Qin Mian saw it before anyone said a word.
Not the drones.
Not the alarms.
Him.
Yin Lie was still standing—but the way he stood was wrong.
Too straight.
Too still.
Like a structure that had forgotten why it was holding itself up.
Blood ran freely now, tracing thin lines down his jaw, dripping onto the floor without sound. His breathing was shallow, irregular, each inhale a fight against rules that no longer agreed with his body.
He was burning.
Not outward.
Inward.
"Lie," she whispered.
He turned his head toward her slowly, like the motion had to pass through something heavy first.
"You okay?" he asked.
The question almost broke her.
She nodded quickly, even as her left arm still felt distant, unreal.
"I'm fine."
A lie.
But not the important one.
What She Finally Understands
Kai was already moving, scanning the corridor, listening to the city's response time.
"They're recalibrating," she said tightly.
"Bigger net. Cleaner rules."
Yin Lie nodded faintly.
"I can hold them," he said.
"For a bit."
That was the lie that mattered.
Qin Mian stepped closer.
Every instinct screamed at her to stay.
To grab him.
To anchor him again—no matter the cost.
And for the first time since everything began—
she didn't.
Because she finally saw it.
Every time she stayed,
he chose to burn instead of bend.
Every time she held on,
he chose to stand instead of survive.
And if she stayed now—
he would not stop.
The Choice No One Taught Her
"Lie," she said softly.
He looked at her.
Really looked.
The emptiness in his eyes softened, just a fraction.
"Yeah?"
She took a breath.
Let it out slowly.
"You can't protect me if I'm here."
His brow furrowed.
"What are you—"
"If I stay," she continued, voice shaking but steady,
"you'll keep breaking yourself."
Kai froze.
Yin Lie shook his head once.
"No," he said.
"I choose that."
"That's exactly why," Qin Mian replied.
She reached up and touched his chest lightly.
Just once.
The Anchor stirred instinctively—
and she stopped it.
The field went quiet.
Fully.
"I'm choosing something too," she said.
The Moment She Steps Away
She stepped back.
One step.
The space between them felt enormous.
Yin Lie's hand twitched.
"Mian," he said sharply.
"Don't."
Tears blurred her vision.
"I'm not leaving you," she said quickly.
"I'm leaving the situation that's killing you."
Kai's eyes widened.
"You're going to surrender," she said.
Qin Mian nodded.
"Not to them," she replied.
"To time."
She turned toward the branching corridor—one that led deeper into city-controlled zones.
"They'll follow me," she said.
"I'm the unstable variable."
Yin Lie took a step after her.
The ground screamed.
He staggered.
She flinched—but didn't turn back.
"That's why you can't come," she said, voice breaking.
"You're not allowed to move anymore without tearing reality."
The Anchor Breaks Cleanly
For the first time—
she let the Anchor go completely.
No tension.
No correction.
No silent holding.
The bond didn't snap.
It unraveled.
Thread by thread.
Yin Lie felt it like losing gravity.
He fell to one knee.
Not from pain—
from absence.
"Mian!" he shouted.
She stopped.
Just for a second.
She didn't look back.
"If you follow me," she said softly,
"you die."
That did it.
He froze.
Because he believed her.
Why This Hurts More
Kai moved fast.
She grabbed Qin Mian's arm.
"Are you sure?" she asked lowly.
"Once you step past that point—"
Qin Mian nodded.
"I know."
Kai swallowed.
"You won't be anchored."
"I already wasn't," Qin Mian said gently.
She looked back once then.
Just once.
Yin Lie was on his knees, head bowed, fists clenched so hard they shook.
Not defeated.
Restrained by love.
"I'll come back," she said.
He lifted his head.
Her face burned into him.
"Don't wait," she added.
Then she turned and ran.
After She's Gone
The corridor swallowed her.
The city reacted instantly.
Attention snapped away from Yin Lie—
toward the moving anomaly.
Kai swore.
"It worked," she said.
Yin Lie didn't answer.
He stayed where he was, breathing ragged, blood dripping steadily.
The burning inside him slowed.
Not stopped.
Contained.
By loss.
"She chose me," he said finally.
Kai closed her eyes.
"Yes."
"And I couldn't stop her."
"No," Kai replied quietly.
"You couldn't follow her."
Silence fell.
Not peaceful.
But final.
Above them, the city redirected its hunt.
Ahead of them, Qin Mian ran—alone, unanchored, injured—into territory that did not forgive mistakes.
And behind her—
Yin Lie remained.
Alive.
Because for the first time—
someone else had chosen to leave him behind.
Not out of fear.
But to save him.