"Is it... your birthday?"
Ingrid asked quietly, her voice catching in the winter air as she stood beside her daughter. The cold breeze carried faint echoes of music and laughter from the nightclub behind them. The city's celebration was in full swing—neon lights danced on the pavement, and fireworks crackled in the dark sky like colorful scars.
Ingrid had pulled Kim Yeon out, away from the noise, away from the people. Yet, she could not pull away the silence growing between them. Kim Yeon stood rigid, her expression unreadable, but her eyes... they were glassy with quiet fury.
Ingrid remembered everything. Her goals. Her career. Her name. Her life as a cold-blooded professional, a woman shaped by the ruthless nature of stockholding markets as Head Manager and secrecy.
But one thing slipped through her fingers like sand in a storm—her own daughter's birthday.
Kim Yeon Mikage. Sixteen today. The night of January 1st, 2026. A new year that had begun with celebrations, cheers, and a countdown. Fireworks bloomed above like flowers of flame. People wished each other happiness and fortune. And yet, amidst the cacophony of joy, Ingrid had also forgotten something else.
Her own birthday. Now age 36. Born on January 1st, 1990. A date long buried under years of duty and deception.
"Wait! Hold on, Kim Yeon!" Ingrid reached out, desperation laced in her tone.
But her daughter turned away. Cold. Distant. Her face was that of someone who had expected disappointment and received exactly that.
From the shadows nearby, unseen, Shan leaned against the alleyway wall. He and Eva had left the club early but had doubled back after hearing raised voices. Shan listened, arms crossed, jaw tense.
"Sigh... you blew it, woman," he muttered to himself, more pity than contempt in his tone.
"You gonna do it right?" Eva asked beside him, her presence sudden and subtle.
Shan blinked. "I thought you left."
Eva leaned casually against the graffitied cement wall, smirking with that knowing glint in her eye.
"Admit it. You like her."
Shan startled. Just a flinch, but enough to confirm her hunch.
"When did you get that idea, Eva?"
"Just a feeling. And besides, I think you're gonna do it right."
"Hey, you think dying is easy? It's not—especially if you're a first-timer. I can still count how many times I've died."
"Oh yeah? Try me," Eva teased, nudging him.
Silence fell. Then, softly—
"Boo...."
Eva caught herself. Regret traced her expression.
"Is it that bad... even before the camp?" she asked, her voice low.
"666," Shan replied quietly.
Eva's eyes widened. "You… what?"
"I died six hundred and sixty-six times. What made you think I survived that camp and was called tge best of tge best when they thought I knew tge enemies layouts, plans, movements, all of it, Eva?"
His words carried weight beyond their meaning. A heavy truth, drenched in pain and memories.
"Since I was an infant when I was found by the priestresses and priests in the temple near the running river, then in the age of 5, I was kidnapped. Then... you and I both know. We were trained to kill. Child mercenaries."
Eva looked down. The memories clawed at her.
"But you were saved... and yet you came back for the rest of us. For me," she whispered.
Shan didn't respond immediately. He stared into the city's lights, his mind drifting back to that cursed place.
"Why did you come back?" Eva finally asked, her voice trembling. "You were saved by the Malaysian army. We were thirteen. Why did you come back for us?"
Shan turned his eyes to her.
"You," he said. Simple. Honest.
"Eva, you saw me as your older brother. What kind of man would I be if I left you behind?"
He took a breath. "I died twenty more times for you. Ten were attempts to reach you. The other ten… were when you died, and I had to die too, to bring you back."
A beat of silence. Then, with reverence—
"On the twenty-first, I saved you completely. After that, you cried when we had to separate. And now... it's been twelve years."
Eva chuckled softly, nostalgic sorrow dancing in her voice. "My boo. I remember everything now. They called me the Viper of Deception… because I knew how to cheat and backstab the system."
She looked at him, her voice thick with emotion. "And you? You were called the Cheater of Death, Death Changer... . I still remember what you named your power when we were ten."
"Deathborn," Eva said.
Their eyes met in the silence of the alleyway, and she smiled sadly.
"Fate really brought us back together, didn't it, boo?"
Shan ruffled her hair, smirking. "Turn that frown upside down, Eva."
"Hey! I just got my hair washed this mor—!"
Her complaint was cut short by his kiss. Soft, gentle, honest.
"No matter what happens, Eva… promise me you won't do this alone. Got it?"
Eva blinked. Then nodded, her lips trembling.
"I wish you were my real older brother, boo."
Shan pulled her close. "Me too. I wish you were my real little sister."
Above them, two sparrows flew across the night sky—together, in quiet harmony.
He held her, protectively, tenderly. In that moment, if anyone dared hurt her again, he knew. He would kill without hesitation.
---
2:00 a.m. — Ingrid's apartment.
The hallway light was dim. Ingrid stood outside her daughter's locked room, knocking gently. Her hands trembled.
No answer.
She held a small cake, the frosting already melting slightly from the room's warmth. On it, a single candle burned. Flickering. Fading.
She sat down on the floor, beside the door.
Silence.
Inside the room, Kim Yeon lay curled under her blankets, her own little cocoon against the world. She stared at the wall, headphones off, tears sliding quietly from the corners of her eyes.
Outside, Ingrid blew out the candle. A tear traced her cheek.
"Huh?" she whispered, touching her face.
More tears followed. Her chest heaved.
"Eh... kffh... eh, eh, eh... I wish… I wish…"
Her voice broke.
"I wish she had a better mother. I don't deserve to be hers."
Kim Yeon heard it. All of it. Her mother's sorrow seeped through the cracks in the door. She pressed her hand to the wood.
"I wish I was never born a mistake," she murmured through choked sobs.
Two broken hearts. A locked door. A silence that finally spoke volumes.
---
Chapter 30 — End.