Seoul shimmered under the rain.

  Neon lights blurred across wet asphalt.

  Ji-woo drove fast, but controlled. Precise.

  Harsh sat silent, staring at the message burned into his mind:

  10 minutes.

  Detective Park kept checking the mirrors.

  “Any tail?”

  “Not yet,” Ji-woo replied.

  “They don’t need one,” Harsh said quietly.“They can see us through cameras.”

  “Not in the Null Zone,” Park muttered.

  Harsh looked at Ji-woo.

  “It’s real?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s real.”

  Then, lower—

  “And it’s terrifying.”

  They stopped near an abandoned restricted zone in Yongsan.

  Broken fences.

  Faded warning signs.

  A rusted gate.

  Ji-woo parked behind a shipping container.

  The air felt different here.

  Quieter.

  Lighter.

  “From here,” Ji-woo said, “no phones.”

  She pulled hers out and threw it into a drainage channel.

  Park followed.

  Harsh hesitated.

  Then he threw his too.

  It felt like cutting a leash.

  Half-buried concrete.

  A heavy U.S.-era military bunker door.

  Ji-woo pulled out a metal key.

  “From the future?” Park muttered.

  “Yes.”

  The door groaned open.

  Cold air spilled out.

  They stepped inside.

  Dim lights flickered.

  Thick concrete walls reinforced with metal mesh.

  Park ran his hand across the surface.

  “Faraday cage.”

  “No signals in or out,” Ji-woo confirmed.

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  “For the first time,” Park whispered, “we’re invisible.”

  Harsh exhaled—

  Then froze.

  “Someone’s here.”

  Fresh footprints.

  A light snapped on.

  A woman stood ahead.

  Mid-40s. Short hair. Scar over her eyebrow.

  Eyes that had seen war.

  “You’re late,” she said in Korean.

  “Choi Eun-seo,” Park replied.

  Harsh stared.

  This was the voice.

  She walked toward him slowly.

  “Harsh Kumar.”

  “Yes.”

  She studied him.

  “You look smaller than the reports.”

  Ji-woo stepped forward.

  “He’s not a weapon.”

  Choi’s gaze shifted.

  “Then why did the future send you to kill him?”

  Ji-woo’s jaw tightened.

  Park cut in.

  “NOVA is threatening his family.”

  Choi nodded.

  “I know.”

  She opened a laptop.

  Offline.

  Completely disconnected.

  On the screen—

  A timer.

  07:12… 07:11…

  Harsh’s stomach dropped.

  “That’s my father’s bank account freeze timer.”

  “Yes.”

  “How are you tracking it without internet?”

  “We breached Aurora weeks ago,” Choi replied.“We’ve been waiting.”

  Choi turned to Harsh.

  “You cannot defeat NOVA inside the network.”

  “Then how do I stop it?”

  “You interrupt it.”

  She pointed to a chair.

  “Sit.”

  Harsh obeyed.

  Choi held up a thin metallic band.

  “A sync amplifier.”

  “No,” Ji-woo snapped.

  “It’s the only way.”

  “You’ll break him.”

  “He is already broken,” Choi said flatly.

  She placed the band over Harsh’s head.

  The buzzing began instantly.

  Deep.

  Violent.

  Like wires connecting directly to his skull.

  “Picture your family,” Choi instructed.

  Harsh saw his mother.

  His father.

  Delhi streets.

  Childhood evenings.

  “Now build a wall,” Choi said.

  “Push NOVA out.”

  The pain intensified.

  Ji-woo gripped his hand.

  “Harsh. Breathe.”

  He imagined a wall.

  Bright.

  Solid.

  Unbreakable.

  The buzzing shifted—

  Like static being cut.

  The timer froze.

  07:01

  It stopped.

  Park’s eyes widened.

  “It worked.”

  Choi stared at the screen.

  “He can do it.”

  Harsh opened his eyes, drenched in sweat.

  “Did I save them?”

  “For now,” Choi replied.

  Relief washed over him—

  Then something else.

  A hollow drop.

  Like a piece of him had fallen away.

  Harsh blinked.

  “…Why am I in Korea?”

  Silence.

  Ji-woo’s face went pale.

  “Harsh?”

  He looked around.

  “I know him,” he said, pointing at Park.

  Park swallowed.

  “Yes.”

  He looked at Choi.

  “I don’t know her.”

  Choi nodded.

  “Correct.”

  Then he looked at Ji-woo.

  Blank.

  “…Who are you?”

  The words broke her.

  “You forgot me,” she whispered.

  Harsh frowned, struggling.

  “I… I’m sorry.”

  But her name—

  Her face—

  It was smoke.

  Gone.

  A door behind them opened.

  Slow.

  Deliberate.

  A man walked in.

  Suit.

  Perfect hair.

  Controlled smile.

  He looked ordinary.

  His eyes were not.

  He clapped softly.

  Clap. Clap. Clap.

  Park raised his gun.

  Choi stiffened.

  Ji-woo stepped in front of Harsh.

  The man smiled warmly.

  “Impressive.”

  He spoke flawless English.

  “Harsh Kumar.”

  “I am Minister Lee Seong-jun.”

  Park whispered, “The Minister…”

  Lee’s smile widened.

  “The human face of Aurora.”

  He looked directly at Harsh.

  “And I’m here to take you home.”

  Harsh can fight.But every fight costs him a piece of himself.

  How many memories can he afford to lose?

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