Electra’s POV

I let out a shaky sigh of relief as soon as my eyes fluttered open and I realized two things: it was nighttime already, seeing how the room was dark, and I was still in my own room. My own bed. Not Seraphina’s.

For a moment, I just lay there, staring up at the ceiling and letting my eyes adjust to the dark. It felt unreal—after repeating the same conversation, the same walk down the hallway, the same infuriating run-in with Yuna and Yura, I had finally broken free of that loop. And all it took was confessing one of the darkest truths of my life to Seraphina.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, trying to will away the memory of that conversation. Telling someone about Queen Jella’s abuse—words I’d never spoken out loud before—felt like scraping my heart raw.

Even now, a dull ache still lingered in my chest, reminding me just how vulnerable I’d been, but that ache paled in comparison to the flood of relief at knowing I’d woken up in my own space, my own bed, and with no sign of the day resetting itself like a broken record.

Slowly, I stretched my arms over my head, feeling the tension in my shoulders loosen. My limbs felt heavy, as if I’d been running a marathon—maybe mentally, I had. Despite the relief, I was exhausted.

I forced myself upright, groaning a little as my stiff muscles protested. My eyes drifted to the faint outlines of furniture in the darkness: the small desk, the wardrobe, the pile of clothes.

Having to repeat the morning more than once had definitely taken a toll on me and was still messing with my head, but I tried not to dwell on it. I just needed to hold on to the fact that at least the loop was done.

Or so I hoped.

Then, as I shifted my legs to dangle off the bed, something in the corner of my eye made me freeze. There was a dark shape at the foot of my bed—a silhouette that definitely hadn’t been there before.

My heart lurched, and a jolt of pure panic shot through my spine. I typically wasn’t the type to ever scream—ever—but for the first time in a while, I let out an involuntary scream, and it was so loud that my voice echoed even in the still room.

Instinct took over, and I threw myself backwards, nearly tangling in the sheets.

“Who’s there?” I managed, forcing the words out through a throat tight with fear.

My mind was turning with so many possibilities: *Am I now stuck in some different scenario? Is this part of the never-ending loop? Did I not break free at all?*

While I was imagining the worst case possible, the figure would suddenly turn on the flashlight of a phone, and when a familiar face came into view, my racing heart didn’t slow. Instead, it pounded harder, fueled by equal parts relief and irritation.

I had been bracing myself for a life-or-death moment, and here was Yuna, looking far too pleased with herself for scaring the hell out of me.

“Seriously, Yuna?” I snapped, sitting up straighter and running a hand through my hair. “What the hell are you doing in my room, sitting in the dark like a creep?”

Yuna burst into laughter, the kind that was loud, carefree, and utterly infuriating. She held her stomach as if I’d just told the funniest joke she’d ever heard. “You should’ve seen your face, Electra. Priceless. I didn’t know you could scream like that.”

I groaned, leaning back against the headboard. “That wasn’t a scream. That was… I don’t know, a startled yell, and you didn’t answer my question—why are you here?”

She grinned, clearly unbothered by my growing irritation. “I came to get you so we could have dinner, but no matter what I did, you wouldn’t wake up. You sleep like a literal rock, you know that? So, I figured I’d sit here and wait for you to wake up.”

“Wait, you’ve been sitting here the whole time?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “How long have you been here?”

Yuna shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe thirty minutes? Forty, tops.”

“Thirty minutes?” I almost yelled. “And you didn’t think to turn the lights on, or better still, why didn’t you just knock before coming in?”

“I knocked, like, three times,” she said, crossing her arms defensively. “No one answered, so I just came in to be sure that the room was empty instead of just leaving. I thought you might’ve died or something.”

“Well, clearly, I’m alive,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her. “And what kind of person just sits in the dark, waiting? That’s psycho behavior, Yuna.”

She laughed again, as if I was the one being unreasonable. “Psycho? Please. If I were psycho, I’d be holding a knife and chanting creepy stuff. I’m just hungry and didn’t want to eat alone.”

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, shaking my head. “What time is it anyway?”

Yuna glanced at her phone. “It’s just past 7:30.”

I sighed, feeling a mixture of frustration and resignation. “Fine, give me a second. I’ll change, and we can go.”

Yuna raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Change? For what? You look fine to me. It’s not like we’re going to a royal banquet or something.”

I shot her a look. “Unlike you, I have standards. I’m not showing up in wrinkled clothes and bedhead.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, please. Like anyone cares.”

Ignoring her, I climbed out of bed and went to my wardrobe to grab a fresh shirt. Yuna continued to sit on my bed like she owned it, swinging her legs back and forth and humming some obnoxiously cheerful tune. I tried to block her out, focusing on pulling my hair into a somewhat presentable ponytail.

As I slipped on my sneakers, I glanced at her and said, “You’re lucky I didn’t have something heavy to throw at you when I woke up.”

“Noted,” Yuna said with a grin. “Next time, I’ll come with a helmet.”

I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me. “You’re impossible.”

“I agree,” she said, hopping off the bed and heading for the door. “Come on, let’s go before all the good food is gone.”

I followed her out of the room, still annoyed but oddly grateful for the distraction. As much as Yuna could get on my nerves, she had a way of making things feel less heavy, less suffocating, and right now, after the loops, the confession to Seraphina, and the overwhelming sense of being trapped in this life, I needed that more than I cared to admit.

The dining hall was loud and bustling with energy as usual. I wasn’t paying much attention to where Yuna and I were heading since I was distracted by the noise, and that was when it happened.

I didn’t see her until it was too late. One second, I was walking; the next, I collided with someone head-on.

The moment I collided with the girl, everything seemed to slow down. Pain shot through my hip as I hit the floor, and for a second, all I could do was wince and clutch my side. Yuna was immediately by my side, her voice full of concern.

“Electra, are you okay?” she asked, helping me to my feet with surprising strength for her small frame.

“I’m fine,” I grumbled, brushing off imaginary dust from my shirt, but my attention quickly shifted to the girl still sprawled on the ground with her red hair spilling over her face.

Her wide, fearful eyes looked up at me, and for a moment, I froze. Something about her expression struck a chord deep inside me—a feeling of déjà vu so strong it was almost dizzying. It was the same fear I had seen in Seraphina’s eyes the first time we had met.

The memory hit me all at once, and for a moment, I was back in that dining hall, but in my original life. Seraphina had been just as nervous, just as afraid, apologizing profusely like she thought her very existence was an inconvenience.

Shaking myself out of the memory, I crouched down and extended my hand to the red-haired girl. “Hey, you okay? Let me help you.”

Her gaze flicked to my hand, then back to my face, her fear still evident. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached out and allowed me to pull her up. Her hand was trembling slightly, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I—I’m so sorry,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. Her face was flushed, and she looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor. “I wasn’t paying attention. I—”

“It’s fine,” I interrupted, trying to sound as gentle as possible. “It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.”

She nodded quickly, her eyes darting around the room like she was searching for an escape route. Before I could say anything else, she mumbled another apology and bolted for the door, leaving her tray abandoned on the floor.

Yuna, who had been watching the entire interaction with raised eyebrows, let out a low whistle. “What was that about?”

I shook my head, still staring at the door where the girl had disappeared. “I don’t know,” I admitted, though the déjà vu was still gnawing at me. “She seemed… scared.”

“She looked like she saw a ghost,” Yuna said, picking up the abandoned tray and handing it to a passing cafeteria worker. “Do you know her?”

“No,” I said quickly, though I wasn’t entirely sure if that was true. Something about her felt familiar, even though I couldn’t place her.

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