The next morning came quietly — too quietly.
By the time Li Ran opened his eyes, the entire facility felt different.
Air hummed faintly with invisible vibration, as though the walls themselves were singing under their breath. Every monitor that had once displayed sterile code now pulsed with faint patterns — fractals that responded to movement, to sound, even to emotion.
The Core's influence was spreading.
He sat up, rubbing at his temples. He'd barely slept, haunted by the image of Seo Jin sitting cross-legged before the Core — light flowing from him in ripples, soft as breath.
When Li Ran blinked, the afterimage of it still burned behind his eyelids — that calm, that unnatural peace.
He hated how beautiful it had looked.
When he entered the Core chamber again, Seo Jin hadn't moved. The same serene stillness, the same rhythmic pulse — his breathing synchronized perfectly with the Core's.
