The chamber was quiet again, except for the faint whir of the holographic screen coming from the Micro-Drive. But the high-pitched static from the surveillance drone was still loud to Julian (in Eliza's body). It was the sound of Sol-Ah's revenge circling the mountain. The sound felt like tiny needles digging into his ear drums.
"We have to focus on the Code, not the drone," Eliza (in Julian's body) commanded, her voice raw and tired. "They are looking for movement. As long as we are still, they only have the car's old signal." She slammed her heavy fist on the stone altar—a small, angry action that felt totally strange to her. The massive hand left a fine dust trail on the altar's surface. Eliza felt a wave of frustration; even her anger was clumsy in this huge body.
Julian nodded, his heart hammering hard in Eliza's small chest. The rapid, frightened beat made the whole small body tremble slightly. He looked at the glowing symbols displayed above the stone altar. The symbols were ancient, a complex mix of star maps and old Titan company laws. "The language is older than the Syndicate," he murmured, the words feeling thin and weak. "I can only recognize the main root-words, the ones Julian used in his earliest documents." He realized he needed the focus of a CEO, but he was stuck in a body that was panicked and fragile.
Eliza moved closer, her huge shadow falling over the glowing interface. The immense shadow was comforting to Julian. The closeness immediately stopped the Link Pain, letting them concentrate. The cold, sharp ache in their chests faded into a dull, manageable warmth. Julian began to trace the symbols with a shaking finger, translating them in his mind based on his memory of Titan's first language. He had to fight the terror of the drone to read the old words.
The first crucial phrase was translated: The Heavy Load of the Sky-Forged Debt.
"Sky-Forged," Eliza repeated, her eyes wide with shock. The deep CEO voice came out as a shocked gasp. "That's not corporate. That's... mythology. This isn't just about Julian stealing money from the Syndicate. This is something far older, something written in the family's cosmic history." The realization was physically staggering; she had to brace herself on the stone altar with both of Julian's massive arms.
Julian frantically worked on the next sequence of symbols, driven by the knowledge that the drone could send its own signal down at any moment. He kept glancing up at the ceiling, expecting the drone to crash through the rock. He realized the code wasn't just text; it was a complex legal contract tying the Titan family to an external, unseen entity. He wasn't just fixing a balance sheet; he was solving a supernatural problem.
After an agonizing hour of translation—filled with the drone's rising and falling static—the central truth was revealed in stark, unforgiving terms. Julian read the words aloud, his voice catching in Eliza's throat with the horror of the discovery: "The Rule needs balance. For every generation that gets power through the Void Engine, a debt is incurred. When the debt is due, the soul of the Heir and the soul of the Keeper must be exchanged, to ensure humility and preserve the Link to the Ancestral Source."
Eliza's powerful body went rigid. She couldn't move. "Heir and Keeper," she whispered. "Julian was the Heir—the CEO. I was the Keeper—the one who quietly maintained the family's illegal assets." The pieces clicked together with the sound of a door slamming shut.
The swap was not a mistake or a technological fluke. It was an intended, ritualistic consequence. Their entire struggle was just the automatic enforcement of an ancient family contract. They hadn't run away from a company; they had run away from Cosmic Law. They were playing a game they were designed to lose.
Julian continued translating, his eyes burning into the holographic screen. He felt a strange sort of pity for the first ancestor who had been so afraid of too much power. The screen revealed that the Rule was created specifically to prevent the Titan family from achieving absolute, world-ending power through their technology. The ancestor who wrote this believed they were doing the right thing—a massive, generational act of forced, painful, emotional development.
Julian read the ancestor's logic: "The purpose of the Swap is to put the ruthless efficiency of the Heir into the sympathetic heart of the Keeper, and the emotional restraint of the Keeper into the ambitious mind of the Heir. The souls are exchanged to force growth, not merely to punish." The Time Bomb wasn't a flaw; it was a Self-Correction Mechanism designed to encourage the two swapped individuals to rely on each other and find a way to align their souls.
The shock of this revelation—that they were just pawns in an ancient therapy session—was too much for the Link to handle. The blue glow of the interface flared violently. Both Julian and Eliza gasped as a sudden, sharp, silvery spike of Memory Bleed pierced their minds.
Eliza (as Julian) suddenly saw a memory that wasn't hers: a vast, empty childhood room where a young Julian Kang sat alone, staring at a holographic image of the Ancestral Code. She felt the weight of his childhood loneliness, the immense pressure to succeed that led to his coldness. She realized he was never truly happy or close to anyone.
Julian (as Eliza) simultaneously saw a memory of Eliza's early operative training: a moment of pure, devastating moral conflict when she had to execute a morally grey order for the Syndicate. He felt the terrible burden of her conscience and the deep empathy she hid beneath her ruthless exterior just to survive. He understood her detachment was protective armor.
The Memory Bleed faded, leaving them both shaking, their hands clutching the altar for support. They had seen not just each other's memories, but the deep, foundational emotional pain that defined their lives. The fear was gone, replaced by a terrible, mutual understanding.
"You... you were so alone, even then," Eliza whispered, her eyes wide. She was speaking about Julian, but using his deep voice.
"And you carry the weight of every bad decision your job forced you to make," Julian replied, his voice small and soft. He was speaking about Eliza.
The Link had forced them to see that the qualities they hated in the other person (Julian's coldness, Eliza's detachment) were actually coping mechanisms born from their past. The cosmic contract wasn't trying to kill them; it was trying to make them understand each other.
The interface displayed one final, chilling paragraph before the surveillance drone outside suddenly intensified its audio signal—it was moving, preparing to descend.
Julian translated the last sentence quickly, his small hand sweeping across the screen to grab the information: "The Link, once activated by the Heir and the Keeper, will destabilize the host bodies after a period of exactly 90 days. To survive, the Anchor must be secured and the Ritual must be performed. Failure results in the irreversible dissipation of both souls."
The Time Bomb was not a vague threat. It had a 90-day expiry date. They had less than three months before both Julian's powerful body and Eliza's agile body would cease to be viable hosts, killing them both. The knowledge was terrifying, and the drone outside was now buzzing violently, signaling the end of their brief sanctuary. They had the truth, but no more time.