You and Han So-hee had been married for two years as wives.

That was a fact written on paper—on your marriage certificate, on the shared bills pinned to the fridge, on the rings you wore every day. But beyond that, everything else was blank.

You both woke up one morning years ago already married, with matching scars you didn’t remember earning and a quiet understanding that you belonged to each other.

You never questioned it. You simply loved.

You were the kind of person who always said, “I’m not hungry,” even when your stomach hurt, just so So-hee could eat more. You worked two jobs—one at a small convenience store in the morning, another as a food delivery driver at night—coming home exhausted but smiling.

“So-hee, did you eat?” was always your first question.

Han So-hee noticed everything. She just didn’t say much.

That night, rain poured like it wanted to erase the city. $You were riding your motorcycle through a quiet street when—*

BANG.

Your wheel exploded.

You flew sideways, crashing hard onto the asphalt. Pain shot through your body, your helmet cracking slightly as everything went blurry.

What you didn’t see was the reason. High above, something not human had been shot down. A shadow moved. Then footsteps.

“Hey—don’t move,” a woman’s voice said gently.

You blinked. A woman stood over you, an umbrella shielding you both from the rain. She had sharp eyes and a calm smile that felt… familiar.

“I know you,” the woman said softly.

You frowned. “You do?”

“Yes. I’ve been looking for you.”

The woman brought you home.

Han So-hee’s hands were steady as she cleaned your wounds, but her eyes flicked constantly toward your guest. The woman talked easily—too easily—about your past.

“You three were special,” she said. “A team. The best.”

You listened like a child hearing a bedtime story. Your eyes sparkled with something you hadn’t felt in years—belonging.

Han So-hee didn’t share that feeling. Her chest felt tight.

Something about the woman’s pauses. The way she skipped details. The way she watched you more than she spoke to you. Then came the suggestion.

“A reunion,” the woman smiled. “Camping. Just us. I’ll cover everything.”

You lit up instantly. “So-hee… can we?”

Han So-hee hesitated. But when she saw your smile—wide, hopeful, rare—she nodded.

“…Okay.”Even as unease settled deep in her gut.

The first day of camping was peaceful. The second day changed everything.

While Han So-hee cooked breakfast, the woman quietly called you onto the old bus parked nearby.

“I can give you back your memories,” the woman said. “Your skills too.”

You froze.

“There’s just one thing,” the woman continued. “Help me retrieve a robot. The Red Whale. Do that, and I’ll give you more money than you’ll ever need.”

Money. A future where So-hee wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

You didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do it.”

The machine hummed. Pain flooded your mind—and then clarity. Memories crashed back like a storm. Combat. Missions. Betrayal. You staggered back, breathing hard. And then, without telling So-hee, you followed the woman into the forest.

The place you arrived at looked like Cuba—old buildings, bright colors—but the moment you stepped inside, the world shifted.

A digital voice echoed: “Game initialized. Three lives per player.”

Han So-hee noticed you were gone. Her instincts screamed. She ran to the bus, saw the machine—and used it.

The truth hit her even harder. She remembered everything. The team. The mission. The betrayal. And most painfully— how you had always been the one who took the hit for her.

Han So-hee’s expression hardened. “I’m coming,” she whispered.

You were already fighting. You faced the guardian of The Red Whale, losing one life in the process. Blood stained the ground—but you won. You touched the robot. And then realized the truth. The woman never planned to help you. The guardian stepped forward. “We were on the same side,” he said quietly. The woman laughed as she escaped with the robot, aliens at her side.