“Woonie, that won’t do. It’s not that hard to tell someone my name.”
“Yes, hyung.”
At those few words, the tension in the room dissolved. Tae Woon softened like a docile lamb and smiled brightly again. Gwak Yoonsang, who had been uncertain, was now completely convinced. The person who could hold the leash of this mad dog that no one had ever managed to control—was standing right here.
“My name is Kim Sibaek. I think I need to head out now, but I’ll explain things in more detail next time.”
“Ah, of course, of course. Please don’t hesitate to contact me anytime.”
“Should I ask for Section Chief Gwak Yoonsang at the Paranormal Phenomena Response Agency?”
“That’ll work, but here, let me give you my card, just in case.”
“Hyung, let’s go.”
As soon as Tae Woon snatched the business card printed with “Gwak Yoonsang, Section Chief, Support Division 3, Paranormal Phenomena Response Agency,” he swung the door open. Prompted by his rush, Kim Sibaek quickly grabbed two packs of snacks meant for Biendeoé, said his farewell to Gwak Yoonsang, and stepped outside.
The moment the two left, Gwak Yoonsang immediately pulled out his phone. There were a lot of unanswered questions—how Kim Sibaek possessed multiple abilities, why he referred to himself as Tae Woon’s hyung despite appearing younger—but the priority was clear.
“Kim Sibaek. Dig up everything on this guy—every last detail!”
Kim Sibaek was surprised to find that Tae Woon had a car—and even more shocked to see a driver’s license. The boy had once been too young to get even a scooter license… When had he grown so much…?
[Death and Beauty criticizes me, saying Tae Woon’s far less impressive than its Apostle.]
The car rolled to a stop in front of a building in a bustling downtown area.
“This is your company?”
“Technically, it’s a guild. Hunters—people who’ve awakened powers and hunt monstrous beasts—we call them Hunters. Think of it like a mercenary or contractor agency that manages those Hunters.”
“So basically, you’re the boss here? How’d such a tiny thing come up with the idea to start a company?”
Feeling immensely proud of him, Kim Sibaek gave Tae Woon’s butt a few affectionate pats, just like in the old days. Tae Woon flinched, his ears turning slightly red. When he held his card key to the scanner, the private elevator brought them—car and all—straight to the top floor.
It was the penthouse floor, where Tae Woon lived instead of renting a separate place.
The panoramic view from the wide windows of the penthouse was breathtaking, but they didn’t have time to stand and admire it—there was too much to catch up on. When Kim Sibaek came out after washing up, a change of clothes and dinner had already been prepared.
“I kept some clothes here in case I ever got to see hyung again.”
The pajamas fit him perfectly. He tossed his shrine robes into the washing machine. Even Biendeoé, who had bathed with him, looked fluffy and freshly groomed.
The meal had been ordered in but was a neat and traditional Korean set.
It had been 70 years since he’d eaten food from his homeland—it was good, yes, but that was all. It didn’t overwhelm him with joy or taste particularly exceptional.
During his years living in Mak Slechth, the memories that dulled first were of food and culture. What he’d clung to until the very end were the children at the orphanage, who were like family. And Tae Woon—he had never let go of Tae Woon.
Kim Sibaek reflected on his foolish past self, unable to let go even when it was futile. But not letting go had been the right call. It allowed him to recognize Tae Woon right away.
As they ate, they began to fill in the missing pieces of each other’s lives.
“So only 21 years passed since the day I disappeared? And since then, those monstrous beasts began appearing, and people started awakening special powers? And you’re already 35 now… Unreal…”
“What shocks me more is that you lived 70 years in another world. You still look exactly the same as you used to.”
“I’m basically a grandpa now.”
With a chuckle, Kim Sibaek gestured to Biendeoé, who was dozing on top of his head.
“Apostles and Paladins of the cult are priests chosen directly by the gods. Thanks to the gods’ blessings, we don’t age while under their protection.”
“Hmm.”
It was hard to believe that a tiny baby crow was a divine incarnation, but Tae Woon accepted it without showing doubt.
“So hyung was a priest in that place… what was it? Mak Slechth?”
“Smart boy. Got it right away. To put it simply, among those who serve the gods, the head of the priests is the Apostle, the head of the holy knights is the Paladin. Above them all is the Pope.”
Roughly speaking, the Apostle enacts divine miracles, while the Paladin handles divine combat.
“Honestly, I thought if you had gone to another world, you’d end up being some kind of sword-wielding knight or mercenary.”
“I did double as a holy knight at one point. Back then, we were just a tiny cult. Still aren’t that big now, to be honest.”
“I knew it.”
“We were so obscure that most people didn’t even know a god called Death and Beauty existed.”
As Kim Sibaek smiled fondly, lost in memories, Tae Woon’s gaze subtly narrowed, then smoothly returned to his usual expression.
“I always thought those monsters only appeared in Mak Slechth, but they’re showing up here too… I have no idea how that’s even possible.”
“There are researchers trying to figure it out, but no one’s cracked it yet. People were in chaos at first, but after 21 years… we’ve more or less adapted.”
After clearing the empty bowls, Tae Woon brought out a pear. Seeing him with a knife made Kim Sibaek nervous, so he quickly fetched a paring knife and peeled it himself.
Having had the blade taken from him, Tae Woon rubbed his fingers and smiled softly.
“Lord Biendeoé, have some fruit.”
Biendeoé, who loved fruit, rubbed its eyes with its wing and fluttered over to the table. A few small slices of pear were placed on a dish.
[Death and Beauty deems this world’s food passable enough to eat.]
Watching the baby crow nibble on the fruit could’ve seemed adorable or curious, but Tae Woon’s gaze remained flat and expressionless.
By the time they had finished the pear together, seated side by side, Kim Sibaek finally resolved to ask the question he had been deliberately putting off. To manage his nerves, he gave the tabletop a light tap.
“A lot of people died when those monsters started appearing, didn’t they?”
“The population dropped sharply. I figure global warming might be delayed by about three centuries at this rate.”
“Then, um… what about the others?”
Though vague, Tae Woon understood immediately. The connection they shared with those people was singular and absolute. He responded with casual indifference, as if it weren’t anything worth noting.
“Everyone’s doing fine on their own. The priest’s term ended, so he was transferred somewhere else, but the sisters from the orphanage moved down to Daejeon with us. The kids all got older and scattered here and there, but none of them got seriously hurt or died.”
“…They’re all safe?”
“Of course.”
With that cool reassurance, the tension drained from Kim Sibaek’s shoulders. He let out a breath of relief, hand brushing down over his chest. The orphanage had been both a sanctuary and a home for two boys cast into the world as orphans.
“I awakened during the Cataclysm, and a few of the other kids awakened at the same time. They became Hunters too, and they’re in my guild now.”
“Really? Who?”
“Minhyung, Gaeun, Eunho, and Hangyeol. Oh, and Sister Benedicta awakened too—not as a Hunter, but still.”
Each name brought a vivid memory surging to the surface. They had awakened young and faced monsters head-on—surely a grueling ordeal—but now, to hear that they had made it through safely… His chest tightened with emotion, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Twenty-one years had passed, so of course they must have grown a lot—just like Tae Woon. The sisters must be quite old by now. It wasn’t just a reunion with Tae Woon—he would be able to see everyone. When he was first thrown back to Earth, the suddenness had left him confused—but not hopeless. Moments like this proved that good things could still happen.
“Same guild, huh? That’s great. Well, it’s getting late, so… I’ll be able to see them tomorrow, right?”
His voice carried an eager excitement, but the mood in the room suddenly sank. Before Kim Sibaek could ask why, Tae Woon quickly turned the mood around and smiled brightly.
“Tomorrow’s Sunday, and some of them are off.”
“Ah, Sunday, huh?”
A day off—of course they’d all have different plans. Unaware of the awkwardness in Tae Woon’s voice, Kim Sibaek simply swallowed his disappointment. He’d waited decades longing for this reunion; what was a few more days? He could wait as long as needed.
“Some of them don’t even pick up their phones on holidays.”
Tae Woon chuckled, deliberately exaggerating the excuse, and shifted the topic naturally.
“You’re staying here tonight, right?”
“Where else would I stay, if not here? Should we sleep together like we used to?”
“Come on, hyung. Who knows what I’d do to you.”
Whatever he did, it would only be welcome—so Kim Sibaek replied with a laugh.
***
After guiding Kim Sibaek to the guest room, Tae Woon quietly shut the door. Blinking slowly, he shifted his gaze across the space where Kim Sibaek had just disappeared from view.
Darkness began to slither up from the floor, swiftly swallowing the room whole. The moonlight that had dimly shone through the panoramic window, the lights of the city, the electric glow of lamps—all vanished without a trace.
In that perfect darkness, Tae Woon walked slowly toward his room. He settled into a recliner and closed his eyes. As his breathing quieted, he looked more corpse-like than living, his presence chilling and still.
Then, he raised a gloved hand to his left chest and gently brushed over the spot. A voice rang out from beyond the darkness—neither clearly male nor female, neither young nor old. It was layered, overlapping in pitch and tone, an eerie amalgamation that resonated deeply.
[Do you not regret it?]
“Regret?”
Tae Woon let out a soft scoff. Then he repeated the word again and again, tasting it.
“Regret, regret, regret… I’ve been choking on that shit since I was five.”
The lifeless muttering, void of any emotion, dissolved quietly into the black.
