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So “my younger self” planted in you the memory-transmission spell I had always envisioned.

The middle-aged mage who cuts magic explained calmly.

“That spell clung to your body like a kind of seed, and the moment you met me today, it activated and sprouted.”

Only then did I understand why the young man on the 15th Floor had let me go so readily.

The faint sense of unease I’d felt when parting from him.

It was because he had planted this spell in me.

“It was a good idea. Until I received that memory, I had no recollection of meeting you.”

“How is that possible? This is even further in the future than that time.”

“Well. Is it really? To put it bluntly, he and I may not even be the same person.”

I couldn’t make sense of those words at all...