Bobby barely slept that night.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the masks of the Echo Loopers—empty, unblinking, full of accusation. He heard Lyra’s voice trembling when she aimed the gun. He felt the metal grip of BF-85 on his wrist, as if the cold steel had etched itself into his bones.
And in the dark, when the house fell silent and even the fridge stopped humming, Bobby whispered the question that refused to leave:
"What do I want to become?"
No answer came.
Soon, his mind drifted towards something else—his dad. He wondered why he had mistaken his voice for that of someone else. It was strange because the voice sounded so familiar—almost like a memory from a parallel timeline.
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By morning, he felt brittle. Like a paper cut out of himself. But the first thing his eyes met
