He headed toward the library at a brisk pace. The answers to his questions were there.

  He thought: That makes three people now, intimately tied to my Trial… Jeff, my mother, and that mysterious man. I need to get to the bottom of this.

  The tension inside him kept rising. Every step brought him closer to a possible truth.

  He found himself standing before the library.

  The same building—still just as imposing… and still just as out of place.

  He grabbed the library door handle, swallowed, then crossed the threshold.

  The light filled the room with a different quality. In this loop, he had come much earlier—the lighting wasn’t quite the same. But that did nothing to diminish the place’s mysticism.

  He walked toward the couch where he had sat last time with the mysterious man.

  And there he was.

  The man sat composed, a chessboard set before him, two cups and a teapot resting on the low table.

  Kael froze.

  Just as elegant as ever, the man leaned back into the couch, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees. His voice—rough yet calm—carried through the room.

  “I’m pleased to see you again.”

  He gestured lightly toward the couch opposite him.

  “Please, have a seat.”

  Kael stammered,

  “Again? But… how—”

  He didn’t get to finish.

  “I know,” the man replied gently, cutting him off. “You’re a bit confused. But please, sit down.”

  Kael obeyed without pressing the issue. The man poured tea into both cups and handed one to him.

  Still shaken, Kael took the cup.

  I don’t understand… how can he know about the loop? he thought.

  The man continued, his tone measured:

  “You must be wondering how I know that you’re reliving the same day.”

  Kael hadn’t noticed it at first, but a small stack of black books—identical to the three he still kept in his room—rested on the table.

  An irrepressible urge seized him: the desire to open them, to read them immediately.

  He restrained himself.

  His gaze returned to the man.

  He answered, hesitantly:

  “Yes… how is that possible? Everyone I’ve met today is reliving the same day without questioning it.”

  The mysterious man allowed himself a faint smile.

  “But you do question it. That’s precisely why you’re here—at this exact moment.”

  Kael stammered, unsettled:

  “I don’t see where you’re going with this…”

  The man brought his teacup to his lips without breaking eye contact. His gaze was intense, his colorless eyes fixed—almost hypnotic.

  A sudden tingling ran along the back of Kael’s neck. He swallowed with difficulty.

  “Who are you?” he asked, his voice tight.

  This isn’t normal… Kael thought. He’s an Elan wielder. I’m almost certain of it.

  “Who I am…” the man echoed.

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  He paused, letting his fingers glide over the chess pieces.

  “An excellent question.”

  He didn’t truly answer. Instead, he methodically arranged the pieces on the board, one by one. Then, in an even tone:

  “Would you care for a game, young man?”

  Kael studied him for a moment, intrigued.

  “Of course. But… are you planning to answer the question?”

  The man smiled faintly, without lifting his eyes.

  “You’ll take White. I’ll play Black.”

  Kael made the first move—a classic, solid opening. The man responded almost immediately, placing his piece without hesitation.

  The game began.

  “I do intend to answer,” the man said, his gaze fixed on the board.

  Then he added softly:

  “But first, tell me… what does it mean to be, to you?”

  Kael blinked, caught off guard by the question. He thought for a moment, then replied as he advanced another piece:

  “To me, being means… existing.”

  The man observed the move, nodded slightly. He replied calmly, shifting a piece with measured precision.

  “You are not fundamentally wrong.

  But don’t you find that a little reductive?”

  He slowly raised his eyes to Kael.

  “Does something exist… simply because it exists?

  If we follow your reasoning, then a mere stone is as well.”

  Silence briefly reclaimed its place, broken only by the steady rhythm of the moves being played.

  They were playing at a high level. Each movement was clean, precise. Neither treated the other lightly. Every piece moved seemed to carry more weight than a simple tactical choice. It was an exchange. A duel of ideas as much as of strategy.

  The game continued—tense, balanced. Neither gained the upper hand.

  Yet something in the air, in the words left unspoken, suggested that the true stakes lay elsewhere than on the board.

  Kael remained silent for a moment, studying the position. The pieces already formed a complex entanglement—a field of tension where each move felt like the expression of an idea rather than a mere strategy.

  “You’re right,” he finally admitted.

  He moved his piece—measured, defensive, but precise.

  Across from him, the man allowed himself an almost imperceptible smile.

  “Disappointed by your own impertinence?” he murmured, a trace of gentle irony in his voice.

  Without waiting, he made his move. His play remained confident, elegant. Each piece shifted with effortless mastery. He controlled the board—without ever crushing Kael.

  “You see,” he continued calmly, “to be… is not merely to exist.

  It is to seek oneself. To build oneself.

  To give meaning to what one embodies—even when one does not yet know what that meaning is.”

  Kael studied the position, his brows faintly drawn together. He thought for a long moment before responding.

  His fingers rested on a piece, hesitating for an instant—then slid it forward with certainty. A clever counter.

  The man lifted his eyes, amused by the resistance.

  “To build oneself…” Kael replied. “Then being is a movement, not a state.”

  “Exactly,” the man answered.

  His tone remained even, almost professorial. He played an offensive move, forcing Kael to defend once more.

  “To be,” he went on, “is to strive toward something without ever fixing oneself to it. It is to seek coherence within chaos—a form within shadow.”

  Their exchange dissolved into the steady clink of the pieces. The moves followed one another—precise, controlled.

  The man retained the advantage, but Kael yielded nothing. He adapted. Withdrew. Countered. With every avoided mistake, his confidence grew.

  At last, the man looked up at him.

  “You learn quickly.

  Perhaps even faster than you realize.”

  Kael held his gaze without answering. His fingers rested on a rook, motionless, suspended between caution and audacity.

  Then he played.

  A simple move. But the right one.

  And this time, it was the man who paused for a few seconds before resuming the game.

  “And you, young man… who are you?” the man asked, without lifting his eyes from the board.

  Kael froze.

  A few seconds passed.

  He didn’t answer right away.

  His fingers brushed against a piece. He remained still for a moment, focused, then moved his knight with a sharp motion. Still without looking at his opponent, he let out a quiet laugh.

  “I wouldn’t be here if I knew.”

  He paused, then added in a more neutral tone:

  “At first glance, I’m just an ordinary boy. I work hard to survive.

  I try to stay true to my principles. To live… simply.”

  He straightened slightly.

  “But lately, my life has changed quite a bit.

  You could say I was… torn away from everything I knew.”

  The man played in turn, calmly.

  “For better… or for worse, in your opinion?” he replied.

  Kael studied the board in silence, searching for an answer among the pieces.

  Then he exhaled.

  “I don’t know.”

  He advanced a rook, cutting off a threat.

  “Since then, I’ve nearly died a dozen times. From just about everything… and anything.”

  His tone wasn’t bitter—only lucid.

  “That was already somewhat true before, actually.

  Back then… I just had to avoid certain streets.

  Certain people. The kind you don’t cross.

  Or even… look at.”

  “Now…”

  A faint shiver ran up his spine. His jaw tightened slightly.

  “Now, everything has changed.

  Everything is moving far too fast.”

  He finally lifted his eyes to the man, as if searching for an explanation he had never allowed himself to articulate.

  Kael studied the board for a long moment.

  The position was against him—but a breach was forming. Discreet. Almost invisible.

  He moved his piece with confidence.

  An unexpected move. Elegant. Decisive.

  The man went still.

  A thin smile—hard to contain—touched the corner of his lips.

  He stared at the board, thoughtful.

  “Interesting…”

  He slowly set his cup down, laced his fingers together.

  “You see…

  To suffer is to exist.

  But to think… is to begin becoming.”

  He raised his eyes to Kael, his gaze sharper than ever.

  “Cogito, ergo sum.

  I think… therefore I am.

  But without suffering, thought is nothing more than a weightless whisper.

  It is suffering that gives thought its gravity…

  and existence its depth.”

  He calmly moved one final piece.

  Then, in a low voice—almost like a verdict:

  “Checkmate.”

  Silence settled. Dense.

  The game was over.