The metal of the bracelet dug into his skin, and Min-jun squeezed it so hard he felt he might break it. Today, he was heading on a reconnaissance mission to a zone where the Echo had malfunctioned again. The command was silent, but rumors slithered through the base like poison: people were disappearing, and the rift pulsed as if calling someone's name.
"You look like you're walking to your death, Kim," Chan said at the exit.
Min-jun gave a short reply:
"I'm fine."
But in his thoughts, there was only Seo-hyeon. His smile. His voice. His whisper in the dark. All of it lived inside him like a ghost.
The zone was a few kilometers away. The closer they got, the colder the air became. The metal trembled, the walls echoed with a hum. At the complex gate, the screens flickered red, as if the system itself didn't want them to enter.
Min-jun stepped inside first. The hall was empty, but something in his heart froze. In the center, among shattered consoles, the Echo pulsed. The blue light beat with the rhythm of a living heart. And in that hum, he heard a voice. His name. Seo-hyeon's voice.
"Seo-hyeon...?"
His communicator crackled, but he didn't hear it. The bracelet on his wrist grew hot, as if it were responding to the anomaly's call. Longing led him forward, guilt pushed him from behind. He reached out his hand—and stepped through.
Light tore the world apart. The last thing he saw were gray-green eyes, reaching for him from the darkness. Full of pain. Full of love.
And everything vanished.