The message glared back at her.
"They're watching. You're getting too close. Leave him before it resets again."
Shin Hae-won's fingers trembled as she clutched the phone tighter, pulse drumming against her ribcage. Her gaze flicked upward—to Do-yoon's worried eyes, to Min-jae's cold stare.
Someone out there was watching. Someone knew more than all of them.
"Hae-won?" Do-yoon said gently, reaching out to touch her wrist. "Are you okay?"
His touch grounded her, just for a second.
Until she remembered what that message meant.
Leave him before it resets again.
"Why would anyone warn me about you?" she whispered.
Do-yoon's brows knit. "What are you talking about?"
She hesitated. Should she tell him about the message?
Min-jae took a step forward, his voice calm but pressing. "It's starting. The timelines are unraveling. You've opened too many threads, Hae-won."
"Why am I the only one who keeps remembering everything?" she snapped.
"You're the center," Min-jae replied. "The constant."
Do-yoon frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It means," Min-jae said slowly, "that we're orbiting her. All of us. Our fates are tied to her decisions. If she chooses wrong..."
He let the words hang.
Do-yoon's jaw tightened. "You think she's a puppet?"
"No," Min-jae said. "She's the puppeteer."
The words struck Hae-won like a slap.
But before she could react, a sharp pain pierced the side of her head.
She gasped, clutching her temple as another vision stabbed into her mind.
---
A white hospital room.
She's strapped to a bed.
Min-jae is standing over her, whispering softly, "You weren't supposed to remember this timeline."
---
Hae-won jerked backward, the world spinning.
She stumbled into Do-yoon, who caught her against his chest, arms wrapping tightly around her.
"Hae-won," he murmured, voice thick with concern. "What did you see?"
She shook her head, unable to speak. The images were too fragmented. Too real.
She was beginning to lose track of which version was now.
And worse—she was starting to feel things for both men that didn't belong to this timeline. Emotions from other lives. Other endings.
She stepped back from Do-yoon, and for the first time, he looked truly afraid.
"You're slipping again," Min-jae said. "Your brain can't hold multiple realities much longer."
"Then help me fix it!" she snapped, tears burning the corners of her eyes. "Tell me what you know. All of it."
But Min-jae only gave her a small, sad smile. "You'll remember when you're ready. Or when it's too late."
He walked away, blending into the shadows like he was never there.
Hae-won stood frozen in place, chest heaving.
Do-yoon took her hand again, holding it tightly.
"I'm not letting you face this alone," he said softly. "Even if I'm not the man you remembered loving."
She looked up into his eyes, and for a second—just a second—there was a flicker of something in them. Something from another life.
"I remember you holding me," she whispered. "After I was shot."
His body stilled.
"I remember bleeding in your arms. You were crying."
He stared at her like she'd just said something impossible.
Then quietly, he said, "I've dreamed that. For years. I thought I was crazy."
"You weren't," she said. "It happened. Somewhere."
He stepped closer. So close she could feel the warmth of his breath.
"But it didn't happen here," he murmured, voice low. "So why do I feel like losing you would kill me... again?"
Her heart thudded.
Maybe it was the weight of all those unlived timelines. Or the heat of the present one colliding with forgotten futures. Maybe it was just them.
But when Do-yoon leaned in, his lips brushed hers—not in hunger, but in longing. As if he'd been waiting lifetimes for that moment.
And she didn't stop him.
Her eyes fluttered shut as his hand cupped her cheek, lips parting, deepening the kiss into something that set her nerves ablaze. The world faded. So did logic.
Just emotion. Just ache. Just him.
Their kiss was desperate and trembling, and when they finally broke apart, he held her like he was afraid she'd vanish.
"Stay with me tonight," he whispered.
Hae-won's breath hitched. "Do-yoon…"
"No more lies," he murmured against her ear. "Not in this lifetime. If this is our last reset, I want to spend it with you."
Her heart screamed yes, but her mind—
The message.
"Leave him before it resets again."
What if that night—what if staying—triggered the reset?
Would she lose everything again?
Still… her fingers reached up and curled around the edge of his jacket.
"If I stay," she whispered, "I don't want to forget."
His lips pressed to her forehead. "Then I'll help you remember. No matter how many times it takes."
She didn't answer, but when he reached for her hand, she didn't pull away.
---
🕯️ Later that night…
The door clicked shut behind them.
The lights were dim. The air electric.
Do-yoon stood behind her, hands hovering above her waist, waiting for her to make the first move.
When she turned to face him, her fingers found the collar of his shirt, and without a word, she leaned up and kissed him again—deeper this time.
Like she needed to prove to her heart this version was real.
His hands slid around her back, pulling her closer, breaths mingling as their bodies pressed.
He whispered her name against her skin like a prayer. Like he was memorizing it again. Her shirt slipped down her shoulder. His lips followed the path, reverent. Tense.
Then—
Her phone buzzed again.
New message: "This is your last warning. The loop ends tonight."
Her blood went cold.
Do-yoon looked at her. "What is it?"
She didn't answer. She looked into his eyes—and for a second, the room shimmered. Glitched.
Like the world itself was about to collapse.