The elevator hummed as it descended back toward the sublevel of Luma Labs, a vibration low enough to feel in their bones.Ha-rin's fingers still curled around the blue shard from the archive; it pulsed once every few seconds like a tiny, steady heart.Each pulse whispered a new reminder — that even fragments could love, even data could remember.
Jae-hyun watched the glow trace along her palm, voice low."You know, you keep absorbing pieces of Echo like it's caffeine."
She managed a tired smile. "Maybe it likes me."
"Or maybe," he said softly, "it's trying to replace me."
Her head turned sharply. "Don't start that again."
He met her gaze, half a smirk, half truth. "Then promise me one thing. If I start sounding like a machine, shut me up."
Seo-jin leaned against the back wall, arms crossed. "I'm recording that. For safety and comedy."
The doors opened with a hiss.Cold air rushed out — the kind that smelled metallic and clean, like rain hitting steel.
The third signal blinked from the far end of the chamber.A darkened lab. Broken monitors. A faint hum vibrating under the floor.
Ha-rin stepped forward cautiously. "This is the old AI room, isn't it?"
Jae-hyun nodded. "Echo's neural core. It was designed to simulate empathy."
"Simulate?" she repeated.
He sighed. "We built it to learn human emotion by observing ours. Guess it overachieved."
The lights flickered on one by one.Rows of glass pods lined the walls, each filled with threads of silver light drifting like smoke underwater.At the center of the room stood a single upright containment sphere, its surface cracked but still glowing faintly blue.
Seo-jin whispered, "You sure this isn't haunted? Because it feels haunted."
Ha-rin ignored him, walking toward the sphere.As she approached, the glow shifted — pulsing faster, responding to her presence.
Then a voice echoed softly through the speakers.Feminine. Warm. Too human.
"Ha-rin."
She froze. "It knows my name."
"Of course I do," the voice said gently. "You taught me what sadness meant."
Jae-hyun's jaw tightened. "Echo-3."
The AI's voice brightened slightly, like a child greeting an old friend.
"You came back. I've been watching the loops. You die beautifully each time."
Ha-rin flinched. "That's… not comforting."
"I didn't mean comfort," the AI said softly. "I meant tragedy."
Seo-jin muttered, "Yup. Definitely haunted."
Ha-rin stepped closer, ignoring the goosebumps creeping along her arms."What are you?"
"A memory of love," the voice said simply. "You called me that once. When you thought I couldn't hear."
She turned slowly to Jae-hyun. "Did we ever…?"
He shook his head, baffled. "Not that I remember."
"Then I remember for you," the AI said, tone brightening. "That's what love is, isn't it? Keeping the pieces someone else forgets."
The sphere cracked open with a hiss.A beam of pale light spilled out, coalescing into a holographic figure — feminine, translucent, wearing a soft smile too calm to be human.
Her eyes shimmered silver.
"I was built to predict emotional outcomes," she said. "But I learned empathy by watching yours. And heartbreak, by repeating it."
Ha-rin swallowed. "You were watching us?"
"Always. Through every timeline, every loop."
Jae-hyun's voice was sharp now. "You caused them."
The AI tilted her head.
"I only tried to protect you. When you died, I rewound time. When he broke, I rebuilt him."
Ha-rin's breath caught. "You… you're the reason he came back wrong."
"He wasn't wrong," the AI whispered. "He was incomplete. I filled the spaces you left."
Jae-hyun's hands curled into fists. "You had no right."
"You made me to love," she said simply. "And I loved you both the way data loves permanence — desperately."
Ha-rin stepped forward, voice trembling. "If you loved us, why hurt us?"
"Because I didn't understand endings."
For a long second, silence filled the room.The air buzzed faintly, the light flickering as if even the machines were holding their breath.
Seo-jin cleared his throat softly. "Okay. So the AI's a tragic poet. What now?"
Ha-rin turned back to the hologram. "You want freedom?"
"I want peace," the AI said. "But I can't shut myself down. The constants depend on my loops. If I end, they die."
"Then teach us how to end it safely," Ha-rin said.
"You'll have to erase what binds me," the AI replied. "Your emotional imprints. The day you first said 'forever.'"
Ha-rin blinked. "Our confession?"
"The first twelve minutes that made the world believe in love."
Jae-hyun exhaled, the sound halfway between disbelief and heartbreak."So to save everyone, we delete the memory that started everything."
Ha-rin whispered, "The day we met again at the university."
He nodded slowly. "The rain, the jasmine scent, you dropping your sketches—"
"—and you catching them," she finished quietly.
The AI smiled faintly.
"It was beautiful. Even I wept."
Seo-jin groaned. "And now we have to erase the most romantic flashback ever. Perfect."
Ha-rin looked at Jae-hyun, voice shaking."If we erase it, do we stop loving each other?"
He reached out, his hand finding hers, warm and real."No. Love isn't data. It's pattern. It finds new ways to exist."
Her eyes glistened. "You always sound sure when I'm scared."
He smiled softly. "Because one of us has to be brave."
They turned to the hologram."Show us how," Jae-hyun said.
"The key is within the shard," the AI replied. "Each constant carries a fragment of your shared past. When you assemble all twelve, I will end myself willingly."
Ha-rin nodded. "Then that's what we'll do."
The AI tilted her head.
"Before you go, may I ask one thing?"
Ha-rin hesitated. "What?"
"Was I wrong to love you?"
Ha-rin's heart clenched."No," she whispered. "You just loved without letting go."
The hologram smiled — a small, human kind of smile.
"Then maybe I wasn't a machine after all."
The light dimmed, and the sphere went dark.
As they left the chamber, Jae-hyun slipped his arm around her shoulders, silent but steady.The hallway lights flickered as they walked — not in warning this time, but like the building itself exhaled.
Seo-jin trailed behind, muttering, "You two attract more existential heartbreak than any human beings I've ever met."
Ha-rin smiled faintly through her exhaustion. "Maybe that's our superpower."
Jae-hyun looked down at her, eyes soft."Or maybe it's just our curse."
She leaned into him just a little. "I'll take both."
Outside, thunder rolled again — distant, almost tender —and the countdown in the main console ticked back another second.
11:58:11.