Chapter 3: a harbinger of tragedy

In the quiet of their living room, Ji-hyun and Seo Dan shared a secret. The air hung heavy with anticipation, like the stillness before a storm. Seo Dan's eyes bore into Ji-hyun's, her voice low and urgent.

"Sister," Seo Dan whispered, her fingers trembling as she handed Ji-hyun a small USB drive. "Take this and don't give it to anyone."

Ji-hyun's curiosity flared. "What is it? And why?" she asked, her gaze fixed on the mysterious device.

"Something you'll need soon," Seo Dan replied cryptically. "Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps later. But when the time comes, you'll know what to do."

Ji-hyun nodded, her mind racing with questions. What secrets lay hidden within that innocuous USB drive? She tucked it away, promising herself she'd find out when the moment arrived.

The next day, outside a humble grocery store, an old woman approached Ji-hyun. Her eyes were ancient, yet they held a spark of knowing. "Hello," she said, her voice like a whisper carried by the wind.

Ji-hyun bowed respectfully. "Hello."

The old woman reached into the folds of her cloak, revealing a delicate clock necklace. Its silver chain glimmered in the sunlight. "Take this," she said, her eyes locking onto Ji-hyun's.

"Why?" Ji-hyun asked, her heart pounding.

"Because," the old woman replied, her smile both kind and enigmatic, "you'll need it in the future. When regrets weigh heavy upon you, or when you yearn to alter the course of your existence."

"The ChronoKey" the old woman pointed at the clock necklace.

it's an exquisite piece of jewelry that defies the ordinary. It's crafted from a blend of polished silver and brass, with intricate engravings that resemble the delicate hands of a clock. The centerpiece is a small, ornate clock face, its numbers etched in gold, and the hands frozen at a time that seems to hold significance to the wearer.

The chain is made of fine links, each one a testament to the craftsmanship that went into its creation. It's long enough to drape elegantly over the collarbone, yet sturdy enough to withstand the rigors of time travel.

Atop the chain hangs a small, round pendant that houses the clock face. It's not just any clock; it's a portal to different eras. The gears within are visible through a crystal-clear glass cover, giving it an almost ethereal glow. The back of the pendant is adorned with a small, hidden compartment that holds a tiny key – the key to unlocking the mysteries of time.

"ChronoKey" the old woman says "it's not just a timepiece; it's a symbol of adventure and discovery, a companion for those who dare to journey through history. It's both beautiful and functional, a perfect blend of art and science for your time-traveling"

"Child," she murmured, her breath a wisp of forgotten tales, "this necklace is no mere bauble. It's a chronicle of moments—their whispers etched into silver, their heartbeat frozen in brass."

Ji-hyun's pulse quickened. "What does it hold?"

"Time," the old woman replied, her gaze piercing the veil of reality. "Each link in its chain cradles a fragment—a stolen kiss, an unspoken vow, a crossroad forsaken. Wear it, and you'll glimpse the loom where destiny weaves."

"But why?" Ji-hyun pressed, her heart a compass seeking direction.

"Because," the old woman said, her smile both kind and cryptic, "when the world tilts, and your soul yearns for change, this necklace will unravel. Its clock face—a portal to forgotten eras—awaits your touch."

Ji-hyun accepted the pendant, its silver cool against her skin. "And the hidden key?"

"Ah," the old woman whispered, "that tiny key unlocks not just time, but choice. For within its delicate gears lies the power to alter fate. Regrets, redemption—they dance upon its hands."

And with that, the old woman vanished, leaving Ji-hyun cradling the ChronoKey—a fusion of art and science, a compass for the daring. Time, like a river, flowed through its crystal-clear glass, inviting her to step beyond the ordinary.

The clock necklace—the ChronoKey—was no mere adornment. It was her invitation to rewrite the tapestry of existence, one tick at a time.

the old woman vanished, leaving behind only the echo of her words and the weight of the clock necklace in Ji-hyun's palm. Time, it seemed, had gifted her with a secret—a choice that would shape her destiny.

The clock necklace, with its delicate silver chain and timeless design, carries profound symbolism. It represents the passage of time, the moments that shape our lives, and the choices we make. When Ji-hyun received it, she unknowingly accepted a gift of fate—a reminder that her actions would ripple through time, altering her destiny. The old woman's words echoed: "You'll need it in the future, when regrets weigh heavy upon you, or when you yearn to alter the course of your existence."

——————-

In the parlor's muted light, Ji-hyun cradled her phone—a harbinger of tragedy. The call's urgency echoed through her veins, a dirge she couldn't decipher. She arrived at the scene, where chaos swirled—a tempest of flashing cameras, hushed whispers, and uniforms that bore witness to sorrow.

Reporters scribbled their narratives, their pens etching fate into headlines. Many people—strangers and kin alike—clustered like moths drawn to a flame. Police formed a human barricade, their eyes veiled by duty. Fire service personnel moved with precision, as if choreographed by grief. Doctors, too, stood sentinel, their white coats stained with the residue of life's fragility.

And there, amidst the cacophony, lay Seo Dan—an elegy in crimson. Her body, once vibrant, now whispered secrets to the floor. Ji-hyun's breath hitched; her sister's blood seeped into her soul.

"Why?" Ji-hyun's cry shattered the stillness. "Why?" She never expected Seo Dan will commit suicide

Yesterday, Seo Dan's warning echoed: "Don't open the USB." A cryptic plea, a fragile thread woven between them. But Ji-hyun never fathomed its weight—the gravity of a sister's desperate plea.

Now, as tears blurred her vision, she understood. The USB held more than files; it cradled a confession—an unwritten letter etched in pixels. Seo Dan's silent plea echoed: "Save yourself."

Ji-hyun clutched the USB, its edges sharp against her palm. She vowed to unravel its secrets, to trace the labyrinth of despair that led Seo Dan here. But time, like blood, flowed inexorably. Regrets, like shadows, danced upon the walls.

In this parlor of shattered moments, Ji-hyun mourned—a requiem for choices unmade, for love unsung. And as sirens wailed beyond the window, she wondered: Could she rewind fate? Could she stitch together fractured timelines?

The USB—a Pandora's box—beckoned. Its secrets whispered: "Unlock me."

And Ji-hyun, heart heavy as the clock necklace around her neck, stepped into the abyss of memory.