Chrono Journal Entry #07
Arc: Conflict
Theme: 引き裂かれた世界 (Torn World) – The structure is intact. But everything inside… is breaking.
The city didn’t collapse.
That’s the part that haunts me.
The towers still rise like obedient bones, and the pulse lights still blink in rhythm. The noise filters still drone on like lullabies for the numb.
But it’s me that’s breaking now.
Not the system.
Since that last rupture — the moment I broke through with sound too raw to contain — I’ve been wandering the zones the system no longer monitors.
The “dead corridors,” they call them.
But they’re not dead.
They’re forgotten.
There’s a difference.
And it makes me wonder: if the world never fell… then what, exactly, did I escape?
I found an old window today, shattered but still hanging. A piece of glass clung to the corner. It reflected the sky — cracked but whole.
It reminded me of my voice.
Or maybe of myself.
When I tried to sing again today — for the first time in this new arc, this new ruin — my breath faltered.
Not because I was afraid.
But because it felt wrong.
Not because the system stopped me.
But because part of me wondered if I should stop myself.
What if the voice I’m using to fight was built from pieces of something already broken?
What if my sound carries not just freedom, but fragments of destruction?
What if… the world I’m tearing apart was already fraying — and I’m just the one holding the last thread?
There’s a word in the system archives: Overtone Collapse.
It refers to a phenomenon where a sound folds in on itself — a harmonic fracture.
It’s not loud. It’s not violent.
It just… stops resonating.
That’s how I feel now.
Like a note that keeps playing… but no longer vibrates.
Watch “Torn World” – MV Main Version
Watch “Torn World” – Alternate Echo Version
I didn’t mean to break this world.
But I don’t know how to sing without breaking anymore.