C97: Our previous “iteration”

“Would you care for a blossom, sir?”

In the village square, Arnold met Mary. She stood there with her usual loosely braided brown hair, patched dress slightly dusted at the hem, a small basket hooked over her elbow. Inside the basket lay several freshly picked blossoms, white and pale yellow petals trembling in the breeze.

Although the cryptic scribble on the monument had warned him about her, he didn’t believe the girl herself was someone dangerous, at least not based on his own interactions with her.

‘Was my past self wrong, or is she hiding something?’ Suspicion welled up within him. Perhaps she was someone to be careful around, but dangerous? No. She did not feel like that.

“Guide me.”

He flicked a coin to her, and quickly, the girl’s cheerful chatter filled the air, painting a vivid picture of the village and its inhabitants. The information was swiftly obtained.

‘It’s the same.’ Arnold listened calmly.

The information she gave matched what was written on the monument.

‘Hmm… did that scale tilt a bit to the side?’

Arnold took a fleeting glance at the Moon Maiden statue, then shook his head, dismissing the thought. It was probably just a trick of the light.

Arnold soon met the church priest, Victor. He ‘donated’ a single Alan coin and was promptly enrolled in the church’s school.

‘So this is what I mean,’ Izzy chuckled within Arnold’s mind. ‘I’m so stingy.’

Afterward, they encountered the estate maid and quickly withdrew.

‘The maid is dangerous.’

That note from the monument was correct.

Arnold later ran into the village thugs near a quieter forest edge, and just as the monument had implied, he beat them up with little effort.

—

At night, in the quiet solitude of the study, Izzy hovered near the black monument, deep in thought.

‘The information here is all true.’

That made things easier. Although she remained skeptical, she would now treat the information provided as a reliable baseline for her investigations.

‘Does that mean…’ she contemplated. In her past life, she had heard about certain phenomena, but had never experienced anything like this herself.

‘Save and load?’

This was the closest thing she could understand with her own limited imagination.

Izzy had conducted some research into video games to avoid being accused of being a ‘boomer’ by that girl from her past life.

She remembered how proudly that girl used to talk about clearing difficult bosses, often bragging about her achievements in a particular game, what was it called again? Undatale?

‘Did I die in our previous iteration?’ she tapped her chin.

Izzy decided to call her previous loop the ‘first iteration.’

She floated down and continued reading each entry carefully.

[“The Stagefarer.”]

‘I see. So that’s the case.’

Extraordinary paths and stages. Most of the people she had met so far walked the Warrior Pathway, it seemed.

[“The Deaf.”]

Was this her Path? She wondered how much of this was true, reliable information.

[“The Blind.”]

“When something feels amiss, yet nothing is… they are watching.

Beware of the Blind.”

The warning, though chilling, did not help at all. It was too vague to be of any immediate use.

[“The Inspector.”]

‘So fearless?’ Izzy widened her eyes in disbelief.

What had her previous self eaten to become so audacious? Lying directly in front of them?

‘Meet them face to face? How did I have the guts to do it!’

A wave of reluctant respect washed over her.

If it were the current Izzy, she would surely have hidden away as soon as they met, observing from a safe distance before making any contact.

‘And their power…’

Discern lies? invisible barriers? A voice that could control their actions?

‘What was this? So strong?! And that “me” dared to lie directly to their faces?’

Izzy stared at the monument, her thoughts swirling.

[“Amelia and the kidnap case.”]

Izzy read the entry slowly, her brows knitting together as she absorbed each word.

‘Is it related to the Herald?’

The phrasing didn’t mention Arriet at all.

‘And it’s not related to Arriet?’

Then who was Arriet, really? Just a random corpse she had discovered in the basement? Or was she… a substitute?

The Herald would come here at the full moon. At the same time as the rite.

Izzy’s eyes widened slightly.

‘Five days!’

Today was Sunday. Izzy had just visited the village for the first time today. In five days’ time, it would be Friday.

The Herald would bring the final ingredient, Lady Amelia—the one the Inspectors wanted to find—to the mansion in five days' time.

And the note…

[“The Secret Space.”]

‘There is a secret space in the dining room!’

And there was a hidden space inside the empty picture frame?

The ingredients to awaken Isidora’s curse… so they really were a Curse?

[‘5 pure Yi bottles, one hundred child fingers, A [ ]’s finger. And Lady Amelia.’]

Her gaze paused.

“The finger is safe for consumption?” Her lips twitched.

What was this? Was the previous iteration really her?

‘They can refill my energy?’

How did tthe previous iteration know that? Did that version of her really place a strange finger in her mouth and test it?

What was this? How had she become so reckless?

[“Something is wrong with the village.”]

‘You can’t ask how to leave the village.’ Was it really that frightening? Even asking about departure was considered taboo?

The note recommended cooperating with the Inspector to find Amelia in order to escape.

Izzy tapped her chin thoughtfully.

‘I see. That’s actually viable.’

Lure the Inspectors here, let them fight the Herald. Between the Inspectors and the Herald, the latter was undoubtedly more dangerous. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” after all.

[“Mary gone missing.”]

Missing? So suddenly?

Izzy read further.

[“Lumber Smith, Mary’s father. Warrior Path, Stage unknown.”]

[“The Moon Elf.”]

[“The Violet-Eyed Monster.”]

[“Otis went missing. Lumber may know his whereabouts. He ran toward the forest, connection lost.”]

“...”

[“Be careful of Mary.”]

Why?

If “she” had specifically written to be careful of Mary… Then why had “she” still investigated when Mary went missing?

Izzy tapped her temple lightly.

‘My actions don’t make sense.’

She was self-aware enough to know she wasn’t a good person. She did not act without reason.

Back in her past life, reason often meant money.

But here?

‘That means, at the very least, the “me” in the past deemed Mary as someone important.’

Important enough to investigate despite warning herself.

The girl must hold vital information about this whole ordeal.

‘That must be it.’

Izzy continued down the entry.

[“Under the church.”]

‘A secret room under the church!’ Izzy widened her eyes.

Why were there so many secrets in this village?

[“Violet-eyed bats.”]

‘Right, that is totally suspicious.’

[“The Forest.”]

Izzy knitted her brows more tightly.

‘Mary?’ The girl appeared in the forest?

The handwriting on the monument changed at this part. The strokes grew straighter, and the white ink became bolder, more urgent.

Something was pretending to be Mary?

And…

‘Hazel died while protecting Arnold?’

An Inspector died while protecting their vessel? Inside the forest?

‘Why did she suddenly protect Arnold?’

There should be an ulterior motive behind it.

“Something is wrong with the forest…”

Then why… why did Arnold not get attacked when he left the mansion?

Throughout the way to the village, they only met Gentle. From that point, they could go back and forth without encountering anything.

Izzy stroked her forehead as a vague headache washed over her. She lowered her gaze and focused again on the monument.

The neat, precise script of the earlier entries began to degrade. They were no longer neat investigative notes.

The scribble… it became more frantic and distorted.

[“There is @(#($ to##@ @&@!”]

The symbols twisted together in tangled knots of strokes, overlapping and slashing through one another. Some characters seemed half-formed. Others were scratched over repeatedly.

The letters themselves seemed to fight each other.

‘Why does the writing suddenly become unreadable?’

Izzy leaned closer, hovering inches from the black surface. She focused on the garbled text—

[“There is a barrier to keep it out!”]

After some time, she finally made out the meaning.

Yet—

‘Why do I feel like it was slowly fading away?’

As soon as she read them, the words seemed to lose their glow, sinking back into the black stone as if they had never been there.

Izzy’s brows drew tight. Her gaze drifted further down toward the end of the entry.

There, at the very bottom—

A massive red scribble dominated the surface.

It was not white like the rest, but a deep crimson.

A final, violent scrawl.

The strokes were thick and chaotic, layered over one another until they formed an almost solid mass of jagged lines.

[“@+-#)@))#-#(@+)@)-(#)!”]

The moment her focus locked onto it, her stomach twisted. A wave of intense nausea and vertigo washed over her.

“Eurgh—”

Izzy staggered midair, her hovering form swaying. For a second, the colorful amusement-park sky around them trembled. The rainbow river overhead rippled unnaturally. The cloud-like ground beneath her feet seemed to pulse.

Her balance nearly gave out.

There was something wrong with that scribble, something inherently dangerous!

‘Focus!’

Izzy clenched her teeth and steadied herself. One hand pressed firmly against her temple as if physically holding her thoughts in place. She forced her gaze back to the unreadable crimson scrawl.

“!”

The dizziness intensified.

A roaring in her ears.

Her vision doubled.

The red lines seemed to crawl.

But she kept staring.

“Ughhhh—”

Slowly,

Very slowly,

The chaotic strokes began to align and piece together.

The angry lines untangled themselves, coalescing...

“!”

Izzy’s pupils dilated, a cold dread tracing its icy fingers down her very essence.

‘...’

The last line, now glowing with a malevolent red light, was only an unfinished sentence.

[“DON’T LET IT INS—!”]

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