wars must cease, and if the United States uses tariffs for political purposes, it will harm the entire world. The White House Press Secretary responded that increased tariffs were merely the prelude to more severe sanctions..."
"The Russian Navy will test-fire its 'Deep Space' ballistic missile today..."
"Cygnetech held its IPO at the New York Stock Exchange today at 9:30 AM local time, with Victor and his wife both attending the event. This reportedly marks the first public appearance of Victor's wife..."
Victor?
The news blasted away every trace of drowsiness. I sat upright, desperate to hear more. But—
Click.
The old scavenger had turned off the radio.
"What the hell—"
I started to speak, but then noticed the old man was staring at me.
His face was contorted, veins bulging on his forehead, eyes bloodshot.
"Are you okay, old man?"
His face had turned crimson, as if someone were strangling him. After a long moment, he forced out a single sentence.
But the tone was unlike anything he'd said to me in months.
No longer broken up by "mm" and "ah" sounds—steadfast and fierce, like an oath.
"Time... has come."
"What time?"
"Complete... your... mission."
"What?"
"Go to the old place... find the old friend... complete your mission!"
The old man dropped to his knees, slamming his forehead against the ground with all his might.
Boom!
This was no ordinary bow.
That force looked like a suicide attempt.
Boom!
Boom!
"What are you doing!" I rushed forward and shoved him onto his back.
He lay on the ground, blood spattering from his forehead, spreading across his face like a crimson spider's web.
He suddenly started giggling. "Smashed my head... now it doesn't hurt anymore." "Mm..."
"Hah!"
"Mm..."
"Hmm..."
"Sir,"
"Mm mm..."
"I finally... mm, delivered the message."
"Mm, hah, hahahaha!"
Sunlight filtered through the gaps between the gray buildings, falling on his gaunt, filthy face.
"The timeline... is saved."
He smiled with pure joy.
Utterly unrestrained.
---
58
Midnight. Torrential rain.
I stood before a heavy iron door.
This was the laboratory where I'd completed my first time travel—the artificial wormhole inside was now known as Gate Zero, the first temporal gateway in the world. Because the technology was outdated, the Gate was no longer in service, and the entire lab had been converted into a museum for pilgrims.
After the old scavenger spoke those words, he reverted to his usual addled state. No matter how I pressed him—what old place, what old friend—he couldn't give me a clear answer.
But he'd said "mission"...
That word couldn't be mistaken.
The mission was Project Rebirth.
Thinking it over, the only "old place" connected to Project Rebirth I could think of was this lab. And if my guess was right, the old friend would already be waiting for me inside.
I stepped forward and stood before the door.
The lab had long been closed, and its surroundings still maintained the look of the abandoned factory district from years ago.
Half-meter pipes crisscrossed the roads, occasional breaks releasing hissing steam.
The factory buildings stood in rows like coffins.
Rain poured in sheets.
Suddenly, the iron door opened.
Behind it stood a hunchbacked, lame old man, slowly stepping forward.
A flash of lightning.
I made out the old man's face. Only the left half appeared normal—the right half had a shut eye, a drooping mouth, and seemed to drool continuously.
Even so, I recognized him.
"Master?"
This hunched old man was none other than Captain Reeves, former head of the Southside District Police Department.
Though he was now ravaged by illness beyond recognition.
He nodded slowly.
"You... these past few years... must have been hard."
My master's ability to speak had been severely impaired—his words came painfully slow, his articulation unclear.
The thunder finally rolled in. Like grinding gears in a vast timeline.
---
59
"Didn't you join Project Rebirth?"
I spoke softly, but the mockery in my voice was unmistakable.
"...I thought you Project Rebirth people lived in luxury, safe from all misfortune."
Master didn't answer. A smile crossed his ravaged face, made terrible by illness.
"Say something, Master? I've been wanting to hear why you joined Project Rebirth, why you turned against me."
I walked up to him.
He looked like a dying lamp, flickering and ready to go out.
But I held back my pity for him.
Because I had too many questions. "You said it was to let Master's wife live..."
"That excuse might work for anyone else, but from you, I don't buy it."
For two years, I'd been waiting to confront him, to demand why he'd turned against me, why he'd submitted to Victor, why he'd chosen to become a villain.
Look—what good did becoming a villain do?
What good did joining Project Rebirth do?
You still ended up like this? "You were the chief of the Southside District police. You were the most hated enemy of every criminal in Southside."
"In your heart, anyone could die, but justice had to live!" Master still didn't answer.
Or perhaps, in his current condition, he simply couldn't respond to my accusations. Reeves...
How did you end up like this?
So old, so broken.
That confrontation in 2007—I never accepted it.
I was waiting for a final showdown with you.
But...
Victor treated you poorly, didn't he, Master? Tell me, and I'll fight for you.
Master, with what emotion should I face you...
"Master..."
"Answer me."
I lowered my head, my eyes burning.
But I clenched my teeth, swallowing every trace of weakness.
I grabbed Master by the collar.
"Answer me, dammit!"
Just then, a cool female voice rang out from the shadows behind him.
"Marcus, have you forgotten?"
From the darkness, thirty-year-old Jessica stepped slowly into view.
A black dress, slender, tall, light makeup.
"Everything he did was your arrangement."