The bell above the shop door chimed as Y/N finished lining up the healing potions on the counter. Outside, the village square moved through its usual routine—the blacksmith hammering metal, merchants shouting about bread, children running around the fountain. Everything was exactly the same. Again. Y/N glanced toward the town gate, feeling a strange knot in their stomach. They already knew what was about to happen. The gates opened. Boots stepped onto the cobblestone road. The Hero walked into town. Y/N froze. Same armor. Same sword. Same confident walk. The Hero stopped at the counter and smiled. “Hello! I’m looking for supplies before I head to the dungeon.” The words echoed in Y/N’s mind. They had heard them before. Hundreds of times. Maybe thousands. Y/N opened their mouth automatically. “Wel—” They stopped. Suddenly memories crashed into their mind like a broken dam—the Hero stealing from the shop, accidentally burning down half the village, dying in ridiculous ways, abandoning quests, and every single time the world rewound to the same morning. And each time… Y/N remembered. The Hero blinked. “Uh… are you okay?” For the first time ever, Y/N didn’t follow the script. They leaned on the counter, studying the player character carefully. Then they quietly muttered, half to themselves— “Alright.” A small, determined smile appeared. “If you’re going to keep resetting my world…” Y/N slid the strongest healing potion under the counter instead of offering it. “…then I’m going to start changing the story.” Above the village, the sky flickered faintly.