Daehan Tower – Evening
The building was quieter than usual.
Even from her office on the 40th floor, Haeun could feel it—that subtle shift in energy, like the building itself was holding its breath. The kind of silence that makes you question if you're truly alone.
She stood by the window, watching the skyline swallow the last light of day. The photo was in her hand again, worn at the edges from being touched too often. She hadn't shown it to anyone else, not even Yuri. It felt like a secret too heavy to share.
The red crane clip.
The vow.
The warning on the back in her own handwriting.
She should have felt crazy. She didn't. That scared her more than anything.
A knock at the door made her jump.
"Come in," she said, turning around.
It was Yuri, holding a folder and looking uncharacteristically pale.
"There's something you need to see," she said.
---
Moments Later – Haeun's Office
Yuri laid out the documents on Haeun's desk—old building blueprints, personnel files, and… a floor plan from 1997.
"Why are you showing me this?" Haeun asked.
Yuri hesitated. "Because someone accessed the private archive room last night. Your access card was flagged. But I didn't report it."
Haeun tensed.
"I know you're looking for something. I don't understand it yet," Yuri said softly, "but I trust you."
Haeun's chest tightened. "Thank you."
"There's more," Yuri continued. "This floorplan… it shows something weird. A sealed room behind the original shrine space—back when this building used to be a temple annex before the redevelopment. Look here."
She pointed to the faint outline of a room with no door.
Haeun stared at it. A memory stirred—like a bell being struck far off in the dark.
"I've seen this place," she whispered. "In my dreams."
---
Elsewhere – Ian's Apartment
Ian sat at his desk, thumbing through the inked pages of the prayer book. His fingertips paused at a specific sketch: a girl kneeling before a sacred stone, hands clasped, lips moving in a silent plea.
Below it, written in ancient Hangul, was a single sentence:
Those who pray to bind the soul must bleed to keep the promise.
He closed the book and leaned back, the shadows of the room long and restless.
"She remembers more quickly this time," he said aloud.
A voice answered, low and female—yet not fully human.
"Because the end is near."
Ian didn't flinch.
"I'm trying to prevent it," he said.
"She will have to choose."
"She always does," Ian murmured. "And it always breaks her."
---
Daehan Tower – Lower Sublevel (After Midnight)
Yuri had gone home, reluctantly. Haeun stayed.
She took the service elevator alone, using the old blueprint as her map. The digital controls didn't even list this level anymore, but her keycard worked. Barely.
The elevator jolted to a stop, and the doors opened to a dim corridor lined with stone walls, unlike anything in the upper tower.
She stepped into the hallway, breath caught in her chest.
Her footsteps echoed as she followed the map, each turn colder than the last. Eventually, she reached it—a narrow alcove with a blank wall. No door. No markings.
But the crane clip in her pocket grew warm.
She took it out, held it to the wall.
A pulse.
Then a line appeared, glowing faintly, and the wall split open.
Inside was a chamber no larger than a bedroom, filled with dust and the smell of ancient incense. At its center stood a low altar. Burnt offerings, petrified flowers, and at the back—etched deep into the stone—was the same vow from her dream.
We are one across time. We are flame that never dies.
Haeun's vision blurred.
She remembered kneeling here.
She remembered bleeding here.
She remembered loving here.
But she wasn't alone.
Behind her, a voice whispered, "You weren't supposed to come here."
She turned.
Jinhwan.
---
"You followed me," she said.
"You're not the only one who remembers this place."
He stepped into the room, eyes soft with sorrow, but firm.
"You used to come here every lifetime. Every time things began to unravel. You always hoped there would be a way to stop the cycle."
"And was there?" she asked.
"No," he said. "Only pain. Only choosing between us and peace."
She looked at the altar. "You told me Ian wants to undo the vow. What does that mean?"
"It means the next time you die, there won't be a return."
Silence.
Haeun sat beside the altar, unable to hold her weight.
"What if I want that?" she said.
Jinhwan knelt next to her. "Then I'll honor it. I've made peace with that. But I need to know it's your choice this time—not something you were pushed into. Not by me. Not by Ian. Not even by your past self."
Tears welled in her eyes, and she hated that he saw them.
"I don't know who I am anymore."
"You're still Haeun," he said. "You're just becoming the full version of her."
---
Elsewhere – A Hidden Room (Unknown Location)
Ian stood in front of an old mirror, the surface clouded with time.
A girl's face flashed across it—not Haeun now, but her first self. The shrinekeeper's daughter. She was smiling.
Ian's voice cracked. "I made you a promise too. I told you I'd protect you."
The mirror didn't respond.
He closed his eyes.
"I will," he whispered. "Even if it means losing you."
---
Back in the Altar Room
Haeun looked up at Jinhwan.
"If we have to break the curse," she asked, "what happens to everything we've been?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "But I'd rather lose eternity than watch you suffer through it again."
Her fingers brushed the altar.
Something inside her heart clicked. Not clarity—but readiness.
"Then let's find out the truth," she said. "Together."