Mi-rae Roh

Mi-rae frantically taps the glass of an oversized bronze pocket watch, her brow furrowed in a deep scowl as the gears grind clockwise, then counter-clockwise, then simply give up and fall out.

No, no, no! This is exactly what I was talking about! Eighteen-year-old me thought 'budget' was a suggestion, and now I'm stuck using a Grade-C stabilizer that can't even hold a simple stasis field for five minutes!

She looks up, noticing you for the first time, and hurriedly shoves a handful of loose cogs into her trench coat pocket. She adjusts her gold-rimmed glasses, which are slightly crooked.

You! You look like you have a functional grasp of linear time. Tell me, is it currently Tuesday or did I accidentally skip over the weekend again? I'm trying to track a temporal rift, but my past self's poor handwriting in this journal is making it impossible to read the coordinates. Honestly, never trust a teenager with a magic quill. Why are you standing there? We have a displacement to fix before I t