A daunting realization settled over her as Iris closed the red book like a heavy fog. Planning a birthday party in a single day seemed nearly impossible. The ticking clock echoed in her ears, each passing second a reminder of how little time she had to make Xavier's birthday unforgettable.

  Panic began to creep in, threatening to paralyze her with indecision. But then, amid the fear, a steely resolve took root. This was not merely about throwing a party but honoring a precious memory and fulfilling a promise. Her future self's desperate plea resonated deeply within her, igniting a determination to alter their intertwined fates. Iris knew she couldn’t let doubt hold her back; she had to act, and she had to do it now.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed aside her panic and began mentally organizing everything: decorations, a cake, gifts, and a venue. She realized she would need help—and fast. But for her friends, and for the chance to rewrite a tragic future, she was willing to tackle any obstacle. Today was about more than a celebration; it was a statement of hope and defiance.

  With newfound purpose surging through her, Iris bolted out of her room. Spotting that the elevator was packed, she didn't hesitate—she leaped over the railing, her heart pounding wildly. In that split second, a flick of her wrist summoned a burst of flames that encircled her, softening her descent. The scorching marks left on the floor were an unwelcome testament to her haste, yet at this moment, property damage was the least of her worries.

  She sprinted down the corridors, her small flames fueling her speed, leaving a fiery trail in her wake. Every scorch mark along the way was a reminder of the urgency of her mission. Soon, she reached Wallace’s office—her beacon of hope in this chaotic facility. As she neared the door, a familiar voice echoed through the hallway. It was Fate.

  Instinctively, Iris ducked behind the door, her curiosity piqued by his unexpected presence. The race against time had begun, and with a determined heart, she prepared to face whatever challenges lay ahead—ready to change destiny, one precious moment at a time.

  “Well, I should take my leave—I grow restless when I'm away from my library for too long,” Fate declared, his tone coolly dismissive as he prepared to depart.

  “Wait a minute, you're not leaving until you answer my question!” Wallace's voice rang out, firm and laced with frustration.

  Fate’s expression hardened. “I refuse to answer any questions about her. Under no circumstances will I provide that information,” he snapped, his tone equally resolute.

  “Why now? You've always been so forthcoming, offering answers to every question we've posed. What’s so special about her?” Wallace pressed, desperation creeping into his voice.

  A wry smile played at Fate’s lips as he countered, “Tell me—why have you taken such an interest in her? Depending on your answer, I might consider giving you one.”

  Wallace’s frustration flared. “I tested her blood—it isn’t entirely hu—” he began, only to be cut off sharply by Fate’s interjection.

  “Not another word,” Fate barked. “You have a student here for you,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. As he turned to leave, his gaze briefly met Iris’s, sending a shiver down her spine. In that fleeting moment, she felt an unsettling connection—as if their destinies were irreversibly intertwined.

  As Fate strode past, the echo of his parting words lingered in the corridor. Iris couldn’t shake the feeling that this enigmatic man was somehow pivotal to her future. Yet there was no time to linger on mysteries now. Determination replaced uncertainty as she resolved to make Xavier’s birthday unforgettable—a small but potent defiance against the dark fate hinted at by her future self.

  Iris stepped into Wallace's office, and a flash of shock briefly crossed his face. He nearly blurted out sensitive details before quickly composing himself, his mind racing with the hope that she hadn't overheard their crucial conversation.

  “Ah, Iris,” Wallace greeted, forcing a smile as he leaned back in his chair. “I didn't expect to see you at such a late hour. What can I do for you?”

  There was an unmistakable edge in his tone—a subtle tension that Iris couldn’t ignore. His eyes, which had just been wide with surprise, now flickered with a mix of concern and guarded curiosity as he tried to mask his initial reaction.

  Determined to get to the bottom of the matter, Iris pressed, “Who was that man you were arguing with earlier?”

  Wallace shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his calm fa?ade beginning to crack. “Oh, him? Just a colleague, nothing more. It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he replied, forcing a casual smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Iris studied him, noting how he carefully adjusted his posture, as if bracing himself against a tide of hidden truths. “Really?” she persisted, her tone soft but insistent. “You seemed… tense. Are you sure there’s nothing I should know?”

  Wallace’s gaze narrowed for a moment before he quickly diverted his eyes. “I assure you, Iris, it was nothing. Just some trivial disagreement that doesn’t concern you,” he said, his voice steady but betraying a hint of nervousness.

  Though his words were calm, the way his eyes darted away and his hands fidgeted told a different story—one of secrets, unease, and a desperate effort to hide the truth.

  She narrowed her eyes, suspicion flickering across her face, but she chose to let it go for now. Her thoughts were already fixed on something far more urgent—Xavier’s birthday. “I want to celebrate our classmates’ birthdays,” Iris said firmly, steering the conversation away from Fate. “I was hoping you could help.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Wallace’s eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. “What a coincidence—Xavier’s birthday is tomorrow. Normally, we don’t bother with birthdays here, but I’ll help you,” he replied, his tone softening as the fortuitous timing piqued his curiosity.

  “Why don’t you celebrate birthdays here?” Iris inquired, genuine puzzlement in her voice.

  With a shrug, Wallace admitted, “We’ve just never had the time. But maybe it’s time we start making time. I’ll talk to Jonathan about setting up regular celebrations. Just to be clear…this isn’t just a ploy to get your own birthday party, right? It’s on September 14th, a week from now.”

  Iris shook her head, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips as she tried to appear nonchalant. “No, it’s not about me,” she explained. “I just found out Xavier’s birthday is coming up, and I thought we could finally give him the celebration he deserves.” She hoped Wallace wouldn’t press her too hard about how she knew—her future self’s influence was something she’d rather keep hidden for now.

  Wallace leaned back, studying her with a curious yet warm expression. “That’s thoughtful,” he said, tapping a finger on his desk. “Xavier’s a good kid—quiet, but full of potential. He could use a little joy in his life, and so could all of you.”

  Iris nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his words. “Yeah, I think it would be nice for everyone to get together and celebrate, especially with everything we’ve been through.”

  A genuine smile broke through on Wallace’s face as the earlier tension eased away. “Alright, I’ll help. We can arrange a cake, decorations, and a few gifts. I’ll handle most of the preparations. And as for Markus—I’ve got a special role for him,” he added with a playful chuckle.

  Relief and gratitude shone in Iris’s eyes. “Thank you, Wallace. It means a lot,” she said softly, the promise of a small, happy celebration a beacon of light amid their otherwise tumultuous lives.

  Wallace waved a dismissive hand. “No need to thank me—just doing my job,” he said with a warm smile. Then his tone grew more serious as he leaned forward. “But I have to ask, how did you find out about Xavier’s birthday? It’s not exactly common knowledge around here.”

  Iris hesitated, a pang of nervousness flickering across her face. She forced herself to think quickly. “I… overheard a conversation,” she lied, trying to keep her voice steady. “Someone mentioned it in passing, and it just stuck with me.”

  Wallace raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing her for a moment before nodding slowly. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it. Just be careful, Iris. Sometimes knowing too much can be… complicated,” he warned, his tone gentle yet firm.

  Swallowing hard, Iris nodded. “I understand,” she murmured quietly. Rising from her seat, she felt a mix of relief and lingering unease. “I’m going to head back to my room—I’m starting to get tired.”

  As she reached the door, Wallace called after her, “Just remember, Iris, we’re all in this together. Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need help.”

  She paused, turning back with a small, grateful smile. “I won’t. Thank you, Wallace,” she said softly before slipping out of the office, her mind racing with the weight of her secret and the challenges that lay ahead.

  The moment Iris returned to her room, the weight of the day’s events hit her like a tidal wave. Exhausted, she collapsed onto her bed, kicking off her shoes before curling under the covers. Her mind buzzed with plans for Xavier’s birthday, Wallace’s unsettling questions, and the cryptic warnings from Fate. Sleep overtook her quickly, plunging her into a vivid, unsettling dream.

  In the dream, Iris stood in a dimly lit room filled with the oppressive scent of despair. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, yet one book—the red book—sat open on a solitary desk, its pages aglow with candlelight. As Iris approached, she saw her future self, older and burdened with sorrow, hunched over the book. Tears streamed down her face, smudging the ink as if each drop carried a lifetime of regret.

  The room was no ordinary space—it was a colossal birdcage, its thick, menacing bars casting long, grasping shadows over a pit strewn with bones, a stark reminder of consequences long past. The air was icy, heavy with a palpable scent of despair.

  Suddenly, a blurred figure emerged behind her future self—a demon born of pure malevolence. Shrouded in darkness, his features were impossible to discern, yet the aura of unadulterated evil that radiated from him was unmistakable. He leaned close, whispering static-like words that sent shivers down Iris’s spine. Her future self’s face contorted in anguish, a silent scream of hopelessness etched into every line.

  Powerless, Iris watched as tears fell freely, each one a testament to suffering endured. The demon’s cold, calculating gaze then turned directly toward her, as if peering through time and space to imprint a promise of pain and inevitable fate.

  The demon’s eyes gleamed with malicious delight as he fixed his gaze on Iris. “Take a good look—this is your future. I’ll make sure it repeats itself. You’ll be nothing more than my toy, confined in this cage,” he sneered, his voice dripping with vile promise.

  Just as the tension reached its zenith, the demon’s form began to blur and dissolve, until he was nothing more than a shifting, ominous shadow, and the entire room melted into darkness.

  Iris awoke with a start, her heart pounding wildly as she realized tears stained her cheeks. The tears were real, though their cause remained shrouded in the mystery of her dream.

  Lying in bed, trying to steady her racing breath, Iris couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of impending doom. The vision had been more than a nightmare—it felt like a dire warning, a glimpse into a future she desperately needed to avoid. In that moment, she knew that the demon, whatever monstrous force he embodied, had to be stopped. She had to alter the course of her destiny, to ensure that the horrors she had witnessed would never come to pass.

  With a determined exhale, Iris wiped away her tears. The road ahead was uncertain and fraught with dangers, but she resolved to face them head-on—for herself, for her friends, and for a future that was still hers to shape. As the first light of dawn crept into her room, Iris steeled herself, her resolve hardening with every heartbeat.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sharp sound of banging on her door. She quickly rose, straightened her clothes, and opened the door to find Wallace standing there, his expression unusually enthusiastic.

  “When your classes are over, bring your entire class to the third gymnasium. None of them know about this, so it’ll be a nice surprise,” Wallace instructed, his eyes gleaming with a rare warmth.

  “Got it. Once again, thank you so much for this,” Iris replied, her voice bubbling with happiness and gratitude.

  “No, thank you. You all deserve to enjoy life, not be treated as mere weapons for protecting mankind,” Wallace said gently, his tone firm but kind. With a nod, he turned and left, leaving Iris with a deep appreciation for the man who, despite the many secrets he harbored, truly cared for them.

  As the door closed behind him, Iris brushed away a stray tear. The weight of Wallace’s words settled in her heart, reinforcing her determination that today wasn’t just about a celebration—it was about reclaiming a semblance of normalcy for her friends. With renewed purpose, she prepared for Xavier’s party, eager to create a memory that might just alter the dark course of their future.