The monitors burned through the dark with the glow of twelve pulsing points, each heartbeat flashing in rhythm to the ticking clocks.Rain tapped faintly against the glass walls of the underground lab, the only sound not counting backward.
Ha-rin stared at the holographic map hovering above the console.Each light blinked in a different sector of Luma City — from the riverfront to the mountain observatory.Twelve fragments of a broken past trying to live inside the present.
"It's spreading," she whispered. "They're waking up."
Jae-hyun adjusted the holographic interface, his hands steady though his voice was not."Each constant is a stored memory construct," he explained, eyes flicking between data streams. "They were part of the initial trial group.If they become self-aware, they'll start rewriting time from their emotional imprint."
Seo-jin, sitting cross-legged on the desk eating chips, frowned. "Translation: ghost clones with feelings?"
Ha-rin ignored him. "Can they hurt people?"
Jae-hyun hesitated. "If they think they're the original, yes."
Her heart thudded once, painfully slow."They're living what we lived?"
He nodded. "Their last recorded state before death or data collapse. The system will repeat their strongest emotions."
Ha-rin touched one of the glowing points — a pulse on the east side of the city.The lab lights flickered, and suddenly she smelled jasmine.Her breath hitched. "This one feels familiar."
Jae-hyun's head snapped up. "Don't connect, Ha-rin—"
But it was too late.
The lab dissolved around her.For a moment, she wasn't standing in the lab anymore — she was on a bridge under a golden sky, the air thick with the scent of rain and flowers.And across from her stood herself — or something that looked like her.
Same face. Same hair. Same trembling hands.But the eyes were hollow, shimmering silver, like mirrors remembering a dream.
The replica spoke softly, voice distorted but gentle.
"You shouldn't be here. This is my twelve minutes."
Ha-rin took a step forward. "Who are you?"
"I'm what you left behind."
The sky cracked like glass, light spilling through the fractures.
In the real world, Jae-hyun saw her body stiffen.Her pulse spiked on the monitor, eyes wide open, unfocused.
"Damn it, she linked fully," he muttered. "Ha-rin, can you hear me?"
Her voice came faintly through the comm. "She's… she's me, Jae-hyun. But not."
He cursed softly and began coding furiously. "Hang on. I'm tracing her feed. Seo-jin, keep her vitals stable."
Seo-jin tossed the chip bag aside. "Stable? She's glowing like a neon sign!"
Inside the mirror-space, the replica tilted her head."Do you still love him?"
Ha-rin's throat closed. "What?"
"Every Ha-rin loved him. Every version of us tried to save him. And every version failed."
"That's not true."
The reflection smiled faintly. "Then why are you here alone?"
The air rippled — the bridge beneath them bending, folding, rewriting itself into fragments of the lab, the village, the field of suns.
Ha-rin whispered, "You're trying to replace me."
"No," the replica said, stepping closer. "I'm trying to finish what you couldn't."
And then she reached out — and Ha-rin's chest burned like lightning.
In the lab, alarms blared.Jae-hyun's code lines blurred as her neural readings spiked.
Seo-jin shouted, "She's merging with something!"
Jae-hyun gritted his teeth. "No, she's being overwritten!"
He slammed his hand on the console. "Override link — Kang authorization!"
"ACCESS DENIED. PRIMARY CONSTANT PROTECTED."
"Protected by who?!" he shouted.
A new line of text appeared across the main screen —in Ha-rin's handwriting.
Don't stop her. I need to understand what I left behind.
Inside the mirror-space, Ha-rin's vision blurred as the replica reached her.The touch wasn't cold — it was familiar, like holding her own heartbeat.
The replica whispered, "If I disappear, you forget him. If I stay, he fades."
Ha-rin's tears burned. "There has to be a way for both."
The replica smiled softly. "Then remember me differently."
The world shattered.
Ha-rin gasped as she fell back into her body.The hum of the lab returned — the rain, the lights, the smell of ozone.Jae-hyun caught her before she hit the floor.
Her fingers clutched his shirt weakly. "She wasn't evil. She was… lonely."
He held her close, his voice breaking. "So are we, sometimes."
Seo-jin exhaled, slumping in relief. "Note to self: no one touches holograms unsupervised again."
Ha-rin managed a laugh through her tears. "Add that to the safety manual."
Jae-hyun brushed her hair from her face, eyes soft but shadowed."She said twelve constants. That means eleven more."
Ha-rin looked up at the glowing map.Each point pulsed in time with her heartbeat now.And at the center — one pulse larger, slower, darker.
She whispered, "That's the real Echo core."
Jae-hyun's hand tightened on hers."Then we find it before it finds us."