Gu Yeongmin was a Demonic Terrorist.
An extremist who believed the monstrous ecosystem that rose to dominance after the Cataclysm was the rightful order of nature—and that the human civilization built up until then was fundamentally flawed and deserved complete destruction.
Just as humans hunted animals for food, monsters hunted humans. In his eyes, it only made sense. Wasn’t it natural that monsters should become the next dominant species?
Driven by that belief, Gu Yeongmin orchestrated several terrorist attacks—some of which even succeeded. But it wasn’t enough. Humanity had learned to coexist, however tenuously, with monsters. Society didn’t collapse as easily as he’d hoped, and the influence of terrorists like him kept shrinking.
This won’t do. The world needed a spectacle—something so devastating it couldn’t be ignored. Determined, Gu Yeongmin began planning an attack in the very heart of Daejeon. That’s when he met the boy.
A young boy dressed in black.
“If you want the world to notice, you’ll need a new method. Something no one on Earth has ever seen.”
That’s how the boy delivered his revelation.
“He told me. Taught me how to germinate a Monster Seed. You saw the news, right? The Management Center. The amusement park.”
Edokers let out a low growl. The boy’s words confirmed it—the spawn of Chaos had touched down on Korean soil.
“…That boy’s appearance isn’t real. Just a mask—something wearing human skin, pretending.”
“Doesn’t matter what it is. I’ve gained the power to reshape the world.”
“Before that, you’ll need to deal with the Apostles. Right now, your magi is too weak for them to notice, but the stronger you get, the more likely they’ll come for you. And the Apostle will be the first to strike.”
“If by Apostle you mean Kim Sibaek from the Seven Guild… then yeah, that’s going to be tricky. The Guildmaster sticks to him like glue.”
“He’s that strong?”
“There’s not a single Hunter out there who’d confidently say they could take down the Guildmaster of Seven.”
“So he’s the strongest.”
Edokers thought back to himself before his core was shattered, before he was reduced to fragments. He sighed—a long, deep exhale. The feeling of helplessness gnawed at him.
“Kim Sibaek’s divine power has weakened, sure. But if the human beside him is that strong, then we’re screwed. Want to escape with me?”
“Maybe. Depends on how you look at it.”
Gu Yeongmin chewed on a piece of pig’s trotter, lost in thought.
“Infiltration and inside jobs are kind of my thing.”
***
The story about him being corrupted by magi after swallowing a manastone? A lie.
The real invasion happened when he was five. He didn’t recognize it as the energy of Chaos until he turned fourteen—right after Kim Sibaek vanished.
“Child, it has been nine years in human time. Is this when I say, ‘Long time no see’?”
That moment… it brought back the childhood nightmares he thought Kim Sibaek had erased for good.
Tae Woon stared blankly at the empty space where Kim Sibaek had stood. He staggered forward.
His foot caught on the rooftop ledge. His body tilted. And he fell—headfirst, spiraling downward.
Then, in a blink, he was back on the rooftop.
Alone.
No Kim Sibaek. No one.
Just the sound of screams—human and monstrous—echoing in the air.
Tae Woon couldn’t tell if this was real or a dream. His feet were solid against the rooftop. The summer heat burned against his skin. Screams rang in his ears.
But none of it felt real.
It was like his senses had been unhooked from the world.
Give him back.
Even his own scream sounded like it came from someone else’s throat.
His brother was gone. Just—gone.
Why was he still alive in a world without his brother?
“Very well. That brother of yours… he was the one we dined on nine years ago. I’ll grant your wish. I make this vow.”
What vow?
“To humans, seven is a lucky number, isn’t it? After 7,777 days, you’ll be dead. So I swear—on the 7,777th day, I’ll return him to you. This is the covenant made when light and darkness split at the Origin.”
I swear it.
Tae Woon agreed, without understanding a thing.
“…Sibaek hyung?”
Kim Sibaek was gone—probably left early for work. The emptiness stung, but it was a relief. Tae Woon let out a breath and released the magi he’d been suppressing.
At first, there were no visible signs. But once he crossed the threshold, the corruption spread fast. Tae Woon looked down at his hand, now visibly streaked with magi.
He’d overexerted himself suppressing it, preparing for the chance he might lose consciousness. Then he’d taken a reagent on top of it all. That’s how Kim Sibaek found out.
He regretted not eliminating Edokers the moment he discovered his existence. If Kim Sibaek hadn’t bought the lie about the manastone, things would’ve turned out much worse.
But at the same time—he was happy.
Overwhelmingly happy.
Whenever Kim Sibaek’s divine power touched him, the chaos inside him stilled. For a brief moment, his senses would return to normal. He could see Kim Sibaek clearly. Hear his voice. Smell his scent.
His vision was usually a wreck—unable to make out even basic shapes or colors. He had to suppress the magi and focus intensely just to barely see faint outlines. Letters were readable only because they were black on white, and no matter how hard he tried, photos always stayed blurry.
But with Kim Sibaek’s divine power?
Everything changed.
His vision cleared. Brightened.
And in that crystal clarity, he could see him.
That joy alone made everything else bearable.
The hypersensitivity in his skin—an afterthought.
Even with his dulled, distorted senses—what had once been just a means to etch Kim Sibaek into his memory, to burn the moment into both their bodies and minds—sex had become the end itself.
He wanted to touch Kim Sibaek’s skin. To kiss him. To be filled with nothing but him.
He lied again.
Told Kim Sibaek it was because of the manastone.
What hurt more was that he’d believed it without question. That quiet trust made the guilt even worse, like tar coating his insides. The deception only sank deeper.
And still—being able to be that close to him, to touch him like that…
It felt so unbearably good.
***
Kim Sibaek was the type of person whose words and heart always aligned—so straightforward and textbook-principled that even if someone could read his mind, he’d have nothing to be ashamed of. It was rare for him to ever ask Biendeoé not to read his surface thoughts.
But when he did?
It was only when the content could severely harm a minor’s mental health.
No… it can’t be…
Biendeoé’s pupils trembled slightly. The request came last night, right after Kim Sibaek purified Tae Woon’s magi and stepped out of the bedroom.
And this morning, he’d bolted out of the building before Tae Woon even woke up, skipping breakfast altogether. Like he was running away.
She wanted to know so badly what had happened—but she couldn’t bring herself to pry. So she writhed in frustration on top of Kim Sibaek’s head.
Lee Hangyeol noticed and asked with a worried expression, “Is the crow sick?”
“Just age catching up to me.”
“Ohh, so it looks like a baby bird but it’s secretly super old?”
“No. It’s just at that age where you’re extra prone to puberty-related delusions.”
“…Yikes.”
[Death and Beauty formally denies any connection to the Black Flame Dragon that dwells beneath the left wing of your god.]
Lee Hangyeol responded with an exaggerated pose, as if that clarified everything, and Biendeoé denied it again using Divine Words.
At the moment, Kim Sibaek was in the guild’s research lab, waiting for the head of the research division. The request? To analyze the “power of faith” with magic.
Obviously, divine power couldn’t actually be dissected through magic, but it wasn’t going to hurt anything either, so he agreed.
Lee Hangyeol had just tagged along because he wanted to hang out.
“But seriously, what is that crow? If it can draw magic circles, it’s not just some regular bird. Wait—can it use magic too? Is it, like, a crow wizard?”
“Not quite. No mana, so it’s not a wizard. Think of it as a magic scholar.”
Lee Hangyeol gave a low whistle. “So it’s smart? Maybe even smarter than me?”
“Hm. Hard to compare using human metrics.”
Kim Sibaek hesitated briefly, then decided to tell the truth. Maybe he could lie to the world—but not to the kids from the orphanage. He didn’t want to bury them under more lies.
“She’s the incarnate body of the god I serve.”
“…….”
Lee Hangyeol blinked slowly, then asked in a cautious voice, “Wait… You mean Death and Beauty?”
Even if he didn’t believe it, there was nothing Kim Sibaek could do about that. He smiled faintly, just about to respond—
When the lab door swung open without so much as a knock, and a shadow bigger than the doorframe loomed across the room.
“There you are, Sibaek hyung. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
