"It's chaotic. Full of energy."

"It's a big city. But it's already getting warm here."

"Maybe we should have just taken the car. Should we go back now?"

"Come on, let’s walk. I don't want to get worried about you as soon as we arrive."

11 AM, Seoul.
On Yeongdong-daero.

The wide road stretching across 14 lanes, the sidewalk on both sides, and the sunlight streaming down. One person dressed in a gray women's suit and another in a tight beige two-button suit. They walked down the sidewalk without a tremor, their movements sharp and precise as though tailored like a blade.

It was, rarely, a blue sky. At least, that’s how they remembered it. Normally, spring in Seoul, and in Korea, would be associated with the hazy sky brought by the harsh yellow dust carried by the wind.

But the Korea they were walking through was not like that. Once one of East Asia's most troublesome problems, China had now split into seven, and thanks to strict environmental controls, yellow dust was no longer an issue. The two were greeted by an exceptionally clear sky.

"It’s gotten so much better. Should we just live here?"

"Do you want to see Hanslow clinging to your pant legs?"

"He’ll be happy enough attending board meetings remotely."

Five years.
Sixty months. Though it involved certain methods, five years were more than enough to adapt these two individuals, once parents, into key figures at Icarus International, one of the top 50 global companies.

They had long forgotten the air of Seoul, and speaking and thinking in English had become more familiar than speaking Korean. While Seoul was where the past and present coexisted, the weather was unpredictable, and the prices were sky-high, it was the city of New York—the one with Central Park in the heart of it and the frozen Hudson River—that remained clearer in their minds.

However, despite the fact that the past customs and memories were fading away, there was one unbreakable bond they couldn’t let go of.

"It’s farther than I thought."

"That’s why I said we should have just taken the car."

"I thought we'd meet her before we were ready."

A small chuckle. Yet, within it, there was undeniable longing and anticipation.

Despite their words, 2 km felt incredibly short, and in just a few moments of recalling some past memories, the two had reached the end of Yeongdong-daero. A brand-new building stood in front of them, spotless and flawless, facing the Han River.

The parents of Eugene stood there, expressions too complicated to describe. While it is said that the success of one's children is the greatest joy for parents, how should one receive such a success if it’s the result of emerging from the hell of royalties? No one among them had any doubt about what kind of life path their son—or daughter—had drawn for the past five years, and the reality of it only made it more complicated.

But there was one undeniable truth: no one would suffer anymore.

They crossed the crosswalk and entered the lobby on the first floor of the building.

Two employees approached silently, overriding specific permissions, and they were allowed to move to a particular floor—though the exact destination didn’t need to be explained.

At some point, the conversation between the man and woman ceased. Inside the elevator, heading to the top floor, only silence remained. It wasn’t because they had nothing to say. It was because the scene they had imagined countless times over the past years, months, and even days was finally in front of them.

The elevator doors opened.

They were greeted by a vast hallway, beautifully decorated to provide both awe and clarity to the residents, but to these two, not even a single detail caught their eye. Without consciously realizing it, their pace quickened, and in just a few dozen seconds, they arrived at the door.

Unintentionally, their fists clenched. Should they ring the doorbell, or knock? The reunion method they had carefully planned in their minds—whether days ago or hours ago—had vanished into thin air, leaving only an empty mind.

But as always, time and situations didn’t wait for anyone.

Click.

The automatic door opened.

There, standing in the doorway was their daughter, whom they had only seen on screens until now.

Her pale white hands, gripped so tightly that they had turned white, her face slightly tilted in a way that it was unclear whether she was looking straight at them, her lips tightly clenched and then releasing, and the tears that began flowing down her cheeks.

Her throat tightened, and their eyes reddened. Eugene’s parents, too, couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down their faces. The only reason they didn’t cry out loud was because of the daughter standing before them.

After a painful pause, Eugene's voice was heard.

“…Dad, Mom.”

"…"

"I’m back."

Step by step, slowly, the distance closed. In the middle of the hallway, Eugene and her parents carefully embraced each other. It was not as they had remembered it, nor as they had imagined it, but the warmth spreading through their bodies and the familiar traces of the past that they could still recognize filled the gap.

The son—or daughter—had returned home after five long years.

Someone else spoke again.

“Thank you for staying alive, Jina.”

“Dad…!”

“Welcome home, our daughter.”

“Mom…”

The sound of sobbing grew louder, eventually turning into uncontrollable crying.

Tears spread across her tailored suit, and Eugene collapsed right there.

“I… I really… so many things happened... Huh… it was so hard…”

“…”

“I really… I missed you, really...”

The hidden truth, the one she could never share with anyone.

The secret she couldn’t even tell her closest ones, and the pain that was too great for any one person to bear—the emotional scars of five years and four months of hardships poured out as tears.

The moment the collision of worlds that had produced countless victims, including herself, came to an end, was marked by tears.

And then...

“…Did you all do well?”

“We’ve been fine, of course.”

“I’m relieved.”

“Who else would’ve said that?”

At the end of April, in Cheongdam-dong, a rare sight. On a large table in the living room, a variety of Korean dishes had been placed, and two chairs that had gathered dust for so long were finally used after a long time.

The food was not homemade, but room service delivered via the lobby. But that wasn’t what mattered—it was the long-awaited reunion of a family that had been separated for five years and four months. Though their appearance and social status had changed drastically compared to before, nothing could prevent this reunion.

Of course, that was true for Eugene’s parents.

Eugene had never told them exactly how her body had changed over the years.

“Doesn’t it feel weird?”

“What feels weird?”

“The tail... and, well, a lot of things.”

“That’s impossible. How could you look so cute?”

What should she say in response?

But one thing was clear: Eugene’s tear ducts reacted first, not her rational mind. Even though she had cried many times before, Eugene's eyes turned red again, and her parents, who were eating, once again wiped their daughter’s tears.

The embroidered golden threads on the handkerchief and the tears still on it had yet to dry.

Since the meal was almost finished, no awkward situations arose, but Eugene was embarrassed and didn’t know what to do—however, her parents were seeing it from a completely different perspective.

‘...She’s still just as tearful as before. Our daughter.’

In the long time they had been apart, and despite the fact that Eugene had changed so much that her parents didn’t recognize her, they couldn’t help but feel like she was exactly the same as they remembered. Eugene’s every action still carried traces of the past—and the preparation they had done for the reunion now felt pointless.

Certainly, they had never seen her like this in real life, but Eugene's family had already adapted to her new appearance.

Moreover, Eugene didn’t need to explain to her parents what had happened during all those years.

“You saw everything, right?”

“Not everything, but when you were running around with a gun, we saw it for sure. Sometimes, if I thought you might get shot, I’d let a few shots miss.”

“Oh, you’re crying again. You didn’t cry during the broadcast.”

“…Ugh, I don’t cry during the broadcast.”

Amidst the tears, a small laugh emerged.

Her parents had already figured out how to deal with their tearful daughter. As soon as they sensed that a slightly sad story might emerge, they quickly followed up with something small and cheerful, making Eugene blush in surprise.

The atmosphere gradually lightened. As the food was cleared from the table and the ventilation system absorbed all the food smells, something caught the attention of Eugene’s family, who were quietly observing the results Eugene had achieved.

A golden trophy, relatively large in size, yet surprisingly light due to its hollow interior. But there was no one who didn’t know what it was.

It was the first-place trophy from the Final Championship.

“I wanted to give this to you in person.”

“Ah, the trophy!”

“It’s still well-designed even now, don’t you think?”

“Of course. Jina insisted on making sure the designers worked hard on it.”

Jina?

But the answer came quickly. It was named after Eugene's true self, Jina.

With swollen eyes, her face still reddened from crying, she turned her head slightly. Her parents were holding the trophy, showing Eugene’s achievements right before her eyes, and she shyly averted her gaze, but her lips were already curling into a smile.

She couldn’t hide her emotions, and for her parents, who remembered even the smallest details of their daughter, it was as clear as day.

“Who is that person, Logan? Is he your acquaintance?”

“Oh, yes. He was my superior back then. But it turns out he’s my superior here too.”

“You went to the army twice, our daughter.”

“Yeah…”

“It would’ve been better if you hadn’t gone after the change.”

Strictly speaking, it was three times—once before the change, then twice during the five years spent in the other world, and once more through the MAVNI Act, when Eugene joined the U.S. military in this world.

After a long conversation that didn’t seem to end, once the lunch at 1:30 PM was finished, words continued to flow endlessly, and Eugene and her family spent time going around the house, unraveling their stories.

Having spoken so much, everyone’s throat was dry, so Eugene quickly brought out coffee and drinks. But this was only the beginning of the ongoing conversation at the table.

“So, I can’t think of it in Korean.”

“Should we do it in English? I can speak English, Chinese, Spanish, and Russian.”

“The lineup is a bit much.”

“Hahaha…”

It was unavoidable, like a professional’s habit.

So, they continued their conversation in both English and Korean, and in no time, it was already 8 PM.

When Eugene’s stomach growled, her family was startled and immediately said:

“Oh, our daughter must be hungry. I’ll treat this time. Anything you want? I heard a private room just opened at Park Hyatt’s Steak House. Do you think the limousine can come all the way here?”

“Are you sure you don’t need extra pocket money? Just ask if you do.”

“Uh…”

Her parents’ expectations were so high that it became a bit of a dilemma.

Eugene couldn’t help but chuckle. All this time and the change in her social status had made things so intimidating—even though, truthfully, Eugene had bought this penthouse with her own money.

But, as always, she wasn’t one to refuse her parents' kindness, and there was no reason to reject a family dinner after such a long time.

Carefully, yet surely, Eugene tucked her arm into her father and mother’s arms, and both of them looked at her with surprised expressions before smiling warmly in return.

“I’m looking forward to dinner.”

“Sure. Don’t worry about the price.”

“Is it okay if I eat a lot?”

“Eating a lot is cute. That’s our daughter.”

“Hehe.”

The sensation of her parents gently stroking her hair was felt throughout her body.

At that moment, Eugene was the happiest she had ever been.

It was the first family dinner after five years and four months.