The crimson waves didn't just rage—they boiled.
Jin Ha-yul stood in the middle of the Court, unmoving. Anger roared around him, red and raw, curling through the air like smoke from an unseen fire. The surface layer was saturated with fury.
But it didn't burn him. Not really. Emotions didn't reach him that way. He saw them, mapped them, understood their temperature and shape—but they never touched him.
"Unusual case," LUX's voice echoed from above. "The emotional imprint is unstable."
Ha-yul didn't look up. "Instability can mean many things."
"Correct. But in this case, the anger is layered."
He blinked. "Explain."
"Surface anger is volatile," LUX said. "But the core is obscured—something deeper is interfering."
Emotion wasn't flat. It layered like sediment, each memory and response forming a complex strata. What showed on the top wasn't always what lived underneath.
Ha-yul knelt, brushing his fingers against the current.
Red lashed out. Sharp, acidic. But thin. Too theatrical.
"This is anger meant to be seen," he murmured.
---
The chamber shifted.
He didn't need to turn to recognize the ripple. The Court did that when someone new arrived—especially someone like her.
Yoon Si-on stepped through the light barrier, her boots silent against the floor.
The Emotion Flow adjusted instantly. The red dimmed, swallowed slightly by muted earth tones—her residue. She wasn't just present. She was affecting the chamber.
"You're not assigned," Ha-yul said, still facing forward.
"Director Do approved it," she replied. "I requested to observe."
Her tone was calm. But her presence... wasn't.
Si-on always carried this warmth that seeped into the Flow, however slightly. It wasn't enough to taint the reading—but enough for Ha-yul to notice. And notice he did.
"This case doesn't need warmth," he said.
"Maybe it needs something different," she replied.
---
The victim was male. Late twenties. Known for aggressive behavior. The report noted workplace violence and isolation.
But the anger here wasn't personal. It was... too clean. Too detached.
"Anger is often impulsive," LUX added. "This feels programmed."
Ha-yul frowned.
He reached deeper. Past the red.
The light shifted again. A pulse of yellow flickered—caution. Then a faint gray—hesitation.
And then, something else.
Something black.
Thin as a crack. Thick as smoke.
"What is that?" Si-on asked.
Ha-yul didn't answer right away. He extended his hand again, deeper into the current.
The red parted around him. The black pulsed once—almost in recognition.
And there it was.
Burned into the lowest layer of the victim's Emotion Flow—
A mark.
---
A half sun.
Obscured. Darkened. Eclipsed.
Ha-yul's chest didn't tighten. His breathing didn't quicken. But he logged the anomaly with perfect clarity.
A symbol isn't an emotion.
It shouldn't exist in the Flow.
He stood slowly. "This isn't residual trauma. It's insertion."
"Like Park Min-ji's case," Si-on said quietly.
He nodded.
"Only this time, it's not just silence. It's branding."
LUX pulsed overhead. "This symbol does not match any current data index."
"Meaning it was never filed," Ha-yul said.
Or deliberately erased.
---
Back in the Center, the datapad flickered with the recorded scan.
Do leaned forward. "Two cases. Two insertions."
"It's not insertion," Ha-yul corrected. "It's substitution. They didn't suppress emotions. They replaced them."
Si-on remained quiet, but her gaze was locked on the symbol.
"I've seen this," she said suddenly.
Both men turned.
"In a dream," she added, voice distant. "Or maybe... a memory."
That changed the temperature of the room.
Ha-yul watched her carefully. Her tone was honest. But it carried something beneath it—like the Flow itself.
Unstable layering.
---
He returned to the chamber alone that night.
The Court was quiet. The red had faded. The layers settled.
But the symbol hadn't.
It lingered.
And as Ha-yul stood beneath the cold light of LUX, he didn't feel fear. He couldn't.
Still...
The Flow wasn't lying anymore.
It was trying to speak.
And someone else was listening.
→ [To be continued in Episode 5]
---
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