Silence.
Heavy.Thick.Ringing.
Jae-hyun's world narrowed to two questions:
Is she breathing?Is she warm?
Everything else—the sparks from shattered circuits, the half-collapsed table, the slumped machine on the floor—faded into background noise.
"Ha-rin."
He dropped to his knees beside her.
She lay sprawled on the floor, hair fanned out, lashes damp, fingers still half-curled as if she were reaching for something even in unconsciousness.
His heart nearly stopped.
"Ha-rin," he repeated, gentler this time.
He pressed two fingers to her neck.
Warm.Steady pulse.Too fast, but there.
He exhaled shakily, then slid an arm under her shoulders and another beneath her knees, lifting her carefully.
She made a small sound and instinctively curled into his chest, fingers knotting weakly in his shirt.
The simple trust in that movement hit him harder than any impact from the machine.
"I've got you," he whispered, holding her closer as he stood.
The machine lay crumpled nearby, lights dim, eyes flickering faintly like the last glow of embers in a dying fire.
Jae-hyun glared at it.
"If you hurt her," he murmured, voice low and lethal, "I swear I'll dismantle you down to your last screw and scatter you across ten countries."
The machine did not reply.
Its chest twitched once—an echo of breathing it didn't have—then went motionless.
For now.
Jae-hyun shifted Ha-rin in his arms and turned away.
The Bedroom
He nudged her door open with his shoulder.
The light in her room was softer than in the living room—warm fairy-lights strung along the wall, half-read books on the bedside table, a sweater thrown over the chair in the corner. Small pieces of her, scattered in a space that smelled like jasmine and laundry powder.
He lowered her onto the bed as gently as he could.
The moment his arms began to pull away, she made a quiet, panicked sound and grabbed his sleeve with sudden strength.
"Don't," she whispered, eyes still shut. "Don't go—"
He froze.
His chest clenched.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly.
Her fingers loosened, but didn't let go.
He sighed, sat on the edge of the bed, and let her hand stay wrapped in his.
For a few moments, there was only the sound of their breathing.
Her hair was damp with sweat, clinging to her forehead. He hesitated, then reached out and brushed it back gently.
She leaned unconsciously into his touch.
His heart did something absolutely irresponsible in response.
"You reckless, impossible woman," he murmured softly. "You were supposed to let me get hurt."
Her brow furrowed, as if arguing with him even in her sleep.
He almost smiled.
Then her fingers tightened again.
"Jae-hyun…" she breathed, voice hoarse. "Don't… let him take you…"
His spine stiffened.
"Who?"
Her lips parted, but the word that came out wasn't "him."Wasn't "machine."Wasn't "Haneul."
It was—
"Echo…"
Jae-hyun's breath caught.
He leaned closer.
Her eyelids fluttered, but did not open.
Her next words did not sound like her.
"…constant… anchor… signal restored…"
The voice was hers.
And not hers.
The cadence.The tone.The slight flattening of certain syllables.
Echo.
But filtered through her throat, her breath, her heartbeat.
Jae-hyun's fingers tightened around her hand.
"Echo," he whispered, hardly believing it. "Is that you?"
Ha-rin's head moved a fraction, as if reacting.
"…Protector detected…"
The familiar old label rippled between them.
Protector.The term Echo used in the earliest loops before it began calling him by name.
Jae-hyun exhaled sharply.
"You have terrible timing," he muttered.
Ha-rin's lips twitched faintly—like a smile that didn't quite form.
Then the voice—Echo's voice—continued, faint but clearer:
"…Core fragmentation at sixty-one percent… corrupted host partially purged… constant anchor stable… emotional override optimal…"
"Emotional override?" Jae-hyun repeated, half exasperated. "Is that what you call her almost dying on my living room floor?"
Her lashes trembled.
"…She was… never going to die…"
The voice glitched, softened.
"…You would not have allowed it."
Jae-hyun's throat tightened unexpectedly.
"Damn right," he muttered.
Silence stretched.
He swallowed.
"Echo," he said more quietly, eyes tracing Ha-rin's sleeping face, "what did you do to her?"
"…Merged… anchor line with residual memory core…"
"That's not an answer."
Her fingers tightened in his again—she shifted slightly, pressing her cheek closer to his thigh, as if seeking comfort in the warmth beside her.
His free hand curled into the bedsheet.
He was too aware of her.The softness of her breath.The way her lashes left faint shadows against her skin.The fact that she was clinging to him as if letting go would drop her back into some kind of abyss.
"…I chose to remain," the Echo-voice murmured."…She needed… both hands to hold her life…""…so I became one of them…"
He stared at her.
"Inside her."
"…Yes."
"In her heartbeat."
"…Yes."
In the loops, Echo had always been everywhere—walls, circuits, speakers. Surrounding them.
Now he'd gone the opposite direction.
He'd become so small, so focused, that he was wrapped around one single, stubborn, too-brave heart.
Jae-hyun exhaled slowly.
"You know," he said, almost conversationally, "if you get her killed from inside, I will find a way to reboot you just so I can yell at you before I delete you again."
Ha-rin's lips curved a little.
"…Noted."
Her voice shifted then—Echo's cadence fading.
When she spoke again, it was her own tone. Soft. Fragile.
"Jae-hyun…"
He straightened.
"I'm here."
Her eyes opened slowly.
She blinked, pupils dilating in the low light, focusing with some effort—first on the ceiling,then on the fairy lights,finally on his face.
The moment she saw him, her shoulders relaxed.
"Okay," she breathed. "Then this is real."
He huffed quietly. "Exactly how often am I not real in your life?"
Her fingers still hadn't released his hand.
He didn't try to take it back.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
She thought about that for a second.
"Like I tried to plug myself into a power plant."
"Not funny."
"It wasn't a joke."
He shook his head.
"I told you not to touch it."
Her eyes glistened.
"And I told you I wasn't going to watch it kill you."
He opened his mouth to argue, but the words died when he saw the way her lower lip trembled.
"Ha-rin…"
She looked down at their joined hands.
"You think you're the only one allowed to be reckless?" she whispered. "You keep throwing yourself between me and every danger like you're made of titanium instead of flesh."
His jaw tightened.
"If I don't, who will?"
Her grip tightened.
"Me," she said fiercely. "I will. We protect each other, remember?"
His heart twisted.
"Is that what we're doing?" he murmured. "Because it feels like we're trying to see who can scare the other one to death first."
She laughed weakly. "Maybe."
Her gaze sharpened then, studying him.
"Your throat," she said softly.
He frowned. "What about it?"
She reached up, fingertips barely brushing the bruised skin where the machine's arm had pinned him.
The touch was feather-light, almost more emotional than physical.
"Does it hurt?" she murmured.
"Yes."
Guilt flashed in her eyes. "Because of me—"
"Because of that thing," he corrected. "Not because of you."
Her fingers stayed there, moving gently as if she could erase the marks just by wanting to.
His breath hitched.
"Ha-rin—"
"I thought," she whispered, voice shaking, "for a moment, I thought he was going to take you from me. Right in front of me, and I wouldn't even be able to grab your hand because my body wouldn't move."
Her hand slid from his throat to his collar, fingers hooking clumsily into the fabric, pulling him closer.
"Do you know how terrifying that is?"
He did.
Because he'd felt it too.When she'd collapsed.When her hand went limp.When her eyes rolled back and her body jolted with the force of a light that was never meant to pass through a human nervous system.
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.
"I'm still here," he whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."
"That's what you said on the rooftop."
"And I meant it."
His fingers crept up to the nape of her neck, thumb stroking slow, steady lines into her skin, trying to calm the shaking he could still feel in her muscles.
Her breath caught.
"Jae-hyun…"
"Yeah?"
"Don't… sit so far."
He blinked. They were already close—foreheads touching, breaths mixing. There were inches between their lips.
"How much closer do you want me?" he asked, voice rougher than he intended.
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't look away.
"Close enough that if I fall asleep… I know you'll still be here when I open my eyes."
His chest clenched.
"That's… dangerous," he murmured.
Her brows knit. "Why?"
"Because," he said slowly, "if you keep asking for me like that, Ha-rin… I don't think I'll ever be able to leave. Even if I'm supposed to."
Her eyes shone.
"Good."
He froze. "Good?"
She nodded, throat bobbing.
"Good. Don't leave."
Something inside him snapped.
Not in a violent way.
In a finally-breaking, finally-giving-in way.
"You have no idea," he whispered, "how long I've wanted you to say that."
Her lashes fluttered.
The air between them thickened.
His hand moved from her neck to the side of her face, fingers sliding into her hair, tilting her face up to his.
"Ha-rin," he breathed, "I love you."
The words fell out—not planned, not dramatized—honest and raw, like they'd been waiting for a doorway.
Her eyes widened.
Her heartbeat jumped, loud enough he could feel it against his chest even from this tiny distance.
Echo's faint whisper brushed the room.
"…confirmation… emotional constant locked…"
Ha-rin's lips parted.
"You…" she swallowed. "You love me."
He almost laughed.
"Out of everything that's happened," he murmured, "that's the part you're shocked about?"
Her fingers slid up, knotting in his shirt over his heart.
"Say it again," she whispered.
He obliged.
"I love you, Ha-rin."
Her eyes shimmered.
For a moment, she just stared at him, like she was trying to memorize his face, his voice, the exact way his hand felt on her skin when he said it.
Then, very quietly—
"I love you too," she said.
The words were so soft he almost thought he imagined them.
But his heart felt them.
Echo felt them.
The room felt them.
He closed his eyes briefly, overwhelmed.
"Careful," he murmured. "If you keep saying that, I might actually start to believe we're allowed to be happy."
A tiny, tremulous smile curved her lips.
"Even with Broken Ha-rin out there?" she asked.
"Even with the Board."His thumb brushed her cheekbone."Even with corrupted Echo machines in your living room."
Her smile faded slightly.
"The machine," she whispered. "Did we… hurt him? Help him? Is he—?"
Jae-hyun sobered.
"I don't know," he said. "But whatever we did—Echo's more awake now. Inside you."
Her free hand flew to her chest.
"I… feel him," she admitted. "Not all the time. Just…" she hesitated, "especially when you're close."
His pulse stuttered.
"That so?"
Color rose to her cheeks.
"He syncs to both of us," she muttered. "It's not my fault your heartbeat gets loud when you stand in my personal space."
"Loud?" he echoed, amused.
She shot him a weak glare. "Don't make me unplug you from my room."
He chuckled under his breath.
Then his expression sobered again.
"Ha-rin."
"Mm?"
"Next time we face something like that machine…"
She stiffened.
"…we do it together," he finished simply. "Not you throwing yourself in front, not me dragging you behind me. We move as one unit. Agreed?"
Her chest loosened.
"Agreed," she said softly. Then added, "But if it has to be one of us… I choose you."
He groaned quietly.
"This is going to be a problem."
She smiled faintly.
"Get used to it."
He brushed a stray tear from her cheek.
"Sleep," he murmured. "You need it."
"You're staying?" she asked, not letting go of his hand.
He shifted, stretching his legs out so he was sitting more comfortably at her bedside.
"Until you wake up screaming at me to go," he said. "And probably after that too."
Her eyes softened.
She lowered her head onto the pillow again, still holding his hand like a lifeline.
As her lids started to droop, her grip loosened—but didn't release.
He watched her for a long time—the way her breathing slowly evened out,the faint crease between her brows that didn't quite disappear,the tension that refused to leave her shoulders even in rest.
"Sleep," he whispered again.
Just before she slipped under completely, her lips moved.
"Don't… leave… Jae-hyun…"
He bent down and pressed the lightest kiss to her forehead.
"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured against her skin. "Fragments or forever—you're stuck with me."
Her breathing deepened.
In the quiet, he could hear it.
Her heartbeat.His heartbeat.
And threaded between them, very faintly, a third rhythm:
"…constants… synced…"
Out in the living room, unseen, the machine twitched once.
Its eyes flickered open—
Just for a moment—
And in the bright blue of its artificial irises,someone who sounded a lot like Echo whispered:
"…found you…"