"What ... I... I... died?"
The realization struck Steve like a lightning bolt to the skull—sudden, jarring, and completely uninvited.
He stared at her, dumbfounded, his body tensing, tremors creeping along his spine. His fear wasn't a scream or a panic—it was awe.
"I... I died?" he whispered.
She paused. Her expression didn't shift—not even a twitch.
He searched her face for some trace of mockery, some hint of sarcasm or a smirk playing on her lips. But there was none. Her face was blank and groggy as ever, her tone steady.
She wasn't messing around.
She was serious.
She was dead serious.
Her words were actually trustworthy.
If she somehow knew about the author's notebook, about his plans, and even his recent exchange with Dina… then... maybe she had some cosmic ability, some omniscient access.
'If her words so far have been nothing but the truth... then that'd mean that maybe...just maybe... I really might have died.'
"Are you... are you shitting me?"
