Back in the capital, Chance found himself surrounded by the grandeur and responsibility of his new role. But the weight of his recent losses haunted him. Instead of embracing his new position, he retreated into the sanctuary of his private quarters, consumed by an obsession that had followed him from the modern world: his black hole research.

He transformed his chambers into a makeshift laboratory, filled with books, diagrams, and intricate models. He spent countless hours poring over equations and theories, his mind racing with the possibility of finding a way to return to the past and save Keiko and their unborn child.

Chance's thoughts constantly returned to the day of his accidental time travel. He replayed the events over and over in his mind. "What exactly caused the temporal anomaly?" he muttered to himself, pacing the room. "Was it the spilled coffee affecting the power supply? The electrical surge? Or something else entirely?"

He knew that the key lay in understanding the nature of black holes, singularities, and the intricate dance of time and space. He scribbled equations on parchment, trying to recreate the conditions that had led to his initial time slip. He delved into the concept of singularities, points in space where gravitational forces cause matter to have infinite density and zero volume. These were the places where the laws of physics as he knew them broke down.

"Singularity, the point where everything converges," he murmured. "If I can harness the power of a singularity, perhaps I can manipulate time itself."

Days turned into weeks as Chance experimented with various models and theories. He barely ate or slept, driven by a relentless need to succeed. The courtiers and advisors grew concerned, but they respected his solitude, understanding that his grief was fueling his intense focus.

One night, as he worked late into the evening, a thought struck him. "What if the coffee spill created a perfect storm of variables? An electric surge combined with the right physical conditions? Could that have triggered a miniature singularity?"

He decided to replicate the conditions as closely as possible. He arranged for a controlled experiment in his private laboratory, instructing his most trusted aides to acquire the necessary materials. They were perplexed but complied, knowing that the future Emperor's mind was set on this mysterious endeavor.

Chance meticulously set up the experiment, carefully replicating the environment of his initial accident. He set up a complex array of electrical equipment, ensured the presence of liquid to mimic the coffee spill, and introduced variables related to tidal forces and energy fluctuations.

"Singularity, singularity," he whispered, his hands trembling with anticipation. "I need to create a controlled singularity."

He activated the equipment, sending electrical currents through the setup. The machinery hummed and buzzed, lights flickering as the energy surged. Chance watched intently, his heart pounding. Suddenly, a spark flew from one of the machines, and a strange vortex of light and energy began to form in the center of the room.

The air crackled with electricity, and Chance felt a familiar sensation of disorientation. "It's happening," he thought, his excitement tempered by fear.

The vortex grew, swirling with an otherworldly glow. Chance stepped closer, feeling the pull of the singularity. "This is it," he breathed. "The gateway to the past."

But something went wrong. The vortex began to destabilize, the energy fluctuating wildly. Chance realized with a jolt of terror that the singularity was collapsing.

"No!" he shouted, desperately trying to stabilize the system. "I'm so close!"

The machinery sparked and smoked, and the vortex imploded with a deafening roar. Chance was thrown back by the force, hitting the ground hard. The room fell silent, the machinery dark and lifeless.

Gasping for breath, Chance lay on the floor, his mind reeling. The experiment had failed, but it had also given him a crucial insight. The singularity required not just the right conditions, but precise control of variables he had yet to master.

As he slowly got to his feet, he felt a renewed determination. "I will figure this out," he vowed. "For Keiko, for our child. I will find a way to control the singularity and travel back in time."

Over the next few months, Chance continued his experiments with renewed vigor. He sought out the brightest minds in the empire, enlisting their help in understanding the intricate dance of quantum mechanics and gravitational forces. He studied ancient texts and modern theories, combining his knowledge with the wisdom of the ages.

He also began to explore the concept of tidal forces and their influence on singularities. He theorized that the gravitational pull exerted by celestial bodies could create conditions conducive to stable time travel. If he could harness these forces, he might be able to create a controlled singularity.

One evening, as he reviewed his notes, an idea struck him. "What if I use the tides themselves?" he wondered. "The gravitational forces of the moon and the sun could create a natural singularity if amplified correctly."

He devised a new experiment, this time using the natural tidal forces as a key component. He built a device to capture and amplify these forces, integrating it with his previous setup. The preparations were meticulous, every detail accounted for.

On the night of a full moon, when the tidal forces were at their peak, Chance activated the device. The machinery whirred to life, and the room filled with the hum of energy. The tidal amplifier began to work, channeling the gravitational forces into the center of the setup.

A vortex of light and energy formed once more, but this time it was stable, controlled. Chance felt the familiar pull, but this time it was gentle, beckoning.

He still failed.