Kim Jisoo opened the heavy steel door to one of the free rooms in the underground lab. The space was plain—bare walls, a narrow bed, a desk stripped of any warmth—but it was safe. Or at least safer than the world above.
Lee Hana stepped in cautiously, scanning the corners as if expecting monsters to burst out of the shadows. Her black hair clung to her cheeks from sweat and grime, and her eyes still carried that raw, determined fire.
Jisoo closed the door behind them with a firm click. He leaned against it, arms folded, staring at her without a word.
For a long moment, silence stretched between them. The hum of ventilation was the only sound.
Finally, Hana spoke. "You're hiding something."
Jisoo's jaw tightened. He hated how perceptive she was.
"What do you mean?" he asked, his tone flat.
"You looked at me like I was already dead," Hana said. Her voice wasn't accusing—just factual. "Like you've seen me die before."
Kim Jisoo shook his head, "I didn't see you die."
Hana froze, the words sinking into her like ice.
Jisoo pushed away from the door and began pacing the room, every word heavy and deliberate. "I lived through it once already. The sky darkened. The sun dimmed until it was barely a shadow. And when the light failed… the monsters came."
Hana swallowed hard but didn't speak.
"They weren't people anymore," Jisoo continued, his voice dropping lower. "They looked human, but their eyes gave them away. They smiled when they killed. They were fast, strong, unstoppable. I lost everyone. Everything."
He paused, his hand clenching into a fist. "Haru." The name left his lips like a knife twisting in his chest.
Hana's eyes softened, but she remained silent.
"He was just a child," Jisoo said. His throat felt tight, but he forced the words out. "He stayed quiet when monsters were near. He never once screamed, even when terrified. I tried to protect him. I did everything. And still…"
He stopped, exhaling slowly as if trying to burn the memory away. "We both died."
The room was silent again, thick with the weight of his confession.
Hana sat on the edge of the bed, her hands folded in her lap. "You… remember all of it."
"Yes."
"And now?"
Jisoo looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Now I'm alive again. Before it all begins. And I don't know why."
For the first time since meeting him, Hana's confident front faltered. She bit her lip, her brow furrowing in thought.
"If everything you said is true," she murmured, "then staying here isn't safe. We need to move. You need to find Haru again before it's too late."
The name in her mouth cut through him like glass. Jisoo's instincts flared—sharp, urgent. He had to find Haru. But the reality of his situation kept him anchored.
"This lab is the only secure base I have," Jisoo said. "I have another facility, but it's deep in the forest, far from civilization. Transporting equipment, resources—it's not something I can do quickly."
"Then don't do it alone." Hana's tone sharpened. "My family has resources. Wealth. Vehicles. People loyal to us. We can move faster if we combine forces."
Jisoo's eyes narrowed. "Your family?"
"Yes." She met his stare head-on. "My father. My older brother. His wife. They're still alive, and they need protection. I'm not asking for charity. I'll provide the transport, the manpower, everything. In return, I only want one thing—"
"—their protection," Jisoo finished for her.
Hana nodded once.
The System, who had been watching from the corner with a smug little tilt of his head, finally chimed in. "You should accept."
Jisoo glared at him, his voice low. "Stay out of this."
But the System didn't flinch. "Think logically. Her family has the means to move you faster than you ever could on your own. With her resources and your foresight, survival chances rise significantly. Not to mention—she's already a Protector. Her awakening will come sooner if she's around the people she cares about."
Jisoo turned away, frustrated. The System always spoke with that annoying mix of arrogance and logic that was difficult to dismiss.
Hana, oblivious to the exchange, pressed on. "You're preparing for something bigger than just hiding. If you truly believe the monsters are coming, then numbers and resources matter. My family can give you both."
Jisoo looked at her again, studying the steel in her eyes. She wasn't bargaining for comfort. She wasn't pleading for safety. She was demanding survival—not just for herself but for the people she loved.
He hated that he understood her so well.
He finally spoke, his voice low but steady. "I don't make promises I can't keep. If your family comes under my protection, then they follow my rules. My instincts are the reason I'm still alive. If I say move, they move. If I say hide, they hide. No questions."
Hana's lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile. "Agreed."
The System clapped his hands once, his green eyes glowing brighter. "Excellent. Two paths converging. The first piece of the puzzle falls into place."
Jisoo ignored him again, though the words echoed in his chest with a weight he didn't want to acknowledge.
Hana rose from the bed and extended her hand toward him. "Then it's a deal."
Jisoo hesitated, staring at her hand as if it were a weapon. His instincts weren't screaming danger—they were whispering something else. That this choice mattered. That rejecting her now would alter the fragile balance of survival.
Finally, with a sharp exhale, he clasped her hand. His grip was firm, cold. Hers was steady and warm, despite the cuts on her skin.
For a moment, it felt like two worlds collided in that simple handshake.
"Tomorrow," Jisoo said, releasing her hand. "We'll start with Haru. If he's still where I remember… we'll find him."
Hana nodded. "And after that, my family."
The System grinned, leaning lazily against the wall. "Good. The game is finally moving."
Jisoo turned away, but the pit in his stomach wouldn't leave. He had just taken his first step down a path he couldn't retreat from.
.
The air warped and split open like torn glass. A jagged black seam opened in the middle of the forest clearing, stretching wider until it snapped into a portal glowing with pale, distorted light.
Ryu Saeyoung stepped out of it.
His tall frame was rigid, his black coat torn from the strain of the jump, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His black eyes flickered faintly with residual energy. He staggered, knees buckling, and before he could stop it—blood gushed from his mouth.
It splattered dark against the grass.
His hand shot up to his lips, trembling, his body convulsing with the effort of holding it back. His lungs burned. His chest ached like someone had driven steel rods through his ribs.
"Fourteen…" he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice was quiet, but ragged. "…Fourteen times. And I still…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He steadied himself. His gaze hardened, forcing his body to obey even as it screamed to collapse. Straightening his back, he forced the blood away with controlled breathing. The sickness, the pain, the damage—it didn't matter. Not now.
He had come back again.
For him.
The one he had failed to protect every single time.
Kim Jisoo.
The thought of that name alone cut into him like a blade. For fourteen timelines, Jisoo's eyes had closed too soon. For fourteen lives, Saeyoung had arrived too late, too slow, too broken.
This time had to be different.
He turned his face upward.
The sky was still… bright.
Blue.
Alive.
The sun shone the way it once did before the dimming. The air held warmth. No monsters shrieking in the distance. No black-eyed mockeries roaming the streets.
His jaw tightened. He couldn't waste a single moment.
Saeyoung moved quickly to the edge of the clearing where an old jeep sat, dust coating its surface. He wrenched the door open and slid inside. His hands gripped the wheel with unnatural steadiness despite the trembling still wracking his body.
The engine roared.
He pressed the accelerator and drove, his eyes fixed forward with unyielding focus.
This was the window. The thin margin of time before it all collapsed again. The fragile prelude to chaos. He knew it by heart. He had seen this sunrise turn into blood.
But maybe—just maybe—this time would not end in death.
Far from him, back in the lab Kim Jisoo once called home, the System tilted his golden-haired, childlike head.
His green eyes narrowed.
Something had stirred.
He was standing by Jisoo's side, appearing only to him, arms folded loosely. But suddenly, he felt the ripple—an intrusion against the fabric of this constructed reality.
Someone else had arrived.
Not a protector. Not a monster. Not a native fragment.
Someone from the past.
The sensation was sharp, vibrating through the artificial threads of this altered future. Like a foreign note in a song that shouldn't exist here.
The System's lips curled into something like a smile.
"Interesting," he murmured under his breath.
Jisoo, who had been checking equipment in silence, glanced sideways at the boy. "What now?"
The childlike System only shook his head slightly, as if dismissing it, though his eyes gleamed.
"Nothing you need to worry about," he said. "Yet."
Saeyoung's jeep tore through the empty countryside. The sound of the engine echoed across quiet fields, where the grass swayed gently under an untouched sky. His black eyes flicked across the scenery, scanning everything.
Every building. Every shadow.
It was too early for the monsters. But they would come. He could already feel the world bending toward the same collapse he had seen before.
Each time, he had chased after Jisoo. Each time, he had been too late.
He remembered the first death—the knife through the boy's side in a deserted alley. The third—crushed beneath falling rubble as Saeyoung reached out just seconds too late. The seventh—when Haru's scream broke off mid-breath as both were swallowed by the creatures.
The fourteenth… the fourteenth had been worst of all.
Saeyoung clenched the wheel until the leather creaked beneath his grip.
He forced the memories away. Dwelling on them was useless.
But the image of Jisoo's face wouldn't leave him—the quiet strength in his eyes, the stubborn solitude, the way he bore loneliness like armor. And Haru's fragile smile, the child clinging to life with both hands.
"Not again," Saeyoung muttered under his breath. His voice was low but carved with steel.
He pushed the jeep harder, the speedometer climbing.
Somewhere ahead—Jisoo was alive. Somewhere in this still-bright world, Haru's heartbeat was steady.
And Saeyoung would find them before it all began again.
Meanwhile, the System hadn't stopped smiling.
Jisoo finally turned on him, sharp-eyed. "What's so interesting?"
The boy tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Why do you think I'd tell you everything?"
"Because you're supposed to," Jisoo said flatly.
"Supposed to?" The System chuckled, his childlike face twisting with a hint of something too old for it. "I told you already. I'm not here to hold your hand. I'm here to make sure the Savior doesn't crumble before he begins."
Jisoo exhaled through his nose, unimpressed, but he didn't press further.
The System only let his gaze drift again toward the horizon. His small hand brushed against the wall absentmindedly as he whispered, almost to himself:
"So you finally stepped through again, Saeyoung."
His grin widened.
"Let's see if you survive your fifteenth try."