Detective Park had refused to show him the ledgers of the human trafficking ring. If he hadn’t seen them, would things have turned out differently? Could he have continued living peacefully, deceiving himself with that thin, pathetic lie—that his brother was alive and doing fine somewhere? Would he have gone on, turning away from the truth, never knowing what really happened?
But the truth came crashing down on him like a beast, tearing him apart. He couldn’t even remember how he made it back to his tiny, one-room apartment that day. The sounds that escaped him were closer to an animal’s than a human’s—raw, guttural groans crushed between his teeth.
He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything, but he felt neither hunger pangs nor thirst. All sensation had vanished, replaced by a nightmare that consumed him whole. Visions of his brother’s body—shredded and soaked in blood—ravaged his mind.
How terrified had he been? How many times had he cried out for his hyung? The last image he had of his little brother, rubbing sleep from his eyes and calling, “Hyung!” before heading off to school—was now tainted with terror. Kim Sibaek clawed at his own throat and screamed, hoarse and broken.
While he had been enjoying hot meals, restful nights, and fulfilling training, his brother had been left to rot—his body never even found. The nausea hit hard. Though his stomach was empty, bile rose in his throat, but not even the bitter taste could break through the numbness. No tears came. He didn’t deserve to cry.
What finally stirred his frozen limbs was a single, despair-soaked decision. After living so comfortably all this time—knowing nothing of the horror his abandoned brother must have endured—how could he go on living?
Kim Sibaek staggered upright. He bypassed the dull kitchen knife and grabbed his necktie. It didn’t even register that it was part of his police uniform. Even if it had, it wouldn’t have stopped him. The uniform he’d worn in hopes of finding his brother would now be the last thing he wore.
There was nothing on the ceiling sturdy enough. His first attempt was the doorknob. But the old door couldn’t handle the weight. The knob rattled, then came loose. Blankly, he scanned the cramped room again. His eyes landed on the window frame, reinforced with security bars.
The second attempt went smoothly. The necktie stretched tight around his throat. The burning in his lungs, the crushing pain in his chest—none of it could compare to what his brother must have felt. And just like that, Kim Sibaek plummeted into the darkness, where nightmares waited.
“Hyung! Sibaek-hyung!”
If it weren’t for that desperate voice, the nightmare surely would have claimed him. Air rushed into his lungs through his crushed windpipe, and Kim Sibaek broke into a violent fit of coughing. When he finally lifted his head, he saw a child’s tear-soaked face.
His tiny hands were covered in blood, unaware he’d hurt himself while sawing through the tie with the kitchen knife. Sobbing, he clung to him.
“Hyung, don’t be hurt… I hate it when you’re in pain… If you leave me like Mom and Dad, I’ll die too…”
The same shock as the first time his brother had called him “Hyung.” crashed down again. That one word—once a shackle—bound him all over again. As long as the child who bore his brother’s name kept calling for him, Kim Sibaek could never die.
“…I’m sorry, Woonie.”
The boy shook his head and threw his arms around Sibaek’s neck. Sobs spilled from him, soaking Sibaek’s nape with warm tears. For the first time, Sibaek could feel it. The sensation of being alive.
***
Tae Woon’s voice always broke through the worst of nightmares. His crushed, battered mind slowly began to stir. The hazy blur clouding his vision cleared little by little.
[Death and Beauty cries out your name in desperation.]
[Death and Beauty proclaims your god is here.]
[Death and Beauty—]
“Sibaek! Sibaek! Wake up!”
Biendeoé’s voice rang out over the swirl of Divine Words and the burning drain of divine power. She shouted, frantic, uncaring of the cost. And in front of him stood a broad back, shielding him. The scent of blood was growing.
“Ghh…”
Tae Woon bit down a groan and thrust his hand forward. The moment it touched the man who had stabbed him in the side, he slammed him into the ground.
BOOM! The earth shook from the impact. The man—wearing the illusion of Sibaek’s brother—collapsed without a scream, knocked out cold.
“Woonie!”
The chaos of people screaming and monsters howling snapped his senses back into place. In that instant, Kim Sibaek assessed the situation. Monsters had appeared out of nowhere, and amidst the confusion, someone had struck at his deepest vulnerability. And Tae Woon had taken that hit for him.
He yanked the dagger out and rushed to heal the wound with divine power. But as soon as the bleeding stopped, Tae Woon grabbed his wrist to stop him.
“I’m okay. Even if your reserves got refilled, they won’t last. Save it.”
“You need real treatment first!”
“The bleeding’s stopped. I’ll get patched up after the fight.”
Tae Woon then gestured with his eyes toward the fire-shaped monsters. His injury wasn’t critical, and neutralizing the monsters was a priority—it was a reasonable call. Not that Kim Sibaek had ever made many reasonable decisions when it came to Tae Woon.
Still, when Tae Woon got like this, he always managed to slip away before getting treated. Sighing, Sibaek pulled his hand back.
[Death and Beauty practically clings to you in tears.]
“I’m sorry.”
He gently stroked Biendeoé’s small body as she flitted to his shoulder, her wings fluttering. He already knew who had attacked him. It was Na Jungwoo, a Hunter from the 7777 Guild—someone he’d sparred with just a few days ago.
“…I saw a vision of my brother.”
“Ah…”
Tae Woon trailed off, nodding slowly.
“No wonder you looked so out of it.”
“Does Hunter Na Jungwoo have any Traits related to illusions?”
“Hmm… not that I know of.”
Kim Sibaek rubbed his face with a rough hand. He couldn’t understand it. Na Jungwoo didn’t have any known Traits that could induce illusions—so how had he struck so precisely at his most vulnerable weakness? Unless… he’d been hiding one all along.
His mind swirled with possibilities, but there was no time to dig deeper. He let out a slow breath and pulled his hand away.
“Hyung.”
His heart was still pounding, the echo of the illusion lingering deep in his chest. But once he confirmed Tae Woon’s presence beside him, the tremors faded into calm. He had always tried to live a life he wasn’t ashamed of—so that Tae Woon would never be burdened by guilt for knowing him. That’s why, as long as Tae Woon called his name, Kim Sibaek had to stand tall, unwavering.
“I’ll go ahead. You finish up here and catch up.”
“You sure you’re okay? That stab wound wasn’t shallow.”
“Wanna stab me again and find out?”
“…If I touch you, are you just gonna make weird noises again?”
“Busted.”
Tae Woon’s sharp, foxlike eyes curved into a sly grin. It was a totally inappropriate joke for the situation—but it was just so him that Sibaek let out a short laugh despite himself.
“If it starts bleeding again, you’d better tell me.”
As soon as Kim Sibaek’s figure disappeared from view, Tae Woon’s smile vanished like a mask being peeled away. His face hardened in an instant. He pressed his fingers against the wound in his side so hard they turned pale.
Blocking with his body—how stupid could he be?
The moment he saw Na Jungwoo going for the defenseless Sibaek, everything else vanished. Logically, it would’ve made far more sense to subdue him using his abilities. It would’ve been quicker, more efficient. But the instant Sibaek was in danger, all reason left his mind.
In all the battles he’d fought, all the near-death experiences he’d survived, he had never once done anything this impulsive—or this idiotic. And that unsettled him deeply.
To make things worse, the dagger had been laced with poison. Na Jungwoo usually considered poison a tool for the weak—he never used it.
Nothing about this made sense.
Tae Woon narrowed his eyes, studying the unconscious Na Jungwoo from head to toe.
Where the hell had he come from? This wasn’t planned. Na Jungwoo had never shown signs of going rogue before—no impulsive behavior, no sudden Trait awakenings. Was this some kind of butterfly effect caused by Kim Sibaek’s presence?
“……”
He briefly considered eliminating the unknown variable on the spot. But for now, he decided to keep him alive and dig into the circumstances. Which meant he had to store him somewhere until the battle was over.
If the guy regained consciousness, there was a high chance he’d try to escape. The safest option would be to sever all four limbs—but without proper medical gear, that would be a death sentence. Tae Woon compromised and cut the tendons in both legs.
Now he needed a place to stash him.
He scanned the area. Pi Minhyung would’ve made sure his kids had some kind of defensive magitech. Tae Woon ignored the chaos tearing through the amusement park and instead followed the flow of mana. There—he spotted it. A barrier device, not powered by a manastone, but infused with Pi Minhyung’s own mana.
Dragging the now-crippled Na Jungwoo by the scruff, Tae Woon sprinted toward it. The kids were hiding behind a café. The barrier was large—built for ten people—and a few others had already taken shelter there.
“Uncle!”
Pi Seo-yeon, clinging to her brother Pi Seo-jun and trembling, brightened at the sight of him. She was hugging the dinosaur headband their father had bought for her before lunch. Her eyes welled up as if tears might spill any second, but she bit her lip and wiped them away with the back of her hand.
Tae Woon checked the barrier’s mana level. Including the two kids, nine people were already inside.
“There’s one spot left. Keep him in here.”
“Is he a Hunter who got hurt in the fight?”
“No. He’s a bad guy.”
At the word bad guy, the people inside the barrier stiffened. Tae Woon didn’t react. He simply shoved Na Jungwoo to the far edge of the space and turned to leave—but a small voice stopped him.
“Uncle… don’t get hurt…”
“……”
With the barrier full, no one else could enter. Tae Woon reached toward the shield—not to touch her, but to tap gently on the transparent panel above Seo-yeon’s head. Only then did a faint smile break through her fear.
Seo-yeon and Seo-jun weren’t Awakeners. They were just ordinary children. But they were Pi Minhyung’s last remaining anchor—his final reason not to break. They had to survive.
“…I’ll bring your dad back, in one piece. So stay here and don’t worry.”
Tae Woon didn’t realize that the phrase in one piece might have sounded a little scary to the kids. As he turned away, he suddenly stopped, clutching his mouth. A deep cough surged up from his core. When he looked down, his palm was smeared with blood—dark, thick, and tinged with poison.
