"Why did you pick that particular mont in ti to rewind to? It's like choosing the worst ti to save the ga," Burn quipped as he plopped himself at the edge of the bed, right beside a visibly distressed Morgan.
"I'm sorry…" Morgan mumbled, her face hidden behind her hands. “It wasn’t , it was Future-…”
"It's still you," Burn pointed out.
“Yeah…”
Burn understood the complexity of ti travel. Morgan couldn't just pinpoint any old mont like picking a random page from a book to return to. But the mont she did pick was, well... inconvenient.
“There might be two reasons why I chose this point…” Morgan began, “First, because this mont might be so important and crucial to the tiline, or…”
"Even if that's true, why not pick a less embarrassing mont? Like yesterday, when it was just us?" Burn sighed, interrupting her.
“...or, maybe, because I didn’t have enough soul energy to pick a better mont—like I said, I’m sorry!”
Their words overlapped, yet they understood each other.
“So, you’re saying,” Burn took a deep breath, “that my public humiliation is so sort of pivotal mont?”
“What if it’s because we need to rewind this loop so much, and I was just trying to conserve soul energy? Uuuuggh whyy…” Morgan groaned, smacking Burn's forearm repeatedly, a mix of regret and embarrassnt punctuating each hit.
Cute.
Fucking cute.
Burn actually didn’t mind.
He didn’t mind at all, but he didn’t want her to catch him smiling rembering it. He made sure to keep his amusent hidden. No need to fuel Morgan's guilty conscience with his smirk.
"I can't change it," Morgan forced herself to sit up, her eyes brimming with worry as she faced Burn. "Each ti, you're going to feel the pain—"
Burn's frown cut her off, causing her to falter. She didn’t actually care about the embarrassnt, but she was most regretful for the pain he would have to endure with each cycle of the loop.
"Forget that," Burn said, his tone oddly calm and completely out of character for him. "We have bigger fish to fry, right?"
"That's why, Caliburn," Morgan's eyes welled up again with tears. "It's about you…"
They were going to die together.
Sothing big was coming. It was big enough to be able to kill them together, and it was impossible to know what it was at this point in ti. But they could guess.
"What do you think will happen?" Morgan questioned, her tone heavy with concern.
"Nothing in the previous loops could kill , Morgan," Burn said with an air of nonchalance. "All we have are the endless 'What ifs?' that co with ssing around with tilines."
Upon seeing Morgan's expression shift, Burn was quick to catch on. "What's up? You got a theory?"
Looking up at him, her eyes glistening and lashes damp, she admitted, "The tiline you know is gone, Caliburn. Now that I'm here..."
Burn propped his left hand on the bed next to Morgan's right thigh, his posture directly face-to-face with her as he leaned in closer. "What are you hinting at? That you’re bound to betray ?"
The nature of their curse was a bit like a forced, bad marriage—betrayal was off the table. That's why Caliburn couldn't go rogue, and Morgan had no choice but to stick with him.
Despite being stuck in this cursed spell, they were two separate entities with their distinct ideologies. Morgan was on a mission to save as many souls as possible from him, while Caliburn was busy playing 'I want it all' on repeat.
Caliburn had picked up a thing or two from the last loop. For instance, Morgan would jump to her death if it ant saving soone—anyone. He wasn’t special.
She had saved him, sure, but it made more sense to her to bite the bullet herself than to let him bear the burden of the loops. Plus, she probably wanted to avoid the White Dwarf going on a rampage in the heart of bustling Elysian capital.
Yvain and the rest of the populace were still there. Better to hit the rewind button than to let things play out and risk more casualties.
After all, she could.
So, chances were, in so future scenario, if she saw the body count climbing too high, she'd betray him and caused them to die—forcing the loop to reset.
But all his ntal gymnastics ca to an abrupt halt when he noticed the woman in front of him. Her gaze was fixed on him—a look of hurt etched across her features.
Caliburn figured she would've grown accustod to his cynical nature by now. He was a suspicious and pragmatic guy. It was second nature for him to assu the worst of those around him. Hell, he even had a knack for blatantly voicing his suspicions in a joking ‘manner’.
He was mostly joking.
"Sure."
"If you interpret my shoving you out of harm's way as betrayal in the last loop," Morgan let out a soft sigh. She leaned against the bed and turned away. In a whisper, she added, "I might do it again."
Burn felt bad.
He couldn’t even speak for a solid five second, his mind blank.
Her golden blonde hair splayed across the pillow, her face turned away just enough to make it hard to read her fully. But he could. Even in profile, he could see the reflection in her eyes—glossy and vulnerable. Her lips were set in a firm line and her nose had a telltale reddish hue.
His cruel joke, born out of harsh life lessons, had hurt her—yet again. First, because he couldn't stand her weakness—her refusal to kill him. Then, because she'd forgiven him so easily, ready to play by his rules.
And now…
He couldn't lie to himself, couldn't pretend he didn't see the hurt that his words had etched into her.
"Then, what are you implying?" Burn queried.
"There's things in this world that could kill you," she replied, "Killing you doesn't necessarily an defeating you. I’m sure it’s harder than that."
"You're one of those things that can kill , aren't you?" Burn reminded her.
"But what if it wasn't about killing you, but we simply perished along with 'it'?" Morgan posed.
"By 'it', are you referring to the world?" he asked, because frankly, there was nothing else colossal enough that, upon its destruction, could also kill him.
"The White Dwarf," Morgan clarified. "It was officially stolen from the Alliance, wasn't it?"
The Alliance was probably already on its tail, aware that it was still sowhere on the ground. And the most likely suspect? None other than Burn himself.
"I've thought of the possibilities," Burn stated.
Morgan shook her head. "There are still too many to count. You haven't faced this specific situation before."
What she was implying was that all they could do was to observe and wait. They would need to die and loop back in order to know the future, after all.
Morgan gave his arm a light tap. "Now that you understand, move aside."
Her lying there beneath him, waiting patiently for him to move—this was sothing he loathed. The vulnerability, the weakness, the agreeability. Yet, in this mont, he was tempted to be bad and simply refuse to move.
He moved.
Rising to his feet, he fully expected for her imminent departure from his room. Much to his surprise, instead of getting up, she rolled to the other side of the bed. His gaze dropped at the sight of this cosmical gorgeous being rolling amidst his sheets.
With the clear intention of settling down for the night, Morgan tugged at his blanket and slipped underneath. She then shot him a sharp, angry glance and said, “You ripped my dress apart. Fetch a new one.”
Suddenly, his throat felt dry.
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