By Zephyria 
Ah.
Kim Si-baek’s eyes widened slightly. Come to think of it, he had been so frazzled at the time and so overjoyed to see Tae-un that he had completely forgotten. How did Tae-un know he had returned to Earth and come immediately?
Tae-un’s answer to that was typical. Meaning, he was as cold and rude as ever.
“Section Chief Gwak would know about that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Section Chief Gwak, you’d better tell the hunters at the Invitation Bureau to keep their mouths shut.”
Gwak Yun-sang sighed and covered his face. It seemed a team member had blabbed despite the gag order placed on the incident. Whoever it was, once found, they would be made an example of in the training center. Of course, Director Noh was also determined to chew out Gwak Yun-sang for failing to control his subordinates once they returned.
Once the necessary matters were roughly settled, Director Noh freshly erased the memory of witnessing several unsightly scenes and bowed his head to Kim Si-baek.
“This is a late greeting, but you are very welcome back to Korea.”
That greeting, which might have touched someone’s heart with warmth, instead passed through Kim Si-baek with a bitter taste.
“What do you intend to do moving forward? Will you be affiliating yourself with the Seven Guild?”
“Ah, before that, there is something I would like to ask the Director’s understanding of.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Bae Jihan:
Ajusshi, this is the AAA Challenge I filmed with the kids at school lol
Although the ‘Stepfather Project’ had failed, Bae Jihan did not give up and continued to keep in touch. He was a truly sociable child, being so friendly even toward a man older than his own mother.
What Bae Jihan had sent was a video of three male students in school uniforms, including himself, dancing. Seeing them so excited among themselves was quite cute. Indeed, in any world, children should grow up smiling.
Furthermore, the video itself was short but left a strong impression, and the background music was addictive. The kids danced well, too.
What was this called again? A singer? A group? Ah, right. An idol.
You look like idols^^ Did you come up with the choreography yourselves?
He attached a moving picture emoticon that Tae-un had bought for him. Unlike his own slow typing, Bae Jihan’s replies were so fast that one might wonder if they were using the same keypad.
Bae Jihan:
I told you it’s the AAA Challenge lol Ajusshi, you’re such a boomer lol
Challenge? What were they challenging? It seemed this word was also being used in an expanded sense beyond its dictionary definition, and he couldn’t quite grasp the nuance.
“Do you know how ‘challenge’ is used on the internet?”
He looked around, thinking Biyendwe—who was showing slight symptoms of internet addiction—might know, but the black bird was not there. Kim Si-baek realized his mistake a moment too late.
Biyendwe had said this morning that he couldn’t stay clung to him forever and needed to practice spending time away from his apostle. He had a determined expression, like a fledgling preparing to leave the nest.
Finding it admirable and commendable, Kim Si-baek had sent him to the person he expected to be the safest other than himself: Tae-un, who had gone to work on the floor below.
Since there were no other messages via divine utterance, Kim Si-baek assumed he was doing well and searched for what a ‘challenge’ was.
Tae-un’s indifferent gaze cut through the air.
“…….”
“…….”
Silence flowed between the two—or rather, between one human and one avatar. Biyendwe, far from feeling reverence toward the god, felt a slight regret for coming, facing a black gaze that looked at him as if he were a pebble or a piece of wood. How could a person change so much just by the presence or absence of Kim Si-baek?
Tae-un’s black eyes, which laid bare his inner thoughts like an idiot in front of Kim Si-baek, were now void of meaning. Those black pupils felt as if they would endlessly suck one in like a deep lake, or swallow everything like a swamp of nihilism, or perhaps as if they were neither.
A beautiful doll, once coated in brilliant colors made of delicious honey and sugar on the tongue, now looked like a broken tool, rusted and faded, in Kim Si-baek’s absence.
To this man, a god from another world would be meaningless. Biyendwe realized this clearly. However, now was the only chance to confirm it: the alien energy and eerie sense of déjà vu he had felt from Tae-un.
To verify that, he had braved the fear of being separated from Kim Si-baek and stayed. Above all, it was a choice made because he was certain that Tae-un, who used every trick in the book on Kim Si-baek, would not harm him; but that certainty vanished like a flickering candle upon meeting that emotionless gaze.
‘He’s not a double personality, is he? Or are there two souls inhabiting one body?’
Because the change was so stark, strange hypotheses branched out one after another. Perhaps it was related to the alien feeling he had sensed from Tae-un. Sitting on the office desk, Biyendwe looked up, gauging his mood.
He had first felt this strangeness five days after regaining consciousness, having been exhausted after consuming almost all his divine power. Biyendwe was a young god, and his authority had only grown strong recently after taking Kim Si-baek as his apostle. Having spent much longer in a state of weakness, the young god was sensitive to danger.
He had felt a similar strangeness in the past. It was right after arriving on Earth, when his divine power had run dry and he was at his weakest. At that time, Biyendwe felt a bizarre fear from Tae-un. It was unclear and faint, but it was an alien sensation he couldn’t ignore.
‘Since it’s not certain, if I tell Si-baek, he’ll just worry for nothing…’
Currently, since his divine power was recovering steadily, albeit very weakly, through the connection with mak slecht, ‘now’ was when he was at his weakest. Thus, after agonizing over it for a long time, he had made the big decision to create an opportunity to observe Tae-un up close, but he wasn’t sure if it was the right move. Biyendwe only rolled his eyes.
‘To maintain a physique like that, he must need a lot of calories and nutrients. I wonder if he doesn’t eat snacks?’
If he ate a snack, Tae-un might let his guard down to some extent.
Tae-un, who had been motionless like a carved stone, rose from his chair. At the creaking sound of the chair moving, Biyendwe’s tail feathers twitched violently, but Tae-un didn’t even glance at him and brought an apple from the mini-fridge.
While the sound of peeling the apple echoed through the office for a moment, Tae-un finally spoke.
“Weren’t you originally able to speak? No, were you not?”
Biyendwe didn’t know why the switch to polite speech felt even scarier. Pretending to be calm, Biyendwe replied only with the key points.
“Consumed. Divine power.”
“Then there’s no need to speak; just try nodding your head up and down. You can manage that much, right?”
Though he had given an instruction that was practically a command to a god, the thoroughly intimidated Biyendwe didn’t even feel offended.
“What must be done for Si-baek hyung to recover his divine power sufficiently? Would it not work if I built something like a temple for you?”
What use would a temple be without faith? Biyendwe shook his head.
“I suppose there must be believers who trust you on Earth.”
Tae-un asked as he used the knife to cut the peeled apple into smaller pieces. The blade of the paring knife gleamed white.
The extremely ordinary daily scene of peeling and cutting an apple became an inexplicable chill that seemed to tighten around his feathers as it was performed by his hand. The legs supporting his lush feathers and plump backside began to tremble slightly.
“Is your presence indispensable?”
Tae-un’s gaze did not even turn toward Biyendwe as he asked the question. He merely moved the paring knife with a rhythmic scritch-scratch, looking down at the small black crow reflected in the white blade.
When Biyendwe finally managed to nod with a stiff face, Tae-un let out a “Hmm,” and moved the paring knife with his fingertips. The white blade, slightly stained with apple juice, spun around on his black glove. As Biyendwe’s neck instinctively shrank back from the whirling blade, Tae-un pushed the plate of sliced apples forward.
“Eat.”
Unable to say he wouldn’t eat, Biyendwe tentatively pecked at a piece with his beak. It was delicious. The sweet scent of apple reached him a moment later.
Tae-un tidied up the apple peels and the paring knife, moving them to the corner of the desk. Then, as if uninterested, he leaned back in his chair and cast his gaze out the window. Biyendwe, who had been gauging his mood, finally felt a bit relieved and ate the apple.
In the window where Tae-un cast his indifferent gaze, the faint reflection of the baby crow was visible. The young god, who continued to peck at the apple pieces while stealthily checking the atmosphere, seemed relieved that Tae-un’s attention had shifted.
However, he would not know. The fact that another existence was watching him.