Framed Every Lifetime

My sudden move terrified my coworkers.

Calder Roane, Calder, let out a strange laugh and spread his hands. "What is this? Some kind of creative annual gala performance?"

He cautiously stepped toward me. "Lyra, even performances need limits. People will think our company has terrible internal relationships."

Countless ways I had died flashed through my mind. I could almost still feel the tearing pain ripping through my body.

I roared without thinking, "Don't come any closer! Take another step, and I'll hurt him!"

As I spoke, my grip tightened. The sharp blade sliced across Elan's neck, drawing blood. He let out a scream of pain, and the entire hall erupted in shocked cries.

Only then did everyone finally realize this was not a joke or a skit. This was a real kidnapping.

In unison, they backed away.

Calder panicked, cold sweat pouring down his face. "Lyra, calm down! Whatever it is, we can talk it out!"

I had talked it out in my first life. I had worn the most advanced fitness watch our company had just released, and showed them my entire movement record.

During the five minutes I spent outside the gala hall, I had done nothing but use the restroom.

Yet somehow, every single person in the company had seen me viciously beating Elan during those same five minutes. No matter how desperately I struggled to explain, it had been useless.

Not far away, Calder stomped his foot anxiously. "Lyra is usually so gentle. This new guy, Elan Crowe, isn't even in her team. They have no grudge, no conflict. Why would she do something like this?"

Exactly.

I almost wanted to scream in agreement.

I barely even knew this new coworker, Elan. At most, we had nodded to each other a few times when we crossed paths in the pantry.

More importantly, he was a man, and I had grown up never even swatting a male mosquito.

There was no work conflict or emotional entanglement. So why was it that in every single life, another version of me appeared out of nowhere, determined to kill him?

There was no reason for it.

None at all.

As that thought surfaced, I looked eagerly at Killian Taylor, the coworker who was dialing 999.

"Did you call the police?" I asked. "Make sure you use the emergency line."

Killian stared at me, completely confused. "Aren't you the kidnapper?"

Once I confirmed the call had gone through, I immediately switched back to a vicious expression.

"Everyone, stay back," I shouted. "Or his life is forfeit. And turn on the main overhead lights!"

Afraid I would hurt Elan, they did exactly as I said. The colorful lights in the hall were shut off, replaced by harsh white illumination.

For the first time, I could clearly see Elan's face. He had a quiet, delicate look, the kind that made him seem very honest.

He shrank in front of me, his whole body stiff as tears pooled in his eyes, and he looked utterly wronged.

I asked him, "Where are you from? Which university did you go to?"

Choking back sobs, he named two unfamiliar places.

That was enough to confirm it. Our lives had never intersected.

The endless weight of repeated cycles crushed down on me, and my sense of injustice was no less than his.

"Then tell me," I asked, "why do you think I kidnapped you?"

He froze, then shook his head slightly. "I don't know."

Exactly.

Neither of us could understand it.

So why did this keep happening, over and over again?

In every rebirth after that, no matter what methods I used to avoid it, I would always appear beside Elan during those bizarre five minutes, and I would always take his life brutally.

Every time, there would be irrefutable evidence proving that I was the one who did it.

The sound of sirens grew louder as they approached.

My gaze hardened. This time, I would uncover the truth.

I would clear both Elan's name and mine, and I would survive.