The image froze on Elian's tablet.
A child's face, blurred by motion but unmistakable.
Dark hair. Uneven bangs. A scab above the eyebrow. Half-shadowed.
And behind the eyes — something achingly familiar.
Not just to Elian… but to the man he was before.
Karan, the boy who once starred in a forgotten student short film Elian had directed back in his old world — a film that never got past his film school's internal archive. There were no online uploads, no leaks, no publicity. Only he should remember it.
So why was this child now showing up in this world, in a scene he hadn't even scripted?
[ Isolated Facial Match Confirmed. Cross-referencing previous life visual archive.
Subject: "Karan Malik, Age 9"
Source: Final frame of "Blue Umbrella: A Short Film" – Archived (Old World)
Potential System Interference Detected. Investigate Origin. ]
Elian tapped the prompt to expand.
Nothing came up.
Just a flickering system icon and a quiet message:
[ "Some stories want to be retold." ]
---
"Is that… one of our extras?" Miraal asked, leaning in again.
Elian closed the window.
"Doesn't matter."
But it did.
It mattered more than she could know.
He handed the tablet to Shaan and asked for the footage to be catalogued with the rest. "Mark the puppet scene under restructured highlight sequences, tag it for teaser consideration."
Miraal frowned. "What happened just now?"
Elian gave her the same mask he'd learned to wear across two lives.
"Nothing important."
---
They moved locations mid-afternoon, back to an indoor corridor for a hospital flashback. Elian worked through it mechanically — camera angles, lighting corrections, coaching Arya on her breathing between lines. His focus never slipped.
But inside, his mind spun.
If the system had pulled footage from his old life, that was one thing. But if it had somehow pulled people, or faces… what did that mean?
Was this world borrowing more than just his talent?
Was someone — or something — rewriting more than scripts?
---
[POV: Miraal]
Miraal knew something was wrong.
Elian hadn't made a single spontaneous edit during the afternoon shoot.
Normally, even on a tight schedule, he'd find something — a word to tweak, a better framing choice, a silence to stretch. But today, he was mechanical.
Efficient. Distant.
When she offered him notes on the third take, he nodded without truly responding. When Rafiq made a joke between shots, Elian didn't even glance up.
But what really clinched it for Miraal?
He let a bad take through.
Just once. A stilted line read from the child actor. Not egregious, but not Elian's standard.
And he marked it as "usable."
Something was definitely off.
---
By evening, the crew wrapped with one day ahead of schedule, but no one felt celebratory. The energy had shifted. Quiet, tight, contained.
Miraal found Elian seated on a stack of camera crates, reviewing a new draft.
"You gonna tell me what's bothering you, or am I supposed to start guessing?"
He didn't look up. "It's nothing."
"Don't lie to someone who's seen you direct sleepless."
Elian said nothing. Just stared at the text on his tablet.
A new prompt flickered again in the system overlay:
[ Optional Side Quest Unlocked: Trace the Echo
You've glimpsed the past bleeding into your script. Now find the connection.
Reward: Permanent Story Resonance Boost — Realism Layer +1
Time-Sensitive: Complete in 48 in-world hours. ]
He dismissed it. Not yet.
Not in front of Miraal.
---
Later that night, in his rented apartment, Elian replayed the footage again.
This time, he paused on the moment the boy looked directly at the camera.
His eyes didn't just look into the lens.
They looked through it.
Elian frowned.
And then, for the first time since he'd transmigrated, he spoke aloud to the system.
"Was that… real?"
No response.
The system remained silent.
Until, after a few seconds, the screen dimmed and a new image appeared.
A newspaper clipping.
Old, yellowed.
[ CHILD ACTOR FOUND DEAD AFTER MYSTERIOUS STUDIO FIRE – 2016 ]
Elian's pulse slowed.
The photo was unmistakable.
Karan Malik.
His child actor.
From his old world.
From a film no one was supposed to remember.