The photograph trembled slightly in Haeun's hand.
Her breath came in shallow waves, as if her body was trying to keep up with her mind. In the picture, the little girl she used to be smiled so brightly, unafraid. That girl had no idea what a curse was. She had no memory of fire or dreams or a boy who'd hold her and let go in the same breath.
That girl didn't know pain.
But she—standing here now in the middle of Daehan Tower's polished marble lobby, staring at a stranger who claimed to know her from a life she didn't remember—did.
"I don't understand," she whispered.
Ian didn't push. His eyes softened. "You will."
She looked up at him, trying to find some anchor, something solid to grab onto.
"How do you know me?"
He looked away for a moment, collecting himself like someone deciding how much truth to reveal to a person on the edge.
"I knew you before you were you," he said quietly. "And I've been watching you for a long time. Waiting."
"Why?"
"Because I couldn't save you last time."
Her mouth opened, then closed again. "And Jinhwan?"
Ian's jaw tightened.
"You were both caught in it. Over and over. Always drawn together, always torn apart. I used to think fate was a romantic idea. Turns out, it's more cruel than kind."
Something about the way he said Jinhwan wasn't just sad—it was heavy. Like a stone he'd been carrying for lifetimes.
"You sound like you blame him."
Ian hesitated. "I don't know if I blame him... or if I envy him."
That hit Haeun like a quiet storm. She clutched the photograph closer to her chest.
"I need answers," she said.
"I'll give you what I can," he replied. "But I won't lie to you—it's not just about you and Jinhwan anymore. It never was."
---
Daehan Tower – Upper Level Conference Hall
Jinhwan stood before the long glass wall overlooking the Han River. The rain had picked up now, blurring the skyline into gray watercolor strokes.
Min entered silently behind him.
"She spoke to Ian."
"I know," Jinhwan said, not turning around.
"He gave her the photo."
"I know that too."
Min stepped closer. "And you're still not going to interfere?"
Jinhwan finally turned. His expression was unreadable. But there was a weight in his voice when he spoke again.
"If I stop her from learning the truth now, I become the villain again."
Min frowned. "And if Ian's truth turns her against you?"
"Then maybe I deserve it."
Silence stretched between them. Old silence. The kind between people who had survived things without ever speaking of them.
"She still trusts you," Min said.
"Not for long."
---
Haeun's Apartment – That Night
Rain tapped against the windows as Haeun sat cross-legged on her couch, the photo on the coffee table in front of her. Her laptop was open, screen filled with search tabs: Daehan family history. Strange symbols in Korean folklore. Recurring dreams past life memory.
But the search gave her nothing real.
Only Ian's voice lingered in her head.
"I couldn't save you last time."
She stared at the picture again. Something about her younger self unsettled her now. There was innocence there, yes—but also something else. A brightness she hadn't seen in herself in years.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number:
> Don't trust what he tells you until you hear it from me first.
Rooftop. Midnight.
Her heart skipped.
It had to be Jinhwan.
---
Midnight – Rooftop of Daehan Tower
The rain had stopped. The rooftop garden glistened under the pale glow of Seoul's city lights. Wet stone. Silver moonlight. The scent of soaked roses clung to the air.
He was already there when she arrived.
She approached slowly. He didn't speak until she was close.
"You met Ian," Jinhwan said.
"Yes."
"You have questions."
"I have too many."
He turned to face her fully. His suit jacket was gone, shirt sleeves rolled up, as if he'd been up here thinking for hours.
"Ian's not wrong," he began. "But he's not always right either."
She folded her arms. "Then tell me your version."
He looked at her, tired. Honest. "I loved you. Every time. Every life. Even when I wasn't supposed to."
Her chest tightened.
"And the curse?"
"It's tied to all of us. You, me, Ian… others. We were part of something we shouldn't have touched. Centuries ago. A ritual that gave us power, but cost us our souls."
"So now we just keep... what? Being reborn and suffering?"
Jinhwan nodded slowly. "Until we break it."
"Can we?"
He stepped forward, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him.
"This time feels different."
"You said that in my dream," she murmured. "On the stairs."
"That wasn't a dream," he said.
Her eyes widened.
He raised a hand but didn't touch her. "I don't want to scare you. I just want you to know… I'm trying."
For a second, she wanted to reach for him. But the photo in her pocket weighed too heavily.
"Trying isn't always enough," she said softly.
He nodded. "I know."
---
Far away, in a quiet room lit by candlelight
Ian unfolded another photo. This one was torn. The edges burned. It showed a woman kneeling at a shrine. Haeun's face—but older. Wiser. Worn.
He lit a match.
Let it hover.
Then blew it out.
"Not yet," he said.