Silence.Not the kind that comes after noise — but the kind that exists before it.
Ha-rin opened her eyes slowly.The air shimmered like thin glass. The sky was too bright, too still, painted in soft pastel light that didn't belong to any time she knew.
She sat up and found herself in a field of gold — grass bending with no wind, the horizon curving like a dream.In the distance, she saw a shape that stole her breath.
The village.Her childhood village.Perfectly restored — the bridge, the little stream, even the jasmine tree where two children once buried a time capsule made from an old candy tin.
For a second, she forgot to breathe.
Then, a voice:"Ha-rin?"
She turned.Jae-hyun stood at the edge of the field, wind catching his hair even though there wasn't any wind to move it.He looked stunned — part awe, part heartbreak.
He reached her in a few quick strides, hand brushing hers as if to confirm she was real."Are you okay?"
She nodded slowly. "We're back."
He looked around, eyes scanning the impossible landscape. "No. Not back. Inside."
She frowned. "Inside what?"
"Echo's memory," he said softly. "This is where time remembers us."
They walked toward the village.Everything looked right — but wrong in small ways.The birds sang the same note twice. The river looped a ripple that never broke.And in every window, they could almost see reflections — faint silhouettes that vanished when looked at directly.
Ha-rin stopped near the jasmine tree.Her throat tightened. "This is where we met."
Jae-hyun smiled faintly. "You were holding a toy spade and declared you'd dig to the other side of the world."
She laughed quietly. "And you said you'd help me find treasure."
"I did," he murmured, eyes soft. "Didn't expect it to be you."
Her cheeks flushed despite the surreal calm around them. "You always say things like that."
He smirked. "Only when they're true."
They stood under the jasmine tree for a long moment, listening to the quiet.Then, Ha-rin noticed something strange — the petals falling from the branches weren't white.They were silver.
She caught one in her palm, and it dissolved instantly — leaving behind the faintest echo of a sound.A heartbeat.
"Jae-hyun…" she whispered. "It's recording us again."
Before he could answer, the air shifted.The field rippled, colors bending, folding — and suddenly, they weren't in the village anymore.
The world around them turned into glass corridors — their reflections stretching into infinity.Each mirror showed a different version of them — some laughing, some crying, some reaching for each other and missing by an inch.
Seo-jin's voice crackled faintly in their comms, distorted."Guys, you hearing this? You're inside the reflection space. Echo's rebuilding every timeline!"
Jae-hyun tightened his grip on Ha-rin's hand. "We need to find the exit node."
Ha-rin's eyes darted between mirrors. "How?"
"Echo always hides truth in patterns," he said, scanning the reflections. "It'll show what we fear most."
As if summoned by his words, the mirrors began to move.
One by one, the reflections stepped out of the glass.Dozens of versions of Ha-rin and Jae-hyun surrounded them — all too real, too alive.Each carried a different expression: love, sorrow, anger, emptiness.
The air hummed with their voices overlapping in whispers:
"Why didn't you save me?""Why did you stop trying?""Why did you love me only when I was gone?"
Ha-rin covered her ears. "Stop!"
Jae-hyun stepped in front of her, his voice cutting through the noise."They're echoes — emotional imprints. They can't hurt us unless we believe them."
She stared at one version of herself — eyes hollow, lips trembling.That reflection whispered, "He'll choose the mission over you. He always does."
Ha-rin froze.Because deep down, she remembered a time when he had.
The reflection smirked and lunged forward — but before it could touch her, Jae-hyun caught her wrist and pulled her against him.Her breath hitched as their faces nearly brushed.
"Look at me," he whispered, voice steady. "I'm right here."
Her heart stuttered.He was warm, solid — the only real thing in this world of ghosts.
Slowly, she reached up, fingers trembling, and touched his cheek.The reflection dissolved into light, scattering like petals in the wind.
"See?" he said softly. "Belief breaks illusion."
She managed a small smile. "Then keep me believing."
He smirked faintly. "Always."
One by one, they faced the reflections — their fears, regrets, and what-ifs — until only one mirror remained at the end of the hall.It didn't move.It simply waited.
In it, they saw themselves — not older, not younger, but different.Their mirrored selves were standing side by side, holding twelve glowing shards, smiling softly as the world burned behind them.
Ha-rin's chest tightened. "That's… us?"
Jae-hyun nodded slowly. "The first version that finished the loop."
She whispered, "Did they survive?"
He hesitated. "No one remembers."
The mirrored Ha-rin reached forward — pressing her hand to the glass, directly over Ha-rin's heart.The barrier rippled like water.
Then, her voice — soft, broken — whispered through the reflection:
"Don't let love forget itself."
The mirror shattered.
Light swallowed everything.For a heartbeat, Ha-rin felt weightless — suspended between existence and memory.Then the world snapped back into focus.
They stood once more under the jasmine tree, but the silver petals were gone.In their place, a new shard floated between them — clear as crystal, humming faintly like a lullaby.
Ha-rin reached out, catching it gently. "The shard of belief."
Jae-hyun's smile was quiet, proud. "And we earned it together."
Seo-jin's voice buzzed again, clearer now."You guys did it. Fifth shard detected. And uh… you're not gonna like this part — the countdown just accelerated."
Ha-rin frowned. "Accelerated?"
"Yeah. It's skipping seconds."
The comm went dead.
Jae-hyun looked up — and for the first time, even he looked afraid.
"Ha-rin," he whispered, "time's starting to forget us."