Hong Yeseong, who had remained trapped in the world born from the apocalypse, had somehow returned to the original one. When asked how, he couldn’t remember.

Maybe the Hong Yeseong from the first world helped him.

That was only speculation.

After the System’s collapse, Kkokko, which had run on mana stones, stopped moving entirely. Now it was nothing more than a smooth porcelain chicken. The same fate befell all the equipment Hong Yeseong had crafted. He set up a small workshop at the foot of Mt. Bukhan and lived alone. Though he could have rejoined society freely now, he chose the mountains. When asked why, he’d only said one thing:

“It’s just… comfortable.”

From time to time, he sent bowls or cups to Uijae—always in pairs. His craftsmanship hadn’t faded; every piece was beautiful and sturdy. With Yoon Gaeul’s help, he’d begun selling a few online. Every item sold out within a minute of being posted.

Then, from outside, a vroom like thunder rolled through the air. The sound of a motorcycle engine. With a resigned expression, Uijae turned toward the door.