The sun dipped below the skyline of Seoul, dyeing the glass towers gold. Inside one of them—Daehan Tower—on the 64th floor, Jinhwan stood in his office, stiff and silent, staring at the message on his encrypted screen:
"The seal is cracking."
He didn't reply. Not yet. Instead, he stood in front of the window like a man waiting for lightning to strike.
Behind him, the sound of the elevator chimed. A soft rustle of footsteps followed. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
"I thought I told you to stay away from her," Jinhwan said, his voice dangerously calm.
Ian leaned against the doorway, his leather jacket slung over his shoulder. His hair was slightly damp—either from rain or a hasty shower. He looked tired. Or maybe tired of pretending.
"You also told her to forget you," Ian said coolly. "Yet here we are. Again."
Jinhwan finally turned.
There they were—two men born from legacy and blood, tangled in curses and choices neither of them truly understood. They weren't enemies. But they were no longer friends either.
"She went to the Mireuk temple today," Ian added, stepping into the office. "Did you know that?"
Jinhwan's jaw tightened. "I did."
"And you let her?"
"It's not about letting her. She's starting to remember. You know we can't stop it now."
Ian threw his jacket over a chair. "You say that like you're okay with it."
"I'm not." Jinhwan looked down at his hands. "But I've learned what happens when we try to interfere. Every lifetime we try to 'protect' her, it ends worse than before."
Ian moved to the window, standing beside him. "And what? You're just going to let her remember everything? Including the choice she made?"
"She deserves to know the truth."
Ian scoffed, but it lacked venom. "The truth killed her. Multiple times."
Jinhwan met his gaze, his voice quiet. "And lying hasn't saved her either."
---
Flashback – 300 Years Ago, Goryeo Dynasty
A soft rain had fallen over the palace grounds. In the shadow of the eastern pavilion, two figures argued in hushed voices.
"You can't ask her to choose," Ian—then called Inwook—said, gripping his friend's robes.
"She has to," replied Jinhae, voice weary. "She holds the seal's key. If I take it by force, the curse doubles."
"She's in love with you," Inwook whispered. "She'll choose you, even if it means dying."
"That's not love. That's manipulation."
"She won't survive it, Jinhae."
"She won't survive not choosing either."
They both turned toward the distant figure of a woman dressed in white, walking the temple path. The wind tugged at her sleeves, her steps slow, uncertain.
"She has to choose," Jinhae said again, like a prayer or a curse.
---
Present Day – Seoul
Ian rubbed his temples as the past faded. The memories had started returning more vividly lately. Not just in dreams. In flashes. Fragments. Like ghosts peering through a cracked mirror.
"Do you remember what she said the last time?" Ian asked quietly.
Jinhwan looked at him.
"She said, 'Don't make me choose between you and my freedom.'" Ian's mouth twisted bitterly. "And we still did."
Jinhwan turned away, his voice raw. "She died for it."
Ian nodded.
Silence lingered between them—thick and heavy with things unsaid.
Then Ian added, "She's remembering more than you think. The red thread is active again."
Jinhwan's head snapped up. "You're sure?"
Ian pulled a folded paper from his coat pocket and placed it on the desk. It was a polaroid—a photo of Haeun standing outside the Mireuk Temple, a faint red thread visible near her wrist, glowing faintly.
"She didn't see it. But I did. The seal's unraveling."
Jinhwan stared at the photo. "Then we don't have time."
"For what?"
"To fix what we broke."
---
Elsewhere – Haeun's Apartment
Haeun sat cross-legged on the floor, the old journal open in front of her. She had a cup of tea cooling beside her, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The city hummed outside her window, oblivious.
She had read the entire journal twice now.
It wasn't just a diary—it was a map. A collection of warnings. Pleas. Even instructions.
One line kept repeating throughout the pages.
"When the thread burns red, the heart remembers what the mind forgets."
And then:
"Do not let the seal fracture in hatred."
She didn't know what the seal was. Not really. But part of her did. Somewhere in her chest, where fear and knowing mixed, she could feel it. Like something coiled inside her had been sleeping too long.
And now it was waking up.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number:
"Do you remember the fire in the garden?"
Her hands trembled.
She replied: "Who is this?"
The response came instantly.
"A mistake you haven't made yet."
She dropped the phone.
---
Back in Daehan Tower
Jinhwan walked over to the hidden wall panel behind his bookshelf. He placed his hand on a small scanner. It beeped, then slid open.
Inside was a locked compartment. Inside that—wrapped in black silk—was a silver ring engraved with a phoenix and a sword.
The heirloom of his bloodline.
The seal key.
He hadn't touched it in years.
"I didn't want this life," he whispered, holding it tightly. "But I won't run from it anymore."
Behind him, Ian watched, silent.
"Then we need to prepare," Ian said. "Because if she chooses differently this time…"
Jinhwan looked at the ring, then at the skyline beyond the glass.
"…Then we all burn."