Kim Sibaek’s first impression of the man was simply: black.
From the neatly slicked-back hair to the flawlessly tailored three-piece suit, the polished shoes, the leather gloves, and even the coat draped over his shoulders—everything he wore was a deep, unrelenting black.
But above all, it was his eyes.
The jet-black irises, framed by whites so shadowed they seemed nonexistent, reflected no light and locked onto Sibaek’s gaze with such intensity that the rest of the man’s appearance faded from focus. Only when he tore his attention away did he finally take in the man’s face—an elegance that could’ve inspired gasps in any other situation.
His sharply defined features, cut with precision, held a striking intensity that was neither harsh nor flimsy. If they had been any bolder, they might have seemed dull; any more delicate, and the balance would’ve been off. It was a rare, exquisite kind of beauty.
Even in Sibaek’s decades of experience as an esteemed Apostle of a prominent order—mingling with elites and encountering all manner of beautiful faces—this level of allure was extraordinary. The last time someone’s appearance had drawn his gaze like this was that child, once the most adorable and beautiful being in his world.
‘The upward slant of the eyes… really does resemble him a lot…’
But on the man’s left cheek was a massive scar, as if clawed savagely by a wild beast. The brutal mark, paired with his unnaturally pale complexion, paradoxically gave off a visceral sense of life—proof he wasn’t a corpse.
Cold, emotionless black pupils stared wordlessly at Kim Sibaek.
[Death and Beauty says this one’s aura is fouler than the Edokers.]
“…Excuse me, Guildmaster Tae?”
Even as Lord Biendeoé and Gwak Yoonsang displayed clear confusion, Kim Sibaek quietly observed the man. Objectively speaking, the man was extremely handsome. But something about the black outfit and that vicious scar gave off a sharp, intimidating vibe. His chilly, blank expression didn’t help.
And so, Sibaek’s final conclusion:
‘…Is he a gangster?’
Regardless of his looks, the man had the air of someone who had just dumped a body. The scar alone wasn’t something to be taken lightly. If he was some gang member, it wouldn’t be surprising if he suddenly picked a fight while glaring daggers like that.
Still, there was something gnawing at the edge of Sibaek’s thoughts. That eye—those jet-black, narrow eyes—there was something…
As a strange sense of déjà vu narrowed his brow, it was the man who finally broke the silence. Without changing his expression, he took a step forward. Click, clack. His shoes tapped evenly against the floor as he moved, a cold chill following in his wake.
Even as Gwak Yoonsang tensed and reached for the hilt of his blade, Kim Sibaek remained seated, composed. He was confident he could protect himself if needed—and more than that, he was curious to see how this man, who stormed in unannounced and radiated hostility, would act next. It had been at least thirty years since anyone had dared to confront him like this in Mak Slechth.
The man approached, cold air trailing behind, and looked down at him. Mid-thirties, maybe? He’d noticed it when the man walked in, but his height was remarkable. 195 centimeters? 196?
His lips, as pale as his face, parted slightly.
“Hyung.”
Hyung. The plain, unremarkable word slipped from the man’s tongue—and in that instant, like a scent of flowers blooming from the tip of a branch, vibrant life spread across his face. It was as if a monochrome painting had suddenly been flooded with color.
The man, who had looked so much like a corpse, now beamed with a warm, radiant smile.
“Sibaek-hyung, I missed you so much.”
The desolate plains, swept by frigid gales, transformed into the serene warmth of a spring meadow. All from uttering a single term of address. Even Kim Sibaek, who had been watching without much thought, found himself swallowing a gasp at the sheer beauty of that smile.
But admiration aside, Sibaek’s response was clear.
“Who are you?”
He had no gangster little brother, after all.
Tae Woon.
Who was he?
An S-rank Hunter. Guildmaster of one of Korea’s top guilds—7777. A man with immense power, naturally followed by wealth and deep connections to high-ranking, renowned Hunters.
But what he was most famous for wasn’t his ability, his looks, or his oddly casino-sounding guild name. It was his personality.
Violent, cruel, and utterly ruthless—he was the kind of person no one could handle.
In short, Tae Woon was a mad dog.
And that mad dog—rather than baring his fangs or pouncing on the nearest person—was smiling brightly, eyes twinkling, and speaking politely. It was no wonder Gwak Yoonsang was struggling to accept reality.
He’d been seriously considering seeing a psychiatrist after work, and now, hearing that casual “Who are you?” triggered a wave of betrayal.
‘You speak Korean?! And fluent, native Seoul dialect at that!’
Whether or not Gwak Yoonsang was shaking with disbelief, Kim Sibaek calmly lifted his hand to shield Lord Biendeoé and asked again. The man had clearly called him Sibaek-hyung, which meant he definitely knew him. With that one phrase, theories of parallel worlds or a 70-year time gap had been wiped clean.
The problem was—he truly didn’t recognize that face.
“Do you know me?”
“Hmm.”
Tae Woon scratched at the corner of his mouth, looking both troubled and amused.
“You really don’t? I mean, I have changed a lot…”
“I’ve never taken bribes from a gangster, if that’s what this is.”
“Ha ha. I never went around beating people up or doing bad things. I was a good boy, waiting patiently for you to come back, hyung.”
Gwak Yoonsang, who had unintentionally eavesdropped, was utterly dumbfounded. Sure, maybe Tae Woon hadn’t beaten people himself. He probably just killed them or devoured them.
“Hmm. Maybe you’ll recognize me if I do this?”
With a grace unbefitting his large frame, Tae Woon gently lowered himself to the floor. Sitting completely on the ground, he looked up at Kim Sibaek and softly leaned his face against Sibaek’s knee, letting out a serene smile.
“Hyung.”
Gwak Yoonsang broke out in goosebumps at the sight, but Kim Sibaek was finally struck by a vivid sense of déjà vu.
Hyung.
How could he not know? How could he possibly forget?
That bright smile, those chasing footsteps, that face.
Woonie loves Hyung the most in the world. The child used to whisper bashfully into his ear, cheeks turning pink as he waited for the response. And when Sibaek replied, I love you the most too, the child would light up as if the whole world had become his.
Of everything Kim Sibaek had ever seen or experienced, Woonie had been the most adorable, the most precious.
“…Woon-ah?”
Tae Woon, his gaze filled with the warmth of that summer day, lazily replied.
“Yeah. It’s me, Woonie. Sibaek-hyung.”
***
It was a shock. A complete and utter shock.
More shocking than the truth that time flowed differently in the world he had left behind. More shocking than the twisted journey that somehow ended with his return to Korea. How could something like this happen…?
Kim Sibaek stared at Tae Woon in stunned disbelief.
“Why do you look so worn down…? My Woonie used to smell like sunlight when he stood still, and like milk when he toddled around. His cheeks were round and soft with baby fat, the kind that squishes just right in your hand. He was so tiny and cute…”
“Right? I should’ve taken better care of my skin to slow the aging a bit.”
The child he’d raised on his back since age five had skipped all stages of growth and appeared now as a fully grown man in his mid-thirties. And whatever had happened in the meantime, there was now a massive scar across his face.
The shock was so overwhelming that Kim Sibaek couldn’t pull himself together. Not even when he crash-landed in Mak Slechth had he panicked this badly.
[Death and Beauty stares at the man before you with a baffled expression, then commands you to get a grip.]
At some point, Lord Biendeoé had climbed onto his scalp and began pecking at it sharply.
“Ow, ow, ow. But Woon-ah, what happened to your face? How did you get such a terrible wound? That really breaks my heart…”
“It really hurt when it happened.”
“Oh no, did it hurt a lot?”
“Yeah. Wounds near the eyes bleed a lot, right? The bleeding wouldn’t stop, and it was so scary and painful… I really missed you then, Hyung…”
As if recalling the moment, Tae Woon trembled slightly. Overlapping that figure was the memory of little Tae Woon, who once skinned his knee badly, stoically made it back to the orphanage, and then burst into tears the moment he spotted Sibaek from a distance.
Just like back then, Sibaek’s eyes were filled with concern—but for Gwak Yoonsang, this was a waking nightmare.
He knew for a fact that scar was from the Battle of Busan Restoration seventeen years ago. Scared his ass—this guy had charged into a horde of demonic beasts drenched in blood from head to toe and decapitated all nine heads of a superior-rank S-class beast, Xiangliu. And he’d done it at eighteen.
Meanwhile, Kim Sibaek, with Tae Woon now rubbing his cheek against his knee, actually felt relieved. Even though the kid had grown up to look older than him, the way he clung and acted spoiled made him seem like that same precious child from back then.
[Death and Beauty asks if that giant man rubbing up against you still seems “adorable.”]
It couldn’t be helped. No matter how big or old Tae Woon got, in Kim Sibaek’s eyes, he would always be that five-year-old little boy. He had long accepted this truth.
He wanted to heal the scar, but it was far too old. All he could do was gently stroke the wounded cheek. Tae Woon’s eyes softened with a gentle smile.
“Did you run into a bear or something up in the mountains?”
“Not a bear—a demonic beast.”
“Ah…”
Sibaek trailed off awkwardly. He had a thousand questions—how many years had passed, where did the beasts come from, was he in contact with anyone—but he knew how to listen first.
“U-uh, so, just to clarify—you do know Guildmaster Tae Woon, right? And your name was Sibaek, correct?”
Gwak Yoonsang, having waited desperately for an opening in the conversation, quickly seized the moment.
“I apologize, but could I ask for your full name? I don’t mean to pry—it’s just that we want to properly thank and reward you for your help…”
“Manager Gwak. I’m talking with my hyung right now.”
Tae Woon stood and looked down at Gwak Yoonsang. His voice dropped cold and sharp—very different from how he spoke to Sibaek. Gwak noticed the hem of Tae Woon’s coat twitch ever so slightly and froze.
I’m so fcked.
He never imagined just asking for a name during a lull in conversation would piss the guy off. Surely… surely he wasn’t going to, like, eat him over this… right?
While Gwak was frantically searching for an escape route, something even more unexpected unfolded right before his eyes.
