“Are you really going to keep saying weird stuff to your hyung?”
“Nooo, I mean, this! You freaked out because I came in your mouth, right? So if I do it in your mouth too, it evens out. Like, fair’s fair, right? That should cancel it out or something.”
“……?”
If he’d been in his right mind, Kim Sibaek would’ve smacked Tae Woon upside the head for talking nonsense. But rattled and dazed, his brain actually stalled to consider it. Huh. If you give and take the same thing, it’s like it never happened… kind of makes sense?
The next thing he knew, he was picturing himself going down on Tae Woon. The image came unbidden, vivid—and slammed straight into the brick wall of reality.
“…….”
Nope. No way. Trying to fit that thing in his mouth would definitely tear the corners of his lips. But then again, his healing was fast. A little tearing, he could probably manage that… right?
While Kim Sibaek’s thoughts spiraled into total madness, oblivious to the fact that Tae Woon was smirking behind him, it was the sudden ringtone from the phone on the table that finally hit the brakes on his runaway brain. Tae Woon scowled as he glanced at the name flashing across the screen.
“Lee Hangyeol…”
Hearing that name, Kim Sibaek’s eyes widened as he remembered his forgotten schedule.
“Ah—crap! After lunch, I was supposed to compare Divine Power and magic with Hangyeol and the Research Director!”
A glance at the wall clock confirmed that lunch was long over. He scrambled to grab his phone, but Tae Woon’s arm shot out faster.
Without waiting for the other person to even say a word, Tae Woon answered the call like it was his own and barked out,
“Sibaek-hyung and I are in the middle of an important conversation. Push the test to later.”
Then, before Kim Sibaek could even react, Tae Woon ended the call. Not only had he picked up someone else’s phone without permission, but he’d also unilaterally canceled a scheduled guild task. Kim Sibaek stared, dumbfounded. When he opened his mouth to protest, Tae Woon just tilted his head and blinked innocently.
“Huh?”
“……”
Yeah. What was the point in getting mad at the kid? This was all his own fault—for not drawing a line, for letting it get this far. Just a lowlife who couldn’t say no when he should’ve. Drowning in a wave of self-loathing, Kim Sibaek sighed internally.
[Death and Beauty asks if your god may return now.]
No. Please. Don’t come. Not now…
[Death and Beauty graciously understands that something shameful is happening, something your god should not see.]
What kind of disgraceful mess is this in front of a minor? If Sister Hyoju Agnes ever found out, she’d be ashamed to call me her oppa…
While Tae Woon played around, hugging him from behind and planting teasing kisses in his hair, he seemed to read right through Sibaek’s thoughts.
“Come to think of it, hyung… are you really not going to tell Sister Hyoju Agnes that you’re her oppa? You could just take a DNA test and prove it. She’s one of the only people who still remembers you.”
“This coming from the kid who once said I shouldn’t even go on blind dates because you hated the idea of someone else becoming more important to me? But a sister’s okay now? She’s going to mean more to me than any lover.”
“Come on, hyung. I know how much you value your family. But I’ve still got to win against a sister you just found out about, right?”
That strangely confident, almost boyishly stubborn reply made Kim Sibaek let out a laugh, the tension finally melting from his face.
“I just… don’t know how to explain it.”
He brushed it off vaguely, but his mind was a whirlwind. Should he return to Mak Slechth as planned? Or stay here on Earth? And now, to top it off, the sibling issue had been thrown into the mix. He felt smothered by the weight of it all.
“I don’t know what the future holds, but if I end up going back and have to lie, saying I moved abroad or something, then she’d be stuck waiting again. And waiting, not knowing whether someone is alive or dead… that’s brutal. Sometimes, it’s better to have a body to bury. At least then you can grieve.”
He’d seen it again and again through years of war—the way people waited. And he knew better than anyone how cruel that waiting could be. Tae Woon knew it too. He didn’t say anything, just let out a soft, drawn-out “Aaah…” and fell silent.
Kim Sibaek still didn’t feel ready to face the world, but at least his mind had settled a little. He’d recovered enough from the shock to think straight. As Tae Woon gently stroked his back, Sibaek was busy figuring out how he’d apologize to Hangyeol when a soft voice broke into his thoughts.
“Hey, hyung.”
“Yeah?”
“Just… hypothetically speaking, okay?”
Even with that lead-in, Tae Woon hesitated. Kim Sibaek smiled faintly and patted his thigh.
“What are you trying to say with that dramatic pause?”
“Mm… just promise you won’t get mad. Even if it’s weird.”
“I won’t. Go ahead.”
“So… your brother.”
“Sister Hyoju Agnes?”
“No. Siwoon-hyung.”
“……”
The hand resting on Tae Woon’s thigh froze mid-pat. Though Tae Woon must’ve felt the way Sibaek’s body stiffened in his arms, he continued on, slow but steady.
“If Siwoon-hyung were still alive, someone like me—who messed up your whole future—wouldn’t even come close to how important he was to you, right?”
That question—
“Hyung, if you had to choose—me or that kid… who would it be?”
The question echoed like a fragment from a dream. A dream from somewhere, some time ago.
***
For Tae Woon, there were three defining moments in his life.
The first: the night Tae Chul-hoon murdered their parents.
The second: that summer afternoon, when he met Kim Sibaek through the basement window.
The third: the day of the Cataclysm.
His memories warped and unraveled at each of these turning points. Everything before age five was wiped clean, and the years that followed were a tangled mess of confusion and distortion. But after he met Kim Sibaek, his world started to shift—he began to think, feel, and remember like a normal human being. His life finally started to make sense, and he could chart its course through the thread of memory.
Then came the Cataclysm. And once again, his mind began to fracture.
“I confessed to you? I only tried to keep it hidden because you kept pretending not to notice. I didn’t want to pressure you.”
“…Wait, so that’s not what happened?”
“Hmm. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but… probably not.”
That was why his answer to Sibaek had been so vague.
From the exact moment the Cataclysm struck, Tae Woon’s perception of time had broken down again. He truly couldn’t recall what had been said between them—his memories were too fogged and jumbled.
Even the ordinary memories he’d once clung to—those up until age fourteen—had eroded with time.
And yet, some things remained seared into his heart.
Hyung.
Sibaek-hyung.
He remembered every moment of the boy who used to crouch by the basement window, offering a black plastic bag filled with red bean buns and strawberry milk. He remembered watching that boy grow into a man in his late twenties.
He remembered everything.
And that day was no exception.
It had been a while since Kim Sibaek last called. He was probably tied up with some big case.
The kids had gathered in front of the TV, but the sisters at the orphanage gently tried to dissuade them.
“There’s going to be scary news on all day. Why don’t you all play something else today?”
“Is it a scary drama? I wanna see!”
“Nooo! I hate scary stuff!”
Pi Minhyung raised his hand excitedly, while Lee Hangyeol shrieked and clung to Seo Gaeun.
The sisters chuckled and glossed over it, but Tae Woon had a feeling.
Something big had happened—something the sisters didn’t want the kids to see.
Just like when Tae Chul-hoon had been arrested.
Could it be a case Hyung’s working on?
He was curious. But by the time he pushed Pi Minhyung’s leg off his body in bed and finally fell asleep, there was still no word from Kim Sibaek.
The next day was Sunday.
He hung out with Seo Gaeun at the local Chinese restaurant, watching the ever-blaring TV. As expected, the news was plastered with reports of a major crime—a massive human trafficking and illegal organ trade bust.
Several officers were interviewed on-screen, but none of them were Kim Sibaek.
He borrowed the restaurant’s landline and called Sibaek’s apartment. No answer.
Not that day. Not for the rest of the weekend.
By Monday, Tae Woon was ready to ditch school and go straight to the apartment. But he knew Sibaek would scold him for it, so he held back. As soon as classes ended, he rushed to a payphone and called the precinct.
“You can’t reach him at home? Uh, well… he’s… b-busy—ah! He had to go out of town for work.”
Apparently, “Detective Kim’s cute little brother” was a bit of a celebrity at the Violent Crimes Division. The officers usually answered his calls with a smile and a joke.
But something was off this time.
Their tone was wrong.
It was a lie.
Tae Woon hung up without another word. And without a moment’s hesitation, he headed straight to Kim Sibaek’s apartment.
He knew the way as well as the path back to the orphanage.
“Sibaek-hyung. I’m here.”
He knocked firmly on the door, but no one answered.
He considered waiting out front—but if Sibaek came home and found him there, he’d only worry again.
So Tae Woon turned around, intending to hide in the alley and wait.
That’s when he heard it.
A strange creaking sound… coming from inside the apartment.
