The golden light didn't fade; it shattered like a glass ceiling, dropping Seol-wol and Miran into the absolute center of the facility.
This was the Core.
[44:10:05]
There were no books here. No marble floors.
The room was a vast, spherical chamber made of black obsidian, pulsing with rhythmic white light. In the center, suspended by a thousand silver wires, was the Cold Box. It looked like a human heart made of mercury, beating in slow, heavy thumps that shook the very air.
But Seol-wol wasn't looking at the box. He was looking at the "windows" that lined the circular walls.
"Miran... look," Seol-wol whispered, his voice trembling. He stumbled toward one of the massive glass ports.
Through the glass, he didn't see the neon lights of the City or the rainy streets of the gutter. He saw nothing. Beyond the facility walls lay a vast, grey desert under a sky that was permanently choked with ash. There were no buildings. No people. Just the ruins of a civilization that had been dead for a hundred years. The "City" they had lived in was nothing but a massive, domed projection—a giant television screen built to keep the survivors from losing their minds.
"It's a lie," Seol-wol gasped, his hand smearing the frost on the glass. "The whole world... it's already gone."
"That is the secret Borislav would kill to keep," Miran said, standing behind him. He looked exhausted, his hand still resting on the small of Seol-wol's back. "The Vault doesn't contain gold, Seol-wol. It contains the Terraforming Engine. The only thing that can scrub the ash from the sky and make the grass grow again."
"And Junseo?" Seol-wol turned, his eyes wide. "Why does he need a twin for that?"
"Because the Engine requires a dual-processor," a voice boomed.
From the shadows of the obsidian pillars, Borislav emerged. He wasn't wearing his commander's uniform anymore. He was draped in a neural-suit that looked like a second skin, covered in glowing ports.
Behind him stood a squad of Reapers, their blades dripping with fresh hydraulic fluid.
"One mind to hold the Map, and one mind to drive the Engine," Borislav said, his eyes wild with a fanatic's greed. "You and your brother were born for this, Seol-wol. You are the biological hardware for the rebirth of Earth."
"Where is he?" Seol-wol demanded, igniting his plasma-cutter. "Where is Junseo?"
Borislav stepped aside. Behind him, another obsidian pillar rose from the floor. Strapped to it was Junseo. He was awake, but his eyes were glowing with a terrifying, constant white light. He wasn't screaming. He was humming—a sound that matched the frequency of the Cold Box.
"He's already begun the handshake,"
Borislav smirked. "But he's failing. He's too weak to stabilize the output. He needs his 'Grounding Wire.' He needs you, Seol-wol."
Miran stepped forward, his body shielding Seol-wol. "He's not going into that machine, Grandfather. We're taking the Box and leaving."
"Leaving for where, Miran?" Borislav laughed, gesturing to the dead world outside the window. "There is nowhere to go! You can stay in the dome and rot, or you can help me turn the key and become the gods of a new Eden!"
Seol-wol looked at the "Mother" ghost flickering near Junseo's feet, then at the dead world outside, and finally at Miran. The kiss they shared in the library felt like a distant dream now. This was the reality: a choice between a beautiful lie and a horrific truth.
"Hyung..."
Junseo's voice broke through the humming. His real voice. It was small, pained, and filled with a terrifying clarity.
"Hyung, don't do it. If you plug in... you won't come back. There's no 'Seol-wol' in the new world. Only the System."
Seol-wol looked at the metallic bolt he still carried. He looked at Miran, whose hand was drifting toward his weapon.
"I'm not a god," Seol-wol said, his voice cold. "And I'm tired of being a key."
Seol-wol didn't lunge for Borislav. He lunged for the Cold Box itself, the plasma-cutter screaming as he aimed it at the silver wires.
"IF I CAN'T HAVE MY BROTHER, NO ONE GETS THE WORLD!"