[Shin Hae-won – Present]
The message burned into her mind.
"He's alive. Not for long. -G"
Gwan-woo wasn't bluffing. That man never wasted words.
"He's taunting us," Min-jae said beside her, reading the message over her shoulder. His voice was low, controlled—but there was fury beneath it.
Hae-won gripped her phone tighter. "Then we hit first. What's the fastest way into the core dimension?"
Min-jae looked at her, surprised. "You're serious."
"You said the Core is where memory and soul converge, right? Where someone still alive—but fading—might be kept before deletion?"
He nodded slowly.
"I'm going in," she said. "I'll find him before he's gone."
Min-jae hesitated. "If you go there, there's a risk."
"I don't care."
"I do." He stepped closer. "You're not a thread in this—you're the weaver. If you collapse in the Core, no one can pull you out."
Her breath caught. Their faces were close again. Too close. Every time they stood like this, the world went quieter.
"Then come with me," she whispered.
Min-jae froze for half a second.
Then nodded.
"I'll walk through hell for you, Hae-won."
She didn't expect the way her heart jumped.
---
[Inside the Core Chamber – Seoul Temporal University Archives]
The door to the Core Dimension wasn't a portal—it was a neural dive. A mix of time, memory, and sensory override.
Min-jae strapped the headset onto her temple, fingers trembling slightly.
"You'll see his memories, but you'll also feel his body. His guilt. His love."
She met his eyes. "You'll be watching me?"
"I'll be anchoring you," he said. "If you get lost in him… I'll pull you back."
A silent beat passed between them.
"I trust you," she whispered.
And then—darkness.
---
[Do-yoon – Core Dimension]
Pain.
That was the first thing he felt. Not physical—but the ache of being forgotten.
One heartbeat at a time, pieces of him were vanishing. Not all at once. Worse. It was like watching your life fall out of a photo frame one picture at a time.
He sat beneath a red tree—a memory fragment—and watched his reflection fade in a puddle that didn't exist.
Then—
A breeze. A whisper. A voice.
"Hae-won?"
She appeared out of light.
Real.
Breathless. Glowing like a memory that refused to be erased.
He stood, stunned. "You… how—"
She ran into his arms before he could finish.
"I found you," she sobbed into his shoulder. "I found you."
He held her tightly, his entire being shaking. "You shouldn't be here."
"You shouldn't be erased."
Do-yoon pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were wild and warm, her hands pressed to his chest like she was afraid he'd vanish again.
"You came into the Core," he whispered, awe-struck. "That's impossible."
"I'm sick of possible," she said fiercely. "I'm sick of fate and time and men in suits thinking they know how my story ends."
He laughed softly.
Then froze.
A crack ran through the sky. The red tree began withering.
"They know you're here," he said. "We don't have long."
Hae-won grabbed his hand. "Then let's run."
And for a moment, they did.
They ran through memory threads—his first bike ride, the day he failed his college entrance exam, his first kiss (not her), his second kiss (definitely her).
Each memory flickered like fireflies.
Until they reached the center.
A glass house filled with flickering photos.
His life.
Their life.
And in the center—
A clock.
Counting backward.
00:04:36…
"Do-yoon…" Hae-won breathed. "That's how long you have left."
---
[Min-jae – Monitoring Room]
Her vitals spiked.
Min-jae cursed. "Don't feel too much," he muttered under his breath. "Feel him—but come back to me."
He didn't realize how tightly he was gripping the terminal's edge.
Watching her reach for Do-yoon in that memory space made something ache in him.
He didn't have five years of love with her.
He only had five weeks of watching her undo destiny.
But somehow, that already felt like more than fate.
---
[Core Dimension – Final Moments]
Do-yoon turned to her, breathing hard. "You can't save me without consequences."
"I don't care," Hae-won said, pressing her palm to the memory clock. "What happens to you happens to me."
The clock responded—flashing LINK INITIATED.
And suddenly, she felt him. Every moment. Every tear. Every desire.
She gasped.
His hands were on her face. "Hae-won…"
"Don't vanish," she whispered, lips brushing his. "Not before I say it."
"Say what?"
She kissed him. Deep. Slow. Like a goodbye and a promise tangled together.
When they pulled apart, her forehead rested on his.
"I still love you, Do-yoon."
But just as he opened his mouth—
The glass house shattered.
And Gwan-woo's voice echoed:
"You weren't supposed to remember him."