“Wait, you beat up a ninth grader? Damn, that’s impressive.”
It was spring, twenty-one years ago—the year Tae Woon and Pi Minhyung entered middle school. Not long after school started, Minhyung got into it with a third-year delinquent. He dragged Tae Woon along for what turned into a full-on group brawl. Despite the odds, the two of them came out on top. Sure, the “victory” landed them in the hospital for a few days, but a win was a win.
When Detective Park heard the story from Kim Sibaek—who could hardly believe it—he just laughed and took the boys out to a barbecue place as a get-well treat. Tae Woon usually avoided adult men out of fear thanks to Tae Chul-hoon, but he made exceptions for anyone introduced by Kim Sibaek.
As Minhyung excitedly recounted the fight while stuffing his face with grilled meat, Kim Sibaek let out a heavy sigh.
“You have any idea how worried the Sister and Father were? I’m a cop, and even I got chewed out by your teacher for letting my ‘little brother’ get into a fight. What, you guys go to school just to throw punches?”
First-year middle schoolers were practically still kids. Thankfully, the ninth-grade punks, too embarrassed to admit they got their asses handed to them by “elementary schoolers,” insisted they’d just gotten hurt fighting among themselves. The lie helped the school sweep it under the rug.
Minhyung stuck out his bottom lip at the scolding.
“They kept bullying Yura noona, saying she was dirty just because she lives at the orphanage. What, I’m supposed to sit back and do nothing while they treat her like that?”
Yang Yura was two years older than the boys, a resident of Somang Orphanage. He’d kept his mouth shut about why the fight happened, but now that the truth finally came out, Kim Sibaek was momentarily speechless.
“Fighting’s not good… but sometimes, you’ve got to fight to protect someone.”
Detective Park grinned and scooped some meat onto Minhyung’s plate.
Hard to tell kids fighting’s always bad when someone else started it. Raising children wasn’t easy. Lost in thought, Kim Sibaek wrapped up a big lettuce wrap, stuffed it with meat, and popped it into Tae Woon’s mouth. Watching the kid chew with his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk was weirdly soothing. He felt like kissing those round cheeks—but reminded himself the kid was fourteen, not five, and held back.
Across the table, Minhyung shot his hand up.
“Hyung! Me too! I want a wrap too!”
Kim Sibaek didn’t notice Tae Woon glaring at him for copying and fed Minhyung a wrap as well. Minhyung chewed happily with his tiny mouth, just like Tae Woon. Adorable. Healing. Even if these were the same kids who’d gotten into a fistfight at school just days ago…
Another sigh. Telling them not to fight was pointless. Minhyung would complain out loud, and Tae Woon—quiet and obedient as he was—would still throw hands the moment someone picked a fight.
If they were gonna fight anyway, maybe he should at least teach them how not to get hurt too badly. Kim Sibaek glanced between the boys.
“If you ever end up against someone bigger, or if the other side brings a crowd and it looks bad, go straight for the leader and—”
He gently tapped Tae Woon on the forehead with his finger.
“—slam your forehead into their nose. Your skull’s hard as hell, so you’ll probably break their nose. Then just keep going after that one guy.”
In kid fights, the first one to bleed usually panics and loses their nerve. If both sides are scrappy, seeing one guy get the crap beaten out of him is enough to freak the rest out.
It was a serious and—at least in his mind—rational piece of advice. But Detective Park burst out laughing, holding his stomach.
“Man, it’s a good thing you became a cop. Even if you’d gone off the rails, I’m sure we’d have met at the station eventually.”
“That’s not an insult, right, sir?”
“It’s a compliment, dumbass. And you two—don’t try to shoulder everything on your own. Kids who grow up too fast always burn out. You’ve got adults like Sibaek and the Sisters you can lean on, don’t you?”
Tae Woon’s cheeks flushed pink. In a quiet, shy voice, he mumbled,
“I know. Hyung will always protect me and help me.”
“…Detective Park?”
The name slipped from his lips before he realized it. As the memory came rushing back, the man—his old partner and senior—turned toward him. He was older now, visibly worn by time.
“Do I… know you?”
The look in his eyes—vaguely confused, like he was staring at a stranger—scraped raw against Sibaek’s chest. He quickly masked his expression with a practiced smile.
“You helped me a long time ago, sir.”
“Oh yeah? If you were this good-looking back then, I’m sure I’d remember.”
The wrinkles were deeper now, and the hair was grayer, but that warm, kind face hadn’t changed. You made it out safe too, didn’t you, sunbae? That familiar ache of nostalgia lingered on his tongue.
“It was nothing big. You probably don’t remember. When I was a kid, you bought me a meal once.”
He let out a soft, nostalgic chuckle.
“With a bit of scolding on the side.”
Before moving to Violent Crimes, Detective Park had worked in the Juvenile Division, constantly dealing with troubled teens. The ones who showed remorse or had a story behind them? He’d buy them a hot meal and offer some comfort.
Framing it like he’d been one of those kids, Sibaek watched as the older man’s expression softened.
“Haha, that so? What school were you from?”
“Ilmun High. Thanks to you, I got my act together. Didn’t go off the rails. Now I’m just another adult doing my part.”
[Death and Beauty says you’re just a wrinkly old man doing your part.]
While her Divine Words carried a teasing bite, Biendeoé, in her doll disguise, sat calmly nestled in his arms.
“If you’re not too busy… how about a meal together? This time, I’d like to treat you.”
The two relocated to a small restaurant just outside the prison that specializes in soft tofu stew. Detective Park, now nearing retirement age, was currently serving as the chief of a quiet rural police substation. He explained that he’d come by the prison to check on an inmate who’d been lingering on his mind.
At Kim Sibaek’s request to keep things casual, Park smiled awkwardly and dropped the formal speech.
“So… did you hurt your leg badly?”
“Nah, nothing serious.”
Park waved it off with a chuckle.
“Got nipped by a Monster back in Seoul. Just a scratch, really. I was one of those unlucky folks who didn’t manage to evacuate in time when things went to hell.”
Knowing Park’s personality, odds were high he’d stayed behind helping others and missed his chance to escape.
Over their early dinner, the two exchanged stories. Park, despite not remembering anything, was visibly pleased to know that a student he once helped had grown up well. Across the table, Sibaek couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of guilt.
Was it really okay to hold onto this sliver of a past connection by lying? Maybe he should’ve just let himself be forgotten, let it go.
But Park had been more than just a cop—he was a mentor who had quietly helped Sibaek through countless moments, even before his transfer to Violent Crimes. Before reason kicked in, his instincts had already called out to him.
Let this be enough.
Knowing Park was still the same decent man, knowing he was safe—that was enough. Their reunion could end here. A fleeting moment, quietly swallowed by time.
“Look at me, going on and on with my boring stories.”
Park laughed heartily as he scooped up a generous spoonful of steaming white tofu.
“So how old are you anyway? Most of the students I dealt with were back before the Cataclysm…”
“I’m older than I look, sir.”
This time, it was Kim Sibaek’s turn to talk. But instead of dragging out the tangled lies of his past, he chose to speak about the present—about now.
He told Park that he was a Hunter currently affiliated with the 7777 Guild. Park’s face lit up with genuine pride, like he was congratulating a family member.
“Guildmaster Tae Woon’s something else. Young as he is, the man’s incredible. You’ll learn a lot working under someone like him.”
His tone made it clear he had no personal connection to Tae Woon. As if he had never met the boy before the Cataclysm. As if the Tae Woon of the past—the one who’d clung to him like a younger brother—had never existed.
…So to him, I wasn’t replaced. I was erased. If I never existed, then his memories of meeting Woon or Minhyung must be gone too.
So far, the only memory they’d confirmed as altered was Tae Chul-hoon’s. What made that one different? As he turned the question over in his mind, Sibaek suddenly remembered something Tae Woon had said:
“But I got lucky. Ran into your old partner, Detective Park… but he didn’t remember you.”
It had bothered him at the time. This wasn’t something Tae Woon could’ve asked about casually through someone else—he must’ve gone to Park himself and asked directly.
“Detective… have you ever met our Guildmaster before? Back when you were in Seoul?”
