Ryu Saeyoung jolted awake as though ripped from a nightmare. His chest heaved, sweat beaded his forehead, and his eyes darted around wildly, searching for something—someone.
The room was dim except for the pale blue glow of the massive monitoring screen across the wall. In front of it sat three figures: Kim Jisoo, tall and sharp-eyed, leaning slightly against the console with his arms crossed; Lee Hana, perched on a chair with her hair tumbling over her shoulder; and the golden-haired child-like figure of the System, speaking in its calm, almost mechanical tone.
They were deep in discussion, their voices low. For a heartbeat, Ryu Saeyoung thought he was still dreaming. Because there—standing alive and breathing—was Kim Jisoo.
His breath hitched. His throat locked up. He choked on a sound he couldn't stop.
All three heads turned at once.
Kim Jisoo's eyes sharpened in alertness before softening as he recognized him. Hana tilted her head curiously, but her hand shifted slightly closer to her pocket knife. And the System, eyes glowing faintly, merely watched with quiet calculation.
"...You're awake," Kim Jisoo said finally, voice steady, though his eyes flickered with confusion.
The three hurried to his side. Kim Jisoo was the first to crouch down, holding a glass of water toward him. "Drink. You collapsed earlier."
Ryu Saeyoung accepted the cup with trembling hands and drank deeply, the cool liquid calming his ragged throat. When he lowered it, Jisoo introduced them one by one.
"I'm Kim Jisoo. This is Lee Hana. And…" he glanced at the System, who met his gaze without expression, "that's the System. You've already met it before, haven't you?"
Saeyoung's lips curved faintly, bitterly. "Yes. Too many times."
Lee Hana studied him curiously. "And you are?"
Wiping his mouth, he straightened his back and bowed slightly, his voice quiet but steady. "Ryu Saeyoung."
The name hung in the air like a ripple spreading across water. Kim Jisoo narrowed his eyes slightly, and the System's gaze sharpened, but neither spoke.
Instead, Saeyoung reached into his pocket and retrieved a small pen. Its metallic casing glimmered faintly, as though it contained light trapped inside. He turned toward Kim Jisoo, his expression grave.
"Open your palm."
Jisoo blinked, suspicious. "What?"
"Your palm," Saeyoung repeated firmly.
The System stirred, its childlike face going cold, its voice edged with unease. "Provider. That artifact—"
"Stay silent," Saeyoung cut in sharply. His eyes didn't leave Jisoo. "This is between him and me. You cannot interfere."
The System's lips pressed into a line. For once, it said nothing.
Jisoo hesitated, but something in Saeyoung's tone carried the weight of inevitability. Slowly, cautiously, he extended his hand.
Saeyoung clicked the pen. Instead of ink, a warm shimmer of golden light spilled out. It sank into Jisoo's skin, etching itself with an elegant motion as though written by an invisible hand.
When the glow faded, Jisoo's breath caught.
On his palm was a mark—delicate, beautiful—and in its center was a name.
Haru.
His heart stopped. His breath stumbled out in a stutter. "H-Haru…?"
Ryu Saeyoung's eyes softened, though sorrow weighed heavily in his gaze. "Yes. Haru."
Jisoo's throat worked soundlessly. The name burned into his palm like a brand, but it was not pain—it was a memory, a wound, a light.
Saeyoung exhaled slowly. "That child… gave you his life essence. The true savior chosen by the System was never you, Kim Jisoo. It was Haru. He was the one meant to carry the burden of this world."
Silence crashed into the room, thick and suffocating.
"But," Saeyoung continued, his voice tightening, "Haru always died. No matter how many times I tried, no matter how many timelines I rewound, his life was always cut short. Sometimes too early, sometimes at the final moment. In the last cycle…" His voice broke for just a heartbeat, but he pressed on, "Haru gave up. He gave his very essence to you, passing on the responsibility he could no longer carry. And with that… he disappeared. Forever. He will never exist again."
Jisoo's eyes blurred. His lips trembled, but no words came.
Haru's face flashed in his mind—the childish pout, the teasing grin, the strange maturity in his words. That boy who smiled even in fear, who carried himself with care far beyond his age.
And now, suddenly, everything made sense.
The way Haru sometimes looked at him with eyes too knowing. The way he spoke as if time itself weighed on his shoulders. The way he smiled at Jisoo, calling him beautiful, like someone who had already accepted an end.
Haru was tired.
A child who bore a burden not his own. Who carried the fate of a world on fragile shoulders.
And when he finally broke, when he finally let go, he gave everything he had left—to Jisoo.
Tears spilled silently down Jisoo's face. He didn't sob, didn't wail. He simply sat there, the name burning on his palm, his chest hollow and aching.
Lee Hana looked away, biting her lip hard. Even she, who had only heard fragments about Haru, felt the grief pressing in.
The System lowered its gaze, unusually quiet. Even it could not diminish the weight of the truth.
Saeyoung leaned back, his eyes wet though his voice stayed firm. "Haru entrusted you with this world. With everything he carried. You may not understand why yet, but he believed in you more than anyone. That's why he left his name on your palm—to remind you."
Jisoo stared at the mark, tears dripping soundlessly onto the floor.
Haru had been his light. In that bleak, collapsing world, it was Haru's laughter, Haru's stubbornness, Haru's warmth that kept him going.
And now… that light was gone.
His fingers curled slowly, closing over the name as though to shield it from the world. His shoulders trembled, but he made no sound.
Haru…
The silence stretched, heavy and unbreakable. Hana shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether to speak. The System remained still, its face unreadable.
But Jisoo… Jisoo sat frozen, drowning in the memory of a boy who no longer existed.
Minutes passed before Saeyoung finally broke the quiet, his voice low and ragged.
"Kim Jisoo… will you let Haru's sacrifice go to waste?"
Jisoo's eyes lifted, sharp and wet. His lips parted, but no words came.
"You can live in the darkness," Saeyoung continued, "or you can carry his light forward. That's what he wanted from you. That's why he gave everything to you."
Jisoo's throat burned. His chest felt crushed. But beneath the grief, something stirred—a flicker of resolve, faint but growing.
He wiped his tears with the back of his hand, his palm still branded with Haru's name. "I… don't know if I can," he admitted hoarsely.
Saeyoung's gaze softened. "Then try. That's all Haru ever asked of you."
The lab fell into silence again, but it was a different silence now—heavier, yet steadier. The mark on Jisoo's palm glowed faintly, as though alive, as though whispering the memory of the child who once smiled at him.
Kim Jisoo sat straighter, still trembling but no longer breaking. Haru was gone, but his light lingered.
And Jisoo knew… he couldn't let it fade.
Because now....Haru does not exist.