The attack did not announce itself.
No warning. No system countdown. No dramatic rupture in the sky.
It came as a correction.
Reality twitched—like a sentence rewritten mid-word.
Kim Dokja noticed it first.
He stood so suddenly that the stone scraped beneath his boots. His hand was already raised, fingers half-curled as if to pull open a probability window that refused to respond.
"…So that's how they're doing it," he muttered.
She followed his gaze, heart tightening. "What's wrong?"
"You," he said simply. "And me standing next to you."
The air around him distorted.
Not violently—precisely. Like a line being erased because it didn't belong in the paragraph.
[System Notice]An irregular variable is interfering with narrative flow.Correction authority granted to observing constellations.
Her breath caught. "Irregular… variable?"
Kim Dokja laughed under his breath. It wasn't amused.
"Guess I overstayed my role."
The distortion wrapped around his arm first. Not pain—removal. As if the world was trying to decide which version of him should exist here.
She moved without thinking.
Her hand closed around his wrist.
The moment she touched him, the blade reacted.
Not drawn. Not summoned.
Remembered.
The world lurched.
Fragments slammed into her—scenes she had never lived but somehow knew.
Kim Dokja bleeding out while no one noticed.Kim Dokja erased between chapters.Kim Dokja surviving because someone, somewhere, refused to look away.
Her grip tightened.
"No," she said. The word came out raw, unpolished. "You don't get to correct this."
The distortion resisted.
Then hesitated.
[Synchronization Rate: 68% → 81%]Warning: Narrative backlash imminent
Kim Dokja turned sharply. "Let go."
She shook her head.
"If you stay connected—" He swallowed. "They'll target you instead."
"Then let them," she said.
It wasn't brave.
It was stubborn.
The blade flared—not with light, but with recognition.
For the first time, the system stuttered.
[ERROR]Authority conflict detected.Story ownership unclear.
Above them, constellations stirred.
Some laughed.Some leaned closer.One went silent.
The distortion snapped—redirected.
Kim Dokja staggered forward, breath sharp, but whole.
She dropped to one knee, the backlash slamming into her like gravity remembering her all at once.
He caught her this time.
"Are you insane?" His voice shook—not with fear for himself, but for her.
"Probably," she said faintly. "But you're still here."
He didn't reply.
He just held on, a little too tightly for someone who claimed to understand how stories worked.
[Hidden Condition Met]You have protected an External Witness.Qualification: Provisional Narrator
The night exhaled.
Kim Dokja closed his eyes briefly, forehead resting against hers—but just for a second. Just enough to steady his breathing.
"…You really are dangerous," he said quietly.
She smiled weakly. "So are you."
Above them, a constellation finally spoke—not in words, but in pressure.
This bond had been noticed.
And next time—
The correction wouldn't hesitate.