Theodore Frost froze solid, a tempest of disbelief raging in his eyes.
"How could this be... How could this be different from my previous life?!"
He racked his brain. He had always believed that being reborn simply meant reliving the past. Since it was a do-over, everything should have unfolded exactly as before, without the slightest deviation. Yet the reality before him was a sledgehammer, viciously shattering his every conviction.
Beside him, Silas Hawthorne fell silent for a long time, his brows knitted tightly together as he muttered, 'Could it be... that no matter how much we prepare, it's still not enough in the end?'
"Silas Hawthorne!"
Theodore Frost's voice shot up, laced with panic but also a desperate, do-or-die resolve. "You can't say that! We've already given it our all, haven't we? Get the utilities repaired, now! The water can go, but we absolutely cannot lose power! It's the only way people can stay warm and survive!"
