A female swordsman once said to me that life’s cruelest trick isn’t the repetition of our failures but the fleeting hope that this time we’ll finally succeed.

Just like yesterday, I made my way to the alley where the Chosen One bar was. I knew the drinking parlor had magically disappeared. But in this strange, replaying life, I was confident I would find Jitters there, waiting for me as he had been the day before. Unsurprisingly, the bar was nowhere to be seen. Jitters, however, was lying on top of a trash can, staring at me with that familiar, knowing look. It was almost like he was waiting for me to pick him up.

“Jitters!” I called out, feeling an odd sense of purrnership revive at the sight of his familiar face. Or rather, his familiar furball self. There was something comforting about his presence amid the repeat of today. You ever have that one constant in your life that keeps you sane? For me, it’s this cat.

Jitters stayed silent, which made me pause. Usually, when I called his name, he at least gave some response. An awkwardness of something not being right tugged at the edge of familiarity. This was different.

“Hmm,” I hummed. It developed into quite a puzzled look as we engaged in a staring contest. Me rubbing my chin while he tilted his head to meet my gaze with those green eyes of his. Ah, it hit me. I hadn’t given him his name yet in this timeline. “Okay, from now on, your name is Jitters. Understand?”

Jitters finally meowed, and I chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease. “Good, now we’re getting somewhere.” Naming the same cat for the second time was not exactly how I envisioned using my second chance at life. But here we are.

I needed to mull over how to handle the crisis at hand. Not the café. Maybe I’d try something different today. The Drunken Stag it is. Brutus would certainly allow me to hang around at his place. The tavern was far from ideal, but at least it was a start. A swig or two of ale and then ideas would flow. People always talked about alcohol giving you a boost in the morning to make you think clearer. I hoped it worked for me as well.

Before long, I was walking down the cobblestone streets, with Jitters marching at my side. I kicked off a conversation with him, explaining the situation I was in. “You see, pal, I’m stuck in this weird repeat of yesterday. Sounds crazy, right?” Even if Jitters didn’t get a word of what I was saying, he’d respond sometimes with a meow as if he did, drawing glances from passersby. No doubt curious about why this boy was chatting to a cat. Their expressions ranged from stupefaction to mild amusement. I paid them no mind, focusing on my feline buddy and the otherworldly mess I found myself in.

We turned onto a less populated street. One of the old buildings was undergoing renovation. There was a high wooden scaffolding with a few town builders on the wooden planks at the top, about five stories high, repairing the building walls. A few more of the planks were up there, and stacks of bricks were unsteadily balanced as the workers maneuvered around them.

Approaching the structure, a shout came from above. “Look out!” It wasn’t so much what was shouted but the fact of shouting. If someone yells “Heads up!” or “Out of the way, kid!” or something to that effect, you know, at least it narrows things down a bit. So when the shriek was simply to be on the lookout, I, of course, froze briefly and then tilted my head up to locate the source of the warning. You know that moment when you just know something bad is about to happen? Yep, that was me right then.

One of the workers had accidentally hit a stack of bricks, and they were plummeting down straight toward me with alarming speed. Time seemed to slow like a fish swimming in mud as I rooted to the spot.

“Crap.” Before I could move an inch, the bricks nailed me square on the head, one after another. The shock was immediate and startling, like a couple of arrows piercing into my skull. The surrounding area began to spin around me. My vision spun out of control, then became hazy, and finally gave way to a welling darkness.

I mean, here I got a second shot at life and I blow it by walking under a building under repair. As I gave in to the shadow, a thought crossed my mind. If I get out of this alive, I’m seriously considering wearing an armor helm everywhere I go.

A female voice whispered in my ear, and I blinked at the sunlight pouring through the window. I jerked upright, scanning the area around me. My bedroom? I touched my head. No bump, no injury at all. Waking up after getting bricked in the head is not my idea of fun. But here I was, back in my bed, and the day was starting over yet again. It was the same day, different headache. My guess was spot on. I must relive this day until I got it right, dying every time I failed to solve the crisis at hand. I had a moment where I just sat there cross-legged, pondering if I’d ever break free of this endless loop. If I am going to make it out, I need to be smarter, more careful, and perhaps a little luckier.

So I started my day once more, but with a couple of changes from the last time. I brought my sword along this time. Alfred and Mathilda were again chatting downstairs by the table. Upon seeing me, I stopped them from saying anything and just asked them to bring me breakfast. Quite odd because I had just eaten a few hours before and my stomach was growling again.

Once breakfast was over, I headed toward the front door and waited, expecting Alistair to barge in, and indeed he did. “Alex, you numbskull!” he bawled. “You didn’t wait for me yesterday!”

No hug this time, just a threat. “Out of the way, Alistair. Can’t you see I’m carrying my sword?”

Alistair’s eyes widened, noticing the sword at my waist. “A—All right, Alex,” he mumbled while hurrying out of my path. He didn’t even try to stop me from saying what he wanted. I guess that’s how it’s going to be from now on. Whenever I leave my house, my sword will be at my side.

On the way to the estate gate, I met Aiden. I repeated the same conversation we had during our previous encounter and went on into the town. I skipped the three moments that took place in the market, since they were going to happen anyway. Finally, I was back at the alleyway where the Chosen One bar should be. Pretty strange how some things just become routine, even when you’re stuck in a time loop.

I again expected to see Jitters there, waiting for me. And there he was, lounging on top of the same trash can, giving me that look that seemed to say, “Didn’t we just meet an hour ago?”

I named him, and the two of us made our way to the Drunken Stag. As Jitters and I walked through the streets, I started to relate to him what had been happening to me since everything I told him got reset due to my untimely death. We turned onto a quieter street. On one side, some renovation work was going on at one of the old buildings. High wooden scaffolding, stacks of bricks treacherously balanced, and a few workers were up top placing new bricks. A sense of déjà vu crept in like a shadow. I knew what was coming next.

On the dot, as I neared the building, a shout rang out from above. “Look out!”

I tilted my head upward to see the bricks falling. Of course, I stopped a couple of yards away from where I used to stand. The bricks crashed to the ground with a deafening thud. I’m not that stupid to get hit by those again.

Jitters looked up at me and meowed, almost like he was saying, “How do you know where the bricks will land?” I stroked his head, feeling a bit more confident. Maybe I could figure out how to break this loop and save everyone if I know what is coming for me and how the events are going to play out.

Wait a minute! What I’m thinking sounds familiar, as if I said something similar once to myself. But where and when did I say it? I tried to dig deeper into my memory, but it was like chasing a shadow in the fog. The more I pursued it, the more it danced away. I shook my head, deciding to focus on the task at hand. Perhaps the answer would come to me later.

“Come on, Jitters. We have a job to do.”

We continued on our way to the Drunken Stag. The streets seemed unusually silent, but I didn’t let it bother me. I needed to figure out how to stop Catherine and her goons. I couldn’t rely on Uncle Dane’s help or anything that required more than a day to prepare. There had to be something more pressing that I could do. Perhaps I could find out more about Catherine’s plan, like how the attack was going to take place tonight and then counter it.

Jitters meowed in agreement, or at least that’s how I chose to understand it. We arrived at the tavern. The place looked the same as the last time I was here. I pushed open the door, hoping the place had been tidied up and that Brutus would let me hang around. Inside, the atmosphere was not like the usual morning I was used to. There were only a handful of patrons, probably because of the brawl. I found a corner table and sat down, with Jitters hopping up onto the chair beside me.

“All right, pal.” I pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill to jot down all the things I needed to do. “Let’s get to work.”