Kaito sat on the edge of the lumpy bed, staring at the warped wooden floorboards beneath his feet. A single droplet of water plunked into the tin bowl he'd set out the previous night—an improvised measure against the leaky roof. In the dim morning light, that drip sounded like a clock ticking down, a grim little reminder that time itself was refusing to move forward for him.
He ran a hand through his messy black hair, trying to soothe the dull ache behind his eyes. Hadn't he died yesterday? That memory still clung to him, as vivid as a fresh bruise: the snap of a giant frog's jaws, the sickening crunch of bones, and a sudden, suffocating darkness. But here he was, very much alive, at the shabby inn where he'd first registered for the frog-hunting quest.
He leaned back and let his gaze wander around the room: cracked plaster walls that bulged in places like a face about to speak, a single sputtering candle on the rickety table, and the unmistakable scent of mildew mingling with last night's stale supper. If this was Cylenne's doing—if this was his supposed "cheat skill"—it was the most unhelpful blessing he could imagine. Being stuck on repeat meant that any pride he earned from the previous day's survival was now moot. Nobody even remembered he'd died in spectacular, humiliating fashion… except him.
He exhaled, long and slow, until his lungs felt empty. A flicker of doubt pricked the back of his mind: maybe this wasn't the goddess's fault. Maybe he was cursed. Maybe all that cheap talk he'd overheard about "temporal anomalies" was real, and he was the sorry fool chosen to slog through them. Either way, the ground felt no more stable beneath his feet than that soggy roof above his head.
Kaito stood and shuffled to the small window, careful not to trip on the uneven floorboards that jutted up like broken teeth. Outside, Axel stirred—merchants set up stalls, eager adventurers rushed off to join the day's hunts. It was all so painfully normal. They didn't know time had reset. They didn't know he was dealing with the memory of being devoured by a giant amphibian.
His stomach clenched. He couldn't shake the suspicion that he was fated to repeat this same sorry story until he found the right path—or until the loop swallowed him whole again. The question taunted him: was there a way to break free, or would he keep waking up to the relentless drip of that leaky roof, forever stuck on the morning of the frog quest?
Either way, he decided, stepping away from the window, the next move was his. The day might be a rerun, but it was up to him to change the ending.
Kaito slipped down the creaking staircase, ignoring the innkeeper's call to grab breakfast before heading out. The memory of that so-called "meal"—a thin, cold soup that tasted like murky dishwater—was still too fresh in his mind. He didn't need a repeat of that horror so early in the day. Besides, there was something else gnawing at him, something bigger than an empty stomach: the thought that every decision he made might alter the loop. Or do nothing at all.
He pushed open the front door and stepped into the crisp morning air. Sunlight fell in milky beams across Axel's humble streets, lighting up cobblestones. The bustle of early risers—blacksmiths clanging out a new batch of blades, merchants carting fresh produce to their stalls—almost made him feel normal. Almost. Beneath that cheerful façade, Kaito remembered the truth: he'd died yesterday, and none of these people had a clue.
Before, he'd gone straight for the frog-hunting quest right after wolfing down a miserable excuse for breakfast. Today, he veered left instead of right, heading toward the Adventurers' Guild with a sense of quiet determination. Every step on the wet cobblestones made a faint squeak beneath his boots. The sound reminded him of the giant frogs' rubbery croaks, and a cold prickle ran up his spine. He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting one of those slimy beasts to come hopping around the corner. Nothing but a stray cat slinking under a wagon.
He exhaled, setting his shoulders. Maybe this little detour wouldn't change a thing. Maybe he'd wind up back in that shabby inn by sundown, missing half a leg—or worse. But if there was even a shred of hope that a minor tweak in his routine might shift the tide, he had to try. The guild's doors stood just ahead, a pair of sturdy oak slabs carved with the silhouettes of swords and mages. Kaito tugged one open, bracing himself for whatever new version of today was waiting on the other side.
Kaito nudged open the heavy doors and stepped inside the Adventurers' Guild, greeted by an immediate swirl of noise and motion. The place was just as chaotic as the first time he'd set foot here: burly warriors bragging about their exploits, mages haggling over rare spell components, and a trio of amateur thieves sulking in a corner booth after getting caught trying to swipe from someone's coin pouch. Despite the clamor, it felt almost too familiar.
His gaze landed on the receptionist—a young woman with tired eyes and the same world-weary expression she'd worn on the day he'd registered. Today, she was tapping her quill against the guild ledger with mechanical disinterest, as if each stroke drained a fraction more of her already-flagging energy. It struck Kaito as tragic, in a small way, that she existed in a world of infinite possibilities yet seemed doomed to boredom.
He paused, letting the swirl of voices and tavern smells wash over him. Would simply not taking the quest keep him from dying again? A quick fix, sure, but the thought left a sour taste in his mouth. Doing nothing might stall his next death, but it wouldn't solve the deeper problem. What if he just looped anyway, condemned to wake up every morning in that leaky inn forever?
No, he needed a better plan. He needed answers—something more substantial than simply running away from the frog quest. He moved closer to the receptionist's desk, weaving through a knot of adventurers who reeked of sweat and cheap ale. In the back of his mind, a small voice suggested that maybe ignoring the quest would end the loop. But the voice of his curiosity was louder: Could the key to breaking the reset be hidden in some other job? Some obscure piece of knowledge lurking in this guild's records?
He drummed his fingertips on the edge of the receptionist's desk. She looked up, eyes half-lidded with apathy, offering only the faintest flicker of acknowledgement.
"Need something?" she asked, her tone as flat as a week-old beer.
Kaito swallowed, glancing at the posters tacked behind her—monster bounties, gathering missions, escort requests. For a moment, he wondered if he could spot a quest that promised real answers, something that might set him free instead of dragging him back into a frog's belly. But fate, he knew, had a twisted sense of humor.
"Actually," he began, voice low, "I'm looking for something different today."
His words hung in the air, lost in the din of rowdy conversations. He had no idea if this new path would help him or simply lead to another loop. Still, he braced himself. Doing nothing was no better than giving up—and he wasn't ready to give up. Not yet.
"Ah." The receptionist tapped a nail on a small plaque labeled Guild Policy, her tone making the words sound like a verdict. "According to our guidelines, you can't officially accept a new quest until you've either completed or formally withdrawn from your current one." Her eyes flicked up, scanning him without much interest. "Not that you've done either."
Kaito's stomach knotted. He tried to school his expression, playing it cool, but inside he was cursing the twisted cosmic joke that had landed him in this loop. "So… I'm stuck with the frogs," he muttered, knowing full well it wasn't a question.
The receptionist shrugged. "Technically, you could bail. Walk away and let someone else handle it. But do that often enough, and you'll have no reputation to speak of. Or the one you do have," she added, with a hint of dryness, "will be the kind you don't want."
He pressed his lips together, torn between indignation and understanding. If he tried running from the quest, word would spread. And even if he didn't care about other adventurers thinking he was a coward—once this cursed loop finally ended, if it ever ended—he'd be left with a smear on his name. Then there was the plain truth that he'd already failed the quest once, though no one else remembered. A bitter realization chilled him: he wasn't just trying to avoid the frogs; he was trying to avoid the humiliating death waiting at the end of that quest.
"So that's it?" he said, leaning forward on the receptionist's desk. "Frogs or nothing?"
She gave a noncommittal shrug. "Them's the breaks, newbie. You either finish what you start, or you don't get to start anything else." Then her gaze drifted back to the ledger as though he'd never been there at all.
Kaito blew out a weary breath. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. He stood amidst the guild's raucous morning hustle, pinned in place by an unwelcome truth: if he wanted any hope of breaking free from this repeating day, he'd have to face the giant frogs again. One more time—and hopefully not just one more death.
Kaito stepped away from the receptionist's desk, letting the bustling chaos of the guild swirl around him. He hated this sense of deja vu, the knowledge that everything and everyone had rewound to a state untouched by yesterday's events—events only he remembered.
His eyes traveled across the room, inevitably landing on a familiar figure near the quest board: the tall, blonde crusader who had once charged into battle alongside him. In his memory, she'd been swallowed by a giant frog—acid-scorched armor and all—but now her plate mail shone as if fresh from the smithy. No dents, no slime-eaten streaks, no sign of that nightmarish encounter. Because for her, it had never happened.
She was scanning the list of posted jobs, posture upright, head tilted in concentration. Kaito felt a stab of surreal nostalgia. He could practically see her from the previous loop, valiantly yelling that she'd save him while halfway down a frog's gullet. The memory made his stomach twist, and yet she looked perfectly calm—almost eager—as she contemplated some new, dangerous quest with that faint thrill lighting her eyes.
For a moment, Kaito wondered if he should approach her, maybe drop a hint that he knew just how reckless she really was beneath that noble exterior. But it was pointless. Darkness wouldn't recall a single detail of their short-lived partnership. She wouldn't remember the frog, or the harrowing rescue attempts, or his own panic. This bright and shiny crusader, unmarked by acid or regret, was a stranger to the horrors he'd already seen her endure.
He exhaled slowly, Another reminder, he thought, that nobody else is stuck in this purgatory. The moment he died, the entire world had reset to this pristine morning, setting everyone back to their default states.
Darkness scanned a bold-faced quest titled "High-Risk Monster Extermination," her expression almost… thrilled. The faint flush on her cheeks spoke volumes. Of course she'd pick the most dangerous quest in the stack. Once again, Kaito felt that odd mix of pity and admiration tighten in his chest.
But he didn't move closer. She didn't know him—well, she did, but not like that—and he'd only look like some random adventurer making small talk. No point reliving old battles that haven't actually happened for her. With a final glance, he turned and slipped deeper into the guild, leaving Darkness to her unscathed armor and her dangerously appealing quest.
He only wished he could wipe his own memories as easily as time had wiped hers.
Kaito dropped onto a rickety wooden bench in the far corner of the guild hall, running a hand over the back of his neck. His nerves felt worn and shaky—he was only minutes away from attempting the frog quest again, praying he wouldn't end up a midday snack in amphibian jaws. Dying once was more than enough. Dying again? He didn't even want to think about it.
He tilted his head back, letting his eyes roam across the crowd. There, near the job board, a pair of adventurers were locked in a heated argument—a girl with bright blue hair flailing her arms in exasperation, and a brown-haired guy rolling his eyes so hard it looked almost painful. At first, their quarrel was just another layer of chaos in a room already overflowing with noise. But something about the way they bickered stood out.
Kaito caught snippets of their spat: "Useless goddess," the guy muttered through gritted teeth, while the girl shot back about "ungrateful shut-in NEET." If he listened close, it sounded like a quarrel over money. She was insisting she deserved more spending cash for "emergency goddess expenses," and he was calling her a freeloader who already drained him dry at every opportunity. Their voices rose, the girl's shrill indignation clashing with the boy's cynical bite.
A flicker of recognition nudged the back of Kaito's mind. He recalled hearing whispers his first day in Axel: a "blue-haired beauty" who was as useless as she was ostentatious, and a "shyster" who somehow managed to get by on a mix of cunning and dumb luck. So these two are the infamous pair.
He watched the argument play out. The brown-haired guy—Kazuma, Kaito thought he heard someone call him—seemed to have a knack for sarcasm so sharp it could cut steel. Meanwhile, the blue-haired girl—Aqua, presumably—puffed up like a wounded peacock whenever he took aim at her pride. Their bickering had a strangely practiced rhythm, like a comedy duo in the middle of a routine neither one was willing to quit.
Kaito exhaled softly, a half-smile tugging at his lips despite his own worries. In a world where death reset time for him alone, seeing two people so vibrantly alive—shouting, gesturing, snapping about the smallest things—brought a bittersweet stab of normalcy. They had no idea how lucky they were to argue over money instead of facing repeated demises.
He leaned back against the guild's worn wall, eyes flicking to the quest board. The frogs waited, jaws wide, in his immediate future. Yet here he was, taking in one last moment of Axel's chaotic, ridiculous everyday life—a life he was desperate to join for real, instead of losing it over and over again.
"Just once," he murmured, the words only for himself, "just once, let me make it through the day without another reset."
Then he stood, brushing off his gear and readying himself for another round of comedic, potentially fatal combat. His gaze lingered on the arguing pair for a moment longer. So that's the so-called useless goddess and the scheming adventurer, he thought, a faint smirk crossing his face. I wonder if they've got any tips on survival.
But that was a question for another day—or another loop—if he lived long enough to ask.
Kaito pushed open the creaking town gates and stepped onto the worn dirt road leading to the frog pond. A chill breeze ruffled his unkempt hair, he wrapped his arms around himself as if that could protect him from the slimy jaws waiting ahead. He ran a quick mental tally of his gear: a flimsy dagger that might as well be a butter knife, a single potion whose healing properties were questionable at best (the label had mostly peeled off), and a ragged map that resembled a preschooler's scribble art. Not exactly a confidence-inspiring arsenal.
But this time, he had something more valuable: knowledge. I know how they move now, he reminded himself, feeling a cautious surge of hope blossom in his chest. Last loop, he'd stumbled right into the frogs' feeding frenzy—thinking he could sneak up on them. Big mistake. He still couldn't shake the memory of that gaping maw, nor the horrifying gulp that had ended him in one snap.
Kaito halted at the edge of the same little grove of trees, heart pounding. The sunlight filtered through the leaves in soft patches, illuminating the frog pond down below like a scene torn from a fairy tale. If he didn't know better, he'd call it picturesque—tranquil even. But he did know better. He remembered in painful detail how those frogs had devoured him last time, slime and jaws and a sickening gulp that turned his stomach inside out.
He crouched low behind a gnarled trunk, scanning the waters. Sure enough, the frogs were out there, half-submerged in mucky shallows. Their bulbous eyes glistened with an all-too-familiar appetite. Then his gaze caught on something else—a small shape rolling away from the pond. For a moment, he thought it was a stray rock. Then it moved like it had a mind of its own. A cabbage bandit, he realized with a jolt, the same kind of bizarre creature he'd heard about before. Only in this world could vegetables achieve sentience and lead a life of petty larceny.
A memory flashed: in the previous loop, he'd witnessed a frog devouring one of these cabbages. Now Kaito's breath quickened. A plan flickered to life—maybe he didn't have to rush headlong at the frogs with only his sad excuse for a dagger. If he could bait them with the cabbages, lead them somewhere he had the advantage, he might stand a chance of picking them off one by one. Or at the very least, avoid getting eaten himself.
He rose from his hiding spot, carefully skirting the tree line to get closer to the unsuspecting cabbage bandit. The little green sphere bounced awkwardly across the grass, probably pilfering seeds or scraps. Kaito swallowed hard, gripping his dagger with clammy fingers. "All right," he muttered under his breath, "here goes nothing." If the frogs wanted an easy meal, he'd give it to them—so long as he got to keep his limbs attached by the end of the day.
Kaito exhaled, glancing down at the wiggling vegetable in his grasp. Sorry, buddy. With one swift jab of his flimsy dagger, the cabbage bandit went limp in his hands, its leaves wilting like a balloon deflating. A pang of guilt prickled in his chest—it was a peculiar form of life, after all—but survival trumped sympathy today.
"Better you than me," he muttered, ignoring the greenish stain that now smeared across the blade. Carefully, he hefted the limp cabbage, steeling himself for the next step of his plan.
A nearby frog bobbed at the water's edge, croaking softly as it scanned for its next meal. Kaito crept closer, scanning the muddy shoreline until he spotted a slim branch. He grabbed it and, with a sharp flick of his wrist, hurled it across the frog's line of sight.
The branch clattered against a rock, drawing the creature's bulbous gaze. Its throat bulged once—then it spotted Kaito holding the now-deceased cabbage. The frog's slick, amphibian eyes flared with a single-minded hunger.
Slowly, it began to hop forward, mud squelching around its massive legs. Kaito's heart thudded in his chest, but he kept his grip on the cabbage bandit steady. Come on… just a little closer. If he timed it right, he could lure the frog out of the water's safety and get a clean stab at its vulnerable side.
As the frog closed the distance, Kaito breathed through the nervous rattling in his lungs. This was it—his chance to turn the tables. He adjusted his stance, dagger at the ready, praying this moment wouldn't end the same way it had in the last loop: swallowed whole and lost to darkness.
Kaito lunged forward the moment the frog waddled within striking distance, adrenaline pounding in his ears. He plunged his flimsy dagger into the creature's side—exactly where he'd imagined the vital spot to be—but the blade met dense, rubbery flesh. Instead of slicing deep, it skittered off the frog's hide as though he'd just poked a soggy tree trunk.
For a stunned second, Kaito froze, staring at his dagger wedged uselessly in a thick roll of amphibian blubber. The frog blinked once, unimpressed. Then, before he could wrench the blade free, its wide mouth yawned open. A split second later, Kaito felt slick, gummy jaws snap shut around him with terrifying force. He flailed, sputtering a choked cry of protest that turned into a gurgling echo inside the frog's stomach. And just like that—chomp—he was gone, devoured again, leaving nothing but ripples in the pond and a faint splash of murky water where he'd stood.
Kaito jolted upright, cold sweat on his brow, heart hammering a furious rhythm against his ribcage. For a disorienting instant, he couldn't tell if he was alive or still inside that frog's stomach. Then the sight of the peeling walls and sagging bed told him exactly where he was.
"Not again," he groaned, pressing his palms against his eyes as if he could blot out this déjà vu nightmare. He stumbled to the window, each footstep punctuated by the inn's tired floorboards creaking under his weight. Outside, the same vendors hawked their wares—sacks of flour, cheap trinkets, and questionable potions. The same band of travelers stood nearby, talking in hushed tones about adventurers who'd met their ends in a frog's maw. Every detail was identical.
He gripped the windowsill, staring down at the damp cobblestones below. It really is the same day. Again. A dry laugh rattled from his chest, equal parts frustration and disbelief. After all that planning, after thinking he'd finally gained an edge, here he was—right back where he started.
"Am I cursed? Did I offend some cosmic deity?" he muttered to the empty room. The stale air offered no answer.
Shaking off the mental fog, he forced himself to move. No time to wallow. If he wanted to break this cycle, he'd have to learn something from these deaths—no matter how humiliating or horrible. Still, a nagging doubt tugged at the back of his mind: What if this is my life now? Over and over, frogs and failures, like some dark, twisted fairy tale on repeat.
His hands clenched into fists. Screw that. As long as he still had a pulse (however temporarily), he had to keep trying. Clinging to that one fragile spark of determination, Kaito marched out of the room, already bracing himself for another ride on this eternal merry-go-round.
Kaito paused at the threshold, hand lingering on the worn wooden door before stepping out into the early morning light. He couldn't shake the feeling that every detail—the washed-out colors of the sky, the slight chill in the breeze, even the way the cobblestones gleamed under a fresh dew—was mocking him. He rubbed at his bleary eyes, muttering under his breath, I signed up for an isekai adventure, not a time-loop curse.
He sucked in a breath of crisp air, half-expecting it to taste of sulfur. What if this is actual hell? A nightmare realm disguised as a cheerful, half-baked fantasy world. Any moment now, he might spot little red imps with pitchforks dancing in the shadows. But no—just the usual townsfolk and stalls, stuck in the same script of morning bustle they'd been following for loops now.
He squared his shoulders, forcing a flicker of resolve. No, he thought, I'm not rotting in some demonic prison. I'm just… stuck. Stuck with frogs. A never-ending massacre of amphibians and half-baked schemes. The thought alone made his stomach tighten. He remembered the slick, suffocating dark, the final gulp as the frog devoured him. It'll happen again, whispered a persistent voice in his mind.
Kaito pushed that voice aside, stepping onto the cobblestones with renewed bitterness. Blessings are supposed to make life easier, he thought, not turn every day into a guaranteed panic attack. If this was truly his fate—an eternal merry-go-round of slime and jaws—then so be it. But he refused to believe that was all there was. Some shred of hope, or maybe just stubbornness, urged him forward.
He tugged his tunic up, bracing himself for yet another loop. One more chance to get it right—or fail spectacularly. The very notion that he might wake up here again tomorrow made his chest tighten like a vise. If this is hell, at least I'll face it on my own terms.
Kaito's footsteps fell with new determination on the damp cobblestones, though frustration still gnawed at his mind. If hacking and slashing at frogs doesn't work and it most likely won't with my pitiful equipment, maybe there's another way. He replayed the rumors he'd overheard about that blue-haired girl—a so-called "goddess," albeit a useless one, by all accounts. But a goddess is still a goddess, he reasoned, turning onto the main street toward the guild. Even if half of Axel thinks she's a joke, maybe she can break a curse.
The idea gave him something else to focus on besides the memory of a frog's jaws clamping shut around him. As he strode through the early bustle, vendors sang out the same tired sales pitches from previous loops, and passersby gossiped about monster sightings. It was all painfully familiar, but for once, that twinge of déjà vu felt like a nudge forward instead of a dead weight.
He glanced at the inn's warped doors behind him one last time, as though expecting to see himself stepping out again—a ghost of a future loop. Then he forced his eyes back to the road. If this goddess really had the power to fix his situation, or at least explain it, he had to find her. Otherwise, tomorrow would just be another replay of the day he couldn't outrun.
A quiver of hope threaded through his frustration as the silhouette of the Adventurers' Guild came into view—loud, rowdy, and full of chaotic promise. Maybe she can exorcise a time loop, he thought, or whatever it is a goddess does. He didn't care if she was rumored to be a freeloading drunk. If anyone stood a chance of helping him, it was someone with real divine magic.
He pushed open the guild's hefty doors and stepped inside, heart thumping with that thin, desperate sort of optimism that comes after too many failures. One more shot, he told himself. Just one more shot. And for the first time since the loop began, he felt a flicker of genuine possibility. Even if it was the longest long shot he'd ever taken, at least it wasn't another trip into a frog's mouth.
To be continued…