It was supposed to be sunny according to the weather analysis, but it was raining. The fifth time this week.
Nari was asleep the whole morning after pulling three consecutive all-nighters. Jaemin left the house quietly.
The rain barely touched him, thanks to the subtle invisible veil of wind from the Core of Tempest. Droplets curved away from his body as he walked.
He made his way to a towering skyscraper, a luxury complex with polished black walls and a glowing nameplate that read Solstice Tower. Hood up, he entered the lobby, ignored the front desk, and stepped into the elevator. 14th floor.
His mind was empty through the ride. No thoughts. Just rain outside the glass wall of the elevator shaft.
He got out and walked to room 14B. He knocked once, then let himself in.
The room was more lavish than most five-star hotels. Marble floors, obsidian shelves, a view of the entire district. Near a massive black desk stood a man in a crisp, jet-black suit.
"Ah, Mr. Han. You made it."
The man said.
"Pleasure to see you again, Mr. Gyeongmin."
Jaemin replied as they exchanged a firm handshake.
"Seeing you here is a brilliant way to start my day. Tell me, Mr. Han, what can I help you with today?"
Gyeongmin gestured to the leather couch.
They both sat.
"I want to join that meet."
Jaemin said, straight to the point.
Gyeongmin smiled.
"Great. I'll sponsor you myself then."
Jaemin blinked. That fast?
"You're not even going to ask for my bio-data?"
"No."
Gyeongmin said flatly.
"I tend to judge the person, not their résumé. And from what I've seen... you're exactly the kind of person I trust to make waves."
Jaemin leaned back, a little unsettled—but not in a bad way.
Gyeongmin was an odd one. Honest to a fault, but clearly dangerous in a way Jaemin hadn't figured out yet.
"That's all?"
"That's all."
Gyeongmin confirmed.
"I'll handle the backend. Just show up when the date drops. And be ready. Some very important people will be there."
Jaemin nodded slowly.
"Important people?"
Jaemin asked.
"Oh, just a few well-known Coreborns here and there."
Gyeongmin replied, eyes scanning Jaemin lazily.
"But that's not really your concern, is it?"
Jaemin gulped down a dry swallow.
"What are you trying to imply?"
"Well."
Gyeongmin leaned forward slightly, voice dropping low,
"You're probably more interested in the insider details. Special Coreborn, right?"
Jaemin's chest tightened. His heart skipped a beat. Out of everyone… how the hell did he figure it out so fast?
"Don't panic."
Gyeongmin said, waving one hand dismissively.
"I'm not planning on sabotaging you or letting the world know. You can rest easy."
"But… how did you know?"
Jaemin asked quietly.
"I've been in this field since I was sixteen."
Gyeongmin said.
"I'm thirty-nine now. That's over two decades of dealing with Coreborn, scouting power, negotiating secrets. I've seen it all."
He tapped his temple.
"Your body language gave you away. The way you speak, how you lock eyes, even the way you shook my hand—it all spoke volumes. And let's be honest… your aura's too strong for a regular Coreborn."
Jaemin stayed silent, his gaze sharp, cautious.
"So."
Be said eventually,
"Why are you sponsoring me? You clearly have your own interests."
Gyeongmin smiled. A quiet, amused smile.
"Quick on your feet, I see."
"Anyways."
Gyeongmin said, adjusting the cuff of his suit.
"Before the actual meet, there will be a memorial service... for the public. So you need not concern yourself with that."
Jaemin's head tilted.
"Wait, why not? I should be attending to honor them as heroes. They lost their lives, didn't they?"
Gyeongmin paused mid-motion.
"More like lost themselves."
His tone was flat. Not cold, not emotional. Like he was stating a mathematical constant.
Jaemin's brows knit.
"What do you mean?"
Gyeongmin stood up from his seat and moved toward the edge of the terrace, watching the sun disappear behind the tower horizon. His voice came quieter, more calculated now.
"You're familiar with the names, right? Ryu Sangho. Im Nari. Bek Daehyun. The public thinks they died two years ago during the Depth Breach of Saebyeol Rift."
Jaemin nodded slowly. Those names weren't obscure—they were practically legends. Coreborn with over a decade in the field. Known faces. Honored ones.
"Only problem is."
Gyeongmin said.
"The Saebyeol Rift was closed successfully. No breach. No abyssal wipeout. No collapse."
Jaemin's stomach tightened.
"Then...?"
"They didn't die there. In fact, they weren't even part of the squad that deployed inside. That part was manufactured. What really happened."
Gyeongmin continued.
"Is they walked into something else entirely. A structure beneath the Saebyeol Rift. One that hadn't been documented. Something the Association called... The Lapis Chamber."
The name hit different. Soft and beautiful, but heavy with dread.
"No logs. No entry trail. No exfil. Just… silence. And a blackout in that section of the Rift. Twenty-two minutes. Surveillance wiped. Every trace of them gone—except their exit signatures."
Jaemin looked up sharply.
"They came out?"
"That's the thing."
Gyeongmin turned back to him.
"Their tags showed external sync re-entry twenty-two minutes later. But no one saw them. No cams. No witnesses. No confirmation."
He paused.
"Three months later, a scout team deployed in a nearby Rift found something sealed. A buried space. Metallic, but older than any structure we've catalogued. Covered in sigils no one could decode. Guess what it was tagged as internally?"
Jaemin swallowed.
"The Lapis Chamber."
Gyeongmin nodded.
"We think that's where they were taken. Or where they're still kept."
Jaemin's voice was low.
"So this memorial...?"
"It's theatre," Gyeongmin said flatly.
"The Association is doing this to give the people closure. But for those of us still watching the shadows... it's a reminder. A warning. A way of keeping the lie neat."
A pause.
"But here's the problem. Lately... that lie's starting to slip."
Jaemin didn't speak. He let the tension breathe.
Gyeongmin knelt down beside his briefcase, unlocked it, and pulled out a tattered cloth bundle. He unwrapped it carefully—revealing a fractured Core shard, still glowing faintly with pale indigo light.
"This was recovered from the northern sector of the Inhwa Rift two weeks ago. Embedded in the body of a Broodscale."
Jaemin blinked.
"So?"
Gyeongmin looked up.
"This Core fragment belonged to Bek Daehyun."
Silence hit like a body blow.
"We traced his aura signature through old records. This was his. Unmistakable. And the glow? It's... wrong. It's not fading. It's reacting."
Jaemin's voice was quiet now.
"Reacting to what?"
"To presence," Gyeongmin said.
"To names, voices, memory. As if the Core remembers him better than the world does."
Another pause.
"Next week," Gyeongmin continued.
"after the memorial ends, they'll hold a private resonance lock test in Sector 8. Only a few high-tier observers are allowed. You'll be there. Under the radar."
Jaemin frowned.
"Doing what?"
"Listening," Gyeongmin said. "If this shard responds the same way again, then we have our link. And maybe... a way to trace what's behind the Lapis Chamber."
"And if it doesn't?"
Jaemin asked.
Gyeongmin stood.
"Then they really are gone," he said quietly.
"Or something worse could back wearing their faces."
"So what exactly is this Lapis Chamber? Is it in your reach?"
Jaemin asked.
Gyeongmin's eyes didn't flicker. Didn't blink. He just… exhaled, slow and long. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable—it was calculated.
"No," he said.
"It's not in anyone's reach. Not anymore."
Jaemin's brow twitched.
Gyeongmin looked down, tapping the table twice with his index finger.
"The Lapis Chamber isn't a location. Not conventionally. It's a residue. A scar. A room that shouldn't exist, but does, like a bastard memory the world keeps trying to forget."
"…A memory?"
Gyeongmin nodded once.
"A Rift bloomed over Busan. Just like any other. Nothing special. A Tier 3 threat level. Sixteen Coreborn went in. Eleven came out."
Jaemin stayed silent.
"The five that didn't return were assumed KIA. Standard. Collateral. Their names are etched on the stone plaques outside every Association branch to this day. But something was wrong about that Rift. The five that vanished? They didn't die."
Jaemin's heart picked up again.
"They… walked into a room. At least, that's what one of the survivors said before he—" Gyeongmin caught himself. "Before we lost him somehow"
Jaemin leaned in slightly.
"What kind of room?"
"A cube. Seamless. Walls of raw, deep blue quartz—so vivid they bled light. Not glowing. Bleeding it. The survivor said the room had no doors. No shadows. No noise. Just… blue. He said it didn't feel like a place. It felt like a question."
Jaemin whispered.
"The Lapis Chamber."
Gyeongmin looked at him.
"We thought it was a one-time anomaly," he continued.
"But then it happened again. And again. Every few years, another Rift. Another set of 'lost' Coreborn. Same description. Same absence of explanation. The survivors either going mute or… completely off in to the unknown."
Jaemin shivered.
"But here's where it gets worse.
" Gyeongmin said, voice low.
"A few years ago, the Chamber appeared outside a Rift."
"What?"
"An unmarked zone in an abandoned subway platform under old Seoul. We detected a core disturbance—when we got there, the walls were blue. No entry, no exit. Just humming quartz and silence. It stayed for four minutes. Then it blinked out."
"…and no one went in?"
"We tried. One of our Class A operatives made contact. He touched the surface."
Gyeongmin paused.
"He screamed so hard his jaw dislocated. Never spoke again."
Jaemin felt cold.
"What the hell is it?"
"No one knows."
Gyeongmin leaned forward, voice clipped and steady.
"We call it a chamber, but the Chamber isn't just space. It's aware. Every appearance is tied to people who have either touched something ancient… or who possess potential that breaks the Association's metrics. Like Special Coreborn."
Jaemin froze.
Gyeongmin looked at him.
"I didn't just sponsor you for politics. I sponsored you because I think the Lapis Chamber will open again.
"So what's the whole point of this?"
Jaemin asked.
"Did no one get to the bottom of it?"
"It's not the kind of place you get to the bottom of," Gyeongmin muttered.
"People who try don't come back. Or they do… but not in the way you remember."
Jaemin frowned.
"It can't be more than a Rift anomaly, right?"
Gyeongmin tilted his head, lips tightening.
"Some have speculated otherwise. That it's not a Rift at all, but something older. Something dormant."
"A dormant Core?"
Jaemin asked.
Gyeongmin nodded, slowly.
"Unclaimed. Untethered. Undisturbed for decades—maybe longer. No flare. No bursts. Just... stillness. And underneath that stillness, something else."
He looked away for a beat.
"The kind of presence that doesn't rush to be found. That waits. That watches."
Jaemin stayed silent. Every word landed like an echo in a stone chamber.
"They say this Core—if it exists—doesn't amplify. Doesn't shield or strike. It undoes. It removes you from reality gently, as if it's erasing you from a photograph. You're not dead. You're just… gone."
Jaemin's throat went dry.
Gyeongmin went on, quieter now, as if unsure he should.
"Some even say—quietly, and never with proof—that in the right hands, it can stir the still. That what's been lost can be spoken to. Or worse... commanded."
He looked at Jaemin now, eyes heavy.
"Not just memory echoes. Not illusions. The dead. Moved like pieces on a board, bound by something none of us understand."
Jaemin's heart pounded.
"But that's just rumor."
Gyeongmin gave a tired smile.
"Isn't it always?"
Jaemin stood up and adjusted his clothes.
"I'll get going then?"
Gyeongmin nodded, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Absolutely, you can. But… I hope you're willing to help me get to the bottom of this."
Jaemin paused mid-step.
"And what if I decline?"
The smile widened — just a hair.
"Then you can kiss that sponsor goodbye."
Silence.
Jaemin's jaw flexed. He'd underestimated the man. Gyeongmin had played his card better than expected, right when Jaemin thought he still had room to move.
He turned back slowly.
"Fine. I'll help you."
His voice was flat, sharp, absolute.
"But if I'm doing this, I need all the info you've got. No hiding. And don't question my decisions."
It didn't matter to Jaemin who Gyeongmin used to be — whether he was respected, feared, or famous. This was a 50-50 deal, plain and simple. Mutual benefit.
Gyeongmin inclined his head, the smile now gone.
"Absolutely. I'll provide you with everything I'm allowed to share."
He stood.
"Meet me after the memorial service. We'll go over the briefing then."
There was one thing Jaemin felt certain of, despite everything else still clouded in suspicion:
Gyeongmin truly wanted to uncover the truth. Not for clout. Not for politics.
But because this was unjust. And the families of the Lost Coreborn deserved answers.