All Chapters of Rewinding My Reaper Boyfriend: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

The studio was quiet, save for the rhythmic rasp of Elion turning pages.He sat on the floor, surrounded by stacks of black sketchbooks he had pulled from Alex’s old trunk. The air was thick with dust and the smell of turpentine, but Elion didn't notice. He was too busy staring at a drawing of his own death."It's the taxi," Elion whispered.He held up the sketchbook.On the page, rendered in frantic charcoal strokes, was a street corner. 57th and 8th. A yellow taxi was jumping the curb. A figure in a grey cardigan—Elion—was frozen in the headlights.And behind him, a shadow in a black coat was reaching out.Cale sat on the red satin couch, his broken leg propped up on a crate. He looked at the drawing. He winced, not from the memory, but from the movement of his own eyes."Timeline 1," Cale rasped. "The origin.""He drew it," Elion said, flipping the page. "He drew it three years ago. Look at the date."October 14, 2021."That was two weeks before he died," Elion said. "He was seeing

The freight elevator clanged its arrival like a prison bell.It was noon. Exactly twenty-four hours since Lysander’s ultimatum.Elion stood in the center of the studio. He had swept the floor. He had arranged the paintings to look like a gallery, not a bunker. He had even tried to clean the soot off his face, though his hands were still stained with the dust of the attic and the bank vault.Cale sat on the red satin couch. He was wearing the black suit jacket Elion had retrieved from the bag—wrinkled, but formal. His broken leg was hidden under the satin drape. His hands were folded in his lap, perfectly still."He is here," Cale said. His voice was low, controlled."I know," Elion said. "Are you ready?""I am static," Cale said. "I am a wall.""You're in pain.""Pain is internal. The wall is external.""Just... don't move," Elion whispered. "If you move, the fabric rubs. If it rubs, you flinch. If you flinch, he wins.""I will not flinch."The heavy steel door swung open.Lysander st

The freight elevator door groaned open, revealing the dim, dusty hallway of the ground floor.Elion stepped out. He was wearing his black hoodie, the hood pulled low, and sunglasses he had found in Alex’s desk drawer. He looked like a celebrity trying to avoid paparazzi, or a criminal trying to avoid the police.In his case, he was both.He checked his pockets. Cash. Phone (turned off to avoid tracking). Keys."Okay," Elion whispered to himself. "In and out. Heater. Food. Sweater. Don't get caught."He pushed open the street door.The Brooklyn sunlight hit him hard. It was a bright, crisp afternoon, the kind of day that made you forget you were a fugitive living in a warehouse with a supernatural entity who was slowly erasing himself from existence.Elion walked fast. He kept his head down.He passed a newsstand. The headline stared up at him from the Daily News.LOVE CHASE OR MANHUNT? PRODUCER MIRA KOVARI PROMISES "SHOCKING FINALE."Elion grimaced. Mira was spinning the narrative. She

The digital clock on the nightstand flickered. 11:00 PM.The Garden Room was silent, sealed behind the steel shutters and the heavy oak door. It felt less like a bridal suite and more like a compression chamber, pressurized and waiting for release.Elion sat on the edge of the bed, holding a bottle of lotion."Take it off, Cale," Elion said softly.Cale was sitting in the armchair, his broken leg propped up on the ottoman. He was still wearing the grey cable-knit sweater. His face was pale, shiny with a sheen of cold sweat, and his jaw was set so hard Elion could see the muscle jumping."No," Cale said."It's wool," Elion argued, uncapping the lotion. "Cheap, thrift-store wool. And you have hyperalgesia. It must feel like wearing a shirt made of needles.""It feels like fire ants," Cale admitted through his teeth."Then take it off! We're sleeping. You don't need to wear the prophecy to bed.""If I take it off... the image breaks."Cale gripped the armrests. His knuckles were white."

The hallway leading to the Bridal Suite was lined with rose petals.It was a romantic gesture from the production team, but to Elion, they looked like drops of blood on the carpet. He walked fast, his hand gripping Cale’s elbow, guiding him not just forward, but upright.Cale was moving with a strange, floating gait. Without the feedback of his feet hitting the floor, he had to watch his steps intently to keep his balance."Left foot," Elion murmured. "Lift. Step.""I am calibrated," Cale said, though he stumbled slightly on a petal. "Visual confirmation of floor is... adequate.""You're doing great. We're almost there."They reached the double doors of the suite. A red ribbon was tied across the handles."Cut the ribbon!" a cameraman shouted from behind them. "Symbolic entry!"Elion ripped the ribbon off with his bare hands. He threw it on the floor."Symbolism complete," Elion snapped.He unlocked the door. He shoved it open. He pulled Cale inside and slammed the door in the face of