By Zephyria 
Cloud knew that his own reputation—as a narrow-minded man obsessed only with work and research, oblivious to his surroundings—could be used advantageously in this situation. Despite the absurd excuse of researching magical beasts that appear on land despite having an aquatic appearance, the laboratory granted permission without objection.
The sudden request had bewildered people in Korea, but his reputation and network as a magical beast scholar helped him. Finally, after finalizing the contract via a video chat with a lawyer in the United States, Cloud immediately booked a flight to Pyongyang. Contrary to his original plan, the genetic testing kit remained stored in his bag.
For the past 40 years, Cloud had thought of his older brother, and for 20 years, he had struggled to find him. He had done so while pretending not to notice the worried glances of his family, who saw his obsession as bordering on a delusion.
On one hand, Cloud analyzed his own psychological state with the coldness of an outsider.
The man named Cloud Carter, who once bore the name Kim Si-woon, had an unfortunate childhood. Following his mother’s disappearance and his father’s abuse, he nearly died after becoming entangled in organized crime; he was then adopted by a family that needed a “prop” to show off, only to be returned. Both subjectively and objectively, it was an environment perfectly suited for a child’s emotional collapse.
Had it not been for the affection of the family that newly adopted him, he would have lived his entire life as a deficient or twisted human being.
Under selfless love and care, Cloud was able to grow into a decent man. Nevertheless, there was a void in his heart that could not be filled, and its name was “brother.”
Cloud analyzed his own emptiness. His brother was a symbolic existence of a miserable past and his very origin; therefore, the desire to find him must surely be a compensatory urge stemming from that unfortunate childhood.
He was the only brother who had called his name and loved him. Thus, if he found his brother and showed him—confirmed to him—that he had become a wonderful adult even in his absence, it would prove that his life had been valuable. Then, this void, which could not be satisfied even by the infinite affection of his family, would be filled.
It took only the blink of an eye for all these assumptions, which he had chewed over for decades to reach a conclusion, to crumble.
〈I think… I met him not long ago… the eldest brother…〉
As Sister Hyo-ju Agnes’s voice, stuttering as if she herself could hardly believe it, reached his cerebral cortex, every cold conclusion reached by reason was erased.
His heart, which he had lived almost without acknowledging for a lifetime, beat violently, and an incomprehensible heat surged from deep within his chest. A turbulent wave, as if storming through his soul, made his fingertips tremble, and he could not breathe properly.
Only then did Cloud realize the true name of his void.
Its name was longing.
The lodging had been slightly hectic since morning. A few employees of the Supernatural Phenomenon Response Agency, including Gwak Yun-sang, had mentioned they were heading to Sunan Airport to welcome Cloud Carter.
“Have you ever met a person named Cloud Carter in person?”
“Um, no.”
Tae-un answered in a pure, spotless voice.
“But I’ve heard a bit about him. He’s famous as a magical beast scholar, but above all, he’s of Korean descent. Whether someone is adopted overseas or emigrates, when a person of Korean descent succeeds abroad, the media tends to inject a dose of national pride. Though, he himself has never once appealed to his Korean heritage in interviews or articles.”
“His identity seems to have been quite firm.”
“To the point where, when a reporter asked what his Korean name was, he cut them off and answered, ‘I am American.'”
He had heard that second-generation immigrants or those who emigrated young could feel confused about whether their identity was Korean or that of the host country. Perhaps establishing a firm identity early on was better for the person. Or perhaps the memories of Korea were not very pleasant.
Kim Si-baek, having thought that far, realized such speculation was quite rude and immediately erased it. What mattered was not Cloud’s identity.
“How did he end up being adopted?”
“He hasn’t disclosed it to the media, but I remember seeing an article a long time ago where a reporter investigated…”
Tae-un frowned and stuttered slightly, as if he couldn’t quite remember.
“Nothing is known about who his original family was, but it seems he was adopted overseas through an illegal route via some broker.”
Listening to Tae-un’s following explanation, Kim Si-baek felt a chilling sense of déjà vu. A divorce and dissolution of adoption by a Chinese family who first adopted him for show. And then, new adoptive parents. An adoptee who began to gain repeated fame as a scholar.
He knew exactly what the source of the déjà vu was.
It was a dream he had had in the past.
The trajectory of Dr. Cloud Carter’s life was identical to that of the younger brother in the dream—a dream that was clearly a product of his own imagination.
A sudden shock gripped Kim Si-baek’s soul, sealing his lips. They say dreams reflect reality, but they are never exactly reality. Yet, how could the personal details of a figure who was nothing more than a phantom of his delusions be so identical to a real person?
Kim Si-baek rubbed his goosebump-covered arms and carefully parted his lips.
“Un-ah, this might be a strange question… about Dr. Carter. Does he happen to have autism?”
He hadn’t known when he was young, but after researching as an adult, his younger brother’s unusual and delayed development had been similar to that of an autistic child. The fact that he had failed to properly care for his brother due to ignorance was another of his guilt-ridden memories.
Though the question was asked while steeped in a chilling sense of déjà vu, the answer that came back was utterly nonchalant.
“I’m not sure. I’ve only read a few articles in the past.”
“…I see.”
The three-hundred eyes looking down at Kim Si-baek, whose face had turned pale as the blood drained from it, sank into a blank expression, then curved into a bright smile as their eyes met.
“Is an adoption process like Dr. Carter’s common?”
“Overseas adoptions were many… and while being dissolved from the first family and then adopted again isn’t common, I don’t think it’s so rare that it would be hard to find.”
Kim Si-baek nodded blankly.
In Mak Slecht, orphans were raised in nearby temples regardless of their religious sect. Since the sect took precedence over the borders of nations established by humans, even if one found a new family in another country, the concept of “overseas adoption” did not exist.
Therefore, he must have encountered a case regarding overseas adoption somewhere, whether 68 years ago or after his return. Perhaps that case had been Dr. Cloud Carter.
Though it didn’t remain as a clear memory, an early encounter with such a case must have served as the foundation, and the hope that his delayed brother would be smart and excel in studies—unlike himself—must have manifested unconsciously in his dreams. If so, the alignment between reality and the dream was explained to some extent.
Once he cleared his confused mind, he could analyze the situation coldly again. What mattered was not his dream.
“Do you think that person might be related to Edokus?”
“I’m not sure about that. But the ‘mad scientist’ is a cliché trope, isn’t it? He’s someone who delves so deep that he’s described as being crazy about magical beast research, and wouldn’t those things—the chaos grand warriors or whatever they are—know magical beasts better than anyone?”
Tae-un’s point made sense. In Mak Slecht, the reasons why seed bearers colluded with the chaos grand warriors were varied. From personal advancement and private greed to the pursuit of truth and so on.
“Well, anyway, let’s observe Dr. Carter after he arrives.”
Tae-un lightly shifted the mood.
“Eun-ho also looked into Gu Yeong-min, but he said it would take a few more days.”
Biyendwe, who had been eating cherries at the table, also showed interest. If Gu Yeong-min were innocent, there would be no reason for the investigation to take more time. Just as Kim Si-baek was about to ask what the problem was—
Following a knock on the door, Gwak Yun-sang’s voice was heard.
“This is Gwak Yun-sang. Hunter Kim Si-baek, you’re in here, right? If you’re not too busy, could I see you for a moment?”
“Yes, please come in.”
As soon as he answered, the door opened, revealing Gwak Yun-sang with an awkward expression. And behind him, a man who was partially obscured from view.
As Kim Si-baek stood up from his chair, Gwak Yun-sang gestured for the man standing behind him to enter.
“I apologize for the sudden visit, but there is someone I would like to introduce.”
Following Gwak Yun-sang’s guidance, the man standing a few steps back entered the room. A tall, middle-aged man entered without a greeting and stared at him.
The man’s appearance was so similar that it instantly resurfaced the memory of his father, which had been buried under old recollections.
Kim Si-baek had met this man before.
The very man he had seen in his dreams.
His brother.