Ever since he was crowned with the title Savior, Kang Han-min beca a household na—not only in South Korea but globally.
And yet, if you were to ask soone what kind of person Kang Han-min really was, few would be able to give a proper answer.
After retiring, I made a conscious effort to avoid the topic of Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in. But never once looking them up during all that long, idle ti? That was easier said than done.
Maybe once or twice a year—especially on nights when I’d drunk too much—I’d feel that pleasant heat of intoxication spreading through my body and find the courage to type their nas into a search bar.
The articles were brief. Kang Han-min was portrayed as a textbook hero.
A man who feared monsters but fought for the people and the one he loved, willing to give his life.
There was even an aside about how he enjoyed Japanese ani. Maybe it was true, but to , that always felt like a forced humanizing detail.
Because the Kang Han-min I knew wasn’t like that.
Granted, I can’t claim to know everything about him.
We were from the sa school, yes—but there was always a towering wall between us. Neither of us ever tried to scale it.
What I saw was just a faint cross-section beyond that wall.
Faint and hazy though it was, it was chilling. Frightening.
He was both extre and delusional.
Years later, I saw him again—on Jeju.
It shook .
He no longer seed human. He had evolved into sothing... other.
But ever since I began looking into him again, I started to question that idea.
What if even that inhuman image was just part of the performance?
I started asking around—especially friends who’d been stationed on Jeju.
“He only shows up once in a while. But he’s incredibly powerful. He’s got this decomposition field over a kiloter wide that literally disintegrates monsters. There's no question—Savior Kang Han-min is the natural predator of monsters. Without him, we wouldn’t be able to operate at all in those extre Rift conditions.”
Regular Awakened like Lee Haru had served inside a Rift once.
Until she was struck with unexplained fever, shortness of breath, and panic attacks, she’d been classified among the main operating forces.
“I don’t think I’ve heard of him working with Na Hye-in. Back when I was going into the Big Hole, there was a rumor that she’d gotten badly injured while trying to save a subordinate and was recovering in the rear lines.”
Awakened Ahn Seung-hwan’s account wasn’t much different.
“I’ve never seen him in person. I was stationed in a stabilized zone. But I did hear things on the radio—'Savior Kang Han-min has appeared in Sector BT,' or 'Kang Han-min has eliminated a swarm in Sector BT.' That sort of chatter.”
Even among the Awakened, Kang Han-min had beco a myth.
And as it often happens with mythical figures, he’d been strictly separated from others.
“He always kept his distance. Surrounded by a small group of what they called his ‘inner circle.’ All we ever saw was him driving back monsters and clearing paths from afar.”
Do Kyung-soo, another Regular Awakened, was the type who liked rumors and got swept up easily.
He knew things even Ahn Seung-hwan and Lee Haru didn’t.
“Getting into that inner circle sounds impossible—like it’s only for top elites. But apparently it’s not that exclusive. I an, sure, it’s filled with elite mbers, but the mortality rate is absurdly high. Pretty much like being a Regular Hunter back in the old days.”
He added,
“So of the older seniors say this—‘If Kang Han-min’s there, avoid it. If Na Hye-in’s there, go instead.’”
“Because it’s more dangerous on Kang Han-min’s side?”
“Yeah, he only shows up in the most intense battle zones, sure—but the seniors always got weirdly quiet when asked why. They’d just say he treats people like tools. Like we’re disposable.”
The Awakened with the longest and most intense service record was Kim Hanna.
“...He was always surrounded by this kind of royal guard. The ‘inner circle’? Never really heard of that. Each group has their own term for his people. Group, huh?”
Kim Hanna hinted at sothing I hadn’t considered—the Jeju Awakened were completely fragnted.
Like how two soldiers from different companies don’t even talk to each other.
Anyway, from Kim Hanna’s perspective, Kang Han-min was like a cursed wish—a monkey’s paw.
Whenever he appeared, /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ the toughest monsters were eliminated, and previously impossible missions were suddenly doable.
But the mont he left, sothing always happened.
Massive monster counterattacks. Sudden accidents with no explanation. Heavy casualties.
What broke her wasn’t the mission.
It was losing her closest comrades.
“I don’t really know the details. But the seniors who trained in Seoul? They always talked badly about him. Said trouble followed him like a shadow.”
Putting all of this together, it’s clear there’s sothing about Kang Han-min that not even the title of Savior can cover up.
Sothing unsettling.
Sothing that reminded of that chilling, extre side I saw long ago.
And maybe the mo from that supposed president was what finally pushed my suspicions over the edge.
And now—
Kang Han-min was right in front of us.
“...What the hell?”
The pilot tilted his head.
“Why the hell is this bastard blocking our path?! What’s he doing?!”
Normally quiet, the pilot now couldn’t contain his rage over this navigation issue and started swearing like a madman—even with us onboard.
“This fucking bastard. Seriously.”
The aircraft jolted violently as it suddenly veered sideways.
We had to grab the handles to stay upright.
“What’s going on?” Kim Daram asked, irritated.
The pilot replied, still fuming.
“Look at that chopper! It’s deliberately blocking our path!”
I don’t know much about flying helicopters, but I could clearly see Kang Han-min’s emblem—etched on the side of the aircraft—cutting off our path.
anwhile, the colossus had already started climbing the slope.
The upper shell, towering like a skyscraper, had tilted downward from the ground at a steep angle.
This was it.
This was the mont we’d been waiting for.
Kim Daram looked at with piercing eyes.
I knew that look.
She was thinking the sa thing I was.
“Is he interfering on purpose?”
But I knew she hadn’t dug into Kang Han-min’s true nature.
She wasn’t one to overthink things.
She always lived by what she could see—no more, no less.
And there’s nothing wrong with that.
In most cases, it’s more efficient than how I operate.
“Probably.”
The situation was now a ss.
Kang Han-min’s chopper was blocking us.
We tried radioing him, but there was no reply.
Still, attacking him outright was impossible.
Politically. Logistically.
He was the Kang Han-min. The Savior of South Korea.
Who could point a gun at him?
“What should we do?” the pilot asked, turning to .
He was asking for a solution—but I didn’t have a magic fix either.
“Can’t we just maneuver around and take the shot?”
“...That’s easier said than done.”
“We’ve got three helis. He can’t block all of us.”
“You an stagger our attacks?”
I nodded.
The formation scattered.
The three helicopters split off and circled to different attack angles.
Kang Han-min’s chopper hovered for a mont, then shot toward the first helicopter to complete its attack prep.
“Helicopter 2, abort strike.”
I spoke into the mic.
“No, act like you're striking. Just pretend to fire.”
Kim Daram looked at .
Her twisted expression said it all—you really think he’ll go that far?
I do.
“Helicopter 3, comnce attack.”
The third chopper launched its missiles.
Imdiately, Kang Han-min’s helicopter surged in that direction.
And—
BOOM!
Even from a distance, the shockwave was imnse—enough to shake the entire aircraft.
No doubt about it.
A reflective barrier.
Luckily, we’d already gained distance, and the missiles skimd past the barrier—slamming into the Kraken-type’s legs.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Twelve missiles, nad Hellfire, detonated in sequence.
Before the smoke even cleared, we saw three of its legs fall off from the torso.
“Nice shot.”
I said into the mic.
“Let’s keep it steady.”
I’d heard before: only the best pilots stayed in the governnt forces.
These pilots lived up to their reputation—dodging Kang Han-min’s interference with masterful maneuvers and delivering a second wave.
This ti, Kang Han-min didn’t deploy the barrier.
He must’ve figured the distance was too great.
Another three legs blown off.
That made six total—the ones we’d marked as primary targets.
But there were still two more.
Legs still holding its balance.
My helicopter hadn’t fired yet.
But Kang Han-min knew that.
Having missed his chance twice, his chopper now firmly positioned itself between us and the Kraken.
“This won’t work. We can’t fire like this,” the pilot said firmly.
I knew.
“Kim Daram.”
“Yeah?”
“Get the explosives ready.”
She stared at , stunned.
“You’re really doing it?”
I nodded and turned to the pilot.
“Can we approach the Kraken?”
He looked equally stunned.
“You’re going with Plan B?”
We’d warned them in advance.
If missiles weren’t enough, we’d attempt sothing clearly insane.
The governnt pilots had chuckled at the ti.
But here we were.
Kang Han-min wasn’t attacking us directly, but through obstruction and passive interference, he was still trying to get us killed.
Any other mission, we’d have aborted.
But not this one.
Not when hundreds of thousands of lives were at stake.
This was the only shot.
Only when the monster tilted slightly off the center of gravity while climbing could we make this plan work.
THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD—
The massive gray-white thing twisted below as I strapped the heavy explosive pack to my back.
“You sure about this?” Kim Daram asked softly.
I nodded.
I often gave risky orders, but I always took responsibility.
This was my job.
THUDTHUDTHUD—
Another helicopter roared past, buffeting us with wind and noise.
I saw it clearly—etched on the side, the kneeling jester playing the harp.
This ti, I noticed sothing new.
The jester’s eyes... were crying.
What did those tears an?
“Descending.”
I dropped, relying on a single rope for my life.
In that fleeting mont, countless thoughts flashed through .
The wall-like gray of the Kraken’s body, the terrain approaching fast in the wind, the two twitching legs below, and the faces of comrades flickering in and out of view.
Each of them seed to be trying to say sothing to .
I wonder what.
Maybe I’ll find out after I die.
But not yet.
Now’s not the ti.
I clenched my teeth and gripped the rope.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
Two legs moved just ahead, shaking the earth.
The helicopter noise drew closer.
Kang Han-min’s chopper was coming.
WHUUUUUUUUMMMMM—
Too close.
It felt like he might slice the rope with his rotors.
“...”
I ignored it.
Focus.
I attached the explosives to the two intersecting legs.
Beep.
Once set, I spoke into the comm.
“Lift up.”
No sooner had I said it than the rope reeled back.
The sound and wind grew stronger—
Not ours.
Kang Han-min’s.
His chopper lined up beside mine.
In a brief instant, I saw him.
The open window.
The face I knew so well.
Kang Han-min.
He leaned out, staring at —genuinely startled.
At that mont, one long-held doubt vanished.
It was definitely Kang Han-min.
He hadn’t changed.
That inhuman persona was all an act.
He was the sa Kang Han-min I’d t in the sewers of Beijing. The one who had filled with dread.
Just like that, the mont passed.
I rose. His helicopter veered away.
Kim Daram reached out dangerously far, yelling,
“Sunbae!”
I grabbed her hand and pulled myself back inside.
The mont I did, the explosion hit.
Two more legs blew off.
Now, all of the rear support limbs were gone.
I spoke into the comm:
“Request bombardnt at the coordinates just sent.”
Almost instantly, fire rained from the south.
Shells slamd into the Kraken’s upper shell as it climbed Bukhansan.
Explosions stitched its body—until it began to sway.
“...Whoa?!”
“It’s falling! It’s falling!”
The Kraken tilted.
Having lost its rear support legs, gravity pulled it down the steep slope.
KWOOOOOOOOOM—!
Even in death, the Kraken made a spectacle.
It toppled through dozens of ruined skyscrapers, dragging them all down with it.
Dust clouds exploded, and it twitched its remaining legs—
But it never rose again.
“We did it!”
“They actually did it!”
“Take a picture of that bastard!”
Cheers erupted.
Inside the chopper. Across the comms.
“Sunbae!”
Woo Min-hee’s voice broke through.
A voice I hadn’t heard in a long ti—excited, innocent, like back when she was my cute junior.
“Sunbae! You really did it? You brought down a Kraken-type with practically nothing! If not you, then who else could pull that off?!”
She sounded genuinely happy.
And she was right. One sweep of that beam and our city would've been ashes.
But as her chaotic praise rang out, I noticed sothing cold.
Kim Daram was staring at with a dead-serious expression.
When our eyes t, she shook her head.
As if to say—don’t you dare.
I smiled faintly.
“Go make up with her already.”
“What? We didn’t fight.”
The city was saved.
But the chopper gliding quietly through the sky far away cast a shadow in my heart.
“...Anyway, Sunbae.”
Kim Daram called.
“Good job.”
She raised her thumb.
“...”
I responded with a faint smile.
Then turned my gaze to the fading form of Kang Han-min’s helicopter.
Monts later, the copilot turned.
“ssage from Kang Han-min’s chopper.”
I read it.
“We apologize for the unintentional obstruction of your maneuver during mission training. Due to comms malfunction, we were unable to notify you in ti.”
Curses flew from every corner of the comms.
I ignored them.
My thoughts were elsewhere.
Since the Rift opened, monsters had been humanity’s undisputed Nesis.
But today, I was sure of sothing else—
Our greatest enemy might still be one of us.
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