Mission Beyond Time

CHAPTER 1: The Bridge Between Two Worlds The wailing sirens cut through the night, echoing across the quiet streets as the police car sped down the highway. Officer Allyssa Manalo gripped the steering wheel tightly, eyes sharp, steady. She had no time to lose. “Kidnappers. Dalawang suspect. Isa ang may hawak sa bata,” her partner barked through the radio. “Allyssa, ‘yan na sila!” A black van swerved into view, weaving recklessly through traffic. Allyssa's gaze hardened. “Hindi sila pwedeng makatakas.” She rolled her window down, raised her service pistol, and—with precise control—fired. Bang! The rear tire exploded. The van skidded, fishtailed, then screeched to a halt on the middle of an old steel bridge. The bridge groaned beneath them, its rusted frame humming strangely under the weight of the moment. “Go!” she shouted. Both doors flew open. She and her partner charged forward. The suspects scrambled out. One of them yanked a child—dirty, bruised, terrified—from the backseat and held him tight. The other tried to flee but was tackled by Allyssa's partner. “Bitawan mo ‘yung bata!” Allyssa shouted, gun trained on the man. “Lumapit ka pa, itutulak ko ‘to!” he barked, lifting the child toward the edge. The river below roared wildly. Allyssa’s breath caught. She stepped forward, slow and calm. “Okay… okay… kalma lang.” She lowered her weapon and gently placed it on the ground. “Wala kang kailangang gawin na ikapapahamak ng bata, okay? Pwede nating ayusin ‘to.” (Gagi. Please. Huwag mong saktan ang bata.) The man’s hands trembled. “Bitawan mo na siya. Ako na lang. Ako na lang!” She dashed forward just as he loosened his grip. The boy screamed, slipping from the man's hands—but Allyssa was faster. She lunged, arms wide, and caught the child midair, twisting her body to shield him. And then— BANG! 💥 A sharp pain tore through her chest. Her eyes widened. Blood bloomed across her uniform. A third suspect—one she hadn’t seen—stepped out of the van, gun still raised. “Allyssa!!!” her partner’s voice cracked, horrified. “NO!” Her knees gave out. She clutched the boy tighter as they both tumbled over the rail. “ALLYSSA!!!” The wind howled past them. Then the cold river swallowed them whole. 🌀✨🌀✨🌀✨🌀✨🌀 The world dissolved. ⏳✨⏳✨⏳✨⏳✨⏳ Pain. Cold. Heat. A strange tingling beneath her skin. Her head spun. Her lungs burned. Parang… sinusunog siya sa loob. Then it was ice. Then fire again. And then— A voice. Soft. Ethereal. As if it came from inside a dream. “Doraon geos-eul hwan-yeonghamnida…” (Welcome back…) Who was that? The voice echoed gently in her mind, melodic and faraway. (‘Teh… ang ganda ng boses. Para akong hinihila sa panaginip…) Then—silence. Voices. Muffled. Foreign. “Dalraeneun anjeojuseyo…” (Please sit the lady up...) “Eongmang haebonikka… gyesok haejuseyo…” (She is brave… Please continue...) She forced her eyes open—just a sliver. Where…? A wooden ceiling. Lantern light. The scent of herbs. May amoy na parang luya at luma. A wrinkled man in white robes sat beside her, pressing something warm to her chest. (A-anong… nangyayari…?) Her vision blurred. She blinked again. May tumutulo sa noo niya. Pawis ba ‘to? Dugo? Langis? Her body ached. Her chest throbbed. May tinatahi ba siya? (OHMYGOD. Buhay pa ba ‘ko? Wait. Patay na ba ‘ko?!) Just before darkness took her again, she saw the child—clean, dressed in white and pale blue robes. Unharmed. His hair pulled into a small topknot. He looked… like he belonged here. Standing by the door was a beautiful woman in a flowing hanbok, watching her silently. She shimmered—like moonlight on river water. Her hanbok rippled though there was no breeze. Her eyes were kind, knowing, yet distant. She almost looked… unreal. (‘Teh, ano ‘to? Joseon era? Historical drama? Ba’t parang ang ganda mo kahit blurred ang paningin ko?) The woman said nothing. Just… watched. And as Allyssa’s eyes fluttered shut, the mysterious lady faded softly, like mist in the morning. Then open. Then shut. She felt fabric. Something thick wrapped around her body. Her wounds were covered, her skin damp from what felt like warm compresses. Someone was wiping her arms gently. A soft whisper. A prayer? A spell? She blinked again. This time, the ceiling looked older, darker. May kandila. May basang tela sa noo niya. “Dokjeon-i ssodaji anke… joesonghamnida…” (Please let the poison not spread... forgive me…) What the hell are they saying? (Am I dead?) (Or worse—isekai na ba ‘ko?!) “Dream lang ‘to. Guni-guni lang ‘to. Pagod lang ako. Med school pa ba ‘ko?!—Ay, hindi nga pala. Pulis nga pala ‘ko,” she mumbled. (Shet. Ako ba ‘yung bida sa sariling K-drama.) And then—nothing. Darkness cradled her like a heavy blanket. This time, she didn’t fight it.