The silence after the Archive's disappearance was suffocating. The golden glow had died with it, leaving the chamber darker than before, shadows crawling across the walls like predators circling prey. Only the faint shimmer in Lin's eyes — that unsettling golden flicker — remained to remind them of what had just happened.
Min-joon clung to him, his small hands trembling against Lin's shoulders. "Lin… talk to me. Please." His voice cracked, each syllable heavy with fear.
Lin's chest heaved, but not from weakness. No, it was from the storm inside him. Thousands of breaths not his own, thousands of memories pressing against his skull. Every scream, every failure, every blade and bullet that had ended a clone's life now coursed through him. It was as if the walls between his mind and theirs had crumbled, and all the other "Lins" had rushed in, demanding to be acknowledged.
