Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Please Understand, I'm from the Old Days - The Sovereign’s Modern Life

Shim Daeyoung boarded the return train with a dazed look on his face. The high speed of the magic stone-powered train whipped against his skin, but it still didn't feel real.

You're gonna be stunned. The words of the previous officer echoed in his mind once more. And yes, Daeyoung was utterly stunned.

Seoul. Standing in front of Seoul Station, Daeyoung gazed up at the sky that hadn't quite darkened yet. Cheorwon had been buried in snow, but here it seemed the storm had passed, leaving only scattered remnants.

It all felt a bit like a dream. Cheorwon's vast snowy expanse. That endless white frozen wasteland. And there, appearing out of nowhere, a man named Choi Kang-ho. A quiet, dangerous land.

"......"

In contrast, Seoul was a full-blown metropolis. Crowds bustled everywhere. For that brief time in Cheorwon, he'd been completely entranced. Daeyoung stepped out of the station, feeling strangely out of place.

The city was peaceful. Peace had held for quite a while now. Disaster monsters rarely appeared in the urban core anymore; most hunting happened in the outskirts for loot. Those days of fighting for survival were long gone.

Daeyoung liked it that way. Peace! How desperately they'd all longed for it. The era of clawing for survival was best left to history books, in his opinion.

First things first: the debriefing report. In front of Seoul City Hall. Out-of-town trips usually allowed immediate clock-out, but visiting Kang-ho was the exception. Orders from above: report back before leaving.

Daeyoung slowly entered the new building to the right of City Hall. This was the Disaster Management Bureau.

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"Ah, back already."

Daeyoung bowed to the middle-aged man before him. "Yes, Director."

Disaster Management Bureau Director! The title was practically a dream for Daeyoung. Sure, he'd made 5th-grade officer, but public service was brutally competitive and luck-dependent. Even grinding upward for life, the odds of retiring without ever hitting director were high.

At that, the man before him—Lee Sang-jun, director in his 50s—was nothing short of aspirational.

"Here for the debriefing report, as ordered. You said to report directly to you after the Cheorwon trip."

The director smiled faintly. "Of course. Have a seat."

Daeyoung cautiously sat across from him. The director asked, "How was he? Still in good health?"

His eyes held a trace of nostalgia. Daeyoung scratched his head awkwardly before speaking. "Yes, he looked incredibly healthy. And... remarkably... young."

"I see. Same as ever." He nodded. "Curious, isn't it?"

"Pardon?"

Realizing the implication, Daeyoung nodded. "Yes..."

The director rose, fetched a teapot, and poured into the cups. A fragrant aroma soon filled the room. "Here."

"Thank you."

Daeyoung bowed and took the cup. In the brief silence, he studied the director. A survivor of the Great War 29 years ago, one of the heroes of reversal. He'd fought from the famous Incheon Defense to the Seoul Reclamation. Though the man himself downplayed it.

"Now that you're part of our department, no harm in knowing." "......!" "I was there that day."

The director's eyes grew distant with memory as he slowly began his tale.

— 29 Years Ago, Incheon —

Lee Sang-jun, then a trembling young man in his twenties, was gripped by terror right in the heart of the battlefield. Life hung by a thread amid the chaos.

Ka-rung! Ka-rung! Quaaagwang!

The world was pure hell. Monsters rampaged everywhere, people died in droves.

"Hold the line!"

"Hold!"

Buy time for retreat! Desperate cries echoed. Awakeners banded together against the charging monsters. Mana surged, weapons gleamed sharply.

Shivering, Sang-jun gripped his sword tight. Awakener vs. monster—the war crumbling every city! Only Incheon and Seoul remained. If these fell, the nation was done.

But...

"H-ha, but..."

A colossal monster horde blanketed the sea before Incheon! Eyes full of murder, drooling jaws flashing savage teeth! How to stop a force outnumbering humans so vastly?

Ka-rrrng!

And then, they charged. Under a sky blackened as if doom loomed—it was the afternoon of December's last day. Facing death on the eve of New Year: bitterly ironic.

Sang-jun had seen countless battles, big and small. ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠But nothing like this mega-scale war.

So many. Unimaginably many. Like every beast he'd ever seen gathered in one place.

"Wh-what the hell, so many..."

"We're all dead."

They fought knowing death awaited. Humans held like it was their last stand; monsters charged ferociously as ever.

"Aaaagh!"

Screams of humans! "Kraaagh!" Screams of beasts! Clear disadvantage dragged on. Humanity dwindled further. If Incheon fell, Seoul was next—no stopping them.

Sang-jun's eyes widened. I'm dying today.

Comrades fell. The cursed horde that slaughtered them turned to him.

Krrrng!

No escape. "Uwaaaah! Die, you bastards!" He charged with sword raised.

And then.

"......?"

A massive shadow fell over him. ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The monsters' murderous gazes shifted behind him. Trembling, those savage beasts now quaked in fear—like he had moments ago.

"Wha...?"

He finally turned. There stood a radiant silver fox, vast as a mountain, mirroring the falling white snow. Sapphire eyes gleamed nobly, more beautiful than anything.

Soon, it roared.

Kyahahahang!

"Name?"

Suddenly, a man stood beside him. Messy black hair swept back casually, expression blank.

"L-Lee, Lee Sang-jun."

"Choi Kang-ho."

The man pulled pocket whiskey from his pocket, took a swig, and asked, "You won't run?"

"M-my friends are all dead. Can't just save myself."

Sang-jun stammered through shivers. Pleased, the man offered the flask. "Want some?"

"Fr-from Seoul?"

Kang-ho nodded. "Drink."

Sang-jun took it with grim resolve ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and downed it. Warmth surged, strength welled inexplicably.

"So, what's your plan now?"

"Fight."

Kang-ho smiled wryly. "Lots already died besides you."

"I'll die here! Me too!"

"Gutsy." "......!"

Kang-ho chugged the rest like water, tossed the empty flask aside. "Turn back now, head to Seoul—no hesitation. You're too valuable to die."

"Wh-what about you?!"

"Me?" Kang-ho cracked his neck. "Gotta hold here."

Ka-rrrrng!

The silver fox roared fiercely. Monsters froze, eyes on them.

"U-uuuh..."

Sang-jun backed away slowly. The fox swelled double in size.

Then hellish battle erupted.

Ka-rung!

The fox ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠moved like a ghost under the man's command. Survivors shouted.

"The Beast King's here!"

"Rally here! Break through!"

They gathered. Sang-jun halted his flight. Beast King?

Yes, he'd heard. Five heroes from recent Seoul battle, one was...

"Choi... Kang-ho."

They called him Beast King. Heart pounded with sudden courage. He gripped his sword anew.

The brutal fight raged. The fox was otherworldly—a holy white light shredding the dark horde.

"Push in! Break through!"

"Follow the Beast King!"

Tide turned. All survivors united for Incheon's final stand.

Sang-jun swung wildly. Hands tore open—didn't care. Mana depleted, heart aching—ignored it.

Glancing afar: a shadowy humanoid led the horde. Kang-ho charged it, body cloaked in blue mana. Beastly roar echoed.

Thus ended hellish Tuesday. Dawn broke improbably.

"Hah... hah..."

How many beasts slain, comrades lost? Amid the blur of swings, something touched his skin.

"Ah...!"

A snowflake. A fat one landed on his cheek. It fell indifferently on this hellscape, heralding New Year.

Kya-ruk, kyaak!

Countless dead. Corpses familiar now, horrifying him. White breath vanished into snow. Bodies, bloodstains—all buried indifferently. Amid the alien scene, relief washed over.

Heart hammered, teeth chattered anew. Last night's life-or-death felt like a lie; world hushed in quiet.

Afar. Kang-ho stood atop the white city. Now visible: black leather jacket, bloodied. Body lacerated like minced meat.

Yet he stood unfazed, staring ahead. Before him, a dying beast lay prone.

Sae-aek, sae-aek.

Huge—bigger than five oxen. Fox-like, once-glorious silver fur now dull gray. Only sapphire eyes remained, fixed on him.

"Seolhwa."

He spoke. "Hwa. You did well."

Hand to her brow. Soft fur. Sae-aek, sae-aek. Her body cooled.

Kang-ho knelt. "Sorry."

Folded forehead to hers. Rubbed gently. Stroked like lulling a child—or farewelling an old friend.

Seolhwa gazed with sapphire eyes. Kiiing, king. They crinkled like half-moons. Head drooped against him.

"I'll miss you terribly."

Kang-ho bowed his too. Snow whipped fiercer.

Shwaaaa!

Her vast form scattered like snowdrift. Flakes dispersed, shrinking. Finally, a single egg remained—sapphire-glowing, fist-sized.

Kang-ho stared at it on his knees, motionless for ages.

Sobok, sobok.

By then, corpses and blood vanished under pristine snowscape. He cradled the egg tenderly and rose.

Sang-jun watched it all, rooted.

Thud, thud.

Soon, Kang-ho staggered forward slowly. "Told you to run?"

"Yes..."

"Nobody listens." He brushed past, trudging on.

Sang-jun stared at his back. Blizzard veiled him. Something boiled in his chest.

Unbidden, he shouted. "Th-thank you!"

That lonely hero's silhouette felt achingly desolate. Loss beyond imagining, like bereft of his dearest.

All he could do: scream till hoarse. "Thank you!"

Thus, he vanished into history's mists.

29 years ago—the day the Beast King defended Incheon.

Suddenly, snow began falling in Seoul too. White flakes dusted the face of that young Sang-jun, now gray-haired and wrinkled. No longer the greenhorn yelling to die together—he was the Disaster Management Bureau Director.

"-That was the first day I met him."

"......!"

Daeyoung unclenched his fist unconsciously. The director's words rang vividly real.

"Old folks' tales are boring, huh? Please understand—it's 'cause we're from the old days."

"N-no, not at all."

The director smiled. "These days, times have changed; us old survival fighters are relics. But we still need to remember that era. At least in the Disaster Management Bureau."

"Yes."

Daeyoung bowed sincerely. Long story, but the tea stayed warm. The director glanced out the window.

"Snowing."

Seoul's sky snowed too. Fat flakes poured.

"Looking forward to working with you, Officer Shim."

"An honor, Director."

The director smiled, opened the window, and reached out. A cold flake landed on his fingertip.

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"Wonder how cold this winter'll be."

Kang-ho murmured, watching snow pile on his palm. In Gangwon-do's Cheorwon, the harsh winter had begun.

Chapter 3: Please Understand, I'm from the Old Days

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