Once I sat down on the corner of the surprisingly soft and springy bed, I was hit by a wave of fatigue. While it wasn't too bad (I certainly had worse crashes in the past), this wasn't the right time to feel enervated, so I lightly slapped my cheeks to get the adrenaline flowing again. Future-me glanced at me but didn't bother to say anything and just walked to the corner of the surprisingly well-lit and furnished cell to pick up a wooden chair. I kept my curiosity about the place in check for the time being and pinched the spot between my eyes with my thumb and forefingers to focus my mind. Let's summarize what happened to make sure I didn't miss anything: I arrived at the Abyss. Fidèle Shamash showed up to warn me about a trap, which I already knew about, because we set it up with future-me. Then he showed up with Crowy and, the Shamash matriarch's presence notwithstanding, things went mostly as planned. We fought, I clowned on Crowy a bit, and then we pretended that I was injured by a cheap shot to raise the stakes. So far, so good. Then I mixed things up a bit to let Fidèle leave the combat zone, followed by resuming the script by having a one-on-one duel with Bel. So far, we were mostly on the rails, but then it all went to hell when Crowy took the prospective head of Houe Ashur hostage, future-me used my shock to hit me with another cheap shot that wasn't in the script, and then he paralyzed me so that I couldn't intervene when Crowy snapped Tracas's neck right in front of my eyes. He used the same trick I invented to stop Knights in their tracks in the past; by interacting with the physical enhancement arrays of their equipment, I could tune them into 'negative values', meaning that instead of speeding up and strengthening their movements, the enchantments would have the opposite effect. I never expected it to be used against me, so it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize what was going on and undo the changes. By then, the Ashur noble was already dead on the floor, and soon after we got here and there was nothing I could do about it. In the meantime, future-me settled down on the chair he pulled over and we sat face to face. The silence was heavy in the cell, and I was the one to break it first. "You set me up." He didn't move a muscle, so I barrelled on. "You never told me the true plan." "You already knew that from the start," he pointed out, and my next words got caught in my throat for a moment. "I mean, yeah, but… I didn't expect things to go down like that!" I burst out, trying to not sound hysterical. Whether I succeeded or failed was beside the point. "And you also know that it was half the point." Read complete version only at ɴovelfire.net "Yes, but…" I clenched my teeth and hissed, "Be straightforward with me, for once: was Tracas getting killed part of the plan all along." Future-me nodded without the slightest hesitation. "Why?" "Because it was necessary for meta-reasons." "But it makes no sense!" I snapped, throwing my hands in the air. "Two words," future-me countered in an even voice and raised two fingers for emphasis. "Sacrificial lion." "The trope…?" I fell silent for a moment as I considered that. The 'sacrificial lion' was a trope where an established character's death was used to raise the stakes of the plot, especially at a crucial juncture. However, the more I thought about it, the less I could see the logic. "That's nonsense. You can't just kill off someone like him for that. We didn't even like the guy, for god's sake, and we knew practically nothing about him! Where was his tragic backstory that explained all his motivations and contextualized his betrayal to give his death the necessary gravitas?" "It's not like we know the background and history of Percival either," my future self pointed out, so I crossed my arms with a soft huff. "That's something else entirely. We're not invested in the bastard, but Leonard Pendragon was supposed to be. Even ignoring that, we're invested in Penny who's invested in him, so…" I would've probably continued rambling if not for a sudden realization rearing its ugly head in the back of my mind, so I shut up and looked future-me in the eye. "Why did you bring him up? That was too out-of-the-left-field to be just a random comment. How is Percival related to any of this?" My future version let out a long breath and sat straight in his seat, meeting my gaze with a dispassionate one of his own. "He's not related to this on a Watsonian level, no, but on a more Doylist one." By this point he linked his fingers in his lap, which was my traditional 'scheming mastermind revealing his plan' pose. He knew that, and he knew that I knew, so it had to be on purpose. To make sure I was paying full attention. "Listen. At this point, our understanding of the Simulacrum is… incongruent." "Because you're from the future." That should've been a blindingly obvious statement I made just to keep the conversation rolling, but he shook his head. "Yes, but no. I told you, I'm not that far ahead. It has more to do with the fact that we're both currently experiencing a retcon-in-process, but while you're looking at it from a linear time perspective, from my end, it's more of an instance of time that—" "Oh, shut up!" I cut him short with a growl. "My head's starting to hurt already. Don't you dare start talking about blocks of time and other Emergent-bollocks like that." "I wasn't going to, I'm just giving you context," he argued back, his calm and collected demeanour making me feel a bit iffy about snapping at him like that, though not for long. "The point I'm trying to make is that because of this difference in perspective, I have a more in-depth understanding of the Simulacrum's inner workings right now. Tropes, the push and pull of narrative influence, those kinds of things. You get what I'm trying to say." That wasn't a question, and I begrudgingly nodded along. "Sure. What you're trying to tell me is that this whole charade was a necessary evil." He nodded. "Including sacrificing Tracas for it." "It was less of a sacrifice, and more of an inevitability," future-me told me, sounding just a little bit wearier than before. "We both understand that the current state of the Simulacrum's scenario is unnatural and something that we created through both conscious choices and unconscious influence. What you don't understand yet is that the underlying framework controlling the scenario and its limits really, really doesn't like that." He crossed his arms again, his face twisting into an annoyed grimace for a moment before amending his last statement. "I'm personifying it a bit by saying it 'likes' something or not, but it's not a conscious process that makes choices. Not really. It's more like a giant rubber band; you apply force in one direction, it stretches out a bit, but then it wants to return to its original shape and potentially launch you across the room." "I think I get what you're trying to say, but what does that have to do with…?" I began, only for my mind to make the connection between what just happened with Tracas and the events surrounding Percival, and I had one of those 'ten minutes of thoughts happening in ten seconds' epiphanies. Future-me graciously waited for me to snap out of it, and he gave me another nod before I could even ask a question. "It's as you figured. The Simulacrum's original scenario had a much more… 'cavalier' attitude towards the value of human life." His expression was turning darker by the second, and it was clear to see that just talking about this topic was making him indignant. "Snowy was never supposed to survive the battle at the School. Ichiko was meant to be destroyed along with Onikiri, Sebastian was to fall to the stupid dragon-slaying spear at one point or the other, and Percival was supposed to die at our hands. All of them were meant to be big, emotional scenes to accelerate the plot and drive home the dramatic stakes of the scenario. And those are just the tip of the iceberg." "You can't be serious…" Yet, he was, so against my better judgment, I asked, "Who else?" "Fred, Galatea, Elder Xinji, Mom-in-law, Morgana, Jaakobah, Xiao, the three ex-Directors, and Tajana were all marked to die depending on which way the scenario progressed." That was already a bombshell, but then he added, "If not for us, I'd say about half of them should be dead at this point in time." "You get it now. We've been stretching that stupid rubber band to its limits, and something had to give." "Honestly, he already had his days numbered. Turncoats like him don't live long, and he wanted to assassinate Ollie. Even if things worked out according to the plan I told you, so long as he lived, he would've posed a mortal threat to the kid for the rest of his life. This way, at least he bought us some time." "I get that, but… It's just so… cold." "I know. I don't like it either, but some things can't be helped." For the first time, future-me sounded a bit softer than usual. "Listen, we're the same, so I know exactly how messed up all of this feels to you, but I also know you understand that this is something that had to be done. If you want to blame someone, blame the Emergents that originally made the Simulacrum and hard-coded these bullshit restrictions into it." He wasn't wrong. Human life was precious, and I always hated how killing people in even moderately kid-friendly stories was often glossed over and considered a given. Of course, I wasn't a big fan of the other end of the spectrum either, where every conflict was resolved with a heartfelt talk and a group hug, but both of those were fiction. Our world might've worked on tropes and clichés, but the people here were real, at least to me, and so I wanted to avoid causalities as much as possible. Apparently, there was only so much I could stretch my luck (and the Simulacrum) without consequences. At last, I decided to mull over the ethical and moral implications of this whole situation at a later date and focus on the ongoing discussion instead. I inhaled deeply and looked my future self in the eyes again. "You're right. I hate this, but let's not get bogged down in it. You said Tracas's death bought us some time. For what, exactly?" "To finish the scenario," he answered reflexively, as if waiting for my question. Which, considering he had future knowledge, he probably was. "The framework, including this whole stupid thing about 'balancing the tone' by these sacrificial lion death scenes, is only in effect while the scenario itself is running. Once we reach the end of it, all these restrictions and enforced tropes will be gone." "And that's when the Crowned Coalescence comes in to resolve everything," I guessed, but this time he only shrugged. "Probably. I told you, I'm not that far ahead, but that seems to be the logical conclusion." "Great. Does anyone else need to die for that to happen?" I grumbled, only to pause and hastily raise a palm. "Wait. Don't tell me. I don't want to know." Future-me's expression was inscrutable, but maybe that was for the better. "Good. Honestly, even knowing the meta-reason, I'm not sure I could sit still if I knew one way or the other." "Ah, about that…" This time, future-me's expression was extra-inscrutable. Suspiciously so. "… What are you not telling me?" Instead of giving me a straightforward answer, he stood up from his seat and walked behind it, his hands resting on the back of the chair. "You see, I told you that you're going to hate this meta-talk, but I wasn't referring to the whole death-rubber-band thing." That already caused a bunch of red flags to rise and claxons to start blaring in my mind, but before I could get a word in, he already dropped the next bombshell on me. "The thing is, you can't leave here." "That was the plan, wasn't it?" I asked back, sounding a touch alarmed, and future-me flashed an apologetic smile in response. "Yes, but… Let me try again: you can't leave here. As in, I'm not allowing you. Literally." "… Literally literally, or figuratively literally?" "We both know I'm not a fan of word games at times ," he answered back, sounding unusually sheepish, and explained, "You see, you're currently inside my retcon, and so I made it so that you're unable to Phase." "… That's not funny." "I know. Sorry, but it's kind of necessary." He flashed another apologetic smile and picked up his chair, pointing its legs at me like some stereotypical lion-tamer, stopping me before I could get to my feet. "Whoa, easy there! I'm not finished." I wasn't listening, because I already locked onto Judy's mark, but when I tried to Phase away, I was immediately hit by a wave of nausea and a mild headache. Upon opening my eyes again, I was still staring at my future self and his defensively raised chair. "Bloody hell, me! What have you done?!" "Don't worry, it's temporary. As for your question…" He flashed a shit-eating grin at me, so it was a good thing he had that chair, as I would've decked him right in the nose otherwise. "You see, normally it would be impossible to interfere with our abilities, because of the whole faux-Free-Actor thing, but these are very special circumstances. It's all very technical and convoluted, but to put it in simple terms, I'm technically imposing a limitation on myself, and since you're not supposed to directly affect the scenario at the moment, the Simulacrum lets it slide. It's just a precautionary measure, to make sure things past this point will go exactly as planned and I won't have to work around the whole Free Actor thing. Once you calm down and think about it, you'll realize that it's all very reasonable." "Then why didn't you tell me about it beforehand!?" "Because you're not calm right now, and I don't want to get punched," he countered with an index finger raised. "I already took the kick, so let's consider us even." Future-me ignored my protests and jerked his head towards the far end of the hallway. "For now, just chill and relax. Think of this as an impromptu vacation. Snacks are in the fridge, got a nice collection of books and mangas on the shelves, and you'll have Ollie and the swords to keep you company. Just sit back, unwind, and enjoy the show. I'll take care of the rest and call you when you're needed." "You can't just—!" Before I could finish, my future self winked at me and disappeared, along with the chair he was holding. I jumped up from my seat at the edge of the bed, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Oh, you mother—!" My second exclamation was also interrupted when future-me showed up again with a cheeky "Yoink!", picked up his Bel mask from the nightstand, and gave me a jaunty salute with his fingers over his forehead before disappearing again. I glared at the spot for a few seconds, but by the end of it, my previous shout deflated into a morose, "… fucker…", followed by another attempt at Phasing away. The result was the same as before. I wasn't going to be deterred so easily, and I tried a few more times, with no progress whatsoever. The headache and the nausea that came with it weren't even that bad; I'd endured much worse in the past, but there was something else that made me unable to go through with the whole process. It felt less like a hard restriction and more of a… mental block, maybe? It was hard to put it into words, but more importantly, I had a distinct feeling that if I tried really, really hard, I could probably overcome this limitation anyway. It was just that… I hated to admit it, but future-me was kind of right. Now that I calmed down a bit and thought about it, this whole thing made a lot of sense. I mean, considering my track record of bumbling into plots and scrambling up narrative threads, I wouldn't have trusted myself with staying out of trouble either. So, I didn't. Or won't. At least my other abilities were seemingly intact, by the looks of it. My phantom limbs were still as limber and ethereal as always, I could still operate my Leoformer (though it was naturally affected by the magic-disturbing effect of the Inannas' prison), and I could use Far Sight just fine as well. Considering all that, what were my options? Not much, really. I was supposed to stay here and pretend to be locked up, but I was literally locked up. It didn't make much of a difference, but the fact that I couldn't leave even if I wanted still annoyed the heck out of me. I headed over to the cell door and… yep. It wasn't locked. I pulled on it and, while the hinges made a loud whining noise, it still opened wide and I could casually walk out into the hallway lined with more cells on both sides. Last I checked, there were no guards down here, only at the mouth of the cave entrance leading to the prison, so if I really wanted to, I could probably leave the old-fashioned way. I just needed to climb all these stairs, then sneak out of the cave, dodge all the Fauns stationed outside, exfiltrate the town, then trek through the countryside to find another Noble House, and then… "Too tired, maybe later," I grumbled as I turned off my Leoformer, reached into my inner breast pocket, and uncapped the stainless-steel hip flask Sebastian 'let me borrow' for a while. I took a swig and let the warm tea wash away the taste of the fake blood from my mouth. It was something I desperately needed at the moment, and after a glance at the Ashur heir's cell at the far end of the hallway, currently dark and silent with its occupant presumably sleeping, I turned on my heels and returned to my own. Was I happy with how things turned out? Not one bit. However, future-me was still me, as aggravating as he was, so for the moment I decided to give myself the benefit of the doubt and only observe the unfolding situation. If nothing else, doing so was going to keep me from being bored while stuck down here. Whether or not I was going to remain obediently stuck here though, that was a question for another day.