Scarlett gasped.
Air rushed violently into her lungs as if she had just surfaced from drowning. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her fingers trembling so hard she had to grip the edge of the table to steady herself.
For a moment, she didn't know where she was.
Then the world snapped back into place.
The café. The sunlight. The faint hum of traffic. The smell of coffee.
Reality.
But her mind—
Her mind was still trapped in that vision.
That moment.
That death.
Her death.
A crushing impact. A shadow swallowing everything. The feeling of bones breaking before she could even react.
It hadn't been imagination.
It had been clear.
Too clear.
Scarlett's lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Her throat felt dry, her thoughts tangled in panic.
Death… had already started.
Not later.
Not "eventually."
Now.
Right now.
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up.
"Lucien—"
"Your cappuccino, and your caramel macchiato, madam."
The interruption was so sudden it almost felt unreal.
The waitress placed the cups on the table with a polite smile, completely unaware that, in Scarlett's perception, the world had just ended seconds ago.
The smell of coffee hit her senses sharply.
Warm.
Normal.
Ordinary.
And that made it worse.
"Lucien, we need to leave," Scarlett said quickly, her voice tight, controlled—but barely.
She stood up abruptly.
Too abruptly.
Her elbow struck the table.
The cups tipped.
Coffee spilled.
Time seemed to slow.
Scarlett's eyes widened.
This…
This was the beginning.
Exactly the same.
The liquid spread across the table, dripping onto her clothes. The warmth soaked through the fabric, pressing against her skin.
Her mind screamed.
No.
No, this is wrong—
She stepped back instinctively, trying to avoid further mess, but her movement knocked into the plastic chair behind her.
The chair tilted.
Fell.
Then began sliding slowly across the slightly sloped pavement toward the road.
Scarlett's pupils shrank.
This was it.
This was the chain.
The exact same chain she had seen.
Her breathing stopped.
And then—
A hand caught the chair.
Firmly.
Effortlessly.
The movement was so precise, so timely, that for a moment Scarlett didn't even register it.
She looked up slowly.
Lucien Blackwood stood there, one hand resting casually on the back of the chair, as if stopping it had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Her mind blanked.
When did he move?
She hadn't seen him stand.
Hadn't seen him step away.
It was as if he had simply… appeared there.
Before she could process it, a familiar sound reached her ears.
A faint whistle.
The low hum of an approaching motorcycle.
Scarlett's heart clenched.
The delivery rider.
It was happening again.
Without the chair rolling into the road, the sequence should have been broken—
So why—
A scream suddenly cut through the air.
Scarlett turned sharply.
A group of young people had stepped into the street, laughing, completely unaware of the incoming motorcycle.
The rider panicked.
His body jerked.
His grip slipped.
The pizza box flew out.
Scarlett's breath caught.
No—
Even without the chair, it continued.
The chain was adapting.
Adjusting.
Correcting itself.
The pizza spun mid-air, the box flipping open as it separated, dough and toppings exposed.
Then—
Wind.
A sudden gust.
Scarlett's eyes locked onto it.
This was the moment.
In her vision, that gust had carried the pizza forward—straight into the truck's windshield.
That single obstruction had triggered everything.
The crash.
The destruction.
Her death.
But this time—
The pizza moved differently.
It drifted forward—
Then abruptly shifted direction.
As if something invisible had struck it.
The trajectory changed.
Not natural.
Not random.
Controlled.
Scarlett froze.
Her mind raced.
That wasn't luck.
That wasn't coincidence.
That was interference.
Her gaze snapped back toward Lucien.
Just in time to see him slowly lower his hand.
Calm.
Unbothered.
Like someone finishing a trivial task.
Her breath hitched.
The pizza fell harmlessly to the side of the road.
The motorcycle swerved but didn't crash.
The truck passed through the intersection normally.
No honking.
No collision.
No chaos.
The world… continued.
Peaceful.
Unchanged.
As if death itself had been denied entry.
Scarlett stood there, completely still.
The chain had been broken.
Not avoided.
Not delayed.
Broken.
Her thoughts struggled to keep up.
Who… did that?
Deep down, she already knew the answer.
"Stop looking," Lucien said casually as he walked back toward the table. "It's me."
The simplicity of his tone made it even more surreal.
Scarlett stared at him.
Her lips parted slightly.
A faint breeze brushed past her face—
Then stopped.
Abruptly.
Like something had just been cut off mid-motion.
"It really was you…" she whispered.
Lucien didn't respond immediately. He simply picked up the fallen chair, set it upright, and sat down again as if nothing extraordinary had just happened.
Inside, however, his thoughts were far from calm.
He had expected resistance.
He had expected the "pattern" to push back.
But this—
This level of immediate correction confirmed his suspicion.
Whatever this thing was… it wasn't just a passive force.
It adapted.
It recalculated.
And more importantly—
It noticed.
Lucien exhaled slowly.
Good.
That made things more interesting.
Across from him, Scarlett suddenly leaned forward, her earlier fear replaced by something else entirely.
Curiosity.
Raw, unfiltered curiosity.
"Is the talisman real?" she asked quickly.
Lucien glanced at her.
"Of course it is."
"And what you just did—" she continued, her words coming faster now, "that wasn't normal. That wasn't coincidence."
"No."
"Are you from… some kind of monastery?" she pressed. "Like Shaolin? I've seen movies—people with abilities like that—"
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not a monk," he said flatly. "And I'm definitely not from Shaolin."
Scarlett blinked.
"Oh."
He took a sip of coffee.
"I'm just an antique dealer."
There was a brief silence.
Then—
"Was that ability natural? Or did you learn it?" she asked again.
"Learned."
Scarlett froze.
"…Learned?"
"Yes."
"Wait—so that means—" she leaned forward even more, eyes wide, "anyone can learn it?"
Lucien gave her a look.
"No."
"Oh."
She paused.
Then, without missing a beat—
"Can you get married?"
Lucien choked slightly on his coffee.
"What?"
"I mean—if you get married, do you lose your abilities? Like some kind of restriction? Or—"
"Stop."
He put the cup down.
Scarlett blinked, then suddenly realized what she had just said.
"…Sorry."
For the first time since arriving, she looked slightly embarrassed.
"I got carried away."
Lucien waved it off.
"It's fine."
He had expected skepticism.
Fear.
Resistance.
But this?
This shift into curiosity meant one thing—
She believed him now.
Completely.
And that was exactly what he needed.
Scarlett leaned back slightly, her thoughts settling.
Then something clicked.
Her expression changed.
"Wait…"
She frowned.
"How did you know?"
Lucien looked at her.
"The pizza," she said slowly. "The sequence depended on that exact chain reaction. I only knew because I saw it beforehand."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"But you… reacted before it happened."
A pause.
"…Did you see it too?"
Lucien shook his head.
"No."
"Then how—"
"That doesn't matter," he interrupted calmly.
Scarlett went quiet.
Lucien leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady.
"What matters," he said, "is that the first attempt failed."
He reached into his pocket and placed a small stack of talismans on the table.
Scarlett stared at them.
"These are—"
"The same as before," he said. "But more."
She hesitated for a moment, then took them.
The moment her fingers touched the paper, that same faint sense of calm returned.
Not overwhelming.
But real.
Lucien watched her carefully.
"Right now," he continued, "it will take time for it to reorganize the sequence."
Scarlett looked up.
"So I'm safe?"
"For the moment."
She exhaled slowly.
Then—
"And you?" she asked.
Lucien's lips curved slightly.
"I'll manage."
He didn't elaborate.
He didn't need to.
Because at that exact moment—
Somewhere beyond perception—
Something shifted.
Something… noticed.
A presence.
Cold.
Silent.
Watching.
Lucien felt it.
Not fear.
Not pressure.
Just awareness.
And then—
A faint system prompt echoed in his mind.
[Interference detected.]
[Sequence disrupted.]
[Target priority updated.]
[You are now under observation.]
Lucien's smile deepened slightly.
"Good," he murmured under his breath.
Across from him, Scarlett frowned.
"What?"
He shook his head.
"Nothing."
But his eyes—
His eyes were no longer relaxed.
Because now—
The game had truly begun.