The sun was just starting to peek its head out in the early morning.
Do-Jun stepped onto the balcony, taking in the scenery of the dawn. It was a familiar view, but it felt slightly different depending on the season and time of day. As he stretched, he watched a security guard sweep the ground with a broom. The guard exchanged polite nods with the milk delivery person. The once short-sleeved attire of people had shifted to long sleeves, and the leaves on the trees had begun to pale in color.
About five kilometers away, Do-Jun noticed a new Fissure forming. October was the month when the most Fissures appeared in a year. Sensing the size and energy of the Fissure, he roughly estimated it to be a D-grade. Around this time, civil servants in the Fissure Management Division and Hunters tended to be busier than usual.
Among those sleeping in the bedroom, Byeol was the first to wake up. Still dressed in the rabbit pajamas Yong-Yong had bought her, Byeol sleepily shuffled into the living room, munching on a Choco Pie. She had a habit of stashing a few buns under her bed as emergency rations, a quirk Do-Jun found endearing.
When her eyes met Do-Jun’s, she quickly hid the Choco Pie behind her back and wiped the chocolate smudges from her lips with her sleeve. Yoon-Hee had often told her not to eat snacks before breakfast, so she was trying to erase the evidence before getting caught.
As Byeol approached the balcony, Do-Jun smiled at her and lifted her high.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Mhm. When did you wake up, Daddy?”
As she spoke, the rich scent of chocolate drifted from her. Realizing it, she quickly covered her mouth with her hands, and Do-Jun chuckled.
“I won’t tell Mommy. But it’s better to eat chocolate buns after breakfast, okay?” he said.
“Pwomise to keep it a secwet?” Byeol confirmed.
“Promise. Now go ahead and finish the rest.”
Byeol retrieved the Choco Pie she had hidden and took a big bite, chewing happily. She glanced at Hakase and Kiriel, who were preparing their food cart. The two of them were busy replacing the old plastic cover on the stall, even at this early hour.
“Kiriel, start replacing it from here. I’ll take care of that side,” Hakase said.
Listening to their conversation, Byeol tugged on Do-Jun’s sleeve and asked, “Daddy, what does ‘weplace’ mean?”
At her age, Byeol was at a stage where she absorbed everything she heard and saw.
Do-Jun explained the term in simple words. “It means to switch or change something.”
Meanwhile, Hakase and Kiriel were already bickering loudly in front of the food cart.
“Hey, lizard! This part’s torn!” Hakase called out.
“You dumbass! It’s because you yanked it so hard without thinking!” Hakase shouted back.
“Who are you calling a dumbass, you dickhead?!”
The ever-observant Byeol was taking it all in.
“What’s a ‘dickhead’?” she asked, tilting her head.
Do-Jun sighed and rubbed his temples.
Children were simple yet surprisingly complex beings.
Han Ji-Hye, the preschool teacher with over eleven years of experience, had cared for many children throughout her career. Today’s morning class was a word-matching activity. She would show picture cards to the children, ask them what the picture represented, and have them respond.
“Everyone, what is this?” she asked, holding up a card showing a man with a fluttering cape, wearing red triangular underwear over blue tights. His muscular chest was emblazoned with a large letter “S.”
The children shouted, “Me! Me!” as they eagerly raised their hands. Ji-Hye smiled and pointed to a little girl bouncing up and down in her seat with her hand stretched high.
“Okay, Hyo-Joo, can you tell us the answer?”
“Hehe.” Lee Hyo-Joo grinned happily as she sat down.
“Ms. Han, is Superman real?” a student asked.
“Yes! Superman is a hero who appears to save us when we’re in danger. He’s always by our side.”
As the other children listened intently, a boy in the back frowned as if he was displeased. His name was Choi Young-Hoo.
Then, in a dismissive tone, he said, “There’s no such thing as Superman. It’s all made up. Adults just lie about stuff like that.”
Choi Young-Hoon’s words dampened the lively atmosphere in the classroom.
“That’s not true! Superman is real! Ms. Han said so!” another child rebutted.
“Dummy. You actually believe that? Then prove it! Call Superman here, and I’ll believe you,” Choi Young-Hoon snickered.
Ji-Hye clapped her hands to get the children’s attention. “Okay, kids, no fighting! It’s time to go outside and play. Remember, lunch is at noon, so come back before then.”
“Yay!” The children cheered and ran out to the playground in front of the preschool.
Left behind, Choi Young-Hoon watched the others play with a dissatisfied expression. Eventually, he sighed and reluctantly joined them.
The children played with a bouncy ball, laughing and running around. Choi Young-Hoon thought it was all foolish. How could they survive in such a harsh world by behaving ?
“All adults are liars,” he muttered.
The bouncy ball rolled toward him.
“Young-Hoon, toss the ball back!” shouted one child.
“Stop standing there and come play with us!” urged another child.
Staring at the ball, Choi Young-Hoon picked it up and trudged over to his friends. With a solid kick, he sent the ball flying.
“Wow! Young-Hoon’s a great kicker!”
Just as they were running around, filling the area with laughter, danger came out of nowhere as it often does.
A Fissure abruptly appeared, pulling in everything around it. The children, as if caught by a powerful magnet, were lifted into the air. Screams rang out, and then the massive Fissure swallowed them whole, its gaping maw closing as if it had never been there.
When the children came to their senses, a monster stood before them—a towering creature with green skin and bulging muscles, easily over ten meters tall. It was an ogre, clutching a club as massive as its own body.
The children were brought to a desolate forest. Terrified, they trembled, unable to understand why they had been taken to this strange place suddenly.
When one child burst into tears, the others followed suit, wailing uncontrollably. Choi Young-Hoon was no different, but he managed to stop crying shortly after. He realized that crying wouldn’t change the situation. Besides, the monster in front of them hadn’t attacked yet. It was merely approaching them, very slowly.
“Run, you dummies!” Choi Young-Hoon shouted.
However, the children were paralyzed with fear. Just like people freeze up when encountering a tiger in the mountains, sometimes even dying from a heart attack, these children couldn’t move a muscle. Even Choi Young-Hoon, pretending to stay calm, found himself just as immobilized. He was only a little less scared than the others.
Now just three meters from the children, the ogre roared.
At that moment, the last fragile thread of Choi Young-Hoon’s rationality snapped. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground.
Yet, even then, he stretched his arms wide in a desperate attempt to keep the approaching ogre at bay. It was his way of saying, “Stay back. Don’t come any closer to my friends.”
“Help... someone...” he cried out.
He thought of Superman, the hero who showed up when needed and was always by their side.
“Help...” Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision. The ogre became a blurry figure.
Then, suddenly, the sharp sound of shattering glass came from his left. Through his blurred vision, he saw someone step forward. Choi Young-Hoon wiped his eyes with his sleeve. His vision cleared, revealing a man’s back.
The man casually threw a punch. The ogre, which had been glaring at the children as if ready to kill, was sent flying instantly.
The man turned around. It wasn’t Superman.
Of course, it wasn’t. He didn’t have a cape or Superman’s trademark emblem. He wasn’t even wearing tights. He looked no different from an ordinary office worker.
“You’re okay now,” he said, patting Choi Young-Hoon on the head.
Choi Young-Hoon lowered his arms that had been stretched out wide. Seeing this, the man smiled and helped him to his feet without saying a word.
“...perman...” Choi Young-Hoon mumbled incoherently.
With sparkling eyes, Choi Young-Hoon exclaimed, “Y-you’re Superman!”
Ji-Hye, who was preparing lunch, was startled to see the children burst into the classroom in a frenzy. With tears and snot running down their faces, they clung to her and explained what had happened. They had been dragged somewhere, encountered a monster, and then a random man had saved them.
“What...?” Ji-Hye muttered in shock.
Could it have been a Fissure? But she hadn’t noticed any signs. And if such an event had occurred, there would have been an emergency broadcast.
“Huh?” Her eyes fell on Choi Young-Hoon, who was glued to the window, staring intently at the daycare entrance.
After lunch, the children participated in an afternoon activity where they drew their future aspirations in sketchbooks. Their drawings showed a variety of dreams in bright and creative ways—scientists, police officers, presidents, celebrities, and more.
Ji-Hye paused when she came across one particular drawing. It depicted a man in a white dress shirt and black tie punching a green monster. The artist was none other than Choi Young-Hoon, a child who always seemed more mature than his peers.
When I grow up, I want to be: Superman.
Hadn’t this very child denied the existence of Superman and claimed it was a lie told by adults during the morning lesson?
Ji-Hye couldn’t help but marvel at how unpredictable children could be.
After finishing his work for the day, Do-Jun went to a nearby public bathhouse that he occasionally visited to end his week. After showering, he immersed himself in a 45°C hot tub. The intense heat spread through his body. Although Do-Jun had far exceeded human limits and hardly felt sensations like hot or cold, he could at least perceive the warmth of the water.
Yes, Do-Jun could choose to experience these sensations whenever he wanted.
Do-Jun sat in the middle, with Hakase and Kiriel on either side, locked in a verbal battle of pride.
“You’re lasting longer than I expected, lizard,” Kiriel commented.
“Oh? Is this hard for you? If you’re struggling, you can leave,” Hakase retorted.
Closing his eyes, Do-Jun regretted bringing them along. They had begged to tag along, pleading to “experience it,” so he had relented. Now, he was wishing he hadn’t.
“This is great. I’m loving it,” Hakase said.
“Then let’s change the challenge. How about a breath-holding contest? For the record, I can hold my breath for a hundred seconds.”
“Only that? I can do two hundred seconds,” Kiriel said.
“Actually, I can do a thousand.”
“I can do five thousand.”
Hakase and Kiriel glared at each other, growling.
“King of Earth, please be the referee. Let’s settle this once and for all.”
Do-Jun sighed deeply.
“You two...” He pointed to the children’s pool, where kids were splashing around. “Go play over there.”