By Zephyria 
He had seriously considered doing so. Treating Kim Si-baek heartlessly, acting cold as if he were a complete stranger with no shared past… Damn it, there was no way that was possible. He could pull off any other act with ease, but he could never pretend not to know Kim Si-baek. If he were to erase Kim Si-baek from his life, the remaining pieces would not even be fragments, but would scatter as insignificant, trivial crumbs.
Despite losing Kim Si-baek, repeating death, and being crushed by endless time, the single hottest, reddest drop of blood in the heart that held him was the only thing that remained unchanged. This final drop was also the only thing keeping Tae-un human.
He was supposed to die by Kim Si-baek’s hand before that last drop was consumed by magical energy and he became a complete monster. He had hoped that through death, he could carve that single drop of blood into the other’s soul.
That was how it was supposed to be.
“Un-ah, don’t lie to me.”
That unwavering gaze proved that Kim Si-baek was the absolute variable for Tae-un, who had been preparing for his own death.
✽ ✽ ✽
“…What do you mean, lying?”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
Tae-un feigned a sneer to hide his agitation.
“How can you be so sure, Hyung? You don’t know what I’ve been through since the Great Cataclysm. I’m disillusioned by the raw faces and the depths people reveal. I truly want to tear this kind of world apart.”
Kim Si-baek did not deny his words, which had become laced with sincerity.
“People can change in two days, let alone twenty-one years. You must have spent twenty-one years that are hard for me to even imagine… No, you said you regressed? Then it must have been longer than twenty-one years. It’s sad, but that is indeed enough time for you to change.”
“Then why say such things?”
Tae-un’s tone didn’t change much, but Kim Si-baek could feel the rising agitation beginning to seep into his voice. Though he didn’t know the reason, Tae-un was anxious.
A question arose after realizing he had been deceived by Tae-un. Why? For what reason?
If one judged objectively, setting aside the shock, Tae-un’s method of using the system and taking several months was incredibly inefficient. It would have been much faster and more certain to kill an apostle whose divine power had not fully recovered.
But what about Tae-un? What about every moment he had spent with him since their reunion? Was all of it a lie? Was there not a single point of truth in the child’s longing toward him?
〈Si-baek Hyung, I really missed you.〉
Must he deny even that call, which contained such desperate longing?
The question, which had been spreading like undulating waves, grew clearer as he listened to the other’s words. It was only natural for Tae-un, who must have endured harsh hardships, to change. Though he didn’t show it in front of him, he likely had no shortage of experience staining his hands with human blood. A land isolated by magical beasts would not have been a forgiving society where a child who had to protect himself could maintain purity until the end.
Nevertheless, Kim Si-baek was certain there was a singular, unchanging quality. It was a certainty he could have only because it was Tae-un and no one else.
“You might lie to me, or you might be putting on a play. There might be other things I haven’t noticed. But, Un-ah.”
“…”
“You would never deceive and use me just for the sake of amusement.”
Even if all of it had been a lie, even if he had been thoroughly played, Tae-un’s desperate longing was true. It was an eternal sincerity that would never be corrupted or melt away.
Just as his own longing had been.
The smile that always lingered around Kim Si-baek vanished in an instant without a trace.
Staring directly into those eyes—eyes that were empty, indifferent, and devoid of emotion, appearing only when directed toward people other than himself—Kim Si-baek calmly continued.
“Besides the fact that you are the Apostle of Chaos, there’s another reason you have to fight me, isn’t there?”
Only after hearing Kim Si-baek’s words did Tae-un consider a ‘what if.’ If he had been honest with Kim Si-baek from the beginning, would there have been another path? If so, could he have faced him in a different way than he was now? What if. What if. What if.
The futile questioning was soon denied. Becoming a monster like the Apostle of Chaos was a future decided when he was five years old. There was no such thing as another path. The fact that he had to die for Kim Si-baek to live remained unchanged. If he didn’t…
The corpse of Lee Han-gyeol flashed through Tae-un’s mind. Following that, the remnants of corpses and the destroyed city wavered. These were things destroyed by his hand. These were the people he had killed. Even though he had already realized it poignantly, a hollow laugh scattered like grains of sand slipping through his fingers.
What if. What if. What if.
That cruel phrase pried open the gap in a heart stained with the madness of rushing toward death and dragged out the five-year-old child trapped in a semi-basement room. The hand he had believed without doubt to be his salvation reached out from beyond the small window. Tae-un hated himself for having grabbed that hand.
A ‘what if’ was truly needed back then. He should not have taken that hand. He should have closed the window so it could never return and died alone, trapped. He should have succumbed to fate and died eternally so that there would be no future where coincidence upon coincidence led Kim Si-baek to come save him again.
For a moment, emotions surged out of control and overflowed. The energy of chaos, carved into the world through the exuviation of an apostle that chaos had painstakingly cultivated for a long time, responded.
“There is no such thing.”
Simultaneously with the numbly falling voice, light and darkness separated before Kim Si-baek’s eyes.
Beyond that, an unfamiliar landscape suddenly overwhelmed Kim Si-baek. It was not a devastated Seoul, but a bustling street where people came and went. As he paused, a group of people walked toward him. Recognizing a particularly tall, handsome man, Kim Si-baek instinctively curled his hand. It was Tae-un.
He looked to be about the same age as he was now, but it was a Tae-un with no scars on his face and no traces of being consumed by magical energy. He wasn’t wearing a monochromatic black suit, but a guild uniform like the others in his party. And his right arm was unnatural, as if it were paralyzed or he was wearing a prosthetic.
Unlike his vision, his hearing was not active, so he couldn’t hear any sound, but it seemed he was chatting with his companions. Right beside him, Lee Han-gyeol was chattering excitedly. He was still blunt and cold toward others, but there were things resembling emotions dwelling on his face.
Just as Kim Si-baek was becoming wary of the sudden vision, the world shifted. Magical energy exploded from Tae-un, who had been talking with his party, and the scene of peaceful daily life ended. At the sight of bright red blood spurting up, Kim Si-baek reflexively took a step forward and then stopped.
It must be a remnant from before the regression, of when Tae-un had destroyed the world. Since they died instantly, the guild members, including Lee Han-gyeol, would have felt no pain. Kim Si-baek silently took in the vision. Even though he knew it wasn’t reality, he had to clench his fists because he reflexively tried to react to the slaughter and destruction.
At the same time, a question arose.
‘Why is he showing me the past?’
The Apostle of Chaos, who slaughtered everything within his sensory reach, had no reason. There was not even a small gap for emotions like boredom or the need for interest to dwell. Kim Si-baek bit his lip with a complicated feeling.
Tae-un, who had lied until the very end, would not show a scene that contradicted his words. If so, whose direction was this?
Furthermore, the Tae-un in this vision was abnormally strong, even for a world where divinity was barely felt. To a degree that the Edokus he had personally experienced could not even be compared.
The world gradually approached its end. Suddenly, a terrible despair cast over the face of the Tae-un who had regained his humanity. Because it felt as if he could hear a scream that tore the soul to shreds, Kim Si-baek covered his face and bowed his head.
He had wondered when he first learned the truth about the regression, but reality is always more cruel than imagination. A silent, unheard despair pressed down on Kim Si-baek. Tae-un, who pretended to be fragile and weak while hiding his true pain until the end, calmly hid and disguised his own despair as well.
What thoughts were you having while you smiled by my side?
When he lifted his head, the vision had vanished, and the old rooftop of the orphanage had returned. Only Tae-un was gone.
“…”
In the place where he had stood, an Id Portal had appeared. An Id Portal that, as soon as it appeared, was rushing toward the brink of mutation.