The message blinked on her phone like a curse:
"This is your last warning. The loop ends tonight."
Shin Hae-won's fingers tightened around the phone. The warm air between her and Do-yoon, once thick with tension and desire, suddenly felt like glass—fragile, ready to shatter.
"What is it?" Do-yoon asked again, this time with more urgency. His hand rested at the small of her back, grounding her in the moment, but she could feel his heartbeat racing through his touch.
Hae-won hesitated. She could lie.
Or she could finally tell him the truth—every version of it.
"I've been getting messages," she admitted, voice low. "From someone. I don't know who. But they keep warning me about resets. About… you."
Do-yoon's brows furrowed. "Me?"
She nodded. "They say I need to leave you before everything resets again. Before I lose you… or myself."
His expression darkened. "And you believe them?"
"I don't know what to believe anymore," she said honestly, searching his eyes. "I've seen too much. I've felt too much. Memories that aren't mine—but are. Timelines that overlap, glitch, change. And you—every time, it's you I come back to. But the warnings… they scare me."
He gently took her phone, reading the message.
Then he did something she didn't expect.
He threw the phone across the room.
It hit the carpet with a soft thud and slid beneath the dresser.
"Do-yoon!"
"I'm done letting someone else decide how this ends," he said, voice sharp but not unkind. "We've lost each other enough. If this is our last loop, Hae-won, then let it be ours."
His eyes burned—not just with passion, but defiance. Like he was choosing her, despite the danger, despite time itself.
And in that moment, she realized she wanted to choose him too.
Even if it was reckless. Even if it broke the universe.
She reached for him—and he caught her.
Their lips met again, fiercer now, desperate. His hands roamed her back as he pulled her against his chest. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and he kissed her like he was making a promise through every breath.
Clothes slid away piece by piece, like pages torn from a story they were rewriting. Her shirt hit the floor, followed by his. Her skin burned where he touched her—worshipped her—with his lips, his hands, his gaze.
The world outside blurred. No warnings. No resets.
Just them. Here. Now.
Their bodies met in slow, aching rhythm, breathless and unafraid, each motion grounding them more in the present than any timeline ever could.
She moaned his name into the hollow of his neck, and he responded with a whisper of hers that felt like a vow.
Time bent for them. Slowed.
Until it stopped altogether.
---
🕰️ At exactly 2:47 a.m.
The clock on the wall flickered.
Then froze.
Hae-won jolted upright in bed.
Do-yoon stirred beside her, half-asleep. "What is it?"
She stared at the clock. 2:47.
It wasn't moving.
She reached for her phone under the dresser. The screen lit up.
Date: June 12th, 2025
Time: 2:47 a.m.
Battery: 99%
Signal: No service
Her stomach twisted.
She turned to Do-yoon. "The clock stopped."
He sat up slowly, brows furrowed. "What?"
"The message said tonight was the final loop," she whispered. "And now the time isn't moving. Something's wrong."
Do-yoon threw the sheets off and walked to the window. Outside, the city lights looked… frozen. Cars parked mid-turn. A leaf hovering in the air. A blinking streetlight paused between flickers.
Time really had stopped.
"No," he said under his breath. "This can't be—"
Knock. Knock.
They both turned.
There was someone at the hotel room door.
Hae-won wrapped the blanket around herself, heart in her throat. "Who would be here at this hour?"
Do-yoon moved to the door but didn't open it. "Who is it?"
A long silence.
Then—
"It's me," came a familiar voice. Cold. Calculated.
Seo Min-jae.
Hae-won rushed to the door. "Min-jae?!"
Do-yoon glared at her. "Don't open it."
But she already had.
Min-jae stood there, unfazed, dressed in a black coat. Behind him, the hallway lights were frozen mid-flicker.
"You broke the loop," he said. "Congratulations."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He looked at her like a teacher disappointed with a student. "You weren't supposed to choose yet. That night was a trigger. Now the timeline is collapsing."
Do-yoon stepped between them. "What did you do to her?"
Min-jae scoffed. "Nothing. She did it to herself. You both did."
Hae-won's voice trembled. "Why did time stop?"
"Because this version of the timeline has no future anymore. You skipped the sequence. You chose love over memory. Emotion over truth."
Her knees buckled slightly. "So what happens now?"
Min-jae walked into the room like he owned it. "You reset. Unless... you do what I tell you."
Do-yoon's fists clenched. "You think we're just going to listen to you?"
"No," Min-jae said coolly. "I think she will."
He pulled something from his coat pocket. A watch.
Not a digital one.
The same golden pocket watch from her fragmented memories. The one she remembered stopping time.
"Use this," Min-jae said, extending it to her. "One turn counterclockwise. You get to rewrite tonight. One turn clockwise, and you end the loops permanently. But the cost—"
"What's the cost?" Hae-won whispered.
"You forget everything," he said. "Everything you've remembered. Everyone you've loved."
Do-yoon's voice broke. "No. Don't touch it."
But Hae-won was already reaching out.
The watch was warm in her hands. Like it had a pulse.
"I can't keep living like this," she said, voice trembling. "I want peace. I want truth."
"Then choose," Min-jae whispered. "Turn it now."
Do-yoon's eyes locked with hers.
"Don't," he whispered. "Don't erase me."
Her hand hovered over the dial.
She had the power now.
To rewrite the night.
To escape the loops.
Or to lose them both.