“A foolish man,” Defender commented briefly on his father. “He should have married someone stronger and more assertive than my mother. No offense to her.”

“He lived and died in a field of flowers,” his sister added, her tone far sharper.

Defender sighed and continued, “Father was what you’d call a ‘good person.’ Couldn’t say no to anyone. Loved lending money he’d never get back. Whenever Mom scolded him, he’d insist that people’s feelings were more important than money.”

His sister made a face of disgust and chimed in, “I hated him. Toward the end, I couldn’t even look him in the eye. How could someone be so much of a pushover?”

I was beginning to understand his father’s type—someone who never caused trouble for others but made life miserable for his own family.

Defender’s father and Defender himself couldn’t have been more different. While his father was endlessly kind and accommodating, Defender had no qualms about killing anyone who got in his way.

Defender spoke slowly, his gaze fixed on the past. His story unfolded exactly as I had expected—a man who was kind to a fault. Friendly, easygoing, and always looking out for others. But as time went on, he helped so many people while neglecting his own needs. And when he needed help, no one was there. He ignored the fingers pointed at him by the very people he had once supported.

“He never saved a single penny in his life. Everything he had came from the inheritance left by my grandfather. But what could he do with it? He had three brothers to share it with. Owning his own house was out of the question. He spent his life bouncing between rented apartments, moving further and further into cheaper neighborhoods as rents rose. Things got so tight that my sister even had to reconsider going to college.”

“He wasn’t ready for the war, was he?” I asked.

Defender turned to look at me. “Do you know what he said about it?”

“No, what?”

‘Wars don’t start so easily. I know the Chinese well. They are a peaceful people,’” Defender said, his voice laced with sarcasm. He snorted bitterly. “Then, when the missiles started falling, he didn’t know what to do. Water, power, everything was cut off. The government told us to go to shelters, but there was nothing there.”

“How was it, Sister?” he asked, glancing back at her.

“Oh, I almost got dragged into a bathroom and raped,” she replied bluntly.

“And that’s the kind of place we lived in,” Defender concluded. “Then, out of nowhere, we got a call from the landlord.”

“The owner of the house you lived in?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of relationship did you have?”

“He was my dad’s college friend. But his life was the polar opposite of my dad’s.”

I recalled Defender’s house. Despite its decay and disrepair, the signs of wealth were unmistakable.

If the landlord had lived a life opposite to Defender’s father, he must have amassed quite a fortune.

“He was the type to call Dad occasionally just to rub salt in the wound. Told him about buying a Porsche for his kid, buying an apartment, going on trips abroad. Later, he bragged about divorcing his wife and keeping a mistress. He was a scumbag.”

Defender’s face was etched with open disdain.

“When the war broke out, that bastard called to ask if Dad, Mom, and my sister were safe. Then he offered them a place to stay in one of his properties.”

“…”

“So, in exchange for leaving ruined Seoul and living in a comfortable home, Dad became their servant. He cooked, cleaned, and did construction work. But something didn’t sit right with me.”

Defender’s eyes narrowed, his gaze reflecting the light of the truck’s interior as if inspecting a blade’s edge. “When we got there, only men were living there. Big, burly ones.”

I didn’t need him to spell it out. I’d already pieced together the landlord’s true intentions when he asked about Defender’s mother and sister. It was a painfully common tale—a predator using comfort and safety as bait to exploit the vulnerable.

Women and children were the usual victims.

Despite the myths of moral superiority Koreans like to boast about, this country proved no different from others in the aftermath of war.

“I told Dad we needed to leave,” Defender continued. “I had a bad feeling. My sister agreed.”

“They came for me while I was in the bathroom,” his sister added. “Waited until I was alone, then knocked on the door.”

“And that idiot got mad at us for even suggesting we leave. He actually yelled for the first time, saying you don’t reject kindness. He even slapped me. It was the first time he ever hit me.”

Defender’s sister shifted in her seat, brushing aside her hair to reveal a scar along her temple.

“When I came back, Dad was tied up and beaten. Mom was dead, her head bashed in with a shovel. My sister was unconscious, bleeding from a head wound, and a group of men was stripping her.”

“The bastard didn’t even seem to know how to undo a bra strap,” she scoffed.

“What happened next?” I asked.

“What do you think?” Defender replied with a wicked grin, spinning a razor-sharp knife between his fingers.

“I killed every single one of them. The landlord, his son, his son’s friends, even the mistress’s little brat and their damn dog.”

“…”

“Dad sat on the floor crying, but I didn’t feel an ounce of pity for him. His stupidity ruined our family, led us to ruin. I treated my sister’s wounds, buried Mom, and cleaned up the bodies. But I ignored him completely.”

Defender sighed, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “The next morning, he was dead.”

He looked back at me with a strangely refreshed expression. “That’s the story. Satisfied now?”

Without waiting for an answer, Defender stepped out of the truck, a cigarette already between his lips.

“Stay here. I’ll take a walk around.”

“…”

So, there was a story behind it all. At least we’d grown closer now. Defender himself had once said, back at the theme park, that family stories were only shared after growing close.

But it wasn’t a pleasant tale. Peering into someone’s stained past never was.

At least not the kind of tale that would top the popularity board on Viva! Apocalypse! It was just another tragedy in a world drowning in them, one more drop in an ocean of despair.

Lost in thought, I felt a jab on my shoulder.

“Ow!” I yelped, spinning around. Defender’s sister was holding her tablet, shoving the screen toward me.

[ My brother still loves our dad. ]

“What? What are you talking about?”

Her fingers tapped quickly, typing out another message.

[ That’s why he can’t bury the body. ]

“You’re saying he’s been keeping your dad’s corpse hanging for over two years because he loves him?”

[ I told you, he’s afraid of it. He doesn’t have the courage to face it. He loved Dad too much. Or maybe he feels like it’s his fault. Like if he’d said just one thing differently, things could’ve turned out another way. ]

“…”

[ Skelton, do you have a dad? ]

“I’m an orphan.”

“Oh.”

[ I figured. ]

“What are you trying to say?”

[ Anyway, help my brother out. He’s more sensitive than he looks. He’ll regret this a lot later. ]

“How exactly am I supposed to help?”

“Maybe with some soul-stirring words?”

Defender’s sister looked straight at me—longer than she ever had before. Her eyes carried a desperate, pleading expression I wasn’t used to seeing from her.

“I know, Skelton. You’re this unfunny guy who messes around with weird beatboxing and hangs out with people like John Nae-non, but deep down, you’re thoughtful. I can see that.”

Her face flushed slightly, and she turned her gaze away.

“I might not look like it, but I have a good eye for people.”

She wiped the blush off her face and looked at me again.

“Though, I’m pretty sure you’re not actually 197cm, 100kg, or 30cm,” she added, smirking.

“Enough with that joke already,” I said, giving her a dry smile.

She wanted me to say something meaningful to Defender? To me, that seemed like a tall order.

I had failed to save even one of my comrades before. If anything, she was barking up the wrong tree.

And yet, what was this feeling? This urge to do something.

Sure, there was no guarantee it would work. Knowing how clumsy I was at handling people, I might even ruin our relationship.

But she had asked. And an idea—something appropriate—popped into my head, bright as Edison’s light bulb.

“Well then, I’ll be back in a bit,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt.

“What?! Where are you going?”

“I’m not exactly great at talking.”

“So?”

“Why don’t I bring your father’s body back? That way, you can move on and make a decision about moving once everything’s settled.”

“Well, that’s logical, but…”

“There’s a carrying frame in the truck, isn’t there?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Get it out for me.”

Though we had taken a detour by road, the actual walking distance to the theme park was short—just thirteen minutes. If I ran, it would take only five.

I wasn’t thrilled about carrying a corpse through possible encounters with soldiers, but this felt like the best way forward.

Having lost my entire family to monsters, my own memories of family were faint. That empty space had been filled with hatred, which had become the source of my strength.

But for those who still had family, who carried those memories alive in their hearts—how did it feel?

Surely, it must be precious.

Most of all, I remembered something: Defender, normally so cold and pragmatic, had gone out of his way to avoid even looking at his father’s corpse. That emotion, as his sister had said, couldn’t be simple contempt.

Perhaps he had loved his father just as much as he had hated him, leaving him paralyzed, unable to act. If he truly despised his father, he would have handled it cleanly, like the children who abandoned Kim Elder and waited for him to die.

“Hey, Skelton. What are you doing?” Defender’s voice came through my communicator.

I ignored him.

A moment later, his voice returned. “I heard from my sister. You know you’re doing something pointless, right? This is a family matter. I like you, Skelton, but I won’t tolerate you interfering in my family’s affairs. Turn back before this gets messy.”

“Let me ask you something,” I said.

“What?”

“It might sound like an insult, but it’s clear your father wasn’t a great dad.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t,” Defender replied, his tone flat.

“But do you think he was a bad dad?”

“That’s…”

I don’t think so. A man who, even in death, binds such cold-hearted siblings must have had some goodness in him.

Not being a smooth talker, that was all I could say.

“Skelton,” Defender said again, as if he had made up his mind. “I appreciate the thought, but this is a family matter. You need to…”

“Do you know why Dad liked that place?” his sister interrupted.

Defender’s silence suggested even he hadn’t expected her to butt in.

“Da-jung,” he said, speaking her name for the first time in front of me.

“I hated him,” she continued, “but I know why he went there and why he wanted to stay. He had memories there.”

“Memories?”

“Do you remember holding hands and going to the amusement park below our house?”

“…”

“He told me once that those were the times he felt he could give us the best, when our family was at its most abundant.”

“Does that matter?”

“I don’t know. I don’t believe in superstitions. But maybe he missed those days. Maybe he thought staying there would bring those days back. That’s just my guess.”

Defender said nothing. Not even his breathing came through the communicator. He must have muted himself.

I stood under the corpse, now illuminated by the moonlight that the clouds had graciously cleared.

“Sir… that’s what they said,” I murmured.

The body swayed gently in the wind, like a banana tree, as if gazing down at the theme park below.

Carefully, I cut the body down, wrapped it in a tarp, and strapped it to the carrying frame.

“Phew.”

I had to get back as quickly as possible. With my eyes adjusted to the dark, I scanned the downhill path for footing.

That was when Defender’s voice returned, breaking the brief silence.

“Cultists,” he said.

I heard him click his tongue in irritation.

“Damn it. There’s Awakened with them.”