Ezra had barely stepped into the b when his name echoed through the halls.

  "Mr. Key wants to see you. Now." The assistant’s voice was neutral, but the urgency behind it made Ezra pause. He had been expecting this. Or something like it. Still, the weight in her tone told him this wasn’t just a casual meeting.

  With a sigh, he pulled off his gloves, muttered something about bad omens, and made his way up to the highest floor of Key Industries.

  When he stepped into Mr. Key’s office, the first thing he noticed wasn’t Mr. Key himself. It was the massive monitor behind his desk, pying security footage—specifically, traffic footage. Ezra's gut clenched. He already knew what he was looking at.

  The SUV. The truck. The crash.

  And then— BWOMP.

  Reality folding backward. The vehicle rolling away from disaster, avoiding a fate it had already suffered once. The moment Ezra had changed history.

  Mr. Key turned in his chair, his expression unreadable. With a flick of a button, the entire office bcked out. Doors locked. Vents silenced. The smart gss windows dimmed to bck.

  Ezra exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders. "Well, that’s ominous."

  Mr. Key didn’t answer at first. He simply studied Ezra, as if waiting for him to confess before even being asked the question. Then, with a slow, deliberate tone, he spoke. "Do you truly realize what you’ve done?"

  Ezra pursed his lips, tilting his head side to side in mock consideration. "Well, technically," he said, "I saved a kid’s life and prevented two funerals. You’re welcome, by the way."

  Mr. Key sighed, rubbing his temples.

  Ezra grinned. "C’mon, let’s just call it a magic trick and move on. A magician never reveals his secrets."

  Mr. Key did not return the smile. Instead, he stood, walked over to a rge bookshelf lining his office wall, and pulled out something Ezra hadn’t seen in years.

  A tome. Ezra’s stomach twisted.

  No. No, not this bullshit. Not again!

  The book was old, bound in thick leather, its title engraved in gold filigree: Bajookind’s Sacred History.

  Ezra groaned. "Oh, for fuck’s sake."

  Mr. Key slid the book across the desk. "Open it."

  "Nope."

  "Page 420."

  Ezra raised a brow. "Real mature."

  "Ezra."

  Mr. Key’s tone left no room for jokes.

  Fine. Whatever. Ezra grabbed the book and flipped to the designated page, prepared for some grade-A nonsense. His eyes skimmed over the text, already bracing himself for disappointment.

  The passage described a wizard. Some legendary old-world sorcerer who had traveled across the nds, spellbook in hand, on a grand quest. Ezra rolled his eyes. So far, so generic.

  Then came the princess. "Kierra?" Ezra scoffed. "Seriously? They had bimbos in ye olde Bajookind?"

  Mr. Key didn’t react. Didn’t even blink.

  "God," Ezra muttered, shaking his head. "You’re starting to sound just like her."

  That got a reaction. Mr. Key’s jaw tensed, his fingers tapping idly against the desk. But he remained silent.

  Fine. Ezra kept reading.

  The story detailed how the wizard had fought many battles, using countless spells from his enchanted tome. After many hardships, he finally reached the princess, trapped atop the highest mountain in all the nd. He freed her, and together, they made their escape.

  Then—doom.

  As they descended the mountain, a great dragon appeared, raining hellfire upon them. Their path was blocked. Their death was certain.

  And so, with no other choice, the wizard cast one final spell. He and the princess vanished. Gone from time. Never to be seen again.

  Ezra frowned. He flipped the page. Then another. And another. But that was it. No resolution. No epilogue. "What kind of bedtime story bullshit is this?" he muttered. "Not even a happy ending?"

  Mr. Key leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. "I told you to read it. I never said you’d like it."

  Ezra scoffed. "Right. And what exactly am I supposed to take away from this? That some wizard pulled a Houdini with a hot chick and dipped?"

  Mr. Key watched him carefully. "That depends."

  "On what?"

  Mr. Key exhaled. "On whether or not you believe the story is real."

  Ezra stared at him. Then, he snorted. "Oh, come on," he said, shoving the book away. "You don’t actually expect me to buy into this fairytale crap, do you?"

  Mr. Key didn’t answer. He just kept watching.

  Ezra’s smirk faltered. Something in Mr. Key’s gaze sent a shiver down his spine.

  Mr. Key sighed, standing from his desk. He took the book from Ezra’s hands with a deliberate gentleness, brushing his fingers over the worn leather before carefully sliding it back into its pce on the towering bookshelf.

  Ezra leaned back in his chair, watching. "Alright, I read the bedtime story. Now what?"

  Mr. Key didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at the book for a long moment, his expression unreadable. When he finally turned back, his voice was quieter. More measured. "That book was written over a thousand years ago."

  Ezra raised a brow. "Yeah, and?"

  "You don’t take the White Coats seriously. I get it," Mr. Key continued, ignoring the sarcasm in Ezra’s tone. "But my family? We did. We do." He returned to his desk, settling into his chair with a heavy sigh. "I’ve spent years digging into our history, Ezra. I’ve had to cw through half-truths and whispers, trying to piece together what’s been lost to time. But one thing I do know—" He looked Ezra dead in the eye. "—there was a wizard. And Bajookind owes him an eternal debt that nothing in the sor system will ever repay."

  Ezra stared at him. He was waiting for a punchline. Something to tell him this was all an eborate joke. But Mr. Key’s expression didn’t change.

  Ezra let out a sharp exhale. "Okay. Hold on. Just—hold the fuck on." He rubbed his temples. "You’re telling me I just—what? Unlocked ancient, lost technology? Lost to time?" He let out a short, humorless ugh. "The fuck kinda cosmic irony is that?"

  Mr. Key didn’t ugh.

  Ezra frowned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

  Mr. Key leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk. "You know what you’ve done, Ezra. And you know what you want to do next."

  Ezra’s jaw tightened.

  "What do you intend to do with this power?" Mr. Key asked.

  For a moment, Ezra didn’t answer. He ran a hand down his face, staring at the dark screen where the traffic footage had once pyed. He could still hear the sound of the crash in his mind. The screaming mother. The quiet, confused voice of the boy in the backseat after the ECHO had done its work.

  Finally, he spoke. "I just want to bring back Haru." His voice was quieter than he intended. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. "I’ve been trying—hell, I’ve been breaking my fucking mind trying—but the device won’t go beyond thirty minutes." He shook his head. "No matter what I do, I keep hitting a wall."

  Mr. Key watched him closely. Then, after a long silence, he spoke again. "Then help me find the wizard."

  Ezra blinked. "…What?"

  Mr. Key’s expression was calm. Steady. "I’m not asking as your employer. I’m not even asking as a friend." He exhaled, folding his hands together. "I’m asking you as family."

  Ezra swallowed.

  "Please," Mr. Key said. "Help me find him. Improve the device. Don’t give up on it. Keep pushing the boundaries of what’s possible. Make the impossible possible again."

  Ezra felt a headache coming on. A familiar, creeping sensation that coiled at the base of his skull.

  He had been expecting resistance. A lecture. Maybe even a warning—something along the lines of You’re pying with fire, kid. Don’t get burned. But this?

  This was worse.

  Clover would’ve used intimidation. The Silent Legion would’ve used threats. But Mr. Key?

  Mr. Key used something Ezra wasn’t prepared for.

  Guilt.

  And it wasn’t just Mr. Key. Ezra felt it. He felt the weight behind the words—not just from the man sitting in front of him, but from something bigger.

  Mr. Key didn’t ask like a desperate man. He asked like a representative. Like the entirety of humanity was standing behind him, politely and simply asking: please.

  Ezra clenched his jaw. Goddammit. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. Then—after a long, heavy pause—he sighed. "Fine," he muttered. "I’ll do it."

  Ezra found himself back at his b with a cold cup of coffee. He wasn’t sure when the coffee had gone cold.

  He sat in his b, staring at the blueprints sprawled across his desk, fingers drumming rhythmically against the table. His thoughts weren’t on the designs. Not on the equations. Not on the silent hum of the ECHO device resting beside him.

  "Find the wizard."

  Mr. Key’s words wouldn’t stop rattling in his brain. Sure. No problem. He’d just fetch his spellbook, summon fucking Merlin, and get right on that.

  Ezra exhaled sharply through his nose.

  He had spent months shattering reality. Time loops. Echoes. Microscopic reversals of entropy. And now Mr. Key was telling him some ancient fairy tale was the missing piece? He had half a mind to shove that Bajookind book straight up his boss’s ass.

  The pressure was worse than ever. Clover used intimidation. Mr. Key used faith. And faith? That was so much worse.

  Ezra rubbed his temples. He needed air. He needed space. He needed—

  "Man, you look like hell."

  Ezra’s spine stiffened. His fingers twitched. His breath hitched ever so slightly before he turned—

  And there he was. Mr. Shoece.

  Kicked back in the empty chair across from him, feet propped up on the table, arms behind his head like he had been there the whole time.

  Ezra inhaled sharply. "Nope." He turned back to his work. "I’m not doing this right now."

  Shoece grinned. "Yeah, you are."

  Ezra didn’t look up. "No, I’m really fucking not."

  Shoece let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "Y’know," he mused, picking up one of the blueprints and inspecting it, "I thought you’d be happier."

  Ezra finally turned his head, gring. "Happier?"

  "Yeah," Shoece said, grinning. "You did it. You broke time. You’ve got all the pieces. All the variables. All the—" he waved his hand vaguely, "—sciencey bullshit you need."

  Ezra’s eye twitched. "Sciencey bullshit?"

  Shoece ignored him. "So why do you look like someone just asked you to hold up the entire goddamn universe?"

  Ezra scoffed, gesturing vaguely to the b. "Oh, I don’t know," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe it’s because I was just politely asked to go on a fucking wizard hunt and, I don’t know, find goddamn Merlin?!"

  Shoece let out a sharp ugh. "Ohhh, so you finally read the bedtime stories, huh?"

  Ezra leaned forward, fingers steepled together, voice deadpan. "Do not tell me you buy into this Bajookind bullshit."

  Shoece shrugged. "I mean, define bullshit."

  "It’s bullshit," Ezra snapped. "End of definition."

  Shoece chuckled. "Alright, then. What’s your pn, genius?"

  Ezra didn’t answer.

  Shoece smirked. "See, that’s your problem," he mused. "You’re stuck thinking like a scientist. Like a guy who can put numbers on a whiteboard and fix the whole goddamn universe with an equation."

  Ezra crossed his arms. "And?"

  "And that’s not gonna work," Shoece said simply.

  Ezra clenched his jaw.

  "Here’s the thing," Shoece continued, gesturing zily. "Mr. Key wasn’t just telling you to find some ancient wizard. He was telling you to stop looking at this like it’s just a machine."

  Ezra narrowed his eyes. "You want me to believe in magic?"

  Shoece leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His smirk faded slightly. "No," he said, voice quieter. "I want you to believe in what you’ve already seen."

  Ezra hesitated.

  Shoece gestured to the ECHO on the table. "That isn’t just science," he said. "That’s time bending to your will. That’s the past existing in the present. That’s real. You made it real."

  Ezra swallowed hard.

  Shoece leaned back again, stretching zily. "So yeah," he said casually. "Maybe you should start thinking a little less like a scientist…" He gnced toward the blueprints. "And a little more like a wizard."

  Ezra didn’t know why those words hit him like a goddamn truck.

  But they did. Just as quickly he appeared, Mr. Shoece vanished without a trace after Ezra rubbed his eyes.