The Sorcerer Killer's Third Chance (JJK x Re:ZERO)

Laughter and Chains

I... died...

A bead of sweat trailed down Toji's forehead as the realization struck him. Despite his face remaining stoic, the revelation clawed at the edges of his sanity. He stared at his surroundings—the ornate room, the heavy drapes, and the absurdly extravagant furnishings he had already grown used to mocking. Yet, here they were again, as if mocking him.

There was no rational explanation. No cursed energy, no malice he could sense—just the undeniable truth that he was back where he started. Four days' worth of effort, wiped clean. All of it, gone.

His mind raced, the calm mask on his face betraying none of the storm inside. Questions bombarded him one after another. Why? What could possibly cause this? He'd faced death before, stared it down more times than he could count, but this?

His thoughts halted as a voice interrupted him.

"Sir, sir, you don't seem very well. Are you all right?"

Toji looked up, his gaze falling on the twins. They stood there, identical and polite as ever, but something was... wrong.

"Sir, sir," Ram added, her tone faintly condescending. "You seem to have a stomachache. You didn't soil yourself, did you?"

The biting remark barely registered. Toji's lips parted, his voice quieter than usual but tinged with something uncharacteristic—a flicker of concern.

"You... don't remember me?"

The twins exchanged a glance, confusion creeping into their otherwise neutral expressions. "Sir?" they replied in unison, their voices tinged with unease.

That single moment hit harder than any blow. They didn't know him. The cautious moments spent earning their begrudging respect, the banter, the subtle shifts in their demeanor over those four days—it was all gone. Like dust swept from a table, leaving only an empty surface behind.

Toji's throat tightened ever so slightly, though he swallowed the sensation. Damn it. It shouldn't bother him. Not them, not this place. But... it did. Just a little. Enough for that faint pang in his chest to linger.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cool floor beneath his bare feet grounding him as he stood.

"Sir, you shouldn't try to move so suddenly," Ram cautioned, her voice sharper this time.

Toji ignored her entirely, his movements deliberate but calm as he stepped past them. He didn't need their permission.

As he walked into the hallway, the faint scent of polished wood and lavender struck him—a detail he hadn't noticed the first time. Or was it simply that this wasn't the first time anymore?

His steps were steady, his face unreadable, but his thoughts churned like a storm. How? The question echoed endlessly in his mind, but no answer came. Why me? Why here? Why now? What kind of sick game is this?

He kept walking, not paying attention to where he was going, only knowing that he couldn't stop. That he couldn't afford to.

Because the truth was undeniable now.

Toji had died.

His steps quickened, leaving Rem and Ram behind as they called after him. Their voices faded into the background, and he paid them no mind. His thoughts swirled with questions, frustration mounting at the absurdity of his situation. Turning a corner sharply, his eyes caught sight of a door on the right. Something deep inside him—instinct, perhaps—urged him to stop and open it.

Without hesitation, he swung the door open.

The room before him was vast and quiet, lined with towering shelves crammed with books of every size and color. The library's faint, musty scent filled his nostrils. Sitting at the center, surrounded by an air of calm detachment, was Beatrice.