Ah.
Kim Sibaek’s eyes widened slightly. Now that he thought about it, everything had been so chaotic back then, and in the excitement of seeing Tae Woon again, he’d completely forgotten. How had he known to come the moment he returned to Earth?
Tae Woon’s response was as expected—curt and cold, just like always.
“Section Chief Gwak probably knows.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Section Chief Gwak, you might want to keep the Agency’s Hunters from flapping their mouths.”
Gwak Yoonsang sighed and covered his face. He’d issued a gag order about the incident, but it seemed someone on the team had talked. Whoever it was, once he found out, they were getting publicly shamed in the training yard. And of course, once these folks were gone, Director Noh fully intended to chew out Gwak Yoonsang for failing to keep his subordinates in check.
Once all the necessary matters had been settled, Director Noh, eager to erase the unpleasant memories she’d just witnessed, bowed her head politely to Kim Sibaek.
“Though the greeting is late, we sincerely welcome your return to Korea.”
Words that might have warmed someone else’s heart instead brushed past Kim Sibaek, leaving a bitter aftertaste.
“What do you plan to do now? Will you be affiliating with the Seven Guild?”
“Ah, before that—there’s something I’d like to ask your permission for, Director.”
***
[Ahjussi, this is the AAA Challenge I did with my friends at school, lolol]
Though the “Stepdad Project” had failed, Bae Ji-han kept in touch persistently. The kid was remarkably sociable—he even stayed friendly with someone older than his own mother.
What he sent was a video of himself and two other boys in school uniforms dancing together. They looked like they were having a blast, and it was undeniably cute. In every world, kids should grow up smiling.
The video was short, but left a strong impression. The music was catchy, and they were surprisingly good dancers.
What was this called again? Singer? Group? Oh—idol.
[You all look like idols^^ Did you come up with the choreography yourselves?]
Sibaek had even attached one of those animated emoji stickers he’d bought. Compared to his usual slow texting, Ji-han’s reply came so fast it was hard to believe they were using the same keypad.
[I said it’s the AAA Challenge, lolol ahjussi, you’re such a boomer XD]
Challenge? Challenge what? It seemed like one of those words that had evolved beyond its dictionary meaning—he couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
“Do you know how ‘challenge’ is used online?”
He looked around, thinking maybe Biendeoé would know—she was practically addicted to the internet—but the black bird was nowhere to be seen. Then it hit him.
“I can’t cling to you forever, so I think I should start practicing being apart from my Apostle,” she had said that morning, her expression solemn, like a fledgling preparing to leave the nest.
He had found it both admirable and endearing and decided to entrust her to the next safest person—Tae Woon, who was downstairs.
Since no Divine Words had come through, he figured she was doing fine and turned back to searching what “challenge” meant.
Tae Woon’s indifferent gaze drifted across the empty air.
“……”
“……”
Silence settled between them—or rather, between a man and an Incarnate Body. Faced with that void-black gaze, utterly lacking even a hint of reverence for a god—more like staring at a rock or a chunk of wood—Biendeoé began to regret coming. Was this really the same person? How could someone change so drastically just because Kim Sibaek wasn’t around?
In front of Kim Sibaek, Tae Woon’s dark eyes had always been childlike and transparent. Now they were hollow. Deep, still, and cold, like a lake that could pull you under forever—or a swamp of nothingness, swallowing everything—or maybe something else entirely.
The vibrant doll once glazed in sugar and honey, so beautiful and sweet to look at, now looked like a broken tool—rusted, faded, and crumbling—without Kim Sibaek.
To him, gods from another world probably meant nothing. Biendeoé now saw that clearly. But this was the only chance she’d have to confirm it. That alien sensation. The bone-deep unease Tae Woon gave off.
She had stayed, pushing past her fear of being separated from Kim Sibaek, just to observe him up close. She believed that, no matter what, Tae Woon—who tried every trick to stay near Kim Sibaek—would never harm her. But the moment she met his emotionless gaze, that belief flickered out like a candle flame.
Is this some kind of split personality? Or… could two souls really share one body?
The transformation was so extreme, it sent her imagination spiraling. Could it be related to that same eerie feeling she’d sensed from Tae Woon?
Sitting at a desk in the office, Biendeoé glanced up at him, carefully gauging his mood.
She had first sensed the oddness after collapsing from nearly depleting her Divine Power and regaining consciousness five days later. As a young god, her power had only begun to grow after taking Kim Sibaek as her Apostle. With far more time spent in weakness, she was especially attuned to danger.
And she had felt something similar once before—right after her power had run dry and she’d arrived on Earth, when she’d been at her weakest. At that time, she’d felt something strange and terrifying from Tae Woon. Vague and faint, but impossible to ignore.
It’s not definite, so telling Sibaek now would only make him worry needlessly…
Currently, her connection to Mak Slechth was allowing her Divine Power to recover, albeit slowly. Which meant that “now” was when she was at her weakest. That’s why, after much deliberation, she’d made a bold choice to observe Tae Woon closely. But whether it had been the right decision—she wasn’t sure. Her eyes rolled around nervously.
To keep up that kind of physique, he’d need a huge caloric and nutrient intake. Does he not snack?
If only he’d eat a snack—maybe then Tae Woon would let his guard down, even just a little.
Tae Woon, motionless like a statue carved from stone, finally rose from his chair. The creak of the chair startled Biendeoé, her tail feathers twitching sharply, but he didn’t spare her a glance. Instead, he walked over to the mini fridge and pulled out an apple.
The crisp sound of peeling echoed through the quiet office. For a while, only the gentle scrape of the knife filled the room—until Tae Woon finally broke the silence.
“You used to be able to talk, didn’t you? Or rather… could you not?”
Somehow, the switch to formal speech only made it more chilling. Biendeoé forced herself to stay calm and replied with just the key points.
“Exhausted. Divine Power.”
“Then no need to speak. Just nod—up and down. You can manage that much, right?”
It was practically a command directed at a god, but Biendeoé, thoroughly intimidated, didn’t even feel insulted.
“What would it take for Sibaek hyung to fully recover his Divine Power? If I built you a temple or something, would that work?”
What use was a temple without believers? Biendeoé shook her head.
“So you really need a worshipper here on Earth.”
Tae Woon asked the question as he cut the peeled apple into smaller slices. The paring knife gleamed white in the light.
Something about that simple act—cutting and slicing fruit—felt deeply unsettling in his hands, turning the mundane into something ominous. The soft feathers of Biendeoé’s plump body began to tremble where she sat.
“Is your existence truly indispensable?”
Tae Woon didn’t even look at her. His gaze rested instead on the reflection of the small black fledgling in the sheen of the blade, his hand calmly moving the knife with steady precision.
When Biendeoé finally managed a stiff nod, he made a quiet “Hmm” and began twirling the paring knife between his fingers. The white blade, still sticky with juice, spun in smooth arcs over his black gloves. As the knife spun faster and faster, Biendeoé instinctively lowered her head—but then Tae Woon slid the plate of apple slices toward her.
“Eat.”
She couldn’t refuse. Hesitantly, she leaned forward and pecked at a piece. It was delicious. The sweet aroma of the apple only reached her after the taste.
Tae Woon gathered the peels and knife, cleaning up without a word, and placed them in a corner of the desk. Then, as if he’d lost all interest, he leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. Only then did Biendeoé relax slightly and continue nibbling her fruit, feeling the tension ebb.
In the reflection of the window where Tae Woon’s eyes rested, the image of the little fledgling could faintly be seen—watching cautiously, pecking at her apple. She looked reassured, thinking his attention had finally turned away.
But what she didn’t know—was that something else was watching her still.
