Night, twelve days before Judgment Day.
No wonder they said time spent together was short. He had only dropped in for a visit, and what seemed like an entire day had already passed.
In the darkness, Fu Qian felt the softness beneath him and naturally found himself reflecting on life.
What followed was an unprecedentedly grim situation—the kind where the death omen star flashed so brightly it made his eyes ache.
Ordinary perceptions of time could no longer be trusted.
The day the mission began had been the 48th. He had specifically found someone to verify that.
When the barrette-wearing woman had asked him the date, she had clearly found nothing strange about his answer of the 48th.
The boundaries even appeared quite distinct. The barrette-wearing woman was responsible for advancing time to six o'clock, while Mrs. Tracy was responsible for fast-forwarding straight to the next day.
It could be said that there were two consecutive examples, before and after, jointly confirming that terrifying suspicion.
In this peculiar corner, time was no longer so supreme. It had fallen into being an ordinary element, something shaped by human willpower.
It was quite a fascinating experience, but that was precisely the problem: time was the core element of this mission.
Judgment Day on the thirteenth day... after this, let alone thirteen days, it was hard to say whether he even had twenty-four hours left to work with.
And in the most extreme scenario, Mrs. Tracy could advance time by one day. Could there be an even more formidable player capable of skipping straight to the end—that trap?
At one point, Fu Qian thought of the waitress who had passed him a note.
When he had accepted her advice, the core consideration had been that he had already lost the initiative. He had