“You’re here?”
Tae Woon’s expression as he greeted him in the director’s office was calm. There was a quiet consideration in his plain words and demeanor, a deliberate gentleness that seemed meant to keep him from feeling any pressure over his choice. It made a wry smile tug at Kim Sibaek’s lips. Was he so visibly shaken that this kid had started to worry?
“Let me see your hand.”
“My hand?”
Tae Woon tilted his head, puzzled, but obediently placed his left hand in Kim Sibaek’s outstretched palm.
“Take off your glove.”
Still wearing a confused look, Tae Woon pulled off the leather glove from his right hand and held it out. The back of his hand—so much larger than in those distant memories—was rough, covered in calluses and scars.
The first person to ever scar this child’s hand… was him.
“Hyung. Don’t be sick… I hate it when you’re hurting… If you leave me too, like Mom and Dad, I’ll just die too…”
As he gently caressed the adult hand of the boy who once clung to him, drenched head to toe in blood, Kim Sibaek couldn’t help but recall that tiny, trembling grip. If he were to turn away now—if he chose to walk away again—how much more pain would be carved into the back of this hand? Onto that face?
The shock of loss had simply clouded his vision, but maybe… maybe the answer had always been there from the beginning.
“Hyung. Is something wrong?”
Tae Woon tilted his head with concern. Even in a world that had forgotten him, the soft voice that continued to call out to him, to follow him, quietly wrapped around Kim Sibaek.
Tae Woon was here. The younger brother he’d named himself. His kid.
Even if everyone else had forgotten, his kid—Tae Woon—still remembered.
“If you’re not busy, do you want to take a walk with me outside?”
“…Sure.”
Had he read his heart? Tae Woon bowed his head gently, eyes shadowed by a flicker of unease.
It was a beautiful day.
Since returning, it was the first time he’d stepped outside the building. Unlike the frantic chaos of his first day back, Kim Sibaek took a moment to slowly take in his surroundings. The streets surrounding the 7777 Guild headquarters bustled with life.
“Saw it on YouTube during my commute…”
“The cost-efficiency of crafted magi-tech items is…”
The mundane chatter of people passed by him. Even in a world plagued by monsters and death, humanity refused to despair—they continued living. Of all the people strolling the streets, how many could possibly know of the foretold apocalypse?
[Death and Beauty lets out a sigh and closes its eyes.]
Tae Woon was nowhere to be seen. When he turned around, he spotted him standing in a dim corner, tucked away from the eyes of the crowd. One of the group heading toward the guild building had noticed him—it was Lee Hangyeol.
Looking somewhat more rested than the day before, Lee Hangyeol’s complexion had improved. He approached Tae Woon, who stood still and unresponsive, and greeted him with a gentle familiarity—like an old longing rediscovered.
The pain and grief that had made it impossible to face each other—the pain of being forgotten—had begun to cast clear shadows across their hearts. The mangled, broken corpse of Lee Hangyeol, once vivid in memory, now seemed to blur. It could be erased. That future could be undone.
All it would take was his own resolve.
“Woonie.”
Kim Sibaek walked toward him, as if color were blooming into the gray shadow surrounding Tae Woon. Lee Hangyeol, glancing back and forth between the two, gave a small nod and stepped away.
In the shade where Tae Woon had been standing, only the two of them remained. His little brother, now much taller, looked down at him in silence.
“I was planning to go back… but I can’t. Even if the other kids or Sister Benedicta don’t remember me, I remember them.”
He had tried to forget. Thought he had forgotten. But in truth, not a single one of those precious people had left his memory. How could he turn his back on them? Knowing the end of the world was coming—how could he abandon them?
If he could do that… then he wouldn’t be Kim Sibaek.
[Death and Beauty falls into a melancholy silence.]
“I’ll do what I can. As much as I can.”
He gave a soft laugh, tapping the back of Tae Woon’s hand.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up on going back. Every quest ends eventually, right? It’s not like I can return to Mak Slechth right this second. So I’m going to take it slow—complete the quests, and figure something out along the way.”
“…”
Tae Woon stared at him silently, unreadable. It was then that a system window abruptly popped up in his peripheral vision.
[The System has been eagerly waiting for your answer! (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑) Isn’t it time we revealed a little gift just for our dear Returnee?]
[If you complete the final quest and successfully save Earth from destruction, the path back to Mak Slechth will open before you٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶]
[So our beloved Returnee—fighting!]
The system’s message vanished before he had a chance to respond. Kim Sibaek stared at the empty air in disbelief, lips parting slightly before clamping shut again.
“Ha…”
He let out a dry breath. Unbelievable. They’d forced him into a corner, and now they tossed him this “mercy” like a bone, pretending it was a generous offer. And yet, Kim Sibaek already knew—he’d cling to that offer like his life depended on it.
Because for now… it was the only way home.
The system had no doubt what choice he would make. If it had, it would have dangled the sweet reward of “returning to Mak Slechth” much earlier—back when he was still floundering in indecision.
Now, whether by his own will or by force, Kim Sibaek’s goal was fully set: to stop Earth’s destruction by fulfilling the quests assigned by the system.
The idea of being toyed with in the palm of its hand was infuriating, but there was no way around it. He had to save this world, save Tae Woon and the others—and then return to Mak Slechth.
“Hyung? What’s wrong all of a sudden?”
Tae Woon’s eyes were laced with worry, unsettled by the sudden shift in his expression. Kim Sibaek gave a bitter smile and pushed down the disgust rising inside him.
He’d have to explain things to Tae Woon eventually—but not right now. Right now, he wanted to focus only on their time together.
Firming his resolve, Kim Sibaek gently cupped Tae Woon’s scarred cheek.
“Woonie. If I said it didn’t shock me to be forgotten by everyone… I’d be lying. But you remember me.”
“…”
“Even if the whole world forgot me, you didn’t. And I’ve found you again, safe and grown. That’s more than enough.”
Tae Woon listened in silence, then took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against the crook of Kim Sibaek’s neck. Kim Sibaek, bearing the weight that settled heavily against him, gently patted his back—a back broader, stronger than his own.
“You really haven’t changed, Hyung. That’s why…”
The quiet words trailed off and melted on Tae Woon’s lips, and for a long time afterward, Kim Sibaek never learned what he had tried to say.
In that moment, he also didn’t know about the voice that seeped into Tae Woon’s mind.
[How admirable.]
Layered voices echoed in reverent awe.
[Our child… You knew what decision the young god’s Apostle would make.]
Ah… yes. With his eyes closed, Tae Woon leaned against Kim Sibaek. There was no need to cling, no need to beg. Even in chaos, he knew—he would choose the “right” path. That brilliance of his, untarnished, unyielding, immune to decay.
‘That’s why, Hyung…’
Beneath the veil of a face Kim Sibaek would never see, a flicker of self-destructive madness stirred.
‘If it’s you… you’ll definitely…’
***
There was no time to bask in the joy of subjugating Edokers—Mak Slechth had been thrust into new turmoil.
The god of Death and Beauty, Lord Biendeoé, once scarcely known even by name, had gained widespread reverence thanks to the Apostle who raised Their fame throughout Mak Slechth. And now, that very Apostle and her god had both vanished.
Gloiuken An’t Suapsech Elwid, the Paladin of Death and Beauty, paced anxiously in front of the prayer sanctuary. She could still faintly sense the divine presence—that much assured her that her god was safe. But what of the Apostle, the one she revered as both master and guide?
‘If I’m being objective… the odds of Lord Biendeoé surviving alone in an incarnate form are slim. Surely Her Eminence is guarding Them.’
Even as she reached that hopeful conclusion, unease gnawed at her. She remained stationed at the prayer sanctuary, calming the turmoil in her heart. Only after a long time did the heavy doors creak open, and the Pope of Death and Beauty emerged, supported by attending priests.
“Your Holiness!”
Gloiuken immediately rushed forward and knelt on one knee in reverence. The Pope, soul long tethered to the divine realm, looked utterly drained, placing a frail, wrinkled hand on her shoulder.
“The details remain unclear, but it appears that Lord Biendeoé and the Apostle have been transferred to the Apostle’s original world.”
“You mean… Earth?”
“Indeed. The young god has been caught up in it as well, throwing the divine realm into great confusion. Mak Slechth will open a dimensional gate to retrieve them both. And… with a shard of Edokers vanishing alongside them…”
Even speaking a short sentence seemed to exhaust him. After a few labored breaths, he finished in a slow but unwavering voice.
“Paladin. I bestow a divine command upon you and your brother.”
Gloiuken pressed a reverent kiss to the back of his hand.
“It is what my brother and I desire most. We will bring back His Eminence, and our god.”
