All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

Kotomi Izumi went straight to the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry or craving something to eat—she was there to test a new ability that had appeared on her system panel.

According to Kazumi, this wasn’t something unlocked, nor was it granted—it was returned.

Kazumi had said that this was a power Kotomi originally possessed, but had once entrusted to her. Now, Kazumi was giving it back.

Though Kotomi often argued and teased Kazumi, she trusted her deeply. Yet, this time, she found it difficult to believe Kazumi’s words.

After all, she had absolutely no memory of the matter Kazumi mentioned.

But if she truly had no memory of it, then why—after receiving this new ability—was she able to master it effortlessly, as if she had used it many times before?

Used it often…

Kotomi let out a wry smile. Now that she understood what this new power could do and what it was capable of, if she really had used it frequently in the past… just what kind of dangerous experiences must she have gone through?

Kotomi quickly considered another possibility.

There were a few segments of her memory that were incomplete. Simply put, her brain had entered a kind of self-protective mode—constantly applying psychological and subconscious suggestion, sealing away certain memories and locking them tightly behind mental chains.

Unless she accidentally found the ”key” that could unlock those chains, she would never be able to recall them. Those sealed memories would remain forever forgotten.

To her conscious mind, it would be as if those things had never happened—no memory, no recognition. Even if a momentary sense of familiarity flickered in her mind, she wouldn’t recognize it as something she had once experienced. And to the people who had shared those moments with her, it would seem as though she had lost her memory.

Kotomi suspected that the memories related to this [Clock] ability might be among those that her mind had sealed away.

What could possibly be contained in those memories about the [Clock] that her brain had chosen to lock them up in self-protection?

Kotomi couldn’t find the answer—not yet. Perhaps, as Kazumi had said, all answers would naturally reveal themselves when the time was right.

But Kotomi wasn’t one to leave everything up to fate. She wanted to do whatever she could—to change something, even just a little.

For example, if Kazumi was destined to awaken a few months from now, then perhaps, if she worked hard enough, Kazumi might wake in a few weeks… or even a few days.

That was the change Kotomi most desired right now. The only problem was—she had no idea how to make it happen.

”Forget it. I shouldn’t overthink this right now. I should first test what this new ability can do. If what I know about it in my mind is accurate, then this power… is terrifying.”

Muttering softly, Kotomi reached for a carving knife from the kitchen knife stand. Taking a deep breath, she placed the blade against her wrist—and drew it across without hesitation.

For the first trial, she didn’t cut too deeply, only enough for blood to spurt out. Her life was now bound to Kazumi’s; any possible danger had to be avoided.

Almost immediately, the scene before her eyes confirmed the true power of her new ability.

Even though she already knew the effect in theory, seeing it firsthand still filled her with awe. She rubbed her eyes, pinched her cheeks to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

Of course, the pain from slicing open her wrist just moments ago was more than enough proof that this wasn’t a dream.

”In that case… let’s test it again.”

Kotomi gripped the knife once more—this time, instead of pointing the blade at her wrist, she turned the tip toward her neck.

The next second—

Splurt—

The sharp sound of steel piercing flesh rang out. The blade drove through Kotomi’s throat, the wound spreading rapidly as blood sprayed forth. The searing pain and the sensation of her life fading like a mirage caused Kotomi’s hands to tremble—

The knife handle slipped from her grasp, and Kotomi fell backward with a heavy thud as her back hit the floor. Perhaps her head struck the ground during the fall, for a dull, painful sound echoed through the kitchen.

Her empty eyes stared blankly at the ceiling as she lay motionless in a pool of blood. Her pale face and the carving knife lodged through her neck clearly spoke of death.

But what followed was nothing short of bizarre.

From Kotomi’s motionless body, countless springs, gears, clock hands, coiled wires, and black-gold pendulums—some even made of blood-red crystal—began to emerge from within, floating upward. Each piece rotated and aligned itself in perfect order, assembling before her eyes.

Kotomi’s once-empty gaze turned dazed and calm. She stared at the parts hovering above, slowly coming together piece by piece. At last, all the components that had emerged from her body fused into one magnificent, black-gold clock—its countless crimson hands and gear wheels spinning madly.

In the echo of ticking seconds, Kotomi’s stiff and frozen body began to move again. The steady swing of the pendulum, the whirring of gears, and the rhythmic turning of the clock hands surrounded her like a celestial choir, as if angels themselves were chanting holy hymns to grant new life to the dead.

The knife that had pierced through her neck was grasped by an unseen hand and gently pulled free. The blood that had spilled across the floor began flowing backward, returning to her body. The gaping wound in her neck filled rapidly with new flesh.

At the same time, Kotomi’s body rose from the floor in an unnatural manner, as though an invisible force had taken hold of her hands and lifted her up.

At that very moment, everything happening around her seemed like a perfect reversal of time itself—driven by the motion of the black-gold clock.

This was no healing spell. Healing could mend wounds, but it could not undo what had already happened. Yet, the neck she had just impaled now bore not a single scar. The blood on her nightgown, the floor, and the blade—vanished completely.

Even the metallic scent of blood in the air dissipated the instant Kotomi regained her footing and consciousness.

The girl who should have died was now standing, alive again. From the instant the clock parts had risen from within her and assembled into the black-gold clock, whose crimson hands spun wildly—Kotomi had been resurrected.

There were no wounds, no lingering traces of her death. The scene had been reset to before she had stabbed herself, as if nothing had ever occurred—a miraculous resurrection.

This wasn’t the manipulation of memory. It was a direct interference with the very flow of time—a pure temporal concept. It reversed only the changes that time itself had inflicted on Kotomi, returning her body to the state it had been in moments before her death. Yet, the world around her remained unaffected.

When Kotomi had driven the knife into her neck, the clock had read 1:55 a.m. Now, it was precisely 2:00 a.m.

There was no connection to healing or any conventional restoration. This ability transcended logic—it was both impossible and absolute. Because the only thing it could guarantee… was that Kotomi could not die.

And in that moment, she also learned the name of this power.

The pure dominion over the concept of time—Clock of the Twilight Demon.

When the black-gold clock had first appeared, before its hands began to spin, the time it displayed was five o’clock.

In Japan, the period around five in the evening—just before dusk—is called Oumagatoki, the Twilight Hour.

Perhaps that was where the name came from.

Surely, if anyone other than Kotomi or Kazumi had witnessed such a sight, their understanding of the world would have shattered instantly.

Kotomi touched her neck, then picked up the carving knife once more. After catching her breath for a moment, she suddenly drove the blade straight into her own head.

Bang!

She fell again.

Blood spread across the floor in a dark crimson pool.

Once more, the mechanical parts rose from within the cracks of reality, assembling in the air into the same black-gold clock. The crimson hands spun violently—

And Kotomi revived once again.

The scent of blood vanished. The splattered crimson retracted into her body. Time itself had rewound only for her, restoring her to the moment before the knife had pierced her skull.

After testing it several times firsthand, Kotomi finally returned the carving knife to its stand. When she walked barefoot back to her bedroom and lay down again, she realized her whole body was drenched in cold sweat.

It hurt so much!

Although that magnificent black-gold clock could revive her, each time she used the knife to kill herself in order to verify the ability of the Clock of the Twilight Demon, the accompanying pain was still entirely real. Kotomi had no idea how she had managed not to scream aloud.

Perhaps she had been in so much pain that she didn’t even have the strength to scream?

”...”

To manipulate the concept of time itself—to use it to achieve resurrection.

This ability was far too powerful, enough to crush anyone’s understanding of reality. If it were something Kazumi had unlocked or gifted her, that would already be beyond comprehension.

But Kazumi had said that it was a power she had once possessed herself—and that Kazumi had only returned it to her.

I used to have an ability this powerful? Kotomi thought. She wanted to sigh in disbelief, but stopped herself. If she spoke now, she might not be able to control her emotions—and if she accidentally woke Aimi, who was still sleeping beside her, that would be troublesome.

She looked at her own hands, then at Aimi peacefully sleeping next to her. After a brief moment of silence, Kotomi gently pulled Aimi into her arms.

Before long, Kotomi drifted into a calm, peaceful sleep.

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