Jae-Won stood at the threshold of the Chrono-Nexus chamber, the residual echo of his alternate self's scream still ringing in his ears. The glass pod that once held the twisted version of him now lay shattered, coolant and temporal fluid evaporating into the dim red light.
He clenched his fists.
"Why… were you waiting here? How many times have I died without knowing?"
No answer came—only the hum of decaying chronal energy fading behind him. But as he stepped forward, an interface blinked to life. Unlike the scattered recordings and logs above, this one addressed him directly.
> User Identified: Jaewon_K#1324
Access Level: Locked
Temporal Consistency Rating: 23%
Suggestion: Engage Memory Sync Protocol?
[Y/N]
Jae-Won hesitated. He'd never seen anything like this. A digital interface that recognized him—and not just him, but his specific timeline iteration? It confirmed what the Echo had said.
This wasn't the first loop.
It wasn't even the twentieth.
With a sharp breath, he pressed Y.
The world jolted.
A spike of heat slammed into his temple. His vision clouded, then scattered like glass. Images raced past—memories not his own, or maybe versions of his own. In one, he walked the ruins of Seoul alone. In another, he stood atop a mountain of broken machines with Ara's lifeless body in his arms. In a third, he sat in a cell, aged, eyes dimmed, whispering "Just one more chance…"
He fell to his knees.
This is… me?
The pain subsided, but something had shifted. His mind felt clearer—he could recall fragments of choices he hadn't made in this loop. Places he'd never been. Tactics he hadn't yet tried.
He understood now. The Glitch wasn't just a fluke.
It was an incomplete interface. A leak in a system too large to fully grasp. One meant to guide—maybe even trap—his repeated selves through a cycle of learning, trial, and failure.
He had been part of an experiment all along.
"You're syncing with your other selves," a voice said.
Jae-Won turned.
From the shadows of the chamber, a woman stepped forward. Her uniform bore the sigil of the Nexus Foundation—an organization erased from public records a decade ago. She looked young, but her eyes had the weight of someone who'd seen timelines break.
"You can call me Serin," she said. "I was your partner... once."
Jae-Won stared at her. His memories were still scrambled, but the name hit like thunder.
"I don't remember you."
"You will. Not all memories come back at once. But I've been waiting across three resets to find one version of you who'd make it this far."
She tossed him a small device. Sleek, circular—an older generation of his glitch trigger.
"That'll stabilize your jumps. If you want to survive the next loop… you'll need more than luck."
He caught it, eyes narrowing.
"You knew what was happening to me all along?"
"I knew parts. We were supposed to destroy the Nexus Project… together. But one of us broke the loop."
She stepped forward, her gaze fierce.
"Tell me, Jae-Won. Are you ready to break the cycle? Or are you still just trying to survive it?"
Jae-Won rose slowly, gripping the device.
"No more survival. I want answers. I want justice. And I want to make damn sure this is the last time I ever have to die."