In a dark and neglected room, a young man with black hair and dark circles under his eyes sat on the edge of his bed, his hand pressed against his face. He looked terrified and was drenched in sweat.
"I've tried everything… Why am I still stuck in that same day?! The events just keep repeating no matter what I do. Is my fate—and my mother's—to live that day forever? I can't keep doing this… They've found a donor for her, and she'll die without the operation. What do I have to do? What must I do for a new day to finally come?"
For the past three days, Ash had been reliving the same events, trapped in a time loop that reset every 24 hours.
Knock! Knock!
As Ash was lost in thought, he suddenly heard a loud banging on the door.
"Ash! There's an emergency—we need to talk!"
It was his father, shouting from the other side, rambling incoherently. Ash's father was an unemployed gambling addict and alcoholic, contributing nothing to the family. If anything, he was a financial burden.
Ash got up, grabbed a towel, wiped the sweat from his face, and opened the door. There stood his father—a large, unkempt man whose scruffy beard and disheveled appearance gave him the look of a vagrant.
Ash grimaced and covered his nose with his hand. "You stink of booze. How about taking a shower for once?"
His father's expression was frantic, as if something—or someone—was after him. He grabbed Ash by the shoulders with trembling hands.
"Ash, I need money. Fast. My life's in danger."
Ash pulled away with disgust in his eyes. "What?! You lost another bet, didn't you? I'm not covering your debts again. I'm saving every cent for Mom's surgery. Honestly, you should be ashamed after stealing our last savings. Go get a job and fix your own mess."
Ash's words infuriated his father. "Shut up and give me the damn money! This is serious—those bastards will kill me if I don't pay up. Have you forgotten I'm your father? You will obey me!"
His father screamed, his bloodshot eyes wide with rage. He looked—and sounded—terrifying. But Ash stared back with cold, empty eyes. The darkness in them was like a void. Nothing could shake him. Nothing mattered but his mother.
His father's patience snapped. He barged into the room and began tearing it apart, searching for the hidden money. He ripped through drawers and flipped the mattress. Ash watched him silently, face blank, unmoved.
When he found nothing, his father's rage turned manic. His hair was a mess, his body drenched in sweat. He turned and slowly approached Ash, getting in his face.
"You've got it, don't you? The money—it's in your pocket. Give it to me and I won't hurt you. You know how I get when I'm angry."
Without a word, Ash turned away, grabbed his jacket, and said, "You know what? This house is yours. I'm not coming back to this toxic hellhole. Once Mom recovers, she and I will move out—alone. Don't you dare come near us again."
With that, he walked toward the door, not even glancing at his father.
His father stood frozen, shocked. Then his face twisted into a furious snarl. His eyes flared red with fury as he grabbed a heavy book from the desk and charged at Ash.
"You dare threaten me, you little bastard?!"
WHAM!
The book struck Ash hard on the back of the head. Pain exploded through his skull, and the world spun. He staggered against the wall, barely conscious.
"I… I can't see… Everything's blurry… My head's going to explode… Wait—what is this warm liquid…?"
He touched his head. His hand came away red.
Blood. Lots of it.
If he didn't stop the bleeding, he'd die.
But his father didn't care. He cursed as he rummaged through Ash's pockets. "Told you not to make me angry. Look what you made me do—this is your fault. Now stay still while I get the money!"
Hearing those words sparked something inside Ash. A memory of his mother flashed in his mind.
"If he takes the money now… all my efforts will have been for nothing. She'll die without that surgery. She's dying… and I'm wasting time. Every second counts now."
His father's hand reached into his pocket, but a bloodied hand grabbed his wrist.
He looked up.
Ash's face was a mask of blood, his eyes pitch black with rage—inhuman. Like a demon.
His father flinched. "Hey—let go. Let's not make this worse. Don't make me kill you—"
But suddenly, he felt himself being pushed backward.
Ash was forcing him toward the window.
With a scream of raw adrenaline, Ash shoved his father with all the strength he had left.
His father was stunned. "Wait—You're going to kill me?! I'm your fath—"
CRASH!
The window shattered. His father plummeted.
Ash didn't look.
He was too exhausted, too close to death.
But he knew he'd bleed out if he didn't act. He staggered to the closet, tore a strip from his shirt, and tied it around his head. Outside, he heard the screaming of neighbors reacting to the body on the street.
But Ash felt calm. He knew.
At exactly 12:00 AM, everything would reset.
It had for the past three days—no matter what happened. He had tried everything to break the cycle, but the day always repeated. After a few more hours of effort, he lay down and drifted into unconscious sleep, confident that come morning, everything would be reset… as always.
Hours passed.
Then—
"Wake up, kid. Come on—wake up!"
A gruff voice pulled Ash from his sleep.
He blinked. The room was full of noise—footsteps, people moving around. He opened his eyes.
Men in blue uniforms were searching his room. The man standing before him was bald, in his mid-thirties, wearing a black suit. His face was cold and serious. He held up a badge.
"I'm Detective Leonardo from the City Investigations Division. We have a few questions regarding the body that fell from your window—or more specifically… your father."
Ash froze. His heart nearly stopped.
His eyes widened as he scanned the room.
Police.
That meant—
The body was still outside.
It hadn't reset.
Realizing this, Ash gripped his head, horror dawning on him.
And then he screamed, right in front of the detective:
"Why didn't the day reset?!"