I PICKED UP A CHILD IN A DUMPSTER-Chapter 70: SURVIVE.

"No," he muttered under his breath, not slowing. "Don’t worry."

The window flickered faintly in response.

And he kept running.

Si Hon didn’t slow down.

The forest still blurred past him in streaks of white and gray, breath misting in front of his face, feet’s crushing through the thin layers of snow. The cold bit at his cheeks, but the steady rhythm of running kept his body warm.

(Oh, and this passive of mine.)

He looked beside him.

「Stabilize Body Heat — Reduces feeling of cold slightly: is active.」

Then his eyes lowered briefly.

To the ring.

The one that was once a ring that glowed a random color, that now a faint black, glossy substance coiled snug around his finger, almost lazily. It pulsed once.

Then again.

Alive.

"...Hey," he muttered between breaths. "You. The clingy wrapped on my finger thing."

The small, slightly dark window flickered into existence beside his hand while he was still running.

「아빠...? What is it?」

He swallowed.

The wind howled through the trees, but his voice came out quieter than he expected.

"...Would you leave me... or would you stay with me forever?"

For half a second, there was no response.

The window blinked out.

His chest tightened slightly.

Then it reappeared.

「(｀へ´) Me stay with 파파.」

The answer was immediate. Firm. Almost offended.

Si Hon exhaled a small laugh he didn’t realize he was holding.

"...I see."

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

He didn’t know it.

But the ring felt the curve of that smile.

Felt the warmth behind it.

And pulsed softly.

(...I should name it then...) He thought to himself.

He ran in silence for a several minutes, and after that... his mind was unexpectedly distracted. Naming something meant acknowledging it. Giving it shape. Giving it place.

It was a small, barely noticeable if someone wasn’t looking closely. Squishy. A little clingy... Emotional in a strange, awkward way.

It called him 아빠 without hesitation. Like it had decided that role for him before he even agreed to it.

(Mimi.)

The word floated through his thoughts.

Small. Soft. Easy to say. It fit the way the window’s rounded letters looked when it spoke. It fit the way it reacted— excited, worried, stubborn.

But then—

It said it would stay forever.

Not just cling.

Not just attach.

Stay.

That wasn’t something small.

That wasn’t temporary.

That was steady.

한결.

(Han-Gyeol.)

Unchanging. Consistent. Constant.

Something that remained.

His steps didn’t slow, but his expression shifted slightly— less frantic, more thoughtful.

Small... but constant.

Soft... but unchanging.

"...Yeah," he murmured. "I’ll call you... Han-Gyeol Mimi."

The name left his mouth into the cold air, carried by the frost and breaths.

"Do you like it?"

For a second, nothing appeared.

Then the small black window exploded back into view beside his hand.

Brighter than before.

Shaking slightly as if vibrating.

「(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) 파파파파파파파파파파, Approve!」

The repeated ’파파’ filled the window, almost overflowing its borders.

Si Hon let out a quiet huff of laughter despite himself.

"Calm down."

But he didn’t wipe the smile off his face.

And wrapped around his finger— was Han-Gyeol Mimi. That pulsed once.

Warm.

Satisfied.

As the forest swallowed them both, running toward a lair that waited in the dark.

***

(Hana, or perhaps Arven?)

Hana woke up slowly— not with a gasp, not with a scream, but with the strange, weightless confusion of someone surfacing from a deep water.

The first thing she felt was warmth.

Not the biting, dry cold of the Snowfall Mountain.

Not the suffocating frost that clung to Arven’s caves.

Warmth.

It wrapped around her like invisible hands, pressing gently against her skin, soaking through her bones. It was unnatural. Controlled. Contained.

Her lashes fluttered open.

Stone.

Everywhere.

Hana slowly pushed herself upright and looked up.

The ceiling arched high above her, not carved cleanly but hollowed out of raw rock, jagged in places as if something enormous had clawed through the mountain itself.

The walls were uneven slabs of dark stone, damp in the creases, faint veins of mineral glittering under torchlight.

Unlike crafted brickwork, this was primitive. Ancient. A chamber shaped by force rather than design.

She walked toward the iron bars and looked outside.

And the light—

Torches burned beside each iron-barred door embedded into the rock walls. Not normal torches. The flames burned steady, unmoving, almost too perfect— casting amber light that did not flicker despite the lack of airflow. The fire did not smoke.

It simply existed.

Each cage curved slightly with the natural shape of the cavern corridor, iron bars thick and blackened, bolted directly into the mountain stone itself.

The ground beneath her was uneven rock smoothed only by time and pressure, not by tools. Faint claw marks was on some areas near the entrances.

This was not a dungeon built by humans.

It was a lair modified to hold something alive.

Hana slowly walked backward.

Her white dress pooled softly around her legs.

She looked down.

The fabric was familiar.

Simple. Light. The same dress she had worn the day she first met him.

"...Isn’t this..." Her fingers trembled as she touched the hem. "The dress I was using... when I first met Dad..."

The realization came in fragments.

If she was wearing this—

Then she wasn’t wearing her jacket.

No fur lining. No layers. No protection against mountain air.

Her head snapped up.

"Wait!" she blurted, panic rising instantly. "I’m going to be so cold! Wahhh! (⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)"

But—

She stopped.

Because she wasn’t cold.

Not even slightly.

The warmth wasn’t just surrounding her.

It was embedded into the space itself.

The air here was thick with heat— steady and even, like a perfectly controlled chamber. No drafts. No damp chill. No breath fogging in front of her face. It was warmer than Arven’s cave ever was. Warmer than the tower.

It felt engineered.

As if something enormous and powerful preferred comfort.

"Warm...?"

Her voice echoed faintly against the curved stone.

The torches hummed softly.

And then—

She noticed she wasn’t alone.

At the far corner of the cage, where torchlight barely reached, something slumped against the rock wall. A figure.

Still.

Too still.

Hana froze.

Her breathing quieted.

Step by step, she moved across the uneven ground. The warmth followed her. The iron bars loomed at the side of her vision. She could see other cages lining the curved cavern hallway beyond— identical, silent, closed.

Who else was here?

Her bare feet made soft contact with the stone as she stopped in front of the figure.

Long green hair.

Familiar shoulders.

A hand resting loosely at their side.

"Arven?"

No response.

She crouched slightly.

"Arven?"

A pause.

Then—

Eyes opened.

Slowly.

Pale and unfocused at first, then sharpening as awareness returned.

They landed on her.

"Hana?"

Her voice was hoarse. Disoriented.

But alive.

The torches burned steadily beside the cage.

And deeper within the cavern system, far beyond the curved corridor of stone cells— Something shifted.

Something large.

Breathing.

Hana didn’t even hesitate.

The moment Arven’s eyes opened, she dropped to her knees beside her and pulled her into a tight hug, one hand instinctively covering her own mouth to stop herself from making too much noise.

"Arven...?" she whispered, voice shaking.

Arven winced but lifted a hand anyway, pressing it weakly against Hana’s back. Alive. Warm. Real.

Hana pulled back just enough to look around again.

The corridor beyond the bars stretched in a slow curve, cages lining both sides like storage compartments. Empty. Or maybe not empty— just too dark to see inside properly.

"Where are Boreas and Nivalis...?" Hana muttered under her breath.

Her eyes searched frantically. No white fur. No low growl. No heavy paws scratching against stone.

Arven’s hand slid up to Hana’s head, fingers tangling gently in her hair.

"I saw a glimpse when we were dragged..." Arven said hoarsely. "The three Ursa Canis... they put them somewhere else. Another cage. Or deeper."

Dragged.

The word made Hana’s stomach drop.

Before she could respond— Footsteps.

Heavy.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Something stopped in front of their cage.

Metal screeched.

The bars slid open.

And it crouched.

The thing that entered had to duck slightly under the arch of the cage. Its body was massive— thick arms like a tree trunks, shoulders hunched forward, gray fur matted and uneven across its back. Its chest rose and fell with rough breaths. The smell hit them next.

Wet fur.

Iron.

Old blood.

Its teeth were jagged, uneven, when it opened its mouth slightly, strands of saliva stretched between them.

A Munches.

Up close, it looked worse than any glimpse from afar. Its eyes weren’t fully animal. There was something thinking behind them. Something that understood.

It turned its head slowly toward them.

"Human," it said.

Its voice was deep and broken, like rocks grinding together.

"Follow... or die."

Hana felt Arven’s body tense.

Neither of them moved.

The Munches straightened slightly and scoffed, a harsh, rumbling sound in its chest. Then it walked toward them.

Each step made the stone floor tremble faintly.

Arven leaned closer to Hana and muttered under her breath, barely audible.

"Fuck... why is this day so unlucky... if I could just access my Sy—"

She didn’t get to finish.

The Munches’ hand shot forward.

It grabbed Arven by the hair.