"You’re always doing things for others."
That’s what Rin once said to Jisun, back when they still stood shoulder to shoulder on the front lines.
"Maybe it’s ti you took a break."
A break... Had Jisun ever truly rested? Years blurred into years of relentless duty — all hidden beneath the polished mask of a perfect weapon.
"Jisun, I’m stepping away from this life. I have sothing I want to protect. My wife. And my son... I want him to have a father."
A father. A wife. A family.
Jisun had none of that. He didn’t rember their faces — only a pendant he’d lost in childhood, sowhere between relocations.
And even now, he hadn’t forgiven them.
He never forgave them for what they’d done — turning a boy into a hunter by grafting a demon’s organs into him. Making him humanity’s next "hope."
But deep down, Jisun also understood: it had to be done. If Lee Yeonho were to fall... then he would take his place. At least, that’s what fate had decided for him.
Ever since his regenerative powers awakened, he trained harder than anyone. Harder than what was considered human. Reina had once proven, during the defense of the Green Zone, that the power of a demon could surface under extre stress — under a primal will to survive.
But Jisun believed there had to be another way to awaken such strength.
And he was right.
Peace. The ability to look inward and unravel the power coursing through his blood.
For a year, he had spent hours each day on his knees — eyes closed, breath steady — feeling every vein, every heartbeat, every ripple of energy inside.
How else to explain the fact that Rin, after so many years, had been able to summon his unique Kenketsu again in a single try?
Jisun needed to grow stronger. Strong enough to stand against Umbra. Strong enough to face the Taurus Demon.
Strong enough... to protect people from demons.
To protect people...
But did they really matter to him?
A nightmare — again. The gray, eyeless faces of his fallen comrades. All those whose fates had been tied to his.
Demon Hunters. Jisun hated everything about that identity. Humans transford into martyrs by the arrogance of those in power.
"You’ll be the last to die, Jisun. You’ll live in this hell longer than all of us."
He always heard those words.
Because that was his fate.
"And what brings the heir of Astaroth to my doorstep?"
The question snapped him out of the spiral.
Jisun blinked. Warm lamplight. A quiet room. The therapist’s study, nestled in a private ho, in the quiet hours of early evening.
He was seated on the couch across from a man with black hair, a long fringe and glasses that glead under the light — eyes like scalpels dissecting every twitch of emotion.
"Demonic abilities," Jisun said after a pause. "I believe that through inner peace, one can unlock their full potential. But... I’m missing the last piece of the puzzle. I’m not sure if I truly solve it anymore."
"Hmm." The therapist narrowed his eyes. "And you ca here to find the answer externally? I’m flattered. But you of all people should know — only you know who you are."
Jisun looked lost. Not confused — lost.
"What is it you’re really searching for, Mr. Jisun? Fa? Power? Or salvation?"
"...I’m missing the last piece of the puzzle."
The words echoed back — oddly hollow, as if they had co from soone else’s mouth.
"People need a hero," the therapist went on. "Without hope, they would have abandoned this war a long ti ago. The face of a ’hero’ gives their suffering aning. With Lee Yeonho gone, you beca that face. His shadow."
The ringing in Jisun’s ears flared again, louder this ti — a violent, sickening whine. His vision blurred. The therapist’s voice turned to noise, sharp and distant.
"This is your destiny. You are their hope."
"...I’m missing the last piece of the puzzle."
"Then live for them, Mr. Jisun. Live longer than anyone else in this hell."
The ringing surged. Jisun’s eyes widened in panic.
And then — Silence.
He blinked, and found himself once again across from the therapist.
"And what brings the heir of Astaroth to my doorstep?"
Swallowing, Jisun breathed shallowly.
"...A long ti ago, my best friend told I was arrogant. Detached from others. I hated him for that. But when he left the Demon Hunters, I carried on his beliefs. Our job is to preserve balance — to protect humanity."
"You an to save it."
"...Yes."
"Go on."
"I forced him to co back and fight beside again. He beca a father. And I... I feel stuck. I lived for this duty. I’ve lived so long for this that nothing else matters to anymore."
"I see. So the ice is finally starting to crack?"
Jisun looked down, expression unreadable.
"Demon Hunters... victims caught in a loop of sacrifice. We exist to die in battle. That’s our only ending. I’m realizing... I never had a choice. My life was stolen from before I even understood what it was."
"How harshly you judge yourself," the therapist said, folding his hands. "Yes, your path was forced upon you. But now you say there’s no reason to change it? That it’s too late?"
"...I sense no reason to change it anymore. I carry the hopes of too many and can’t afford to be selfish now."
"No, I think you’re mistaken, Mr. Jisun. No matter how strong you are — no matter how heroic you appear — you’re still human. You’ll be human until the day you die. You have everything: power, mind, soul. So why not decide your fate for you? You have an opinion, so why not use it? And above all, you have a personality, then why do you live by the judgnts of others?"
"...Why?"
Because I...
...am a hero?
"Think on it, Mr. Jisun. Find your answer. And co back when you do. Because you do not owe anyone the right to define you."
And so, the question echoed in his mind as he stepped outside — a whisper louder than the war drums.
Then who am I?
Sothing thawed in him that day.
A crack in the ice. A trembling in the foundation.
For the first ti in a long ti...
Park Jisun felt the possibility
of being sothing
more than
a hero.
Reviews
All reviews (0)