Cheongju Airport was a madhouse—not just with guild affiliates and officials from the Paranormal Phenomena Response Agency, but also teeming with reporters.
“Guildmaster of Great Arrow! Banmo (𪄀𪃑) was the monster that failed to be raided last year. What are the odds of success this time around?”
“Hunter Kim Kyung-pil! There are allegations that you’ve been speculating on real estate near Pyongyang and Hamhung under false names, betting on redevelopment after reunification. Care to comment?”
“You’re the Chief of Field Analysis, right? Could you say a few words about your analysis on this raid?”
The operation had become a national sensation. With hopes high for reunification and the Seoul Restoration Operation, the president’s approval ratings were soaring, and the media swarmed for every scrap of commentary they could get. Flashes popped. Microphones jabbed forward. It was chaos.
Total bedlam.
The scene pulled up memories from the past whether he liked it or not. When he’d become the youngest gold medalist at the Asian Games… When the Tae Chul-hoon assault case exploded… Reporters had swarmed the orphanage and even his school back then.
“……”
Fifty or sixty years ago, those memories might’ve made his gut twist. Now, he could shake them off with just a grimace. Maybe age really did dull the sting of the past.
[Death and Beauty says that humans, when they grow old, either become numb to or tempered by past memories. She assures you this is simply part of maturing, growing stronger with time—and not something to mourn. She pats your shoulder and says she looks forward to the continued growth of her Apostle.]
So what, you want me to grow even older…?
Seeing the horde of reporters, Tae Woon seemed to have the same thought. He glanced over, checking Sibaek’s expression. Sibaek offered a faint smile and gave him a light jab on the shoulder.
“It’s not like these reporters have a grudge against me. And even if they did… I don’t know, maybe it’s just getting older, but things don’t get under my skin the way they used to.”
He even brought up aging—a topic he usually avoided—just to ease the kid’s worry. But Tae Woon’s response only became more cautious.
“Guys get andropause, right? Their temper gets sharp and stuff… You’re not like that yet, are you? Just in case, should I bring you some supplements or something?”
“……”
“Ow! Owowow!”
Tae Woon yelped dramatically as Sibaek smacked his arm and back hard enough to echo. The air around them stirred. You’d think the guild members would be used to this by now, but a few still flinched instinctively. For the sake of their sanity, Yang Eunho slipped in.
“I’ll take point from here, Mentor.”
“Manager? But didn’t the other guilds lead with their Guildmasters?”
“Our guild does interviews through me, not the Guildmaster.”
“Ah… I see.”
Woonie’s got a good voice too. And with that face, he’d look great on camera. Sibaek glanced at Tae Woon, who lowered his long lashes and let out a shaky breath.
“I get too nervous speaking in front of that many people…”
“The Guildmaster only eats when he’s with Mentor…”
Somewhere nearby, someone muttered what sounded like a quiet incantation—peppered with profanity.
“Ugh, fuck. Freakin’ nutjob.”
The one cursing was Pi Minhyung. He glared daggers at Tae Woon, his face screaming, You crazy bastard, cut the act. How many times have you wiped out crowds just because reporters annoyed you? You’re just scared someone might die if you lose control again, so now you’re pretending you’re too nervous to do interviews.
Tae Woon, catching the look, narrowed his eyes in return.
Kim Sibaek, blissfully unaware of the petty stare war happening outside his line of sight, boarded the plane to Pyongyang. No need to look back—but of course, Tae Woon was seated next to him.
“What happened with that suggestion you said you’d bring to the Raid Division?”
Knowing a monster’s origin wasn’t the same as knowing its weakness, but it helped. It gave you a way to predict its behavior. Back in Mak Slechth, they’d cornered Edokers—whose origin lay in fear—by exploiting his obsession with survival.
But on Earth, where Chaos wasn’t understood, they lacked any real insight into monster origins. In a world where gods didn’t appear before humans, even Kim Sibaek found it hard to explain the truths behind the ancient god of Chaos.
That’s why Tae Woon had offered to deliver the idea: What if we analyzed Gon by focusing on its most dominant instinct?
Tae Woon touched his chest with his long fingers and gave a slight, trembling sigh.
“I brought it up, but they looked at me like, ‘You think we let you play Guildmaster so you could spout this kind of bullshit?’ It was terrifying…”
“Why would they scare such a good kid? That’s just mean.”
“Right…?”
Yang Eunho, who had just finished boarding and sat next to them, gave Sibaek the exact look Tae Woon had described: You think we let you play Guildmaster so you could spout this kind of bullshit? Slightly embarrassed in front of the younger ones, Sibaek cleared his throat awkwardly. With Yang Eunho here, they might as well stay quiet until they reached Pyongyang.
***
From early morning, the whole country was buzzing about one thing. Would the Hunters entering North Korea today succeed in clearing the Gae-seong Field? If they did, would that finally mean the restoration of Seoul? Was this the beginning of reunification?
People everywhere scrambled to sound like experts, parroting things they’d heard here and there, weaving bits and pieces into overblown theories. The excitement was contagious. Even Sister Benedicta, though her concerns were slightly different from the general public’s, couldn’t hide her anxiety.
“Woonie and the other kids are part of this Gae-seong Field operation, right? They’ll be okay, won’t they?”
While Sister Benedicta prayed earnestly for their safe return, Sister Hyoju Agnes’s mind wandered far from the chapel. For days, she’d wrestled with a decision, and in the end, she quietly slipped out of the excited, bustling sanctuary—heart racing, hands clammy.
She lingered near the café where the meeting was set, pacing back and forth, unable to steady her nerves. Only when the appointed time was just around the corner did she finally step inside, pressing a hand against her pounding chest as a wave of nausea threatened to rise.
The reason for her anxiety? An email she’d received not long ago.
It had come from an unfamiliar address. The sender didn’t waste any time—they claimed to know her half-brother and insisted on meeting.
The fact that Sister Hyoju Agnes was searching for her half-sibling wasn’t exactly a secret. Her father never spoke of it openly, but every so often, he’d seek out people who’d known her mother, subtly questioning them for any trace of the past. Still, her mother had gone to great lengths to erase her history. Twenty years of searching had turned up nothing.
Sometimes, she’d daydream—imagining a miraculous reunion, a long-lost sibling appearing out of nowhere. But not once had she imagined it would begin with a random email in her inbox.
What if it’s a scam? Some kind of phishing scheme?
The thought had crossed her mind more than once. Just to be safe, she’d looked up the domain of the email. To her surprise, it checked out—it was an official address from the Oregon National Laboratory in the United States, just as the sender had claimed. When she looked up his name, she discovered he was a well-known researcher in monsterology.
Despite all her fact-checking, the unease wouldn’t go away. These days, even voice phishing scams had gotten sophisticated—some even impersonated prosecutors.
Unable to tell Sister Benedicta or her family, she’d agonized over the decision alone before finally agreeing to meet him. She held tight to one small hope—Why would a scammer target a nun? I don’t even make enough money to steal.
Even so, she wasn’t reckless. She’d picked a crowded franchise café near the orphanage. Plenty of people around. Safe.
Wringing her sweat-slick hands, she bit down on her lip, anxiety surging in her chest. When the clock hit the exact meeting time—ten minutes past the hour—the door she’d been watching intently finally opened. A tall man entered. Maybe 180 centimeters, or six feet, given he was American. Striking features, middle-aged.
He glanced around the café once, then headed straight toward her—the only woman in a nun’s habit—and took the seat across from her without hesitation. He didn’t even check if she was the right person before offering his name.
“Cloud Carter.”
“…I’m Hyoju Agnes.”
She swallowed hard. His Korean was fluent—surprisingly so for someone who’d been adopted to America decades ago. The accent was there, faint and awkward, but the words were confident.
“……”
“……”
Neither of them spoke after that. Even after their coffee arrived, Cloud just studied her, eyes searching her face like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
Hyoju Agnes couldn’t take it anymore. She broke the silence first.
“How… did you find me?”
