Tae Woon, who usually answered questions without hesitation—right or wrong—let out a drawn-out “Hmm,” eyes flicking around in thought.
“Sorry if that was a weird question.”
“No, that’s not it. I’m just thinking. What if my brother has some kind of prince syndrome and is totally deluded, thinking everyone around him likes him? In that case… wouldn’t it be the proper, filial thing to do to just lie and play along?”
“……”
Yeah, definitely shouldn’t have asked. Kim Sibaek reached out and pinched the mouth that dared say something so ridiculous about “filial piety.”
***
It was ironic, really—Edokers was so unnoticeable that tracking him down was actually harder because of it. Add to that a human accomplice, and it was no wonder someone with Edokers’s survival instincts could vanish so cleanly.
With the 7777 Guild’s investigation turning up nothing, Kim Sibaek changed his line of thinking.
Both the Management Center incident and the amusement park attack happened while I was there.
It was almost certain that the amusement park attack had targeted him, which made it unlikely the earlier incident was just coincidence. Which meant… the next one would probably happen near him, too.
To avoid dragging in civilians, it’d be best to stay inside the guild building for a while. But if his routine got too predictable, where would Edokers strike next? Directly attacking the 7777 Guild headquarters would be incredibly risky—his face was already known there, and with his powers weakened, it wasn’t a likely move.
More plausible was that he’d try to leak Kim Sibaek’s schedule or set a trap somewhere more favorable. And if you narrowed it down to places with heavy demonic energy—ideal for Edokers’s tricks—it wasn’t a long list.
Probably the field south of Gae-seong… or the Han River.
It wasn’t just about monster hunts anymore—he had to account for Edokers’s threat too.
The S-rank monster the 7777 Guild planned to raid in Gae-seong, in collaboration with the Tobazishu Hussars Guild, was an ichthyosaur. He’d revisit the issue once the assault team finalized their strategy. Until then, during short breaks, Kim Sibaek kept watching raid footage featuring Gon.
Watching Gon fight was like seeing a condensed history of humanity’s evolution in battle—how they wielded weapons, powers, tactics, and magic against monsters. Early raids, back when the Cataclysm first hit, had been reckless and unrefined. But humanity adapted fast.
According to Tae Woon, this upcoming raid would follow the same general structure as the videos he’d seen. The only major difference was the addition of newly invented magitech gear to bolster their defenses.
Imagining the scene, Kim Sibaek quietly calculated what his own contribution might be.
Unless he was some Apostle of the god of Life and Seeds—one of those who could resurrect the dead and had a famously bad relationship with the gods of the Underworld—his healing powers wouldn’t shift the tide of battle much.
Still, I might be able to pull off one large-scale blessing, if it’s not overkill…
But Earthlings didn’t really believe in gods. Who knew how much effect it’d actually have?
If only Gloiuken were here… No. No point thinking about someone who isn’t.
He tried to banish the thought of Gloiuken—whose absence only made her feel more overpowered in hindsight—but then, from the cradle beside him, came the sudden sound of lips smacking. Biendeoé again. Probably chatting with Lee Hangyeol.
It was his first time back in three weeks. After pulling two all-nighters, Lee Hangyeol was half-asleep, mind running slow. Watching the elevator numbers blink past, he decided to squeeze in a quick prayer.
Biendeoé, I’m gonna head home and crash first. Then I’m planning dinner at this new clam grill spot in Eunhaeng-dong. Heard it’s amazing.
[Death and Beauty, your god, declares that tonight she shall feast on Greek yogurt drenched in honey, topped with fruit jam and chocolate.]
Knew you had good taste. Wanna go food-hunting again next time?
[Death and Beauty agrees, but says if it’s just the two of you, it’s better to stick to places near the office.]
When he asked why it had to be near the office, Biendeoé always dodged the question. Later, though, Kim Sibaek filled him in.
“She’s been cut off from the divine realm, stuck in a strange world without sanctity or connection to the heavens.”
It was phrased nicely, but the real reason? She was scared. Honestly, it kind of made sense—she really did seem like a child-god. Still, no matter how bizarre everything was, he couldn’t help but question how easily he’d come to accept concepts like other worlds and divine beings.
Maybe it’s because Tae Woon-hyung was right there agreeing with me. And something about my mentor just… makes me want to trust him.
That odd feeling he sometimes got from Kim Sibaek never really left—it lingered like a faint residue in his chest.
Talking with a god didn’t suddenly make him a devout believer, but it was fun in its own way. Like chatting with a very responsive AI chatbot. And when he was alone and a bit lonely, he could send up a prayer and get an instant reply. Maybe that’s why people got into religion.
Just then, the elevator doors opened to the underground parking lot. After three weeks away, Lee Hangyeol had completely forgotten where he’d parked. He looked around, trying to jog his memory. Once he had a rough idea, he started walking and pressed the car key—only for a massive black shape to leap out in front of him.
“Gotcha, you little punk.”
Lee Hangyeol nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Whoa—fuck! You scared the hell outta me!”
“Did you just say fuck to your noona?”
“…I said whoa, shoot. Shoot.”
He tried to walk it back quickly, realizing he’d put his foot in his mouth—but it was too late. Seo Gaeun scooped him up like a kid, one arm wrapped around his side, and lifted him effortlessly. At fifteen centimeters shorter and noticeably lighter, the scrawny mage dangled like a paper doll in her grip.
“Hmm. Your eyes look fine.”
“…What the hell are you doing?”
“I came to kidnap you.”
“Wait, what?!”
He didn’t even get the chance to argue. Seo Gaeun threw him over her shoulder and strode off toward her Jeep. Being the only one in the group without any physical abilities, Hangyeol was used to being treated like luggage. He grumbled to himself as usual.
“Would’ve been nice if you waited until everyone was here before dropping this on me.”
That was all Seo Gaeun said before plopping him into the passenger seat and buckling his seatbelt for him. He had no idea where they were headed, but honestly? He was exhausted. The smooth ride lulled him straight to sleep, mouth slack as he dozed off.
When he woke up, he realized he’d been “kidnapped” to Yang Eunho’s place—two buildings over from the dorms. It was also the newlywed home of Yang Yura, who’d grown up with them at Somang Orphanage. Even Pi Minhyung had shown up after work, bringing his two kids.
Everyone’s here… so why didn’t they call Tae Woon-hyung?
The answer came soon enough. The moment they finished dinner, three people—including the kidnapper herself—surrounded him on the couch, backs pressed firmly to the cushions.
With three towering adults blocking his view, it felt like the air itself had gotten heavier. Hangyeol, still peeling fruit, instinctively raised the paring knife like a shield. Not that it’d do much—any of them could probably bend it in half with one hand.
“W-What’s going on?”
“Hey, Lee Hangyeol.”
Pi Minhyung, the oldest of the group, cut straight to the point.
“Is Tae threatening you or something?”
“…What?”
The dumbfounded response slipped out before he could stop it—but the others were dead serious.
“You’re not in trouble. But if he’s done something to you, you can be honest with us, okay?”
“The hell are you even talking about?!”
“The hell?”
“…I mean, come on. That came outta nowhere!”
Yang Eunho let out a sigh and pushed Pi Minhyung aside.
“You can’t just corner the kid like that. You’re a dad now—you haven’t changed a bit. Anyway, Hangyeol, you’ve been acting a little off lately.”
“Since when?”
Eunho didn’t say it outright, but he didn’t need to. The weird muttering to himself, talking to that ugly baby crow like it was a person—it all boiled down to two words:
“The mentor’s crow.”
“…Oh.”
Suddenly it made perfect sense why Tae Woon hadn’t been invited.
Seo Gaeun tightened her grip on his shoulder, voice calm but firm.
“You can tell us the truth.”
The truth… The word echoed in Hangyeol’s mind. Maybe that wasn’t what Seo Gaeun really wanted to hear—but hearing it made someone else come to mind.
Kim Sibaek.
Or more specifically, the strange feeling that had been clinging to him lately, ever since Kim Sibaek entered his life.
