It began quietly.So quietly that Ha-rin almost didn't notice.
First, it was a name she forgot.A technician's face from the office café, someone she'd greeted every morning with a smile — suddenly, there was only a blur where their voice should've been.Then, later that day, she reached for a folder and found herself staring at the label, unable to remember why she had written it in her own handwriting.
At first, she blamed exhaustion.But deep down, she knew.The hum behind her ribs — that soft, rhythmic pulse that had synchronized with the shards — was too steady, too mechanical.
It wasn't her heartbeat anymore.
In the lab, the evening light poured like melted gold through the windows.Jae-hyun was calibrating the shard stabilizer, a faint crease between his brows — the same look he always had when he was trying to control chaos.
Ha-rin leaned against the table, pretending to read the data feed on his tablet.After a few moments, she said, softly,"Jae-hyun… what if Echo isn't fixing time anymore?"
He looked up, startled by the tone of her voice. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated. "What if it's… feeding on it?"
He straightened, eyes narrowing. "Explain."
Ha-rin lifted her hand to her temple, fingers trembling."I keep forgetting small things — faces, dates, words. It's like my memories are dissolving one by one."
He set the tablet down instantly and moved closer. "You should've told me sooner."
Her smile was small, tired. "Would it have helped?"
Jae-hyun touched the side of her head gently, scanning for cognitive anomalies with the wristband monitor.A faint pattern appeared on the display — identical to the resonance field's rhythm.
His voice dropped to a whisper. "It's the synchronization."
Ha-rin's heart sank. "So it's real."
He nodded grimly. "Echo's stabilizing this world by using your emotional memory as an anchor. You're not losing them randomly — it's taking the parts that make you human because that's what's holding reality together."
Ha-rin's breath shook. "So every time I remember something beautiful… it disappears from me to stay in the world?"
"Yes," he said, the word cracking like glass. "You're becoming the memory that keeps it alive."
For a long time, neither of them spoke.Outside, the light dimmed.The golden sky turned to violet — the color of half-remembered dreams.
Ha-rin broke the silence first."Do you think love still counts if one of us forgets?"
Jae-hyun's hands were trembling when he reached for hers.He laced their fingers together, forcing himself to meet her eyes."It counts more. Because remembering is easy. Staying when memory fails — that's the real promise."
Her eyes filled, but she smiled anyway."Then promise me one thing."
"Anything."
"If I forget who you are… don't remind me. Make me fall in love with you again."
He let out a quiet, broken laugh. "You'd do it anyway."
Seo-jin appeared in the doorway, holding a stack of diagnostics."Okay, hate to interrupt your tragic vows, but we have a problem."
Jae-hyun looked up sharply. "What now?"
Seo-jin tossed a datapad onto the table."The shards are mimicking Ha-rin's neural signature. Each time she forgets something, they hum louder. The system's literally recording her feelings."
Ha-rin stepped closer, eyes wide. "Then… it's learning my heart?"
Seo-jin nodded uneasily. "Or replacing it."
Jae-hyun turned away, jaw tight. "We're pulling you out of the synchronization field tonight."
Ha-rin shook her head instantly. "No."
"Ha-rin—"
"If we stop now, the timeline collapses. Everything we've done, everything we've saved—it all disappears."
He gritted his teeth. "And what happens when you disappear instead?"
Her smile was heartbreakingly gentle."Then at least you'll remember me long enough to save the world."
The hum deepened again — no longer mechanical, almost like a lullaby.Ha-rin swayed slightly, her eyes fluttering closed.
Jae-hyun caught her before she fell.Her pulse was faint, but steady — too steady, too perfect.
He whispered against her hair, voice raw,"Stay with me. Please."
For a second, her lips curved into a smile, and she whispered something so soft he barely heard it.
"Even if I forget you, my heart won't."
And then the hum filled the room — louder, stronger, endless.
The shards rose from the table, glowing brighter than ever.Each one pulsed in the same rhythm as Ha-rin's heart.Each one whispered her name.
Ha-rin. Ha-rin. Ha-rin.