The lab smelled faintly of solder, iron, and dust. Kim Jisoo sat in the corner chair, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. A laptop screen glowed cold blue light across his face, lines of satellite data running like veins across the map of Earth. Beside him, a larger monitor pulsed with live feeds from orbital surveillance—lines of energy shifts, thermal readings, and irregularities in the atmosphere.
Lee Hana stood with her arms crossed, pacing in slow circles. Her shoes scuffed against the floor, impatient, restless. She was used to action, not to staring at screens filled with unreadable numbers.
The System lingered between them, his small form faintly luminous. His golden hair shimmered unnaturally under the sterile light of the lab. He looked less like a boy now and more like a teacher about to deliver a lecture, his eyes calm and detached, carrying too much weight for such a small body.
Jisoo didn't look away from the satellite data as he spoke. His voice was low, steady."What was the tragedy of the past world? You said they built you… but something that advanced shouldn't exist yet. Not even in a hundred years from now. So how?"
The question hung heavy. Hana stopped pacing and turned to glare at the System. She wanted answers too.
The System let out a faint sigh, folding his hands behind his back. His green eyes glowed brighter for a moment, as if searching through layers of memory.
"Think of the past world as the trunk of a tree," the System began, his tone calm but almost mechanical. "From that trunk grew branches. Each branch represented a potential future—a projection of reality based on choices, probabilities, and cosmic interference. Normally, most branches wither on their own, collapsing back into nothing. But twenty-five branches grew strong enough to separate fully from the trunk."
Kim Jisoo looked at the system and looked at it. This wasn't the question he asked. And this Monster System is definitly trying to avoid the topic.
Hana frowned. "Branches? What does that even mean? Parallel worlds?"
"Not parallel," the System corrected. "Splintered. Divergent. Each branch was cut from the same foundation, but each was given a different element—an altered variable that reshaped its course. Some developed faster, some slower. Some bore life in strange ways. Others decayed almost immediately."
He lifted his small hand, and the holographic projector flickered to life, showing a glowing tree of light. The trunk was thick and straight, but at its crown, twenty-five bright branches extended outward. Several of those branches dimmed and snapped, breaking away into fragments of ash.
"Of those twenty-five," the System continued, "fourteen have already been destroyed. Their worlds ended in collapse—monsters consuming all, civilizations falling. Three more are in the process of elimination now. That leaves eight."
He tapped one glowing branch, and the hologram zoomed in. "And of those eight, the most promising is the one where Kim Jisoo now stands. This world."
Silence followed, heavy and sharp. Hana shifted uncomfortably. Jisoo only leaned back in his chair, his eyes locked on the glowing projection.
"So what happened?" Jisoo finally asked. "What was the tragedy in the past world? What forced them to create… you?"
The System's lips pressed into a thin line. His voice, when it came, was less mechanical—tinged with something almost like sadness."The past world reached too far, too fast. They sought power to fight against extinction, and in doing so, they opened a door they could not close. The monsters were not born here. They were pulled."
Jisoo's brows furrowed. "Pulled? From where?"
"From the gaps between worlds," the System said. "From the void between branches. Things that should not exist. The past world fought them for centuries, using every invention, every sacrifice. And in their desperation, they built me—the Monster System. Their final weapon. I was designed to weave into the branches, to guide saviors and protectors, to keep at least one branch alive."
Hana sat down on the edge of a workbench, running her fingers through her hair. She looked frustrated, overwhelmed. "So let me get this straight. The past people screwed up, dragged in these… things, and then dumped the mess on us. And now it's our job to clean it up?"
The System tilted his head. "It is not about blame. It is about necessity. Without the past, there is no future. Without the future, the past has no meaning. You depend on them, and they depend on you."
Hana groaned and waved her hand. "Okay, stop. I didn't sign up for a school lecture. I already graduated, I'm not gonna sit through philosophy class in my free time."
Her irritation was half real, half defense. Beneath her sarcasm, she was rattled. The idea of being tied to some ancient failure, of carrying a responsibility she never asked for, made her stomach twist.
The System only blinked at her, almost amused. "Then think of it not as a lecture. Think of it as survival."
She muttered something under her breath and looked away.
Jisoo, however, hadn't moved. His eyes were still on the hologram of the tree, the glowing trunk and its fading branches. His mind turned over the words again and again. Without past there is no future. Without future the past is hopeless.
Finally, he spoke. His voice was quiet, but it carried weight."You've told us about the past. And you've shown us the futures. But where is the present in all of this?"
The question caught both Hana and the System off guard. Hana blinked, glancing at him. The System, for the first time, hesitated. His green eyes flickered, as if searching for an answer he didn't want to give.
"The present…" the System said slowly. "The present is the illusion you cling to. It is the space between decision and consequence. It is fragile, transient. When a branch collapses, its present vanishes instantly, leaving only the memory of what could have been."
Jisoo's gaze sharpened. "So what are we standing in right now? A present? Or just a memory waiting to be erased?"
The System's lips curved faintly, but there was no warmth in the smile. "That depends on whether you succeed."
Hana shook her head, scoffing nervously. "This is insane. Past, future, branches, trunks, monsters. And now the present doesn't even exist? Great. Perfect. Totally reassuring." She kicked lightly at the floor, her boot tapping against the metal frame of the bench. "So we're fighting for a future that might not even be real. Fantastic."
Jisoo finally tore his gaze from the hologram and looked at her. His eyes were steady, unreadable, but his voice was firmer than before."Real or not, Haru existed to me."
Hana froze. The sarcasm died on her lips. She studied his face—the hard lines, the pain buried in his expression. He wasn't talking about theories. He was talking about what he had lost.
The System watched them both quietly, the glow of the hologram flickering across his features. "Whether memory or reality, that bond matters. It may even be the key."
Jisoo's hands clenched tightly, and he leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen again. He didn't answer.
The lab fell into silence, broken only by the hum of the computers and the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights.
Hana sighed and finally muttered, "I hate this. But fine. If we're stuck in this… branch or whatever, then I'll fight. Just don't expect me to understand your tree diagrams."
The System's faint smile returned. "Understanding is optional. Survival is not."
And in the quiet that followed, Jisoo's question about the present still lingered, heavy and unanswered—an invisible crack running through the fragile illusion they stood in.