“They might use Dr. Carter as leverage to lure the only healer in the U.S. over to their side. If we don’t intervene, Carter’s not the type to run his mouth—but still.”
“That does make sense… But we’ve got our Guildmaster here in Korea, don’t we? There’s no way he’d just ditch everything and follow his brother like that, right?”
He had a boyfriend 14 years younger waiting in Korea. No matter how tempting the bait was, could he really be swayed that easily just because it was his brother? At that pointed question, Tae Woon’s eyes wavered—ever so slightly—for the first time.
“…It’s not like that.”
But the flicker disappeared with a single blink, and Gwak Yoonsang couldn’t read anything else from his face.
Tae Woon, now composed again, loosened his suffocating tie just a bit and muttered under his breath.
“If it came down to choosing between me and Dr. Carter, Sibaek-hyung would choose Carter. No question.”
“H-Hey now. You two are close, aren’t you?”
It was hard to find the right words to counter that, so Gwak Yoonsang mumbled awkwardly. Fortunately, Tae Woon didn’t seem inclined to continue. He simply resumed walking, and Yoonsang quickened his steps to follow.
“Even if I keep quiet, wouldn’t people catch on just by seeing how close the two of them are? It’s not like you can lock him in a room.”
“That’s your job to handle.”
“…R-Right.”
For once, Tae Woon had offered advice, and Gwak Yoonsang had dared to push his luck—only to be swiftly reminded of his place. He mentally scrambled to consider backup plans: stall for time, beg Kim Sibaek to stay in Korea, maybe even cling to his leg if necessary. As he weighed his options, he pulled out his phone and called Director Noh.
If he ever found his brother again, what would he say first? Would he pull him into a hug and whisper how much he’d missed him? Ask if he was hurt? …Before he’d seen the name in that ledger, he’d spent countless sleepless nights just imagining those first words.
But now, standing face to face with the brother who had once given in to despair and given up on life, Kim Sibaek couldn’t even remember what he was saying. The only thing that came out of his mouth was the line he’d repeated in every dream, every hallucination—over and over again.
“I’m sorry.”
That single apology.
Cloud stayed silent, watching the tears fall from his brother’s eyes and land on the back of his hand. Then, he asked softly,
“Why are you apologizing? Did you sell me out with Father? Did you just watch while he did it? Did you split the money with him? No—you didn’t.”
“…Siwoon.”
“Then why are you saying sorry?”
His voice was still slow and halting, just like when he was little—but his words were composed, articulate, and perfectly clear. Hearing the genuine confusion in his brother’s voice, Kim Sibaek wiped his tears and managed a shaky smile.
“You’re speaking so well now, Siwoon. Hasn’t it been over thirty years since you were adopted?”
“I kept studying and practicing Korean so I wouldn’t forget it. Just in case I saw you again.”
“You did good. I only know ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ in English.”
It was meant as a joke, the kind that should’ve earned a laugh—but Cloud’s blank expression didn’t change. Just like when he was a child. Just like in the dreams.
The overwhelming rush of emotion from seeing his brother again was suddenly scraped raw by the jagged edge of memory. Kim Sibaek took a deep breath and gently held Cloud’s hand. This warmth—it wasn’t a dream or an illusion. His brother was alive. Right here.
“…You haven’t changed.”
“Huh? Oh, sorry. I’m not a kid anymore—I keep touching you like one. That’s weird, huh?”
Kim Sibaek quickly tried to pull his hand away, but Cloud held on instead. As if reconnecting with a long-lost sensation, he spoke slowly, quietly.
“When I didn’t respond much as a kid, you’d always help me understand what was going on by touching my hand or my face really gently. You’re still the same.”
…So that was it. That strange quietness from back then—it had been autism. Kim Sibaek swallowed the bitter taste of his past ignorance.
And in that moment, he also realized something else. Why he had that habit. Why he’d always found himself reaching out to touch Tae Woon among the other kids at the orphanage. Sure, part of it was because of those plump, healthy cheeks—but more than anything, it was because Tae Woon reminded him of his brother.
He’d thought—if I keep this kid close, if I hold him the way I held Siwoon, maybe he’ll be able to fit in and find happiness in the world. It had been a clumsy, naive hope, but it came from the heart.
…Now that he thought about it, he’d projected so much of his brother onto Tae Woon.
“I really love my name, hyung.”
Tae Woon had every reason to be upset—but he’d never once shown it. Instead, he’d welcomed it, sweet and sincere. Even now, he’d quietly stepped out of the room with Lord Biendeoé, slipping away without a trace—like it was only natural for him to make space.
“Hyung, if it were between me and that kid, who would you choose?”
“If Siwoon-hyung had been alive, he would’ve meant more to you than someone like me, right? Someone who just ruined your life?”
Two similar but distinct voices echoed in his head, sharp and throbbing. Kim Sibaek forced himself to focus back on his brother’s voice.
“I looked it up later—most autistic people don’t like being touched, right? You didn’t like it either, did you? I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t like it. But it was okay when it was you. Even as a kid, I knew that if it hadn’t been for you, I probably would’ve died.”
The younger brother who used to crawl into his arms during those terrifying nights of their father’s violence was now the one holding his hand. Kim Sibaek gently patted the back of that hand and stroked his brother’s face.
“You’ve still got that scar on your forehead… Do you remember how you got it?”
“No.”
Cloud said he only vaguely remembered going to the hospital. So Kim Sibaek gently began untangling the threads of an old memory.
Their father had gone completely unhinged after realizing their mother had run away. In his frenzy, he’d thrown an ashtray—one that ended up hitting Cloud. If Sibaek hadn’t yanked his brother into his arms in time, it would’ve struck him head-on, and the injury could’ve been much worse.
In a twisted way, it had been lucky. Their mother had secretly slipped Sibaek some money before she vanished, and thanks to that, he was able to grab Cloud’s health insurance card and rush him to the local clinic.
“Oh, right. Mom and Dad…”
“I heard. You said Mom’s dead.”
Cloud’s choice of words was cold, almost indifferent, and it made Sibaek let out a bitter laugh.
“Dad died not long after her. Yeah… he’s gone too. But how did you even hear about Mom? And how did you know I was here?”
Sibaek had assumed word had spread overseas—after all, he was the world’s only healing-type, and news like that tended to go global. But Cloud’s answer wasn’t anything like he expected.
“…I had a strange experience.”
“What kind of experience?”
Without a word, Cloud pulled out his phone and showed him an email. A single, anonymous message that revealed the whereabouts of his half-siblings. It had somehow reached all the way to Sister Hyoju Agnes.
A strange experience indeed—and not one unfamiliar to Kim Sibaek.
He listened quietly, careful not to let on how unsettling it was, then asked in a soft voice,
“Siwoon, how did you end up meeting your adoptive parents?”
In his usual slow, deliberate cadence, Cloud began recounting his past. And everything he said lined up exactly with the version Sibaek had seen in his dreams—except for one detail. In the dreams, his brother had studied biology. In real life, he’d majored in Monsterology.
That made perfect sense.
In the dream world, there had never been a Cataclysm. Monsters were nothing more than creatures out of fantasy novels.
***
They got so caught up in conversation that neither realized how late it had gotten. If Gwak Yoonsang hadn’t been thoughtful enough to have dinner delivered to their room, they might have skipped the meal entirely.
Finding out that Cloud still loved pork cutlets brought a quiet, unexpected joy. Knowing he’d grown up safe and loved under the care of kind adoptive parents—that was an even deeper relief.
“They’ll be happy to meet you too,” Cloud said with calm certainty.
In Sibaek’s dreams, his brother’s adoptive parents had adored him like their own. And now, it seemed reality had followed the same script. When Cloud showed him a family photo—and the faces matched the ones from his dreams—Sibaek didn’t even flinch. He wasn’t surprised anymore.
Time slipped by too fast, as if trying to make up for everything they’d lost. Sibaek wished they could sit there forever, knees touching, just talking through the night. But reality always had its limits.
“I think I was so excited to see you, I didn’t even notice how tired I was,” Cloud said, analyzing himself with quiet accuracy. The adrenaline had finally worn off. He admitted he hadn’t gotten much sleep in days—and it was starting to show.
Sibaek stayed at his side until Cloud drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep. Only then did he quietly slip out of the room. It was already well past midnight.
This had originally been the room he shared with Tae Woon. But at some point, the room’s original occupant had quietly stepped aside. Sibaek had already confirmed the Divine Words from Biendeoé, whom Tae Woon had reportedly taken to Pi Minhyung.
Now, the whole place was silent, everyone else long asleep.
He walked down the dimly lit corridor, eventually stopping in front of the room number Gwak Yoonsang had given him. He reached out to knock—but paused. Instead, he gently tested the door handle.
It wasn’t even fully closed.
The door opened smoothly, like someone had been waiting for him to come.
Without making a sound, Sibaek stepped inside.
There, lying with his back to the door, was Tae Woon.
