The map pinned to the board detailed each survivor’s location meticulously. Employees from the Paranormal Phenomena Response Agency bustled around, operating software synced with the Strike Team’s scanners. On the laptop screen, the Giantvine’s analysis diagram showed nothing but black—indicating the complete absence of any core.
“Where the hell is that bastard’s core hiding?”
Gwak Yoonsang, who had been staring intently at the monitor over an employee’s shoulder, flinched at Justyna’s sudden comment.
“Could you at least make some noise when you’re walking around?!”
“If you didn’t even sense someone approaching from behind, they’d downgrade you to A-rank immediately.”
“That’d reduce my salary, so please don’t.”
Temporarily stepping away from the table where they’d been frantically cross-referencing previous Giantvine raid data, Gwak Yoonsang offered Justyna a coffee that the café owner had just placed down.
“Want some?”
“I’m already over-caffeinated. My arm feels all tingly.”
Justyna dramatically swung her right shoulder around, proudly demonstrating its perfect recovery. It was genuinely astonishing to see both of her arms fully intact. Still, Gwak Yoonsang knew exactly what she intended to discuss, so he swiftly shifted the conversation elsewhere.
“You hunted a massive Giantvine back in Seoul, didn’t you? Were you able to find its core quickly?”
“It wasn’t as huge as this bastard, but at the time we knew next to nothing about Giantvines—or monsters in general. Because we ignored it initially, it grew pretty big. We didn’t know how to attack or even where to start looking for the core, so we ended up ripping through every part of it—roots, flowers, everything. Eventually, we found the core near the very bottom of a stem, close to the roots.”
“Hmm. The Giantvine at the Management Center doesn’t have its core there.”
Justyna habitually fiddled with her eyepatch as she recalled the incident from twenty years ago.
“As long as you control the Giantvine’s roots, it stays fairly quiet on the outside, right? Back then, we couldn’t imagine what the fruit might turn into, so we initially decided to leave it be. Besides, so many people had already gotten hurt just trying to restrain its roots.”
Documentaries had been filmed, and survivors had published memoirs, making the plight of Seoul’s refugees widely known. Yet this was the first time Gwak Yoonsang had heard this particular story, so he momentarily set aside his growing anxiety to focus fully on Justyna’s words.
“But you didn’t actually leave it unchecked, did you?”
“If we had, Giantvine spores would’ve spread beyond the Han River, overtaking the entire peninsula. But then Tae Woon pointed something out.”
“The thing that looks like fruit—it’s gotten bigger since our first attack.”
A single observation by a young boy whose voice still cracked had immediately shifted their strategy. Everyone began worrying about what might happen if the fruit fully matured, and despite their injuries, they collectively agreed to gather their strength and put an end to the monster.
“In the chaos of battle, who would have thought to notice that the fruit had grown? Smart kid… Should’ve recruited him into our guild…”
Justyna, momentarily lost in nostalgic regret, suddenly snapped back with a sharp breath. Gwak Yoonsang’s attempt to fully steer the conversation away had clearly failed.
“But I didn’t come here just to reminisce. About my little brother Sibaek…”
“Your little brother Sibaek?”
“As of today, we’ve officially become sworn siblings.”
“You didn’t actually ask Hunter Kim Sibaek’s opinion, did you?”
“Our eyes met, and that was enough.”
Justyna shamelessly announced this, tapping her completely healed right shoulder again.
“Is this really just his healing ability?”
“No comment from the manager.”
“What is he, a celebrity? Anyway, give me a hint about what my little brother Sibaek likes or maybe his weak spots. I’ll try luring him over to our guild.”
Gwak Yoonsang hesitated briefly. Something Kim Sibaek genuinely liked or a clear weakness… He immediately thought of something. After carefully ensuring this revelation wouldn’t cause Kim Sibaek any actual harm or vulnerability, he finally spoke.
“Guildmaster Tae Woon.”
“…Even I can clearly see that, and I’ve only got one eye.”
“No matter what bait you use, I doubt he’d ever leave Seven.”
“Chief Gwak, the only thing left for those who give up on challenges is stagnation.”
“You don’t need to recklessly challenge things just to end up getting hurt.”
Justyna chuckled and shrugged lightly.
“Well, even without recruiting intentions, I’m personally very curious. Back when I was rolling around as a mercenary, I saw a lot of people with eyes like Tae Woon’s.”
“Eyes like what?”
“Eyes that say they don’t care if they die.”
Even at fourteen, when Justyna had first met Tae Woon, his dark eyes were entirely unlike those of a child—they reflected nothing at all. Those empty eyes ignored the value of his own life just as much as they ignored the lives of others. Yet ironically, he never hesitated to risk himself when it came to saving people. This contradiction still puzzled Justyna whenever she thought back to it.
In her experience, people with eyes like Tae Woon’s threw themselves recklessly into battle, almost as if they intended suicide—and inevitably died. For years, she’d worried Tae Woon might meet the same fate.
“But whenever Tae Woon looks at my younger brother Sibaek, there’s a spark in his eyes. Clearly, Sibaek is what keeps him alive.”
“…”
“Obviously, I’m curious.”
Overwhelmed by this unexpectedly heavy revelation, Gwak Yoonsang merely mumbled something vague in reply.
“Um, Guildmaster Tae would probably firmly reject your interest, Guildmaster Justyna.”
“Oh, definitely. He’s always been a rude little bastard.”
Just as Justyna finished her blunt comment, an employee’s urgent voice interrupted their conversation.
“We found Giantvine’s core, but…”
“But?”
They’d finally located the core, yet the employee’s face had drained of color. Growing impatient, Justyna quickly stepped past Gwak Yoonsang, grabbing the employee’s arm.
“The Eid Portal we found with it is about to mutate!”
Typically, an Eid Portal would manifest as a dim, human-sized opening, dotted with countless shimmering lights like stars scattered across the night sky. Some romantics interpreted this imagery as representing individual humans as miniature universes.
“Doesn’t that sound like something a literature major would say?”
Tae Woon had laughed dismissively when he’d heard it, but Kim Sibaek had secretly thought it was rather poetic. Yet the first Eid Portal Kim Sibaek had ever witnessed was utterly devoid of any such romance. Even to someone like him, who knew little about portals, its appearance was alarmingly abnormal.
Intense, explosive bursts of light poured chaotically from the portal’s opening, twisting violently and scattering blinding beams in every direction. It felt as if someone had grabbed a tiny universe and was shaking it fiercely. Yang Eunho gritted his teeth anxiously.
“We have less than thirty minutes until the portal mutates. And…the monster’s core seems to be located directly behind it.”
The scanner, which had failed repeatedly to detect the core, finally managed to pick up a faint signal. But the portal’s entrance had expanded to fill the entire cavity, blocking access to the core completely unless they could eliminate the portal first.
“Can’t we just dig around the stem to reach it?”
“If we accidentally touch the Eid Portal, it’ll mutate immediately!”
“Wouldn’t triggering the mutation be better than letting Giantvine spread all over Daejeon?”
Hunters voiced their anxious suggestions, growing increasingly frantic. Just as the commotion reached a fever pitch, a single, chilling voice silenced the chaos.
“I’ll handle it. Everyone shut up.”
“Hyung!”
“Oppa!”
Even Seo Gaeun, who always formally addressed Tae Woon during official matters, grabbed onto him desperately, her eyes wide with alarm.
“The portal’s in terrible condition. That means it’s probably even worse inside! It’s far too dangerous—even for you!”
“Do we have any better ideas?”
Seo Gaeun clenched her teeth and exhaled sharply, pushing her hair back in frustration.
“Then at least let Eunho and me come with you.”
“No. You’ll just slow me down. It’s faster alone.”
“…”
No one could argue against his arrogant declaration. Seo Gaeun reluctantly stepped back, fists clenched tight in bitter frustration at the reality of their difference in strength. With her stepping aside, no one else dared block Tae Woon’s path—except for one person.
“Let’s go together, Woon-ah.”
In contrast to the urgent atmosphere, that calm voice cut clearly through the tension. Tae Woon’s expression softened instantly into a gentle smile.
“This one’s different from last time. It’s about to mutate.”
“It’s okay. You think I can’t protect both of us?”
[Death and Beauty jumps in surprise, sarcastically asking if you abandoned your god.]
“You’re basically my buy-one-get-one-free deal, anyway.”
Lord Biendeoé seemed unsure whether to feel pleased or insulted by the remark, but obediently folded her wings and settled comfortably atop Kim Sibaek’s head.
Kim Sibaek silently observed the situation. His primary reason for going was simple: he couldn’t allow Tae Woon to enter danger alone. The second reason was his current quest.
[Please claim your reward↖↖]
The persistent arrow floating in his vision pointed relentlessly toward the Eid Portal’s entrance. Clearly, entering the portal was necessary to obtain the Fragment of Longing.
But even without the quest, it wouldn’t matter.
Had he avoided danger—the only path that allowed him to protect others—he would never have become an Apostle, nor would he be the Kim Sibaek he was today.
“Then I’ll trust you fully, Hyung.”
At the gentle promise of protection, Tae Woon’s cheeks tinted faintly with warmth. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, and Kim Sibaek followed closely behind, diving together into the flickering darkness.
***
A burst of blinding lights momentarily overwhelmed his senses. Kim Sibaek closed and reopened his eyes, finding himself suddenly transported beyond the portal. As he adjusted to the thick fog, similar to the Eid Portal at the department store, his eyes widened in shock.
“W-what the hell… Why is this world like this?”
“A sight that could drive anyone mad, isn’t it?”
Answering him was the quiet, eerie voice of a very young boy.
