"So," Prim asked lazily, twirling the pendant around his finger as rainwater dripped steadily from the bridge above them, "what are we going to do about this thing?"
Ava didn't answer.
She snatched the pendant from his hand and slammed it onto the concrete.
Then she stepped on it.
Again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
The sharp scraping sound echoed beneath the bridge, mingling with the roar of the swollen river below. Without hesitation, Ava kicked it toward the railing, bent down, picked it up, and flung it straight into the storming water.
The pendant disappeared instantly, swallowed by the current.
Prim leaned over the railing, peering down at the dark river twisting violently beneath them. "Wow," he said flatly. "That was stupid."
"We'll just go through life," Ava replied calmly, dusting off her hands. "Don't you want to have validation? This is it. I still have my pink diamond pendant and my stud earrings. You've got your own stud earrings, diamond watch, and bracelets. If we sell all of them, that money will last us for a lifetime."
Prim nodded slowly, eyes still on the water. "So we wait."
"Yes. We wait until our parents meet, marry, and give birth to us. Timeline stays intact." Ava paused, then added casually, "If anything goes wrong, it doesn't matter. Past us exists. Future us will still be alive."
Prim rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I always wondered how I'd end up dying. Now I've got a lot of time to think about it."
"What about hanging?" Ava offered casually.
"No," Prim shook his head. "Won't look good."
"Jumping off the bridge? Or a building?"
"Still ugly. I'd swell up, and if it's a building, I'd look like minced meat. Accidents and fire aren't good either. Strangulation? Puff up eyes. Hard pass." He sighed deeply. "You worry too little."
Ava rolled her eyes. "You worry too much. Come on. Let's go sell something and live a lavish life."
They left the bridge, climbing the damp concrete steps back to the main road. The city greeted them with noise—cars honking, engines roaring, vendors shouting, neon signs buzzing overhead. Pedestrians flowed around them: couples arguing quietly, office workers rushing past, street vendors packing up their carts. No one spared them a second glance.
After walking several blocks, they found a pawn shop squeezed between a closed tailor's store and a flickering electronics repair shop. Inside, the air smelled of dust, metal, and old paper. Glass cases lined the walls, displaying watches, rings, and necklaces under harsh white lights.
The shop owner examined Ava's crystal hairpin carefully, turning it under a lamp.
"Twelve million," he said.
"We want cash," Ava replied.
The man frowned slightly. "Five million in cash. The rest would need a transfer."
"That's fine."
Money exchanged hands. The owner even helped pack it neatly into a black bag, eyeing them with curiosity but asking no questions.
Outside, Prim whistled. "Didn't you buy that hairpin for twenty million?"
"The designer hadn't finished it yet," Ava said. "It was pure crystal only. That's why it was cheaper."
Night had fully fallen by the time they booked a hotel. It wasn't luxurious, but it was clean and discreet. The lobby smelled faintly of detergent and artificial flowers. A bored receptionist handed them a key card without asking unnecessary questions.
One room. Two beds.
The room itself was plain—beige walls, thin curtains, a small desk by the window, and city lights blinking endlessly outside. The distant sound of traffic hummed through the glass.
"First thing," Ava said, tossing her bag aside, "we make identities. Then bank accounts."
Prim flopped onto one of the beds. "You're lucky I'm good at hacking."
"We also need money," Ava continued. "It doesn't count as stealing if we take it from people who already stole it—corrupt businessmen, illegal companies."
Prim chuckled. "You don't mind affecting the future?"
Ava shrugged. "Do you want to live like a beggar? If it helps, imagine we're those main characters who enter the past, steal other people's ideas, profit off them, and act confused when the original owners fail."
Prim nodded seriously. "That's literally my specialty."
Ava suddenly narrowed her eyes. "Don't freak out… but why is the pendant in your pocket?"
Prim looked down.
Half of it was sticking out of his trousers.
They stared at it.
Then at each other.
Without saying a word, Prim walked to the window, opened it, and threw the pendant out into the night.
It vanished.
They stood there in silence.
"I'll order food," Ava said finally.
"I'll go buy us some devices," Prim replied, grabbing his jacket before leaving.
The next day, Prim had already finished everything—fake identity papers, clean records, and bank accounts set up perfectly. Ava watched him with mild admiration.
"Tsk," she said. "You're really good at this."
"Obviously."
"Let's go shopping," Prim said, standing up. "I feel like dying wearing the same outfit over and over again."
They turned toward the door—
Tap. Tap.
A knock came from the window.
They froze.
Another knock.
They ignored it.
The window slid open on its own.
A cat jumped inside.
It landed gracefully on the floor, tail flicking.
"Damn you two kids," the cat said.
"Ava," Prim said slowly, staring at the creature on the floor, "I think we are seriously on drugs."
Ava stared at the cat for a long second. Then she chuckled.
"So the pendant is actually… a cat," she said thoughtfully.
"I thought it would be a human," Prim added. "Or some genie-type thing."
"Na," Ava nodded seriously. "I was thinking something alien. Like those beings whose mission is to save the world from the future."
"Save the world?" Prim scoffed. "The first thing it does is send us to the past, give vague instructions, and offer zero follow-up. If this thing really came from the future, then the future must be full of rude people. And why is the task about fixing our parents' marriage? What is this, family therapy?"
He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. "I always dreamed of being a salted fish—a fifth-generation heir who spends his life like a prodigy. Not getting dragged into some supernatural nonsense."
"Enough, you goddamn children!" the cat suddenly snapped. "How can you ignore me like that?!"
Prim looked down at it calmly. "You're seriously nothing special."
"And you should be happy we're in a good mood," Ava added, folding her arms. "Otherwise we would've thrown you out the window again for dragging us into last year's mess."
The cat twitched. "So you knew what I was… then why throw me off the bridge? And the window? How did you know?"
Ava blinked. "Is that supposed to be hard?"
"It wasn't hard at all," Prim continued casually. "First, your letter. That whole 'I am the past, the present, and the future' nonsense? That wasn't written by a maid. The handwriting was different. Either possession or something pretending to be mysterious."
"And second," Ava added, "anyone who's read a novel knows there's always a system or something higher involved. Since you didn't want to come out, we forced you out."
"That's why we threw you," Prim said, nodding. "See? It worked."
The cat stared at them in silence for a long moment. Then it took a deep breath.
"…Fine. Ask."
"Yes," Ava said immediately. "First, why the hell did you use letters? That's stupid. Second, why did you bring us here and then send us back?"
"If it were done properly," the cat muttered, "twenty-eight episodes of film would've been saved."
Prim pointed. "See? I told you."
"I have low energy," the cat continued irritably. "You summoned me very rudely. That Elena girl who broke the pendant—she wasted most of my power. To recharge, you must fix the problem."
"And that problem is?" Ava asked flatly.
"Your parents," the cat said. "Bring them together. Make them fall in love. Fix the crack. Do that, and you can return. Fail, and you'll be trapped here forever."
"And you didn't explain earlier because…?" Prim raised a brow.
"If I spoke in riddles, you'd do the opposite anyway."
The cat vanished in a flash of light, shrinking until it became a watch that dropped onto the bed.
There was silence.
"…So," Prim said slowly, "why don't we do the opposite of what it told us? Pretend this is just a vacation."
"Nope," Ava replied instantly. "Come on. Don't you want Mom and Dad together? You want a stepmom? Or a stepdad? Endless drama?"
"Then you do it yourself," Prim said, rolling his eyes.
"Nope. Twins for life," Ava said cheerfully.
Prim gagged.
"We have a lot to do," Ava continued, already pacing. "Register for their school. Rent a house. So much work. And honestly? I really want to see who's smarter—me or our younger parents."
She grabbed Prim by the arm and dragged him out of the room.
With the money Prim had borrowed now safely in their accounts, they went shopping.
They moved through entire streets filled with clothing stores—luxury boutiques, streetwear shops, quiet tailor studios. Salespeople smiled too brightly, complimenting Ava's taste and Prim's build. Bags piled up quickly: uniforms, casual wear, formal clothes, shoes, accessories.
By evening, they rented a fully furnished house—not too flashy, but comfortable and discreet. Everything was already there: sofas, beds, curtains, even kitchenware. They moved in the same night.
Standing in the living room, Ava stretched lazily.
"So," she said, satisfied, "we've sold our valuables for hundreds of millions. Enough to donate buildings, sponsor projects, and buy our way into school if needed."
Prim glanced around the house, expression unreadable.
"…This is going to be troublesome."
Ava smiled.
"And fun."