When Nabin finally slit his wrists, his father wept as if his very soul had been torn apart. Staring at his son’s lifeless body—looking for all the world as though death itself had become the gentlest rest—he cried out to every god he knew, cursing and pleading all at once.
“Ahhh… no… my son… no, Nabin-ah…”
Even if his soul were to be ripped into pieces, he would endure it. If it meant Nabin could live a happy life again, he was willing to be dragged into hell and suffer eternal torment forever.
Just standing by helplessly, watching Nabin’s life unfold, had already been hell. There could be no torment worse than that.
Clawing at his chest, he screamed out, begging someone—anyone—to grant his wish. And somehow, unbelievably, his prayer reached something.
Though he was already dead, he still felt the sense of existing somewhere. His soul was pulled inward, sucked into something.
It was the pendant Nabin always carried. Soaked in his son’s blood, it held the faintest trace of mana. He understood instinctively: if he could stir that mana, Nabin could be brought back.
But moving mana was agonizing. Each attempt tore at the very fibers of his being. And yet, there was only one thought in his mind: it didn’t matter. If by sacrificing himself Nabin could live, then even the obliteration of his soul was better than standing by, powerless, while his son died.
As his consciousness blurred and his soul splintered into fragments, he thought that was the end. But suddenly—awareness returned.
The place resembled where he had been before, yet it was not the same.
He searched immediately—and there was Nabin. Miraculously, his son’s life was beginning anew. This time, the broken beginning had been rewritten, completely reversed.
Nabin was no longer a D-rank Guide. He had awakened at a rank admired by all. If things had stopped there, his father might not have been able to rest, haunted by new fears.
Because with Nabin’s higher rank, greedy people—starting with the Center Director—would swarm like flies, trying to exploit him.
But it seemed the gods had chosen to grant his wish in full. Seeing that Nabin’s bond with someone who could truly protect him was far stronger than before, he finally felt real relief.
Unlike the others, this person would cherish Nabin and embrace him with all their heart. With them, he could entrust his son without hesitation.
Each time he saw the scars still etched on Nabin’s soul, saw his son suffering, his face grew wet with tears. Yet unlike before, there was hope now—that things could get better. And so it wasn’t only pain anymore.
Every time Nabin met good people and began to heal little by little, he prayed with gratitude to every god, embarrassed at how often he had once cursed them.
He lived in hope, counting the days until he could see his son smile again—bright and carefree, like in childhood.
“…Ah.”
Suddenly, a strange sensation passed through him. The end of the time granted to him beyond death was drawing near. Just when he was finally ready to watch Nabin with joy… the farewell had come too soon.
When he had first been pulled into the pendant, he thought it was the end. But waking again in a place where he could watch Nabin’s life unfold, he believed—like Nabin—that he had been given time, too. But it had been an illusion.
Perhaps this was the final mercy. Nabin appeared in the space with him. His pale face still carried sorrow and pain, but unlike when he had closed his eyes before, there was now the faintest spark of life in him.
Even if this was the true farewell, delayed for so long, he couldn’t feel only sorrow. Though regret lingered that he would never see his son’s brightest smile, he was certain that Nabin’s story would end in a happy ending.
He whispered the name he had cried for so many times. Lifting his bowed head, he saw Nabin leap to his feet and run toward him. The image imprinted itself on his eyes as if time itself had slowed.
For the first time, he could hold the grown Nabin in his arms, and it eased his heart. He could feel his son’s spirit hardening, growing stronger.
“I missed you, Dad…”
He gently caressed his son’s tear-streaked face. Unlike his own cold touch, his son’s skin was warm, and that warmth filled him with joy. He was grateful that Nabin had now found people who cherished him—perhaps even more than he himself ever could.
He felt certain, too, that this time Nabin’s partner would love him wholeheartedly. With that belief, he could bear the swelling sorrow in silence.
“I missed you so much too, Nabin.”
He etched the sight of his son’s face, contorted with painful emotion at his words, deep into his heart. He could feel the end of his allotted time closing in fast.
He didn’t know what awaited beyond. Would his soul truly vanish? Would this be the start of reincarnation? Or was he heading to heaven, hell, or somewhere else entirely?
Honestly, he wished he could stay long enough to see more of Nabin’s happiness. That thought left a bitter regret. Though there were people who would protect and love Nabin, he knew there were still many hardships his son would face alone. He couldn’t quite let go.
But he also knew it was selfish. Just the fact that Nabin had been given a new chance, a different life than before—that should be enough.
If his greed twisted his son’s fate, that would be something he could never endure.
“…I’m sorry.”
The farewell he had braced himself for faltered when his son suddenly apologized. The faint smile he had managed to keep broke apart. He knew exactly why Nabin was apologizing.
“I… made a bad choice…”
Gentle, kind Nabin still carried guilt for the day he had taken his own life. His father couldn’t blame him for resenting him instead.
If his son screamed at him—“Why did you leave me alone and die first?”—he would have no excuse. He would only be able to stand in silence, like a criminal.
But his son, still pure-hearted, lowered his head as if he were the guilty one. Each tear that dropped to the ground shattered his father’s heart into pieces.
All his life, he had wanted to protect that precious heart from harm. But seeing that even after so many wounds, his son remained gentle—it crushed him.
Now, even if Nabin acted for his own sake alone, no one had the right to call him selfish. And yet…
“No, Nabin. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was me. It was the world. It was them—the ones who drove you to the edge—they were the ones who were wrong.”
When Nabin lifted his head at those words, the sight was almost unbearable. Those clear eyes, trembling with guilt, held him in place.
He had thought he was ready to accept fate, believing Nabin could now be happy, even if regret lingered. But…
Seeing his son suffering under guilt, he wished he could cling to the body that was vanishing from his toes upward.
“My Nabin is…”
Before the farewell swallowed everything, he wanted to say more. But his throat closed tight. It felt as though his living heart were being ripped from his chest.
He had been wrong. He had told himself he could leave calmly, at peace. But the truth was—he wasn’t ready to leave Nabin at all.
How could he? How could he walk away from this child—this child who, despite so many cruel wounds, blamed no one but himself?
Paradoxically, it was because of that nature that Nabin shone. Even in a world without light, he glowed on his own.
And this time, there were people around him who recognized that light. Yet even so, as his body crumbled away, it was unbearably hard to say the final goodbye.
“Dad…”
Seeing his body fade, Nabin broke down. Like a child clinging to a sandcastle as it’s swept away by the waves, he grabbed at his father’s vanishing body and wept. The sight tore his father’s heart apart.
At last, he clenched his teeth and gave his final farewell.
“Nabin, you’ll never be alone. I’ll always be with you. My son… from now on, live only a happy life.”
“Dad, don’t go… It was my fault…”
He didn’t know what lay ahead, but he had to soothe his son. His heart splintered at the sight of that small face, crying out that he couldn’t let him go.
Even with his wife alive, and Nabin showing a will to live—enough to make him believe his son wouldn’t make the same choice again—fear still lingered. Because this was a child who had once abandoned life.
If there was a fixed amount of happiness in the world, then Nabin deserved the largest share.
His heart, once withered like a dried flower, deserved to bloom again with countless blossoms—enough for a thousand butterflies to alight upon it.
