Why had I forgotten about the Portal?

At Yun’s chilling remark, I swallowed hard but couldn’t take my hand off the photograph. Ah. How could I have forgotten this existed?

Why had I only cared about the creatures, about the war, about Kyle?

Looking at my superior’s expressionless face, I forced out a voice.

“Why did you take this photo?”

Yun only moved his eyes.

“It was taken on the first day of the war.”

“Was there a reason?”

“Why? Did something else come to mind?”

He answered my question with another.

I hesitated and closed my mouth. The words floating inside me refused to settle into order. And it wasn’t as if I had remembered everything. I still couldn’t recall the beginning or the end.

The beginning and the end on Earth.

Of course, Yun didn’t seem to have any intention of helping. He’d called me here just to interrogate me.

I bit my lip and answered in a subdued voice.

“I’d like to compare what the Commander tells me with my memories.”

“Ah, good.”

He seemed satisfied with my suggestion.

“An efficient proposal. Saves me from doing the same work twice.”

Yehyeon had said he’d return in two days, at night.

He’d been away briefly due to a short hospital stay, and on top of that, it was audit season—busy times.

Yun warned me that once Yehyeon came back, he’d hear the story directly, so until then I was to rest quietly at the cabin. Don’t go far—wait nearby, that was the order.

“Just focus on your rehabilitation. Maybe practice your shooting for once.”

“I really do practice diligently almost every day.”

“Not just sword practice. I said shooting.”

So he knew I mostly trained with a sword.

I clicked my tongue silently and turned away.

Then I obediently said I would, and went back to the cabin.

***

When I heard Yehyeon had returned, I went to his house around ten that night.

And there he was—sitting on the sofa in a T-shirt.

“You came?”

“Good evening.”

Yun strolled lazily out from inside, while Yehyeon blinked at me with sleepy eyes.

For a moment, I was startled by how much like a college student my superior looked, but I quickly pulled myself together.

I bowed and handed over a paper bag from a famous bakery nearby.

“Sorry for dropping by so late. It’s nothing special, but please share this.”

“You didn’t need to bring anything. Thanks. I’ll enjoy it.”

“Sit down.”

While Yehyeon looked inside the bag and thanked me pleasantly, Yun firmly pointed at the sofa.

I sat down obediently.

The conversation didn’t begin right away, just as Yun wanted. My superior, looking even thinner in a black T-shirt, strolled slowly to the kitchen. Clearly, he meant to cut the walnut pie I’d brought. Reading the mood, I hurried after him, and Yun followed, grumbling under his breath.

Because of that, the start was slightly delayed.

Finally, after Yehyeon and I sat with plates holding a slice of walnut pie each, the atmosphere settled into one ready for talk.

Yun let out a small sigh and sipped his coffee.

“Coffee at night will keep you awake.”

Yehyeon scolded mildly while chewing on pie.

Yun set down his cup with a blank look.

“We’re not about to have a sleep-inducing conversation, are we?”

Fair point.

I smiled bitterly but kept eating the pie. The bakery’s fame was justified—the crispness was exceptional.

Apparently, Yehyeon liked it too, because he kept chewing slowly.

Then he threw a fastball out of nowhere.

“So, where should we start?”

The walnut nearly went down the wrong way.

“Or do you want to speak first, Hilde?”

These people sure had a knack for cutting right to the core without warning.

I quietly set down my fork, glanced at the seniors sitting opposite me, and thought for a moment.

During the two days I’d waited for Yehyeon, I’d spent time sorting the memories that had resurfaced—those that burst forth when I faced Colton, fragments that reappeared in the subway, and the scattered shards that returned as I went about daily life.

To be honest, I had wiped away tears a few times.

With my lips pressed tight, I finally managed to answer.

“I’ll start first.”

“Sure. Whatever’s comfortable.”

“Where should I begin?”

“The beginning and the end.”

Yun said it in a low voice.

Of course he picked the one question I couldn’t answer. I gave my superior a bitter smile.

“I don’t remember the beginning or the end. That is, I can’t recall how I ended up on Earth or how the war began.”

“I see. Then do you at least know what you are exactly?”

“Col... I mean, before I met Falcon, I was already aware that I wasn’t human.”

Kyle had always made that clear.

In my memories, Kyle blended well with humans—his appearance wasn’t much different, so mingling among them wasn’t hard—but he always kept a mental distance. Even though he looked almost identical to them apart from eye color, he stubbornly insisted we were of a different kind.

After all, we had already discovered how to achieve eternal life before arriving on Earth.

To be more precise, we had secured the privilege of never aging.

“The privilege all humanity has dreamed of since the dawn of history.”

“So those stories on the internet about high-ranking officials conducting human experiments weren’t all nonsense.”

Yun muttered without taking his eyes off me.

“Not that it’s surprising. Do you remember anything specific about the experiments?”

“No. But I do remember spending obsessive amounts of time in a white place.”

And that I often played games there.

But I had no memories of being experimented on—or of conducting experiments. Maybe those things did happen and I just can’t recall them. Considering that Erich called me ‘Prometheus,’ and that Jaeyeon had screamed similar things in a frenzy, it fits.

I even remembered Kyle arrogantly tossing his black hair back over his shoulders and talking about our ‘benevolence toward mankind.’

Yun nodded faintly. Yehyeon kept eating his pie without any change of expression.

He must really like it...

“Any other distinctive traits?”

My superior’s cold voice brought me back to focus.

“That can’t be all. By that logic, even the Badgers aren’t human.”

“Yes. In fact, we had one truly defining difference from humans...”

That was something I’d only remembered after waking up in the hospital ward.

More precisely, it came back while riding in Yun’s car on the way here. By then my senses had completely opened. My sharpened perceptions no longer overwhelmed me.

And as my senses returned, I finally understood what Colton meant by “your kind’s greatest trait.”

Now, I could feel where my kin {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} were.

“No human has ever fully understood this. As far as I remember.”

“Of course not. It’s a sense we don’t have. So can you feel where that Kyle bastard is now?”

“If he’s far away, I can only sense the rough direction, but...”

Still, it wasn’t like I couldn’t feel him at all.

I silently pointed behind my seniors.

Both Yehyeon and Yun turned their heads at the same time.

Then, simultaneously, they turned back toward me.

A moment of silence settled over the living room. Yehyeon didn’t seem particularly surprised, but Yun narrowed his eyes, studying me.

The superior’s gaze held no warmth as he spoke in a chilling tone.

“I’ll have to open you up and take a look.”

“Commander!”

I immediately turned toward Yehyeon in SOS.

“Please save me.”

“Yun, no.”

Yehyeon scolded succinctly.

“That’s a crime.”

For a short while they went back and forth—Yun insisting he’d just open me up and close me again without issue, Yehyeon firmly refusing to allow it.

Their voices faded into background noise as I sank into thought.

So, we’d come this far. Now the realizations that followed from these facts began to surge inside me. Since my senses opened, memories had poured back like a receding tide. When I followed those memories, the scattered puzzle pieces clicked together.

The humanoid creature that had faced Yehyeon in the video—the blazing reversed eyes, the dark shroud swirling around its body. The humanoid creature under the subway, writhing back to life as it regained consciousness.

I spoke slowly.

“Commander.”

“What is it?”

“When you confronted the 10th-class creature, did you already know about the Titans?”

Yehyeon looked at me quietly with those large eyes.

The ticking of the second hand struck my ears. The high ceiling made the space feel strangely cold.

I sat still, waiting for my superior to break the silence.

There was always a scent of cool wind in this house.

Finally, Yehyeon spoke in a voice impossible to read.

“Only in fragments.”

Even the next words carried no emotion.

“My father drove me into that position.”

“What?”

Yun raised his voice.

He frowned, glaring at Yehyeon sitting beside him.

“What kind of bullshit is that supposed to mean?”

“Sorry. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up. You never asked, so I kept quiet.”

“Why bring up Lee Seunghyun all of a sudden? What’s the connection between that brat and him?”

“Hilde knew my father.”

That much was true.

The problem was, I only remembered that Lee Seunghyun had been a soldier recruited from Korea. I knew we’d met face-to-face and spoken—but beyond that, nothing.

Maybe if I heard more about Lee Seunghyun, more memories would surface.

As I watched the seniors exchange words, I spoke honestly.

At my request to hear more about Lee Seunghyun, Yehyeon’s face stiffened slightly.

“All right. I’ll do my best. I don’t actually know him well myself...”

“I apologize for asking something so personal.”

“It’s fine. I was planning to tell you someday anyway...”

Even as he said that, Yehyeon hesitated.

The pale man pressed his lips together, then finally began to speak slowly.

“I’ll keep it simple—about my father.”

A quiet snort from the side.

Focused on Yehyeon, I turned in surprise at Yun’s next words.

He lifted his coffee cup and said,

“Behold—the legend of Daddy Issues, opening soon.”

“Yun!”

I cried out in horror.

“That’s out of line!”

“I know.”

“It’s fine.”

He always says that whenever my father comes up. Yehyeon closed his long eyes, smiling faintly as he waved a hand.

Yun sipped his coffee as if nothing had happened.

Watching them, I suddenly felt uneasy about hearing what would come next.