Far behind the dais of Yeomra, King of the Underworld,in a shadow deliberately kept beyond the reach of light,a group of figures observed the Seventh Judgment in its entirety—not a single breath out of rhythm.
They all wore black uniforms.On each shoulder was a faint golden insignia,etched so thin it looked as though the metal itself had been shaved down.
When the cold overhead lights shifted,the insignia caught the light and flashed for an instant.That brief glint alonewas enough to provethey were authorized to be here.
Their gazes held neither compassion nor anger.They were fixed solely on verification.In their eyes was a cold, disciplined focus—the kind possessed only by thosewho already knew the outcome.
They were the Audit Division of Reapers Inc. Headquarters.An elite unit dispatched under Captain Agnes,with Agents Helena and Agatha accompanying her.
“How many souls does the Earth Branch recover in a single day?”
Agnes’s voice was low,but the moment the question landed,the air itself seemed to tighten.It was a sharpened inquiry.
Agent Helena swallowed onceand delivered the prepared response.
“According to the operations dashboard…approximately one hundred ninety thousand souls per day, on average.That is the official figure reportedby the Earth Branch Operations Center.”
“Good.”
Agnes nodded,then continued without pause.
“Then—how many souls are reincarnated?”
The rapid succession of questions made Helena’s shoulder twitch,almost imperceptibly.
“Based on the reports…”She lowered her gaze briefly, then lifted it again.“An average of approximately three hundred eighty thousand soulsare recorded as reincarnated each day.”
Agnes said nothing.Her eyes moved slowly across the numbers on the document.The silence itself signaledthat the calculation was nearly complete.
“…In other words,”she said quietly,“the number of souls being reincarnatedis double the number being recovered.”
Her gaze lifted.
“When did this imbalance begin?”
At that,Agent Agatha—standing just beside her—spoke a beat later.Careful, but without hesitation.
“Earth experienced two world wars.After the second—beginning in the 1950s following World War II—the population started increasing exponentially.”
Agatha continued, her head slightly bowed.
“In Headquarters archival records,that period is classified as‘The Earth Soul Explosion Era.’”
Agnes nodded slowly.The last trace of warmth drained from her eyes,settling into a cold, precise clarity.
“…Ultimately,”she said, as if delivering a formal conclusion,
“that was whenthe balance between supply and demand collapsed.”
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Inside the philosophy hall,Gyeongsu was locked in a near hand-to-hand battleagainst the wave of drowsiness crashing over him.
His eyelids sagged as if they weighed a thousand pounds,and his mind had already wandered halfway into sleep.
“No… I can’t… this is insane…”
A faint groan slipped out as his head tipped forward again—
Beside him, Hyeonpil calmly turned a page,a small, easy smile on his face.Dark shadows pooled beneath his eyes,yet simply sitting shoulder to shoulder with Gyeongsuseemed to give him a quiet, private sense of satisfaction.
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Of course, Hyeonpil was exhausted too.Each blink blurred his vision,and a dull stiffness lingered at the base of his neck.
Still, he endured.
Sustained by a single thought—that he was pursuing a goal he had chosen for himself—he said nothing and held on.
They had tried this countless times before,only to fail at the very endwhen Gyeongsu finally gave in to sleep.
So this time—this time, the determination to succeed no matter whatkept Hyeonpil’s back rigid and straight.
The problem, as always, was Baek Gyeongsu.
Every time Gyeongsu’s head dippedand his eyes were about to shut completely,Hyeonpil’s finger snapped forward.
Tap.Tap—
The timing was precise enough to be infuriating.
“If you fall asleep, it’s an instant failure, sir.Stay awake.”
Each time, Gyeongsu scowled.
“Hey…you’re seriously driving me crazy…”
Even as he complained,he forced his head upright again.
The two of them were following—without skipping a single word—the instructions written in an old notebookthey had found at a secondhand bookstore,one that boldly claimedyou could become immortal.
Eat nothing for seven days.From the day before Awakening Day,do not sleep for two full days.
The instructions were grotesque,yet beneath themran a disturbingly consistent logic.
“By exhausting the Triple-Time Resonance through starvation,and by denying the human body sleep,the Resonance loses the strengthto ascend to the Underworld.”
The notebook stated this without hesitation.
If the Triple-Time Resonance failed to ascend,that day’s “backup” would not be executed.And in the moment that gap appeared—the gate to immortality would open.
It was absurd.Anyone thinking rationallywould have laughed it off immediately.
And yet here they were,accepting it as truth,carrying it out exactly as written,without breaking a single rule.
This was far more than pulling an all-nighter.From midnight to midnight—a full twenty-four hours—they were required to endurea brutal, relentless ordeal.
Gyeongsu was already unraveling.
The world in front of him wavered,and his thoughts kept drifting offin directions that made no sense.
Hyeonpil, on the other hand, was different.
As time passed,his gaze grew sharper rather than duller.Fatigue was certainly piling up,yet his mind remained unnervingly clear.
One man was breaking down.The other was waking up.
It was an ominous day all on its own.
And on a day like this,not a single client came seeking a consultation.
The philosophy hall was suffocatingly quiet.That silence pressed down on Gyeongsu—already crushed by hunger and exhaustion—dragging him deeper and deeper toward the bottom.
If only someone would walk in—
Once a consultation started,he could talk for three or four hours straight,drawing on the patter he had refined over the years.Talking always brought his mind back.His body usually followed.
But reality refused to cooperate.
The silence did not retreat.Instead, it crept closer,twisting his stomach with hunger,pressing down on his eyelidsas if heavy slabs of lead had been laid across them.
The silence offered no comfort.No release.
It simply pushed him, slowly,deeper into pain.
With effort, Gyeongsu lifted his heavy headand checked the clock on the wall.
8:00 p.m.
His body had been drained long ago,and the thought crossed his mind—if he kept forcing himself like this,he might actually die.
It didn’t feel dramatic.It felt possible.
Unable to endure any longer,he turned toward Hyeonpil,who was still reading quietly beside him.
“Hyeonpil…are you okay?”
His voice cracked.
“For someone who hasn’t eaten for seven daysand hasn’t slept at all for two…don’t you look a little too fine?”
Rubbing his eyes,Gyeongsu muttered bitterly.
“You didn’t…sneak some herbal medicine or something, did you?I’ve been chewing on scraps of kimchi every day,and now I’m seriously—I’m losing my mind.”
The longer he spoke,the shorter his breaths became,his complaining slipping closer to a whine.
Throughout it all,Hyeonpil said nothing.He closed his book,lifted his gaze,and smiled brightly.
“Sir…I like kimchi too.”
A brief pause.
“And I didn’t take any herbal medicine.”
The words were simple.Clean.Unembellished.
No explanation.No defense.
They were so plainthat asking anything furtherwould have felt embarrassing.
As if reaching his limit,Gyeongsu straightened completely,trying to shake off the drowsiness.
Without warning,he suddenly grabbed both of Hyeonpil’s hands.
His grip tightened.
“Hyeonpil…I need a favor.”
Caught off guard, hands seized,and confronted with Gyeongsu’s grave expression,Hyeonpil froze.Only his eyes widened.
“…Huh?What?What’s wrong, sir?”
Gyeongsu leaned in close.His voice dropped low,thick with desperation.
“Starting now…I want you to slap my face.With your palms.Ten times.Alternate sides.Hard.”
A brief silence.
“…What???”
“Like in those dramas—when they smack someone with kimchi!Hard enough to snap me wide awake!Don’t hold back.Make it count.”
Hyeonpil froze completely,his mouth hanging open.
To strike the face of the teacher he respectedwith his own hands—that was so unbearablehe would rather be hit ten times himself.
His fingertips trembled.
With a face on the verge of tears,he spoke carefully.
“Sir…that’s…a lot more painful for me…”
