“They’re saying the host of the Eid Portal is likely a child who suffered domestic abuse.”
The words Kim Sibaek had left behind resurfaced in Tae Woon’s mind, bringing a bitter smile to his lips. He knew it was said out of concern, meant to be thoughtful—but the aftertaste lingered unpleasantly. After all, his own childhood hadn’t exactly been sunshine and roses either.
Still, it was clear Kim Sibaek was worried not just about the situation, but about the host—the child. That’s why, the moment Sibaek entered the portal, Tae Woon had begun scouring the area. It was technically the job of the Eid Portal Management Division, but with an S-rank Hunter stepping in instead of a regular civil servant, things moved a lot faster.
It didn’t take long to locate one of the potential host’s relatives: the father. The fact that he hadn’t been pulled into the portal suggested the child had rejected him, even from within their subconscious.
The man had been hiding, and even after being discovered, he tried to run again—only to be caught by Tae Woon. He shouted to the end, insisting it wasn’t his fault.
“You little bastard, that damn kid just—urk!”
Tae Woon didn’t even bother replying. Without a word, he drove his foot down onto the man’s throat, silencing him right then and there. The man gagged and thrashed. But there was no escaping this—once the portal was cleared, the proof of child abuse would be undeniable, and this man would be arrested on the spot.
And with the child separated from the father, there wasn’t much left to worry about here… in fact, it was the perfect opportunity. Tae Woon made a quick decision and pulled out his phone. The call connected almost immediately.
– “Woonie? What’s the matter?”
It was Sister Benedicta’s voice, calm as always.
Four days had passed since the Eid Portal first formed. The civil servants taking turns guarding the site were visibly trembling.
[“The Guildmaster’s really staying until it’s cleared, right?ㅠ”]
[“Yeah…ㅠㅠ”]
Tae Woon stood just as he always did, hands stuffed in his pockets, dressed plainly. Like a statue carved from granite. Whatever grim rumors followed his name, no one could deny how striking he looked. But any admiration faded quickly.
His already fierce expression, set in a blank, stony gaze, made it feel like he might wipe out the entire area at the drop of a hat—whether from impatience or sheer boredom. No one dared breathe too loudly.
We need a leash. Seriously, someone get him a leash…
“Leash” had become slang throughout the Paranormal Phenomena Response Agency—thanks to Gwak Yoonsang’s loose lips—referring to the one person capable of controlling this “mad dog”: Kim Sibaek.
Who knew how much time had passed?
Even after nightfall, the scene hadn’t changed. Tae Woon hadn’t moved a muscle—until suddenly, he lifted his head. Right then, the flickering light of the Eid Portal froze.
It was cleared.
The Portal Keeper appeared—like something scribbled in crayon by a disturbed child. A distorted black world sealed off from reality. And within it, a grotesque man with blood-red eyes. A house and a father—the twisted remnants of a child’s inner world.
As the Core was destroyed, the nightmare collapsed. Kim Sibaek could only hope it would help the child finally wake up.
“Let’s get out before this place falls apart.”
Under Moon Sunghui’s command, the strike team began escorting the elderly out first. Kim Sibaek and Moon Sunghui were the last to follow.
“Hyung!”
A deep, rough voice—oddly delicate despite its bass—rang out the moment they stepped outside. Before Kim Sibaek could even react, a massive shadow came barreling toward him. To be precise, 0.1 tons of it slammed into him.
[Death and Beauty shrieks and flutters off your head.]
The impact was so intense, Biendeoé was almost launched into the air, and Kim Sibaek stumbled back three steps. Anyone else would’ve been crushed under that kind of weight.
If it were Woonie, he probably would’ve liked getting knocked down…
Maybe that was the point. Maybe he wanted to knock him over. The thought had barely crossed his mind when Tae Woon started nuzzling his cheek, arms still wrapped tightly around him—his full weight pressing in.
“Hyuuung… Do you even know it’s been four days since I last saw you?”
“What? It’s been four days out here?”
With that, every bit of suspicion evaporated. Since returning to Earth, Kim Sibaek had never been apart from Tae Woon for this long. He felt a wave of sympathy well up. As if reading that emotion, Tae Woon’s brows drooped even lower.
“I missed you so much… I couldn’t even eat properly…”
This was the same guy who could out-eat three grown men without breaking a sweat. For him to lose his appetite? He must’ve been really miserable…
“Oh no, look at you. Your face is half its usual size.”
[Death and Beauty calmly points out that his face looks exactly the same as it did this morning.]
“What?! Can’t you see how sunken his cheeks are?”
[Death and Beauty laments, wondering what on earth to even call this if not a full-blown delusion.]
To Kim Sibaek, Tae Woon looked visibly worn down. The younger man pouted, biting his lip shyly. Seeing him so exhausted he could barely speak made Kim Sibaek’s heart ache even more. He gave his butt a few light pats, saying they should wrap this up and go eat something delicious. Completely oblivious to the stunned silence that had blanketed the area.
The civil servants, having just escaped one horror, now faced another. Trembling, they forced themselves back to work. Soon enough, they found the child.
“We found the child!”
During an Eid Portal’s activation, the host becomes completely cut off from the outside world. The child hadn’t had a drop of water in four days—their condition was critical. As the medical team swarmed around the unconscious child, Kim Sibaek stepped forward.
“Let me check on the child for a moment.”
If Tae Woon hadn’t been standing right next to him, people probably would’ve been stunned by how composed and put-together Kim Sibaek looked. His manner was calm, professional—even dignified. As murmurs of surprise rippled through the crowd, the ball of light swirling in Tae Woon’s hand gently sank into the child’s body.
A soft whimper escaped the child’s lips. Their eyes fluttered open.
Relieved gasps followed almost immediately. People sighed in unison, some even clapping quietly in awe.
“They’re not fully healed, but stable enough to be moved. Please take good care of the child.”
“This is more than enough—they’ll make it to the hospital safely. Thank you so much!”
With the worst behind them, everyone sprang into action. Those responsible for follow-up began gathering testimonies and explaining what had happened inside the portal. As for Kim Sibaek—still holding up a slumping Tae Woon—they all avoided meeting his gaze like their lives depended on it.
Soon, the unconscious child was loaded onto a stretcher and carried into an ambulance. Local residents, still pale from the experience, boarded other ambulances bound for the hospital—just in case.
“Better an orphanage than growing up with parents like that.”
It was something he’d heard before. Harsh, maybe. But sometimes true. Not every guardian deserves the title. Some only bring harm.
Kim Sibaek glanced up slightly, silently praying the child’s wounds—both seen and unseen—would heal. Tae Woon tilted his head, catching his gaze with a puzzled look.
“Something on your mind?”
“…No. Nothing.”
He swallowed the thought that had been nagging at him ever since that familiar image inside the Eid Portal had stirred it up.
Woonie.
If you ever manifested an Eid Portal… would it be the night your parents were murdered? Would it be Tae Chul-hoon? Or… would it be that moment—the moment you and I locked eyes through that tiny basement window?
***
August 4, 199X.
It was a brutally hot summer. So stifling that even the joy of winning the President’s Cup National Fencing Championship had evaporated into the heat.
“I’m giving you a few days off, but that doesn’t mean you get to slack. Don’t overeat, don’t just lie around like a slug, and don’t go collapsing from heatstroke ‘cause you pushed yourself too hard outside, either. Got it?”
Kim Sibaek stood at the bus stop, replaying his coach’s stream of contradictory advice. Was he supposed to rest or not? Even standing still, sweat poured down his back. The cheap plastic fan he’d gotten from the Fencing Association did nothing to ease the sweltering air.
When’s the bus coming?
He was heading to the orphanage for a well-earned break. But it wasn’t his usual time or route, so he must’ve misread the schedule—no bus in sight.
Bored, he picked up a discarded newspaper left on the bench. The business section was packed with terms he couldn’t make heads or tails of. As he flipped through it, a serialized wuxia novel caught his eye.
Is this the one Coach sneaks peeks at between matches?
He turned the page again and found a sports tabloid. It had comics and serialized fiction too. Thinking it’d help pass the time, he started skimming through—but only a few minutes later, he stood up and left.
A middle-aged man had shown up and started chain-smoking beside him.
Forget this. I’ll just walk. Could use the exercise anyway…
He was an athlete, after all. A little heat wasn’t going to take him down.
To get to the orphanage the quick way, he’d have to cut through the neighborhood backstreets. Still fanning himself, he moved at a brisk pace—until even he had to admit defeat. He ducked into a local corner store and bought a popsicle. Just one wouldn’t hurt.
It’s been ages since I actually walked this way through the neighborhood.
Hoping to avoid the communal restroom by the main road, he turned down a side alley. Just as he bent to pick up the wrapper that had slipped from his hand, a breeze swept it away. With a sigh, he stepped forward to catch it.
And that’s when he saw them.
A pair of deep, black eyes staring at him through a tiny basement window.
