Since then, he had often seen Min Yugeon. They usually met at Yugeon’s house or somewhere outside rather than at his own, which was located within the restricted zone. Technically, Min Sanghan—his parents’ close colleague and fellow researcher—had clearance to bring his family into their home, so it would’ve been possible.
But just as Min Yugeon had said, he was someone with a packed schedule. Forget coming over to the house—he rarely had time to attend any gatherings at all.
With Min Sanghan frequently absent, his parents grew closer to Lee Minha through more frequent conversations. When a situation arose that required them to be away from home, they asked Lee Minha to look after him.
“What do we do now?”
And everything fell apart that very day.
Today was the day of the academic conference attended by all the ship’s researchers, including his mother, father, and Min Sanghan. But the woman who had agreed to watch him—Lee Minha—sent word at the last minute that she was suddenly unwell. She had a high fever and could barely move, so it was unthinkable to burden her with a child on top of that.
“Taking care of Yugeon alone must be hard enough for her.”
“Exactly. Her voice sounded terrible.”
His mother, clearly worried and troubled, tapped her watch after finishing a call with Lee Minha. Then his father began contacting a few acquaintances, including the babysitter who had once looked after him, but no one was available.
He hesitated for a moment, then spoke up.
“Mom, Dad.”
“Yeah?”
“Just go ahead. I can stay home by myself.”
“What…?”
His parents looked flustered, shaking their heads and wrapping their arms around his shoulders. They wore guilty expressions, upset with themselves for making him feel the need to say such a thing. He closed his mouth. He really was fine… but his opinion was quietly dismissed.
In that moment of uncertainty, someone stepped up to help their family—Ji Chanwoo. He had already come outside, preparing to leave for Min Yugeon’s place, when he noticed something strange in his parents’ troubled expressions. As he approached and heard the situation, he immediately offered to watch over him himself.
“I feel bad even asking this, Lieutenant. We must be causing you such trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all. Technically, it’s not even a violation of duty.”
“Thank you so much.”
His mother and father kept thanking Ji Chanwoo as they hugged him tightly before heading off. Ji Chanwoo ruffled his hair, calling him “so mature” for seeing them off, and his hair instantly turned into a bird’s nest.
“…Huh?”
They had returned inside and were sitting in the living room watching a kids’ channel.
All of a sudden, Ji Chanwoo looked down at his feet. He followed his gaze. There was nothing unusual—just the neatly laid carpet. Confused, he looked up at Ji Chanwoo.
“What is it?”
“….”
Ji Chanwoo muted the TV. With neither of them speaking, the room fell eerily silent.
Then Ji Chanwoo shook his head.
“No, never mind. I must’ve imagined it.”
“?”
Imagined what? He blinked as Ji Chanwoo turned the sound back on and the animated voices once again filled the room.
On the screen, the protagonist, armed with a blunt spear and shield, encountered a monster during his adventure. The monster glared down from the peak of a small mountain while the startled protagonist sweated profusely. Apparently terrified by the sight of a real monster for the first time, the character’s eyes spun in exaggerated circles.
— KWAOOORGH!
The monster leaped from the cliff it had been standing on. The moment it landed in front of the protagonist, a heavy THUD echoed, as if the ground beneath their feet had truly shaken.
“Suho.”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to head downstairs for a moment. Keep watching this, okay?”
“Okay.”
He was so absorbed in the animation that he responded automatically. Ji Chanwoo quietly stood up. The soft couch, which had been sunken under his weight, slowly rose back up.
Time passed as he watched, tension gripping him through the final scenes. In the end, the protagonist defeated the monster and hopped around joyfully. The story wasn’t as long as expected, but it had been fun. As the upbeat ending theme played, he suddenly noticed the empty space beside him.
Right—where did he say he was going?
“…Downstairs.”
He mumbled the word and widened his eyes. Then he looked back down at the spot Ji Chanwoo had been eyeing earlier. If it was down there…
Without hesitation, he jumped off the couch and dashed toward a spot he’d only ever curiously peeked at before.
Unlike the staircase that connected the second floor to the first, the stairs leading from the first floor to the basement were hidden from view—seamlessly integrated into the flooring. What had once looked like an ordinary, flat stretch of the living room floor was now wide open.
It wasn’t particularly surprising that Ji Chanwoo had managed to get inside a password-locked area. He had seen him enter the basement alongside his father on the very first day they moved in. As the commanding officer of the soldiers guarding the vicinity, Ji Chanwoo had clearance to access the basement in case of emergency.
He gazed down into the softly lit space below. It was the perfect chance to explore a place he’d always been curious about. A surge of uncontrollable curiosity cut through his mind.
Eventually, he carefully stepped onto the stairs.
“……”
But a challenge greeted him from the start—the staircase seemed to go on forever. He moved his arms and legs with purpose, descending step after step. A few times, he nearly stumbled, but he barely managed to catch his balance each time and avoided falling.
Once he stepped off the final stair and planted his feet on the ground, he looked around. A small breath escaped him, laced with awe. Even though it was technically a basement, this was still a ship. How such a vast space existed within the structure was astonishing.
It was even larger than the living quarters above. Thick columns rose at intervals throughout, and each door lining the walls seemed to hint at a different mystery behind it. The unfamiliar and empty space naturally stirred a sense of tension as well.
His now-chilled, sweat-dried hands slipped into his pockets. His fingertips brushed against a hard object.
“Ah.”
It was the cube Min Yugeon had given him. Fiddling with the cube he’d played with as often as he ate brought a sense of comfort.
He wandered, looking around as he walked aimlessly, his steps soft and careful. That’s when he noticed a single hidden passage, cleverly obscured behind one of the columns. Instinctively, he sensed this was the most important place of all. Without hesitation, he headed straight for it.
BANG!
A sudden, thunderous noise rang out from somewhere. Startled, he flinched—and in that instant, something at the end of the passage met his gaze.
“……!”
It wasn’t a person glaring at him with its forehead pressed against the transparent wall.
A face framed by a thick mane of tawny fur. Almond-shaped, golden eyes. A massive body draped in sleek, gleaming fur.
…It was a beast.
A real one. His mouth fell open in shock. It looked nothing like the soft, round, cutesy versions he’d seen in books or videos. This beast radiated raw, sharp hostility. It wasn’t some amusing or whimsical creature. If anything, it was the kind of thing that could give a fragile person nightmares for days.
And yet, more than fear…
He stared intently through the barrier.
Its form, so utterly different from a human’s, and the intense, almost oppressive presence it gave off—it all appeared majestic to him. Far from being disappointed, he found himself captivated by how unlike anything he’d imagined it was.
He stepped closer, locking eyes with the beast. Its jagged teeth clicked together ominously.
“Hi.”
Grrrr…
A low, indistinct rumble vibrated from its throat. As he came closer, the beast’s eyes, which had been wide and alert, began to narrow. It lifted its forehead from the glass and, with slitted eyes, held his gaze.
Those massive front paws—each one capable of swatting his body away with a single strike—slowly drew in their sharp, bluish claws.
“My name’s Seo Suho.”
……
“What’s your name?”
……
The beast said nothing, only staring into his eyes.
He realized he’d asked something foolish. There was no way a beast could speak human language. A sigh slipped out, tinged with regret that they couldn’t communicate. Just in case, he searched around, hoping to find a name tag or some kind of explanation, but it was a wasted effort.
He moved a little closer to the silent creature. As he laid a hand on the transparent wall, a chill seeped into his skin.
Why had it been so furious just moments ago?
“…If you charge at someone like that again, you might get hurt.”
He spoke gently, gazing at a creature so large it couldn’t even be fully taken in at a glance. Maybe Ji Chanwoo had heard the loud banging and come down here. Though he didn’t know where he’d gone, he was probably somewhere nearby.
“Were you frustrated?”
The beast glanced back into the space behind it. While the enclosure wasn’t so small that it couldn’t move, it definitely didn’t look like a place where it could roam freely.
“Or… are you hungry?”
The creature’s ears perked up at that. He froze.
