The slamming against the door didn't stop. It became a rhythm, a heartbeat made of splintering wood. THUD. THUD. THUD.
"Min-ho... open up. You're being... inefficient," the voice from the hallway distorted, sounding like a skipping record.
Hana was trembling so hard the ledger fell from her hands. "That's not a person," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the black shadow seeping under the door like spilled ink. "That's... that's a nightmare."
Min-ho didn't waste time explaining. He knew exactly what this was. The "Correctors." Every time he tried to change the script too drastically, the universe sent something to reset the board. In the 14th loop, it had been a "gas leak." In the 67th, a "random" robbery.
But this? This was the first time the loop had sent something with his father's voice.
"To the private lift. Now!" Min-ho grabbed her hand.
He didn't care about Rule Number Two anymore. The heat of her palm was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. He pulled her toward the sleek, mirrored doors of his private elevator at the back of the office.
He slammed his thumb against the biometric scanner. Invalid. Invalid. Invalid.
"Come on, you piece of junk!" he hissed.
The oak door behind them finally gave way. It didn't swing open; it shattered into a thousand grey moths that dissipated into the air. Standing in the doorway was a tall figure in a charcoal suit. Its face was a blur of static, like a television tuned to a dead channel, but it wore his father's favorite gold watch.
"Min-ho," the Static Man said, stepping into the room. The floorboards turned to ash where he stepped. "You're breaking the rules. Lee Hana must die at 10:14 AM. You're three minutes late."
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open. Min-ho lunged inside, dragging a catatonic Hana with him. He smashed the button for the basement, the furthest point from the roof.
"Hold on to me," Min-ho commanded.
"Where are we going?" Hana gasped, her voice cracking. "The basement? We'll be trapped!"
"We aren't going to the basement," Min-ho said, his eyes fixed on the floor indicator.
The numbers on the digital display began to spin backward. 40... 39... 1... 0... -1...
The elevator didn't stop. It dropped with a stomach-churning lurch, but the feeling of falling didn't end. The mirrored walls of the lift began to ripple like water.
"Close your eyes!" Min-ho yelled, pulling her head into his chest.
When the doors finally slid open, the smell hit them first. It wasn't the sterile scent of the lobby. It was the salty, sharp tang of the ocean and the smell of roasting corn.
Hana opened her eyes and gasped.
They weren't in the basement. They were standing on a wooden pier. The sun was setting over a shimmering blue sea, casting long, orange shadows. It was beautiful, serene, and utterly impossible.
"Jeju Island?" Hana whispered, looking at her clothes. She was no longer wearing her rain-dampened trench coat. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress. "How... I don't own this dress."
Min-ho stepped out onto the pier, his face pale. He looked at his own clothes, a casual linen shirt he hadn't worn in years.
"We've fallen into a memory," he said, his voice hollow. "This is the 42nd loop. This is the day I took you here to escape the city."
He looked at the end of the pier, where a younger version of himself was sitting on a bench, laughing. Next to him was another Hana, her hair blowing in the wind, looking radiantly happy.
"We have to move," Min-ho said, his grip on her hand tightening until it hurt. "The Static Man will follow us here. And in this memory, the pier collapses in ten minutes."
Hana looked at the happy couple on the bench, then back at the exhausted, haunted man holding her hand.
"Min-ho," she said, stopping him. "In that loop... did I love you?"
Min-ho turned, the setting sun catching the tears he could no longer hide. "You did. And that's why the world killed you."