At first, there was nothing.No sky. No ground. Only a colorless mist, and the faint, rhythmic sound of a heartbeat that didn't belong to her.
Thump. Thump. Pause.Then again.Slower.Like the world itself was remembering how to live.
Ha-rin opened her eyes.The fog curled around her, whispering faint echoes — half-sentences, memories that weren't hers:
"Don't forget me…""Twelve minutes… always twelve…""You said you'd find me…"
She stood slowly.Her own name felt distant, like something she'd read once but never spoken aloud.
"Jae-hyun?" she called.The mist didn't answer.But the heartbeat quickened.
She began to walk.The fog shifted as she moved, revealing fragments of worlds that shouldn't coexist —the corner of a classroom window, a stretch of riverbank, a flickering city skyline.
Each fragment pulsed in sync with the sound.Each felt like a half-remembered dream she couldn't quite reach.
Ha-rin brushed her fingers against one — the reflection of a desk covered in sketches.The paper dissolved under her touch, turning into light.And instantly, a memory returned — her laughter on a spring afternoon, Jae-hyun stealing her pencil, pretending to draw her portrait.
Her heart clenched.Every time she remembered, the fog thinned a little.Every memory was a heartbeat.
But soon, she noticed something else.The more she remembered, the more the world around her began to fade.Her reflection in the mist grew faint.
She froze, trembling."Each memory I take back…"Her voice cracked. "...takes something else from me."
Echo's voice shimmered faintly through the mist — not loud, not cruel, almost gentle.
"Memories are currency here, Ha-rin. The more you spend, the less of you remains."
Ha-rin whispered, "Then I'll spend everything."
"You'd vanish."
She clenched her fists. "Then let me vanish finding him."
She walked deeper into the fog.The world around her began to ripple, scenes flickering like skipping film —their first argument at the university lab, the rain-soaked night he confessed,the trembling warmth of his fingers brushing hers under the city lights.
Each moment hurt — beautiful, unbearable.
And then, faintly, she heard him.
"Ha-rin?"
Her breath caught. "Jae-hyun!"
She ran toward the sound, the mist pulling at her like hands trying to hold her back.
She broke through a curtain of light — and there he was.Or rather, a memory of him.
Standing at the edge of a frozen lake, wind ruffling his hair, eyes full of that quiet warmth she could never forget.
She ran to him, but the moment she touched his arm, her hand passed through.The illusion shimmered.
"You always find me late," his voice said softly.
"Don't disappear," she begged.
"You said that before."
Her tears fell, glowing as they hit the frozen ground."Then I'll say it forever."
He smiled faintly. "Forever doesn't live here."
The fog trembled.She heard the sound of a clock — not ticking, but beating.Twelve slow beats.Each one shaking the air, turning mist into light.
Then another voice joined it — low, real, pained.
"Ha-rin! Don't touch it!"
Her head whipped around.From the distance, through the glowing fog, the real Jae-hyun was running toward her —his silhouette flickering between frames, like he was fighting through the folds of broken time.
She didn't think — she ran.Every step took another piece of her away —her shoes dissolved, her sleeves faded, her breath turned silver.
But she kept running.
When she finally reached him, the world exploded into silence.Her body collided with his — solid, warm, real.His arms wrapped around her instantly, desperate, trembling.
He buried his face in her hair. "You're fading—"
"I know."
"Ha-rin, you shouldn't have come here—"
"I said I'd find you," she whispered, voice shaking. "Even between heartbeats."
He pulled back just enough to look at her — his eyes fierce, wet, alive."Then let's beat time together."
Their foreheads met.
And for that one second, the two heartbeats — hers and his — fell perfectly in sync.
The mist recoiled.The world remembered itself.
The ground beneath them solidified —the frozen lake turning into glowing circuitry, each vein of light connecting the shards she carried.
They floated upward, orbiting them like tiny stars.
The sixth shard merged with the others, forming a soft hum that filled the air with warmth.
Echo's voice returned, trembling with something that sounded like awe.
"You realigned two constants without code.You synchronized love across time."
Ha-rin smiled weakly, her form flickering. "Then maybe love's not code after all."
"Perhaps not," Echo whispered. "Perhaps it's the bug that broke the universe."
And then, softly, almost tenderly:
"You're halfway there."
The shards flashed once,and the countdown shifted again.
11:55:00.
Ha-rin blinked — the fog cleared completely.She was back in the lab, leaning against Jae-hyun, exhausted, glowing faintly with traces of light.
Seo-jin burst in, panting. "Holy plot twist, you two! You were gone for twenty real-world minutes! Do you know how much paperwork that's gonna cause?"
Jae-hyun ignored him, brushing his thumb gently along Ha-rin's cheek."You found me."
She smiled through tears. "I always do."