The golden hour cast long shadows across the narrow road as Jaemin leaned casually against the matte-black van, one boot resting against the tire. The last rift raid was finally over.

  No more contract work, no more temporary teams, no more noise.

  Just peace.

  "So, Taeha…"

  He asked, eyes on the horizon.

  "You got something to do today?"

  Yoon Taeha was stretching out his sore arms, still in his black Coreborn vest and jacket. His breath fogged slightly in the cool air. He paused, then smiled, bright as ever.

  "Oh? Nope, I'm free today!"

  Jaemin nodded once.

  "Hmm. Well then—buckle up."

  Without another word, he pushed off the van and slid into the driver's seat. Taeha blinked, confused for a second.

  "Hyung-nim… can you drive??"

  "I have a license, Taeha."

  Jaemin muttered with a scoff, adjusting the rearview mirror.

  Still a little sus, Taeha opened the back door to climb in, but—

  "Oi."

  Jaemin slapped the passenger seat.

  "Here."

  Taeha froze mid-step.

  His little brain went into full spin cycle.

  "What does he mean by here? Why here? The front? Right beside him?? Hyung-nim never lets anyone sit here! Wait—is this what it feels like to be the chosen one—"

  "Are you coming or not?"

  "Y-YEAH!"

  He scrambled in, slamming the door shut beside him. Jaemin wasn't even looking at him—he just shifted into gear and drove off like it was no big deal.

  The van rolled down the quiet roads, smooth and steady. No jerks. No panic stops. No GPS required. Taeha stared for a moment, slack-jawed.

  "…Hyung-nim's driving is perfection."

  Jaemin didn't answer, but his lip quirked slightly in amusement.

  "Where are we going, Hyung-nim?"

  "A little celebration. We finished our raids."

  "But… it's only the two of us…"

  Taeha replied softly.

  Jaemin glanced sideways for just a moment.

  "Doesn't matter."

  And that was all he said. But somehow, Taeha's chest tightened just a little. The rest of the squad—people they fought with, ate with, trained with—had all disbanded after their payout. Not even a goodbye.

  But Hyung-nim didn't just leave. He was still here.

  Still driving him somewhere.

  To Jaemin, with a little focus, the world got slow around him. The air bent at its edges. The sound of the van engine faded into a dull hum, like a low-pitched breath. Everything moved more slowly now—it could've been from his recent level up, or maybe just the weight of everything he'd been through, everything he'd become.

  The drive was mostly silent.

  No music. No chatter. Just the road.

  Until Jaemin eventually slowed to a halt.

  They'd stopped somewhere—off-road, hidden by narrow cliffs. The sky had begun to bleed from grey to indigo, and the scent of salt was thick in the air. Before them stretched an empty beach, untouched, dark sand still damp from the tide. It wasn't part of any public coast. No people. No lights.

  Just silence. And the sea.

  Jaemin quietly removed his jacket and tossed it into the back seat. The metal of his silver belt buckle caught the faint light as he stepped out of the van, his boots crunching into the sand and gravel. Taeha followed after, his face lighting up the moment the wind hit him.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  "WOAHHH!!!"

  Yoon Taeha gasped as the wind rushed through his hair.

  "It's so nice here..."

  "Is it?"

  Jaemin said softly, stepping beside him.

  He stared out at the crashing waves, his hands deep in his pockets. Then, his gaze shifted sideways. His tone didn't change. It was calm. Barely above a whisper.

  "Then why are there tears in your eyes, Taeha?"

  Yoon Taeha flinched. He hadn't even realised it. But sure enough, his eyes were wet, his vision blurry from emotion. The wind wasn't cold enough to blame. It had come out the moment the ocean came into view. Like a dam cracking.

  "A-ah… no reason, Hyung-nim…"

  He tried to brush it off, wiping his sleeve across his face.

  But Jaemin looked at him. Fully. Not the side glances or passing looks he usually gave—but completely, entirely focused.

  "So you won't even tell your brother?"

  Yoon Taeha blinked.

  He turned to look at Jaemin, dumbfounded. His breath caught in his throat. Because Jaemin wasn't cold or teasing like usual. He was smiling. A faint, honest smile.

  "What, you call me Hyung-nim every time."

  Jaemin said, still facing the sea.

  "Doesn't that make you my younger brother?"

  That was all it took.

  The breath that Taeha had been holding in for days—weeks, even—finally gave out. His legs felt weak. His lips trembled. His chest collapsed into sobs.

  "I'M SCARED, HYUNG-NIM!!!! I DON'T WANNA DIEEE!!"

  The cry tore out of him like an open wound. No more hiding. No more strength.

  He wailed like a kid, shaking, fists clenched against his sides as the weight of everything he'd buried cracked open at once. He stood there breaking apart until his knees buckled—until he could feel something solid.

  Jaemin's arms.

  Strong. Quiet. Unmoving. Just enough to keep him from falling completely.

  A smooth scent filled his nose—clean, like cedar and metal, familiar somehow. Jaemin said nothing at first, only holding him firm as the sobs came, one after another.

  As much as Jaemin liked Yoon Taeha, he wasn't a person who liked hugs. Not even a little. But this… this wasn't about him. It was the only thing that came to mind.

  "You won't die, Taeha…"

  Jaemin whispered. His voice was steady. Calm. The same one he used to silence the battlefield, now holding together the heart of a boy.

  He held Taeha's shuddering form a little tighter. Then slowly, he moved his hand, gently placing it over Taeha's back, right at the base of his spine.

  There was no flashy light.

  No dramatic sound.

  Just a quiet surge of warmth spreading from Jaemin's palm like a ripple across still water.

  TING!

  [Active Skill: Core Regeneration]

  [Fixes issues related to cores]

  This fixed Yoon Taeha's unstable core—quietly, without him even noticing. The soft warmth that had passed from Jaemin's palm through his spine settled deep into his body, correcting the flow, stabilising the chaotic energy that once surged uncontrolled. It couldn't heal everything. No, it wasn't nearly enough to fix his mother's condition.

  For that, Jaemin needed more time. More power. He needed to level up the skill. Refine it. Grow it.

  But for now…

  This was enough.

  Jaemin slowly let go.

  His hands dropped back to his sides, and he took a soft white handkerchief from his pocket. Wordless, he offered it.

  "Here."

  Taeha hesitated, still catching his breath between soft sobs. He took it. His hands trembled.

  "You're… way better than my brother, Hyung-nim…"

  He muttered while wiping his face.

  Jaemin didn't say anything at first. But there was a small curve to his lips. Faint, but warm.

  "Well, you're my younger brother now."

  He finally said, voice low.

  "So don't hesitate in speaking with me."

  PAT!

  Jaemin casually slung an arm around Taeha's shoulder. Not tight, not forced—just enough to say he was there.

  Yoon Taeha didn't speak.

  His breath still hitched a little, his cheeks still red, eyes slightly swollen. But his steps were steadier now. The fear hadn't disappeared completely—but something deeper had taken over.

  Admiration. Respect. Trust.

  He still feared Jaemin—but it was the kind of fear reserved for something greater than oneself. The kind of awe a soldier had for his commander. The kind of loyalty a younger brother had for someone who finally stood still long enough to hold him.

  "Hyung-nim…"

  Taeha started, voice soft.

  "Mm?"

  "Let's go somewhere. To a meal… Just us."

  Jaemin looked at him for a moment. Then nodded.

  Without a word, the two turned together, footsteps side by side in the sand, walking back toward the parked van beneath the fading hues of the northern twilight.

  After a while of driving, they were finally here—SAN'S HOTPOT!

  It was nothing fancy. A small, corner restaurant, tucked between a convenience store and a rundown DVD shop. But it was perfect.

  They ordered tons of meat.

  Stacks of beef brisket. Pork belly. Chicken thighs. A mountain of side dishes. Tteokbokki. Dumplings. Kimchi stew. Even some grilled squid that Taeha had pointed at excitedly.

  And a lot of soju.

  Too much soju.

  Jaemin sat there, elbow resting lazily on the table, watching the tiny bubbles fizz up in his shot glass as the warm glow of the burner sizzled below their pot.

  PING!

  [ALERT: Harmful toxins detected. You have been DEBUFFED.]

  PING!

  [ALERT: Debuff has been overridden.]

  He sighed through his nose.

  "…Can't even enjoy alcohol without my system bitching at me."

  Across from him, Taeha was red-faced. Giggling to himself. And then—

  THUD.

  He collapsed forward onto the table, arms sprawled, breathing soft and deep. Dead asleep.

  Jaemin stared for a moment. He didn't even blink.

  "This kid…"

  A soft sigh escaped him. Not annoyed—just tired.

  The news was playing on the small TV near the kitchen window. The sound was just loud enough to catch.

  His thoughts drifted.

  "My personal rift… maybe some freelance rift jobs I can find online…"

  There weren't many left. His Covenant registration was almost complete. Just a few more stacks of paperwork. Two short law meetings. And then the final exam.

  Taeha's exam. The one that would officially qualify him as a Covenant President. Once that was done—

  Jaemin could be appointed Vice-President.

  And more importantly, Acting Commander.

  Once that happened, Rift access became open. No more waiting for public raids. No more depending on scraps. He could pick what he wanted. Hunt what he wanted. And level up however the hell he pleased.

  He took another sip of his now-worthless soju and let it roll over his tongue. Still tasted like garbage.

  He exhaled, deep and low.

  "I've levelled up quite a bit…"

  The thought lingered.

  "...Though it wasn't called for, I'm glad. At least something nice came out of the Lapis Chamber."

  The memory flashed behind his eyes.

  The chamber.

  The screaming.

  The cold. The weight. The loss.

  It still scratched at the back of Jaemin's brain—and not in a good way. Something about it refused to leave him alone.

  He looked over at Taeha—now drooling slightly into a napkin.

  And for just a moment, his expression softened.

  He didn't regret a thing.