Human empathy is a shallow thing—we tend to feel the pain of a paper cut on our own finger more acutely than the stab wound inflicted on another.

Therefore, truly understanding another’s wound is, for the most part, an impossible proposition.

Yet there exists a method to understand another with infinite closeness: sharing the same wound.

Only then can a person look upon another’s suffering with true clarity.

Empathy, compassion, and understanding—all become effortless.

Jung-woo was no exception.

“…I’m sorry.”

The apology came before thought could intervene.

He understood the devastation of watching a loved one become a harbinger of catastrophe.

He erased the suspicion that had lodged itself in a corner of his heart.

And in its absence, guilt flooded in to fill the void.

Henry laughed heartily and shook his head.

“There is no need to apologize. Anyone would have had reason to suspect.”

“Even so. Even so, I’m sorry.”

“If anything, I am relieved. I should say I’m grateful for your understanding. Shouldn’t I? Were it known to the outside world that out of billions of people, it was my family who became the host of a Zero Gate, there would have been no shortage of those reading profound significance into it. It is something I have suffered over in silence all this time.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Knowledge of the otherworld remained far more unknown than known.

The family of an Ex-grade hunter had become the host of a Zero Gate.

More people than one might expect would leap to the conclusion that “Born S-Ranks turn those close to them into parasites,” rather than dismissing it as a cruel coincidence.

The clamor of such ignorant voices typically preyed upon public anxiety, wearing the mask of truth.

It was upsetting.

Jung-woo felt as though he had become one of them.

“…I shouldn’t have been one of them.”

“You are exceedingly harsh on yourself.”

“It’s the position I’m in.”

“I, too, am in a position to forgive you quite readily. Let us put an end to the apologies.”

Henry clapped Jung-woo on the shoulder.

“Don’t let me become too uncomfortable. If you still feel remorseful, then hear more of my story. That should serve as adequate compensation.”

Jung-woo smiled wryly, then nodded.

As Henry said, an apology should take the form the recipient desires—honoring their wishes was the right thing to do.

Charlotte Miller, wife of the magician Henry Miller, was born Charlotte Windsor—the daughter of a merchant family in the English port city of Bristol.

Henry had first met Charlotte the day he followed his father, who worked as a laborer for the Windsor family, to their estate. As children that age invariably do, he quickly befriended her and had his heart stolen.

The budding romance between a merchant family’s privileged daughter and a rambunctious boy carried a certain fairy-tale quality.

Like any clichéd tale, they grew up together and their bond deepened, weathered conflicts born of differing family backgrounds, eloped together in the name of love, and ultimately earned their families’ blessing—not a single element was missing from the formula.

By all rights, it should have ended with “and they lived happily ever after.”

As it was for many who lived through that era, the problem, ultimately, was the Millennium Shock.

“I awakened at a remarkably early stage. It was a fortunate thing. Thanks to that, I was able to slaughter the monsters threatening to overrun Bristol in a single stroke, and protect my family, my house, and my hometown.”

The changing era that marked his forties began auspiciously enough.

The world was in chaos, but his formidable abilities allowed him to protect much of what he held dear.

Beyond even that, they elevated him to the status of a hero.

Henry Miller, laborer of Bristol, became England’s finest knight.

There were many days spent rushing about to uphold that honor, and at one point, he became the greatest guardian spanning all of Western Europe.

But immense honor carried with it immense responsibility.

The 2000s, before the Millennium Shock had stabilized, were an age of turmoil where disaster could strike anywhere, at any time.

Henry Miller traveled abroad frequently.

Through it all, Charlotte Miller had always been by his side.

Since the safest place was beside Henry, the two of them touring Western Europe together became routine for the middle-aged couple in their forties.

That was when the problem arose.

“It was during the London Shock. I had just resolved the situation in Paris and was taking a rest, so I had to depart in haste.”

“You couldn’t bring your wife along, I imagine.”

“The site of the Shock was dangerous. Under normal circumstances, I would have had her stay in a nearby city, but conditions did not permit it.”

What followed was easy enough to predict.

“…While you were gone to stop the London Shock, the Zero Gate erupted.”

“Indeed. I became a hero, but I failed to be a good husband.”

Jung-woo let out a sigh of lamentation.

Henry’s composure only deepened it.

This had happened a full twenty-nine years ago.

Jung-woo could not begin to imagine how many times Henry must have chewed over his regrets before he could speak of it so calmly.

To speculate superficially… well.

If I had been in his place, would things have been different? If I had been more careful, would it have changed?

Beyond that, he might have felt as though he were weighing honor against family.

A dilemma where only one of the two could be saved was, by its very nature, that cruel.

Regardless, when it came to his desperation regarding the Zero Gate, he would yield to no one.

Jung-woo understood why he had come all this way to meet him.

He had reason to draw a clear line between friend and ally.

Still, Jung-woo had to suppress the bitterness welling up inside him.

‘Can she even be saved?’

The more he envisioned the future, the more doubt crept in.

Quite apart from recognizing his desperation, reality had a rather cruel aspect to it.

‘Even Hunter Chun Jun-ho barely managed.’

Even an S-Rank hunter—a man who had accumulated that much physical mana, mental fortitude, and experience—could not endure even five years before his mind was consumed.

Even considering the aftermath of having the parasite torn out, the point stood.

It was because he was Chun Jun-ho that he had been able to return alive.

That was an indisputable fact.

Even if they were to advance on the Paris Zero gate, the likelihood that she—who had lived as a host for twice that duration while in the state of an ordinary person—would ultimately be rescued and spend her remaining years with him seemed infinitely low.

Perhaps his demeanor had betrayed him.

“I have never hoped for a grand miracle.”

Henry said with a gentle smile.

“Where this journey of mine must ultimately arrive. I have simply pondered that and reached my answer.”

It was a statement that omitted a great deal, and precisely because of that, it felt all the more genuine.

Jung-woo nodded.

Henry said,

“Thank you for hearing my long story.”

A bitter taste lingered in his mouth.

Perhaps it was best described as a kinship born of shared suffering.

Jung-woo’s feelings toward Henry had changed considerably.

Shamefully, despite having harbored such suspicion, the single fact that his purpose was infinitely similar to his own had rapidly closed the emotional distance between them.

Fortunately, Henry was generous enough to understand and accept this.

Beyond that, he was a man in whom consideration was ingrained.

Perhaps feeling apologetic for bringing up such heavy matters, Henry did not mention his wife again afterward, instead discussing necessary business or everyday topics.

It was a time of growing closer to each other on a human level.

To what degree, one might ask—enough to converse about Se-gi.

Which meant Henry had become a truly close person to Jung-woo.

“I’m thinking about sending her to an academy soon. I want to let her try various things and find what she enjoys or excels at.”

“That’s fine too, but at this age, letting her play to her heart’s content would be just as good. It’s an age better suited for discovering dreams than for building identity.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course, it’s not as though I know much about it. I’ve never raised a child.”

When Jung-woo spoke of parenting, Henry listened with genuine sincerity.

It was because he was exceedingly fond of children—which made it all the more puzzling that he had never had any of his own, prompting Jung-woo to ask about it once.

The answer he received was, once again, an amusing one.

“We treasured our time together too much. We wanted to savor the honeymoon feeling just a little longer, and kept putting it off one day after another until we were in our forties. Even after all that time together, every day still felt like the first.”

Deep pride was visible in his face as he smiled, his beard twitching with amusement.

For that reason, the word that described Henry Miller to Jung-woo became “romanticist.”

That day was no different.

They had spent the morning handling business at the Association, and in the afternoon came to the mountains to survey the Erosion Zone with Henry and Jun-ho, discussing the Zero Gate expedition.

In between, they shared quite a few personal conversations as well.

A rather amusing point was how well Henry and Jun-ho got along.

Henry, who looked every inch a gentleman, and Jun-ho, who looked every inch a vagabond, had unexpectedly bonded over motorcycles.

Watching them laugh uproariously and find common ground through tales of motorcycle trips made one wonder if all men simply ended up that way as they aged.

At any rate, once that moment had passed, Jung-woo prepared to leave.

“Ah, I’ll be heading back a bit early today. I need to pick up a gift I ordered for Se-gi.”

“Ah, that magic wand?”

“Yes, it’s supposed to arrive today, so Se-gi has been beside herself since last night.”

Jung-woo’s expression was somewhat fatigued.

And not without reason—the previous night had been a true lesson in a child’s tenacity.

Did you know?

An excited child, while blood rushes to their head, does not tire.

They are a species that maintains 100% condition right up until every last drop of stamina is depleted and they shut down with a pik!

Yesterday’s Se-gi was exactly that.

She stomped her feet over how she would use the magic wand, then proceeded to expound on just how magnificent it was for a full two hours.

—Daddy, you know the magic wand~? When it comes tomorrow, what magic should Se-gi do first~?

—Daddy, when I use magic I have to transform too~ and I’m sooo worried about what my transformation spell should be~

—Daddy! I have to use combo magic with Hae-dal, and you know when you mix fire and water~? Steam happens~!

Jung-woo felt something rare: genuine fear.

She had spoken on the same topic for two hours without a single repeated subject.

If he failed to answer every question with his utmost effort, Se-gi’s indignant shout of ‘Daddy, are you even listening to me properly!?’ would come flying back, and he would feel as though his life force was being drained away.

Jung-woo was only liberated when Se-gi, who had been so beside herself with excitement, drifted off to sleep with a kkamuruk at some point.

This morning as well, the question of what time the wand would arrive came up no fewer than ten times.

If he were even slightly late, Se-gi’s extreme fury would be waiting, so he had to hurry his steps.

He shook out his body loosely.

Just as he was about to leave,

“If you’re picking up a gift, may I tag along? I believe I could be of assistance.”

Henry asked with a mischievous grin.

His eyes were quite sparkling, and Jung-woo found himself intrigued.

“Do you have something in mind?”

“I may not have raised children, but I frequently visited nearby orphanages with gifts every Christmas. This field is my specialty.”

Without erasing the smile from his face, Henry rose from his seat and pressed down his bowler hat.

The showmanship was palpable as he gave his cane a hwiririk spin and planted it on the ground.

Henry said,

“Hunter Shin Jung-woo, do you know what it means to give a child a gift?”

“Uh…”

“It means presenting them with a dream. Just as much as the gift itself, the moment of receiving it is what matters.”

It was a persuasive statement, and Jung-woo nodded as though spellbound.

Henry stepped closer and said,

“Come along. I’ll teach you the show.”

Such words might have been an affront to Ho-jong, but Jung-woo thought:

Right now, Henry felt approximately one hundred and thirty times more reliable than Ho-jong, who had taught him parenting while claiming to have raised three daughters.