The Background Character Loop: One Last Chance to Break the Cycle Chapter 10: From Saviour To Suspect in 0.2 Seconds

He raised his small dagger, aiming it at C's back. C didn't see it coming.

Shit!

It was a sneak attack—fast and dangerous. A deadly twist that could've ended everything right then and there.

Just before the blade touched his back, C instinctively swung his left hand behind him.

In his hand was an old, dark brown notebook—the one thing in this world that wasn't affected by the loop.

CLANG!

The gangster's blade struck the book with a sharp, tallic clang. Not a scratch. Not even a dent.

Instead, the dagger bounced off like it hit solid steel. The gangster was stunned. That notebook was untouchable—immune to ti, to harm, to fate itself.

C chuckled.

Good thing I had this. This is the 36th ti it saved my life.

Without turning around, C ramd his elbow backward into the gangster's ribs with brutal force. The man scread as the dagger dropped from his hand.

Now holding the gangster's dagger in his right hand and the immortal notebook in his left, C moved like a storm.

He kicked the gangster behind him in the knee, forcing him to kneel in pain.

Then, with swift precision, he slamd the notebook into another thug's head—the man dropped with a loud, dull thud, knocked out cold.

The remaining gangsters stared at their fallen comrades—and at the faceless man who had beco a living nightmare.

Fear crawled onto their faces. Panic set in.

But C didn't give them a chance to run.

He stabbed one in the leg, dropping him to the ground, then slamd another into the pavent, pinning him down. He drove the blade into the ground beside the thug's face—a silent warning.

Now, only one gangster was left conscious, groaning in pain on the asphalt.

C approached him. His body showed no sign of fatigue, as if the entire fight had been nothing.

He crouched silently in front of the man. Not a word ca from his lips.

Only the gangster's panicked, wheezing breath broke the silence.

"Who sent you?" C's voice was low, cold—like a deep echo demanding the truth.

The gangster trembled. He stared at C's faceless expression, but the sheer pressure coming from the man was terrifying.

"I-I... I don't know..."

C didn't move. The silence stretched like a noose. It was pressure distilled into silence.

Eventually, the man cracked.

"Neil Arkes! It was Neil Arkes! He told us to take care of so target... a girl!"

Hearing that na, sothing inside C ignited.

Neil Arkes!

His fists clenched. His blood boiled.

Why would he send gangsters to hit Luna?! Isn't he obsessed with her? Didn't he think she could actually die?!

Damn it, I have to take him out soon. If I don't... I might be stuck in this hellish world forever.

Without hesitation, C's hand moved toward the dagger lying beside the gangster's head—slow, deliberate.

If I let him live, this repeats. If I kill him... I lose more of what's left of . But there's no ti to hesitate.

The man's eyes widened in horror. He tried to scream.

Too late.

The blade pierced quickly and cleanly. Blood splattered onto the ground. The man twitched... then went still.

C stood up, leaving the blade behind.

He looked around at the six bodies lying motionless around him. The fight was over. But he'd gained sothing crucial—information.

---

C was panting as he turned toward Luna's car. It was crushed from the crash. The brown car that hit her had already disappeared—its driver had fled.

He saw Luna sitting on the ground, leaning against the wreckage. She was shaking, eyes full of tears. She looked terrified.

Her face and arms were slashed with cuts, her clothes torn, and bruises blooming across her legs.

Of course she was scared. Luna had a deep trauma when it ca to gangsters and thugs.

C crouched beside her and spoke in a tired voice.

"Luna... do you want to go ho? Or should I call an ambulance to take care of you?"

Luna was still gasping for breath, barely able to speak.

Should I just carry her?

"You're really hurt... and your leg's bruised. Do you want to carry you?" C asked, reaching out a hand.

"Y-You... I should be the one asking that," Luna replied, her voice trembling.

She couldn't understand how he was still standing. Part of her wanted to run. Part of her wanted to hold him.

"Huh?"

"Look at yourself, idiot! You've got cuts all over! Your hands and legs are bruised too. How are you even still standing?!"

C glanced at the cracked car window, seeing his reflection.

Wounds. Blood. Bruises. His faceless head looked more terrifying now.

Strangely, C wasn't even surprised.

"Ah... don't worry, Luna. It's nothing. You know guys are tougher than girls, right? I'll be fine."

"Don't give that macho crap! Give your phone. I'll call my driver to pick you up. Mine got smashed in the crash."

She held out her hand.

C handed her his phone, and she called soone, giving instructions to co quickly.

"How many drivers do you even have, Luna? Are you, like, secretly rich or sothing?" C asked, digging into his bag for a first-aid kit.

"I'm the daughter of a tech CEO," she answered, then noticed the kit in his hand. "Wait—you carry that around every day? That's crazy. Do you have weird stuff in that bag too?"

"Not every day. Just when I get a bad feeling. And weirdly, my gut feelings are always right."

Luna nodded absently, still fiddling with his phone while C patched up his wounds.

Wait... my phone... crap—

"Hey... what is this app?" Luna asked, her voice shaking. Her face suddenly stiffened.

She shoved the screen toward C.

There it was. A red dot, glowing with the words '0 ters' underneath.

The tracking app C used... to follow Luna.

"You... You're my stalker, aren't you?" Her voice trembled with disbelief, then twisted into sothing sharp—disgust.

Cold sweat ran down C's back. His brain kicked into overdrive, working harder than it had during the fight earlier.

Welp... I just screwed myself harder than ever before. Ga over, .