Kim Byeol-ha slurped up the last bit of ramen, patted his full stomach with satisfaction, and stretched out on the cracked floor with a lazy groan.
"Finally... nap time," he mumbled happily.
He closed his eyes.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three—
His back spasmed violently from the hard, uneven floor.
Byeol-ha opened one golden eye, glaring accusingly at the ground like it had personally betrayed him.
"...This is not optimal," he muttered.
He pushed himself up and looked around properly for the first time.
The house was... functional, sure. It kept the rain off your head. Mostly.But there was literally no place to sleep.
The only 'beds' were two frayed, flattened mats that Bit-na and Eo-ra shared with their sons.A single broken couch, missing half its stuffing, sagged sadly against the wall.A tiny corner had been cleared for Tae-yang — their eldest brother — who lay comatose on a cot made from scrap wood and cloth.
Byeol-ha's eye twitched slightly.
When they were kids, back when life was tough but manageable, he and Tae-yang would squeeze together on a single mattress, sharing kicks and punches all night.Bit-na and Eo-ra had shared their own mat, giggling and whispering until they passed out.
But now... now there were too many people and too little space.The world had fallen apart.No more soft beds.No more cozy rooms.
Just survival.
Byeol-ha stood up, brushing dust off his jeans, and cleared his throat.
"I'll be back," he announced, already heading for the door.
Bit-na immediately dropped the dishes she was washing and grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie.
Her hand was tiny and trembling against the worn fabric.
"Oppa..." she said, biting her lip.
Byeol-ha smiled lazily and patted her head, smoothing her messy hair down.
"Relax," he said. "I'm not running away."
He tucked his hands into his pockets, looking around the small, crowded room again.
"We have to survive here," he said simply, like he was discussing the weather. "And to survive, we need better living conditions. We need real beds, real blankets. Good hygiene, good clothes. Good food that isn't expired instant ramen. A roof that doesn't collapse if someone sneezes too hard."
Bit-na stared at him, overwhelmed.
Byeol-ha opened his mouth to continue his Very Important Lecture on Survival 101—
"Oppa," Eo-ra interrupted flatly from behind him. "We know. Just go already. But come back early."
Byeol-ha blinked.
Bit-na, meanwhile, had slapped her hands over her ears dramatically.
This... This was their ancient, unbreakable family tradition.Every time Byeol-ha started talking, he could and would go on and on until he either solved world peace or put everyone to sleep first.
"Still the same motormouth," Bit-na muttered, half-laughing, half-crying.
Byeol-ha laughed under his breath, feeling oddly light.
Some things never changed, even if the world shattered around them.
He ruffled Bit-na's hair again and gave Eo-ra a cheeky two-fingered salute.
"Be right back," he said, and slipped out the broken door into the ruined streets.
Back inside, Kim Hee-chan and Kim Hwa-jin watched the door swing shut, wide-eyed.
"Umma..." Hee-chan asked cautiously, tugging on Bit-na's sleeve. "Who was that strange ajusshi?"
"Yeah," Hwa-jin added, "he looked like a ghost but smelled nice."
The two little boys tilted their heads in unison, identical confused puppies.
Bit-na exchanged a glance with Eo-ra, who was already sitting back down, running her fingers over her tied blindfold absentmindedly.
Bit-na smiled, wiping her hands dry on her ragged apron.
"That 'strange ajusshi' is your uncle," she said warmly."Our beloved troublemaker."
Hwa-jin looked skeptical.
"He's an uncle?" he said, wrinkling his nose. "He's too pretty."
Hee-chan nodded seriously.
"Uncles are supposed to be old and grumpy."
Bit-na and Eo-ra both laughed quietly.
Bit-na scooped Hee-chan up into her arms, hugging him tight.
"He's not old," she said. "And definitely not grumpy. He's just... Oppa. He always caused trouble when we were little."
"Big trouble," Eo-ra added dryly, lying back against the wall with a small smile. "You'll see soon enough."
The boys looked at each other, wide-eyed, clearly excited by the prospect of future chaos.
Meanwhile, outside, Kim Byeol-ha strolled casually down the street, hands still jammed in his pockets, scanning the broken city like he was on a lazy Sunday walk rather than a survival mission.
A house?
No. Too unstable.
A hotel?
Collapsed.
An abandoned mall?
Hm. Promising. Might have supplies too.
Byeol-ha yawned, golden eyes gleaming faintly under the cracked city lights.
He wasn't planning anything huge.Not yet.
Just enough.
Enough space for his family to breathe without huddling together like refugees.
Enough food that the kids didn't have to chew on ramen crumbs.
Enough clothes so they didn't freeze when winter came howling.
Enough to live, not just survive.
That was the real start.
He smiled to himself, stretching lazily.
"Mission: Operation Upgrade House," he muttered under his breath. "Starting now."
And if anyone — monsters, thugs, cultists, random god wannabes — tried to get in his way?
Well.He was Kim Byeol-ha.
The son of Life and Death themselves.
And if they didn't behave, he could always "accidentally" turn them into fertilizer.
With a whistle on his lips and trouble in his heart, Byeol-ha disappeared into the night.
----
Sitting at the center of a polished but battered long table in the Oblivion Guild headquarters, Baek Ryeo-woon lazily tapped his fingers against a dented laptop.
The building itself looked half like a military base, half like someone had tried (and failed) to make a stylish apocalypse bunker.
Still, it had one important thing: coffee machines that didn't explode.
Baek Ryeo-woon leaned back in his chair, his black short hair a mess, red eyes half-lidded with boredom.
He looked like he belonged on a magazine cover for "Men Who Could Crush You Without Trying" — tall, terrifyingly fit, broad shoulders, tight waist, and eight-pack abs that even gods might envy.
In short: he was basically walking, breathing hormonal chaos.
His communication device buzzed.
Without even blinking, Ryeo-woon answered it.
"Yeah?"
A familiar, slightly panicked voice answered.
"Guild Leader!" shouted Park Ji-hwan — one of his vice-commanders, a guy who was perpetually three seconds away from an ulcer.
"There's an indicator! District 8! A major dungeon's about to open! It's gonna be a scramble — every guild's gonna send their elites!"
Ryeo-woon yawned.
Loudly.
Park Ji-hwan kept talking like a man possessed.
"If we don't get there first, the other guilds will take all the good loot! We need to mobilize immediately—"
"No need to panic," Ryeo-woon drawled, stretching lazily like a jungle cat."Let them run around first. We'll clean up after."
He clicked off the call without even waiting for a reply.
Guild leaders didn't have time for anxiety attacks.
They had more important priorities — like napping.
Still, rules were rules.
With a sigh that spoke volumes about how unfair life was, Ryeo-woon stood up and changed clothes, tossing off his casual wear and pulling on his standard combat set — camouflage tactical pants and a black, tight-fitting shirt that looked like it had been sewn directly onto his absurd body.
He checked his weapons out of habit. Sword, knives, gauntlets.
Not that he needed them.
He was an SSS-Grade Awakened.A Returnee who had survived the First Calamity.Ranked 1st in the world — not that he ever bragged about it (mostly because it was boring to be right all the time).
He pulled on his gloves and cracked his neck.
"Let's get this over with," he muttered.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the general direction of District 8...
Kim Byeol-ha was utterly, completely, fantastically lost.
Again.
"I swear I walked straight," Byeol-ha muttered, staring blankly at the same burnt-out post office he had passed fifteen minutes ago.
He spun in a slow circle, hoodie flapping, as if the landscape might somehow change if he glared at it hard enough.
"Nope. Still the same depressing wasteland," he grumbled.
He flopped down on a chunk of broken concrete, creating a dramatic dust cloud, and pulled out a spiritual apple from thin air.
"At least I have snacks," he said cheerfully, taking a big bite.
Munching thoughtfully, he reviewed his situation:
Mission: Find new house for family.
Progress: Negative 30%.
Map skills: Tragic.
Current location: Probably Hell, maybe Purgatory, but definitely not anywhere helpful.
He sighed dramatically into the dusty sky.
"Maybe the real house was the friends we made along the way," he said solemnly to a passing crow.
The crow ignored him.
Rude.
Back at Oblivion Guild HQ, Baek Ryeo-woon led a small squad through the streets of District 8 — efficiently, quietly, like a well-oiled machine of doom.
The atmosphere crackled faintly.
Dungeon energy was building up in the air — a thick, sticky kind of magic that coated the skin and made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
"We're close," Ji-hwan said, glancing at the detectors.
"Yeah," Ryeo-woon said casually, surveying the area.
And that's when his sharp gaze caught something... odd.
Down the ruined street, casually sitting on a piece of debris like he was waiting for a bus, was a boy — no, a young man.
Black hair, gold eyes, hoodie, ripped jeans.
Radiating zero sense of urgency.
At all.
Ryeo-woon narrowed his eyes.
In the middle of a pre-dungeon zone?
That wasn't just odd.
That was suspicious.
He raised a hand, signaling his team to pause.
"What's a civilian doing here?" Ji-hwan muttered.
"Either he's lost... or bait," Ryeo-woon said, voice low.
He motioned for two scouts to circle the sides.
From a distance, Kim Byeol-ha noticed the small group of heavily armed, intimidating people approaching.
He squinted.
"Huh. Are those guys here for me?" he muttered around a mouthful of apple.
A normal person would've panicked.
Byeol-ha?He lazily waved at them.
"Yo," he called casually. "You guys know where the nearest grocery store is?"
Half of Ryeo-woon's team immediately assumed he was insane.
Ryeo-woon himself blinked once, slowly.
"Who are you?" he called out, voice sharp.
Byeol-ha grinned, tossing the apple core over his shoulder.
"Lost traveler. Occasional snack enthusiast," he said brightly.
Ji-hwan edged closer to Ryeo-woon and whispered, "Maybe he's... y'know... touched in the head?"
"Or hiding something," Ryeo-woon muttered back.
He stepped forward slowly, muscles coiled and ready.
Byeol-ha watched with mild interest, leaning his chin on his palm.
Wow, he thought lazily.They're treating me like I'm a boss monster. Flattering.
When Ryeo-woon stopped a few feet away, red eyes burning, Byeol-ha finally stood up properly and dusted off his jeans.
He held up both hands in the universal "I'm harmless" gesture — which, ironically, coming from the son of two gods, was almost comedic.
"Relax," Byeol-ha said lazily. "I'm not looking for a fight."
Ryeo-woon didn't lower his guard.
"You're in a restricted area. Identify yourself."
Byeol-ha tilted his head thoughtfully.
Identify myself?Son of Life and Death, Slayer of Demigods, Breaker of Realms...Yeah, probably not the best intro.
"Name's Kim Byeol-ha," he said instead, casually.
"And you are...?"
"Baek Ryeo-woon," came the crisp reply.
Byeol-ha blinked.
That name...
Sounds nice
Oh.Oops.
Byeol-ha scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"Well, Mr.," he said with a lazy grin, "unless you've got a map or a really good teleport skill, you're not very useful to me."
Ryeo-woon stared at him like he couldn't decide whether to be amused, offended, or worried for Byeol-ha's IQ.
Ji-hwan made choking noises behind him.