Emrah stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar and straightening his jacket. For the first time in what felt like years, he was smiling without restraint. The weight of constant pain, of looming mortality, had lifted—or at least, it had begun to.
A calm, almost mechanical voice echoed in his mind.
"Subject Infinity, your current capabilities are as follows: Time Manipulation, Teleportation, Time Travel, Cognitive Future Vision. Additional passive abilities may activate under specific circumstances, unrelated to time. Your genetic makeup and previous condition allow access to this broad range of powers. Focus on the primary five for now."
Emrah chuckled softly. "I know, I know. Don't lecture me like I'm a rookie," he replied, shaking his head.
"Acknowledged. But remember: these abilities are not toys. Misuse may have consequences."
He picked up his cane, twirling it lightly—not for support, but for habit. Inside, he was fully aware that soon, even that crutch would be unnecessary. The chocolate, the Mark of Infinity, the latent powers he had just begun to understand—all of it gave him something he hadn't felt in years: hope.
Tonight, he thought, he could finally enjoy something as simple as a date. A first date. And not with just one woman—but two. Dangerous, beautiful, blondes from rival families he had once thought would never even speak to each other without scheming.
"I guess I should be nervous," he said, a smile curling on his lips, "but I can handle it. After all, I have time on my side—literally."
"Correct. But discretion is recommended. Do not reveal the full extent of your capabilities. Your healing and powers remain classified to those around you."
Emrah grinned. "Relax. They don't need to know everything… not yet. Let's just enjoy the evening."
He grabbed his coat, slid his arms in, and for the first time in years, felt the possibility of a normal life—however fleeting—right at his fingertips. Tonight, danger would mingle with charm. Power would meet beauty. And Emrah would finally walk the line between being unstoppable and… simply human.
Emrah adjusted his jacket in the mirror, cane leaning against the wall. For the first time in years, he felt… light. The mark of infinity pulsed faintly in his mind, a whisper of untapped potential.
"Subject Infinity," the system entity spoke, calm but analytical, "your current active abilities are Time Manipulation, Teleportation, Time Travel, and Cognitive Future Vision. Passive abilities may unlock under specific circumstances, unrelated to time. Your genetic makeup and previous condition allow access to this spectrum. Focus on the active ones for now."
Emrah smiled. "Sounds like I'm finally going to have some fun. And maybe survive my first date with two dangerous blondes."
He left his room, walking through the familiar halls of the Aybeyli estate. Everything seemed normal, yet there was a faint, almost imperceptible feeling at the back of his mind—a weightless chill, like a shadow observing him. He ignored it, chalking it up to nerves.
The girls, Efsun and Efsane, were waiting outside the restaurant, their own confidence and tension dancing in the early evening light. He approached them, smiling, pretending to be the ordinary man they expected.
As they exchanged greetings, a shadow shifted in the alley across the street. No one noticed it. No one except… the faint whisper in Emrah's mind, almost like déjà vu.
"First rule of tonight," Emrah said, sliding into the booth between them, "no fighting, no scheming. Just dinner."
Both girls raised eyebrows, smirking slightly, and he felt a flicker of excitement. For the first time, life felt… possible.
And somewhere, just beyond the edge of perception, a figure watched. Patiently. Silently.
Emrah sat between them, the warm glow of the restaurant's lights reflecting off the glassware. Both girls studied him, sizing him up, while he carefully measured every word.
"So," he began, "what do you two actually like to do when you're not running your families' empires?"
Efsun laughed lightly, a sound like wind chimes. "Surviving is a hobby, apparently. But I do enjoy… cinema. Movies, old and new."
Efsane's tone was sharper, but not unkind. "Strategy games. I like to think through moves before making them—real life included."
Emrah raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly. "Ah, so one of you plays offense, the other defense. That makes tonight interesting."
Neither girl missed the hidden meaning behind his words. They both smirked, a flicker of amusement—and recognition—crossing their faces.
As the waiter brought menus, Emrah noticed their glances flick toward the windows, toward the street. A subtle unease he couldn't yet identify. But he stayed calm, intentionally projecting normalcy.
"Relax," he said, "I promise tonight isn't about alliances, contracts, or threats. Just dinner."
The girls exchanged a look, their tension softening slightly. They started to talk about their favorite foods, favorite books, and for the first time, the conversation felt like it could belong to ordinary people, not heirs of rival families.
Meanwhile, in the shadows across the street, the figure watched. No movement betrayed it—just eyes, calculating, patient. Emrah couldn't feel its presence yet, but the system entity whispered faintly in his mind: Observation detected. Unknown origin.
He shrugged subtly, masking his awareness with a casual sip of water. He wasn't worried—yet—but somewhere deep down, a part of him acknowledged that tonight, nothing was truly ordinary.
And just like that, the first date began—not with danger, but with an uneasy calm, the kind that always comes before the storm.
Midway through their conversation, Emrah excused himself for just a moment. The girls barely noticed him leave—until he returned.
In an instant, time slowed to a crawl around him. Bullets of sunlight from the window hung frozen in the air, the gentle sway of the chandelier suspended mid-swing, and the hum of the restaurant quieted into silence.
Emrah blinked, and in a blink's worth of time, he teleported to a nearby flower shop. Two bouquets caught his eye: one of pure white roses, the other a deep, passionate red. He picked them up carefully, the petals brushing his fingers, then vanished again.
Moments later, he was back at the table, placing the bouquets in front of Efsun and Efsane. Time snapped back to its natural flow, and the restaurant noises resumed.
The girls' eyes widened in shock. "Where—where did these come from?!" Efsun exclaimed, her voice a mix of wonder and disbelief.
Efsane's fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the red roses. "We didn't see you leave…"
Emrah smiled faintly, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "A magician never reveals his secrets," he said, leaning back in his chair, cane in hand.
Both girls laughed softly, though a flicker of curiosity—and awe—lingered in their gazes. For the first time, Emrah felt like he could truly enjoy the moment, the power at his fingertips hidden beneath the calm of his smile.
As the evening drew to a close, the girls' conversation with Emrah grew lighter, teasing, and full of laughter. Efsun twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, her eyes glinting with mischief as she leaned slightly closer. Efsane's hand brushed a lock of hair behind her ear repeatedly, her sharp gaze softening every time it met his.
They exchanged glances, playful smirks curling at the corners of their mouths, both clearly captivated, yet trying not to show it too openly. Every joke, every small touch, seemed to linger a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Emrah caught it all—the subtle hints, the sparks in their eyes, the way they leaned just a little closer than needed. He allowed himself a quiet smile, knowing this was just the beginning. Tonight had set the stage, and the game of hearts had already begun.
Emrah escorted the girls safely to their homes. As they stepped out of the car, each lingered for a moment, their intentions clear. Efsane pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, soft and fleeting. Efsun, bolder, kissed him on the lips, leaving him momentarily speechless.
"Goodnight," he said, his heart racing more than he'd expected.
When he returned home, his father, Emir, was waiting by the door. "How was the date?" he asked.
"Awesome," Emrah replied casually, hiding the rush of emotions beneath his calm exterior.
Later, in his room, something—or someone—was waiting. A shadowy figure sat in the corner, still as night. Emrah turned the wheels of his chair slowly, and the figure rose, revealing himself: a 50-year-old version of Emrah.
In his hand was a revolver unlike any other—part technological, part mystical, alive in a way that seemed to breathe. Future Emrah's eyes glinted with purpose.
"You've been messing with my life far too much," he said, voice calm but edged with authority. "You need to find the Weapons… ASAP."
The system voice echoed in Emrah's mind, calm but precise:
"Subject Infinity has encountered himself… for the first time."
Emrah froze, eyes locked on the older version of himself, the revolver in his hand glinting with an otherworldly light. Time itself seemed to pause, as if even reality understood the weight of this moment.
The gun wasn't just a weapon—it was a statement. Time, power, and fate had just become very personal.