The safehouse door slammed behind them with a metallic clang, sealing out the city's noise but doing nothing to muffle the storm that had been unleashed inside. Lin leaned against the wall, sweat dripping down his temples. His chest heaved, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins like liquid fire. He had barely kept the tether stable when the suited figure whispered his true name—and that whisper still echoed in the marrow of his bones.

The silence that filled the dimly lit room was unbearable. Keller broke it first.

"What the hell was that back there?" His voice was sharp, biting. His hand hovered over his pistol, not because he meant to use it, but because it grounded him. "The way the tether reacted—Lin, it was like the whole damn city was about to split in two."

Min-joon's eyes didn't leave Lin. His jaw was clenched so tight it looked like it might snap. "Not just the tether. You. That… thing knew your name. Not your alias, not 'Lin'—your real name. Who are you really?"

Lin's throat tightened. He wanted to lie. He wanted to deflect, to push it away as a distraction. But the tether inside him vibrated violently at the thought, as if warning him that lies now carried a weight he could no longer afford. Still, his voice came out measured. "I told you before. I've been connected to the tether longer than anyone. That makes me… different."

"Different?" Min-joon snapped, his voice rising like a whip crack. "That wasn't just 'different.' That thing looked at you like it had been waiting centuries. And you didn't deny it when it said your name." His fists clenched. "So tell us the truth. Or tell me why I shouldn't walk out right now and let this city deal with you on its own."

Keller's sharp inhale cut through the tension, but he didn't speak. Even Hwan, who usually played the mediator, was silent, his gaze fixed on Lin with an intensity that carried no trace of humor or calm this time. The weight of the question pressed in from all sides.

Lin lowered his eyes, staring at the scuffed floor. He remembered the first time the tether had whispered to him—years ago, in a place he should never have been. The seams had called him by name before anyone else ever had. And now… now that name had been dragged into the open like a blade.

He forced his voice steady. "My name isn't Lin. It never was. That's just the piece of me that you see—the piece that can move through this world. The tether called me long before I understood what it was. And that thing tonight? It wasn't just an enemy. It was a reminder that whatever I am… I don't get to run from it anymore."

The silence stretched again. Hwan broke it this time, voice calm but edged with steel. "That's not an answer. That's a riddle wrapped in guilt." His gaze narrowed. "Do you even know what you are?"

Lin hesitated. "Yes. And no."

Keller cursed under his breath, pacing. Min-joon's face hardened. "You've been lying to us since the beginning. You put us in the middle of this war without telling us the rules. You made us fight monsters while you—" He jabbed a finger at Lin's chest. "—are the biggest secret of all."

The accusation hung heavy. Lin wanted to argue, to push back, but the words crumbled before they reached his lips. The tether pulsed in him, violent, restless, as though it too knew the truth could no longer stay buried. He exhaled shakily. "You're right. I kept things from you. Not because I wanted to use you, but because I was afraid. Afraid that if I told you what I am, you'd see me the same way they do—the same way that suited thing did. Not as a person. As a key."

"A key to what?" Hwan asked, his voice low.

Before Lin could answer, the safehouse lights flickered. A low rumble echoed from outside, followed by a distant chorus of shouts. Keller was at the window in an instant, peering through the blinds. His face went pale. "Oh, hell. You need to see this."

They crowded around the narrow slit of glass. The Seoul skyline, usually glittering and steady, was fractured by ribbons of distortion in the air. They shimmered like oil on water, stretching between buildings, writhing like living veins. Civilians on the streets below pointed phones upward, some screaming, others frozen in stunned silence. Already, sirens wailed in the distance, flashing lights cutting across the night. The seams weren't just hidden fractures anymore. They were visible. To everyone.

Min-joon swore softly. "It's spreading."

Hwan muttered, "No—worse. It's answering. To his name."

Lin's stomach dropped. He could feel it, too. The seams were vibrating in resonance with him, like a chorus responding to its conductor. His name had become a beacon, and now the world was listening.

Keller stepped back from the window, his hand raking through his hair. "You hear that? That's panic. In twenty minutes, it'll be all over the feeds, the news, everywhere. The government won't be able to cover this up anymore."

And he was right. Already, notifications buzzed faintly from their discarded devices—headlines beginning to crawl across screens:

"STRANGE LIGHT RIPS SKY OVER SEOUL."

"MASS HYSTERIA OR UNKNOWN ATTACK?"

"CITIZENS CAPTURE UNEXPLAINABLE EVENTS ON VIDEO."

Hwan pressed his lips together grimly. "Congratulations, Lin. The whole world's about to know you're real."

Min-joon rounded on him again, his voice raw. "So tell me—what happens now? Do these seams tear the city apart? Or do they all come crashing down on us because of you? Which is it?"

Lin met his gaze. For the first time in years, he felt cornered—not by enemies in the shadows, but by the people he trusted most. His allies. His tether vibrated violently in his chest, like it wanted to burst free and speak for him. He forced it down, swallowing hard. "I don't know."

The three words hit like a hammer. Keller swore, turning away. Min-joon shook his head in disbelief. Hwan just stared, his usual grin long gone.

The pounding at the door broke the silence. Three sharp knocks. Then a pause. Then three more.

Everyone froze.

"That's not military," Keller whispered. "They wouldn't knock."

The knocks came again, deliberate, rhythmic. Like a code. Lin's pulse hammered in his ears. Whoever was out there wasn't random. They knew the pattern. They knew this place. Which meant the safehouse wasn't safe anymore.

Min-joon's voice was a low growl. "You brought this on us." He reached for his weapon. "And I'm done waiting for half-truths. Either you start talking, or I swear, Lin, I'll treat you like the enemy you've been hiding from us this whole time."

Lin's chest tightened. The tether inside him roared. And beyond the door, the knocking stopped—replaced by a whisper that slid under the cracks like smoke.

"Lin. We've been waiting."

The voice was the same one from the suited figure, soft and impossibly patient. And it wasn't just outside. It was inside his head, inside the tether, vibrating through every seam in the city. The lights flickered again, shadows stretching unnaturally along the walls.

Keller hissed. "It found us."

The room became a pressure chamber of panic, betrayal, and fear. Lin closed his eyes, every muscle in his body trembling. He knew, in this moment, that the truth would no longer be his choice to give or withhold. It was coming for him, and for all of them.

And when it came, the world would never see him as Lin again.

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