The hall was no longer a hall.
Stone and steel groaned like the ribs of a collapsing beast, the once-grand ceiling vomiting shards of glass and chunks of tile as the Titan's second strike shattered the floor beneath it. Cadets screamed—high, untrained voices snapping into the void—before vanishing beneath rubble or being hurled across the wreckage like rag dolls.
The air was choked with dust and iron. Hae-won's tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth, and the taste of blood—metallic, suffocating—settled thick in his throat until it felt like he was drowning in it.
"Formation! Hold the—hold—!"
Seok's voice bled raw, tearing through the dust like a lash. He was still standing at the center of what had been a circle, dragging cadets by their collars back into place, but the circle was gone. Broken. The line had shattered with the first strike.
Shields lay splintered. Spears bent at impossible angles.
A boy no older than sixteen staggered up beside Hae-won, face white beneath streaks of crimson. He swung his sword in a panicked arc, burying it deep into the Titan's ankle. For a heartbeat, hope flared in his eyes.
Then the wound closed.
Not with flesh knitting. Not with muscle sealing.
It corrected.
The torn skin smoothed over, the blood rewound, like a ledger striking out a mistake. A red slash of script seared into the air where the blow had landed, glowing like a scar:
[ Adjustment Logged: Debt Cancelled. ]
The boy's eyes widened. "No—"
The Titan's foot came down.
Bone crunched. A scream ended mid-breath. When the dust cleared, there was nothing but a red smear where he'd stood.
The chant followed, dragging like chains through their skulls.
"Unpaid… unpaid… unpaid…"
Hae-won staggered backward, grit grinding into his palms as he braced against the shaking ground. His vision swam. The sword in his hand pulsed, heat sinking into his bones.
Offer me one, it whispered, slithering through his skull. One life. Just one. I will carve the ledger open. I will drink what they cannot erase.
He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck tight enough to snap. His knuckles burned white around the hilt.
"No," he rasped under his breath.
But the whispers didn't stop.
All around him, cadets lunged with desperate strikes, their blades bouncing uselessly from the Titan's skin. Every hit erased itself. Every wound became a correction. And every scream became a tally mark written into the ruin.
Arin stumbled forward through the haze, coughing as she pushed aside broken stone. Her hair hung loose and filthy, streaked with blood, her uniform torn at the sleeve.
She looked up—straight at the Titan.
"Do-hyun!"
Her voice cracked, half-scream, half-prayer.
The Titan's massive arm froze mid-swing. Its chest rattled open with a noise like chains snapping, ribs peeling back to reveal the ledger-book cavity.
Inside, muffled, buried, a hum threaded through.
A lullaby.
Do-hyun's tune.
Hae-won's breath stopped. For one awful moment, it was louder than the screams, louder than the collapsing stone, louder than the sword gnawing at his arm.
"Do-hyun," Arin whispered again, softer now. As though speaking to a child. As though calling across a dream.
The Titan's chant stuttered.
"… unpaid… un…"
It turned.
Every cadet still standing froze in place. The monster, stitched from flesh and ruin, leaned toward her.
And the hum grew louder.
Hae-won's chest ached with it, like someone pressing a hand against his heart.
The sword writhed in his grip, venomous. He is nothing. He is mine. Tear him free and feed me. Offer me her, offer me one, and I will break him open.
Hae-won's throat tightened. His vision blurred. The air reeked of blood and ash.
"Not him," he whispered hoarsely.
The Titan's enormous hand lifted, shadow spilling over Arin as it prepared to crush her where she stood.
Hae-won surged forward, the cursed sword screaming in his bones. The Titan's hand came down like a collapsing tower, blotting out the fractured ceiling above. The air pressure alone shoved Arin to her knees, her scream strangled in her throat.
Hae-won moved without thought.
The cursed sword ripped through the haze, its edge singing like broken glass dragged against bone. Sparks flared where steel met the Titan's descending palm. The impact sent shockwaves ripping through his arms, rattling down his spine until his teeth clattered.
He dug in his heels. The stone beneath him cracked, dust exploding upward in a choking cloud.
For one impossible second, he held it.
The Titan's bulk loomed overhead, its ledger-voice a guttural chorus vibrating through his skull.
"Unpaid… unpaid…"
Blood streamed down Hae-won's arm where the cursed sword's grip tore into his skin, drinking. The pain was a raw, molten line. The blade wasn't just hungry—it was thriving.
Offer me one, it whispered again, the sound curling like a hook behind his eyes. Give me her. The weak girl reaching for ghosts. The broken boy trembling behind you. Anyone. One coin for one opening.
"Shut up," Hae-won hissed through his teeth. His arms trembled, his lungs burned. The Titan pressed harder, its strength limitless. His body began to fold beneath the weight.
Then—
A hum.
So soft, it might have been a memory. So steady, it might have been a heartbeat.
It threaded through the monster's chest, clearer than before.
Do-hyun's tune.
The sword faltered. Its whisper wavered, like static cut through with a voice it couldn't quite drown out.
Hae-won's eyes flicked upward, through the fissures of ribs that opened and closed like pages turning.
And he saw it.
A fragment of a face, half-submerged in sinew and ledger-script. Lips cracked, eyelids fluttering. Not whole—never whole—but enough. Enough to tear something vital from Hae-won's chest.
Do-hyun.
"Arin—!" His voice tore from him as he shoved sideways, dragging her down with all the strength left in his body. The Titan's hand slammed into the stone where she'd stood, pulverizing it into shards that scythed through the air.
They rolled together across the broken floor, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. Arin's hands clutched at his arm, nails digging in, but her eyes weren't on him.
They were locked on the Titan's chest.
On the face.
Her lips parted. "Do-hyun…"
The Titan's chant faltered again, voices stuttering, twisting into a broken rhythm.
"… unpaid… un… un…"
It reeled back, arms spasming, as though the very act of recognition was an error in its accounting.
The sword throbbed in Hae-won's hand, furious.
Do not hesitate. He is gone. He is debt. He is mine. Cut him free—feed me, and I will erase him from this ledger.
But Hae-won couldn't look away. Not from the hum. Not from the flicker of life stitched into horror.
And for the first time since the Titan had risen, the panic in his chest wasn't just fear of dying.
It was fear of killing Do-hyun twice. The hall groaned as though it were alive, each splinter of falling stone echoing like the tick of a clock counting down.
Hae-won's chest heaved, every breath a knife in his ribs. The cursed sword pulsed like a living heart in his hand, its hunger gnawing through bone.
Do it, it whispered, its voice now inside his pulse, beating in time with his blood. Do it, and I will free you all. Refuse… and watch them drown beneath the ledger.
The Titan bent lower, its ribs yawning wider, script burning like fire across its chest. Inside, Do-hyun's face shivered in and out of focus, caught between flesh and debt, his lips moving faintly—murmuring the lullaby through a veil of agony.
Arin's voice broke into a sob. "He's still there… please—save him!"
Seo laughed from somewhere in the wreckage, a jagged sound that cut through dust and despair. "Save him? Or end him? Pick fast, Chae Hae-won—because that thing isn't waiting."
Seok's command barked sharp as steel: "Core. Now. Do not hesitate."
But Hae-won hesitated.
The Titan's many mouths groaned in unison, its ledger-voice deepening into a tolling bell that rattled the marrow in their bones.
"UNPAID…"
It raised its arm again, massive fingers curling into a fist large enough to erase them all.
Arin clutched his wrist, eyes wide, tears cutting streaks through the dust on her face. "Please. Don't kill him. Not Do-hyun. Not again."
The cursed sword flared hot—its edge vibrating like it was ready to leap from his grip on its own.
Hae-won's knees shook. His body screamed. His mind fractured between the hum and the hunger.
And then—
Do-hyun's eyes flickered open.
Just for a heartbeat. Just long enough to look at him.
Hae-won froze, every thought hollowed out by the weight of that gaze. His friend. His brother-in-arms. Still alive—or only a cruel imitation.
The Titan's fist began to fall.
The sword screamed in his bones.
Arin screamed his name.
And Hae-won—
—chose