Black Badger

Chapter 221: Maya (2)

“Thought you’d be too old to recognize me.”

At Maya’s comment, I gave a faint smile.

She hadn’t changed much.

No—her face looked far more at ease. Just as she said, she had lived her second life well.

She had briefly interacted with my kin, and after that she quit politics and washed her identity clean, which was likely how she survived. Most people connected to that matter either got purged or died. Hearing she had lived well genuinely put me in a good mood.

Anyway.

“Could you stop calling me by that nickname?”

It was a very old nickname—one humans made up on their own when I first arrived on ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) Earth, because they couldn’t freely say my name or Kyle’s.

Back then I had no idea what a Michael or a Lucifer even was, so I let it slide.

But now, every time it’s used, it’s embarrassing.

I never imagined I’d be called that again.

Maya stared at me squarely.

“Why?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Now you say that?”

“It was embarrassing back then too. Ever since I fully learned human culture.”

She snorted.

Maya drank her hot Americano like cold water while staring at me without blinking.

“When I first called you that, didn’t you respond with, ‘That was another term used to refer to me,’?”

“I did. I was in a really bad mood that day.”

“It’s such a shame I’m the only one left who knows that nickname.”

Maya lifted the half-empty disposable cup and stood.

“If I call you that in front of people now, I’m the only one who’ll look insane.”

“Exactly. Thank goodness.”

“Your seniors are coming.”

She tilted her head lightly—her tone was that she had seen my face, satisfied her curiosity, and now needed to get back to her overdue work.

She carried the aura of someone who had spent long years in an office.

“I have reports to review by tonight, so I’ll be going.”

She didn’t wait for my reply.

Her name certainly wouldn’t be Maya anymore. She didn’t even bother telling me her new one before leaving the café without hesitation. I gave a wry smile as I watched her walk past my seniors.

My seniors who were returning from their smoke break.

But the group had changed.

“Hilde!”

Ami had joined them.

I broke into a long smile at the sight of the light and salt of my life hopping toward me.

“Ami.”

“Can I set Yun oppa’s profile picture to your Mario gif?”

...Hm?

I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

I blinked down at her. Ami pulled out the empty chair beside me and sat.

A moment later, Asil sat heavily with a tired gait and Ricardo lowered himself lazily into the seat.

Ami showed me her phone screen.

“You know the Hilde-Mario gif.”

“Oh. Yes.”

I knew.

Since the live broadcast, a lot had changed.

None of it good for me. I had become far too famous. Thanks to the drone, San and I managed to escape the mountain safely—but unfortunately, that drone belonged to an infamous media company. My struggle with San aired live inside the Core and millions watched it.

I was not foolish enough to expect life to remain the same after that.

I had suffered tremendously since that broadcast.

Now that a month had passed, the chaos had settled somewhat—but my life was still far from comfortable.

It wasn’t that I was unfamiliar with fame. Back when I was a knight commander, there wasn’t a single imperial citizen who didn’t know my or Kyle’s name and face.

But here, because of SNS, the price of fame was far too steep.

The Mario gifs were one of those prices.

“This one is my favorite Hilde-Mario gif.”

I looked down at it.

A Mario gif.

It started when someone made a gif of the moment I stepped across the mushroom caps.

A clip titled ‘Live-action Mario’ went viral, spawning countless variations. Versions with San removed. Versions with video game sound effects. Versions with game backgrounds edited in. A “1 hour Live-action Mario” compilation where people looped the under-1-minute clip endlessly. Versions chopped up and synced to bizarre music also grew popular.

The one Ami showed me was the flashiest I’d seen.

San had been erased. It really did look like a game—which honestly was kind of funny.

“So can I set it as Yun oppa’s profile picture?”

“I’m just... not understanding that part.”

“I was originally going to set it as my profile picture!”

I didn’t understand that either, but fine—that was at least plausible.

When I nodded, Ami widened her eyes and elaborated.

“But oppa told me instead to put it as his profile picture!”

“...What? Why?”

“Because in messenger apps, you can’t see your own profile picture.”

Ah.

“So since he doesn’t want to see something so unpleasant, if I’m really determined to use it, I should put it on his.”

“That is... exactly something your mentor would say.”

I understood.

I nodded, watching Ami’s eyes sparkle.

“You may.”

“Really? Thanks!”

“You serious?”

Asil looked genuinely shocked that I had allowed it.

Ricardo, legs crossed, snorted.

I smiled as my seniors looked at both Ami and me like we were not normal.

“Everything is fine now anyway.”

“I need to go to oppa. I must change his profile picture.”

“Paparazzi have calmed down already, huh~?”

Ricardo leaned back lazily in his chair.

“For a while you couldn’t even walk outside properly....”

“Yes. Asil-sunbaenim told me to reject all broadcasts, CF offers, and interviews, and disappear for a while—and things have quieted a lot.”

“It’ll be much better after a year.”

The one who had been in the media for a bad reason—the Police Commissioner murder case—sipped his toffee-nut latte.

Asil had given me many good pieces of advice when reporters kept sneaking into my hospital room.

I was sincerely grateful.

“The foot video and these Mario videos won’t disappear, but public interest always moves on quickly.”

“Thank you. I will buy you a meal later.”

“Forget it.”

Asil scowled as if I was being ridiculous.

“I didn’t even help you that much.”

He helped more than enough.

I was about to thank him properly when Ami—remembering the actual reason she had come—jumped back into the conversation. She’d been so distracted by the gif that she had forgotten her original purpose.

The point was: the Black Badger rookie recruitment had just ended.

And for some reason, the Personnel Director had summoned the entire TF team.

I smiled faintly and nodded.

I already knew the results were out. Kairos had shown me his acceptance message yesterday.

This summons was because of that.

“Asil, we’re heading out!”

“I’ll leave first, sunbaenim.”

Ricardo didn’t speak; he simply flicked his eyes and waved lazily.

Leaving Asil nodding behind us, we stepped out of the café. Since we were told to gather in the evening, we had extra time—so we decided to go to the meeting room early and order dinner.

Eating outside was still inconvenient for me.

I was used to strangers knowing who I was—but not to people taking photos and posting them online.

And I worried about You’s rampages.

I thought again that I’d need to request assignments that kept me out on field missions.

Thinking that, I headed to the meeting room with my seniors.

***

Forget the past.

The day he had lowered the sword that was about to slit his own throat and knelt before the enemy.

The day he kissed the ring made from the Emperor’s blood—the day that still served as the stage for his nightmares—

Kyle had heard those words.

The rigid Minister of Finance had said them.

Your life starts anew from this moment. Forget everything about your past. Remembering it will only make you miserable.

Kyle had resolved at that moment.

He would never forget the past.

He would carry this humiliation to the grave.

The day he swore loyalty to the one who forced him to kneel.

More than a hundred years had passed since then.

“I thought you’d be furious.”

At Jin Silver’s mumbling, Kyle lifted his head casually.

He didn’t brush aside the strands of hair obscuring his vision; he simply stared at the man slumped in the chair.

He saw a being who hated the Black Badgers enough to flee the Core. A man who had lived in isolation after deserting and had finally been discovered by them—and was now chewing roasted earth-whale meat.

“What is there to be furious about?”

Kyle, still with both long legs up on the table, shifted his gaze.

Reclining lazily, he continued polishing his dagger.

“It’s not like you lied to us.”

“Well, I did lie. A little. But it was pointless. It’s not like you told me the damn thing had eyes.”

“Am I supposed to explain even that?”

“I just don’t get why you bothered calling me in to check the event route.”

Jin grumbled as he chewed another bite of earth-whale.

Kyle neither responded nor looked his way. He simply stared into his own eyes reflected on the smooth blade.

The building was silent.

“Anyway, I’m glad the operation failed.”

A prisoner with impressive nerve.

But Kyle did not get angry. Jin Silver’s existence didn’t stir his temper.

With active Badgers crawling everywhere—his true targets—he had no desire to waste anger on a deserter.

Especially not when some had even turned their backs and become Badgers.

Revenge.

Something Kyle had tried to achieve—but failed to accomplish until the end of the world.

This time, he would succeed.

“He seems to have remembered everything now.”

Kyle murmured without lifting his gaze from the dagger.

“Did he look that way to you too?”

“Hilde?”

Jin’s voice sank.

A long time passed before he replied again.

“He definitely changed a lot.”

The moment his name was spoken, Jin must have lost his appetite—the clinking of cutlery stopped.

“When I faced him before, he was just kind and innocent.”

Kyle snorted.

Many people thought so.

And that was indeed part of Hilde’s nature. Kyle knew better than anyone how unbearably gentle Hildebert could be at times. He was not blind to that.

But who had succeeded in revenge?

Kyle never achieved his. At some point, he even found himself running around to protect the very person he once vowed to take revenge on.

When he realized that about himself, the despair had been bottomless.

He couldn’t show it—not with the innocent subordinates who trusted and followed him.

He couldn’t confide in Hilde either.

Back then, the two were closer than brothers. Kyle had told Hilde everything—his everyday life, his inner thoughts.

Everything except his obsession for revenge, the humiliation he felt when he laid down his sword, and the jealousy he felt toward Hilde who had succeeded in revenge.

How could he complain about revenge to someone who succeeded but lost everything?

Kyle hadn’t succeeded—but at least he still had people left.

As a foolish young knight, he had muttered complaints in some back alley. But he never again revealed his heart to Hilde.

“Innocent men don’t hand their blades to humans to kill their friend.”

Hildebert had taken revenge before he even became an adult.

A boy from the temple who had probably never harmed anyone before.

That boy cut down the sacred tree, took up the blade consecrated from it, and hunted down the murderers of the priests. He shoved his blade into their throats, stared straight into their eyes as they screamed, and with controlled, elegant motions, pulled the blade free.

After finishing his revenge, he had stood for a long time on a corpse-covered plain, drenched in blood.

He hadn’t burned the bodies. They didn’t deserve that mercy.

Only after wild dogs and birds began pecking at the corpses did he return to the temple to bury the priests.

And through all that, he didn’t go mad.

He said he felt that if he didn’t break the curse of the sacred tree, he would not be defeating the enemy but perishing with them—

that the battle would become one of mutual annihilation.

So he had risked his life to seek the World Tree.

He was someone who neither died nor went insane.

That was Hildebert Taleb.

“He can turn cold as a statue when needed.”

Decades ago, that icy cruelty had turned on Rei.

Kyle could never forgive Hildebert.

He could never stop hating him. He could feel nothing except hatred and a sense of betrayal.

It was always the same. Kyle burned like fire; Hildebert froze like ice.

“It’s finally my turn to take revenge.”

Revenge for their kin. And revenge for Rei, who hesitated when he saw the blade.

If he hadn’t hesitated, they might have won.

When Kyle learned that Rei had died because he hesitated at the sight of Hildebert’s blade—

something inside him died.

And it never revived again.

“How dare he miss him.”

Blood dripped from the hand gripping the dagger.

Kyle didn’t feel the pain. He only gripped the sharp blade harder.

“How dare he, after committing that sin.”

The dagger Hildebert Taleb had gifted Kyle long ago.

Kyle held that sharp blade tightly and stayed motionless for a long time.

Feeling the presence of that hateful being moving somewhere inside the Core.

***

“You could’ve told me.”

Ten minutes before the briefing.

I grinned at my mentor, who walked into the meeting room looking sulky.

Yun raised one eyebrow in reply.

I laughed harder seeing Ami hop toward him to grab his phone.

“I didn’t know you cared about me enough to set my gif as your profile picture. If I’d known, I would’ve gone to greet you more often.”

“Just figured it out?”

Instead of snapping, Yun sat across from me, voice shameless.

“Since you know now, come to my room tomorrow night. I reserved the lab table.”

...That was a bit much.