By Zephyria 
“Did Tae-un oppa force you to believe in the Crow Cult?”
As Seo Gae-un spoke, her eyes were fixed on Lee Han-gyeol’s phone keyring. It was a piece of Tae-un merchandise officially produced by the 7777 Guild, which Lee Han-gyeol had acquired to satisfy his own desires.
Normally, it would be cringeworthy for a youngest sibling to be a fanboy of their own brother or sister, but these children were different. In a hellish world where children in their early teens saw corpses every day—and sometimes killed them personally—they needed an emotional anchor to survive with their humanity intact. For Lee Han-gyeol, that anchor was Tae-un.
〈Anything is fine. Carve into your heart the value you believe is most important. Just by cherishing it and not betraying it, you will find the strength to live through tomorrow.〉
After Tae-un’s advice, the children had pondered, or perhaps instinctively, each embraced a single thing.
For Pi Min-hyeong, it was the two children who had become his comrades and family. For Seo Gae-un, it was her own will to save others without turning away. For Yang Eun-ho, it was the well-being of the 7777 Guild, following the shelter at Jaewoo University where his wife, Yang Yura, was. For Lee Han-gyeol, it was a faith in Tae-un that bordered on worship.
〈What is your value, Oppa?〉
〈I am 7777.〉
The meaning of those numbers only became partially clear after Tae-un established a guild of the same name. He didn’t know the full meaning, but it didn’t matter. Whatever it was, Tae-un must have been able to endure without committing suicide or going mad because of that ‘one thing’ he held in his heart.
“That’s why, Lee Han-gyeol, we would have understood if you had started a Tae-un Cult instead.”
“I actually wanted to, but…”
“But a pseudo-religion is a different story.”
“Right, Han-gyeol. Even I think your mentor is a bit… cringey, but still, no pseudo-religions. Is something bothering you lately?”
“You saw Tae-un crush that pseudo-cult leader last time, didn’t you?”
“Ugh.”
The three of them remained serious, but feeling that he had been intimidated for nothing, Lee Han-gyeol set the paring knife back down on the tray.
“But forcing a pseudo-religion… just what do you take Brother Tae-un for?”
“A crazy guy who fell in love at that age and acted out so much he could have made the Crow Cult the national religion of our country.”
“….”
Unable to deny Pi Min-hyeong’s conclusion, Lee Han-gyeol asked again with a sour expression.
“So, Noona and Hyungs, you wouldn’t believe in the Crow even if Brother Tae-un told you to?”
The three of them subtly avoided his gaze. Lee Han-gyeol narrowed his eyes and glared. Look at that, they’d probably become pseudo-believers too, yet they’re acting like this toward me.
Still, knowing they had kidnapped him out of worry, his expression soon softened. Because of Seo Gae-un’s rigid use of formal language, the younger siblings below her couldn’t speak casually to her, leading some outsiders to whisper that they only pretended to be close. But they were each other’s true family. A real family for Lee Han-gyeol, who had lived under the oppressive gaze of relatives after his parents died in an accident.
‘I want to tell them the truth, but…’
He didn’t want to keep secrets, but there was Kim Si-baek’s request. Unless they came to believe in Biyendwe as he did, he didn’t want to cause unnecessary confusion or force the truth upon them.
Lee Han-gyeol used the same excuse he had given to the mages of the research department, including the head of research.
“That crow knows a bit about magic. Maybe that’s why things seem to go better if I pray before doing magic experiments? Plus, he has mysterious powers like Brother’s healing power, so in many ways, the conditions are great for a ‘prayer meta’…”
It was true to some extent. The research department, which understood Kim Si-baek’s abilities—which functioned differently from magical power—more deeply than general hunters, was currently in a trend of praying to Biyendwe, half-seriously and half-jokingly.
“And the crow really understands human speech. You’ll see if you try talking to it later.”
“…Is that so?”
The three of them had subtle expressions, but they seemed reasonably convinced. Feeling a prick of conscience for deceiving them, Lee Han-gyeol honestly confessed another doubt.
“Speaking of Brother, is it really true that he never came to our orphanage to volunteer or anything in the past?”
“Why all of a sudden?”
“Because lately, I’ve been having some strange imaginations.”
Lee Han-gyeol scratched the back of his neck and let out a vague statement he couldn’t be sure of himself.
“Back when I lived at the orphanage, I sometimes feel like I used to hang out and play with Brother.”
Not every country was able to overcome the chaos caused by the Great Cataclysm. There were many nations that barely maintained the form of a state, unable to guarantee national stability as government control collapsed or hunters leaked abroad. In countries where most of the territory had become ‘fields,’ they found a way to survive by creating new economic value by providing hunting grounds to foreign nations.
North Korea was one such country.
North Korea already had a low population density. After the Great Cataclysm, a significant number of people, including hunters, defected. China was fragmented following the explosion incident at the Great Hall of the People, and Russia was embroiled in a civil war, making it difficult to receive help. It was a natural conclusion for the land, except for a few major cities, to be turned into fields.
North Korea reached out to South Korea, which had recovered from the chaos of the Great Cataclysm as quickly as the ‘Miracle on the Han River.’ Consequently, South Korea became the country that dispatched the most hunters to the hunting grounds of the North Korean fields.
The relationship between North and South Korea, which had become economically and physically closer than in the past, accelerated after the current head of state took office.
“He was originally the fifth-highest ranking official in the North Korean regime. He ended up in that position by accident because the four people above him were wiped out in a single terror attack. In our terms, it’s like the Minister of Foreign Affairs suddenly becoming the President.”
He deeply understood that his own neck was in danger under the current North Korean system, which forced the maintenance of a dictatorship. In fact, not a single head of state had died in bed since the Great Cataclysm.
“Since he was a man who lived moderately—enjoying a moderate amount of power, sucking up moderate benefits, and indulging in moderate luxury—he was very good at knowing his place.”
Kim Si-baek was impressed by Tae-un’s concise summary. If this kid had gone into education—like a star lecturer—he would have been sitting on a pile of money.
Having set his ultimate goal as retiring safely with bags of money to enjoy a comfortable old age, the North Korean head of state began actively sounding out the South Korean government through back-channel lines. It was unification.
“Well, there are North Korean opposition members who criticize it as selling out the country, but they are a minority. Since they are practically economically dependent, most think that what was bound to happen has happened.”
“It would be better to live safely outside the barrier than to spend your life staring at magical beasts right in front of the field.”
Kim Si-baek grinned like a professor looking at a clever student—or rather, a prospective graduate student—who understood the subtext of what Tae-un hadn’t explicitly taught.
“That’s why South Korea is only paying lip service to supporting the construction of barriers outside the cities or the purification of magical energy.”
As Tae-un’s excellent summary of the current state of inter-Korean relations ended, the car reached Cheongju Airport. Following the limousine buses carrying the 7777 Guild hunters, buses from other guilds gathered for hunting in the fields south of Kaesong arrived one after another.
“To think there’s a direct flight from South Korea to North Korea…”
For Kim Si-baek, whose knowledge of North Korea hadn’t been updated since the early 2000s, it was a truly surprising sight. Biyendwe, who couldn’t empathize with his apostle’s Korean DNA, simply yawned from the crown of his head as usual.
“Once Seoul is reclaimed, the severed trains and roads will be connected too.”
“In my day, the only thing was the Mt. Kumgang tour.”
“You’ve never been to Mt. Kumgang either, right, Hyung? Even if you call it Mt. Kumgang, these days it’s just a field where you only see magical beasts.”
“Then…”
Kim Si-baek, about to ask, ‘Then do you want to go hunting together later?’, flinched and bit his lip. Together. That word felt like a whisper from his heart, hoping that he could remain by Tae-un’s side in the future.
He pressed his forehead into Tae-un’s shoulder so that his face wouldn’t be seen.
“Hyung? What’s wrong all of a sudden?”
Though puzzled, Tae-un reached out and stroked Kim Si-baek’s back. Buried in a temperature that was invariably cool yet imbued with purity, Kim Si-baek bit his lower lip firmly. The future time, where a parting was foretold, felt too overwhelming.
〈I’m used to it.〉
〈Could you give me just one fragment of your long life?〉
The pain of the child who endured it habitually, claiming he didn’t even need help, and the desperation of the child who asserted a future severance and craved only a single fragment—these memories flowed into him incessantly. How would the child, left alone in the future after he disappeared, live?
And how would he, who had come to know the child he hadn’t known for a very long time, live?
Was there no way to avoid parting with Tae-un and not have to throw away his entire life in mak slecht?