The storm left the city washed clean.By dawn, the clouds had thinned into mist, and the streets glittered with puddles reflecting a sky that looked almost merciful.
Inside his office, Kang Jae-hyun stood by the window, holding the broken pocket watch.The second hand no longer moved, but somehow it still felt alive — like the heart of something that had finally found rest.
The elevator chimed behind him.Yoon Ha-rin stepped out, hair still damp from the rain, sketchbook pressed to her chest.For the first time in weeks, she didn't look afraid.
"You didn't go home?" she asked softly.
He turned, smiling faintly. "Time felt too fragile to leave unattended."
She walked closer until the early light hit both of them — same reflection, two timelines folded into one.
"The watch stopped," she said.
He nodded. "Maybe it's telling us to stop running."
Ha-rin's voice trembled. "Then what do we do now?"
Jae-hyun met her eyes. "We finish the story."
They drove to Aureum-ri in silence — not the awkward kind, but the kind full of thoughts that didn't need words.Fields rolled by, half-green, half-gold, like the world hadn't decided which season to be.
When they reached the river, the old bridge waited.Restored. Quiet. Whole.
It looked nothing like the stormed memory they'd seen in their visions, but still — the air carried a hush, as though the place remembered them.
Ha-rin stepped forward, sketchbook trembling in her hands.
"This is where she tried to save him," she whispered. "Where they both vanished."
Jae-hyun came to stand beside her. "Then let's give them a different ending."
They sat on the wooden railing, the same way two children once had.The wind played with her hair; he brushed it back automatically.
"You still have the watch?" she asked.
He nodded and held it out.It caught the light — a fracture of silver, beautiful even in its imperfection.
Ha-rin opened her sketchbook to a blank page.Her fingers hesitated. "Tell me how it ends."
He smiled gently. "You already know."
"I want to hear it," she said. "From you."
He took a deep breath."It ends with us surviving the storm. With you laughing too loud. With me finally saying I love you without the universe needing to prove it twice."
Her eyes shimmered. "That's the first ending I want to keep."
She began to draw — careful, deliberate lines that traced the bridge, the river, two figures holding hands under the returning sun.
Jae-hyun watched, silent.Each stroke seemed to slow the air around them, like time itself was leaning in to watch.
When she finished, she signed her name — not Yoon Ha-rin, but the name from the old legend, the painter's daughter she had been before.Below it, he took the pencil and added his own.
Two signatures.One story.
The wind rose suddenly, pages fluttering.The final sketch glowed faintly, as if ink remembered light.
Then the watch in his palm clicked — once.
A warmth spread outward, gentle and sure, wrapping around them like sunlight breaking through rain.The sound of the river grew softer, sweeter.
Ha-rin's voice broke into a laugh that was half-sobbing. "Do you feel that?"
He nodded, eyes glistening. "Time's saying thank you."
They stood together, the air trembling with peace.The watch ticked one last time — forward — then stopped forever.
When the light faded, the sketchbook lay open on Ha-rin's lap.The drawing had changed.The two figures on the bridge were smiling, yes — but behind them, faint and transparent, the painter's daughter and the noble's son were walking away, hand in hand, into the sunrise.
Ha-rin touched the page, tears spilling freely now. "They're free."
Jae-hyun pulled her close, resting his forehead against hers. "So are we."
For a long while, they didn't speak.They didn't need to.Every heartbeat said everything words could not: we made it, finally.
On the drive back, she fell asleep against his shoulder.The sketchbook rested open on her lap, fluttering gently in the wind from the open window.
As they passed the edge of the village, a few jasmine petals drifted through the air and landed on the page.Their scent was faint, but unmistakable - like the memory of something forgiven.
Jae-hyun smiled quietly. "The scent of our yesterday," he whispered.
Ha-rin stirred, eyes half-open, smiling in her sleep.
And time, merciful at last, kept moving forward.