After the short-lived fever—or perhaps delusion—of Rift Exploration that swept the globe in the early days of the Rifts, nations around the world poured astronomical sums into studying how to close them.

Attempts sprung up across the globe reminiscent of the Age of Scientific Expansion in the 18th century.

The most promising model was the Chernobyl Model used in Russia.

When the Chernobyl nuclear plant melted down and the catastrophe shook not just the region but the entire nation, the Soviet Union, which then ruled Chernobyl, attempted to contain the disaster by constructing a massive concrete sarcophagus over the plant. After sacrificing countless workers and engineers, they succeeded in sealing it.

Compared to that, Rifts were considered easier adversaries.

Rifts didn’t emit radiation that killed people simply by proximity, and humanity now had more advanced science and technology than during the Cold War. On top of that, the absolute size of a Rift resembled that of a narrow building about 49 floors high.

That being the case, it was expected that modern modular construction engineering and new materials could easily cap it.

The first Rift cap was completed in Kalinin, Russia.

On the day of the completion ceremony, which the Russian president attended, a farce unfolded.

The cap was destroyed, and a swarm of monsters inside launched a devastating attack on the humans present.

For the chief planner and project lead of the cap plan to die in that attack was, at least for him, probably a stroke of luck.

The second method shared the same basic framework but was, to some, seen as more rational.

That method was to bury the Rift in earth.

Their logic was simple: if a Rift was a passage linking Earth to some other world or planet, then filling that passage with massive amounts of soil—as if it had never existed—would prevent monsters from passing through.

Unlike the first method, this required less sophisticated equipment or materials, making it more accessible to developing countries. The most well-known case came from an unrecognized nation west of the Sahara.

Scorned and ridiculed by citizens of developed countries, they calmly and diligently piled a mountain of earth in front of the Rift.

An even greater sacrifice took place on the other side of the Rift.

Despite periodic monster attacks and rampaging otherworldly lifeforms, heroic construction workers began to pile a similarly sized mountain of earth on the Rift’s far side.

They knew full well that once the operation began, they’d be trapped on the other side forever with no return.

They had no choice.

If they couldn’t close the Rift, their already struggling nation would fall like so many others.

With blessings from shamans, the mountain was collapsed.

Unknown heroes saw the soil pouring in from the far side and detonated explosives to collapse the gray-white earthworks they had built.

Their attempt seemed successful.

Until, three months later, a colossal monster emerged, smashing through the earth.

That was probably the first known appearance of the Kraken-type.

Reports had already surfaced from India, but information from India at the time was considered unreliable.

No news ever came from those who had sacrificed themselves on the far side.

When the Rift collapsed, so too did the nation unrecognized by the international community—it vanished from the map.

The third attempt was spearheaded by China, a country then still powerful and wealthy, and with more options than the West.

As the saying goes, history repeats itself. In the new world order dictated by the Rifts, China repeated its old ways.

Just as Emperor Qin Shi Huang had built the Great Wall to secure borders, the Chinese government tried to build an impregnable fortress on the far side of the Rift.

They denounced the Western standard of Kill Zones as a cowardly, passive, and despicable tactic, boasting that not even a single Rift creature would set foot on their indivisible territory.

There’s no need to elaborate on what became of that plan.

It failed spectacularly.

Fortunately, China had a distinctly Chinese consensus that allowed them to quiet criticism even in the face of wasted money, manpower, resources, and total failure.

As expected, the Rift-Great-Wall was replaced by the Kill Zone method they had once mocked as petty and disgraceful.

The fourth method was developed by the United Kingdom.

But, as always, they tested it not on their own land, but in someone else’s country.

Due to strict information control and the defensive measures taken up until just before the war, the truth was never fully revealed—but according to a French journalist, a powerful nuclear explosion occurred inside a Rift located in a Commonwealth nation flying the Union Jack. The resulting shockwave blasted back into the host country and caused catastrophic damage.

Thus, every human attempt to close or seal the Rifts had failed.

However, after the war began, rumors quietly spread through those with limited access to international communication networks that India had succeeded in closing a Rift.

No one knew exactly how the Indians did it, but those with satellite access began to realize it wasn’t just idle talk. And when communications were barely restored mid-war, the method was finally revealed.

That’s how the Rift in Jeju was closed.

And not just Jeju.

Rift closures were reported from Poland, Thailand, Paraguay, and Uruguay.

There’s even word that the U.S. succeeded in closing one, but given their remaining power, the truth is difficult to verify under their information control.

Still, Jeju’s closure is fact.

I saw it with my own eyes.

But I don’t know how they did it.

How they closed it, what they used—I don’t know.

But someone here does.

“...We entered Jeju’s Big Hole—the Rift—to close it. Yeah. Everyone was filled with purpose.”

We were standing beneath the eaves in front of the fortune-teller’s shop.

A summer downpour was falling.

I suggested we move somewhere else, but Woo Min-hee shook her head.

And so, under the eaves, where raindrops trickled steadily, she began to speak truths I hadn’t known.

*

“We don’t know exactly what the Rift is—even those of us who fight it. But after long years, trial and error, and ink written in blood, we reached one conclusion: the Rift may be the internal body of some unfathomable being.”

As she watched the rain form a tiny stream over the cement-covered street, Woo Min-hee shared one of the most closely guarded secrets.

“The Rift is vast. Endless. The U.S. thought it was another planet and even tried to fire rockets to measure internal curvature—but it was futile. It was infinite. An endless gray plain. But somewhere in that plain, there were passages leading into bottomless chasms.”

“The crevasse?”

Woo Min-hee nodded, unsurprised.

“Those crevasse-like cracks inside the Rift naturally drew attention. In an otherwise meaningless expanse of gray, they were the only places worth exploring. And the expedition found something there.”

I already knew what it must be.

“The Rift’s nervous system.”

Woo Min-hee nodded.

“It was definitely something like a nerve.”

She closed her eyes, as if recalling the sight.

The rain intensified.

Rattle-rattle-rattle—

It was a harsh squall.

Far down the storm drain, water mixed with unidentified trash was backing up.

Filthy water lapped at the end of her prosthetic foot, but Woo Min-hee didn’t budge. She kept her eyes closed and continued recalling.

“There were countless strands stretching up and down. Many of them connected from floor to ceiling, but around them, tendrils resembling cilia extended vertically, searching for a match. Yerin said they looked like parasitic worms.”

Yerin.

A name I hadn’t heard before.

But clearly someone important to her.

Just saying the name brought a rare, genuine smile to her face.

“Imagine it, senpai. Thousands—no, tens of thousands of worm-like strands squirming, reaching out with cilia to find their pair, to connect as one.”

Woo Min-hee’s already pale face turned even whiter.

Eyes still closed, long lashes trembling, her expression conveyed something beyond fear or disgust—an unspeakable feeling.

She opened her eyes.

“People went mad just from looking at it.”

“...”

“Only those who could withstand that sight managed to operate in there. And even then, not for long. Only those with the strongest minds or thickest nerves could last.”

“Couldn't it be destroyed?”

Woo Min-hee shook her head.

“A reflective field. No, something even stronger protects it.”

“Stronger than a reflective field?”

“Only the powers of Awakened like us could manipulate it at all.”

“Manipulate?”

“Yeah. We discovered it there. Every time we moved those grotesque worms with our powers, the shape of distant Rifts changed.”

At last, I understood.

How to close the Rift.

And it was completely different from what I expected.

Not destruction. Not slaughter. Not annihilation. Not revenge. But “manipulation.”

A disappointingly anticlimactic answer—but I didn’t let it show.

Woo Min-hee wasn’t finished.

“Kang Han-min senpai is probably at the center of that Rift’s nervous system. Even when we were in Jeju, he was always there.”

“...”

She turned from looking at the past to looking at me.

Her soaked bangs clung to her forehead as she brushed them back with her sharp, hook-like fingers and spoke.

“Manipulating the nerve system is dangerous. Remember that neural device in my lab—the one that nearly killed you?”

I nodded.

“This is worse. Far worse. It hits the manipulator with unbearable shocks. So many kids died trying to move those nerves, their mental strength drained. Or they were summoned. You know what happens to the summoned, don’t you?”

“...I do.”

“And that’s not all. Senpai, every time we manipulate the Rift, the nerves summon a guard. Monsters no one’s ever seen appear and attack the intruder. So many kids and Hunters have died there.”

As her story grew longer, the truth became more vivid.

“...”

I genuinely appreciated her telling me what I hadn’t known about the Rift.

It was priceless information.

But at the same time, I felt a growing question about her intent.

What was Woo Min-hee’s purpose?

“Senpai.”

She hadn’t always been a cautious person.

Like most kids, she was once reckless, impulsive, and often got scolded.

Loss and experience made me cautious.

Caution sometimes gets mistaken for cruelty—or inhumanity.

I accept that.

At the height of my caution, even pure goodwill couldn’t escape my suspicion.

If I were still that cautious, my life wouldn’t be what it is now.

Rebecca and her daughter would’ve turned to dust, their weapons the only thing left. The Defender siblings would’ve been bug food in front of the mansion where their father hanged himself.

The Incheon Hunters would’ve remained strangers forever.

And I wouldn’t have any friends on the message board.

Woo Min-hee is no exception.

No—she’s someone I should approach with the most caution.

Considering her past, her skills, her power, and her personality.

When I left the battlefield, entered the bunker, and resumed contact with Seoul—her past had been completely erased.

Some knew her past, but no one who would tell me.

We spent a lot of time together.

Almost like family in Room 803.

We had adventures in Gyeongju too.

But if someone asked me what I really knew about Woo Min-hee, I couldn’t answer easily.

I knew nothing.

I never asked. She never offered.

That’s changed now.

It seems the turning point was my decision.

I’m going into the Rift.

I intend to meet Kang Han-min.

To hear what he has to say.

That is my top priority now.

Woo Min-hee probably had a vague idea of this already.

On the train, she had the chance to hear my feelings—my inferiority complex, my disdain, my disappointment, and expectations about him.

She also knows that he is the last hope I cling to.

She spoke the truth.

And again, she speaks.

“Don’t go into the Rift. You’ll die if you do.”

Her desire.

But I know.

Not through any special power or insight.

Just from time spent together—her lonely, wistful eyes told me she wasn’t being completely honest.

I stared at her in silence, with a touch of reproach.

Hunters like us tend to have sharp instincts.

Those without them are already dead.

Woo Min-hee likely had instincts just as sharp.

Indeed—

“...Haa. Fine. I know words like that won’t stop you. I’ll be honest.”

The rain was still harsh.

A single droplet ran down the eaves and fell onto her softly glowing eye—but she didn’t blink, just kept her eyes open and let it fall.

Her voice continued, rising out of my instinctive irritation.

“That man, Kang Han-min—please don’t kill him.”

I never intended to kill Kang Han-min.

If his plans don’t align with mine, I’ll leave and return to my bunker—to become humanity’s final witness.

But something was strange.

Woo Min-hee’s eyes were filled with conviction.

“I get why you’re looking at me like that. But once you hear what he has to say...”

“...”

“You’ll kill him.”

A low thunder rumbled in the distance.

The rain intensified.

“Excuse me?! It’s pouring—what are you doing out here?!”

The shop worker spotted us and rushed over.

“Don’t just stand in the rain like that—come inside already!”

The conversation wasn’t over.

We both knew that.

After resting briefly in a cramped back room, Woo Min-hee let out a sigh and spoke again.

“...There was someone I could never replace.”

Her eyes, empty and vacant, stared into ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) the air.

“Yeo Yerin. My favorite junior.”

In the house of a fortune-teller who claimed to see the future, the gray-white past slowly filled the space between us like rain pooling on the floor.