Retire 394

394 Greeting (3)

“Hee-jae!”

Unlike Hope, who radiated clear displeasure, Tati, the dungeon’s fairy, gave Hope only a single glance before completely ignoring her.

I thought, since she was a monster herself—well, formerly, at least—she might react in some way, but I hadn’t expected her to dismiss Hope so thoroughly. Was it proof that Hope, after losing those wings, was now entirely human in every sense? If you carried something like that on your back, even monsters wouldn’t see you as human, I suppose.

“Hee-jae…?”

Tati circled around me, narrowing her eyes. She sniffed the air, reached out her hands, waving them here and there.

She was ignoring Hope’s very existence.

Come to think of it, this fairy hadn’t paid much attention to Kim Chaemin or Hong Seok-yeong, either. She would answer if spoken to, but the only person she ever actively engaged in conversation was me.

Why?

The answer came easily.

Because of my brother.

Ah, here it is again. Another question with no answer. How had my brother ended up in this dungeon? How had he come to befriend this monster?

Ironically, the one who could answer that question was right in front of me… but whether she would answer was another matter. Whether she had the vocabulary for it, or even the desire to answer, I couldn’t be sure.

If she’d wanted to tell me, wouldn’t she have done so long ago?

“…?”

Tati tilted her head.

Between her narrowed eyes, I could faintly see a furrowed brow. Beneath the cracked skin, something shimmered—gold, thick and viscous, like blood, oozing through the cracks like mud.

Tati furrowed her brow and came closer, as if trying to make out something she couldn’t see clearly. The way her face scrunched up was almost human.

It was so human that it felt unsettling.

Suddenly, I was struck by the realization that the monster before me was, in a sense, an alien. With intelligence like that… if their first choice hadn’t been invasion, could things have gone differently?

…It would have rewritten the history of humanity. But that, too, is a question with no answer.

“Hee-jae, searching?”

Tati leaned in close, asking me.

Even at this distance, her eyes couldn’t focus.

“Searching? Search? Sear-ching…?”

She stumbled over the word several times, but finally found the right one.

“Found! Did you find?”

Her wide smile wasn’t as bright as it had been in the past. I couldn’t tell if that reflected my own mood, or if it was just the dried-out look of the fairy’s face.

Maybe… it was because she already knew the answer to her question.

Did this fairy really not know what kind of situation my brother was in?

“…No.”

I swallowed. Tati didn’t interrupt me. Her face was still wreathed in that big smile, but there was a calmness in her eyes.

I answered slowly.

“I didn’t find him.”

---

Her movements were sluggish, her voice wavering in volume.

Even without any external stimulus, her body would sometimes twitch, as if an invisible needle had pricked her.

Her eyes were always unfocused, as if she was looking at something far away. She responded slowly, turning her head only after a beat.

She couldn’t see.

She couldn’t hear.

Her senses had dulled.

Pain was almost an illusion. But it was real, and as for the source of that pain, Hope answered for her.

“Maybe it’s like anemia?”

It was still a vague answer, but easier to understand than before.

“Like, even just sitting there, you feel all your strength being drained away? Or something like that?”

She was still uncertain, scratching her head as she rambled.

“How would I know? I’ve never been through it myself.”

“Didn’t you end up outside because your dungeon collapsed?”

“The power was running out, but it wasn’t this bad… Besides, a raid party came in. The dungeon was cleared before the power ran out.”

“So you couldn’t stop it?”

“No, you can’t look at it like that!”

Hope pouted.

“I was just one, and there were a bunch of them!”

But then her demeanor changed completely.

“It was the right choice—I had my mom and dad.”

“……”

“Anyway, enough about that.”

What I’d learned from talking with Hope lately was that she didn’t like discussing her days as a monster.

But that didn’t mean I would just let questions go unasked.

Hope held up two fingers.

“A dungeon that’s run out of power only has two options.”

“A dungeon break, or the gate closes and it disappears?”

“There are plenty who’d rather just fade away quietly. You saw it, right? That place where Semi replaced her arm—that was one of those dungeons. Because of that, Semi had to force the gate open.”

Hope nodded at the memory.

“The gate itself doesn’t disappear, so if you trace the mana and shock it, you can force it open temporarily. That’s just connecting external power for a bit.”

“Power… So it takes a huge amount of mana to keep a gate open.”

“Exactly! So that monster is keeping the gate open by burning up her own life.”

“…Why?”

“How should I know?”

Hope let out a deflating laugh.

“That monster keeps calling your name so desperately. Shouldn’t you be the one to know?”

“……”

“Assuming that really is your name, anyway.”

Hope stretched. In the dungeon, we could talk without outside interference. No wonder she was the first to bring it up.

“Still, let’s see. Yeah, I get the gist. I’m not clueless! It’s a lot better to mention a family name than a stranger’s, after all.”

“…Shut up.”

Hope shrugged, laughing, then turned her gaze back to Tati.

“So what now? In this state, you won’t even be able to collect any mud.”

“The mud… forget it.”

“So you’re going to ask that monster? She can barely hear. Her eyesight’s even worse. Is she even thinking straight? She’s a wreck, just a wreck.”

Even as we spoke openly, Tati didn’t seem to understand a word.

“…Not every monster is as fluent as you, right?”

“Monsters aren’t all-powerful! I was more… something close to a spiritual being. She’s got a solid body. It’s different, totally different.”

A fairy who’d once clumsily spoken my brother’s name like a child.

A fairy who’d cherished the business card my brother gave her.

What did a human named Woo Hee-jae mean to this fairy?

And what did a monster like this fairy mean to Woo Hee-jae?

“Tati.”

I called her softly.

Tati blinked, and only after I raised my voice and called her a few more times did she approach.

I wondered what this monster was thinking. I didn’t know how long she’d known my brother, but for her to have maintained this level of language skill in such isolation was extraordinary.

Maybe she understood humans better than I guessed. Maybe I didn’t even need to simplify my words.

If my brother had bothered to leave notes about this fairy… he must have returned here many times.

“The warehouse you mentioned. Do you know what was there?”

“……?”

“The warehouse.”

I repeated the word clearly and loudly until Tati understood.

“Ah! Warehouse!”

“Yes, the warehouse.”

Tati stared at me with her barely-seeing eyes. She looked as if she might be smiling, or perhaps she was sad.

Her gaze, which had been fixed on the distance, slowly turned to me. As if, at last, she could read my heart.

“Hee-jae, he won’t be there.”

Tati whispered quietly.

“He said he was going. But he didn’t go.”

“…Then?”

“Did he go? I don’t know. Maybe he did. But I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Tati’s words flowed gently, like a wave. The vocabulary that had been so childlike was now a little more natural.

Just as I’d been wary of this monster, maybe she’d been wary of me, too.

If someone showed up claiming to be a friend’s sibling and carrying their sword, anyone would be suspicious.

“Humans.”

Tati murmured.

“Many humans came.”

“Humans? Who? They came to this dungeon?”

“Yes.”

Tati gave a small smile.

“Hee-jae, the humans looking for him. When it was dangerous, after everything was cleared up…”

Her smile didn’t last. From Tati’s eyes, something viscous as mud began to drip, glinting gold within.

It looked like… tears. Or blood, laced with resentment and longing.

“He said he’d come back.”

“……”

“He promised.”

“……”

“He promised me.”

Tati kept repeating those words.

A promise.

He said he’d come back.

A certain suspicion surged up in my heart. But I couldn’t bring myself to voice it.

I thought of Kim Yuhwa’s corpse and my brother’s sword, hidden deep in the dungeon.

I thought of myself, the little brother left behind in the orphanage, waiting for my brother.

I’d even gone so far as to give an interview under the name Woo Hee-jae, but no one ever came.

I knew. I’d always known. There was nothing new in this.

Still, I’d hoped, at least, to say goodbye face to face. This time, I wouldn’t forget that face.

Even twenty years ago, had this withered fairy been waiting here for my brother, keeping the gate open, clinging to hope in her suffering, knowing he would never return…?

I clenched my teeth. My brother’s keepsake. The sword was enough for me.

I couldn’t give it away. Even if I didn’t use it, I couldn’t just abandon an item like this. I wanted to return the sword to little Yoo Ji-eun someday.

Almost on impulse, I pulled the crow mask from inside my jacket.

“…Tati.”

I placed the mask in the fairy’s hand, her fingers too numb even to wipe the golden mud from her face.

Tati’s head snapped up.

“Hee-jae…?”

She touched the mask as if it were a fragile sand sculpture, her face full of fear. Her rough fingers traced its shape—the protruding eyes, the long beak.

Tati smiled wider than ever before, like a dying tree blossoming one last time.

“Thank you.”

Tati put on the mask. The face stained with tears and blood disappeared behind the black mask.

I don’t know exactly what kind of relationship she had with my brother.

I don’t know, but even so.

Just the fact that there was someone here who missed him and waited for him.

Just the fact that someone else knew my brother besides me.

“I’ll give you this.”

Tati produced a small piece of paper from somewhere and held it out to me.

“I can’t see it anymore. But you’ll be able to.”

I took the paper. It fit in the palm of my hand. It was surprisingly thick, so despite the frayed edges, it was mostly intact. The surface was glossy to the touch.

The moment I held it, I knew what it was.

…A photograph.

My throat tightened.

“Irok.”

Tati gripped my hand tightly.

With trembling fingers, I turned the photo over.

There were two people in the picture. A young man beaming with a bright smile, and a small child with a sullen face.

“Hee-jae said, if he ever met you, to tell you this.”

Tati stopped, her words halting and awkward. I had no space left for pride at having guessed right.

I looked at the photo. I looked at the young man in the picture.

“He’s sorry he couldn’t come for you.”