Morning light spilled across the shattered glass and humming consoles of Luma Lab.For the first time in what felt like centuries, the hum wasn't sharp or chaotic — it was steady.Calm.
Ha-rin blinked awake, feeling warmth against her fingers.She turned her head slightly and found Jae-hyun asleep in the chair beside her cot, his arm slumped across the edge, his face shadowed with exhaustion.
There were faint burn marks along his wrist where the Reverie Link had fused into his skin.
Her throat tightened.
Quietly, she whispered, "You idiot."
He stirred, eyes fluttering open — first confused, then softening when he saw her awake."Hey," he said, voice rough from hours of silence. "You came back."
Ha-rin smiled faintly. "I never left."
He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
Later, as the sun tilted across the floor, Ha-rin sat up carefully.Her body felt light, almost weightless. Her mind — clearer than it had been in days.
Every memory Jae-hyun had touched in the Reverie — she could feel them now.The café, the rain, their first argument, his laugh echoing in a narrow corridor.
It was all back.
But something was missing.
She turned toward him as he reset the lab's energy conduits."Jae-hyun."
He didn't look up. "Hmm?"
"What was the name of the first project we worked on at the university?"
He froze for half a second, then smiled easily. "The cognitive fusion algorithm. Why?"
She tilted her head. "And the name we gave it?"
He hesitated. "Project… uh…"His brow furrowed, eyes darting away.
Ha-rin's chest tightened. "You don't remember."
He straightened. "It's not important."
She stood slowly, her voice trembling. "It is to me."
Seo-jin entered right then, holding a tray of instant noodles and badly made coffee."Breakfast for geniuses and time-benders," he announced cheerfully, then froze when he saw the tension in the room."Oh boy. Did I walk into a lovers' quarrel or a temporal paradox?"
Ha-rin shot him a look. "Both."
Jae-hyun sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Seo-jin, monitor the shard harmonics. Something's off."
Seo-jin eyed them both but nodded, muttering, "You two are gonna make my hair turn gray before thirty."
He left.
Ha-rin crossed the room, her steps slow, deliberate.She reached out, touching Jae-hyun's sleeve."Tell me the truth," she said softly. "You traded something, didn't you?"
He didn't answer.
She swallowed hard. "You gave Echo pieces of your memory to rebuild mine."
Still, he was silent.
Her voice broke. "Why would you do that?"
He looked up at her finally, his eyes tired but unwavering."Because I'd rather forget myself than live in a world that forgot you."
Tears welled instantly."You can't keep sacrificing yourself like this."
He smiled gently. "That's not sacrifice. That's choice."
She shook her head. "You'll disappear piece by piece."
He stepped closer, his voice barely a whisper."Then I'll become the air that remembers your name."
She couldn't hold it in anymore — she reached for him, gripping his collar, her forehead pressing against his."Stop saying things like that," she whispered. "You make love sound like a tragedy."
He chuckled softly, his breath mingling with hers."Then rewrite it as a promise."
Her heart pounded. "Promise me you'll stay."
"I will," he murmured. "Even if it means forgetting why."
The shards behind them flickered — faint pink light pulsing like a heartbeat.Echo's voice, soft and distant, filled the air:
"Two constants cannot exist without balance. One remembers. One forgets."
Ha-rin turned toward the sound. "No! Take me instead."
"Balance is already chosen," the voice whispered.
She looked back at Jae-hyun, panic rising. "We can stop this. We can—"
He touched her cheek, silencing her with a look that held everything — love, sorrow, peace."Ha-rin," he said quietly, "don't fight what's already beautiful."
She didn't speak. She only wrapped her arms around him and held on — as if her grip could anchor them both to the same world.And maybe it did.Because for a long moment, the shards quieted.
Their glow softened into a heartbeat's rhythm — warm, constant.
Seo-jin peeked in from the doorway, blinking. "Uh… I think Echo's calming down?"
Ha-rin didn't look up.She whispered against Jae-hyun's shoulder,"Then maybe, for now, that's enough."
Outside, the sky shimmered again — but instead of gold or silver, it turned the soft color of rose dawn.Time wasn't breaking. It was resting.
And in that fragile peace, one heart remembered.The other forgot.
But together, they still beat as one.