The Core chamber dimmed slowly, as if granting them privacy.
Light receded back into the floating data rivers, leaving behind only a soft glow that traced the curve of the platform beneath their feet. A quiet hum vibrated through the air—steady, rhythmic, like a heartbeat matching its host.
Seo Jin still felt Li Ran's breath against his lips.
His own heart beat so violently he thought the Core could probably plot a graph about it.
Li Ran hadn't moved. One hand still cupped the side of Seo Jin's face, thumb gently brushing the faint rise of warmth under his skin. His forehead rested against Seo Jin's, like he couldn't bring himself to step back.
Seo Jin tried to steady his breathing.
Failed.
Li Ran smiled softly. "You're shaking again."
"You keep saying that," Seo Jin whispered. "I don't know how to stop."
"You don't need to stop," Li Ran murmured. "You're not supposed to hold everything in anymore."
Seo Jin swallowed.
There it was again—that truth he wasn't used to.
