“Remember.”

Uijae took a deep breath. The desolate wasteland around him had vanished, replaced by the meeting room. Kkokko had closed its beak and was gazing up at him quietly. Uijae forced himself to calm his pounding heart.

‘What I just saw….’

It had to be the memory of the first world. The moment when Cha Uijae first turned back time — the moment he had raged against the apocalypse, desperate to leave even the slightest trace behind.

His right hand trembled. Every muscle in his body was tense, as though he had just hurled the spear shaft with all his might.

That was how vivid the memory had been. Vivid enough that his body remembered it. Uijae clenched and unclenched his fist.

“If you showed me that, then Hong Yeseong….”

Kkokko drooped its head dejectedly. That was the answer. Uijae didn’t ask further and instead patted Kkokko’s head. The porcelain chicken nuzzled its smooth head against his palm. Uijae spoke in an intentionally light tone.

“Sa-young should have seen this. Don’t you think?”

“Kkoo?”

“That way, he wouldn’t be thinking about jumping off a building. See? He’s gone, so I’m going off the rails like this.”

“Kkoo.”

Kkokko nodded as if in agreement. Uijae hugged the porcelain chicken and approached the floor-to-ceiling windows of the meeting room. Below, chaos reigned.

People were flocking to shelters, cars were piled up on the ruined roads, people ran frantically. And in the sky…

The apocalypse’s eye watched them all.

“…….”

The vortex seemed to shift slightly, and Uijae felt that piercing gaze boring into him. Heavy, intense, and hollow. ‘That thing’ was clearly aware of Cha Uijae’s existence and was watching him intently.

If he had simply died fighting against the apocalypse, it wouldn’t even be paying him any attention. Uijae smiled.

“Looks like my last desperate move worked, Kkokko.”

“Kkoo?”

He had no idea what had happened to the spear shaft. He had turned back time before he could confirm it. But feeling that eerie gaze upon him now made it all too real.

Cha Uijae had left a mark on the apocalypse!

His heart raced. Not with fear — but with pure exhilaration.

Even if it was just a scratch, it didn’t matter. The fact that he had left a mark was what mattered. Leaving a wound meant he could inflict a deeper one next time.

And maybe… he could erase it completely.

His reflection stared back at him from the glass — ashen hair, strands around the crown catching the light and appearing almost white. There was no time left. Not for Cha Uijae, not for the world.

Would the mutation strike first, or would the apocalypse come first?

There was no time to hesitate, no time to calculate.

The phone in his pocket vibrated. Uijae pulled it out and pressed the call button.

“Yes, Director. …Actually, I was just about to call you myself.”

Uijae turned away from the glass.

“I’m heading to the Bureau.”

***

Tap, tap. The sound of low-heeled shoes echoed through the long corridor. The passing librarians swallowed nervously and pressed themselves against the walls.

A woman with her long hair pulled back and secured and wearing a white coat strode down the hallway with a bright, cheerful smile. It was Ha Yeong. She pushed open the door to the Guild Leader’s office without hesitation.

“Guild Leader of Seowon Guild~ Are you here~?”

“The Master is currently unavailable.”

Ha Yeong’s gaze rolled downward. Standing in the doorway, blocking her path, was a boy in a white coat. His glassy, green eyes captured her entirely. Unpleasantly. No, not quite — they actually looked like glass beads.

‘They’re actual glass beads.’

The marionette that served as the assistant to the Seowon Guild Leader. She had always been curious about it. Ha Yeong’s “children” looked like patchwork dolls, sewn together with mismatched pieces.

Ha Yeong reached out and pinched the boy’s cheek. Surprisingly, it stretched softly. With a curious expression, she tilted his face from side to side.

“Oh my? I thought it would feel like clay.”

“……”

“Did they use real human skin for the exterior? Or leather? Silk? Specially manufactured fabric?”

“……”

“You respond so well when your master talks to you, but why aren’t you answering my questions?”

“I responded to your first question. The rest are not related to my master, so I judged there was no reason to answer them.”

“Oh, so you don’t answer questions about yourself. Is that to keep a secret?”

“……”

Ha Yeong, looking bored, released her grip on his cheek.

“Well, whatever. That’s not why I’m here. Where did the Guild Leader go?”

“He is resting.”

“At a time like this?”

“The Master requires physical recovery.”

“Does he even know what’s happening outside?”

“The White Hole has disappeared and reappeared.”

“And the accelerated progress of the Whiteout? The Erosion Dungeons exploding, releasing monsters? And those attacked by the monsters turning into mutants?”

“I am aware of everything.”

“No sense of responsibility.”

“……”

“Well, whatever. I came to talk about something.”

Ha Yeong smiled brightly and extended her hand.

“I’d like you to share the vaccine research you’ve been working on.”

The boy responded with an unchanging expression.

“Declined.”

“Oh? Why?”

“First, the vaccine research is not complete. We cannot share an incomplete vaccine. The side effects are unknown. Second, we have confirmed that Seowon Guild’s development speed is faster than Prometheus’. Using an incomplete vaccine as a reference would be—”

“Aaah, enough with the formalities. You’re no fun.”

Ha Yeong waved her hand dismissively and flicked her fingers behind her. Humans covered in thorns staggered forward from the shadows. Ha Yeong stepped back and crossed her arms.

“Sorry, but this isn’t a request. It’s an order to save more lives.”

“In a partnership, orders do not apply.”

“Oh? Then let’s call it a robbery. I’m quite used to playing the villain.”

As she twirled her index finger, the limp humans lifted their heads. Snap. Ha Yeong snapped her fingers.

“Kiieeek!”

The humans shrieked and rushed at the boy.

Ha Yeong sighed softly.

“Seriously, while we’re wrestling like this, the number of mutants keeps increasing…. Awakened ones have a lower mutation rate, so it’s fine, right? If you share it, you could save more lives.”

“That is a fallacy.”

“Well~ even if they get a bit rough, bear with it. You can always fix them up again, right?”

“……”

“Boys, don’t break him too much. I still need to take a look inside~”

Thwack, thwack. The sound of fists and flesh colliding echoed through the hallway.

Ah, so they stuffed them with flesh instead of cotton?

Ha Yeong hummed a cheerful tune, clasping her hands behind her back as she started to walk away.

“Hmm~ Now, which way was the lab again…?”

Tap, tap. Her heels clicked rhythmically as she walked down the corridor. The deeper she went, the quieter [N O V E L I G H T] it became. That was better. She had been surrounded by fake hymns and piano music for far too long.

‘Humans are meant to live in quiet places….’

She descended a flight of stairs and entered another hallway. If she remembered correctly, this was where the lab that had taken the mutant’s leg was located.

Maybe everyone was busy in the field because of the emergency? It was eerily silent.

‘Well, that’s fine by me.’

At least she wouldn’t have to silence any witnesses.

Tap, tap.

Screeeeeech….

A strange noise mingled with her footsteps. Ha Yeong’s head snapped around. There was nothing behind her.

“……”

A door? No. It sounded more like something sharp scraping against the wall….

‘…Am I overreacting?’

Ha Yeong scowled and resumed walking. Wasting time on something like that would be catastrophic. The number of mutants was increasing by the second.

Tap, tap….

…After the Day of Rupture, finding a proper funeral home was as difficult as plucking a star from the sky. The death toll was too high, and the number of functioning funeral homes was too low.

That was why most people killed in dungeons or ruptures were grouped together in mass funerals.

Ha Yeong stared blankly at the picture of her younger brother, nestled among countless other portraits. The scale was grand, but the scene was pitiful.

He shouldn’t have died like that. He could have lived. If they hadn’t been too late. If he had received treatment on time.

If that damned awakened one hadn’t stolen his spot in line!

If his treatment hadn’t been delayed!

Ha Yeong clenched her teeth, her nails digging into the mat-covered floor. Her eyes burned with rage.

The pathetic funeral, the grief of losing her only family, gradually twisted into directionless fury and hatred. She couldn’t stand it. The people praising Hunters, the media acting like Hunters were the solution to everything, the damned Hunters strutting around with their chins held high — she hated all of it!

And then, someone approached her.

It was when she stood at the riverbank, scattering her brother’s ashes.

A man in a white coat approached. Ha Yeong didn’t look at him.

“Did you lose a loved one?”

“……”

“I did too.”

“……”

Losing someone important — that story was all too common.

But then….

“Do you hate Hunters?”

That question was rare.

Ha Yeong lifted her head. The man was looking at her with a gentle smile.

…Once, she had harbored hope like that.

Tap, tap.

Stopping the apocalypse with human power, saving humanity….

Screeeeeech….

Ha Yeong stopped again. It wasn’t her imagination. Something was definitely following her.

One of her failed experiments? No, they didn’t make noises like that….

She turned her head to look behind her. As expected, there was nothing.

No.

The long hallway behind her was now marked with bloody footprints.

Drip.

Something fell from the ceiling. Ha Yeong slowly lifted her gaze.

“……”

“…I sliced them all up.”

A boy who had been clinging to the ceiling on all fours dropped down, landing on his feet. His white coat and entire body were drenched in blood. In his hand, he held an axe as long as his arm.

His blood-soaked face was blank.

“It’s fine, right? You can just make them again.”