I'm Not a Regressor, Chapter 1: The Unexpected Return
The flickering neon sign of the "Golden Dragon" noodle shop cast a lurid glow on the rain-slicked streets. Inside, the air hung thick with the aroma of simmering broth and the murmur of late-night conversations. I, Jian, sat nursing a bowl of steaming noodles, the spicy broth doing little to warm the chill that had settled deep in my bones. It wasn't the weather; it was the unsettling feeling of déjà vu that clung to me like a second skin.
This wasn't just any ordinary night. This night, everything felt…off. The way the waitress smiled, the rhythm of the rain against the windowpane, even the taste of the noodles – it all felt eerily familiar, yet subtly… different. The feeling intensified until it was a physical ache, a pressure building behind my eyes. Then, it hit me. The memories. The crushing weight of a life already lived, a future I thought I'd escaped.
H2: What is a Regressor?
Before I delve into the chaos that ensued, let's address the elephant in the room – or rather, the regressor in the room. A regressor, in this context, refers to someone who inexplicably relives past events, often cyclical, trapped in a repeating loop of time. They remember their past lives, their past deaths, and the crushing weight of knowing what's to come. I, Jian, was supposed to be one of them.
H2: Why Am I Not a Regressor? (The Central Question)
That's the million-dollar question, isn't it? According to my memories – or rather, the memories – I should be knee-deep in the disastrous consequences of a poorly planned heist by now. I should be facing the cold, hard reality of my impending death at the hands of a ruthless gang known only as the "Crimson Serpents." But here I am, alive, relatively unscathed, and frankly, bewildered.
H2: What are the differences between a normal life and a regressor’s life?
The difference is stark. A normal life allows for spontaneity, for mistakes, for the simple joy of uncertainty. A regressor's life is a tightly wound spring, poised to unravel at the slightest disruption. Every action is calculated, every word weighed, every breath a reminder of the impending doom. There's no room for error, no room for growth, only the bleak repetition of a predetermined fate.
H2: How does it feel to relive the past?
The feeling is best described as a suffocating blanket of familiarity, woven with threads of dread. It’s the weight of expectation, the crushing burden of knowing the future, even while desperately wishing to change it. The feeling of déjà vu is magnified, constantly reminding you of the impending doom. It's a constant state of anxiety, a perpetual sense of impending disaster. The joy of discovery is replaced by the weariness of repetition.
H2: Is there a way to escape the loop of regression?
This is the ultimate question that haunts every regressor. While there's no guaranteed method, some believe that altering key events, making choices different from those made in past iterations, might break the cycle. Others seek mystical solutions, spiritual enlightenment, or even technological interventions. The truth is, escaping the regression loop is a desperate struggle, a gamble against time and fate itself.
H2: What's Next for Jian?
As for me, Jian? I'm still figuring that out. The absence of the impending doom has left me strangely disoriented. Am I truly free? Or is this just a cruel twist of fate, a temporary reprieve before the inevitable return? Only time will tell. One thing is certain: this is far from over. The night is young, the noodles are delicious, and my journey to understand this unexpected change has just begun.
This first chapter ends on a cliffhanger to keep readers engaged and wanting to know more about Jian's situation and the mystery surrounding his seemingly averted fate. The use of PAA-style questions as subheadings helps to organize the information and cater to the potential reader searches, improving the SEO aspect of the piece.
