“Are you planning to go on another blind date with some other woman next time? Because if you do, I’ll find out again—no matter what—and come looking for you… I’ll secretly watch the whole date… I’ll sit there feeling sad while imagining your cute grandson…”
“Okay. I won’t.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I’m the cutest, right?”
Pi Minhyung, forced to listen in on the conversation, muttered a curse under his breath. “Fucking hell. I’m losing it.” Kim Sibaek pretended not to hear. In the past, when Tae Woon acted like this in front of him, Pi Minhyung would just ignore it like it was normal. But now, with all his memories wiped, maybe he hadn’t adapted yet.
Kim Sibaek, however, had conveniently forgotten a basic truth: even if Pi Minhyung did remember the past, there was no way the clinginess of a five- to fourteen-year-old could compare to that of a thirty-five-year-old adult.
Trying to validate Tae Woon’s cuteness and boost his self-esteem, Kim Sibaek made an effort…
“You looked great in a suit, but you pull off casual clothes really well too. With your hair down like that, you actually look like a college student. If we go out together, people might think you’re younger than me.”
…and ended up saying something completely over the top. Unable to bear it any longer, Yang Eunho sent a discreet message to the person beside him.
[When I just heard the stories, I thought Tae Woon-hyung was the problem. But seeing it in person… I think the bigger issue is that guy.]
Yang Eunho summed up the situation with brutal accuracy: the root of the madness was that someone was indulging it.
[Yeah.]
Now that he had recovered from the blind date disaster, Tae Woon seemed to have mostly returned to his usual self. Not that it mattered—Yang Eunho would bet his entire month’s paycheck that someone had already posted a sighting online. He considered relocating, but figured Tae Woon would still be Tae Woon no matter where they went, so he decided to just shamelessly roll with it.
After finally calming things down, he also greeted Kim Sibaek.
“Hyung, this problem’s really hard. Can you help me with it?”
Back in high school, Kim Sibaek had been an athlete who barely showed up to class, much less studied. Yet this same kid had once come to him with a high school math problem and left him sweating bullets. The glasses he wore were just like back then. Did he still like studying now? Curious, Kim Sibaek looked at him—only for Yang Eunho to quickly avert his gaze.
“…….”
After what Tae Woon had just pulled, he couldn’t say a word. Kim Sibaek sighed and rubbed his temples.
“Does your head hurt? Want me to blow on it?”
“It’s probably hurting because of you.”
“Shut up.”
Tae Woon shot Pi Minhyung a glare and crushed the ice in his mouth with a loud crunch. But when Kim Sibaek looked at him, he quickly feigned innocence. Trying to steer the awkward mood in a different direction, Kim Sibaek glanced around—and happened to catch sight of something that had been bothering him for a while.
“That black mark—is that a tattoo?”
“Where?”
A black, vein-like tattoo stretched along the side of Tae Woon’s left neck. Normally it stayed hidden under a buttoned-up shirt collar, but today, with just a round-neck T-shirt under his varsity jacket, it stood out clearly.
As someone whose consciousness was still rooted in the early 2000s, Kim Sibaek couldn’t help the flood of thoughts. A tattoo on the body of a younger brother who felt like family—of course he had questions.
At first, he’d wondered if it had been a rebellious phase. That alone had kept him from asking. But after hearing Director Noh’s trustworthy words, he realized that probably wasn’t it.
So what was Tae Woon thinking when he got that tattoo? Driven by curiosity, he pressed his index finger against the ink.
“This tattoo—”
“Ahhn♡”
“…?!”
A moan. A moan. Not from pain, but something soft, sweet, and unmistakably sensual.
Kim Sibaek went pale. Pi Minhyung, who had been sucking on a candy instead of a cigarette, dropped his jaw. Yang Eunho, who had just stood up to go to the bathroom, collapsed back into his seat. Even Biendeoé, who had turned her back to Tae Woon, whipped around in shock. Meanwhile, Tae Woon’s neck flushed a bright, rosy pink.
“That’s one of my erogenous zones… Hyung, that was way too sexy… Haa.”
Right then, a system window popped up.
[Quest 01. CLEAR]
[Congratulations on completing your first quest! Keep up the great work! Your reward is the fun time you shared with your little brothers ^^]
…Fun time? This was it?
Feeling like crying, Kim Sibaek buried his face in both hands. Amid the chaos, the matter of the tattoo was completely forgotten.
***
It had been a delightful time.
He entered the bathroom in such high spirits, he could’ve hummed. After the cafe, they had dinner together at a shabu-shabu restaurant that had gotten great feedback from the others. During that time, he had looked at him. Felt him. His five senses—sight, touch, smell, hearing, taste—were filled entirely with him. Through him, he finally felt whole.
Tae Woon loved that. It was all he had.
And he hoped the same was true for him.
Tae Woon wanted to carve himself into Kim Sibaek.
Whether he remained on Earth or returned as Mak Slechth, no matter where he was or what he became, he wanted Kim Sibaek to remember him—remember the version of Tae Woon etched into his soul. Just as Kim Sibaek had been indelibly engraved into his own spirit since he was five years old.
For that, Tae Woon was willing to do anything.
“A tattoo, huh…”
Tae Woon had been about to take off his T-shirt but caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and scoffed. If this were just a tattoo, Hyung, I would’ve torn it off—skin and all.
The black markings, branching like veins—the ones everyone, Kim Sibaek included, assumed to be a tattoo—extended beyond the visible nape of his neck, disappearing beneath the collar and into the skin underneath.
As he brushed his fingers over the so-called “tattoo,” the texture displeased him. He looked down at his hand. This…thing, meant nothing to him. What he wanted was to touch Kim Sibaek. To see him, to taste him, to feel him.
That was all that mattered.
It was for that alone that Tae Woon continued to endure.
***
Apostles, Paladins, and the gods who bless them exist in a symbiotic relationship. Through their Apostles and Paladins, the gods spread their divinity, while the Apostles and Paladins, in turn, cultivate divine power through the faith offered to their gods.
This deep bond means that when a god manifests nearby through an Incarnate Body, they can perceive surface thoughts to some extent. Occasionally, they even glimpse fragments of subconscious imagery—snatches of dreams.
In the ancient days, when light and shadow first separated, the genealogy of the gods began with Heegu, the Creator God who formed Mak Slechth after defeating Chaos, and Changje, the God of Origin. Among their descendants was Biendeoé, the fourth-generation goddess of death and beauty—young, and fragile.
Because the god of the underworld from the previous generation had been slain by Chaos, the task fell to the young fourth-generation deities to descend into the underworld. Biendeoé’s twin sister, the goddess of death and rest, ruled over the realm, leaving Biendeoé with little to no role.
To this obscure young goddess—so unknown that even her divine name was unfamiliar to mortals—Kim Sibaek was the first human to truly commune with her. Everything about it was new. And Biendeoé understood that without him, her divine presence might never have grown. For that, she was grateful.
And perhaps, for that very reason, she believed it was likely Kim Sibaek who had caused her fall into this strange world. Yet she did not resent him. Even now, with her divine power weakened, just being near him made her feel like her old self again. The feeling resembled nostalgia—something close to memory.
In short, Biendeoé liked Kim Sibaek very, very much.
That boy Si-baek dreamed about—the one he believed to be his younger brother—and that man named Tae Woon… they must be the same.
As Kim Sibaek lay in bed, lost in thought, Biendeoé perched on his chest, plucking at a feather from her Incarnate Body, revisiting old memories.
It was through Kim Sibaek that she realized how infinitely vast and intricate human dreams could be. Sometimes, dreams reflected the past like mirrors—and within those reflections, two people appeared more often than any others: his deceased younger brother, and Tae Woon.
Tonight again, he had dreamed of his brother. A small, expressionless child calling out, “Hyung-ah.”
After returning to Earth, dreams of his brother had become even more frequent. Though Kim Sibaek never voiced his anguish, swallowing it down alone, Biendeoé had never failed to notice. She worried deeply—but this wasn’t a wound that comfort could heal. All she could do was watch over him in silence.
“It was all my fault. He had no one but me. Only me. And I failed to protect him. I let him slip away.”
There had been a night when Kim Sibaek awoke from a nightmare about his brother—writhing in agony, as though his organs were being torn apart while he was still alive. That night, he poured out a long, raw confession.
He had said that when he realized his brother was truly gone, he had decided to die.
“…The one who saved me then was Woonie.”
