Jae-Won froze the moment Serin stepped from the shadows. The underground corridor behind her pulsed with broken emergency lights, casting her silhouette in surreal flickers of red and white. She hadn't changed much—same cold grace, same sharp eyes—but there was a tension in her that hadn't been there before. Maybe guilt. Maybe something darker.
"You're not supposed to be here," Serin said.
Jae-Won scoffed, his dagger spinning once in his fingers before he lowered it. "Says the one who buried me under false loyalty."
Her jaw tightened. "You were never supposed to wake up again."
The truth sliced deeper than any blade. No excuses. No apologies. Just raw confirmation. Jae-Won stepped forward, glitch energy twitching at his fingertips—time disjointed in short bursts as reality bent around him. "Then why didn't you make sure I stayed dead?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she looked past him, eyes scanning the rubble-strewn corridor as if expecting something worse than a resurrected ghost.
"You think I don't know what you and Jin-Hwan were doing?" Jae-Won said. "You both used me. You needed my ability to stabilize that damn core."
"It was never personal."
"No," he snarled, "that's the worst part."
The temporal flickers around him began to increase—reality glitching in stutters. A sign of his growing instability. Or rage. Maybe both. Serin noticed, her eyes narrowing.
"You've been using the glitch again, haven't you?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
"You're overclocking your soul. That ability was never meant to be wielded like this."
"And yet, here I am."
Serin stepped forward, the space between them charged like a wire pulled taut. "The version of you I knew would've listened. Trusted. We were a team."
"We were never a team," he said coldly. "You were always two steps ahead, just waiting for the moment I'd fall."
There was silence—until she finally muttered, "It wasn't meant to end like that."
"Then why did it?"
This time, Serin's words came slower, more hesitant. "Because they promised salvation. Jin-Hwan... he showed me what would happen if we didn't complete the synchronization. The world, Jae-Won. It wasn't just about power—it was survival."
"You chose survival over loyalty."
"I chose the greater good."
"And let me guess," he spat, "you still think you're the hero of this story."
Serin's eyes flickered—not with rage, but something closer to regret. "We both lost something that day."
Jae-Won stepped back, glitch energy stabilizing just enough for clarity to pierce through. "I didn't just lose something, Serin. I lost everything."
Then came the unexpected—Serin reached into her coat and pulled out a fragment. A data core—damaged, flickering. Jae-Won recognized the sync signature instantly. It was his.
"You kept it?" he said, stunned.
"I thought I could reverse what we did. But it was too late."
The corridor shook as distant tremors rumbled through the underground, followed by distorted alarms. Time around them warped slightly, evidence that something—or someone—was drawing near.
"Jin-Hwan knows you're alive," she whispered.
"I'm counting on it."
She looked at him then—not as a traitor or enemy—but something more complex. "He won't stop, Jae-Won. He's looking for the core remnants. If he finds the other fragments..."
"He'll finish what you started."
And just like that, they both understood the stakes.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Jae-Won turned. "I'm going after him. You can help me. Or you can get in my way."
Serin didn't follow, but she didn't leave either.
The moment passed.
Jae-Won stepped into the glitch—time stuttered—and vanished from her sight.