"Ah. Today's the day. The day I enter the Tower."
Memories stirred. He remembered this day vividly—seventeen, terrified, headed into the Tower Association. He grimaced.
He couldn't afford to deviate from the past. Not yet. Any change might ripple outward, altering the future in unpredictable ways. The butterfly effect, or so he once heard.
For now, he would mimic his younger self's steps exactly. And once his footing was secure, once he held power in his hands again… he would twist the future into something unrecognizable.
He washed up quickly, then rummaged through the wardrobe for a worn set of clothes. A piece of stale bread, toasted and buttered, became his breakfast. He ate slowly, savoring each bite.
On the upper floors of the Tower, he had survived for months on strips of dried monster meat, until taste itself had dulled. Now, in this younger body, every mouthful felt vivid and alive.
Stepping out of the apartment, he stretched his arms wide and drew in a deep breath.
Fresh air. Sunlight. The city before the Tower had taken him from it..
"How nostalgic…" he whispered, a rare smile lighting his face.
Ten years—he'd been gone ten years without seeing it, yet here it was again. But while a smile tugged at Avis's lips, the people around him wore dark, heavy expressions. Their moods seemed as gray as the sky.
He shoved his way through the bustling afternoon crowd. Horns blared as he cut across a busy street against the light. Someone shouted at him, but he didn't bother looking back. He was too excited to finally be home.
A flicker of motion caught his eye. Instinct moved before thought—his hand shot out, seizing a wrist mid-pickpocket. The would-be thief, a scrawny man with jittery eyes, froze as if he'd grabbed hold of stone. Avis could feel the man's pulse hammering beneath his grip.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Avis smiled, shaking his head. His lips curved innocently, but his eyes remained cold and dead. "Do I really look that easy to target now? Back then, people avoided me like the plague… wait. I guess technically it's the future, isn't it?"
The thief twisted free, nearly landing a wild punch before stumbling back. Avis stared down at his small hands with disappointment.
I can't even fend off someone like him… I've got a lot of catching up to do.
He sighed as the man bolted down the street. Then he glanced at his other hand—and grinned.
Still capable of this much, though.
Nestled in his palm were not one, but two wallets: his own, and the thief's.
Inside the stolen wallet sat three crisp hundred-dollar bills. It felt like striking gold. He hadn't seen cash like this in years. Inside the Tower, money was an entirely different thing.
Avis flagged down a taxi and slid inside. "Tower Association," he told the driver.
The man hesitated, giving him a wary glance, but said nothing. Soon they were on the highway.
In the distance, the Tower loomed. Vast, endless, its peak pierced the clouds—too high for human eyes to follow. Avis watched it in silence as the car sped on.
They arrived at last. The Tower Association headquarters rose like a sentinel at the end of the block: sleek, slate-gray, and stamped with a spiral tower emblem. People avoided this place if they could. Everyone knew why.
When the Tower Symptoms struck, your days on Earth were over. Stepping through those doors meant saying goodbye—possibly forever.
Avis whistled a tune as he pushed through the glass entrance. The air-conditioned lobby reeked faintly of sweat and disinfectant. The receptionist looked up, her smile faltering at the sight of him.
He seemed far too carefree. Most who walked in trembled with fear or desperation. Avis, however, strolled to the desk like he was checking into a luxury hotel, a lazy smirk playing at his lips.
The assassin in him, though, catalogued every guard, every exit, every angle of the room.
"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked. Her voice was polite, but tinged with pity. Her gaze flicked to the dark eyebags beneath his eyes.
"Yeah, I'm experiencing the tower symptom." He said grinning as if he'd won a prize. "The voice, I've been hearing it for a while now."
The words drew a ripple of silence across the lobby. A few people waiting nearby turned to stare. The receptionist's smile disappeared.
"I see," she said quietly. "How clear is the voice, and how long have you been hearing it?"
It had been only hours since his return, but the words were burned into him as though carved into bone.
[The Tower Calls For You.]
A voice that never belonged to this world, echoing from somewhere behind the mind. When the Tower chose you, it began there. At first, no one believed it… until the disappearances began.
He shifted his weight, rocking back on his heels. "Let's see… counting from the date and what I can remember… about a week? And right now, it's as clear as if you said it yourself."
Her eyes widened. For a moment, the receptionist's mask slipped.
"A week? Most disappear within a few days… no, that's not the point." She pushed her glasses higher, forcing her composure back into place. "If it's that clear, you know what that means… don't you?"
He almost laughed—if only she knew how well. Instead, he gave a single curt nod. "I don't have much time left."
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, just for a moment, before resuming. His bluntness had unsettled her. He couldn't blame her; most seventeen-year-olds in his shoes would be clinging to hope or breaking down in tears.
But Avis wasn't like the others his age. He looked like someone eager to move the process along, not someone afraid of what came next. If she knew what truly awaited him inside the Tower, she might think him insane for not bolting in the other direction.
"Alright," she said at last, sliding a form across the counter. "Please fill this out."
He scribbled down his details and handed it back. She typed them in, stored the file, and gestured to the chairs.
"Please take a seat for a moment."