A Stranger's Handwriting

Neo sat in the dimly lit room of the inn, flipping open his journal with the intent to document his day.

His fingers stilled.

His breath hitched.

The page was already written.

His own handwriting. His own style. But the words—he hadn't written them.

He began reading, heart pounding as each sentence made the reality sink in deeper.

Neo's Journal Entries

Day 1:

"Arrived in Dawnstead."

• The town seems peaceful, much smaller than Valdris, but well-guarded.

• The people are friendly but reserved—seems like a place where nothing drastic happens.

• The innkeeper was kind. Paid for a meal and room. The food tasted better than expected, probably because I was starving.

• Met a young kid practicing sword swings.

• No signs of anything unusual.

Day 2:

"Explored the marketplace. No major findings."

• Walked through the market. Lively, but ordinary.

• The knights patrolling seem relaxed—no major disturbances in this area.

• Merchants are loud, trying to sell their goods, but nothing suspicious.

• People follow their daily routines without much deviation.

Day 3:

"The town resets, but no one remembers. Only me."

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• Something is off.

• The same events are repeating exactly the same way.

• A merchant dropped an apple today—same spot, same time as yesterday.

• Conversations with people reset. Someone I met yesterday acted like it was our first time meeting today.

• The innkeeper greeted me like a stranger again. The guards gave the same responses.

• I remember everything. They don't.

Day 4:

"Attempted different approaches. No change."

• Tried changing my actions to see if anything new happens.

• Took a different route—same things happened, just slightly delayed.

• Asked knights about history—they gave the same generic answers as yesterday.

• Spoke to merchants about their goods—responses were identical to previous days.

• It's like I'm the only one aware.

Day 5:

"There must be a cause. Someone or something in this village is making this happen."

• If the world is resetting, then there must be something anchoring it.

• Began paying closer attention to patterns.

• Most people follow routines naturally—but some feel too perfect.

• The baker caught my attention.

• She does the exact same actions, every single time.

• Adjusts the dough the same way, with the same expression.

• Never sells a loaf.

• Something isn't right.

Day 6:

"I think I've found the reason"

• Watched the baker all day.

• Every action was identical to yesterday's. Every stir, every knead, every sigh.

• She never sells anything. Not once.

• People walk past her stall but never buy. She never reacts to it.

• Her focus is absolute. Almost obsessive.

• If the world resets, and she resets too—then what is she trying to perfect?

Day 7:

"Tomorrow, I will test my theory"

A Deep Chill

Neo inhaled sharply, closing the journal with slightly unsteady hands.

His body felt fine—no signs of lost time, no exhaustion that would suggest missing days.

But this wasn't a joke.

The handwriting was his.

The ink was dry.

The pages felt no different than the ones before it.

Neo leaned back against the bedframe, staring at the ceiling.

"A reset? That's impossible. Time magic? A curse?"

His heart pounded as he replayed the journal's words in his mind.

"If this has been happening for days, then I—"

No.

He wouldn't have remembered.

Which meant...

"This journal is the only reason I even know."

A Small Reminder

Neo flipped back to the start of the journal.

There, near the beginning, was the last entry he could remember writing himself.

"I arrived in Dawnstead."

A simple statement.

A confirmation of existence.

But beyond that, everything was already filled.

The realization sank deep into his bones.

"I have been living this same week over and over."

"And I don't even remember it."

His grip on the journal tightened.

The Weight of Knowledge

Neo exhaled through his nose, letting his mind settle.

There was only one way forward.

The journal was his anchor.

It was the only thing that kept him connected to the truth.

He flipped to the latest page.

His own words stared back at him.

"Tomorrow, I will test my theory"

Neo's fingers tapped against the paper, his mind already forming a plan.

This wasn't just a puzzle anymore.

This was a warning.

One that he had written to himself.

And if past him believed he found the answer—

Then he needed to see if he was right.