By Zephyria 
“Aren’t you ashamed to compete as a prima donna with a song like that?”
「Thos-e who dis-rupt th-e stag-e are n-ot our audien-ce¡」
“You should worry about whether you even deserve to stand on a stage first.”
The man, leaning one arm on the box seat, sneered coldly with his naked eyes, without even using opera glasses. Then, he lightly touched a device that looked like a smartphone. The song 〈Pure Goddess〉, which the soprano entity had been singing, echoed through the grand concert hall. It was the voice of an immortal diva who had dominated an era, possessing an intense power and delicate expressiveness that couldn’t even be compared to the tension of the vocal cords mimicked by an Aberration.
As if the previous commotion had been a lie, the audience remained utterly silent while Callas’s song continued. The solo of the singer entity, for whom the audience had cheered and gone wild, could not dare be called a song compared to hers. It was nothing more than a crude patchwork of sounds that failed to become music.
Even after the song ended, the opera house remained in silence. Only the light of the spotlight illuminated the stage in vain, and finally, the Aberration on the left side of the stage collapsed.
「Aaaah, how sh-ameful… uuuugh…」
As if it were embarrassing to even touch the air where the lingering echoes of Callas’s voice floated, the Aberration curled its entire body up and melted away with a final, death-rattle scream. Starting with that, the entity on the right stage, intoxicated by petty competitiveness, and the entities in the general seating, who had gone frantic over a patchwork of sounds, began to collapse one by one from shame.
An exclamation reached the ears of the victim, who had been staring blankly.
“Team leader! We’re off work! How did you prepare an opera right away?”
“I downloaded a few famous songs just in case, and it seems they were helpful.”
Hearing the relaxed conversation, the victim finally felt the reality that they had escaped this horrific place. The victim burst into tears like a child.
* * *
The victim, who had been sobbing loudly, collapsed from exhaustion. They weren’t injured or physically damaged; it seemed the tension had simply snapped. Upon hearing the tearful farewell—mentioning that it would have been their turn to pay with their internal organs during the next viewing—Yoo Jiha felt his heart fill with an emotion he had never experienced before. It was a sense of pride. It wasn’t a result he had achieved entirely on his own, but he was glad he hadn’t given up. He had done really well.
“It’s all thanks to you, Jiha! How did you think to look at the stage yourself?”
It felt wonderful to be able to smile honestly at the praise directed toward him.
Song Hilda and Kim Min-seop went to search for other victims under the escort of the Enforcement Division agents. After carefully covering the victims lying in the corners of the hallway with jumpers, Jiha stole a glance upward. Seeing Yoo Jiha’s gaze, which for some reason seemed full of things to say, Jeil Heon, who was leaning his back against the wall with his arms crossed, arched his eyebrows.
“Hmm?”
“That person isn’t a ‘Nam,’ they’re a ‘Yoo.’ You called me Nam Jiha.”
“Ah… I knew someone named Nam Jiha in the past, so I got confused for a moment. Sorry.”
Jeil Heon fiddled with his lips, looking flustered. Since Yoo Jiha wasn’t the type to get upset over a name being called wrong once, he asked what he was truly curious about.
“Was that phone earlier a dummy phone?”
“Since I can’t even withdraw a single ten-won coin from my bank account, Suk-young bought me one, calling me a pitiful soul.”
“These days, you really can’t do anything without a phone.”
“It’s different from twenty years ago. That’s why I’m thinking about getting a burner phone…”
“Um, Mister.”
Yoo Jiha carefully spoke the words he had turned over in his mouth several times. The only reason he could ask such a question in this setting was because of today’s events. A modest confidence from having achieved something, and the man who had willingly come to save him when he was almost dragged onto the stage.
Perhaps this level of depth in conversation was permitted.
“I heard from the Director that you have a younger sibling… What is your family like?”
He finally asked the question he couldn’t ask when the man had reminisced about failing to protect his family. With a pounding heart, he looked up cautiously, ready to apologize immediately if he sensed any displeasure. His gaze met narrow, curving black eyes.
“I have one younger sister and three younger brothers—four in total. The fourth and fifth are half-siblings, so there’s a bit of an age gap. When my mother passed away, my father brought in the woman who birthed them and insisted on putting them all on the family registry, which caused a huge uproar with my maternal family. Around that time, my house wasn’t just a mess; it was a total disaster. After some threats of lawsuits, my father gave a significant amount of assets to my maternal side, and the fourth and fifth officially became my siblings.”
“Is… is it okay for you to tell me such family matters?”
“Rumors have already spread, so everyone who knows, knows.”
Jeil Heon seemed to think for a moment before continuing.
“My parents had an arranged marriage. My mother married knowing my father couldn’t keep his pants zipped, so she had no expectations from the start, and thus, she never agonized over my father’s affairs. The woman who birthed my half-siblings also had such a gentle personality that she couldn’t do a thing and kept her head bowed whenever she met my mother. It sounds a bit odd to say, but I suppose she was submissive to her position as a concubine… In the end, I have no great ill will toward my half-siblings. They were just born to a man who spent his time fooling around; what sin could they possibly have?”
As Jiha could only gape at the unimaginable family history, Jeil Heon leaned down to meet his eyes. His narrow eyes were full of mischief.
“Are all your curiosities satisfied?”
“Yes, yes!”
Yoo Jiha nodded his head up and down vigorously. He was happy to confirm it was within the range Jeil Heon permitted, but on the other hand, his mind became complicated knowing that a family history straight out of a drama actually existed in reality.
“You were on good terms with your siblings, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“But you still couldn’t bring yourself to talk about them?”
As if he had guessed that question would come, Jeil Heon didn’t look surprised or offended; instead, he wore a bitter smile.
“I’m exactly the same, but the youngest, who was a high schooler, is now over forty. I heard they’ve already married and had children. The second youngest is over fifty. The last time I saw my father, he was in his fifties.”
“…”
“Would those kids be happy to see an older brother who is now younger than they are?”
Though it was a question, his words held a faint anxiety and conviction. The cold judgment that his siblings would not welcome him felt like another word for resignation.
Yoo Jiha was young and had little life experience. He couldn’t offer a conviction or consolation that it wouldn’t be so. Even he himself was facing cold treatment from his relatives, including his grandmother.
However, the expression Jeil Heon wore when mentioning his siblings was clearly one of love. Not a one-sided emotion, but the love shared between a brother and siblings.
“I don’t know the situation of your family very well, but… if my Noona had gone missing and returned after decades, I think I’d be incredibly happy regardless of what she looked like, even if she were younger than me or had become a baby again. Because she came back alive. She didn’t die.”
“…”
“Once I got used to my returned Noona, we’d probably go back to fighting and all that… because that’s just the normal way things are between me and her.”
If the heartless hope that a missing family member would one day return were to become a reality, wouldn’t the outcome be joyful regardless of what it was? Such a thought might be nothing more than a naive fantasy, possible only because it wasn’t his own situation. Unlike the young Jiha, Jeil Heon’s siblings, who were far more adult, might first think of practical problems regarding his return.
But Yoo Jiha was young. The privilege of youth is being able to prioritize ideals that haven’t been worn down by the hardships of the world. Thus, Yoo Jiha could sincerely convey his wish—a wish for the peace of the man who had saved him.
“I hope your siblings are truly happy that you’ve returned.”
The silence above him continued. Using up the courage to check what kind of expression he was making, Yoo Jiha continued hesitantly.
“U-um, if—I mean, there’s really no way this would happen, but just in case your siblings are reluctant to see you, I’ll take responsibility…! Ah, not responsibility in a weird way, but in the sense that I’ll take charge of throwing a welcome party to celebrate your return…!”
A transparent laugh covered the end of his rambling words. Jeil Heon was laughing with his head bowed. There was an atmosphere of relief.