They reached the central control room, their goal clear. But as the heavy doors slid open, revealing rows of control panels, Ken's eyes narrowed at the sight of a small but glaring red light flashing on the far wall.

"A bomb," Jun whispered, her gaze sharp and focused. She stepped forward instinctively, already analyzing the situation. Her training kicked in, each movement deliberate and precise as she examined the device.

Ken's heart clenched. He had always admired Jun's cool-headedness under pressure, but this wasn't just any mission—this was the Galactor base, and any misstep could mean disaster.And if she leaves…The thought struck him harder now, seeing her in action, as efficient and skilled as ever.How could I possibly manage without her?

"I can disarm it," Jun said, her voice calm, though Ken detected a slight edge of tension underneath. "But we're short on time."

The countdown on the bomb had already begun ticking. Ken checked his watch—it was cutting things close. He moved to stand guard, keeping an eye on the entrance as Jun knelt beside the bomb, her hands working swiftly.

As Jun dismantled the bomb's casing, her mind churned. She had done this a hundred times before, but tonight felt different. The weight of Nambu's offer pressed against her like a tightening knot in her chest. She had fought so long beside Ken, been by his side through every battle.But now… now, I could leave. If I wanted to. And if I leave, would he ever ask me to stay?

Her fingers deftly moved over the wires, her eyes locked on the mechanism. "Ken," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "If I leave, will you be okay?"

He turned to look at her, his face unreadable at first, before softening into something more vulnerable. "If you leave," he said slowly, "I don't think I'll ever be okay."

Jun's hands faltered for just a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly. It was the closest Ken had ever come to expressing his real feelings for her—more than just duty or the mission. She bit her lip as she focused on the wires, trying to push her emotions aside, but it wasn't easy.Do I want to stay because of the team… or because of him?

Ken's heart pounded. He had always prided himself on his ability to stay calm in any situation, but now, watching Jun disarm the bomb, he couldn't stop thinking about what her leaving would mean. The selfishness he carried burned inside him.I can't let her leave. I can't lose her.But what would asking her to stay mean? Holding her back? Trapping her?

The clock continued its deadly countdown. Jun exhaled slowly as she worked through the bomb's intricate wiring. "I've cut most of the detonation lines," she murmured. "But this last one… if I cut the wrong wire, it could blow."

Ken knelt beside her now, his hand on her shoulder, and said with quiet conviction, "Then we'll cut it together."

Jun's eyes flicked up to meet his. "Ken—"

"When we die," he interrupted, his voice steady but carrying the weight of their years of service together, "we die together."

Those words hung in the air between them, thick with meaning. They had always said it as a team, but here and now, it was something else entirely. It wasn't just about their loyalty to the mission—it was about them. The two of them. Together, in this impossible choice.

Jun swallowed hard. She knew what the motto meant, had lived by it, but in this moment, it felt more intimate than ever. She wasn't sure if it was her emotions or the pressure of the mission, but either way, it struck her deeply. They had always stood by each other, and the thought of facing death together—or life apart—was overwhelming.

She nodded, a small smile touching her lips, though her hands remained steady over the wires. "Okay," she whispered. "Together."

Her fingers moved quickly, and with a final sharp cut, the bomb deactivated. The countdown froze on the screen, and the red light blinked out, leaving them in a sudden silence.

Ken exhaled, his hand still on her shoulder, fingers tightening slightly. He didn't move. Neither did she. They were both frozen in the realization that what they had just done wasn't just about the bomb—it was about the choice they both faced. To stay together, or to let each other go.