SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: You are reading [Threshold Walker: The Silver Circuit]
Jin stared at the memory crystal, its geometric facets catching the dim light of the safe house. After a restless night filled with dreams of silver pathways and Dr. Ha's capture, his eyes burned with exhaustion and determination in equal measure.
"Anything?" Jin-Ah asked, looking up from her laptop where she'd been analyzing the photographs she'd taken of their father's research documents.
"Nothing new," Jin replied, turning the crystal in his palm. "It's like holding a piece of Dad—I can feel a connection, but I can't access whatever's inside."
Tae-Woo entered the cramped apartment above the repair shop, shaking rainwater from his jacket. The storm had continued through the night, as if the city itself was mourning Dr. Ha's capture.
"I've made contact with Dr. Park," he announced, his expression a careful mask of professionalism that didn't quite hide his concern. "He's agreed to meet us at the Network's technical facility. If anyone can help us access that crystal, it's him."
"Who is this Dr. Park?" Jin-Ah asked, already closing her laptop and gathering her notes.
"Dr. Park Min-Soo. Former colleague of your father," Tae-Woo explained, checking the street through a gap in the blinds. "Threshold technology specialist. Eccentric but brilliant. Been with the Network since the First Breach."
Jin carefully placed the crystal in the specialized container Jin-Ah had brought from the research case. "Can we trust him?"
"As much as we can trust anyone these days," Tae-Woo replied with a grim smile. "He was one of the few who never believed your father was responsible for the breaches."
Jin nodded, decision made. "How do we get there?"
"The long way," Tae-Woo said. "Division will be watching all direct routes to known Network locations. We need to assume they're tracking your threshold signature after yesterday's events."
Jin thought of Dr. Ha, wondering what she might be enduring at that very moment. The guilt sat heavy in his chest. "Let's move quickly then. Every minute counts."
The Division Interrogation Center occupied three unmarked floors of a government administrative building in central Seoul. Unlike the imposing headquarters with its imposing architecture and visible security, the interrogation facility was designed to be forgettable—a place citizens could walk past daily without a second glance.
Dr. Ha sat in a featureless white room, her wrists secured to a metal table bolted to the floor. The room was intentionally cold, the harsh lighting designed to disorient by eliminating shadows. Most importantly, the walls contained embedded threshold dampening technology, creating a numbing static that dulled her already limited threshold sensitivity.
The door opened with a pneumatic hiss, and Agent Song entered, carrying a tablet and a thin file folder. Unlike the tactical team that had processed Dr. Ha's intake, Song wore civilian clothes—a simple black suit that somehow made her look more dangerous than body armor would have.
"Dr. Ha Ji-Ah," Song said, her voice neutral as she took the seat opposite. "It's been some time since we've had a proper conversation."
Ha regarded her former colleague with calm defiance. "I believe our last discussion ended with you threatening to have me arrested for 'threshold contamination protocols.' I see you've finally made good on that threat."
Song placed the tablet on the table but didn't activate it. Instead, she opened the paper file—an old-fashioned approach that Ha recognized immediately as significant. Paper couldn't be remotely monitored.
"For the official record," Song said, her voice maintaining its professional cadence while her eyes conveyed something entirely different, "you are being held under Section 17 of the Threshold Containment Act, specifically for unauthorized threshold experimentation and aiding a person of interest in evading Division custody."
Ha noticed Song's finger tapping twice on a specific paragraph in the file—a signal they had once used during joint research projects when they needed to communicate without surveillance.
"The charges are absurd," Ha replied evenly, picking up the silent communication. "I've been helping threshold-sensitive individuals that the Division abandoned."
Song nodded slightly, confirming the message was received. "You've been operating an illegal clinic, using restricted equipment, and most recently, you aided Jin Seo in accessing a Division-restricted zone and stealing classified research materials."
As she spoke, Song tilted the file slightly, revealing handwritten notes in the margin: Room bugged. Visual only on your side of table. 48-hour transfer scheduled.
"I've been providing medical care to those the Division would rather pretend don't exist," Ha countered, maintaining her role in this precarious verbal chess match. "And Jin Seo has a right to his father's research."
Song closed the file. "That's not for you to decide, Dr. Ha. The Division classifies threshold material based on public safety considerations, not family sentiment." She tapped the edge of the table twice—another signal from their shared past. I need to say certain things for the record.
"What does the Division want from me?" Ha asked, understanding the dangerous game Song was playing.
"Information about Jin Seo's current abilities, the location of the research case you helped him obtain, and details about the other convergence points you've been investigating." Song's voice remained coldly professional even as her eyes conveyed urgency. "Cooperation will significantly improve your situation."
Ha leaned forward slightly. "And if I don't cooperate?"
"Then you'll be transferred to our primary research facility tomorrow evening for enhanced interrogation methods." Song's expression didn't change, but Ha understood the warning. They're moving you. Soon.
Before Ha could respond, the door opened again. Both women straightened almost imperceptibly as Director Choi Min-Jung entered, her crisp Division uniform and immaculate appearance projecting authority.
"Agent Song," Director Choi acknowledged with a nod before turning her attention to Ha. "Dr. Ha. I hope you're being treated appropriately."
"As appropriately as one can be when illegally detained," Ha replied, watching Song's face carefully. The agent had adopted a perfect mask of professional deference toward her superior.
"There's nothing illegal about your detention," Director Choi stated, placing her hands behind her back. "But I'm not here to debate legalities. I'm here because your capture represents a significant opportunity."
"For whom?" Ha asked.
"For everyone involved," Choi replied smoothly. "The Division's priority has always been maintaining threshold containment and public safety. But we're not blind to... evolving circumstances."
Ha noted the peculiar emphasis on "evolving" and saw Song's almost imperceptible reaction to the word.
"What circumstances would those be?" Ha asked carefully.
Director Choi studied her for a long moment. "You're aware that Jin Seo is demonstrating threshold abilities beyond anything we've documented before. What you may not know is that we've been tracking a new faction with... concerning modifications to their threshold signatures."
Ha maintained a neutral expression despite her surprise. The Division was openly acknowledging the Evolved faction.
"Agent Song will continue your debriefing," Choi continued. "I suggest you consider the benefits of cooperation. Particularly regarding the memory crystal recovered from Dr. Seo's research case."
Ha couldn't hide her surprise this time. "How do you—"
"The Division's resources are more extensive than you might imagine," Choi said with a thin smile. "You have twenty-four hours to decide your level of cooperation before transfer protocols begin. I hope you make the rational choice, Dr. Ha."
With that, Director Choi left the room, the door hissing shut behind her.
Song waited several seconds before speaking. "As Director Choi indicated, we know about the memory crystal. Its contents are of particular interest to the Division."
The message was clear: The crystal was important enough for Director Choi to reveal their knowledge of it. Whatever it contained was critical.
"I don't control what Jin does with his father's research," Ha said carefully.
Song leaned forward, voice just above a whisper. "The Division isn't the only one interested in that crystal, Ji-Ah. They're watching us both now. Be ready."
Before Ha could respond, Song sat back and tapped the tablet, activating an official interview protocol, the personal moment vanished beneath layers of professionalism. But the warning remained, echoing in Ha's mind as the formal interrogation began.
The Network's technical facility was nothing like Jin had imagined. Hidden beneath an abandoned university research building, the sprawling underground complex hummed with activity. Unlike the Division's sterile laboratories, this space was organized chaos—a blend of cutting-edge technology and repurposed equipment, with dozens of people working at various stations.
"Most of our members are former academics," Tae-Woo explained as he led Jin and Jin-Ah through the facility. "Researchers who questioned the Division's approach to threshold phenomena or who experienced threshold sensitivity themselves."
Jin's silver lines responded to the environment, stretching toward certain areas where threshold energy seemed concentrated. The whole facility had a subtle silver glow to his enhanced perception.
"This place... it's shielded," Jin observed. "I can feel the threshold energy, but it's contained somehow."
Tae-Woo nodded approvingly. "Specialized dampening technology modified to allow study without alerting Division sensors. Dr. Park designed it himself."
They approached a cluttered workshop area separated from the main space by glass walls covered in complex equations and diagrams. Inside, a slender man with wild gray hair was hunched over a workbench, manipulating what appeared to be a miniature threshold field contained within a specialized chamber.
"Dr. Park," Tae-Woo called out after opening the door.
The man didn't look up, his hands making minute adjustments to the equipment. "Either you've brought me something extraordinarily interesting, Tae-Woo, or you're interrupting threshold-resonance calibration for no good reason. I sincerely hope it's the former."
"Dr. Seo's children are here," Tae-Woo said simply. "With a memory crystal from their father's research case."
Dr. Park's hands froze. Slowly, he turned, eyes widening as he took in Jin and Jin-Ah. He looked between them with an intensity that made Jin uncomfortable.
"Jin Seo. Jin-Ah Seo," Dr. Park said, voice suddenly reverent. "Jin-Woo's children." He approached them, studying their faces. "You have his eyes. Both of you. Different expressions of the same genetic pattern."
Jin-Ah shifted uncomfortably. "You knew our father?"
"Knew him? We were research partners before..." Dr. Park waved his hand dismissively. "Before the Division decided military applications were more important than understanding."
Jin felt a strange sense of déjà vu. "Like Dr. Kang Min-ho?"
Dr. Park's eyebrows shot up. "You know about Min-ho? How? He died during the First Breach."
"We met his echo yesterday," Jin explained. "He followed us from the Origin Point."
Dr. Park gripped the edge of his workbench for support. "An echo? After all this time?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Your father's contingency protocols must have finally activated. The crafty bastard actually made it work."
"Dr. Kang told us about the circuit," Jin said. "About its dual purpose."
"And about the Evolved faction," Jin-Ah added.
Dr. Park's expression darkened. "Then you understand why we need to move quickly. The Division knows some of it, but the Evolved... they understand far too much."
Jin removed the specialized container from his bag. "Dr. Kang said this was priority access. We need to know what's in it."
Dr. Park approached reverently, taking the container with careful hands. "A Between-Space crystal. Jin-Woo actually perfected the technology." He looked up, eyes bright with excitement. "This is beyond anything we've managed to develop. The crystalline lattice structure alone would revolutionize data storage, but the threshold integration... it's genius."
"Can you access it?" Jin-Ah asked impatiently.
"Me? No." Dr. Park shook his head, then smiled. "But you two can."
Jin frowned. "What do you mean?"
"This technology is genetically keyed," Dr. Park explained, moving to a specialized workstation. "Your father wouldn't leave his most important research accessible to anyone—not even colleagues like me. The crystal will only respond to your combined genetic markers and threshold signatures."
Jin-Ah looked skeptical. "I barely have any threshold sensitivity compared to Jin."
"But you have the mathematical key," Dr. Park countered, already connecting the crystal container to sophisticated monitoring equipment. "Jin-Woo's genius was in redundancy. Jin has the genetic key through his blood and threshold signature. You have the mathematical key through your unique cognitive patterns. Together, you form the complete access protocol."
Jin and Jin-Ah exchanged glances, the memory of their childhood notebooks suddenly taking on new significance.
"What do we need to do?" Jin asked.
Dr. Park's hands flew across the equipment, preparing the interface. "Jin will need to establish direct threshold resonance with the crystal while Jin-Ah provides the mathematical sequencing to decrypt the data structures."
"That... doesn't explain what we actually do," Jin-Ah pointed out.
Dr. Park looked up, seeming genuinely surprised by the question. "Oh! Physical process. Yes. Jin, you'll place your hand on the crystal while focusing your threshold perception on it—similar to how you interact with convergence points. Jin-Ah, you'll need to mentally visualize the mathematical patterns from your notebook while maintaining physical contact with both Jin and the crystal."
Jin-Ah raised an eyebrow. "That seems suspiciously mystical for scientific technology."
"All sufficiently advanced technology appears mystical to those who don't understand the principles," Dr. Park replied with a dismissive wave. "Your father integrated threshold principles with conventional technology. The interface methodology reflects that integration."
Tae-Woo, who had been quietly monitoring security feeds on a nearby terminal, spoke up. "We need to be efficient. The Division might have tracking algorithms searching for Jin's threshold signature, even through our shielding."
Dr. Park nodded, finishing his preparations. "Everything's ready. We'll record all data output for analysis."
Jin took a deep breath, looking at Jin-Ah. "Ready?"
She nodded, her expression resolute. "Let's see what Dad left for us."
Dr. Park removed the crystal from its container, placing it on a specialized receptor pad. The crystalline structure immediately responded, subtle geometric patterns illuminating from within its translucent depths.
Jin placed his hand on the crystal, Jin-Ah's smaller hand resting on top of his. With his other hand, she touched the crystal directly. The configuration formed a circuit—Jin to crystal, Jin-Ah to Jin, Jin-Ah to crystal.
"Now, Jin, focus your perception into the crystal," Dr. Park instructed, monitoring readings on his equipment. "Jin-Ah, recall the mathematical sequences from your notebook—the Fibonacci variants with prime number transformations."
Jin closed his eyes, directing his threshold perception toward the crystal. The silver lines of his vision immediately responded, connecting with the geometric patterns within the crystalline structure. It felt like reaching into cool water, his consciousness extending beyond physical limitations.
Jin-Ah, meanwhile, concentrated on the mathematical patterns she had practiced as a child—sequences that had always seemed strangely natural to her, as if they were memories rather than new concepts. As she visualized them, something remarkable happened.
The crystal began to glow brighter, its internal patterns aligning and shifting in response to their combined input. Dr. Park gasped as his monitoring equipment displayed rapidly changing data streams.
"It's working," he whispered, eyes wide with wonder. "The crystal is responding to your combined access protocol."
Jin felt a strange sensation, as if the crystal were pulling him inward. His silver lines connected more deeply with the internal structures, creating a pathway into the data stored within. Suddenly, the crystal's light intensified, projecting a holographic display above the receptor pad.
The projection showed complex three-dimensional schematics—the complete convergence circuit, all seventeen points connected in an elegant geometric pattern that pulsed with energy. Accompanying the visual were streams of data, mathematical formulas, and annotated research notes.
"Incredible," Dr. Park breathed, frantically recording everything. "This is Jin-Woo's complete circuit design. Look at the integration points, the threshold resonance calculations..."
But Jin wasn't listening. At the center of the projection, a figure was forming—a man constructed of silver-blue light, with features Jin recognized immediately despite the changes. Taller, thinner, with silver-white hair and eyes containing geometric patterns, but unmistakably his father.
"Dad," Jin whispered, his grip on the crystal tightening.
The figure smiled, its movement causing ripples in the holographic display.
"Jin. Jin-Ah," Dr. Seo's voice emerged from the crystal, sounding distant yet clear. "If you're accessing this message, you've found my research case and successfully activated at least five convergence points."
Jin-Ah gasped, tears forming in her eyes. "It's really him."
"This is not a true echo like you may have encountered," the projection continued. "Rather, it's a pre-recorded message encoded into the crystal's threshold matrix. I have limited interaction capability based on predicted questions and responses."
Dr. Park was frantically adjusting his equipment. "The data complexity is astounding. The crystal is producing more information than our systems can process."
The projection of Dr. Seo continued, "Time is fundamental to the circuit's completion. The convergence points must be activated in a specific sequence within a specific temporal window. This window corresponds to natural threshold thinning cycles that occur approximately every five years."
Jin felt his heart racing. "When is the next window?"
The projection seemed to respond to his question directly, though Jin understood it was likely a predicted inquiry. "The current temporal window begins with the activation of the Origin Point and extends for precisely 72 hours. After this period, the natural threshold supportive conditions will dissipate, making complete circuit activation impossible until the next cycle."
Jin-Ah looked at the timestamp on Dr. Park's equipment. "The Origin Point was activated yesterday evening. That means..."
"We have less than two days left," Jin finished, the urgency of their situation becoming painfully clear.
The projection shifted, displaying a detailed map of Seoul with two points illuminated that hadn't been activated yet—one near the Central Plaza and another at the Han River.
"Points Six and Seven must be activated in sequence," Dr. Seo's projection explained. "Unlike the previous points, these final coordinates require both genetic and mathematical keys simultaneously, meaning Jin and Jin-Ah must be physically present together."
Dr. Park was documenting everything, his earlier excitement replaced by focused determination. "The circuit design is revolutionary. It creates stable threshold pathways without the chaotic energy dispersion of a breach."
The projection continued, "Once the circuit is complete, a temporary but stable pathway will form, allowing movement between normal space and the Between-Space. This is your window to reach me and retrieve the final research that explains how to permanently stabilize the circuit."
Jin leaned forward intently. "And rescue you?"
Again, the projection seemed to anticipate the question. "My physical condition has been altered by prolonged exposure to the Between-Space. Return to normal space may not be possible in my current state. However, communication and research transfer remain primary objectives."
Jin-Ah's hand tightened on Jin's. "What does that mean? What's happened to him?"
The projection flickered slightly, its patterns reorganizing. "Threshold integration occurs progressively with extended exposure. My current integration level is approximately 64%, resulting in physiological changes similar to those you may have observed in the Evolved. However, unlike their approach, I have maintained cognitive individuality and research focus."
"He's becoming like them," Jin whispered, remembering the Evolved woman's words at the research building.
"The Evolved seek complete threshold merger," the projection continued. "They believe the natural evolution of humanity involves integration with threshold reality. Their approach would create a catastrophic merger event, unlike the controlled, directed pathways of the circuit. They must not be allowed to control the convergence points."
Dr. Park looked grim. "This confirms our worst fears about their agenda."
The projection began to destabilize, the image of Dr. Seo becoming less distinct. "Crystal energy reserves diminishing. Final critical information: The Division has been compromised. Evolved agents have infiltrated multiple levels. Trust established allies only. The coordinates for Points Six and Seven are now transferring to the crystal's surface matrix."
The crystal's surface began to change, new patterns emerging on its facets.
"Jin, your abilities will continue to develop rapidly as you interact with more convergence points. Jin-Ah, your mathematical perception is the stabilizing element that prevents threshold corruption. Together, you are the key to completing what I started." The projection was fading, Dr. Seo's form becoming increasingly transparent. "Remember, the circuit is both a bridge and a barrier. Complete it before—"
The message cut off, the holographic display collapsing back into the crystal, which now displayed new geometric patterns on its surface.
Jin slowly removed his hand, feeling drained from the intense connection. "Before what? What was he going to say?"
Jin-Ah was already photographing the new patterns on the crystal. "The coordinates are here. I can decode these."
Dr. Park was reviewing the recorded data, his expression oscillating between excitement and concern. "This confirms my theories about the circuit's purpose, but the timeline..." He looked up at Jin and Jin-Ah. "You have less than 48 hours to activate two convergence points with both Division and Evolved in pursuit."
Jin stood, determination hardening his resolve. "Then we need to move fast. But first—" he turned to Tae-Woo, "—we need to rescue Dr. Ha."
Tae-Woo nodded, already accessing a secure communication terminal. "I've been working on that while you were accessing the crystal. I have contacts in the Underground Network with Division facility experience."
"Is it possible?" Jin-Ah asked. "Breaking into a Division detention center sounds suicidal."
"Not breaking in," Tae-Woo corrected. "Intercepting during transport. My sources indicate Dr. Ha is scheduled for transfer to a higher security facility tomorrow evening."
Dr. Park looked up from his analysis. "That timing is problematic. If you're rescuing Dr. Ha tomorrow evening, that leaves very little time for the convergence point activations before the temporal window closes."
Jin closed his eyes briefly, considering their options. The silver lines of his perception revealed pathways and connections, potential routes through the challenges ahead.
"We'll need to split the preparation," he decided, opening his eyes. "Jin-Ah and Dr. Park can analyze the crystal data and prepare for the point activations while Tae-Woo and I plan the rescue operation."
Tae-Woo nodded approvingly. "Efficient approach. I know someone who can help with the extraction planning—Network infiltration specialist named Su-Min. She has experience with Division security systems."
Dr. Park was already setting up a dedicated workstation for Jin-Ah. "I'll help decrypt the exact coordinates and prepare the necessary equipment for the activations."
Jin-Ah looked concerned. "We're really going to attempt both a Division infiltration and two convergence point activations in less than 48 hours?"
Jin's expression was resolute. "We don't have a choice. The temporal window won't wait, and we're not leaving Dr. Ha in Division custody."
As they separated to begin their respective tasks, Jin couldn't help wondering what his father had been about to say before the message cut off. The circuit is both a bridge and a barrier. Complete it before... what?
The answer, he suspected, would determine not just his father's fate, but potentially much more.
Dr. Ha's interrogation had continued for hours, Agent Song methodically working through standard Division protocols while occasionally slipping coded messages through careful word choice and subtle gestures. The dance was exhausting for both women—maintaining the appearance of adversarial interrogation while communicating critical information beneath Division surveillance.
When Agent Song finally left the room, Ha was returned to her cell—a small, austere room with threshold dampening technology embedded in the walls. The constant low-level interference created a mental fog that made concentration difficult, a deliberate design feature to wear down threshold-sensitive detainees.
She sat on the narrow bed, closing her eyes to review what she had learned. Director Choi's open acknowledgment of the Evolved faction suggested a significant shift in Division priorities. Song's warning about multiple interested parties implied something more complex than simple Division containment protocols.
The cell door opened, and a Division medical officer entered with a small cart of monitoring equipment.
"Scheduled medical assessment," the officer announced dispassionately.
Ha recognized the standard procedure—detainees were regularly monitored for physical and psychological responses to interrogation. The data would be used to refine subsequent questioning.
As the officer attached monitoring electrodes to Ha's temples and wrists, he leaned slightly closer than necessary. "Network is aware," he whispered, so quietly Ha almost missed it. "Transfer tomorrow, 1900 hours. Route through Seongdong district."
Ha kept her expression neutral, giving no indication she had heard anything unusual. A Network operative embedded in Division medical personnel—she wouldn't have thought it possible, yet it aligned with Song's coded messages about preparing for extraction.
The officer completed his assessment with clinical efficiency, recorded his findings on a tablet, and left without another word. The entire interaction lasted less than five minutes, but the information it contained was priceless.
Tomorrow evening, a rescue would be attempted. Ha only hoped Jin wouldn't risk himself unnecessarily for her sake. The circuit completion had to take priority—her own research had confirmed that temporal windows in threshold phenomena were unforgiving. Miss the window, and everything they'd worked for could be lost.
She lay back on the narrow bed, conserving her strength for what would undoubtedly be a challenging day ahead. As she drifted toward exhausted sleep, she thought of Jin and Jin-Ah—the children of her mentor, now carrying the burden of completing his work. She had to believe they would succeed, for all their sakes.
Back at the Network facility, Jin stood before a holographic display of the Division Interrogation Center and surrounding streets. Su-Min, the infiltration specialist Tae-Woo had mentioned, was reviewing the transport route information they'd received from their inside source.
Su-Min was not what Jin had expected. Small and slight, with close-cropped hair and intense eyes, she had an unassuming presence that somehow commanded attention. She moved with fluid precision, every gesture economical and purposeful.
"The transport will follow this route," she said, highlighting a path through the city streets. "Standard Division protocol uses two escort vehicles with the transport van in the middle. Four agents minimum, likely six given Dr. Ha's classification level."
Jin studied the route, his Path Finding ability revealing something unexpected. "There's a threshold weak-point here," he said, pointing to an intersection. "And another one here, near this underpass."
Su-Min looked at him with new interest. "You can see threshold weak-points in city infrastructure?"
"Recent development," Jin explained. "The silver lines show me where threshold energy naturally concentrates or thins."
Su-Min nodded, reassessing the plan with this new information. "That's extremely valuable. If we time our intercept to coincide with one of these weak-points, your abilities could provide an advantage against Division containment measures."
Tae-Woo joined them, bringing up additional security schematics. "The transport vehicle will have standard threshold dampening technology to prevent Walking during transit. We'll need to disable it before extraction."
"I can handle that," Su-Min said confidently. "The real challenge will be timing. We'll have a narrow window between checkpoints, and Division response teams will deploy immediately when the transport misses its scheduled check-in."
Jin traced the route with his finger, his Path Finding ability revealing something else—a narrow silver thread connecting several buildings along the route. "There's a maintenance access tunnel here, running parallel to the main street. It's not on these schematics."
Su-Min's eyebrows rose. "You're sure?"
Jin nodded. "The silver lines don't lie. It's an older utility tunnel, probably decommissioned when they updated the infrastructure, but it's still there."
Tae-Woo quickly cross-referenced with historical city plans. "He's right. It's not on current maps because it was sealed during renovations fifteen years ago, but if it's still physically present..."
"It gives us a covered approach and extraction route," Su-Min finished, a note of respect entering her voice. "That changes our options significantly."
As they continued planning, Jin felt a strange sensation—a subtle pull in his threshold perception, as if something was trying to attract his attention. He looked around the facility but saw nothing unusual.
"Jin?" Tae-Woo asked, noticing his distraction.
"Something feels..." Jin began, then shook his head. "Never mind. Let's focus on the extraction plan."
They worked for several more hours, developing a detailed operation with contingencies for various scenarios. When they had a solid plan in place, Jin finally allowed himself a break, walking to the workstation where Jin-Ah and Dr. Park were analyzing the crystal data.
Jin-Ah looked up as he approached, her eyes red-rimmed from hours of focused work. "How's the rescue planning going?"
"We have a solid approach," Jin replied, leaning against the workstation. "What about the convergence points?"
Dr. Park looked up from his calculations. "Your sister is remarkable. She's decrypted the exact coordinates for both Points Six and Seven. Point Six is located in an underground service area beneath Central Seoul Plaza. Point Seven is integrated into the architecture of the Floating Islands on the Han River."
Jin-Ah pulled up a map display. "The complexity increases with each point. These final two require precise mathematical sequences during activation—sequences I need to calculate based on the current threshold resonance patterns."
"Can you do it?" Jin asked.
Jin-Ah nodded confidently. "With Dr. Park's equipment to measure the threshold frequencies, yes. But Jin..." she hesitated, concern evident in her expression, "these activations will put tremendous strain on you. The crystal data includes your father's observations about threshold integration effects on the activator."
"Meaning me," Jin said quietly.
Dr. Park looked uncomfortable. "Your father's notes indicate that each activation increases threshold integration levels. The final points will accelerate the process significantly."
"Like what's happening to Dad?" Jin asked, remembering the altered appearance of his father in the crystal's projection.
"Similar, but not identical," Dr. Park clarified. "Your father's integration resulted from prolonged exposure in the Between-Space. Yours is from direct interaction with convergence points, which creates a different integration pattern. But the fundamental concern remains—threshold energy is gradually altering your physical makeup."
Jin thought of the silver flecks he'd noticed in his eyes that morning, the occasional sensation of energy flowing beneath his skin. "Is it dangerous?"
"Unknown," Dr. Park admitted. "Your father's research suggests the genetic key provides some protection against cognitive degradation, but the physical changes are inevitable with continued exposure."
Jin absorbed this information silently. The cost of completing his father's work was becoming increasingly personal, but the alternative—leaving Dr. Seo trapped and allowing the Evolved to force a catastrophic merger—was unthinkable.
"It doesn't change anything," he said finally. "We still need to complete the circuit."
Jin-Ah squeezed his hand. "We'll monitor the changes carefully. I'm not letting you turn into something else, Jin."
He managed a smile. "I'm counting on that."
The strange pulling sensation returned, stronger this time. Jin turned, his threshold perception focusing on a distant corner of the facility where several researchers were working with specialized equipment.
"Jin?" Jin-Ah asked, noticing his sudden alertness.
"Something's wrong," he said quietly, his Path Finding ability revealing unusual patterns in the silver lines near the research area. "The threshold signatures over there... they're not right."
Dr. Park looked alarmed. "What do you mean?"
Before Jin could answer, Tae-Woo approached rapidly, his expression grim. "We have a problem. Communications security has detected an encrypted transmission leaving the facility. Someone's transmitting information about our location."
The realization hit Jin like a physical blow. "There's a traitor in the Network."
Tae-Woo nodded grimly. "And they just compromised our position and likely our rescue operation plans."
The facility's alarm system activated, casting pulsing red light across the complex. Dr. Park was already moving, securing the crystal data on portable storage devices.
"We need to relocate immediately," he said urgently. "This facility has emergency evacuation protocols for exactly this scenario."
Jin stared in the direction where he'd sensed the unusual threshold signature, understanding now what his abilities had been trying to tell him. Someone in the Network had betrayed them, and with less than 48 hours before the temporal window closed, they were once again on the run.
The race against time had just become significantly more complicated.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Ability [Threshold Signature Recognition Level 1] has awakened!
Author's Note: The plot thickens as our team races against the clock! Who do you think is the Network traitor? And what do you make of Dr. Seo's transformation in the Between-Space? The next chapter will feature the daring rescue operation and our first real glimpse of the Evolved faction in action! Share your theories in the comments!
Coming Next: Chapter 10: Extraction Point - Jin and the Network team launch a daring rescue operation to free Dr. Ha from Division custody, while a dangerous encounter with the Evolved faction reveals their true power and agenda.