The walk back to campus was quiet.
Sunwoo didn't press her. He kept a respectful distance, his hands tucked into the pockets of his light jacket, and Haeun couldn't stop glancing at him from the corner of her eye. The weird moment at the café still clung to her skin like humidity.
Her wrist had burned. Glowed.
He'd seen it too. He hadn't acted shocked. Just… concerned.
Like he knew what it meant.
She stopped walking. "Who are you, really?"
Sunwoo paused, then turned to face her. His smile was gentle but lacked the softness from before.
"I'm someone who understands what it feels like to be hunted by something you can't name."
"That's not an answer."
He studied her for a moment. Then his gaze shifted up to the sky—clouds rolling in low, Seoul's ever-changing weather mimicking her anxiety.
"Do you believe in reincarnation?" he asked softly.
"I don't know. I didn't think I did," she answered honestly.
"But now?"
"I'm starting to think... maybe I should."
Sunwoo nodded, more to himself than her. "Then you already understand more than most."
The wind picked up, rustling leaves across the sidewalk. In that breeze, something ancient stirred—something that didn't belong to the modern world of concrete and glass.
Haeun felt it like a weight behind her ribs.
"Tell me the truth," she said, voice steady. "Why did my wrist glow? And why do I keep having these… flashes?"
Sunwoo's expression darkened slightly. "Because your soul is waking up."
She blinked. "Waking up?"
"You've lived before, Haeun. You've loved before. And you've died before. Violently."
A beat of silence.
The kind of silence that seems to stretch through time.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she asked quietly.
"No," he said. "But it might help you stay alive this time."
---
Meanwhile – Hanwol Group's Executive Floor
Jinhwan tapped his pen against the polished desk, the sound echoing louder than it should have in the tense silence of the room. The meeting had ended fifteen minutes ago, but he hadn't moved.
The document in front of him wasn't related to mergers, or stocks, or boardroom politics.
It was a photograph.
Black and white. Clearly aged.
In it, a woman who looked exactly like Haeun stood beneath a cherry blossom tree, wearing a hanbok embroidered with foxes.
Next to her stood a man who looked like him.
Not a little.
Exactly like him.
Their hands were bound by red silk. Their smiles didn't reach their eyes.
Jinhwan leaned back in his chair, staring at the photo like it might blink.
"How is this possible?" he muttered.
Ian, standing beside him, looked grim. "That photo came from the hidden vault your grandfather sealed before his death. No one's touched it in years. Not even the board knew it existed."
Jinhwan traced the edge of the photo with his finger. "She looks just like her."
"And you look like the man she married," Ian added. "The resemblance isn't coincidental."
There was a pause.
"Sir," Ian continued, choosing his words carefully, "what if… what if the curse isn't just about bloodlines or wealth? What if it's about choices repeating?"
Jinhwan didn't answer immediately.
Because deep down, he'd already wondered the same.
---
Late Afternoon – Han River Walkway
Haeun sat on the edge of a concrete ledge, legs dangling above the gentle ripples of the Han River below. Her coffee had gone cold. The paper cup sat beside her, untouched.
She hadn't told anyone where she was.
Not her roommate.
Not Sunwoo.
Definitely not Jinhwan—not that he'd care.
Except… something told her he would care now.
The ring on her finger pulsed once, faint but unmistakable. Like it recognized her fear.
She slipped it off and held it up to the sunlight. "What are you?" she whispered.
The wind shifted. The air shimmered faintly, and for a split second, she saw her own reflection in the water morph—
—into a woman in traditional garb, tears streaking down her face as she whispered the same question: What are you?
Haeun gasped and nearly dropped the ring into the water. Her grip tightened instinctively.
"You shouldn't be here alone," came a deep voice behind her.
She turned sharply.
Jinhwan.
Dressed in a dark coat, his black hair tousled by the breeze, his face unreadable—but his eyes were locked on the ring in her hand.
"Were you following me?" she asked, standing up defensively.
"No," he said. "Yes. Kind of."
"That clears it up."
He took a step closer. "You're in danger, Haeun. That ring isn't just a trinket."
"I figured that out when it burned me alive during coffee," she snapped.
He paused, surprised. "It reacted?"
"Oh, so you do know what it is," she said, eyes narrowing. "Start talking."
Jinhwan sighed and sat on the ledge beside her, putting just enough distance between them to show respect.
"My family has protected that ring for generations," he began. "It belonged to the first woman bound to our curse. A woman who chose a man she wasn't supposed to love."
Her throat tightened.
"Was it you?"
"In that life? I think so," he said. "I didn't believe in any of this. Until I saw you."
She swallowed, hard.
"So what does it mean?" she asked, quieter now.
"It means," he said, voice low, "that history is repeating. And this time, we have to change the ending."
---
Later That Night – Rooftop of Haeun's Building
She stood under the stars, the city humming below. The ring was back on her finger.
This time, it didn't burn.
It pulsed slowly—calm, steady. Like a heartbeat.
Like a reminder.
Jinhwan's words echoed in her head: We have to change the ending.
And for the first time, Haeun didn't feel like she was running from something.
She was running toward something.
Her past.
Her truth.
And maybe… just maybe… her fate.