Kim Sibaek swiftly turned his head toward the voice. But instead of sturdy, broad shoulders and a strong neck, he saw nothing but empty air.
With growing disbelief, he lowered his gaze. There stood a petite, white-skinned boy who barely reached Kim Sibaek’s chest. His face was delicate, fluffy with babyish softness, and he greeted Kim Sibaek with a bright smile.
“Hyung.”
The clear, childish voice that hadn’t yet deepened sent Kim Sibaek’s heart racing. Standing before him, vividly alive, was the child he’d thought he’d never see again. His heart pounded so fiercely he felt it might leap straight out of his chest.
“Woon-ah! Is it really you, Woonie?!”
“Who else could I be but your Woonie, Sibaek-hyung?”
“Aaaah! You’re so cuuute!”
Completely forgetting his dire circumstances, Kim Sibaek excitedly grabbed the boy’s waist and lifted him high into the air. The boy burst into delighted giggles, claiming dizziness amid his laughter.
From the charmingly plump cheeks filled with baby fat, to the neatly defined features, the flawlessly smooth skin untouched by blemishes, and the perfect weight that filled his palms—this was unmistakably his younger brother.
Overwhelmed by irresistible cuteness, Kim Sibaek struggled to breathe, his chest tightening painfully.
[Death and Beauty doubts her eyes, shocked that she finds him even cuter than anticipated.]
“How can this be?”
“It seems the Eid Portal’s host strongly remembers my past self—strong enough to erase my present form and bring back this version instead.”
“Ah, right. The portals form based on the host’s perception.”
“Judging by my clothes, this memory seems to be from after the Cataclysm.”
Indeed, Kim Sibaek noted a difference from the Tae Woon he remembered at age fourteen: the boy wore all black—black T-shirt, jeans, and gloves.
Carefully setting him down, afraid he’d make him dizzy, Kim Sibaek couldn’t resist gently pinching the boy’s soft, squishy cheeks. Although adult Tae Woon’s skin was smooth too, nothing could compare to the wonderfully elastic softness of youthful baby fat. Ahh…
[Death and Beauty sternly reprimands you, warning you not to indulge in strange fantasies or make weird noises.]
Shaken from his trance by the reprimand, Kim Sibaek forced himself to survey the portal properly. Still, his fingers remained gently pressed against the plump cheeks.
He seemed to be standing on a street somewhere between the Management Center and the Manastone Vault, but the world around him was spinning so violently it left him feeling nauseous. Ventilators dripped from the sky, trees dangled bizarrely from utility poles, and buildings twisted grotesquely, falling apart as though melting. Clouds solidified and tumbled downwards, defying all logic and reality.
The scenery felt like a surrealist painting brought horribly to life. Kim Sibaek’s senses and consciousness twisted with the distorted landscape. One careless moment could plunge him into madness, forcing him to view the world from his knees or walk with his head against the ground.
Tae Woon mumbled something indistinctly, with his cheeks still firmly grasped, sounding like soft baby talk to Kim Sibaek’s ears.
“The host is close to mutating, so its consciousness is too chaotic to properly form the world. Anyone entering could lose their sense of self.”
“Really? Then I’d better stay focused.”
“You’ll be fine, hyung. Your mind is strong enough.”
Although Kim Sibaek desperately wanted to cuddle and linger endlessly with the young Tae Woon, he knew time was limited. Reluctantly withdrawing his hand from the boy’s cheeks, he instead grasped Tae Woon’s small, soft hand. The sensation of those tiny fingers nestled perfectly into his palm made his heart ache sweetly.
“Hold hyung’s hand tightly, okay? It’s dangerous, so don’t let go.”
“Yep!” Tae Woon answered joyfully.
Heart pounding violently, Kim Sibaek dashed forward but soon realized a problem. Fourteen-year-old Tae Woon was smaller than his peers, adorably petite, irresistibly cute, and his short, charming legs limited his stride significantly.
[Death and Beauty protests that, despite his smaller appearance due to perception, he remains an immensely powerful Awakener.]
Ignoring the divine commentary, Kim Sibaek anxiously asked, “Want hyung to carry you on his back?”
“Yes!”
With an immediate brightening of his expression, Tae Woon eagerly stretched his arms out to be picked up. Kim Sibaek screamed internally at the boy’s unbearable cuteness as he swiftly lifted him onto his back. He barely restrained himself from placing Tae Woon on his shoulders, desperately clinging to the last shred of his rationality.
Tae Woon wrapped his thin arms tightly around Kim Sibaek’s neck, snuggling affectionately and rubbing his soft cheeks against his back.
“There’s a lot I want to say since we’re this close, but if I say it in this form, you might end up getting arrested instead of me. So, I’ll hold back.”
“……”
Kim Sibaek abruptly recalled, with difficulty, that this angelically adorable boy had just a few hours ago openly tried to seduce him. He had set that issue aside due to urgency, but the troubling thoughts awaited him once they got out.
But right now, my Woonie is the cutest in the world! Though Woonie is always the cutest!
Temporarily escaping reality, Kim Sibaek leaped forward with renewed determination.
The portal’s interior was completely chaotic, the floor barely stable beneath his feet. It suddenly sank, causing him to plummet through building elevators he’d just passed. He slipped through walls and emerged on rooftop railings, the landscape shifting nauseatingly with every blink.
Even standing still would have been disorienting enough. The distorted, incomplete world numbed his consciousness, pulling at him like deep underwater currents. Tae Woon’s earlier warning echoed in his mind: many would surely have lost themselves entirely within this chaotic madness.
Fortunately, the monsters weren’t faring much better. With instincts duller than humans’, they’d already fallen victim to the chaos engulfing this twisted reality.
“They’ve degraded to the point where calling them monsters feels generous.”
Pausing briefly atop a bus that was evaporating into thin air, Kim Sibaek scanned his surroundings. The creatures made strange, wheezing noises—neither screams nor groans—as they grotesquely merged with their environment. Even Kim Sibaek, who’d witnessed countless horrors, grimaced at the sight of chimeric forms melting into telephone poles.
“Though, personally, I wouldn’t mind merging bodies with you, hyung.”
“Woon-ah, if you keep saying naughty things with that cute face, I’m seriously going to spank you.”
“Spanking play sounds perfect. My adult body has quite the firm backside—it would feel great under your hand.”
“……”
Kim Sibaek’s English was rusty, but even without fully remembering the exact definition of “spanking,” he grasped the implication clearly enough. Momentarily distracted, he found the earlier bold declaration—“I want to have sex with you, hyung”—poking insistently in his mind. With a resigned sigh, he forced himself back into reality and dashed forward again. Lingering on such thoughts could truly cause him to fuse into the madness of this collapsing world.
“The Eid Portal’s keeper should be at the deepest point, right?”
“Normally, yes. But I’m unsure exactly where that deepest point is here. Usually, the host’s strong memories manifest clearly, like the department store we saw before. But if this relates to trauma, it could take a while to locate.”
Tae Woon’s uncertainty was reasonable. Kim Sibaek recognized the area around the Management Center, yet everywhere he looked presented the same chaotic cityscape, offering no obvious landmark.
Just as anxiety began gnawing at him, worrying they’d already passed the portal’s core, the scenery around them shifted dramatically. The bustling but warped urban landscape instantly gave way to devastation—ruins drenched in blood, clearly marked by the brutal aftermath of fierce combat.
More significantly, Kim Sibaek realized with faint recognition that he’d seen this place before. A location he’d visited long ago as a fencer.
“Dongdaemun Stadium…?”
“Looks like the portal’s deepest point is Dongdaemun Stadium.”
Tae Woon briefly fell silent, clearly recalling something painful, before speaking again, softly but clearly.
“Dongdaemun Stadium, twenty-one years ago… I think I know who the host might be, and what form the Portal Keeper will take. A massacre occurred here. For the memory to remain this vivid after twenty-one years, the host must be someone who survived that tragedy.”
“A massacre? Here?”
“Many evacuees took shelter in Dongdaemun Stadium during the Cataclysm, but the open roof left them vulnerable to flying monsters.”
“Then the Portal Keeper could be a flying monster?”
Kim Sibaek had neither sufficient divine power nor his trusted gear, having left his equipment behind at Mak Slechth, severely limiting his options against an airborne enemy. He began weighing his options—climbing higher or throwing nearby objects—when Tae Woon suddenly tightened his grip around Kim Sibaek’s neck, clinging to him desperately.
It was the instinctive embrace of a frightened child clinging to a parent after waking from a nightmare. Kim Sibaek’s heart sank heavily, sensing the depth of fear hidden behind that innocent gesture. Just what horrors had Tae Woon witnessed at Dongdaemun Stadium?
Tae Woon’s voice trembled softly, finally revealing the lingering dread from the past.
“…The massacre at Dongdaemun Stadium shelter was caused by humans.”
