I had spent my first life believing that remembering the future would be the greatest advantage a person could possibly have.
After all, what could be more powerful than knowing which companies would succeed, which inventions would change the world, which disasters would happen, and which decisions would eventually lead to prosperity or ruin?
When I first returned to the past, I had thought of my memories as a map.
All I needed to do was follow it, avoid the mistakes I had made before, and make better choices along the way.
That morning, I realized how wrong I had been.
I sat at my desk with my notebook open in front of me, staring at a date I had written down from memory.
It was something insignificant compared with the events I remembered from the war.
A small local business was supposed to close around this time.
I remembered passing its location years later and seeing an empty storefront where it had once operated.
I even remembered the reason: the owner had supposedly accumulated too much debt after a failed expansion.
Except the business was still open.
I had walked past the place the previous afternoon.
The sign was still there, and the owner was still serving customers.
Nothing had happened.
At first, I assumed I had remembered the date incorrectly.
That was entirely possible.
Even with HEMS, my memories weren’t magical prophecies.
I could remember what I had seen, heard, and experienced with extraordinary accuracy, but my interpretation of those memories could still be wrong.
So I checked.
Fortunately, I had already prepared for situations like this.
A few days earlier, I had secretly bought a secondhand laptop using part of the money I had earned.
It wasn’t anything impressive by the standards of my first life, but it was more than enough for what I needed.
I wanted something capable of browsing the internet, storing documents, and eventually running the engineering software I planned to use.
Getting it into the house without attracting too much attention had been more difficult than actually buying it.
My parents naturally wanted to know what I had spent my money on, so I told them I had saved enough from the small jobs I had been doing and decided to buy a laptop for school.
That wasn’t entirely a lie.
I did intend to use it for school eventually, and considering how much the family had benefited from the money I had already earned, my parents didn’t press the matter too much.
The internet connection was another problem.
We didn’t have a reliable connection at home, and I didn’t want to spend hours sitting in an internet café every time I needed to research something.
Aside from the inconvenience, I didn’t like the idea of conducting financial research or storing my notes on a public computer.
So I bought a prepaid mobile broadband USB dongle and a SIM card.
The connection wasn’t particularly fast, and sometimes the signal became so unstable that I had to wait for a page to load several times, but it was enough for basic research.
More importantly, I could use it privately.
I kept the laptop hidden when I wasn’t using it and only connected the dongle when necessary.
It wasn’t the most sophisticated setup, but it gave me something I hadn’t had before.
A private workspace.
I opened the browser and searched through old newspaper reports, archived pages, and whatever business information I could find.
The slow connection forced me to be patient, but eventually I found the information I needed.
The business hadn’t closed that year.
It had closed three years later.
I leaned back in my chair.
That shouldn’t have surprised me.
And yet it did.
The problem wasn’t that my memory had been wrong.
The problem was that I had changed something.
Maybe it was small.
Maybe it had nothing to do with the business at all.
Perhaps the owner had made a different decision because of some unrelated event.
Maybe the economic conditions had changed slightly.
There were countless possible explanations.
But I couldn’t ignore the possibility.
My actions were already affecting the timeline.
I opened my notebook and wrote a sentence beneath the date.
Future event differs from memory.
I stared at it for several seconds before adding another.
Possible cause: timeline divergence.
Then I underlined the second sentence.
The realization was both exciting and unsettling.
Until now, I had been thinking about the future as though it were fixed.
I remembered the road because I had already traveled it once.
I simply had to move faster and take better turns.
But if the road itself could change whenever I made a decision, then every prediction came with a condition.
I knew what had happened.
I didn’t necessarily know what would happen again.
I closed the notebook.
“That’s going to make things complicated.”
There was no point worrying about it yet.
I still had school, and there were already enough things happening there to keep me occupied.
The first person to return was Edmund.
My younger brother had finally recovered from chickenpox, and after several days of staying home, he was allowed to return to school.
Since he and Niel were classmates, his return also meant that he would be going back to the same classroom where Niel had been before the attack.
That morning, Edmund was standing near the doorway with his school bag hanging from one shoulder, looking much healthier than he had the last time I saw him.
“Don’t forget your English book,” I reminded him.
He gave me an annoyed look.
“I have it.”
“You forgot it last time.”
“That was before I got sick.”
“And that’s supposed to make me trust you?”
He rolled his eyes.
“I have it.”
I smiled.
“Good.
Then go.”
He took a few steps before turning around.
“Kuya.”
“What?”
“Thanks.”
I knew what he meant.
The English book report had been the reason I had gone to school that day.
If Edmund hadn’t gotten sick, if he hadn’t needed me to submit his report, I might never have met Rosalie the way I did.
I gave him a small nod.
“Just don’t forget your homework again.”
He laughed before heading out.
I watched him leave.
It was a small thing.
My brother returning to school.
Nothing historic.
Nothing that would appear in a future textbook.
But I couldn’t help thinking about how different it felt.
In my first life, I hadn’t appreciated moments like this.
I had been too busy worrying about survival, money, school, work, and eventually the war.
Ordinary days had seemed insignificant because there had always been something more important waiting ahead.
Now I understood that ordinary days were exactly what I had been fighting to preserve.
By the time I reached school, Edmund was already in his classroom.
And apparently, he wasn’t the only one returning.
Niel came back a few days later.
The first thing I noticed when he entered the classroom was that he was still covered in enough bandages to make him look like he had lost a fight with an entire hospital.
He dropped his bag beside his chair and carefully sat down.
“Don’t say anything.”
I looked at him.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking you look ridiculous.”
“See?
That’s exactly what I meant.”
I couldn’t help laughing.
Niel grinned before immediately wincing and touching his side.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.
It still hurts, but I’m fine.
The doctor said I just need to take it easy.”
“You should probably listen to him.”
“I am listening.”
“You just said that while jumping down the stairs.”
“That was controlled.”
“You almost fell.”
“But I didn’t.”
I shook my head.
Some things apparently hadn’t changed.
Edmund was sitting nearby, and when he saw Niel, his expression changed.
“Hey.”
Niel looked over.
“Edmund.”
“You really got messed up.”
I feel much better now.”
Edmund laughed.
“I heard what happened.”
Niel shrugged.
“It’s nothing.”
I looked at him.
He immediately corrected himself.
“Okay, it’s not nothing.
But I’m still here.”
Edmund nodded.
“You should be careful.”
Niel smiled.
“You’re starting to sound like your brother.”
“That’s because he’s annoying.”
“See?” I said.
“Your brother understands me.”
Edmund shook his head.
“You two are weird.”
For a moment, the three of us laughed.
It was a simple scene, but I found myself watching them longer than I should have.
Edmund and Niel had been classmates before I ever started paying attention to the future.
In my first life, I had never thought twice about it.
Now, seeing them together made me realize how much of my second life was beginning to differ from the first.
Rosalie arrived a few minutes later, and the moment she saw Niel, her expression softened.
“You’re back.”
“Unfortunately.”
She smiled.
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
Niel glanced between the two of us, and a grin slowly appeared on his face.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re making a face.”
“I always make this face.”
“No, you don’t.”
Rosalie looked between us.
“What are you two talking about?”
“Nothing,” Niel said.
I narrowed my eyes.
He grinned wider.
“Actually, I was just wondering something.”
“Don’t.”
“Are you two still pretending you’re only friends?”
Rosalie froze.
Her face turned red almost instantly.
I sighed.
“Niel.”
“What?”
“You were in the hospital because people were looking for information about us, and this is what you decided to do when you came back?”
“I’m recovering.”
“Apparently not enough.”
Rosalie covered her face with one hand while Niel laughed until his side hurt again.
“Ow.
Okay.
Maybe I should stop.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying.”
Despite everything that had happened, seeing him back in his chair made something inside me relax.
I hadn’t realized how much his absence had bothered me until he was sitting there again, complaining about schoolwork like nothing had happened.
But there was one difference.
He was more careful now.
He checked the hallway before leaving the classroom.
He avoided certain groups of older students and didn’t walk around alone as casually as he had before.
I couldn’t blame him.
Neither could I ignore what had happened.
Dante was still there.
He hadn’t approached me again, but that didn’t mean the problem had disappeared.
If anything, the silence made me more suspicious.
During lunch, I began paying attention again.
Dante sat with several students near the far side of the courtyard.
I didn’t stare at him directly.
Instead, I observed through reflections, peripheral vision, and brief glances whenever I had a reason to look in that direction.
He wasn’t alone.
Two of the boys who had been with him during the attack were there, but another older student had joined them.
I didn’t recognize him.
I memorized his face.
The older student spoke quietly while Dante listened.
After a few minutes, the man stood and left.
I watched where he went.
He didn’t return to our building.
Instead, he walked toward the school gate.
Interesting.
I wrote a small note in my notebook later.
Unknown older student.
Possible connection to Dante.
Then another thought occurred to me.
Why had Dante’s group asked Niel where I lived?
That question still bothered me.
If Dante was angry because I was walking Rosalie home, he could have confronted me directly.
If he wanted to scare me, he could have threatened me at school.
Instead, they had asked Niel about my house.
That suggested something beyond simple jealousy.
I closed my notebook.
I wasn’t going to confront Dante yet.
Not without knowing what I was dealing with.
I had already learned enough from my first life to understand that being stronger than someone didn’t automatically mean confronting them was the smartest choice.
There were too many ways a conflict could become bigger than the people involved.
For now, observation was enough.
After school, Rosalie walked beside me as usual.
“You’ve been quiet.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“You always think.”
“That’s true.”
She looked at me for a moment.
“About Dante?”
I glanced at her.
“Partly.”
She lowered her eyes.
“Are you still angry?”
I knew exactly what she meant.
“Yes.”
She looked surprised by my answer.
I continued before she could misunderstand.
“I’m angry that he hurt Niel.
I’m angry that he keeps causing problems.
But I’m not going to do something stupid just because I’m angry.”
She smiled faintly.
“You’re really different.”
I had heard her say that before.
This time, I didn’t try to avoid the subject.
“Different how?”
“You think about things more.
Before, you would just do something and figure out the consequences later.”
I almost laughed.
She had no idea how accurate that was.
“I guess I’m trying to learn.”
“You’re only fourteen.”
“I know.”
She smiled.
“Sometimes you don’t act like it.”
I looked at her for a moment before smiling back.
“I guess I’ve had a lot to think about.”
“Like what?”
“Things I should have noticed sooner.”
There were some things I couldn’t explain yet.
Not because I didn’t trust her, but because some answers would only create more questions.
Instead, I changed the subject.
“Rosalie?”
“Hmm?”
“If something changes in the future, would you notice?”
She looked confused.
“That’s a strange question.”
“I know.”
She thought about it.
“I guess it depends on what changes.”
I smiled slightly.
“That’s what I thought.”
She bumped my shoulder lightly.
“You’re being mysterious again.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re always sorry.”
“That sounds like a personal problem.”
She laughed.
The sound made me smile.
For a moment, I forgot about Dante.
I forgot about the future.
I forgot about everything except the fact that I was walking home beside someone I had once lost.
And perhaps that was the point.
I couldn’t spend every day treating my second life like a military operation.
I had already spent one lifetime surviving.
I wanted to actually live this one.
When I got home, however, reality returned almost immediately.
I waited until everyone was occupied before retrieving my laptop and placing it on my desk.
I connected the prepaid mobile broadband dongle, waited for the signal to stabilize, and opened the documents I had been building over the past few days.
The laptop had quickly become more useful than I had originally expected.
I used it to organize my notes, record financial information, store technical references, and keep separate files for Mana research and future events.
My notebooks were still useful for calculations and sketches, but the computer gave me something paper couldn’t.
Organization.
I could search through hundreds of notes in seconds instead of flipping through pages.
That alone made the small investment worthwhile.
I opened the document containing my financial plans.
The money from my mother’s small lottery win had helped us considerably.
We had been able to buy things my family genuinely needed, and for the first time in a long while, my parents didn’t have to worry about every small expense.
But that wasn’t enough.
If I really intended to change the future, I needed resources.
A lot of them.
The secret laboratory I wanted wouldn’t build itself.
Neither would the machines, robotics, energy systems, or other technologies I intended to develop.
Money wasn’t the goal.
It was a tool.
And I needed to start treating it like one.
I divided the money I had access to into several categories: family expenses, education, equipment, investments, and an emergency reserve.
I didn’t intend to throw everything into one opportunity simply because I remembered that it would eventually become valuable.
That would be reckless.
I had knowledge of the future, but I didn’t have absolute control over it anymore.
That realization kept returning to me.
The future was changing.
That meant I needed a strategy that could survive those changes.
Instead of relying entirely on predictions, I needed to build something sustainable.
A foundation.
I began listing industries that I remembered becoming important later.
Technology, telecommunications, energy, semiconductors, manufacturing, logistics, software.
There were opportunities everywhere, but there was another problem.
I was fourteen.
I couldn’t simply walk into a brokerage firm and start investing millions of pesos under my own name.
Even if I had the money, there were legal and practical restrictions I needed to consider.
That meant I needed someone I could trust.
Someone older.
Someone financially capable.
Someone who wouldn’t ask too many questions about where my ideas came from.
My thoughts immediately went to someone from my first life.
My old friend.
He had eventually become extremely good with finance and business management.
At the time, I hadn’t appreciated how valuable that skill was because I had been more interested in physics and engineering.
Now I understood.
A company needed more than inventions.
It needed someone who knew how to keep the company alive.
I wrote his name in my notebook.
Then I stopped.
Not yet.
He was still too young.
And I wasn’t ready to involve him.
First, I needed to build something worth protecting.
I closed the financial document and opened another file.
The one containing my research into Mana and runes.
Aetheris had proven that my understanding was advancing.
But another thought had been bothering me since the previous night.
If the future was changing because of my actions, then perhaps the technology I remembered from the war could change too.
What if I created something before the aliens ever arrived?
What if I discovered something they had already mastered?
What if the technology that had once taken humanity years to understand could be reproduced decades earlier?
I looked at the rune diagrams on my screen.
One rune.
Then another.
Then a sequence connecting them.
I remembered the alien artifacts again.
They had been far more complicated.
Not merely because there were more runes, but because the runes interacted.
They responded to conditions, controlled energy, and seemed capable of changing their behavior depending on what happened elsewhere in the system.
That was what had bothered me.
It wasn’t simply their complexity.
It was their organization.
I opened a new page and began drawing a simple flow diagram.
Input.
Process.
Condition.
Output.
Feedback.
I stared at it.
The shape of the idea was familiar.
Far too familiar.
I had spent most of my first life working with computers, control systems, robotics, and engineering.
I knew what programmed logic looked like.
And suddenly, I wondered whether I had been approaching runes from the wrong direction entirely.
Maybe the question wasn’t, “What does this rune do?”
Maybe the better question was, “How does this rune behave when something changes?”
I wrote that down.
Then I stopped.
I didn’t have the answer yet.
But for the first time, I had a question worth pursuing.
I saved the document and closed the laptop.
The small machine had cost me a considerable portion of the money I had earned, but I was beginning to realize that it might become one of the most important purchases I had made.
It wasn’t just a computer.
It was the first piece of infrastructure for the future I intended to build.
I disconnected the mobile dongle, closed the laptop, and carefully put it away before anyone noticed what I had been doing.
Then I sat quietly in the darkness of my room.
Outside my window, the neighborhood was peaceful.
Somewhere in the distance, a motorcycle passed along the road, followed by the faint bark of a dog.
Everything looked normal.
But I knew better now.
The future wasn’t waiting for me.
It was moving.
And every decision I made was becoming another variable.
I had spent my first life trying to survive a future that I thought was inevitable.
This time, I was going to find out just how much of it could be changed.