Chapter 26: Fractures of Memory
The city was still as ever—skies blanketed in dull grey, buildings humming softly with hidden wires and artificial light. But inside Joon, a storm was raging.
The memory fragment had returned again.
A hand—soft, warm—reaching out from a swirling burst of light. A voice, gentle but broken: "I choose you... because you still feel."
And then, nothing. The image disappeared like mist under sunlight. It left behind a dull ache, like he had lost something he never knew he had.
Joon sat by the hollowed-out metro station with Sohyun and Rin, who were quietly debating about the next route into the central control grid. Sohyun's gaze kept flicking toward him.
"You're zoning out again," she said.
Joon blinked. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Rin folded his arms. "Your mind reading—your powers—they're acting up again, aren't they?"
Joon didn't answer. His silence was all the confirmation they needed.
Ever since he had begun to feel emotions more deeply again—ever since Haneul's death—the voices in his head had started slipping. Instead of clear, organized thoughts, he began to receive flashes, echoes, and names he didn't recognize.
But the most confusing part? He remembered meeting someone before Rin and Sohyun. A girl. Someone important. But every time he tried to remember, his mind hit a wall.
That wall felt... built. As if someone had placed it there intentionally.
"Let's focus," Rin interrupted his thoughts. "The signal we picked up from the underground server—it leads to the Archives. It might have the original history records. Before the Architects restructured everything."
"The Archives are a graveyard," Sohyun warned. "It's where failed resistances disappear."
Joon straightened. "Then we don't fail."
Hours later, they moved silently through decaying tunnels. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting eerie glows on the cracked walls. Joon's footsteps felt heavier with each step, not from fatigue—but anticipation.
Something was waiting.
As they reached the steel doors of the Archives, Joon felt an overwhelming urge to turn back. Not fear—something else. A whisper, almost familiar.
Don't look too far. You might remember.
The doors hissed open.
Inside, the Archives stretched like a forgotten cathedral. Giant data towers reached into the darkness above, each filled with compressed memories—files, visuals, documents.
Rin pulled out his device, trying to link to a terminal. "This place is ancient. If anything survived the blackout, it's in here."
Joon wandered toward a smaller screen flickering weakly.
He pressed a finger to it, and it came alive.
A file opened:
PROJECT: WISH STONE
Joon's heart skipped.
Lines of code. An image of a crystal glowing faintly. Then—her face.
The girl.
The one he couldn't remember.
But now, there she was. In the file.
"Subject: Yuna. Designation: LIAISON. Status: Missing."
Yuna.
The name hit him like a wave. It echoed through the chambers of his mind. He staggered back.
Sohyun ran over. "What did you see?"
He shook his head. "I... I don't know."
He did.
Yuna was the one who brought him here. The one who had the Wish Stone. The one who chose him.
Why couldn't he remember all this?
As he stepped away from the screen, the lights in the Archive began to flicker erratically. Then, a chilling voice rang out.
"Unauthorized access detected."
Rin cursed. "They've triggered a Sentinel."
A mechanical groan reverberated through the hall.
From the shadows, a towering machine emerged—its body forged from jagged metal, its face blank and smooth.
"Run!" Sohyun shouted.
But Joon stood frozen. In the Sentinel's blank face, he saw a shimmer of something else.
Not steel.
Eyes.
Eyes like Yuna's.
Back in the control hub far away, the Architects watched through fractured monitors.
"The boy is starting to remember," one murmured.
"He wasn't meant to."
"And yet... it begins."