By Zephyria 
For a while, he stood there as if nailed to the spot. Loathsome as it was, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pile of clothes mimicking a human.
Once he regained his senses, all sorts of thoughts flooded in. Why did he leave? Because he was told to try turning into an Aberrant?
Because he didn’t smile when told to? Because he kept glaring and scolding? Because he had been grinding his teeth from time to time ever since Cheong was mentioned?
There were more than enough reasons to leave, but he still couldn’t understand. More than anything else, Joo-oh loved being with him.
Jin Mu-hae and food. He had strained himself to provide the best possible conditions, so why? To see whom? Had he gone to meet Cheong again?
Even after he had grilled steaks and prepared sides until the smell of meat soaked into his skin?
Crash! A cabinet, kicked suddenly, was dented inward. Contrary to the boiling rage inside him, Mu-hae’s face was as cold as if frost were forming on it.
He grabbed the mattress and flipped it over. A few tinkle friends figures rolled across the floor with a clattering sound.
There was no note left behind, nor any significant clue. He noticed belatedly that the area by the window, covered in adhesive film, was slightly dirty.
It was a sign that the window, stiff from being shut for too long, had been forced open and closed. He immediately stepped out the front door and scanned the direction of the window, but not even a single mouse was in sight.
His heart beat anxiously, but he managed to calm himself. He wouldn’t have gone to that blue-headed bastard. No matter how oblivious he was, he wasn’t the type to bolt all the way to Sakdal to eat a feast provided by that prick instead of a meal Mu-hae had cooked himself.
Right. He might have gone to the grocery store. He felt like he hadn’t seen any candy or chocolate wrappers for a while. He probably ran out of snacks and tried to buy some in secret.
Even as he thought this, an ominous assumption coiled within him and refused to vanish. Mu-hae rotated his wrists to loosen them and quickened his pace.
Only after arriving at his destination at a speed that blurred the line between walking and running did he realize the identity of the unpleasantness making his stomach churn.
“Fuck.”
He wasn’t there. Neither at the grocery store nor the restaurants was there even a glimpse of Joo-oh. The next place the brat would likely go was the Jaegang District.
A chilling thought flashed through his mind. The clue he had barely managed to obtain while wandering the slums. Had Joo-oh perhaps deciphered the code contained within it?
If he had headed to that place alone, if he had set the halted Return flight in motion again…
His heart began to thud loudly once more. It could have just been a short walk, but his rationality vanished like never before.
Amidst these uncharacteristic physical reactions, Jin Mu-hae vaguely realized.
He was afraid. He was terrified that the other might disappear. That was why he had been so groundlessly anxious.
Because a being who could neither be stopped by force nor completely imprisoned had accepted his own evaporation with indifference.
That was what it meant for Joo-oh to know the purpose of the Return flight. Unconsciously, the bag of snacks in his hand burst with a pop.
‘Maybe he’s already been here.’
His shrunken sanity sent a sign of hope, like a final flare of light before death. Without even thinking of picking up the falling crumbs, Mu-hae brushed his Link Watch against the checkout counter and dashed out.
When he returned home, Joo-oh would be sitting alone in the study. He would swallow the snacks in his mouth, pretending to know nothing, and play the annoying part of being innocent.
If he babbled about being hungry or wanting meat, Mu-hae would smack the back of his head once and then feed him to his heart’s content. But the house he entered after those vows was still silent and empty.
Crash!
The study door he kicked flew off its hinges. The mirror near the entrance also shattered into pieces with a single punch.
Blood flowed from the cuts on his hand, but he was so enraged he didn’t even feel the pain. Without even taking off his shoes, Mu-hae strode into the living room.
He wasn’t there. Only the half-mashed potatoes remained, still holding their warmth. He raised his wrist to send a message asking where he had vanished to, only to realize that Joo-oh’s Link Watch was shoved inside a drawer.
Clang! Crash!
Under his violent touch, the tableware fell, and the bowl of potatoes splattered across the floor.
How do I find him? Where should I go to stop Joo-oh before he does something strange?
With cold fingertips, he brought up the document. It was the allegory found in the attic of the abandoned building.
Yeon. Yeol. Gil. Neul. Oh. Il. Each character appeared in varying frequencies within a set range from one to twelve, but their positions were all different.
‘Yeon’ appeared five times. Three of those were in the first sentence of the first paragraph. ‘Neul’ appeared only once, but it was in the third sentence of the part that negatively hinted at the function of the Starpath among the documents obtained early on.
‘Il’ appeared damn everywhere. Sometimes it appeared in the very last sentence; if he took an average, it would be closer to the latter half.
And ‘Gil’ was…
The rule that had remained invisible despite all his agonizing now unfolded before Mu-hae’s eyes like a map. Like constellations connecting, the associations between the characters linked one by one.
Jin Mu-hae mentally calculated the positions and numbers of dozens of characters, gauging the order of the six glowing letters.
Yeon, Neul, Gil, ?, Yeol, ?.
‘Yeonneul Path.’
He immediately searched the map of Goryeo City. No such place name appeared.
Fortunately, he had built up some connections leading up to this day. Knowing that the other would likely be fast asleep at this hour, Mu-hae contacted Hwang-jae without hesitation.
[Yeonneul Path. Is this address in central?]
[Or is there a similar neighborhood near the waste collection area?]
[Even if it doesn’t go as far as the residential area, isn’t there some distinction?]
He fired off a barrage of messages, but naturally, no reply came. He felt sorry, but he would have to wake him up to ask.
Just as he cleared his throat and began entering the contact information.
Ssh, thud.
“…?”
He felt a presence at the door. Was it Joo-oh? Had he returned? He whipped his head around and glared, only to see the toes of an unexpected person.
“The door is open.”
“…What are you doing here.”
It was Teacher Jung. The man, with a grave expression, entered while scanning the surroundings.
The broken mirror, the scattered and smashed furniture. Blood splattered here and there, and Jin Mu-hae with eyes as piercing as a beast’s.
Peeking out from behind him was the very brat he had been searching for, Joo-oh.
The moment their eyes met, the brat immediately hid behind Teacher Jung again.
“What is this mess?”
“Right? I told you Jin Mu-hae is weird.”
Had he not left the house…? Had he not departed alone for the next destination indicated by the clues of the Return flight and the Big Shot?
Why did he bring Teacher Jung? More importantly, why was the gaze looking at him so bewildered?
The moment he saw that face—not just fine, but healthy—the anxiety that felt like it was crushing his sternum stopped. Belatedly, Mu-hae noticed the mirror-like disaster he had created with his own hands.
He slowly surveyed the ruined dining table, the sink, the floor, and his own fist. He didn’t know how he had ended up doing this, but the scene looked as if a madman had run rampant.
“Jin Mu-hae is bleeding.”
“Don’t go near him. Why don’t you step aside for a moment? In the study, perhaps.”
“…Okay. But the study door is broken too.”
The brat, who usually never listened to anyone, moved like a docile lamb at a single stern word from Teacher Jung.
In the suffocatingly quiet atmosphere, Teacher Jung slowly approached.
“Hand.”
“…”
“The bleeding has stopped. Then, let’s talk.”
“Jin Mu-hae needs to apply medicine.”
“That comes later.”
Waving Joo-oh away entirely, Teacher Jung found an intact cup and brought some water. He pulled over a fallen dining chair, took a seat, and quietly gazed at Mu-hae.
“Drink this first.”
A blunt yet sharp gaze gleamed beneath the glasses. Only after his heated head cooled down did he realize the situation was subtle, but Joo-oh had already avoided his gaze and retreated into the room.
“This is quite an unfamiliar situation.”
“…”
“Since you grew up so well on your own.”
“It’s not like that.”
“If you say so.”
His voice was cut off by a simple rebuttal. Teacher Jung’s gaze scanned the same spot again. Where his eyes finally rested was the blood-stained hand.
“I’ve heard roughly.”
“Heard what?”
“That you locked the house and wouldn’t let him out.”
“…”
“That you wouldn’t let him talk to other people, and you took his Link Watch. What else was there?”
“There was a reason for all of that…”
There was a reason. It wasn’t the kind of dangerous situation you think it is. He started to explain but hesitated.
Damn it. Of all times, they had to barge in while he had smashed the house; no matter what he said, it would sound like a pathetic excuse.
It was true he had confined Joo-oh. But he had never done anything as heinous or vile as Teacher Jung was likely imagining.
“Did Joo-oh say that?”
“And what if he did?”
“What would happen? I was just asking.”
How could he convey that regardless of what that brat said, he shouldn’t take it at face value?
That he wasn’t angry at Joo-oh, that he had simply been startled himself.
If he had simply left the house, he could have just found him and brought him back as before. Even if he wandered as an Aberrant, wouldn’t he be alive somewhere, watching him?
But if he were to face his end along with the conclusion of the Return flight, there would be no way to help.
“Did you know?”
Mu-hae asked, rubbing his stinging hand on his trousers. It was a question that had popped out almost reflexively.
He didn’t even know what he was asking. Now that he thought about it, there were one or two things he could demand to know if the man had been aware.
“The Starpath. Did you know there was a problem with it?”
“A problem… well. I don’t know if there was a secret significant enough to cause this much chaos.”
“Then Joo-oh. That brat.”
It had been a long time since he had been this agitated, so his words didn’t come out coherently. Only after a long deep breath did Mu-hae finally spit out the remaining business.
“You must have already known that he isn’t a normal human.”
Teacher Jung’s eyes widened slightly. Indeed, having plucked someone else’s hair and researched blood, he must have realized long ago that there was something different about Joo-oh.
However, as if unable to find the connection between the two questions, he looked puzzled, then suddenly showed a look of shock, his pupils dilating sharply.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
Teacher Jung’s gaze became strange, as if he had just heard the plot of a failed sci-fi movie.
247 – I Became an Anomaly in a Dead Game