“With my current shooting skills, to what extent can I handle them?”
“You’re talking about creatures, Jae-jin?”
“I’ve been consistently practicing at the underground shooting range, following the curriculum you taught me, Eui-woo. I haven’t been lazy for a single day. I’ve put in the effort.”
Seo Eui-woo had no idea why Kwon Jae-jin was suddenly grabbing him and asking this question.
They had already decided to flee to the Sixth Residential District. They had planned to leave behind Awakeners, mutants, Espers, and Guides—everything. He was supposed to blend into normal society, live as an ordinary person, date like any other civilian. So why now…? What was he trying to fight against?
Why…?
“Let’s see… If you’re facing them alone, Jae-jin, you could take on one beta creature.”
Seo Eui-woo answered plainly. Kwon Jae-jin was so shocked that he froze.
“One…? That’s the answer?”
Wasn’t that practically no progress at all? It was the same as last time.
Jae-jin blinked in disbelief. Seo Eui-woo, as if it was the most obvious thing, nodded firmly. His sharp, honed gaze carried an intimidating weight. This was his area of expertise.
“You’ve only trained to hit a single moving target so far. Do you think you can hit two moving targets at once? And I’m not talking about stationary ones. Two moving targets.”
“Well, that’s a bit…”
“Exactly. Once there are two or more, your chances drop. You’ll have to rely on luck, and it becomes dangerous.”
“……”
“Don’t be discouraged. You’re incredibly talented. Most trainees take nearly half a year just to hit a single moving target. But you did it in two weeks.”
“But the trainees are just kids. I’m an adult.”
“No, you’re genuinely gifted. You have an exceptional eye. It’s what they call dynamic vision.”
Seo Eui-woo stretched out both hands, cupping Jae-jin’s cheeks. He pulled him close, forcing their gazes to lock. His dark, unwavering eyes were thoroughly evaluated without a hint of exaggeration.
Kwon Jae-jin’s sharp, discerning eyes were as steadfast as they were exceptional.
“Listen. Do you know what it means to hit a moving target? It means that now, you can shoot and kill a charging creature with a single shot.”
“…….”
“If it’s just one, it’s a guaranteed win.”
Ah… is that so?
The same creature he couldn’t kill last time, even after firing dozens of rounds from a rifle—now, he could take it down with a single, accurate shot? If that was the case, then he had definitely improved. Kwon Jae-jin slowly nodded. For some reason, his palms began to sweat. His chest, too, started to pound with excitement.
“Then, what do I need to do to hit two moving targets?”
He hadn’t even intended to ask, but the question slipped out on its own. He was supposed to be running away. His future was set—he would escape with Seo Eui-woo. And yet, here he was, asking how to fight.
More than any five-part documentary on bamboo, this—this was what he truly wanted to know.
“Well, it’s a mix of technique and steady practice.”
Seo Eui-woo chuckled, as if amused by the obviousness of the question.
“Do you want to learn?”
“Yes.”
Kwon Jae-jin answered naturally, without a shred of hesitation. The words rushed out, almost as if they had been waiting.
“Yes. I want to know.”
“Alright, then. I’ll teach you.”
Without crossing the threshold of the study, the two of them headed straight down to the underground shooting range. Jae-jin gripped his well-maintained rifle, loading the magazine with practiced ease. Deep in his gut, a question began to stir—why am I doing this? What am I trying to achieve? But he forced it down, suppressing it before it could rise to the surface.
Seo Eui-woo gave him a brief rundown of the technique. Stripping away unnecessary details, he taught only the basics and core principles.
“From now on, you can’t aim at the target before you shoot. You have good eyes, but this time, it’s not about seeing—it’s about sensing.”
“Sensing?”
“Yeah. You need to predict where to shoot. Read the creature’s movements before firing—or, better yet, manipulate its movement to create the perfect shot.”
Seo Eui-woo put ear protectors on Jae-jin before adjusting the shooting range system. The blue holographic targets on the wall increased from one to two.
Instinctively, Jae-jin tracked the moving targets with his eyes. Seo Eui-woo mouthed, Not like that.
“If you watch them while you shoot, you’ll always be too late. Stop looking—just fire.”
Jae-jin nodded in understanding, bracing the rifle against his shoulder before firing a burst. He missed both targets. Strengthening his stance to brace against the recoil, he fired again. Still, not a single shot landed.
Two moving targets were a whole new level of difficulty. This was the threshold—only those who could hit them were deemed ready for real combat. Jae-jin hadn’t even known such a standard existed, yet here he was, persistently firing at the erratically bouncing holographic targets.
He was busy, yes, but there was still time until spring. A bit of shooting practice wouldn’t hurt.
A flicker of exhilaration stirred in his sharp, determined eyes.
***
As always, it was space.
Kwon Jae-jin turned around, standing beneath Saturn and its moons. Even without 24-year-old Seo Eui-woo pointing it out, he could now find his target on his own.
From the endless, pitch-black expanse of space, monsters were advancing.
Jae-jin gazed at the horde of creatures, filled with nothing but murderous intent. Their movements stood out to him—how fast they were, the features of their bodies, which parts needed to be shot for a clean kill.
Seo Eui-woo, appearing beside him as if from nowhere, extended his arm again. A long object materialized in his translucent palm.
It slowly lengthened, hardened, and took shape—until it became a black rifle. A familiar model. The one he had loaded, fired, disassembled, oiled, and reassembled countless times. So much so that now it even appeared in his dreams.
Jae-jin swallowed a dry laugh. First, there was his beloved kitchen knife—now, it seemed he had a beloved rifle too.
“Here. You mustn’t run away.”
The older Seo Eui-woo smiled as he handed over the gun. Jae-jin accepted it without hesitation, raising the barrel toward the approaching creatures. With a hollow sigh, he muttered,
“…Don’t you think this is too much? What the hell am I supposed to do?”
Following the techniques Seo Eui-woo had taught him, he fired by instinct rather than sight. His voice was rough, scraping like sandpaper—murky, bitter, and self-deprecating.
“You took all my memories, erased everything, and then vanished before I could even resent you. We can never meet again. So why… why the hell do I have to see you in my dreams?”
The first Seo Eui-woo had been selfish.
He had stolen Jae-jin’s entire childhood, yet in the end, the only place he remained was in Jae-jin’s memories.
Nowhere in this world was there a trace of the first Seo Eui-woo.
Only Jae-jin knew him. Only Jae-jin remembered him.
He had erased everything and left himself behind in Jae-jin alone—what could be more selfish than that?
“You mustn’t run away,” he said.
Jae-jin scowled.
Was choosing to live a new life with the second Seo Eui-woo really running away?
Turning his back on the world and leaving together—was that running?
…No. Actually, yes. It was running away.
But the first Seo Eui-woo had no right to criticize that decision, to oppose it. Not even if this was just a dream, a product of Jae-jin’s unconscious mind.
The long rifle spewed fire in rapid succession.
His accuracy improved as he continued to miss, adjust, and fire again. Black monster blood soaked the black floor of space. Yet, despite all the shots fired, the creatures’ ranks did not thin. Stepping over the fallen bodies of their own kind, they kept pushing forward.
“Jae-jin… do you hate me that much?”
A cold arm extended from behind him.
The 24-year-old Seo Eui-woo carefully adjusted Jae-jin’s shooting posture, lowering his center of gravity by widening his stance and raising his elbow to the right angle. His accuracy increased dramatically.
“So much that you can never forgive me?”
The taller, fully matured Seo Eui-woo—now a man with an effortlessly alluring presence—skillfully signaled him to fire again.
“Even if you do, just hold back for now.”
“…What?”
“Even if you want to resent me, don’t look at me. Look over there instead.”
That cruel voice burrowed painfully into his chest. Jae-jin kept firing without stopping.
He had already shot down two moving targets in succession, yet he didn’t even realize it. There were simply too many creatures to count. He shot down three, then four, relentlessly pulling the trigger, swapping in a fresh magazine without hesitation.
“You mustn’t run away. You can’t run away.”
Seo Eui-woo wrapped his arms around Jae-jin from behind.
His thick, solid arms felt crushingly heavy—so much so that it hurt.
With a hole in his head, his childhood stolen away, Kwon Jae-jin had been burning with resentment. But at that moment, he finally realized—his emotions toward the first Seo Eui-woo had collapsed into something devastatingly different.
The fragile yet beautiful attachment, the fondness built upon coercion and force, tears and pleading, love and hatred—it all burned bitterly within his chest.
