“Did Tae Woon Oppa force you to join the Crow Cult or something?”
Seo Gaeun’s eyes were fixed on the keychain dangling from Lee Hangyeol’s phone—official Tae Woon merch produced by the 7777 Guild. It was something Hangyeol had clearly bought for himself, not as a joke, but as a genuine fan.
Normally, if a younger sibling were obsessed with their older sibling like this, it’d be flat-out creepy. But not for them. In a hellish world where kids barely in their teens saw corpses every day—sometimes creating them themselves—they needed something to hold on to just to stay human. For Lee Hangyeol, that anchor was Tae Woon.
“It doesn’t matter what it is. Just engrave whatever value you think matters most in your heart. As long as you hold on to that and never betray it, you’ll have the strength to keep living tomorrow.”
After Tae Woon gave them that advice, each of the kids made a choice—some after serious thought, some guided purely by instinct.
For Pi Minhyung, it was the two kids who had become his companions and family.
For Seo Gaeun, it was her unshakable resolve to never turn away from someone in need.
For Yang Eunho, it was the safety of his wife Yang Yura and the 7777 Guild, following the Jaewoo University shelter incident.
And for Lee Hangyeol, it was a near-religious devotion to Tae Woon himself.
“What about you, Oppa? What’s your value?”
“Mine is 7777.”
It was only after Tae Woon established the guild with that name that they began to understand what he meant. Not the full meaning—maybe no one but him knew that—but it didn’t matter. Whatever it was, that “one thing” he held onto was probably what kept him from falling apart or ending his life.
“So seriously, Hangyeol, we would’ve understood if you’d started your own Church of Tae Woon.”
“I mean… I kind of wanted to…”
“Yeah, but a cult is different.”
“Exactly. Hangyeol-ah, I’ll admit our mentor’s kinda… intense, but a cult? That’s going too far. Are you okay? Something bothering you lately?”
“You saw Tae flatten that cult leader the other day, didn’t you?”
“Ugh.”
The three still looked dead serious, but feeling embarrassed for getting worked up, Hangyeol quietly set the paring knife back down on the tray.
“But seriously, how messed up do you think Tae Woon-hyung is to force someone into a cult?”
“Messed up enough to make the Crow Cult a national religion just because he’s love-struck and unhinged.”
“……”
Hangyeol couldn’t exactly argue with Pi Minhyung’s blunt take, so he muttered a follow-up instead.
“So if hyung did tell you all to worship the Crow… you wouldn’t?”
The three averted their eyes.
Hangyeol narrowed his gaze. See? You’d all end up cult members too, and yet I’m the one getting grilled.
Still, he softened his expression. He knew they’d kidnapped him because they were worried. Some outsiders whispered that they only pretended to be close—especially since Gaeun spoke so formally it made the younger ones nervous. But the truth was, they were real family. After losing his parents in an accident and spending years getting the cold shoulder from relatives, this was the first real family Hangyeol had ever had.
I want to tell them the truth…
He didn’t want to keep secrets from them—but Kim Sibaek had asked him not to. Unless someone came to believe in Lord Biendeoé the way he had, he didn’t want to cause confusion or make them feel pressured.
So Hangyeol gave them the same excuse he’d given the mages in the Research Division.
“That Crow knows some magic, right? And… well, when I pray before doing magic experiments, things just tend to go better. Plus, hyung’s healing power is pretty unreal. All in all, it’s the perfect setup for a prayer meta, don’t you think…?”
That wasn’t a total lie. The Research Division—who knew more about Kim Sibaek’s abilities than the average Hunter—had started half-jokingly praying to Biendeoé. Half-serious, half-meme, but still a thing.
“And I’m not even joking—the Crow understands human speech really well. You should try talking to it sometime. You’ll see.”
“…Really?”
Their expressions were mixed, but they seemed to buy it—for now. Feeling guilty for misleading them, Hangyeol brought up something else that had been on his mind.
“Speaking of hyung… are you sure he never came to our orphanage to volunteer or anything?”
“Why ask that out of nowhere?”
“Lately I’ve been getting this weird feeling.”
Hangyeol scratched the back of his neck, unsure how to explain.
“Back when I was living at the orphanage… sometimes I feel like I used to play with him.”
***
Not every country had managed to weather the chaos of the Cataclysm. In many places, the government’s control crumbled, law and order collapsed, and with Hunters fleeing overseas, some nations were barely clinging to statehood. For those whose territories were mostly overrun by Fields, a new form of economic survival emerged—offering their hunting grounds to foreign Hunters for profit.
North Korea was one of those countries.
Even before the Cataclysm, its population density had been low. Afterward, large numbers of people—including many Hunters—defected. China had fallen into chaos after the People’s Assembly bombing. Russia was embroiled in civil war. Help was scarce. It was inevitable that most of North Korea’s territory, aside from a few major cities, would become Field zones.
In the aftermath, North Korea reached out to the South, which had recovered from the Cataclysm’s chaos with a speed rivaling the Miracle on the Han River. South Korea, in turn, became the country that dispatched the largest number of Hunters to North Korean hunting grounds.
Inter-Korean relations—economically and politically—had grown closer than ever. And that momentum had only accelerated after the current head of state took office.
“He used to be the fifth most powerful man in the North Korean regime. Then, after a terrorist attack wiped out the four above him in one fell swoop, he got bumped up to the top without even meaning to. It’s like if our Foreign Minister suddenly became President overnight.”
He understood, better than anyone, that in North Korea’s regime—propped up by force and fear—his own life hung by a thread. After the Cataclysm, not a single national leader had died peacefully in bed.
“He was the kind of guy who enjoyed just enough power, just enough luxury, just enough perks—never overreached, always stayed in his lane. Guess that made him smart enough to know his limits.”
Tae Woon’s sharp, straight-to-the-point summary made Kim Sibaek genuinely impressed. This kid missed his calling. If he’d gone into teaching, he could’ve been one of those viral superstar lecturers. Rich as hell, too.
Now, the North Korean leader had set his sights on a single goal: to retire in comfort, loaded with cash, and live out the rest of his days in peace. Quietly, through unofficial channels, he began pushing the idea to the South Korean government—reunification.
“Sure, there are a few hardliners in the North calling it treason, selling out the country, but they’re a minority. Most people think it was only a matter of time anyway. The North’s basically an economic vassal state at this point.”
“I mean, if your choices are watching monsters at your doorstep or living safe behind a Barrier, the decision’s kind of a no-brainer.”
Tae Woon grinned like a proud professor watching his star student piece things together. Not everything had to be spelled out when the listener was sharp enough to read between the lines.
“That’s why South Korea hasn’t exactly jumped at the chance to help with Barrier construction or Magi purification outside the cities. Lots of talk, not much action.”
As Tae Woon wrapped up his quick crash course on the state of inter-Korean affairs, their car arrived at Cheongju Airport. Several limos carrying Hunters from the 7777 Guild had already pulled in, and buses from other guilds summoned for Field operations south of Gae-seong were arriving one after another.
“I can’t believe there’s a direct flight from South Korea to North Korea now…”
For Kim Sibaek—whose knowledge of the North hadn’t evolved since the early 2000s—it was a surreal sight. Biendeoé, perched lazily on his crown, didn’t seem interested. As usual, she let out a slow yawn from the top of his head, utterly indifferent to anything Korean-related.
“Once Seoul is fully restored, they’ll reconnect the trains and highways too.”
“Back in my day, Mount Kumgang tours were the only thing anyone talked about.”
“You never actually went, right? Not that it matters—these days, Mount Kumgang’s just a Field. All you’ll see there now are monsters.”
“Right…”
Kim Sibaek was about to say, Then let’s go hunt there together someday—but the words caught in his throat. Together. That single word felt too loaded, too vulnerable, like a whispered plea that maybe, just maybe, he could still stay by Tae Woon’s side.
He leaned in and rested his forehead against Tae Woon’s shoulder, careful not to show his face.
“Hyung? What’s wrong?”
Tae Woon sounded puzzled, but gently reached over and rubbed his back. His touch was cool and composed as always, but still warm in a quiet, comforting way. Buried in that warmth, Kim Sibaek bit down on his lower lip. The future waiting for them—one that promised separation—was already too painful to face.
“I’m just… used to it.”
“Can’t you give me a piece of your long, long life? Just one shard—something to hold onto.”
The memory came flooding back. The child who’d always said he didn’t need help. The boy who endured everything without complaint. But now, that same boy was desperately asking for a single fragment—just one piece—before time tore them apart.
What kind of future awaited him once Sibaek was gone?
And now that Sibaek finally understood him—truly saw the boy for who he was after all this time—what kind of future could he face?
Wasn’t there some way to stay by Tae Woon’s side without abandoning everything in Mak Slechth? Without giving it all up, couldn’t there be a future where they didn’t have to say goodbye?
