Strings Of Fate:Fate Rewrite

The following morning started like any other, yet an inexplicable sense of unease lingered in the air. As I walked to school, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. The quiet hum of the neighborhood felt too still, almost as if the world was holding its breath.

When I arrived at the gates, Su Yong was waiting for me again, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

"Yo," he said, his usual smirk plastered across his face. "How's the mystery of Mirae going? Solved it yet, Sherlock?"

"Not even close," I muttered.

"Figures. You're way too obsessed with this."

"I'm not obsessed," I snapped.

Su Yong raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? 'Cause you look like you haven't stopped thinking about her since yesterday."

Before I could retort, the school bell rang, cutting our conversation short.

---

In class, Mirae's seat was conspicuously empty again. It wasn't unusual for her to skip, but after yesterday's encounter in the library, it felt significant. My mind raced with possibilities, none of them comforting.

Seulgi leaned over from her desk and poked my arm. "She's not here again. Think she's avoiding you?"

"Why would she do that?" I asked, trying to sound indifferent.

Seulgi shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe she's embarrassed. Or maybe she's got something bigger going on."

"Like what?"

"Beats me," she said, leaning back with a yawn. "But you're the one always staring at her. If anyone knows, it should be you."

Her words stung more than they should have.

---

At lunchtime, Su Yong and I grabbed our trays and headed to the usual spot under the tree. The courtyard buzzed with activity as students laughed, gossiped, and shouted across tables. Yet, amidst the noise, I felt oddly detached.

"You're really out of it," Su Yong said, biting into his sandwich.

"It's just... weird," I said.

"What is?"

"Mirae. Everything about her."

"Dude, you've got to chill," he said, shaking his head. "You're acting like she's the key to some ancient treasure or something."

"Maybe she is," I muttered under my breath.

Su Yong froze mid-bite, his expression somewhere between amusement and concern. "You're joking... right?"

I didn't answer.

---

After school, I found myself wandering again. My feet carried me through the hallways, past the library, and eventually to the rooftop—a place I rarely visited.

To my surprise, Mirae was there, sitting against the railing with her notebook open. She didn't look up as I approached, but I could tell she knew I was there.

"What are you doing up here?" I asked, leaning against the railing a few feet away from her.

She didn't answer immediately. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer than usual. "I needed some air."

"You weren't in class," I said, trying to keep my tone casual.

She glanced at me, her expression unreadable. "And you noticed?"

"Hard not to when everyone's talking about you."

Her lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "People love to talk."

I hesitated, then said, "Look, I'm sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have pushed you."

She closed her notebook and stood up, brushing off her skirt. "You're persistent, Jiho. I'll give you that."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"It can be," she said, turning to face me. "Sometimes, the truth isn't worth the cost."

I frowned. "You keep saying that, but you're not giving me a chance to decide for myself."

She studied me for a moment, then sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Not a chance."

For the first time, she seemed genuinely conflicted. Finally, she reached into her bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"Take this," she said, handing it to me.

"What is it?"

"Answers," she said cryptically. "Or at least, part of them. But don't open it until you're alone."

I took the paper, feeling its weight despite its lightness. "Why are you trusting me with this?"

"Because I don't have a choice," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

---

That night, I sat on my bed, the paper in my hand. The Fate Rewrite app hadn't buzzed all day, but I couldn't help feeling like this was connected.

Slowly, I unfolded the paper. Written in neat, precise handwriting were three words:

"The threads break."

Beneath the words was a drawing—a web of interwoven lines, with several threads frayed or snapped.

I stared at it, my chest tightening. What did this mean? And why did it feel like I was getting closer to something I couldn't come back from?

The app buzzed suddenly, making me jump. I grabbed my phone and opened it to find a new message:

"Progress increased: 30%. The third thread is unraveling."

The screen shifted to show an image of the web Mirae had drawn, now glowing faintly. One thread in particular pulsed with light, drawing my attention.

"What is this?" I muttered.

The app didn't answer, of course. But as I stared at the glowing thread, I felt an undeniable pull—like it was guiding me toward something.

Or someone.

I couldn't sleep that night. Mirae's cryptic note and the sudden activity from the app kept replaying in my mind. What was "the third thread," and why was it unraveling?

I grabbed my phone again, staring at the glowing thread on the screen. The pulsing light seemed to beckon me, urging me to do something—but what?

The app had a new option beneath the image: "Trace Thread."

My finger hovered over it for a moment before I tapped it. The screen flashed, and a map appeared. It showed a location not far from my neighborhood, a small red dot marking the destination.

"Great," I muttered. "Now it's sending me on a treasure hunt."

But I couldn't ignore the pull. Something about this felt urgent, like ignoring it would lead to something worse.

---

The next day, I decided to check out the location after school. I told Su Yong I had errands to run and slipped away before he could ask too many questions.

The marked spot turned out to be an abandoned playground, the kind of place that gave off eerie vibes even in broad daylight. Rusted swings creaked in the wind, and the merry-go-round lay tilted on its side, forgotten.

I looked around, feeling more than a little foolish. "What am I even doing here?" I muttered.

Just as I was about to leave, I noticed something scratched into the ground near the swings. A symbol—a circle with intersecting lines—identical to the one Mirae had drawn in her notebook.

"What the—?"

Before I could examine it further, the app buzzed again. This time, the screen displayed another cryptic message:

"Third thread severed. Connection lost."

The glowing thread on the app dimmed, and the map disappeared. My stomach twisted uneasily.

"Mirae," I whispered. Somehow, I knew this was about her.

---

The next day at school, Mirae was back in class, sitting quietly as though nothing had happened. Her calm demeanor irritated me. How could she act so normal when everything felt like it was spiraling out of control?

During lunch, I cornered her by the lockers. "We need to talk."

She didn't look surprised. "About what?"

"You know what," I said, holding up the note she'd given me. "What does this mean? And what's with the symbol at the playground?"

Her eyes widened briefly, but she quickly regained her composure. "You went there?"

"The app sent me," I said. "It's connected to this, isn't it?"

Mirae sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "Not here. Meet me after school."

"Where?"

"Rooftop," she said before walking away.

---

That afternoon, I made my way to the rooftop, half expecting her to bail. But she was there, leaning against the railing with her arms crossed.

"You shouldn't have gone to the playground," she said as soon as I arrived.

"Why not?" I asked. "What's going on, Mirae? You keep dropping hints but never explain anything."

She hesitated, then said, "There are things in this world you don't understand, Jiho. And the less you know, the safer you'll be."

"Don't give me that," I said, stepping closer. "I'm already involved, whether I like it or not. The app, the threads—whatever this is, I'm in it now. So stop trying to protect me and just tell me the truth."

Her expression softened, and for a moment, I thought she might actually tell me. But then she shook her head.

"Some truths aren't worth knowing," she said softly.

Frustration boiled over, and I clenched my fists. "You can't keep pushing me away, Mirae. If something happens, I won't just stand by and do nothing."

She looked at me, her gaze intense. "You don't understand what you're saying, Jiho. You can't save everyone. Sometimes, the threads break, and there's nothing you can do."

Her words hung in the air like a challenge.

"Maybe not," I said. "But I can try."

For the first time, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes—fear, hope, or maybe both. She looked away, her grip on the railing tightening.

"Be careful what you wish for," she said. "You might not like what you find."