With a face full of visible wariness, Eunha stared at Taeseong. His gaze naturally shifted to her left hand, noticing she was pulling something out of her pocket.
A brush?
What she held was none other than a brush. It didn’t make sense in this context to take out a brush, but Taeseong quickly guessed it had something to do with her abilities.
First, whatever she chose to draw in this situation had to be significant. Second, the novel she was bound to—My Small and Beautiful Painter—implied such a connection.
Mangtae Harabeom, Hong Kong Gradma, and even Eunha—they all fear me. Which means the reactions of those entities toward me are completely unusual. But why do they call me “Elder”?
If there was any logical clue, it could only be this:
“I was born from human fear. Death is my father, despair my mother. I grew, feeding on terror, scattering fear into the world. For humans, I am an inevitable disaster.”
“Since the dawn of time, humans have always felt fear when facing the unknown—fear of natural disasters, fear of strange creatures, fear of untraceable illnesses, or even fear of inexplicable headaches. And I, Dueoksin, was born from such fears.”
Taeseong had consumed a core from Dueoksin’s body, devoured it, and absorbed a fraction of its power. Once called the king of spirits, Dueoksin had lost much of its former strength, but its inherent power was undeniable. If the essence he absorbed was causing these reactions, it made sense.
“Not going to answer me?”
Taeseong remained silent, staring at Eunha with unyielding calm.
The unwavering, indifferent gaze sent chills through her. Even though he wasn’t doing anything threatening, an indescribable unease crawled over her skin. His deep black eyes felt like a void, as though staring into them too long might reveal something one should never see.
“What do you think I am?”
At his question, Eunha briefly regretted her earlier actions. Had she stirred up trouble unnecessarily? Was she provoking something better left alone?
“I’m just another manager,” Taeseong said softly. “For now, that is.”
The weight of those words hung heavy in the air.
“Krr… It’s different,” Hong Kong Grandma muttered. “There’s a trace of the Elder’s scent, but it’s not the Elder.”
“You’re right,” Mangtae Harabeom added. “It’s similar but not the same. The scent of the Elder, yet not the Elder.”
“Human? Anomaly? I can’t tell,” Grandma concluded.
Leaning against a nearby jar, Taeseong turned to Eunha.
“Based on what they said, I’d guess the ‘Elder’ they’re referring to is Dueoksin. Since I dealt with that entity directly, some of its lingering aura must be clinging to me. Does that explanation suffice?”
“Hah… I suppose it does,” Eunha muttered. “Still, I’ve managed these two dozens of times, but I’ve never seen them react like that…”
“I understand.”
“What?”
“I said I understand. There’s no need for you to explain further.” His voice remained steady. “Even if I were truly dangerous, what could you do about it right now? Would you confine me to a containment chamber? In the end, it’s the higher-ups who assigned me to this position. They make the decisions; we follow them.”
“…For your information, every manager has the authority to isolate any entity they deem potentially hazardous.”
“Then use it,” Taeseong replied bluntly.
Their gazes locked momentarily before Eunha averted her eyes.
“I’m not saying you’re dangerous. It’s just… the things you’ve done so far don’t add up… Ugh, forget it. I might’ve jumped to conclusions too quickly. My bad.”
“No harm done,” Taeseong answered curtly.
Meanwhile, Mangtae Harabeom and Hong Kong Grandma continued to observe them curiously. However, whenever Grandma’s eyes met Taeseong’s, she flinched, betraying her fear. Harabeom was no different, though they both acknowledged he wasn’t the Elder.
“Let’s start the task now,” Taeseong announced.
“Y-yeah,” Eunha stammered.
As Taeseong approached the two entities, he greeted them. “Greetings. I am the new manager, Lee Taeseong.”
His tone was calm yet formal as he glanced at their forms.
“No. 0559, codename Mangtae Harabeom, classification Epsilon. No. 0560, codename Hong Kong Grandma, classification Epsilon. Is this correct?”
“Yes…” Harabeom replied hesitantly.
“Right, that’s correct,” Grandma added.
Eunha was visibly shocked. Even though the entities’ management reports mentioned that communication with them was difficult, they were now responding directly to Taeseong’s questions. She couldn’t even recall the last time she’d seen them act so cooperatively.
What on earth is Lee Taeseong? How is he making them so compliant?
Taeseong fixed his gaze on Mangtae Harabeom.
“Can you tell me what’s in that sack of yours?”
Immediately, the old man reverted to his usual refrain.
“Kikiki. Naughty children who don’t listen to their parents will be taken by Mangtae Harabeom!”
“Hmm.”
Observing the scene, Taeseong decided to ask what shouldn’t be asked.
“Why are you particularly sensitive to the word Retard? Is it related to your past? Before being confined here, where were you?”
Eunha’s eyes widened as she panicked.
“Taeseong! Are you insane? You can’t say that!”
But he pressed on.
“What’s the connection between that word and your history? Why does it hold such weight for you?”
Harabeom’s face twisted grotesquely, his body beginning to radiate a sinister aura.
“Naughty children…”
With a sickening crunch, his joints twisted unnaturally, and the atmosphere darkened with an ominous presence.
“Naughty children… calling names… Naughty children will be taken by Mangtae Harabeom…”
His chant quickened, repeating the phrase over and over.
The old man sprang forward, his sharpened nails aiming directly for Taeseong’s throat.
“Mr. Taeseong!”
Caught in an unexpected turn of events, Lee Eunha hesitated, unsure of what decision to make.
‘That crazy bastard!’
The rampaging Mangtae Harabeom was classified as Delta grade. Even among others of the same grade, he was considered to rank in the upper tier of pure combat power. If the Hong Kong Grandma beside him were to lose control as well, it would become an extremely dangerous situation.
‘Do I call for backup immediately? Or should I intervene myself?’
Before Eunha could finish deliberating, the situation had already been resolved.
The Mangtae Harabeom, who had been charging toward Taeseong moments ago, was now pinned under Taeseong’s foot, gasping for breath.
“Ugh…”
“Have you finally decided to talk?”
The overwhelming sight left Eunha stunned, and even the Hong Kong Grandma, who had been trembling beside her, didn’t dare to confront him. All she could do was cower in fear.
Snapping back to her senses, Eunha glanced at the subdued Mangtae Harabeom under Taeseong’s foot and shouted, “Mr. Taeseong! Are you okay? I keep telling you, no matter what happens, never use the word ‘retard’! Why won’t you listen? We’ll talk about this later.”
“Understood.”
Taeseong pressed his foot harder against Mangtae Harabeom’s neck.
With a bit more force, Mangtae Harabeom’s body went limp.
“I know you won’t die anyway,” Taeseong muttered.
He walked over to Mangtae Harabeom’s sack, the one slung over his back, and opened it. It was something he had been most curious about while reading through the creature management reports—what exactly was inside the sack?
“This is…”
“What is it? What’s inside? Why do you look like that?” Eunha, equally curious, leaned in.
“It’s empty.”
“What?”
Not trusting his words, Eunha peeked into the sack herself.
It was indeed empty.
“What the heck… It’s really empty…?”
Beside them, the Hong Kong Grandma, who had been trembling, called out mournfully to Mangtae Harabeom.
“Mangtae Harabeom…”
Taeseong lifted his foot from the old man’s neck and spoke in a low voice.
“Get up. I know you’re unharmed.”
Mangtae Harabeom, now wearing a resentful expression, rose to his feet and glared at Taeseong.
“You bad kid… I’ll punish you…”
At that moment, Taeseong’s face showed a mix of confusion and surprise as he stared at Mangtae Harabeom.
“That’s…”
Embedded in the old man’s forehead was the same glimmering crystal he had seen while speaking to the Dueokshin.
This time, however, the compulsion was far weaker.
‘It’s here again. But it’s much smaller than last time.’
Without hesitation, Taeseong reached for the crystal on Mangtae Grandpa’s forehead and swallowed it.
His previous experience had taught him one thing:
Though its nature was still unknown, consuming the crystal allowed him to recall memories he had forgotten.
And it made him stronger.
‘That’s fine. I’ll figure out the rest over time.’
Gulp.
A grotesque-looking old man with a disfigured face was collecting scrap metal with a sack slung over his shoulder.
His job? Junk collector.
Plagued with leprosy, his hideous appearance made it nearly impossible for him to find proper work. He scraped by, collecting and selling scraps to survive.
“Retard, Retard! He’s an Retard!”
“Ugh, it’s a leper! Gross, stay away, leper!”
The local kids, disgusted by his face, often threw stones or jeered at him while he worked. Yet, he never got angry and always responded playfully.
“You little brats! If you don’t listen to your parents and stay out late, Mangtae Harabeom will come for you!”
“Kyaaah! Run!”
The only reason the old man could maintain his positive attitude was his grandchildren. He would give his life for them, and they were the light of his world.
“Grandpa, you’re home?”
“Grandpa!”
No matter how the world pointed fingers at him, his grandchildren always greeted him with joy and excitement.
“My little sweethearts. Grandpa brought fried chicken!”
“Yay, fried chicken!”
Watching his grandchildren devour the chicken, the old man smiled warmly. As long as they grew up safe and happy, he could endure any ridicule or hardship.
One day, a drunken man confronted the old junk collector.
“You! You’re the bastard who took my Sion and Si-eun, aren’t you?”
“What? What are you talking about? I would never—”
“Don’t lie to me! You’re the only freak in this town! Where are my kids?!”
The altercation was interrupted by the police before it escalated, but the old man couldn’t shake the ominous feeling from the drunkard’s parting words:
“I’ll get you… You leper bastard…”
A few days later, the old man returned home early with gifts for his grandchildren—it was their birthday.
But when he arrived, his house was engulfed in flames.
Witnesses whispered among themselves.
“Weren’t there twins living there?”
“By the time anyone noticed, it was too late. They found them holding hands…”
The old man collapsed, wailing like a wounded animal, as tears of blood streamed down his disfigured face.
Not long after, rumors spread about a grotesque old man with a sack who captured wicked people and vanished into the night.
