By Zephyria 
The beings of the mak slecht were erased from the videos, and the barrier that had blocked the kun swarm was changed so that it remained maintained even in Kim Si-baek’s absence.
It wasn’t just the records of the kun raid that vanished. The photos and videos uploaded to the 7777 Guild’s official account, the photos of people playfully praying toward Biyendwe perched atop the Christmas tree, the internet posts rambling about baby crows and the power of faith, the records of mages who had been immersed in ecstasy upon receiving new magic formulas—from all of these, from people’s memories, and even from the mind of Lee Han-gyeol, who had become the first believer, they were all, all erased.
Just like the moment Kim Si-baek had fallen into the rift and vanished from Earth.
He let out a bitter smile as he put down his phone, the screen remaining unchanged no matter how many times he checked.
‘I thought at least people’s memories would remain…’
Even if he had known this fact in advance, his resolve wouldn’t have changed, but the unexpected turn of events still shocked him. At the same time, a chill ran down his spine, leaving him shuddering.
If the shock he felt in such a short time was this great, what must it have been like for Tae-un, who had to endure that long time alone? Whenever that thought occurred to him, his chest felt heavy again, as if a lump of iron had been placed upon it.
“Hyung…”
Had it not been for the sleepy voice of the child emerging from the bedroom, he would have continued to chew on those bitter thoughts indefinitely. Kim Si-baek gestured gently.
“Are you awake already? You woke up early today.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Tae-un, whose need for sleep had increased significantly since becoming a child, yawned and snuggled into Kim Si-baek. It was simply adorable to see the sleeves of the pajamas—bought in a generous size in the belief that he would grow quickly—covering his palms. His sunken mood lifted, and a faint smile escaped.
Kim Si-baek pinched and poked the flushed cheeks of the child, who couldn’t even open his eyes properly. The cheeks, plumped up thanks to the effort of feeding him well, felt pleasantly springy. In truth, it was an extremely abnormal rate of growth. At this rate, it wouldn’t be impossible for Tae-un to become an adult within the year.
“Were you thinking about the crow?”
“…How did you know?”
“Just because. That’s the only thing that makes Hyung’s mood drop these days…”
Even while half-asleep, Tae-un had keenly grasped his mood. To ensure the child didn’t fall into guilt, Kim Si-baek hugged him tightly.
“It’s okay, because you’re sharing the memories with me. Well, in a way, isn’t this a smooth resolution? Otherwise, Section Chief Gwak would have suffered immensely trying to explain the sudden disappearance of people all at once.”
Kim Si-baek spoke in a deliberately light tone, patting the bottom of the child who had buried his face in his chest.
“So go wash up. Let’s have breakfast.”
Since he couldn’t feed a growing child only delivery food, Kim Si-baek had made a big decision. The once-empty kitchen was now filled with cooking utensils, and the refrigerator now showed ingredients first instead of water bottles when the door opened.
By following recipes exactly without the arrogance of trying to create his own “unique taste,” he managed to produce food that was reasonably edible for humans. Though he could never call it “delicious.”
Kim Si-baek flipped through a cookbook he had recently purchased. Normally, Biyendwe would have scolded him while pulling up a recipe on a tablet, but…
‘No. Let’s stop thinking like that.’
The voice of the baby crow, boasting about whether he couldn’t even perform a search, faded into a distant memory.
The menu chosen for breakfast today was vegetable fried rice and the leftover beef radish soup from the day before yesterday. After washing up, Tae-un clumsily put on a child’s apron and stood proudly on a footstool. The sound of a child’s kitchen knife tapping rhythmically against the cutting board echoed as he held it in his tiny, fern-like hands. The sight of the little one slicing carrots with a serious expression, even furrowing his brows, was enough to wash away the turmoil in Kim Si-baek’s heart.
“Un-ah, wait. Wait a second.”
Making him stop chopping for a moment, Kim Si-baek quickly grabbed his phone and opened the camera app.
“You can do it now.”
The child, positioned beautifully within the recording screen, looked into the lens with a soft smile before resuming the carrot slicing. He did so with much more precise and consistent sizing than Kim Si-baek, who was still clumsy with the knife.
That adorable sight was captured perfectly on the phone. It had been worth the effort of learning diligently from Lee Han-gyeol, who had begged him to take photos and videos.
“I wonder if it’s okay for a child to be better at knife work than his hyung.”
“It’s because I’m trying to make sure Hyung eats a balanced diet without being a picky eater.”
“Mm-hmm. Is that something a five-year-old, who is practically like a child to me, should be saying?”
“I think I’m six now. Besides, at Hyung’s age, a five-year-old isn’t a child, but a great-great-grandchild, isn’t he?”
“….”
Since it had been a while since he’d heard such a blow, Kim Si-baek silently pinched his cheek. Just a little, so that no red mark would remain. He couldn’t bring himself to grab and stretch that soft child’s cheek as he had in the past.
And so, the meal was deliciously prepared today as well. There was also steamed eggs on the table. It wasn’t just eggs and soy sauce mixed and microwaved as he had done before, but a dish of conviction.
Tae-un took the first spoonful of the steamed eggs with a tiny fork-spoon, and Kim Si-baek waited for the tasting review with a fluttering heart.
“How does it taste? Is it cooked well?”
Tae-un chewed with his small lips and swallowed the steamed eggs.
“It’s a bit bland.”
“Really? I’ll try adding salted shrimp next time.”
“They say eating bland food is better for the body. I think it’s delicious as it is.”
Kim Si-baek did not know what the meaning of this “delicious” sentiment was, delivered with a shy smile and a casual tone. Whether it was a dish where the seasoning was messed up, a dish slightly burnt from a grilling mistake, or a dish that was chewy because it was undercooked, Tae-un found it delicious. He could taste it.
The ability to taste. The ability to see clearly. Kim Si-baek would never know the meaning of all those things, and Tae-un would never tell him. It was merely a remnant of a past that he didn’t need to know. There was no need to sharply stimulate his pain any longer.
For Tae-un, it was enough to simply enjoy a complete time, eating “delicious” food by his side.
✽ ✽ ✽
Even after the magical beasts remaining in Seoul were wiped out, the entire country was in an uproar due to city restoration plans and other matters, and Tae-un felt a familiar sense of anxiety. He unconsciously began to think of efficient ways to stabilize the country.
Further regression is impossible. Even if a mistake is made or an unexpected variable occurs, it cannot be undone, so from the beginning…
But before his worries could reach a conclusion, Kim Si-baek chuckled and ruffled his hair.
“You don’t need to worry that far.”
“But if the political situation becomes chaotic…”
“Speaking from experience, as long as people don’t completely lose hope and will, the world somehow keeps turning.”
Bending his waist, Kim Si-baek looked into the eyes of Tae-un, who was still far below him, and smiled brightly.
“You don’t have to take responsibility for everything alone anymore.”
Tae-un blinked blankly. He needed a moment to fully comprehend Kim Si-baek’s words.
…Is that so? Is there no need to refine the variables that pop up while repeating regressions over and over to create a world where Si-baek hyung doesn’t suffer?
He felt the pressure, which had been engraved like a core essence, melt away at that single sentence. As if knowing the heart of the child who had frozen into an expressionless state, unable to either smile or grimace, Kim Si-baek patted his cheek.
“Think of it as a sabbatical year, like Eun-ho said. Since it’s a long-awaited long vacation, what do you want to do?”
Tae-un unconsciously fidgeted with his fingers. It wasn’t just any vacation, but a vacation spent with Kim Si-baek. Not a short break of a few days like when Kim Si-baek was a police officer, but a long rest with a sabbatical stamp firmly pressed upon it. He could do anything he wanted to do with him.
Many things came to mind, but for a vacation that utilized his current young body, it had to be that.
“I want to go to the amusement park with Hyung.”
This time, he would definitely not be stopped by height or weight restrictions and would play to his heart’s content with him. Just the two of them, without any intruders.
Regrettably, Tae-un’s ambition was only half-achieved.
〈Oh, come to think of it, I’ve decided to go to the amusement park with Un next Wednesday. Since both of us are free, it’s great that we can make time on a weekday when there are fewer people.〉
Kim Si-baek had let the words slip unconsciously. Because of that, he ended up with intruders: a father who was always struggling and in need of external help while raising siblings alone, and a picture book author who was envisioning the setting of her next work as an amusement park.
“Crazy, crazy! Are you really Tae-un? This is insane! Insane!”
The one who could only spit out the cheap exclamation “insane,” unlike a picture book author who gives dreams and hope to children, was Yang Yura, who was from the Somang Orphanage and was also Yang Eun-ho’s wife.
“8 years old? 9 years old? Around there? I thought Eun-ho was talking nonsense because he was stressed out by you, but wow… Tae-un, do you know who this auntie is?”