Rain had returned to Luma City, not in storm or fury, but as a soft, rhythmic drizzle — the kind that blurs edges and hides time behind mist.The city's reflections glimmered faintly on the wet streets as Ha-rin, Jae-hyun, and Seo-jin crossed through the old district, following a faint signal flickering on their handheld tracker.
The screen pulsed slowly.A tiny icon shaped like a steaming cup blinked beside the coordinates.
Seo-jin squinted. "Wait, you're telling me our next apocalyptic clue is… a coffee shop?"
Ha-rin's lips curved faintly. "Maybe Echo developed taste."
Jae-hyun's gaze was sharp as ever, scanning their surroundings. "Or maybe it learned to hide where humans feel safe."
The café stood at the end of a narrow alley, a quaint place with pale wooden shutters and a hand-painted sign:"Café Déjà Brew."
Ha-rin's breath hitched. "Déjà Brew?"
Seo-jin grinned. "Oh, come on, that's adorable."
Jae-hyun didn't smile. "Déjà vu."
He pushed the door open.A small bell chimed — delicate, nostalgic — and instantly, the world felt off.
Not wrong.Just… slower.
The air was warmer here, heavy with the smell of roasted beans, sugar, and faint jasmine.
Ha-rin frowned. "Do you feel that?"
Jae-hyun checked his watch. "Eleven fifty-seven."
Seo-jin checked his. "Eleven forty-five."
They all looked up at each other.
The café clock above the counter ticked twelve minutes behind.
Only one other person was inside — a young barista wiping down the counter, humming softly.When she looked up, her eyes gleamed an impossible shade of amber, just like the shard in Ha-rin's pocket.
"Welcome," she said warmly. "You're right on time."
Ha-rin froze.Jae-hyun stepped slightly in front of her, instinctively protective."How did you know we were coming?"
The barista smiled, setting the cloth aside. "You always come. Every loop. Every version of you orders the same thing."
Seo-jin's voice cracked. "Uh… the same thing?"
The girl nodded. "Two americanos, one caramel latte. You never stay long, though. Twelve minutes, give or take."
Jae-hyun's tone was calm, but his eyes were sharp. "Who are you?"
She looked at him for a long moment, then tilted her head."I used to be a memory. Now I'm what's left when people forget."
Ha-rin whispered, "You're one of them. Constant Five."
The girl smiled faintly. "They called me Aera once. You used to come here before everything began. You laughed a lot back then."
Ha-rin frowned. "Before Echo?"
Aera nodded. "You met here. For the first time after the village. You spilled coffee. He smiled like time could start over."
Ha-rin blinked rapidly. "That's impossible… that memory isn't recorded anywhere."
Aera's gaze softened. "Because I kept it."
Seo-jin stepped back, whispering, "So this café is like… a time bubble?"
Aera smiled faintly. "Something like that. It runs twelve minutes behind the rest of the world. The moment you entered, the countdown outside slowed. You're safe here — for now."
Jae-hyun's expression darkened. "Safe, or delayed?"
"Both," she said simply.
Ha-rin stepped closer, heart hammering. "Aera… if you kept that memory, can you show it to me?"
The girl hesitated, then nodded.She reached for Ha-rin's wrist — warm fingers, human touch — and suddenly, the café shimmered.
The world around them shifted.The hum of the coffee machine faded into birdsong.Morning sunlight spilled through wide windows, not gray neon.
Ha-rin gasped.They were back — not in Luma City, but in the university café where it had all begun years ago.Younger versions of themselves sat by the window — Ha-rin with ink-stained hands, Jae-hyun laughing softly as he cleaned spilled coffee off his notebook.
The younger Ha-rin was pouting. "You were supposed to catch the cup."
He grinned. "You were supposed to hold it properly."
"I did!"
"You didn't."
"You're impossible."
He leaned closer. "And you're fascinating."
The scene froze mid-laughter.Ha-rin reached out to touch her younger self's face — warm, alive, real.
Tears slipped down her cheeks. "That day… I didn't even realize it was the start."
Aera's voice echoed softly beside her. "You remember now?"
Ha-rin nodded slowly. "Yes. I remember the smell. The sunlight. The way he looked at me like the world was new."
Aera smiled faintly. "That's your shard."
The vision faded.
Back in the café, the air shimmered once and settled.Ha-rin was crying quietly.Jae-hyun reached for her hand — gently, wordlessly — and she didn't pull away.
Seo-jin sniffed. "I'm not crying. You're crying."
Aera smiled sadly. "You always leave after this. The loop resets when the clock reaches midnight."
Jae-hyun asked, "And if we stay?"
Her eyes darkened. "Then it erases you."
Ha-rin squeezed his hand. "We can't stay."
He nodded reluctantly.
As they turned to leave, Aera called softly, "Ha-rin."
Ha-rin paused.
"If love really survives across timelines," Aera said, "then let me believe in it, too."
Ha-rin smiled through her tears. "You're proof it does."
The bell above the door chimed as they stepped out into the rain.
Behind them, the café shimmered once — then blinked out like a mirage.Only the faint scent of coffee and jasmine remained.
Ha-rin looked down. In her palm, a new shard glowed faintly — deep brown with gold veins swirling through it.
Jae-hyun looked at her quietly. "You okay?"
She nodded. "She kept our beginning safe. Now it's our turn to save the end."
The countdown in her wrist comm blinked once more.
11:56:03.