Copy & Paste Power in Modern World

Adam’s eyes snapped open.

He shot up from the bench and nearly lost his balance. For a second, he could not understand where he was. A park.

He was lying on a park bench.

Adam stood and looked around, breathing hard. Sweat covered his face even though the breeze was cold. He wiped his forehead and took one step away from the bench.

A sharp pain hit his head.

He grabbed his temple as yesterday memory crashed back into him.

The university office. The accusations. Cheating. Leaking exam material. Tampering with records. He had denied everything, but no one had cared. By afternoon, he was expelled.

Then the hostel had thrown him out too.

His key was taken. His bags were shoved into boxes. The warden told him to leave before dark. Students he knew watched him from the corridor like he was filth.

That was why he was here.

Sleeping in a park with nowhere else to go.

And with no one left to call.

"What..." Adam whispered.

Before he could think further, another memory tore through him.

This one was not from yesterday.

It was from fifteen years in the future.

The park vanished.

Adam lay on the floor of his own house, drowning in blood. Cuts covered his chest. Blood spread under his back. Across from him stood John, with two other men at his side.

John was laughing.

Not nervous laughter. Real laughter, loud and carefree, as if he were enjoying himself.

Adam stared at him in disbelief. John? His friend? Why was John here?

"Adam," John said between laughs, "you really made these last fifteen years fun. I have to say it. I’ve never seen anyone like you."

Adam tried to move, but pain pinned him down. His chest felt split open. His body was getting colder.

He had never imagined this. Through everything that had happened in his life, he had still believed John was one of the few people he could trust.

"Why..." he forced out.

John waved a hand. "Don’t do that. I’m not your enemy in the usual sense. I didn’t ruin you out of hatred. I just wanted to see how long you could last before you finally broke."

He crouched beside Adam, smiling.

"Honestly, I respect you. I had to use more than a few skills to push you this far. You kept standing....Salute...."

Adam could only stare.

John leaned in. "You know when I first took an interest in you? Back in college. The moment you started talking to Monica."

Monica.

A chill ran through Adam. So many memories twisted together at once. Strange rumors. Sudden misunderstandings. Doors closing one after another. Everything had started around that time.

"You knew..." Adam coughed. "I never... Monica... you..."

He wanted to say John knew he had never loved Monica. That John and Monica looked better together than he and Monica ever had. But the words would not come.

John laughed again. "You still don’t get it. I don’t have feelings for anyone. People are pieces on a board. Some useful, some worthless. You were one of the best pieces I ever had."

Adam’s hand twitched weakly against the bloody floor.

John tilted his head. "Want a better surprise? Remember how your parents died? Burned alive in the village. Their fields burned with them."

Adam’s eyes widened.

"That was me," John said.

The room spun.

For years, Adam had mourned them and called it fate. Now John stood over him and admitted it like he was discussing the weather.

"W-why?" Adam asked.

John shrugged. "Same reason. I wanted to see if that would break you. I kept waiting. Every time, you somehow kept going. That’s why I respect you."

Fifteen years.

Fifteen years of misery, humiliation, and loss. Fifteen years spent walking through traps he had never seen.

Then John smiled again. "Ah, right. I almost forgot. In a few days, Monica and I are getting married. After that, her wealth will be mine too."

Adam felt his mind go empty.

"I would’ve invited you," John said, "but you won’t be able to make it."

Adam finally understood how rotten his life had been. Every major ruin, every betrayal, every wound, all tied back to the man standing in front of him with a smile on his face.

Darkness crept over him.

John noticed and clicked his tongue. "No, no, Adam. Don’t die yet. Listen a little longer. It’s been years since I showed anyone my real face. You’re part of a very small group now. Don’t die like the others."

Like the others.

Anyone who saw this side of John died.

Adam’s breathing turned shallow. The pain grew dull, then distant.

The last thing he saw was John’s smiling face.

Then everything went black.

Adam staggered in the park and nearly fell to one knee.

The memory was gone, but the feeling remained. His body shook. Sweat ran down his neck. His hands clenched so hard his nails dug into his palms.

That was not a dream.

It was real. The pain in his chest. The blood. John’s voice. His laughter. Monica. His parents. Every word felt carved into him.

He had died.

He had lived fifteen years of hell and died.

And now he was back.

Back to the day he was expelled from college.

Back to the start.

Adam slowly raised his head. Rage twisted across his face.

"John," he said.

The name came out full of hate.

A blue light flashed in front of him.

Adam froze.

A translucent window appeared in the air. Strange lines of text began to form across its surface, dragging his attention away from John and locking his eyes on the glowing screen.