Ethan opened his eyes, staring at the ochre ceiling, dimly lit by ambient lighting. He blinked a few times, feeling the searing heat on his forehead and the frigid cold snaking through his body, both sensations clashing violently. As awareness settled in, the frustration inside him boiled over, and he cursed under his breath.

"F*cking b*stards!!!"

He had died, sent back twenty-four hours through his Rewind ability, but what truly angered him wasn’t death itself—it was the tedious repetition of everything he’d been forced to go through.

"Now I have to repeat all those damn checks and meetings again..."

More than death, he feared the monotony and pressure of the meetings awaiting him. Despite his annoyance, though, Ethan realized he'd been careless. He had grown confident in his swordsmanship, but even mastery couldn’t outmatch a reflexive gunshot. That split-second reaction from one of the kidnappers had sealed his fate, and dodging it without preparation had been nearly impossible.

"... My skill’s on cooldown."

A deeper issue gnawed at him: his Rewind had activated on its own, but now it was stuck in a cooldown period. For the next twenty-four hours, he was locked to this specific timeframe, unable to reset again. His No Cost ability, which eliminated all cooldowns and restrictions, couldn’t bypass this flaw. If the skill was already on cooldown, No Cost was powerless.

The knowledge weighed on him—he had no margin for error this time.

*BZZZZT!*

His phone vibrated, pulling him from his thoughts. The screen displayed, Art Director 5. He picked it up.

"Checking the new animations and models, right? I'll be there in ten minutes," Ethan answered, a sigh escaping his lips as he dropped the call in a flash.

He had gone through all this yesterday, and while it should've been easier the second time around, the speed at which he pinpointed the same corrections only made things worse. His efficiency backfired, creating new problems, forcing him to sit through longer meetings to address fresh concerns. It was as if being too good at something only made life harder.

By the end of the day, he was mentally and physically drained. He collapsed onto his bed, but even as exhaustion overtook him, he knew rest wasn’t an option.

"They’ll be coming soon..." He muttered to himself, eyes narrowing. The b*stards who had made his previous night a living hell were bound to return.

"I’m definitely not letting them off easy this time."

But killing them outright wasn’t an option. This wasn’t the Apocalypse—not yet. Here, murder came with consequences: first-degree murder charges or, at best, lawful homicide. He needed a plan that wouldn’t land him behind bars.

*Clack!*

Just when his Rewind's cooldown was down to its last minute, the sound of metal scraping against the lock echoed through the room. The intruders had arrived.

The Celestial Heaven Resort used multi-layered security on its room doors: a card key for the bolt handle, an old-fashioned doorknob lock, and a chain lock inside. Despite these precautions, Ethan had witnessed how easily these men bypassed the system during his first encounter. The card key lock was disabled instantly, no doubt using some kind of master key. The only challenge was the old doorknob lock, which they fumbled with for just over thirty seconds the last time.

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Ethan remained seated on the edge of the bed, breathing steadily. His muscles tensed as the lock clicked open, and he heard the chain lock being severed with bolt cutters. His pulse quickened. The door creaked as it was pushed ajar, and the figures slipped inside.

"Get down—!"

"Alright, alright. You’re here for me, right?" Ethan interrupted before they could repeat themselves. He raised his hands, feigning surrender. "You brought rope? Cuffs? I’ve got my own, if you’d like."

The seven kidnappers, all clad in black, froze. Confusion flickered in their eyes. This wasn’t how targets usually reacted.

They moved with hesitancy, gagging Ethan and tying his hands behind his back with a zip tie. It wasn’t particularly tight, but Ethan made no effort to escape. It was way too soon to do that.

He silently followed as they led him out, exiting through the emergency staircase. The cold night air cut into him, wind biting at his skin. Compared to the winters of the Apocalypse, though, this was mild. He endured the discomfort with ease, but a thought gnawed at him as he descended the stairs.

'They're walking through public areas boldly... They must have someone backing them inside the hotel.' The logic fell into place quickly. No ordinary criminals would be this bold without inside help.

As they reached the bottom, a vehicle drove over and slammed on the breaks, it was a black van. They shoved him inside it, which reeked of cigarettes and sweat. A cloth soaked in chloroform was pressed against his face suddenly, and his vision blurred as consciousness slipped away.

---

Ethan woke up in a dimly lit room, bound to a chair with his hands tied behind him. A single lightbulb swung above his head, flickering, casting unsettling shadows around the cold, concrete space. His breath echoed in the silence, the damp air thick with mildew.

"Where am I?" Ethan’s voice broke the silence as a man approached, flanked by the seven familiar faces—the goons who had kidnapped him.

The man in charge was dressed like a stereotypical mob boss, complete with a gray pinstriped suit and a black fedora with red stripe. A cigar smoldered between his teeth, wisps of smoke curling lazily into the air.

"Doesn’t matter," the boss exhaled smoke into Ethan’s face, a smug grin on his lips. "What matters is why you’re here, right? You catch my drift?" He explained, his voice deep and husky; a low, gravelly rasp that irritated Ethan's ears.

"Yeah, I get it." Ethan’s tone was as nonchalant as ever. "You want my money, then will bury me somewhere no one will find after you're done. The usual."

The boss chuckled. "Non, non, non. We’re not that heartless. We’re ethical kidnappers." He exclaimed, theatrically extending his arms wide.

As if on cue, one of the goons stepped forward—a hulking man with a shaved head and a silver nose ring. He positioned himself behind Ethan and, without warning...

*CRACK!*

"Ugh..." Ethan gritted his teeth as pain shot through his hand. The man had snapped his pinky finger like a twig. The agony was sharp, searing through him, but Ethan barely flinched. He could see the disappointment in the boss’s eyes.

"You’re tough, I’ll give you that," the boss mused, leaning back.

"I’m not opposed to handing over the money." Ethan’s voice remained eerily calm, betraying no sign of the pain. "But I’m curious. How’d you manage to infiltrate the hotel? For reference... you know, something to take with me to the afterlife."

The boss hesitated for a moment, then grinned, clearly enjoying the power he thought he held. "Why not? Consider it a parting gift." He began detailing the plan like a child bragging about his favorite toy. An insider at the hotel, a stash of weapons in the neighboring room, a well-timed infiltration.

Ethan memorized every detail. The room number, the insider’s name, the timing. And most importantly, the name of the organization behind the plot.

"You like your souvenir?" The boss smirked, drawing closer. "Now, let’s get to the real business."

"No need."

Ethan’s eyes flicked to the boss’s wrist, catching the gleam of his golden Rolex. The time. It was perfect.

"I’ve already got what I wanted," he said, a dark smile tugging at his lips.

Before the boss could react, Ethan activated No Cost Rewind, jumping back to a few hours ago, the moment he arrived at the Celestial Heaven Resort.

---

Back in the lobby, Ethan cracked his knuckles, feeling the bones of his broken pinky finger reset. A wicked grin crossed his face as he glanced around the luxurious interior.

"This time, they’ll pay."

The game had changed, and now, Ethan was in control.