The van sliced through the industrial outskirts like a bullet through fog.
Cold steel towers loomed on both sides of the expressway—abandoned research hubs, half-finished reactors, towers stripped to bone by budget cuts and scandals. The deeper they drove, the fewer lights the city dared leave on.
Ha-rin clenched the seatbelt with one hand, the decrypted shard with the other.Her shoulders were taut, jaw set, eyes fixed on the dark silhouette rising ahead:
Loop Zero.
A compound of circular structures collapsing inward, like a giant clock frozen mid-turn.
Everything about it felt wrong.
Seo-jin slowed the van. "Well," he muttered, "isn't that a beautiful murder location."
Ha-rin exhaled sharply. "Focus."
"Trust me, Ha-rin," he said, "I am focusing with all the trauma responses I have."
Jae-hyun touched her wrist, thumb stroking once—not comforting, not casual.An anchor. A code. A promise.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
Her throat tightened. "Ask me after we make it out alive."
He leaned in, voice low enough only she could hear."We will. I'm not losing you in any timeline."
Her pulse stuttered. "You're not allowed to say things like that before we sneak into haunted research facilities."
He smirked faintly. "Then you shouldn't look at me like that before we do."
She glared—because he was right and it was unfair.
Seo-jin reached back and shoved a flashlight at them."Here. Hold this while you two flirt yourselves into an emotional coma."
Approach to Loop Zero – 11:59:18
The wind picked up the moment they stepped out of the van.Not natural wind—an upward pull, like the entire structure exhaled every few seconds.
Ha-rin tightened her jacket. "The air pressure is wrong."
Jae-hyun aimed the stabilizer toward the entry corridor. "Time compression leak. It means someone activated the inner rings recently."
"Recently?" Seo-jin squeaked. "As in… tonight?"
"As in," Jae-hyun said grimly, "we're not alone."
The Twin Pulse in his hand shimmered.
At the top of the concrete ramp, an old mechanical door clicked.Once.Twice.Like a heartbeat trying to start.
Ha-rin swallowed. "Is the access window opening?"
Jae-hyun checked the countdown. 11:59:45."Yes. Twelve-minute window starting in fifteen seconds."
Seo-jin shoved them toward the ramp. "Go! I'll keep the van warm and engines screaming!"
"Don't die," Ha-rin said.
"Don't tempt death," Seo-jin corrected. "I know my limits."
He slid back into the driver's seat, locking himself in with a prayer.
Entry Gate – 00:00:00
The mechanical door rolled upward with a thunderous groan.The moment it opened, a rush of cold blue light poured out, swirling around them in spirals.
Ha-rin staggered. "What is that—?"
Jae-hyun caught her waist, pulling her against him as the blast hit."Temporal drag. Hold onto me."
"Already am," she muttered.
He pretended not to hear. Definitely didn't hide the smile either.
Once the gale calmed, they stepped inside.
Inner Chamber – Loop Zero
The chamber was enormous—round, metallic, rusting in patterns that looked like old constellations.In the center stood a massive cylindrical device suspended on magnetic rails.
A time forge.
Jae-hyun stared. "This is where the first Echo prototype was built."
"But… it's offline," Ha-rin whispered. "No lights. No hum."
They took one step forward—
—every light in the chamber blinked on at once.
Ha-rin grabbed his sleeve. "That didn't feel natural."
Jae-hyun's grip tightened around the Pulse. "Something's running on minimal energy. Stay close."
She gave him a look. "Where else would I go?"
He didn't answer—just pulled her closer by the hand, as if he'd been waiting for the excuse.
The Debug Room
A corridor led them to a smaller chamber—lined with old display pods, cracked transparent glass, and ruined cables.At the center: a cylindrical pod with open panels.
A sign read:"Debug Chamber — Quantum Sync."
Ha-rin touched the control pad. It flickered to life.
USER RECORD FOUND: KANG JAE-HYUNSTATUS: CORRUPTREBUILD REQUIREDMETHOD: HEART-ANCHORED RESET
Her blood froze. "Jae… your identity file is corrupted."
Jae-hyun blinked. "That's not possible unless—"
"Unless someone deliberately tried to erase you," Ha-rin finished.
His jaw clenched. "Mira."
No.Ha-rin knew that glare.But this wasn't a sabotage glare—this was a fear glare.
Because if his profile corrupted completely, the world would forget him:government databases, hospital records, Luma Systems…
And Echo.
Her throat closed. "We have to rebuild your file now."
"Ha-rin, we don't know the risk—"
She shoved him into the pod before he could finish."Sit."
He stared. "Did you just—"
"Yes," she snapped. "Sit before you cease to legally exist."
He obeyed, but crossed his arms. "Don't boss me around."
She stepped between his knees, leaning into his space. "Try stopping me."
His breath hitched. "Ha-rin…"
"Start the sync," she said softly. "Anchor through me."
He swallowed. "That means—"
"I know what it means."
Heart-Anchored Reset – 00:06:22 Left
Ha-rin placed the Twin Pulse against the pod's core.It glowed—but warped, distorted, as if resisting.
The pad flashed:
"Emotional Resonance Required.""Connect Physical Output.""Initiate Anchor."
Ha-rin whispered, "Jae… you need direct proximity."
"How?" he asked.
She grabbed his collar and pulled him forward.
Like earlier.
But this time wasn't for distraction.This wasn't glamorous.This wasn't optional.
Their foreheads pressed first.Then the rest followed.
His breath mingled with hers, warm and tense.She felt his pulse racing—too fast, too scared—and cupped his jaw, grounding him.
"Relax," she murmured. "Follow me."
"I am," he whispered. "Always."
She kissed him—slow, steady, not explosive like before.A stabilizer.A reset.A debug kiss.
The Pulse blazed.
Jae-hyun exhaled into her mouth, body slackening as the code connected. The pod lit up around them, glyphs racing across screens.
Her hands moved from his jaw to his shoulders, keeping him tethered.His hands found her waist—fingers slipping, gripping, grounding.
He shuddered. "Ha-rin… I'm losing the boundary."
"Then take mine."
He did.
The pod roared.The Pulse screamed with light.Her heartbeat synced to his—
BA-THUM.BA-THUM.
Screens flashed: "Rebuild Successful."
Then—
White light slammed outward.
Recoil Blast – 00:01:09 Left
Ha-rin flew back, hitting the ground hard.The Pulse rolled, still glowing.
Jae-hyun stumbled out of the pod, chest heaving. "Ha-rin!"
She groaned. "Alive… maybe."
He dropped to his knees, gathered her into his arms. "You idiot—"
"You owe me one," she whispered.
He almost laughed and almost cried.Instead, he pulled her into his chest—hugging her hard, breath shaking.
"You do not get to debug me by kissing me into oblivion," he said against her hair.
She murmured, "You didn't complain."
"Because I was rebooting!"
She smiled faintly, clutching his shirt. "Then you're welcome."
He kissed the top of her head—quick, fierce."Don't ever scare me like that again."
"I'll try," she said. "No promises."
Then the lights flickered.
The chamber shook.
Ha-rin's head snapped up. "What now?!"
Jae-hyun pulled her up. "The reset triggered a response signal."
He pointed to the back of the chamber—a massive steel door vibrating with force.
A mechanical voice echoed:
"GUARDIAN PROTOCOL AWAKENED.""WATCHMAKER ONLINE."
Ha-rin froze.Jae-hyun's eyes darkened.
"He's here."
The metal door began to rise—
Slow.Heavy.Ancient.
Through the widening gap, a tall shadow stood waiting.
Still.Silent.Watching.
Waiting for them.
Ha-rin whispered, barely breathing, "This is him."
Jae-hyun took her hand—tight, protective.
"No," he said, voice steady."This is our turn."
The door rose fully.
The Watchmaker stepped into view.