Chapter 60
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Why Are You in That Shape?
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Whoosh...
Splash. Splash.
A torrent of rain poured down on the amusement park.
Amid the rushing streams of water, a fugitive trudged forward with great difficulty.
The baby bird, covered in blue fluff with a single white feather perked up on the crown of its head, deeply regretted its choice.
Everything had been fine when it first escaped the zoo.
No, it had even felt triumphant.
Having broken free from the cage that was its prison, nothing could stop it now—or so it thought.
But that was a grave miscalculation.
The sudden downpour.
Its body, soaked through and heavy with rainwater, and its stamina plummeting rapidly, made it painfully clear just how rash this escape had been.
Peep...
The baby bird thought to itself.
It should have waited a few more months, after all.
Given how quickly fledglings grew feathers, by then it could have flown away to freedom.
In that sense, this escape was a mistake.
An action worse than doing nothing at all.
But there was no helping it.
In that moment, the option of holding out longer hadn't even existed for the baby bird.
If anything, it only regretted not making the decision sooner.
Peep!
That said, turning back now was out of the question.
Letting out a short cry to steel itself, the baby bird dashed through the pouring rain.
Splash!
...That is, until it hadn't even taken twenty steps and tripped, sliding across a puddle on its belly.
Who was it that said the spirit transcends the flesh?
Unfortunately, that adage didn't apply to this baby bird.
No matter how much it psyched itself up or burned with determination, its body had already reached its limit from wandering through the rain.
Peep...
Was its spirit finally broken, too?
Or had it simply run out of strength to even stand?
Flat on its face in the puddle, the baby bird let out a feeble cry.
Even then, it glared resentfully at the sky.
If only it hadn't rained, it seemed to think.
If the weather had been good, it wouldn't have ended up soaked and splashing into puddles like this.
Above all, with everyone fleeing the downpour into buildings to stay dry, it was harder than ever to find them—and that fact left the baby bird utterly dejected.
Shiver.
As if fanning the flames of its despair,
a chill seeped into its entire body.
It wasn't just cold anymore; it felt like icy needles piercing straight to the bone.
The baby bird realized this might actually be dangerous.
Even a fully grown adult bird would risk getting sick running around in such a storm.
Let alone a fledgling still fluffy with down— if it kept wandering in the rain like this, a mere cold wouldn't be the end of it.
Peep...
If it'd known it'd die so pathetically, it never would've been reborn in the first place.
The baby bird was lamenting its own birth like this when—
Vreeeeeng.
...Peep?
It heard that.
Even through the roar of the rain, it rang out so clearly.
A pure, brilliant melody, smooth as if the pounding downpour itself were its accompaniment.
The sound was so beautiful and enchanting that the baby bird, sprawled in the puddle, wriggled unconsciously to its feet.
And slowly, it followed the tune.
As if entranced by something.
Crossing through the pouring rain.
Dragging its half-frozen body along.
The moment it arrived at a shabby warehouse-like building with a faded "Magic Show" sign—
Peek?
The baby bird's eyes went wide.
Not just because it had finally found the children it had been searching for.
The source of that fantastical melody.
In the dim center of the magic tent.
Beneath the soft lighting, a white-haired man played the violin—a figure impossible to mistake, yet somehow unrecognizable.
And above him, a translucent girl floating in midair.
The sight left the baby bird dumbfounded.
...???
As if doubting its own eyes,
it rubbed them with its wings once.
But the scene didn't change.
A question mark practically floated above the baby bird's head,
as if to say this couldn't possibly be real.
As if wondering where on earth the speakers were hidden on that violin to make it sound so vividly like a live performance.
But that bewilderment didn't last.
Splash—the baby bird flopped over.
It knew it shouldn't fall asleep like this, but in the end, it couldn't open its eyes.
Its stamina had long surpassed its limits.
The sense of relief filling its heart.
And that melody, too vivid for words.
All of it snapped the tension the baby bird had been holding onto, gradually clouding its consciousness.
"Huh? A birdie..."
That was when
a childish voice rang out.
"Birdie, sleepy? Wanna... in my bag...?"
Its mind already drifting in a haze,
the baby bird couldn't make out the words properly.
It only felt something rustling, then something wrapping around it.
Enveloped in that warm embrace, the baby bird drifted off to sleep for the first time since birth, lulled by the violin melody like a lullaby, cozy and secure.
And so, time passed.
"Huh? What was in the kid's bag?"
"Uh... probably..."
"Whoa."
"...right?"
"Mm, for now..."
Faint whispers drifted in through its half-dreaming state.
Voices too ethereal to be real, yet too achingly familiar to be a dream.
That ethereality was as deep as death itself.
That familiarity, sweet as honey.
They pulled the baby bird deeper into slumber.
Even as it wandered that eternally quiet dreamscape, time flowed on.
Flowed, and flowed, and passed...
When it finally opened its eyes,
the first thing the baby bird saw was a naked torso.
...Peek?
Whether from lingering sleepiness
or the shocking sight before it,
for a few seconds, the baby bird froze like a pigeon hit by a slingshot, then belatedly let out a scream of a peep.
Peeep?!
"Hm?"
A lean, muscular upper body without an ounce of fat, glistening with sweat wiped by a towel—a white-haired man.
Rimon turned his head.
Seeing the baby bird in the cage covering its eyes with its wings, he spoke in a bored tone.
"What, you finally woke up?"
As if annoyed at the false alarm.
He clicked his tongue lightly, finished drying his sweat with the towel, and continued.
"You were out so long I thought you might actually croak. For such a puny thing, you've got some grit."
Peep, peep.
Hearing what sounded like teasing, the baby bird didn't get mad—instead, it couldn't collect its wits at all.
Where was this place?
Why was Rimon right there?
What was even going on?
Fresh from a deep sleep, the baby bird couldn't comprehend a thing.
But even watching its confusion, Rimon didn't bat an eye.
He simply dragged over a nearby chair, straddled it backward, rested his chin on the backrest, and met the baby bird's gaze at eye level.
"Alright, let's talk."
Peep?
As if not understanding,
the baby bird blinked.
Rimon's attitude—interrogating a mere bird like this—was utterly out of left field.
"I've got a ton of questions, but let's start with this one."
Unlike the bewildered baby bird, Rimon's demeanor remained utterly calm.
Or at least, it appeared that way on the surface.
But the moment their eyes met,
the baby bird realized.
The calm was only skin-deep—Rimon was just as rattled by this situation.
Those golden eyes, clouded with complexity.
The hand now gripping a sword.
And above all, the absurd question that followed.
All of it showed Rimon was just as baffled as it was.
"Why the hell did the guy who died come back looking like that?"
...Peep?
A form unrecognizable from its past life—no trace of its former self remained.
Yet that wide-eyed, shocked expression was uncannily human.
Rimon uttered the baby bird's name with evident unease.
"Yuna Kyung."
"Ho, impressive."
At the amusement park Rimon had visited,
atop the tallest structure, the braided-haired man nodded as he surveyed the scene below.
"In summary, we look like the fools here."
"What d'ya mean?"
"We showed up way too late and struck out completely."
"Drum, beatin' while walkin'? This country's traditional music?"
"...The target's already gone. Mission failed—get it now, you lunatic comrade?"
"Ah, okay. Got it."
The blonde woman finally nodded in understanding, beaming brightly—only to tilt her head again in confusion moments later.
"Why'd the target vanish? Info screw-up?"
"You think I know, lunatic comrade? Ask the guy who brought the intel."
The braided-haired man spoke mildly, his smiling face belying the casual profanity.
The blonde woman turned to the young man beside her.
"Conrad, mess up again?"
"Why y'all always pickin' on me! This time the info was solid, swear on me life!"
"Then why no target?"
"That's what I wanna know! She was there last check, no doubt—ain't no way she up and vanished unless someone meddled."
As the bull-eyed youth protested indignantly, the blonde woman's eyes sparkled.
"Info leak, maybe?"
"Someone knew we were comin' and hid or snatched the target ahead of time?"
"Timing's too perfect."
"If you're right, lunatic comrade, that means they knew our unreported plan and acted right before we did."
"Internal spy make it possible?"
"And who might that spy be? Certainly not me, the operation commander."
Her gaze shifted back to the bull-eyed youth.
"Don't look at me! If I were movin' pieces, I'd do it quiet-like—why would I feed ya bad intel and look like the fool solo?"
"Conrad, you're an idiot?"
"Quit treatin' my brain like udon noodles! Keep this up, next op I'll fly solo!"
"...Sorry, probably coincidence."
His reaction so over-the-top, the blonde woman bowed her head sincerely in apology.
Somewhat appeased, the grumbling youth turned to the braided-haired man.
"What now?"
"Thinkin' on it."
"Pull back and reinvestigate? Coincidence or not, we gotta check."
"Hm, not bad advice from a dimwit comrade."
"...Drop that phrasing."
"Got it. Not bad advice from a dimwit."
"That ain't what I meant!"
"Fight on—even with loose screws in your head, you're still Conrad."
"Anyone but you, comrade—I don't wanna hear that crap from you!"
The bull-eyed youth fiddled busily with his hands while muttering complaints, as the blonde woman patted his back reassuringly.
Watching his two comrades, the braided-haired man spoke gravely.
"Very well. Let's check everyone who's passed through here yesterday and today."
"Knew you'd go for it."
"It's a rare mission. Can't just drop it over a little setback."
Issuing orders to continue to the blonde woman and bull-eyed youth, the braided-haired man smiled mildly.
"Especially not after Comrade Kang Seok so kindly played decoy and bit the dust to let us roam free in this country."
"Huh? That a sacrifice?"
"He didn't know he was gonna die, though."
"Precisely—Comrade Kang Seok had no idea, but he carried out the mission willingly regardless. A true model of self-sacrifice."
"...Ain't that just gettin' used as a discard pawn?"
The Ferris wheel, creaking to a halt midway,
the three atop its peak roof vanished shortly after their hushed discussion.