Loop 31

I will die at 2:40 AM today. The killer is a man wearing a black hood. Calling the police, hiding, running away, offering money—nothing works. He finds me every time with uncanny precision, then cleanly ends my life. Trapped in the 31st loop of this death day, I finally manage to rip off his hood during our struggle. But under the hood, the face I see is my own. An older, wearier version of me, aged by over a decade. He looks at me, his voice hoarse: "Chen Mo, get out of the way." 1 My name is Chen Mo. I am an incredibly ordinary convenience store clerk working the night shift. After graduating from college and failing to find a "real" job, I ended up here, in this suburban 24-hour store, just to make ends meet. No family, no friends, not even a pet. That's probably why no one has noticed I've died thirty times. The first time I woke up in the loop, I thought it was a dream, until the searing pain of a blade slicing my skin pulled me back to reality. The second time, I tried to call the police, but the landline was dead, and my cell signal mysteriously vanished. The third time, I hid behind the shelves, but the robber found me effortlessly, as if he knew exactly where I'd be. The fourth time, I grabbed the biggest wine bottle I could find to fight back. He dodged it easily, and the blade pierced my heart just the same. Ten times, twenty times, thirty times... every death was despairingly real. I tried everything: running out the front door only to be intercepted, hiding in the bathroom and being dragged out, playing dead only to be stabbed anyway. I even piled all the cash on the counter. He ignored the money and killed me. The robber's movements were too precise for an ordinary criminal. He knew every inch of the store like the back of his hand. It was as if he had rehearsed this countless times. This wasn't a robbery; it was an execution. Why me? Why this store? Why must I die over and over again, only to wake up standing in front of the freezer? Tonight, for the 31st loop, I decided to change my strategy. I would memorize every detail about him. Every movement, every habit. If I can't stop my death, at least I need to know why I'm dying. 2 Time ticked away. I stood by the freezer, forcing myself to be calm. The loop gave me one advantage: I could predict the immediate future. The robber would enter through the back door, take five steps to the corner of the aisle, then eight steps to the register, and lunges straight for me. He walked with a slight drag in his right foot—maybe an old injury, or just a habit. He always held the knife the same way: left hand in his pocket, right hand holding the blade, edge down—a classic ambush stance. He never spoke. He never took the money. His target was always, only, me. I took out the store's inventory notebook and quickly jotted down these observations, even though I knew the writing would vanish in the next loop. 2:39 AM. I quietly shifted my position, standing to the side of the register instead of directly behind it. 2:40 AM. A faint noise from the back door... he's here. I held my breath, pretending to organize the shelves while watching the back entrance out of the corner of my eye. The shadow arrived on schedule. Familiar footsteps, familiar path. But this time, I noticed more. There seemed to be a scar on his left wrist, visible only when his sleeve shifted. He was about my height and build, but his movements were sharper, more decisive. As he approached the counter and realized I wasn't in my usual spot, he paused for a split second. Now! I grabbed the fire extinguisher I had prepared and sprayed it directly at him. He clearly didn't expect this. He hesitated for a moment, but then reacted with shocking speed. He dodged sideways, evading most of the spray. That wasn't a normal human reaction time! Still, the extinguisher bought me a few precious seconds. I dropped it and grabbed the mop next to the counter, charging at him. This was the first time I initiated the attack instead of waiting to die. Amidst the white powder, we grappled. I could feel his strength and technique far surpassed mine. But I had resolve—fueled by the anger and experience of thirty deaths. During a dodge, I saw his sleeve slip again. The scar was clearer now. It was a surgical scar, located precisely over the radial artery. Why did that detail feel so familiar? Before I could process it, the robber regrouped. The blade came at me again. This time, my death was more painful than ever, but I was closer to the truth than ever before. 3 I opened my eyes in front of the freezer again. But this time, the fear was gone. I had a plan. I had a direction. 2:37 AM. I walked straight to the security room and pulled up the camera feeds. I had ignored this before. The store had six cameras; maybe they caught something I missed. The room was tiny, just an old monitor split into six grainy screens. It was enough. I fast-forwarded through yesterday's footage and noticed something strange. Starting at 2:00 AM, the feed would occasionally jitter or show static, like signal interference. Even stranger, at 2:40 AM, the moment the robber entered, all cameras blacked out for exactly one second. That couldn't be a coincidence. I switched to the live feed. 2:39 AM. The back door camera caught a shadow lingering outside. He was here. I picked up the landline in the security room and dialed the police. "Hello? South City Convenience Store. A robbery is in progress. Please send someone immediately!" There was a second of silence, then a calm female voice: "What is your specific address?" I rattled off the address while staring at the screen. The figure had pried open the back door and was slipping inside. "Police will arrive in five minutes. Please stay safe." Five minutes? I didn't have five minutes. Watching the robber get closer on the screen, I had an idea. There was a panic button in the security room connected to the local precinct. I smashed the red button. A piercing alarm shrieked through the store. On the monitor, the robber flinched, clearly startled. But instead of running, he moved faster. He knew he was running out of time. I grabbed the security baton and hid behind the door. The moment he burst into the room, I swung with everything I had. Whack! The baton hit his shoulder. He stumbled back two steps. First time I had the upper hand. While he was off balance, I swung again, hitting his head. The black hood loosened, revealing a tuft of graying hair. My heart pounded. Finally, I would see the face of the butcher who had tortured me for thirty loops. Seizing his moment of instability, I lunged forward and ripped the hood off. It was a face I knew intimately, yet weathered by time. It was me, but fifteen years older! Sunken eyes, exhausted gaze, a scar on the forehead... even the mole on the chin was identical. The future me looked at me with grim determination: "Don't get in the way, Chen Mo!" His voice was hoarse, but it was undeniably mine, just worn down by years. I stepped back in shock. "You... you're me? Why do you want to kill me?" "Our daughter has a rare blood disease. If I don't get the money... Chen Xi... won't make it!" Daughter? I don't even have a girlfriend. How could I have a daughter? Before I could ask, the future me raised the knife, his eyes filled with despair. "I'm sorry. But this is the only way she lives." As the blade pierced my chest, my brain was still reeling. The robber was my future self. 4 Waking up in front of the freezer again, my heart hammered—not from fear, but shock. The name Chen Xi echoed in my mind. My daughter? My future daughter? Why would my future self go to such lengths, even killing his past self, to save her? 2:20 AM. I sat at the register and opened the store computer. I couldn't just wait to die. I needed to know more. I searched "Chen Xi" + "Rare Blood Disease." Too many results. I searched "Extremely expensive blood disease treatments." Several possibilities popped up. The most severe was a rare genetic condition called "Heiman-Faber Syndrome." Less than 500 confirmed cases worldwide. Treatment costs could easily exceed a million dollars. Was this it? But even so, why kill his past self? Robbing a convenience store for a few thousand bucks wouldn't solve a million-dollar problem. Unless... it wasn't just about money. I searched "Time Travel" + "Ethical Issues" + "Paradoxes," skimming through sci-fi and physics discussions. 2:39 AM. I shut down the computer and stood behind the counter, waiting for him. This time, I wouldn't run. I wouldn't fight. I was going to talk. When the black figure entered from the back, I spoke immediately: "Chen Xi has Heiman-Faber Syndrome, doesn't she?" His steps faltered, but he recovered quickly and kept coming. "I know who you are. I know why you're here," I continued. "But killing me won't help. We should figure this out together." The future me stopped. Through the hood, I felt his burning gaze. "You know nothing. It's too late. There is no other way." "At least tell me the truth!" I shouted. "Why this store? Why tonight? Why must I die?" He didn't answer, just kept advancing. I noticed he occasionally clutched his chest while walking. It wasn't just his daughter; he was sick too. "You're ill too, aren't you?" I probed. That stopped him. He pulled off the hood. That face—so like mine, yet so full of pain—stared back. "Listen, past me. There are things you will never understand unless you live through what I have," he said. "Chen Xi needs a bone marrow transplant. But our marrow doesn't match anymore because..." He suddenly grabbed his chest, doubling over in pain. I stepped forward to help, but he instantly raised the knife, warning me back. "Because of what?" I pressed. "Because time travel changed me. It changed everything." He gritted his teeth, pulled the hood back on, and charged. As I died this time, my mind was filled with heartache for a daughter I had never met. 5 Waking up again, confusion was gone. Only resolve remained. I had to find a third way. A way for Chen Xi to live without sacrificing either "me." 1:30 AM. I left the register and started scouring the store for clues. Why did he choose this store? Why this time? There had to be a reason I missed. I checked every shelf, every drawer. I even lifted the floor tiles under the counter. 2:20 AM. Deep in a locker in the staff break room, I found a small safe. I had never seen this safe before. It wasn't standard store equipment. I tried every code I could think of: my birthday, the last four digits of my ID, even Chen Xi's initials. Nothing worked. 2:35 AM. I gave up on the safe and returned to the counter, ready to face him again. Maybe I could get more info tonight. 2:40 AM. The footsteps arrived. In this struggle, I noticed he seemed more desperate, his movements rougher. During a grapple, a worn locket fell from his collar. I seized the chance, grabbed the locket, and backed away. He panicked, reaching for it, but I was too fast. I opened it. Inside was a blurry photo of a little girl. She was about six or seven, with my eyes and nose, smiling innocently. Chen Xi. On the back of the photo, a date was scratched in with a fingernail: April 23, 2035. I looked up in shock. "You're from ten years in the future?!" He didn't deny it. Painfully, he said, "That's the day she died. Unless we change the past." Died? Before I could ask more, he snatched the locket back and drove the knife into my chest. This time, death came with a terrifying realization. He wasn't just trying to save her life. He was trying to undo a tragedy that had already happened. In subsequent loops, I tried leaving messages. I taped a note under the counter: I know about Chen Xi. I want to help. Please don't kill me. Let's work together. 2:40 AM. He came in, saw the note, ripped it up without hesitation, and killed me. Next time, I wrote on the break room mirror in lipstick: For Chen Xi, we must cooperate. He ignored it and rushed the counter. I left a video message on the computer screen. He glanced at it, turned it off, and killed me. Why was he so stubborn? Had he tried everything in his timeline and concluded this was the only way? In one loop, I noticed an anomaly. The store lights began to flicker irregularly. Strange, crack-like shadows flashed on the walls. At first, I thought it was the wiring. But I realized it only happened around the time he appeared. Even stranger, the future me seemed to notice it too. Every time the lights flickered, he moved faster, as if racing against time. Was this a warning?

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