I was hit and killed seven times while delivering food.
Same order, same intersection, same black car. The seventh time I opened my eyes from the pool of blood, I finally saw the driver's face clearly - it was me. What's even weirder is that not only can I go back in time infinitely, but every time I die again, my memory of the city's labyrinth becomes clearer: where are the hidden surveillance corners, which alleys lead to abandoned morgues, and who would walk through the underground passage alone at three in the morning. I gradually discovered that this carefully planned murder was much more than a traffic accident.
When the eighth cycle began, I was not in a hurry to deliver the fatal takeout, but stopped the car in advance. This time, it was my turn to let "him" taste the feeling of being abandoned by time.
