"The cloning technology is getting worse. Recently, ten clones killed the original human last night in a brutal manner.... They entered the original one's house without any trace, so everyone, please be alert...." The reporter's voice rang through the silent hall. A man let out a deep, drained exhale, escaping his lips like a slowly deflating balloon. His broad shoulders slumped against the comfortable sofa, and his index finger turned off the running LED television with a remote as he loosened the tight collar neck button. In tiredness, his heavy eyelids were slowly closing, seeking rest to escape reality.A sudden, automatic voice announced in a machine tone, "Heat water ready," breaking a pleasant rest and waking him. He yawned, covering his mouth as he rose, pushing himself towards his room with an unfocused sleepy gaze. A slight looseness in his sapped shoulder as he absently unbuttoned the remaining ones. He stood outside the washroom, sensor sensing his presence, and the glass

Arthur pressed the pause button, and his expression remained calm; his coldness showed no pity on his face. "Anything new other than this?" he enquired. A deep, venomous tone laced his words as he leaned against the chair comfortably, and his gaze fixed on the assistant manager's face."No, sir..." The assistant manager answered, his tone lowered, and a hint of hesitation in his voice. "Sir, now the suicide rate is increasing day by day...."Arthur stopped spinning the chair, and a knowing smirk appeared on his lips. He rose slowly from his chair; his movements were confident and precise as he adjusted his coat and walked towards the glass view. His gaze shifted to the stunning high-tech cityscape with a glad expression, and he inhaled the fresh, clean oxygen. "Reason?" "Sir..." The assistant manager called out, swallowing hard, hesitant in his movements. "Same reason... There is no peace in their life. He wrote it in his last suicide note."Arthur stood silently, his gaze fixed on t

How did the scar happen?" Wyatt's brows narrowed as his mind processed the scene, but it meant nothing to his memory."Is he really my future version? If he is... why did he come to this period, not before my memory got wiped? Why does my memory get wiped? What was the reason behind it? " He questioned himself in a low murmur as he slipped his hand into the parcel again and pulled out another paper and unfolded it with a crumpled paper."I hope you read the previous paper.This is your evidence; it will make sense by tomorrow evening.Just follow my instructions and wake up tomorrow at sharp 7:00 and get ready in a normal suit or your favourite dress. This is my first thing; now place the paper on your table and take a peaceful nap... I can guide you tomorrow... Don't get freaked, and you must read this tomorrow, not today...""This guy is ordering even on this tiny paper..." Wyatt wondered as he placed the paper and cards on a nearby table and lay on the bed, spreading his shoulder,

Burnt!" Anabella's eyes widened in confusion as she looked at her left hand. Still, her gaze remained on the burnt wound intently for the first time, and her expression was one of figuring out the puzzle. "How did this happen?" she whispered in a low murmur."Pardon?" he asked as his gaze focused and he waited patiently for her reply."I have no idea, son.... I am aged right, getting forgetful for a few moments..." Anabella replied, forcing a gentle smile, and there was no hesitation in her tone. This question cleared all my doubts and shows the true intention of that bastard... Wyatt was excited, and his curiosity piqued inside his mind about the last question. "Okay... Final question. "What's the best moment in your life or an unforgettable moment?" he asked, delivering his final question as if it were a checkmate."That's an interesting question...." Anabella chuckled as she straightened her posture. "Being independent and doing service to others... was the best thing in my life,"

Wyatt woke up slowly with a heavy, trembling tired body, a cold sweat clinging to his skin even in the AC's freezing chill. Alex's threatening voice was gone, Astrid's sweet texts were gone, memories were gone, but the question wasn't. He tried to sit up, but his body felt heavy. "What was that? "Tell me!" he mumbled, a low, desperate plea as he tumbled out of bed, without balance, crashing to the floor with a sharp thud. But Wyatt didn't bother; he slowly pushed himself up, his hands shaking as he gripped the bed and wall. He stumbled, dragging his feet towards the Calloway, and fell near the sofa."What have you done to me?" Wyatt roared, his voice echoed throughout the entire room, raw pain in his scream. He pressed his forehead harder to relieve the headache pain. "Why does my head hurt?" he asked, his tone lowering and weakening. "Please... answer me.""I know Aldric..." Calloway replied, his voice calm, betraying no emotion to show his inner pain as he pressed another untouched