Entry 20, July 4, 0830H

Well… I'm not sure if I had much sleep. But I am once again out in the morning. This time, to catch a race.

As stated in the title, it's a race that bans all forms of footwork. A bike must be hand-cranked, for example. Or the participant had to depend on alternative locomotion such as slithering, crawling, and hand-standing. Hand… running… maybe. Whatever it was, no legs allowed.

That… that certainly didn't exist in Ebott Town. Goodness, these people.

I don't think I have ever spectated a race on my own before. It's always been on a friend's invite, only to turn into a mission site. My idea of a leisure time was anywhere but on a track.

Hunting, for example, always makes for a great day. There's no better prize than a good hunk of cooked meat. Lucidia and Gaelic would agree.

We arrived early to watch the setup of the track. Certain contestants had submitted 'creative' solutions to their problems, which required some test runs in the name of safety. Can't have weird inventions exploding in the face of other contestants after all. Figuratively or otherwise.

One of the most bizarre contraptions involved a platform in the shape of a fish, powered by a hand pump system. With each pump, that facsimile of a piscine makes a flop.

That's right. The owner intends to win the race by exploiting bounce physics. The idea was so ridiculous that I had to check if I'm not in some ultra-realistic VR game.

Alas, my professional analysis dictates that I was not in some elaborate digital prank.

This was real…

Entry 21, July 4, 1400H

The best and worst outcome of interdimensional time travel had happened.

I - Mezil Thyme - met the younger versions of my own parents.

It happened in the No-Legged race. A familiar man rode the track with a hand-crank bicycle. At that moment, it was not enough to make the connection. It's rare for children to recognize their parents in their prime. By the time they were old enough to remember, much would have changed.

Then, I heard the announcer say his name: Connor Winston.

I brushed it off as a coincidence at first. Knowing the quirks of alternate dimensions, it could just be someone with a similar face and name. It's no guarantee that he led the same life.

I had thought so until the race was all done and over with. His heavily pregnant wife and his toddler daughter greeted Connor Winston.

If they kept the same names, those two would be my mother Magdalene and my sister Emelline. That baby in the belly would be… me.

I slipped away while they were distracted. Later, I asked Papyrus if that family had noticed my presence. He said they only saw my back, yet it was enough to catch some interest.

After lunch, I excused myself for the rest of the afternoon. I didn't explain the truth to Frisk and Papyrus.

If many factors matched my past, that family is heading towards a dark, ruinous future. Should I let nature take its course, or should I intervene to change their fate? A saving action may not always go in ways intended. As Living Victory, I know this first hand.

I need time to think. Mull. Ponder.

P.S. That damn fish won the race… Never underestimate a cunning exploitation of bounce mechanics.

Entry 22, July 4, 1700H

My odd behaviour did not go unnoticed. However, it was for all the wrong reasons. Papyrus believed that I was unhappy with the No-Legged Race. Perhaps, he thought, he had chosen an improper event for his guest. Much fretting involved.

Misunderstood guilt is the worst. Before the situation spiralled out of control, I explained my predicament to the skeleton brothers. This Sans seems a little bit more trustworthy, to say the least.

Papyrus then offered to take me to the Dreemurr's home. That family had gone beyond the impossible, he explained. Prince Asriel regained his body, while Chara's ghost had converted into a member of monsterkind.

They succeeded without cosmic or political consequences? No accidental eldritch abomination? I was skeptical on that front. But, before anything else could happen… Sans cracked a terrible pun.

'Hey bro, you're the perfect skeleton key to solve every puzzle'.

Thanks for complicating matters, Sans. You have broken your brother (temporarily). How is he going to be a guide if he can't even move?

To salvage his poor decision to pun, Sans offered himself to be my personal guide for the next few hours: to get a 'fresh perspective' and some history lessons about Ebott's Wake. It includes a trip to 'Dank Memehaus'.

I'm not sure why he wants to take me there in particular, but we'll see.

Entry 23, July 4, 2200H

Roughly a hundred and fifty years ago, Ebott's Wake served as the crossroads of America.
A few years ago, it was the sociopolitical crossroads of man and monster.
And today, it's the crossroads of whole realms and worlds.

Sans took me to Dank Memehaus: a hybrid of a cybercafe and a bar. Eli is the owner of the establishment. And, to my surprise, Grillby is one of the workers. I expected him to have his own establishment. But, I am no stranger to the nightmare of bureaucratic red tapes. What a shame.

My response had garnered some interest. I explained to them that the Grillby from my home was a former Captain of the Royal Guard. He helped when we needed him the most, and thus commanded my highest respect.

Unfortunately, the Sans of my world had crossed him. Therefore, the skeleton was banned from Grillby's establishment.

I sensed a great disturbance from this Sans. The thought of being barred from Grillby's fare must be an unthinkable misfortune for his kind.

Sans later introduced me to a group of humanoids (for lacking a better term) hanging out at a table. He's a well-known face in town. Not surprising.

One of them was apparently a former deity. His planet blew up, and thus he lost his divine status. He now lives in Ebott's Wake as an ordinary mortal. At least his aeons of management skills did not go to waste.

Then there was a former knight who now makes a living as an instructor. Luckily swordfighting is a valid sport of its own, so he had no problems adapting to the 21st century.

He told me the story of how he came to live here. One day he was caught in an ambush. Fell into a hidden portal by sheer accident. The knight tried to go back, but he discovered that a few hundred years had passed since his apparent death. He wisely chose to stay in the better age.

The third person was an orc. Green skin and all. You'd think that she came from ye olde days, but no: she came from a planet-colonizing space tech era. Her realm still exists, but she was a poor friendless vagrant without any opportunities. Here, she's training to be a seamstress. Kind of the last thing you'd expect from an orc.

Sans pointed out that the majority of the café users nowadays were travellers of the otherworldly sort. They rent the internet for knowledge's sake, studying the science and history of this realm as inspiration for their quests.

Without doubt, there will be customers who pay for entertainment. But those who're here for a mission will not waste a precious second. I was reminded of the engineer who passionately tried to draft a workable washing machine for his home's tech level.

Later, the skeleton took me to a few other spots. I didn't think they were important enough to write down. Videos and photographs do a much better job when it comes to the scenic side.

Hmph. Some things don't change between the Sanses. This tour was just a not-so-subtle nudge to the call for intervention. If others are starting their own tornadoes of Butterfly Effects, why should I be so coy? That's how I understood.

I'm at Ebott's Wake, the crossroads of second chances… Perhaps my family's presence was not a mere coincidence.

Entry 24, July 5, 0000H

I've made up my mind. Let the butterfly flap the winds of change. I'm doing this for my other self's sake. I wouldn't want him to go through my bull of a childhood.

However, I can't just walk in and proclaim the fact that I am their son from the future. It may be too much of a shock. Perhaps it's best that I let their presumptions run their course.

It's only two days before my birthday. The portal back home should be ready on the 8th. There's not much time left. Hopefully, this brief encounter will be enough to alter their fate.