The air tasted metallic when I stepped out of the tunnel.Every breath left a thin trail of frost, though the sky above was burning crimson.Two suns hung there—one steady, one flickering in and out of existence like a dying bulb.
[Scenario 3 — The Split Thread / Status: Unstable][Objective: Find the anchor point before narrative collapse.]
The system's voice sounded frayed, words stuttering between lines of static.Do-hyun was already on the surface, scanning the ruins with that same glacial calm.The pipe in his hand glowed faintly from residual heat.
He didn't look at the sky.He looked at me."You said there were older versions," he said. "How many?"
"Too many," I murmured.I could still see the ghosts of those other worlds—streets where buildings stood at different angles, faces that almost matched the ones I knew.They flickered like bad memories around the edges of my vision.
Do-hyun's jaw tightened. "And this one?"
"This one's still being written."
The streets bent around us, looping back into themselves.A sign that read Market Road appeared three times on the same block.Each time we passed it, the graffiti on its side changed—different colors, different words.
The last one read: YOU ARE THE DRAFT.
[Observer Activity: 2.43 %.][System Integrity: Declining.]
Do-hyun stopped suddenly. "There."He pointed toward a tower at the end of the street—a steel skeleton, pulsing with blue light between its beams.
"That's where the anchor will be," I said automatically.The words left my mouth before I realized I hadn't meant to say them.
He turned his gaze on me—cold, unreadable. "You sound sure."
"I—read about it," I started.
His stare didn't soften. "There's nothing left to read, Jiho."
We reached the tower.Inside, the air shimmered like heat over asphalt.Fragments of other Scenarios hung suspended—sections of forest, a fragment of ocean, a stairway leading into nothing.The system's code was literally tearing through dimensions.
At the center, a figure knelt—its body made of glassy shards, each one reflecting a different world.When it lifted its head, I saw a dozen faces inside it, all mine.
[Anchor Entity: Reader Derivative #4][Status: Corrupted / Stabilizing loop failed]
The glass-Jiho spoke in overlapping tones:"You shouldn't have remembered the ending. The story isn't ready for one."
Do-hyun moved before I could react.He swung the pipe through the figure's chest, shattering it.Shards scattered across the floor, glowing briefly before dimming.
[Anchor disrupted.][Reality fold detected.]
The ground tilted.Buildings stretched, doubled, then folded into each other like paper.Every breath came with an echo of another voice—mine, whispering from worlds that no longer existed.
Do-hyun grabbed my shoulder, steady, commanding. "Focus."
"I can't—"
"Focus," he repeated, colder. "Whatever this place is, it wants you lost in it."
His grip anchored me.The world steadied just enough for me to see new text rising in the air.
[Reader Anomaly Confirmed.][Protocol Shift — Primary Directive: Containment.]
Something clicked in the sky.The suns merged into one, and a beam of light fell directly on me.
Do-hyun stepped between it and me instinctively, pipe raised, the light outlining the edges of his frame.For the first time, I saw hesitation in him—a question he hadn't voiced until now.
"Jiho," he said quietly. "Are you the reason this world exists at all?"
I opened my mouth, but the system answered first.
[Origin Identified: Subject Han Jiho / Narrative Core Detected.][Scenario 3 will terminate upon subject's neutralization.]
Do-hyun's expression didn't change.Only his grip tightened on the weapon.
The beam fractured.Lightning split the ground between us.He didn't move closer, but he didn't lower his weapon either.
"I need to know," he said. His voice stayed calm, ice over something sharp. "If killing you resets this—would it end the loop?"
I stared at him through the trembling light.In a hundred versions of Heaven Falls Twice, I had read this same moment—the confrontation between allies when truth began to crack the world.But this time, the script didn't exist.
"No," I whispered. "If you kill me, it starts again."
For the first time, Do-hyun's expression flickered—not anger, but a faint, grim understanding.
"Then we keep moving," he said. "Until we find a version that survives."
The beam vanished.The world stilled.
[Scenario 3 Progress: 27 %.][Story Divergence: 3.01 %.][Warning: Observers approaching critical range.]
Do-hyun turned away, voice low."Next time, don't wait for me to ask the hard questions."
And as we stepped into the twisting streets again, I heard the echo of the broken anchor whisper from behind:
There are no versions that survive. Only ones that remember.