The Background Character Loop: One Last Chance to Break the Cycle Chapter 8: My Love Language Is Stalking (But Only for Plot R

[MC's POV]

I let out a long sigh.

Today was exhausting.

But at the sa ti, it was... strangely satisfying.

For once, the world didn't punish for ddling in the lives of the main characters.

Well... my plan for today actually went pretty well.

I successfully planted a GPS tracker on Luna's uniform, gave her a self-defense weapon, and reminded her not to go out tonight.

Everything should be safe now.

It should be...

My steps slowed down.

Should I monitor her house tonight...?

No, no. Co on, C. Don't be paranoid. That's overkill.

If she finds out, I might ruin everything between us.

I really don't want her to keep calling a weirdo.

Or worse... a stalker.

But... if it's to protect the main characters and make sure the loop doesn't repeat...

Then I'll do anything.

Anything.

I've failed too many tis.

I can't let this be another reset where I lose her again.

Suddenly, I felt it.

A strange tremor pulsed through the world, like a ripple of energy that didn't belong.

And it triggered sothing deep inside . A mory—

A terrible one.

Wait—what's happening!?

The tremor made my mind feel fuzzy, like I was floating out of sync with reality.

Instinctively, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.

I quickly opened the tracker app—the one I installed earlier to keep an eye on Luna.

The red dot on the screen had stopped.

It was at the street corner near her house.

Without a second thought, I sprinted in that direction.

No hesitation. No second-guessing.

Damn it. Damn it all!

Can't I even get one night of rest!?

This is my fault. I should've thought about this possibility.

I knew it. I knew the world was no longer following the original script.

I should've followed her!

Damn it!

Sothing's wrong.

Luna's in danger.

A horrible image flashed in my mind:

A blonde girl—her hair once shining like sunlight—now lifeless.

Her body full of stab wounds... strangulation marks across her neck...

Whatever happens...

Luna, don't die!

---

[Luna's POV]

The golden sunset bathed everything in a warm, gentle glow as I sat on a bench near the school's empty basketball court.

The wind was gentle.

My blonde hair danced slightly in the breeze, catching the warm light and turning into threads of gold.

I stared into the distance.

Maybe at the orange-tinted clouds, maybe at the tree shadows crawling across the ground.

Maybe... nowhere in particular.

In my hand, I held sothing odd.

A small object given to by that strange boy—the one without a clear face—who calls himself "C."

C...

What was the point of this thing again?

I already had a small knife for self-defense.

If the goal was to blind soone, then pepper spray would've made more sense.

Ugh... whatever.

I should probably just head ho.

I slipped the object into my bag.

Who knows, maybe it will be useful soday.

The late afternoon felt so peaceful.

The sun gently ward my cheeks as I began walking toward the school gate.

But then...

That peace shattered in an instant.

My eyes happened to glance toward the gate.

And there, among the crowd of students heading ho, stood a man.

He imdiately made feel uneasy—like his presence didn't belong.

He was tall and rough-looking, with faint tattoos peeking out from beneath his worn-out sleeves.

He walked with a swagger that scread arrogance.

And the look in his eyes... it was wrong.

He scanned the area like he was looking for trouble.

And when his eyes landed on —

I felt sick.

My heartbeat sped up.

My breath caught in my throat.

Maybe he was just a normal student with bad fashion sense...

But sothing about him—his silhouette, his aura—felt threatening.

I didn't even realize my hand was already reaching for the object C gave earlier.

mories ca rushing in.

Blurry flashes of my childhood.

A rough hand grabbing .

Voices yelling.

That crushing fear that made freeze.

"Thug."

That word echoed in my head.

My childhood trauma exploded without warning.

I gripped the spray tighter in my hand.

My fingers turned pale from how hard I was clutching it.

The world around started to feel sharp and overwhelming.

Colors felt off.

Every shape felt like it was moving too fast or too close.

He hadn't done anything.

He hadn't moved toward .

But my trauma didn't care.

My body rembered things my mind tried so hard to forget.

That kind of fear never really leaves you—it just hides until triggered.

The mories of being kidnapped ca flooding back.

The sll of cigarette smoke.

The cruel laughter.

The way they looked at like I wasn't human.

That guy at the gate beca the shadow of everything I feared.

A living nightmare.

I swallowed hard, trying to stay calm.

I knew I was safe.

This was school. There were people around.

But logic and fear don't always agree with each other.

Not when the fear runs deep.

I looked away from him, trying to pretend he wasn't there.

But even in the corner of my vision, I could still feel him.

That warm, beautiful afternoon had turned bitter.

Tainted by the return of old fears I'd buried long ago.

Then—just beyond the school gate—a sleek black sedan pulled up and stopped smoothly.

The front window rolled down, revealing my private driver's calm face.

Without a mont's hesitation, I rushed toward the car.

Faster than I usually moved.

I opened the back door and jumped in, almost silently.

Desperate to put distance between and him—and everything he reminded of.

My breathing was shaky.

I hated feeling this weak.

I hated that one glance could undo all the strength I'd built.

"Let's just go ho... please," I whispered.

The driver nodded, and the car pulled away.

Outside the window, the streets passed by quietly.

I tried to calm my thoughts by watching the scenery.

I sighed.

Looks like I'll have to follow the advice of C. To not go out tonight.

Today was too much...

I just want to go ho.

But just when I thought the worst was over—

A brown car swerved into view on our left.

Ti slowed down.

My mouth opened slightly, trying to say sothing.

But it was too late.

It hit us—

Hard.

CRASH.