What Revenge Leaves Behind
'If you go back and take revenge like that, what will be left?'
It had been about a thousand years since he'd survived in Hell, he supposed.
A comrade whose name and face he could no longer remember had asked him that.
Revenge leaves nothing behind, the man had said. Only emptiness.
Tae-jun hadn't bothered to answer, but in truth, he'd often thought the same.
'Whatever can be left behind, I'll leave behind.'
Was revenge simply taking the lives of a few men?
Tae-jun thought differently.
That was slaughter, not revenge.
Perfect revenge meant stripping away everything the enemy had and grinding it into the dirt.
It meant making them taste excruciating terror until the very moment their breath ran out.
Or better yet, granting them eternal torment even after their breath was gone.
'Not just those six vermin — anyone with so much as a speck of a share in it. All of them.'
Whether that numbered in the thousands or the tens of thousands made no difference.
He would hunt down every last one.
'Enough to make even complete strangers stop and watch my vengeance unfold.'
In life, no one had listened to a word Ki Tae-jun said.
But now things were different.
They had to be.
A revenge that would be carved into the history of the living world and talked about for generations.
A public execution so brutal the whole world would have to watch.
Whatever chaos the world endured along the way was none of his concern.
'At the very least, I must reclaim the rank of High Devil.'
Physical strength was power, certainly.
But only by regaining the rank of High Devil could he obtain certain Authorities.
Authorities that would put the final period at the end of his perfect revenge.
'For a revenge like that, I'll need a means of restoring my power quickly.'
Soul Stones — obtainable only by hunting demons in Hell.
And evil men in the world of the living.
To acquire higher-grade Soul Stones, he would need to hunt vicious demons or vicious humans.
In other words, a murderer who had killed ten men would yield a higher-grade Soul Stone than one who had killed a single person.
'Prisons, for instance.'
Penitentiaries filled with violent offenders from every corner of the world.
Wasn't that the perfect hunting ground?
There was no worry of killing an innocent inmate.
Tae-jun could smell evil on a man.
'I still have a long way to go, though.'
Raiding a prison outright was all but impossible at this stage.
That would only become viable once he'd recovered a measure of his power and Authorities.
For now, all he could do was seek out quality prey.
'And information is lacking, too.'
Tae-jun was, by this world's reckoning, a man from fifteen years ago.
His knowledge of modern society was woefully out of date.
'Having no identity could become a real problem, too.'
He had been dead a long time.
He didn't possess even the bare minimum of identification needed to function in modern society.
If problems like these piled up, they might well stall his movements down the line.
'I need someone who can handle all these miscellaneous issues for me.'
But who on earth could that be?
His parents had passed away before he died.
No siblings. Relatives who might as well have been strangers.
Friends? He'd had a few, but none he could trust.
'Then that leaves⋯⋯.'
Tae-jun, lost in thought for a moment, suddenly remembered someone.
'⋯⋯Is she still living there?'
It was hard to say for certain.
But there was nothing to do but go and see.
'Hyung-bu, don't give up on us.'
His memories from life were no longer vivid.
The only things that remained crystal clear were his daughter, his wife,
and his thirst for vengeance against those six little demons.
After tens of thousands of years in Hell, that was only natural.
There was, however, a single exception.
'No matter how powerful they are, we can rally public opinion, can't we? I'll handle that part, so you just hold on, hyung-bu. Don't let despair win. Understood?'
His sister-in-law — a rookie reporter in the political desk of a newspaper everyone knew by name back then.
'Lee Seo-hyun' alone still remained in his memory.
Because she had been the only person who ever tried to help him.
'I wonder if she's doing well.'
Just as he was pulling himself out of the memory,
the taxi came to a stop in Jungnang-dong, Nowon-gu, Seoul — in front of a run-down, one-bedroom apartment building.
The scenery was familiar.
The home where his father-in-law, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law had lived fifteen years ago.
His in-laws' house.
'It's the same.'
Nothing had changed.
The aging building, the narrow walkway, the cars parked haphazardly.
Everything was exactly as it had been fifteen years ago.
"⋯⋯."
Tae-jun's footsteps felt heavy.
It wasn't merely the long passage of time.
Memories of the past clung to his ankles like chains.
'They treated me like their own son.'
An orphan, and yet they had cherished him as if he were their own flesh and blood.
They had blessed his marriage to Ji-hye, and doted on So-hee more than anyone.
And yet, sadly, he could no longer feel that old, familiar warmth.
"⋯⋯."
Twelfth floor, Unit 1206.
By some miracle, the location of his in-laws' home had survived in his memory.
Tae-jun stood before the door.
And pressed the doorbell.
Who would answer?
Would they even still be alive?
What if someone else lived here now?
That was when it came.
"Who is it?"
An old man's voice drifted through the door.
It had changed a great deal, but Tae-jun knew it instinctively.
There was no doubt. It was his father-in-law.
"It's me. Father-in-law."
Tae-jun answered flatly.
Still, no reply came.
Silence.
Only faint breathing filtered through the door. The old man was peering at him through the intercom, no doubt.
Click.
A moment later,
the firmly sealed door swung slowly open.
And through the gap appeared his father-in-law's face.
A face more wrinkled than before, hair turned snow-white, trembling eyes.
The old man spoke.
"Is⋯⋯ is that really⋯⋯ really you, Ki Seo-bang⋯⋯?"
His voice shook with disbelief.
His father-in-law stared blankly at Ki Tae-jun,
as though he were looking at a ghost.
"⋯⋯."
Tae-jun could say nothing.
He simply stared back at the old man in silence.
A reunion after fifteen years — or after tens of thousands.
And yet, precisely because of that, he felt nothing at all.
"How⋯⋯."
A frail voice slipped through the gap in the aging door.
Tae-jun quietly pushed the door open and stepped inside.
A stale smell, a dim interior.
The lively warmth of fifteen years ago, worn though it was, was nowhere to be found.
"Am I⋯⋯ am I so close to death that I've started seeing things?"
Tae-jun's father-in-law, Lee Gwang-beom, gazed at him with hollow eyes.
His voice trembled, unable to believe the reality before him.
"I've come to finish what was left undone."
"⋯⋯."
Lee Gwang-beom fell silent.
If this were a hallucination, it meant his mind had finally given out on the eve of death; if it were a dream, it was far too vivid.
"So I ask for your cooperation."
Whether his father-in-law was bewildered or not,
Tae-jun continued in a calm, cold voice.
"I need your help, Father-in-law."
"Help? W-with what⋯⋯?"
"Let me meet my sister-in-law."
"⋯⋯!"
In that instant, a violent emotion flickered across Lee Gwang-beom's eyes.
"⋯⋯That child, Seo-hyun, wandered and wandered for long years after you died. She's only just now managed to find her footing. And what do you intend to do to that poor child now?"
His voice was shaking badly.
Lee Gwang-beom pressed on.
"Whether this is a wretched dream or the land of the living, I don't care — but leave our Seo-hyun out of it. That child suffered far more than you ever did, a man who died and vanished. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Tae-jun understood his father-in-law's words.
But he had no intention of backing down.
"I am not the Ki Tae-jun you knew. I have become something far more monstrous than the men who took your daughter and granddaughter from you."
"⋯⋯."
"So cooperate. I have no intention of limiting myself by means or method."
At that resolute voice, Lee Gwang-beom quietly closed his eyes.
And for a long while, he sank deep into thought.
Sorrow, rage, resignation — complicated emotions swept across his wrinkled face one after another.
"⋯⋯Ki Seo-bang, do you know something?"
Lee Gwang-beom spoke slowly.
"It's been over ten years since the television disappeared from this house."
What was he talking about?
Tae-jun listened for a moment.
"At some point, I began seeing their faces — the faces of those men, the ones who drove my daughter and granddaughter to their deaths. One of them kicked a ball around calling himself a national team player. Another crowed about being the heir to some corporation. Another became an actor and lived in the spotlight. And another became some famous lawyer, prattling on about human rights — while my daughter, my granddaughter, lay buried in the ground below."
Lee Gwang-beom's voice trembled once more.
"It's a damn joke. How could such trash — how could garbage like them⋯⋯."
"⋯⋯."
"In my heart, I wanted to do something — anything. Hunt down even one of them and kill him on the spot, or die myself. I felt I'd go mad if I didn't do something, anything at all."
"⋯⋯."
"But if I did, what would become of our second child still living? What would become of Seo-hyun's life? So I endured. That's how I've endured these fifteen years. I can't let it all collapse now, at the very end. The living have to go on living, don't they?"
A stubborn response.
And an understandable one.
"I'll say it again. I have no intention of limiting myself by means or method."
But he could not agree.
"Unlike you, Father-in-law, I have nothing left to protect."
With those words, Tae-jun stepped toward Lee Gwang-beom.
And gently placed his hand on the old man's forehead.
"W-what are you doing⋯⋯."
Lee Gwang-beom asked in alarm, but Tae-jun did not answer.
"Ngh⋯⋯!"
The old man collapsed, unconscious.
Tae-jun laid his father-in-law down on the bed in the inner room and tucked the blanket around him.
'Has my mother-in-law passed on?'
Her memorial portrait sat in one corner of the room.
Tae-jun offered a brief, silent prayer before it, then left the room.
After that, he examined the other rooms one by one.
'As I thought — she's still living here.'
Lee Seo-hyun's room was easy to find.
On the desk sat a single photograph in an old frame.
His sister-in-law and his wife, young and smiling brightly.
"⋯⋯."
Tae-jun stared blankly at the photograph.
Memories of the past flashed before his eyes like a lantern show.
'⋯⋯This is no time for this.'
He shook himself and began searching the room.
And soon, he found a single business card in a drawer.
Lee Seo-hyun — Team Leader
Magazine F
3F, 3, Dogeun-gil 4882na-gil, Dobong-gu, Seoul
In the past, Lee Seo-hyun had worked for the Daehan Ilbo, one of the nation's towering newspaper companies.
A rookie reporter in the political desk, no less — the crown jewel of journalism.
And now⋯⋯ Magazine F?
Tae-jun slipped the card, address and all, into his pocket.
Just before leaving, he returned once more to the inner room where his father-in-law slept, and murmured:
"Father-in-law, I promise you — my sister-in-law's life will not be ruined a second time. If anything, she'll be rid of a weight she's carried for years. My revenge⋯⋯ cannot fail."
Clutching the business card in one hand, Tae-jun stood before a shabby building.
Magazine F.
A three-story structure with peeling paint and rusted iron stairs that creaked at every step.
One look was enough to tell it was on the verge of demolition.
'A place like this⋯.?'
He couldn't believe it.
The Lee Seo-hyun of the past had belonged to the Daehan Ilbo, one of the most powerful media outlets in South Korea.
A promising political reporter, at that. And now she worked out of this crumbling dump?
'She must have been through a great deal.'
Come to think of it, perhaps it was only natural.
After that incident fifteen years ago, her life could hardly have been smooth.
She must have endured endless persecution and contempt.
The price of standing up to a colossal power.
"⋯⋯."
Tae-jun slowly stepped inside the building.
He climbed the worn staircase to the third floor.
Unit 302. A sign reading 'Magazine F' caught his eye.
"You gangster bastards! What the hell is this?!"
At that very moment,
a disturbance erupted from inside.
"Hey! You bastards! Clear all this crap out of here, now!"
Profanity. Shouting.
The sound of something shattering.
And then—
"⋯⋯A stench."