The elevator ride down felt like a countdown.
Each floor number that blinked past—181716—
felt like a second slipping away from the fragile, stolen peace Ha-rin had had in that apartment with Jae-hyun.
Her fingers were locked with his.
She didn't remember when she'd grabbed his hand exactly—only that somewhere between Broken Ha-rin's vanishing and Mira's instructions, they'd just… stayed connected.
Jae-hyun's thumb stroked the side of her hand in slow, grounding circles.
"You're too quiet," he said softly, watching the numbers descend.
"You prefer when I'm screaming?" she muttered.
He huffed. "I prefer when you're arguing with the universe instead of folding in on yourself."
She looked up at his reflection in the elevator's metallic door.
He looked tired.Focused.Dangerous.
But his eyes softened when they met hers.
"You holding up?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"…I'm scared," she admitted. "But I don't want that to be the only thing I am."
His fingers squeezed hers.
"Then be scared and stubborn. You're good at that combination."
Her lips twitched despite the tension.
Echo pulsed softly inside her, like a third heartbeat keeping tempo with theirs.
"…protector close… anchor responsive… environment unstable…"
"You can feel the building?" she whispered in her mind.
"…yes… time echoes… somewhere below…"
"Below…?"
The elevator chimed.
They reached the ground floor.
Jae-hyun's fingers tightened around hers as the doors slid open.
"Ready?" he murmured.
"No," she said honestly. "But let's go anyway."
The Lobby
The night-shift security guard at the front desk glanced up, surprise flickering across his face when he saw them together.
"President Jin?" he stammered. "You're still here this late—?"
"System checks," Jae-hyun said smoothly, his corporate mask sliding back on as if it had never cracked. "We're heading out now. Has anyone been in or out in the last half hour?"
The guard blinked at the sudden question.
"N-no, sir. Just the cleaning staff earlier. No visitors logged."
Jae-hyun nodded once.
"Good."His hand slid to the small of Ha-rin's back again, guiding her gently toward the glass doors. "If anyone asks, we left an hour ago."
The guard looked confused.
"But—"
Jae-hyun turned that faint, polite CEO smile on him.
The one that meant: don't argue.
The guard swallowed. "Understood, sir."
Ha-rin exhaled as the sliding doors opened and the cool night air hit her face.
"Do you always lie that smoothly?" she asked.
"Only when necessary," he replied. "Tonight, it's necessary."
The city outside wasn't asleep.
Neon signs hummed.Cars passed in bursts.Streetlights bled halos onto wet asphalt, as if it had rained recently—but Ha-rin didn't remember hearing any.
"…time echoes…" Echo whispered again inside her.
"Where?" she thought back.
"…all around… echo patterns… recent distortions…"
Her skin prickled.
Jae-hyun's sleek black car unlocked with a soft beep.
He opened the passenger door for her.
She hesitated, glancing at the street, the building, the sky, almost expecting Broken Ha-rin to step out from a reflection.
"Ha-rin."
His voice brought her back.
She turned.
He was watching her from across the car roof, his hand resting on the door handle.
"You're safe with me," he said quietly.
Something in her chest loosened.
She nodded and slid into the seat.
He shut the door and moved around to the driver's side.
By the time he settled in and started the engine, her hand had already found its way to his sleeve.
He glanced at it, then at her, one corner of his mouth lifting just slightly.
"Seatbelt," he said.
She clicked it into place one-handed, not letting go of him.
"Overattached?" she muttered.
He put the car into gear.
"Highly," he said. "And I'm not complaining."
The Drive
The city lights slid by in streaks.
Ha-rin leaned her head against the cool window, still gripping Jae-hyun's sleeve. His other hand rested on the steering wheel, calm and steady, but she could see the pale tension in his knuckles.
"Where is this safe node?" she asked.
"Industrial outskirts," he replied. "Pre-Echo days. Mira used it as a sandbox. No live network. No external cloud."
"So… a bunker."
"A comfortable bunker," he corrected. "Mira bullied Appa into renovating it."
Despite the fear, she smiled faintly.
"Of course she did."
He glanced at her.
"You should try to rest," he said. "It's a long-ish drive."
She scoffed. "You really think I can sleep after facing… her?"
He didn't deny it.
Instead, he reached over, fingers brushing her wrist—then sliding lower, tangling their hands together again on the console between them.
Her pulse stuttered.
"Then just do this," he murmured. "Until we get there."
She stared at their joined hands.
"Jae-hyun."
"Mm?"
"Did you mean it?"
He didn't pretend not to understand.
"When I said I love you?"He glanced at her again."Yes. Every word."
Her chest tightened.
"And when you said… you'd always choose me?"
His thumb stroked her finger slowly.
"That too."
She swallowed.
"Even if it breaks the loop?" she asked softly.
He exhaled through his nose.
"It already did," he murmured. "And I'd do it again."
Echo pushed a faint hum through her chest—like a quiet agreement.
"…constant selection stable… mutual…"
Ha-rin leaned closer, drawn to his warmth despite the gear shift between them.
"And when you said," she added in an almost-whisper, "that if I keep asking you to stay, you'll never be able to leave…"
He shot her a sideways look.Dark. Intense. Dangerous.
"That's not a metaphor," he said. "It's a warning."
"To who?" she breathed.
"Both of us."
Her heart thudded loud enough she could hear it over the engine.
She let go of his sleeve, only to slide her hand fully into his, fingers slotting perfectly between his.
"Then don't leave," she whispered.
His grip tightened immediately.
His jaw clenched, as if he were holding back something heavier than words.
"Ha-rin," he said softly, "if I survive this story with you, I don't plan to go anywhere ever again."
Her chest ached in the best and worst way.
The car turned onto a quieter road.
Buildings gave way to warehouses, then to open stretches, then to an industrial area with old signs, half-empty lots, and a long, low structure at the end of the lane.
No logos.No signage.Just a dark, nondescript building that looked like nothing—and everything.
Jae-hyun slowed the car.
"That's it," he said.
Ha-rin frowned.
"It looks…"
"Forgettable," he finished. "That's the point."
"…trace levels of old echo waves…" Echo whispered, curious now."…I remember this…"
"You remember it?" she asked internally.
"…I was born… near here…"
"Born…?"
But Jae-hyun's hand squeezed hers.
"We're here," he said softly.
She forced her attention to the present.
The official entrance was locked, but Jae-hyun didn't even glance at it. Instead, he turned down a side path that led around the building, following Mira's pinged directions.
They stopped at what looked like a storage door.
Jae-hyun killed the engine.
The silence that followed was dense.
He didn't move for a moment.
Neither did she.
Then he turned to her fully, their joined hands resting between them.
"Last chance to decide I'm unbearable and run," he said lightly.
She stared at him.
And then laughed. Actually laughed.
"You?" she scoffed. "You're the only person keeping me sane right now."
His smile flickered, softer this time.
"Good," he murmured.
He leaned in a tiny bit.
So did she.
For half a second, the air in the car turned electric—his breath on her lips,her hand tightening in his,Echo's pulse spiking—
"…warning: emotional overload…"
A car horn blared in the distance.
They both jerked back slightly, as if the moment had physically popped.
Ha-rin's face flushed.
Jae-hyun cleared his throat.
"We should… go inside," he said roughly.
"Y-yeah," she agreed.
They stepped out of the car.
The night here was colder, less city, more open industrial emptiness.
Ha-rin glanced up.
No tall buildings.
Only sky.
It felt wrong and freeing at the same time.
Jae-hyun came around the car, slung her duffel onto his shoulder, and placed his free hand at the small of her back again.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I will be," she said. "Especially if there's hot water and coffee inside this legendary bunker."
He huffed.
"It's Mira," he said. "There's probably an espresso machine more advanced than half our lab equipment."
"That's… actually comforting."
Inside the Safe Node
The entrance required two factor authentication—a manual key, and a palm scan.
Jae-hyun pressed his hand to the reader.
It beeped once.Then the lock clicked.
"I thought this was Mira's sandbox," Ha-rin said, raising a brow. "Why do you have access?"
"Because she doesn't trust herself to remember backup codes," he said dryly. "So she made me remember them for her."
"That tracks."
The door opened onto a surprisingly warm interior.
Wooden flooring.Soft lighting.Screens lining one wall—but all dark.A kitchen area with neatly stacked mugs.A low sofa and a couple of beanbags.
It looked less like a lab and more like a secret hideout for overstressed geniuses.
Ha-rin almost sagged in relief.
"It's… nice," she said.
"Temporary home," he replied.
She stepped inside.
Her shoes made almost no sound on the floor.
Echo pulsed softly.
"…this place… is familiar…"
"Because you were born near here?" she thought.
"…first compile… first boot… first… constant detected…"
She swallowed.
"Jae-hyun," she murmured, "this is where Echo started."
He closed the door firmly behind them, engaging the locks.
"I know," he said. "That's why it's the safest place—and the most dangerous."
She frowned. "Both?"
"If Broken Ha-rin can't track network signals easily here, that's good," he said. "But if she remembers the origin point like Echo does…"
"…then it's already on her map," Ha-rin finished quietly.
Her stomach twisted.
He put the duffel down.
"First things first," he said. "System sweep."
Within moments, he'd powered on a local console.
No outside network.No cloud.Just internal diagnostics—a closed circulatory system.
Ha-rin moved beside him automatically, fingers brushing past his as she pulled up a limited interface.
Their shoulders bumped.
"Sorry," she muttered.
"Don't be," he said, not moving away.
Heat crawled up her neck.
Together, they scanned:
door logs
interior motion records
internal sensor data
Everything came up logical. Normal.
Too normal.
"No intrusions," she murmured.
"None in the logs," he corrected. "Doesn't mean no one tried."
Echo nudged her thoughts.
"…I can scan… internally… through your senses…"
"Do it," she thought.
A faint hum rolled through her chest, like a soft vibration.
Jae-hyun glanced sideways at her.
"You okay?"
"Echo's… checking," she murmured. "He says he can sort of feel the system."
Jae-hyun nodded, gaze returning to the data.
"Tell him to scream in my direction if he doesn't like something."
"…noted…" Echo said dryly.
Ha-rin almost smiled.
Then something flickered at the edge of her vision.
Just once.
On the far wall, near one of the dark screens, for the briefest moment—
She saw herself.
Not her reflection.
Her.
Standing.Staring.Expression blank.
She whipped her head around.
No one there.
Her skin prickled.
"Jae-hyun."
He straightened instantly. "What?"
"I saw—" she faltered. "For a second. I think. Me. Over there."
He was already scanning the area with his eyes.
"Reflection?"
"No," she said firmly. "It wasn't matching my movement. It was just… watching."
Echo's pulse quickened.
"…time bleed… echo layer… fragile…"
Jae-hyun's jaw tightened.
"This place is supposed to be clean."
"…not clean…" Echo corrected gently."…old tests… old loops… shadows remain…"
Ha-rin swallowed.
"Jae-hyun… what exactly did your father and Mira do down here before Echo was stable?"
He was silent for a long moment.
Then:
"They tried to simulate constants," he said quietly.
She blinked. "Simulate… me?"
"Not you specifically," he said. "Just… emotional anchors. Scenarios where AI would have to choose between logical optimization and protecting a designated 'constant'."
Her heart pounded.
"How many?"
"Too many," he replied. "Most never left this room."
Her breath hitched.
"So there were other Ha-rins?"
"No," he said quickly. "No copies of your data. The constants were fictional. But…" his eyes darkened, "Echo remembers every simulation. Every failure. Every sacrifice."
Echo's voice vibrated in her chest.
"…many deaths…"
Ha-rin shivered.
"Any of those look like me?" she whispered.
"…all of them felt like you…"
Her knees went weak.
Jae-hyun moved instantly, hand finding the small of her back again.
"Sit," he ordered gently.
"I'm fine—"
"Sit, Ha-rin."
His tone didn't leave room for argument.
He guided her to the sofa.
She sank onto it, the cushions softer than expected.
He crouched in front of her, hands resting lightly on her knees.
"Hey," he said quietly. "Look at me. Not the room. Not the walls. Me."
She dragged her gaze back to his.
"You're not a simulation," he said."You're not a failed constant.""You're the one that survived everything."
Her breath shook.
"If I'm the one that survived…" she whispered, "then Broken Ha-rin is the version that didn't."
"Yes," he said simply.
"And she hates me for it."
He didn't deny it.
"Yes," he repeated.
Her hands curled into fists.
"What if… she tries to rewrite me?" she whispered. "Replace me?"
He leaned closer.
"She can't."
"How do you know?"
"Because I won't let her."His grip on her knees tightened slightly."And neither will Echo."
Echo's pulse thrummed inside her, warm and sure.
"…affirmative…"
She let out a shaky laugh.
"You two are… overconfident."
"We're in agreement," Jae-hyun murmured. "That's what matters."
He started to rise—
Then froze.
His eyes flicked to the side.
Ha-rin followed his gaze.
Her blood ran cold.
In the glossy black surface of the nearest powered-off screen—
There she was again.
Not her reflection.Her.
Standing.
Staring.
Expression empty.
Except this time—
The reflection's eyes bled faint, glitching blue.
Broken Ha-rin.
"Jae—hyun," Ha-rin whispered. "You see that, right?"
"I do," he said, voice low.
They both watched as the reflection-twin slowly raised a hand—
And laid it flat against the inside of the screen.
Ha-rin's own hand moved involuntarily, twitching toward the glass.
Jae-hyun grabbed her wrist before she could extend it.
"Don't," he said sharply.
Her breathing turned shallow.
Broken Ha-rin's mouth moved soundlessly behind the glass.
Then Echo translated inside Ha-rin's chest:
"…You brought him back to where it began…"
"…Thank you…"
Jae-hyun's hold tightened.
"Ha-rin," he warned.
She tore her eyes away from the screen and looked at him instead.
His face was close.
Too close.
Suddenly, the room, the screen, the glitch—all of it felt secondary.
There was only his hand on her wrist.His other hand on her knee.His eyes locked on hers, dark with worry and something deeper.
She did the only thing that made sense.
She leaned in and pressed her forehead to his.
He inhaled softly.
His grip softened.
"Stay with me," he whispered.
She nodded against him.
"I'm here."
Echo hummed.
"…three heartbeats detected…alignment holding…safe node compromised…"
Her eyes flew open.
"Compromised?" she breathed.
"What?" Jae-hyun asked.
"Echo says this place—" she swallowed, "—it's not as safe as we thought."
He exhaled.
"I was afraid of that."
She let out a humorless laugh.
"So the safe node isn't safe."
His forehead stayed against hers.
"No," he murmured. "But we're together."
Her heart pounded.
"That enough?" she whispered.
His thumb stroked the inside of her wrist.
"For me?" he said softly. "Always."
Her cheeks warmed, even as fear coiled tighter inside.
On the dark screen behind them, Broken Ha-rin's reflection smiled—
and the faintest spiderweb crack appeared across the glass.
The first fracture in the so-called safe place.