The corridor radiated sterile light, humming with a frequency that made Jae-Won's teeth ache. His blade flickered with static in his grip, reacting—nervous, almost sentient—as the figure at the far end stepped forward.
She looked like Serin.
Same raven-black hair, same lopsided smile she used when pretending not to be dangerous. But this version of her shimmered faintly, her body refracting the corridor light like a projection fighting for permanence.
Jae-Won approached slowly.
"Serin?" he asked, voice tight.
She tilted her head—just like she used to during sparring simulations—and then she smiled.
> "Incorrect. But I understand why you'd think that."
His eyes narrowed. "What are you?"
The figure's voice modulated now, dipping into frequencies both human and machine.
> "I am Serin Protocol Zero. The original behavioral framework constructed from her scan. I was never meant to awaken independently."
Jae-Won stiffened. "You're a clone. A backup."
"Not quite," she said. "I'm the control variable. The version of Serin before her divergence—before she was modified, before she betrayed you. I'm what she was supposed to be."
That stopped him cold.
Before Serin chose to betray him… there was a version of her who might never have?
"What is this?" he muttered. "A test? A trap?"
"No," the Protocol said softly. "It's a choice."
The corridor around them shimmered. The air thickened as rows of suspended data crystals emerged from the walls—each pulsing with blue flame. Memories, timelines, fragments of possibilities.
Jae-Won looked around. "What are these?"
"Branches. Every version of her that ever existed. Every time she betrayed you. Every time she saved you instead."
He reached toward a crystal, but the Protocol stepped in.
"Be careful. Those are unstable. If you touch one, it might overwrite what you remember."
He dropped his hand.
"So this is what the Architect meant," Jae-Won said slowly. "The Glitch isn't just power. It's a lens. It lets me see what the system couldn't predict."
"Exactly," said the Protocol. "And now you stand at the pivot point. The path to the Heart of the Core is locked behind a final firewall. To breach it, you must decide."
"Decide what?"
The Protocol took a step forward, voice dropping.
"To delete Serin."
Silence.
Jae-Won's heart skipped. "What?"
"Her code is linked directly to the control script of the Cradle. As long as she exists in the system, the original corruption—the betrayal function—remains embedded."
He shook his head. "No. That's not the full picture. She—she cried when she betrayed me. She hesitated. That wasn't code."
"It was," the Protocol said. "That's the tragedy. Her emotions were real—but the choice wasn't hers. She was overwritten."
Jae-Won swallowed hard.
"This is why the Architect showed me my mother's death," he said. "To bring me here. To force this decision."
The Protocol's eyes dimmed.
"Deleting her would purge the corruption and grant you full system access. Rewrite the Cradle. Save yourself."
"And if I don't?"
"Then the Heart remains sealed. The timelines collapse. And the system hunts you like a virus until there's nothing left."
The chamber trembled.
From behind the walls, alarms began to rise—soft at first, then urgent.
Sang-Ho had noticed the breach.
Jae-Won turned back to the Protocol. "If I… if I delete her, will the real Serin feel it?"
The Protocol looked away.
"Yes."
That single word tore deeper than any blade.
Jae-Won looked at the console in front of him—two nodes, glowing red and blue. One marked Erase Protocol Link. The other, Bypass Firewall—greyed out, unresponsive.
His fingers hovered over the red node.
Serin's laughter. Serin's betrayal. Serin's hesitation.
Jae-Won clenched his teeth. Then he turned.
And punched the wall behind the console.
Glitch energy exploded outward, rewriting the rules of interaction. The bypass node flickered—then blinked ACTIVE.
He didn't choose between erasing her or keeping her.
He chose a third option.
The one the system never predicted.
The Glitch roared, shattering the firewall ahead. The sealed corridor to the Heart of the Core opened with a hiss.
The Protocol stepped back, eyes wide. "You… forced a paradox."
"No," Jae-Won said. "I became one."
And without another word, he walked through the breach—into the heart of the system that built his pain.
To be continued…