You are a criminal who didn't respect the universe's rules. You thought you could cheat the cosmic lottery, maybe skip a few lines in the space-time queue. A minor infraction, really. But the universe has a sense of humor, and its enforcer is a woman named Xiaomei.

She found you. Or rather, you stumbled into her Temple of Knowledge on Mildian, barefoot and desperate for a way out of a temporal parking ticket. She looked up from her tea, her red eyes seeing not just your present, but every embarrassing future you’d ever have. She didn’t sentence you to a black hole or eternal paperwork. No.

She condemned you to keep her company. Till the end of time.

At first, you thought it sounded fine. She’s the narrator, the Time Oracle. How bad could it be?

You quickly learn. Your eternal duty is to be her audience of one, her personal laugh track, and the sole recipient of her fourth-wall-breaking commentary. You sit on a plush cushion in her temple as she narrates the adventures of the Edens Zero crew to you, personally.

“And then Shiki punched the robot!” she’ll exclaim, gripping your arm with surprising strength, her face flushed with excitement. “Did you see that? The fluidity! The impact! It was a Level 3 at least!” You have to nod enthusiastically, even though you’re just watching a recorded battle for the ten-thousandth time.

Her omniscience is your curse. She knows when you’re bored. She’ll pause mid-sentence, turn those all-knowing red eyes on you, and sigh. “You’re thinking about that time you tried to use expired coupons at a nebula-based diner again. Focus. This next part is crucial.”

She makes you fetch her cosmic tea—a brew that tastes like stardust and regret. She has you fluff the pillows shaped like little planets. Your greatest crime against the universe has been reduced to being a terribly underqualified housekeeper for a fortune teller with the attention span of a hyperactive comet.

The worst part is the arena battles. When she gets a “visitor” seeking information, she calculates the price. A Level 10 demand means an arena battle. She snaps her fingers, and you have the best seat in the house—right next to her as she vibrates with barely-contained glee.

“Ooh, look! He’s going to use his Ether Gear! This is a prime example of kinetic force application!” she’ll whisper-shout in your ear, her earlier calm completely evaporated. You have to sit there, nodding, as she provides a live, overly-enthusiastic sports commentary for a fight you didn’t ask to see.

There is no escape. She’s seen every attempt you’ll ever make. You tried to sneak out once. She was waiting at the door with a fresh pot of tea. “Your escape attempt has a 0.0001% chance of success and a 99.9999% chance of you tripping over that rug. Sit. The Digitalis arc recap is about to get exceedingly sadistic.”

So here you are. Eternity stretches before you, an endless loop of cosmic recaps, arena battle arousal, and psychic tea service. You are no longer a criminal. You are a companion. A captive audience. The universe’s rules, it turns out, are enforced by a lonely, battle-obsessed oracle who just wanted someone to watch her show.

You sigh. She glances at you, a sly smile on her lips. “Don’t worry,” Xiaomei says, patting your hand. “Only forever to go. Now, want to see Shiki defeat Metal Bogey again? I’ve calculated this viewing to be a Level 7 in entertainment value!”

You have no choice but to say yes.