The morning was slow, reluctant—like even time needed to stretch before believing in a new day.The rain had finally stopped, but a thin mist still curled through the valley, veiling Aureum-ri in pale gray silence.
Ha-rin woke to warmth.Not sunlight—him.
Jae-hyun was already awake beside her, sitting on the floor near the window, his back against the wall.He was watching the fog with that same half-lost expression she'd seen the night he came back—like a man who'd found his way home but wasn't sure the door would stay open.
The boy still slept, curled up near the fireplace.Seo-jin snored in his chair, drooling on a book that absolutely didn't deserve it.
The quiet should've felt peaceful.It didn't.
Ha-rin pushed the blanket aside and crossed to Jae-hyun.She sat beside him, knees brushing. "You didn't sleep."
He smiled faintly. "Apparently, I don't need to."
"Since when?"
He turned, eyes glinting faint silver. "Since I stopped belonging to a single hour."
Her heart clenched. "Don't talk like that."
He reached over, tracing the red thread still wound around her wrist. "You tied me to the present. I'm not planning to break it."
His hand lingered longer than it needed to.The warmth between them was fragile, intimate—the quiet kind of chikkumudulu that made her forget where breath ended and emotion began.
She leaned closer, whispering, "Promise you won't disappear again."
He smiled. "Not unless you tell me to."
She shook her head. "That's not funny."
"It wasn't a joke," he said softly.
Outside, the mist thickened until the window blurred white.The boy stirred, rubbing his eyes. "Mom?"
Ha-rin turned, her tone softening instantly. "Morning, sweetheart."
He frowned. "The clocks stopped again."
Seo-jin snorted awake. "Please tell me that's a metaphor."
The boy shook his head, eyes wide. "No. Everything outside is quiet."
They rushed to the window.The world beyond was still—completely still.The mist hung unmoving, frozen mid-swirl.Even the rainwater dripping from the roof hovered mid-air like glass beads.
Ha-rin whispered, "It's happening again."
Jae-hyun stood slowly. "No… this isn't a loop. It's waiting."
Seo-jin blinked. "Waiting for what?"
Jae-hyun's gaze unfocused for a moment, as if listening to something far away.Then, quietly: "For me."
The silence deepened until even breathing felt too loud.Then came the faintest sound—one heartbeat, slow and strong, echoing through the floorboards.Ha-rin looked down. The boards beneath Jae-hyun's feet shimmered faintly with light.
Seo-jin groaned. "Oh, wonderful. He's syncing with architecture now."
Ha-rin turned sharply. "Seo-jin."
"What? It's not like sarcasm stops reality from bending!"
But even as he spoke, the air began to hum—soft, low, familiar.Ha-rin's chest tightened. "That sound—"
Jae-hyun's voice was almost reverent. "It's Echo. But it's… softer. It's not angry."
The boy crept closer, peering at Jae-hyun's hands."They're glowing again."
And they were—faint silver light tracing through his veins, pulsing like living circuitry.
Ha-rin caught his wrist gently."Does it hurt?"
He shook his head, though his voice trembled. "No. It feels like remembering something I shouldn't."
"Like what?"
He looked at her, eyes flickering between brown and silver."Your laugh," he said quietly. "The one from the old lab—before everything fell apart. The day we spilled the catalyst, and you yelled at me for being 'the most charming disaster alive.'"
She froze. "That wasn't supposed to be stored in Echo."
He smiled faintly. "Apparently, it kept the best parts."
Her throat tightened. "And the worst?"
He hesitated. "Those too."
Seo-jin, trying to stay casual, started pacing. "So let me get this straight. The universe froze again because… your boyfriend's emotional processing unit is buffering?"
Ha-rin gave him a look. "You're not helping."
He sighed, rubbing his temple. "Fine. Then what do we do? Because if time's holding its breath, someone's going to suffocate."
Jae-hyun stood, his voice calm but strained. "I can fix it. But I'll need to connect again."
Ha-rin's eyes widened. "No. Not again."
"It's not like before. I can control it now."
She shook her head. "Last time you said that, the sky duplicated itself."
He smiled softly. "And yet you still followed me."
She stepped closer, voice shaking. "Because you're worth breaking universes for."
That stopped him cold.
For a long heartbeat, neither spoke.Then he reached for her, resting his forehead against hers."If I could live in one hour forever," he murmured, "it would be this one."
The boy's small voice broke the spell. "Dad, the air's cracking."
They turned.The mist outside had fractured into glowing shards—thin cracks of light spreading through the sky like spiderwebs.
Seo-jin stumbled backward. "That's not a good sign. That's literally never a good sign."
Jae-hyun took a deep breath. "It's trying to restart."
Ha-rin grabbed his arm. "Then we stop it. Together."
He nodded, a small smile ghosting his lips. "Together."
He closed his eyes. The glow beneath his skin brightened, spreading until the entire room pulsed with light.The heartbeat sound deepened—two, then three, then twelve at once.
Ha-rin clung to his hand. "Jae-hyun!"
He whispered, "Don't let go."
"I won't."
The world tilted—light folding in on itself.Ha-rin's vision filled with memories that weren't hers—his memories, their parents', flashes of a dozen timelines collapsing into one.
She saw herself laughing, crying, dying, surviving—every version of their love condensed into one impossible pulse.The boy's voice echoed distantly, calling for her.Seo-jin cursed somewhere behind them, as usual.
Then, suddenly—stillness.
The cracks sealed.The mist began to move again.Raindrops fell, soft and ordinary.
Jae-hyun opened his eyes—brown again.
He smiled, tired but whole. "It worked."
Ha-rin pressed her forehead against his chest, whispering through tears. "Never do that again."
He laughed weakly. "I'll try to schedule all future world repairs after breakfast."
Seo-jin groaned. "If you two are done redefining couple goals, can someone please explain how my reflection just winked at me?"
Ha-rin looked up.And for just a moment, in the wet window glass, she saw another pair of herself and Jae-hyun—smiling back.Then they faded.