The noodle shop's TV is mounted crooked in the corner, wrapped in grease and static—one of those relics that looks like it belongs in a junkyard more than a dining room. 

It buzzes like it's chewing on its own wires, spitting out half-sentences and dust clouds.

I don't look up.

I'm still stuck in the clinic—white lights, that drawer marked VOID, humming like it had my name on it.

Override. 

The word spins slow, sour.

I stir broth I haven't tasted. 

Just buying time. 

Failing.

Then the TV clears—just enough to punch me in the ribs.

"TEPPENEWS 12—LIVE FROM ROKUNAN PORT—"

I don't mean to look. But I do.

"A cargo freighter identified as NXS-Kyune exploded while docked in the city of Rokunan late last night. At least twelve dead, dozens injured. 

Officials initially cited an engine malfunction, but new speculation suggests political sabotage."

For some reason, my blood goes cold. 

"Unnamed sources say the freighter was carrying data—destination unknown. 

Some allege connections to unrest in Mujin, still reeling after the assassination of Prime Minister Yoon Jong-Shin five months ago. 

The case remains open as his stepdaughter, Yoon Jong-Ri, has yet to be found. 

While some point to a targeted act of sabotage, others speculate these are copycat attacks tied to the upcoming Exodus Day celebrations."

I stop breathing.

Just like that.

The chopsticks slip from my hand, vanishes into the broth with a quiet splash.

"No leads on Jong-Ri's whereabouts. Theories range from kidnapping to voluntary defection. Some fringe boards are linking this explosion to what they call the Han Jae-Woo Archives—"

No.

No, no, no.

They said the name. 

They don't know what it means. 

But it's out there now—threaded through static like a ghost.

Mujin slams back into me.

My stepfather. The files. The breath I didn't take before I ran.

The chip in my neck blinks red.

Override tech.

Recognition loop.

I run out of the shop. 

"HEY—YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR THE FOOD!"

The shop owner yells after me, but my head's full of static. 

I want to say something, anything—but my chip starts blinking again, sharp and angry, drowning him out like a siren in my skull.

Then—
A blur of movement.
A glint of metal.
The bat swinging.

And right before it connects—

She's there.

Jet.

Metal crashes against metal. 

Sparks bounce off the walls. 

The shop owner stumbles back, stunned by the girl who just intercepted his swing like it was nothing.

Jet doesn't flinch.

"Hands off my mechanic," she says, low and lethal.

And just like that—everything slows.

The TV. 

The shop. 

The rain.

All of it peels back like dead wallpaper.

Because she's here.

Jet.

And my body... forgets how to function.

My legs give out first. 

Knees folding. 

Heart stuttering. 

The chip in my neck pulses like it's been struck, hard and deep.

Override embedded...
Recognition loop active...
Subject #008 – ERROR: UNEXPECTED MATCH.

My lungs seize. 

My vision white-outs.

Jet turns toward me—eyes wide, reaching fast.

"Tessa?"

But I'm not there anymore.

The room tilts.

The world caves in.

And I collapse.

Right into her arms.

Dead weight. 

Out cold.

Like someone flipped the kill switch in my spine—and pulled me straight out of the world.