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Chapter Text

It was the first day after Kim Rok Soo's week-long vacation. He had rested well, even finishing all five volumes of The Birth of a Hero, and was ready to return to work. However, the peace didn't last long. An unidentified, unranked monster suddenly appeared, prompting his team to respond urgently.

They were close to defeating the creature when it attempted to self-destruct. Without hesitation, Rok Soo pushed his skill Instant to its limits and struck the final blow. His body cracked, blood flowing uncontrollably. As his consciousness faded, a single thought crossed his mind:

"After everything… I can finally rest."

With his final breath, he turned to Kim Min Ah, the vice-captain, and the others, saying:

“Min Ah, I’m passing the captain’s title to you. Take care of everyone. And remember this—Being alive is the best.”

Tears streamed down their faces as they watched their leader fall, powerless to stop it.

Rok Soo lost all sensation. Darkness enveloped him… until he suddenly awoke in what looked like an office.

“What the hell…? I remember dying…”

A loud voice echoed outside the office.

“What happened to Being alive is the best, huh?! Now look at you, sacrificing yourself!”

Rok Soo turned toward the voice and was stunned to see a familiar face—his former team leader and family-like figure.

“Team leader… why are you here…?”

His eyes widened, shimmering with tears as memories flooded in.

Lee Soo Hyuk approached and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry I left you alone like that, Rok Soo. But we don’t have much time, so I need to explain everything quickly.”

Rok Soo calmed himself and returned to his usual stoic expression, quickly analyzing the situation.

“Team leader… can you tell me what’s going on? Why am I seeing you?”

Soo Hyuk sighed and took a seat on the sofa.

“I’m here on behalf of a certain bastard who was too much of a coward to face you himself.”

“What? Who?”

“You’ll know soon enough. But for now, to the point: Rok Soo, you’re going to be reborn into another world.”

“...What?”

“I know it sounds insane. But listen carefully—you’ll be sent to a place where you can grow and be stronger.”

“Wait, why do I need to get stronger? Honestly, I’d rather be reborn into a wealthy family and live a life where I don’t have to lift a finger.”

Soo Hyuk let out a long sigh.

“Haah… You really haven’t changed. But you’ll need strength. That world is dangerous.”

“Those so-called gods want you to save that world. But me? I just want you to live the life you truly want. That’s all.”

Rok Soo was touched by his former captain’s words.

“Team leader… I…”

Before he could finish, the space around them began to tremble.

“Damn it, it's collapsing already!” Soo Hyuk cursed. “Listen closely, Rok Soo. I have a gift for you—my ability: Embrace. You remember how it works, right? After all, you were the strategist who knew every teammate’s skills by heart.”

He stood up and hugged Rok Soo once more.

“That day... what Jung Soo and I did was our decision. You have no reason to blame yourself. Thank you… for surviving.”

Those words lifted a heavy burden from Rok Soo’s heart. Tears streamed down his face.

“Thank you, hyung. I won’t blame myself anymore. But you’re not allowed to blame yourself either.”

As soon as the words left his lips, the world around him began to fade. Soo Hyuk’s figure slowly vanished.

“Heh… Alright, kid. Time to say goodbye. Who knows? Maybe we’ll meet again someday.”

“Wait, what do you mean by—”

Before he could finish, everything disappeared, and Rok Soo lost consciousness once more.

Sherrit, once the Dragon Lord, now existed only as a remnant—an illusion bound to the White Castle  within the desert. For thousands of years, she had remained in this place, her presence barely more than a memory lingering in the ancient halls. But today, something was different. A strange aura, unfamiliar yet divine, brushed across her senses from the front courtyard.

Alarmed, she immediately made her way outside—only to freeze in astonishment. There, on the stone steps, lay a cradle. Inside it, peacefully asleep, was a baby wrapped in soft white cloth. Next to the cradle was a scroll, radiating divine energy.

She picked it up, and as she read, her expression grew solemn:

“To the former Dragon Lord—please care for this special child. Raise him well. One day, he will help you rediscover the happiness you once lost.”

She knew immediately—this child had been sent by a god.

A long, quiet sigh escaped her lips as she knelt beside the cradle and gazed upon the infant. He had blood-red hair that reminded her of one of the two eggs she had once cherished. His skin was soft and pale like moonlight, and above his head floated a laurel-shaped halo, glowing faintly with divine light. There was no doubt—this child was an angel.

And yet… there was something odd.

Two small horns peeked out from his forehead.

Sherrit blinked. An angel… with horns? This went against every description she had ever known—even the ancient texts from her days as Dragon Lord said nothing of angels like this.

Still, as she looked down at the baby, a feeling stirred within her. It wasn’t just duty, or curiosity. It was… warmth. A faint echo of something she thought had been lost long ago.

"He reminds me... of the one I couldn't protect."

And just like that, her mind was made up.

After ten thousand years of solitude—after wandering the sands as a ghost clinging to a fading castle—Sherrit once again became a mother.

When Rok Soo regained consciousness, he found himself lying in a white room. The ceiling above him was high and ornate, and soft blankets surrounded him. He raised his hand instinctively—but instead of a familiar, muscular arm, what he saw was a tiny, chubby baby’s hand.

“So… I really have been reborn. But where am I?”

He was still lost in thought when a gentle voice reached his ears.

“You’re awake, little one. Welcome to this world. I will take care of you, my precious angel.”

He turned toward the voice and saw a beautiful woman with flowing white hair and faint freckles scattered across her kind face. She was smiling warmly at him, her eyes filled with deep affection.

“Is this… my mother in this world?”

He reached his small hand toward her, and she immediately took it into hers. At that moment, something intangible yet powerful blossomed between them—a bond, pure and unshakable.

To Rok Soo, who had grown up as an orphan in his previous life, this feeling was utterly foreign. Yet warm. Comforting. There was no father figure nearby, no other presence.

“That’s fine. I’ll protect this family and enjoy the lazy life I never had.”

With that thought, his eyes fluttered shut, and he fell asleep. Sherrit gently smiled and left the room to prepare everything needed to raise a child of divine blood.

Time passed quickly. One year later, Rok Soo was toddling about his luxurious nursery. The room had everything a child could dream of—soft rugs, shelves of toys, and enormous windows letting in the desert sun.

“Strange… I’ve never seen anyone here except Mama.”

Indeed, he had assumed he had been reborn as the son of some wealthy noble family, but no servants ever appeared. Only Sherrit—his "Mama."

“Little angel, it’s time to eat,” she said, entering the room.

“Okay, Mama.”

He replied naturally, sitting up and smiling. Though they shared no resemblance—neither in appearance nor in race—her gentleness made him feel safe. Even the way she called him little angel felt personal.

“Maybe that’s just her way of calling me her baby.”

After eating, he returned to his room and gazed into the mirror. What he saw surprised him.

“Why do I have a halo floating above my head? And horns too? How annoying...”

He had long suspected he wasn’t fully human, but he didn’t want to be labeled as anything either. Half-jokingly, he thought:

“Disappear.”

Poof.

The halo and horns vanished.

“Oh. That actually worked…”

Grinning to himself, Rok Soo felt relieved. Now, at least, he looked like an ordinary human child—safe from any zealous priest or curious noble eye.

Years passed.

At age five, Rok Soo had nearly forgotten the halo and horns altogether. His days were filled with meals, naps, books, and basic lessons in language and the world around him. Eventually, he came to a shocking realization:

“Wait… this is the world of The Birth of a Hero—the novel I read.”

And that world? It was one of chaos and war.

“No wonder the hyung told me I needed to get stronger,” he muttered, sighing heavily.

Just then, Sherrit entered the room. Today was different—today, she would finally explain the truth: about him, about his origins, and about herself.

Though Rok Soo had always known she wasn’t his biological mother—or even a living being—he had long accepted her as family. Her nurturing presence, gentle teaching, and warm smiles had filled a hole in his heart he didn’t know still existed.

She sat beside him on the sofa and said softly:

“Today, I’ll tell you how you came to be here.”

“You’re smart, so I’m sure you already know. We’re not truly mother and son. And… I’m not really alive.”

Rok Soo looked down, his voice a whisper.

“Even so… I still think of you as my mother.”

Sherrit chuckled.

“What was that? Say it louder?”

“Nothing!” he said quickly, cheeks flushed.

“Anyway,” she smiled, “let me tell you the story of the day I found you.”

He listened closely as she recounted every detail. When she finished, everything finally made sense.

Yes—he was an angel. He could no longer deny it.

But still, he decided to keep that secret to himself. After all, the fewer people who knew, the safer his peaceful, lazy life would be.

“Then… why do I have horns?” he asked curiously. “I thought angels didn’t have horns.”

Sherrit looked puzzled.

“Even in the oldest texts I have from my days as Dragon Lord, there’s no mention of angels with horns. I don’t know why either.”

Rok Soo tilted his head in thought, then shrugged.

“Well, I can hide them, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“If that’s how you feel, then I’ll trust you,” she said, smiling again. “Oh, and one more thing—it’s time you chose your name.”

“My name?”

“According to the scroll, angels are noble beings who choose their own names. It’s a part of their identity.”

Rok Soo hesitated. His old name had died with his old self.

He looked up at her, eyes full of trust.

“Why don’t you name me, Mama? Whether I’m a noble being or not doesn’t matter to us, right?”

Sherrit let out a soft, affectionate sigh.

“Alright then. I’ll think carefully and give you a name worthy of you.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Rok Soo replied, smiling gently.

That day, the two of them spent their time reading books, cooking together, and sleeping side by side. It was a rare and precious peace—a peace neither of them had known in a very long time.

Chapter Text

In the vast, echoing halls of the White Castle nestled in the desert, the days passed in a quiet rhythm. And within its walls, Rok Soo---now named Ciel---continued to learn everything this world had to offer.

His mother, Sherrit, had given him that name.

"Ciel," she had said softly, brushing a lock of red hair from his forehead as he sat in her lap that day. "It means 'sky' in the old language. Boundless, vast, and ever-changing. Just like you."

He had held that name close to his heart ever since, though privately he wondered if he deserved such a beautiful meaning. Boundless and vast? He was just someone who wanted to live peacefully without getting hurt. Ever-changing? Perhaps that part was accurate—he certainly felt like he was constantly adapting, constantly calculating the best path to avoid pain and responsibility.

At age eight, something extraordinary happened. While playing with the air currents in the garden hall, Ciel felt an unfamiliar pull deep within his body. When he reached out his hand to test a theory, the air shimmered---then bent to his will.

Gray magic, like mist, flowed from his fingers.

"...Magic?" he whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.

Great, he thought with a mixture of wonder and resignation. Another thing that makes me different. Another responsibility I'll probably have to shoulder.

The moment Sherrit sensed the activation of mana in the castle, she burst into the hall, her expression a mixture of surprise and delight.

"Ciel! Was that... your mana just now?"

He nodded, cautiously. Despite his internal complaints, he couldn't help but feel a warm flutter in his chest at her proud expression. He would never admit it, but making his mother happy was one of the few things that made him genuinely content.

"It's gray," he added, frowning slightly. "Is that bad? It looks... ordinary."

Sherrit laughed, a sound full of warmth. "No, my sweet. It's rare---beautiful, even. Gray mana means balance, flexibility, neutrality. Like the twilight between light and dark. Just like you."

Balance and neutrality, he mused. At least that sounds peaceful. Maybe I can use this to avoid getting involved in troublesome situations.

From that day forward, she became his teacher in magic. She instructed him in the foundations of magic: control, meditation, incantations, and spell construction. Every day she would summon tomes and artifacts from the castle's sealed vaults, many of which hadn't been touched in centuries.

Ciel, for his part, tried his best to stay motivated, though he had his own reasons that he kept carefully hidden.

But often he would groan dramatically, flopping onto a velvet couch, "Mother, when am I supposed to nap if you keep making me study? I'm still growing, you know. Sleep is important for development."

She would just smile and ruffle his hair. "You can be lazy when you're stronger than me."

"...So never?"

"Exactly."

Still, he always obeyed, if only because her eyes sparkled every time she watched him succeed. He couldn't bear to disappoint her, though he convinced himself it was simply because disappointed mothers were troublesome to deal with. Deep down, however, he knew the truth—he genuinely cared about her happiness, even if he'd rather die than say it out loud.

What Sherrit didn't know was that Ciel approached his magical studies with a very specific philosophy: If I'm going to be strong, I'll be smart about it. I'll learn magic that protects rather than destroys, that prevents conflicts rather than starting them.

He focused particularly on defensive spells, healing magic, and techniques that could resolve situations without bloodshed. When Sherrit praised his "balanced approach to magic," he would just shrug and mutter something about efficiency, but internally he was pleased. This way, he could be strong enough to protect the peace around him without having to personally engage in violent confrontations.

"Pain is annoying," he would tell himself whenever he mastered a new healing spell. "It's much more convenient if no one gets hurt in the first place."

By the time Ciel turned fifteen, he was no longer just a child playing with spells. He had become what the world would consider a high-tier mage.

Magic came easily to him.

That worried him, though not for the reasons others might expect. The stronger I get, the more people will expect from me, he realized with growing unease. Strong people always end up with more responsibilities. They become the ones others rely on.

He had seen it countless times in his previous life—the competent ones were always the first to be called upon when problems arose. And problems, in his experience, usually involved pain, sacrifice, and sleepless nights.

But, he admitted reluctantly to himself during one of his late-night study sessions, if I'm not strong enough, I won't be able to protect the peaceful life I want.

So he decided to dig deeper into the truth of his blood---into what it meant to be an angel.

He locked himself in the grand castle library for weeks, surrounded by towering shelves of forgotten knowledge. He read about dragons, demons, divine beings, and celestial races. And in one ancient volume, written in the old divine script, he found a description that matched what he was experiencing.

"When an angel matures, they undergo a metamorphosis known as the First Awakening. Upon completion, they receive their Unique Attribute and enter a stabilized form, which does not age or change until the next awakening---typically five centuries later."

"This must be what Team leader meant when he said I had to grow stronger," Ciel muttered, then paused. Five centuries without aging? That's... actually not bad. I could have centuries of lazy, peaceful days ahead of me.

He now had a clear goal: complete his First Awakening---and prepare for whatever responsibilities would inevitably come with greater power.

I'll get strong enough to ensure peace, he decided pragmatically. Strong enough that no one will dare disturb my quiet life. It's the most efficient long-term strategy.

That same year, Sherrit finally shared with him a story she had never spoken aloud before.

"My son," she began, voice trembling slightly, "I once had two dragon eggs. One red, one black. I... I lost them."

As she spoke of the betrayal by White Star, of the curse he had, and of the black egg that vanished without a trace, Ciel listened with growing anger that he carefully kept hidden behind a calm expression. Someone hurt Mother, he thought, and for a moment, his usual aversion to conflict wavered. Someone made her suffer.

His heart ached as he listened, though he convinced himself it was simply because seeing others in pain was troublesome and made him uncomfortable.

"I remember reading about that egg," he murmured, recalling details from The Birth of a Hero. "If I'm right... it will appear in the Toz region in about twenty years."

"You... know that?" she asked, stunned.

He nodded, already calculating. If I can reunite Mother with her child, she'll be happier. And if she's happier, our life here will be more peaceful. "I think I can find it. We can find it."

What he didn't say was: And I'll make sure whoever took it from you in the first place pays for it. Not because I enjoy conflict, but because some debts need to be settled for the sake of future peace.

Sherrit could only stare at her son, a strange hope rekindling in her chest. She didn't notice the cold glint that briefly flickered in his ocean-blue eyes—a look that suggested Ciel had inherited more than just her magical talent.

From then on, Ciel began making plans---not only for the black dragon egg, but for the ancient powers hidden across the continent. If he wanted peace, if he wanted a life where he could be lazy and safe, then he would have to earn it first.

I'll gather strong allies, he planned methodically. People who can handle the dangerous work while I coordinate from somewhere safe and comfortable. It's much more efficient that way.

But even as he made these practical plans, a part of him knew the truth he wouldn't acknowledge: when it came to protecting the people he cared about, he would put himself in harm's way without hesitation. He just preferred to call it "taking responsibility to avoid future responsibilities."

By the time he turned eighteen, Ciel had become formidable. His power was precise, not showy---like a blade hidden beneath silk. He had mastered dozens of spells, divine techniques, and especially healing magic.

Healing magic is the most practical, he would justify when Sherrit praised his unusual focus on restorative arts. Injured people are troublesome. They complain, they need care, they can't work efficiently. It's better to just fix everyone quickly.

He could defend. He could destroy if absolutely necessary. He could protect those who mattered to him.

And he still liked to nap, though now his afternoon rests were often interrupted by strategic planning sessions disguised as "thinking time."

I'm definitely not a good person, he would remind himself during these moments of quiet contemplation. A good person wouldn't be calculating how to manipulate situations to their advantage. They wouldn't be planning to use others' strengths to avoid personal risk.

But when he thought about Sherrit's smile, or imagined the relief on her face when they found the black dragon egg, something warm and protective stirred in his chest—something that felt suspiciously like genuine care and love.

Definitely not good, he insisted to himself. I'm just being practical.

But on one quiet morning, something shifted.

Sherrit opened the door to his room with a fond smile, expecting the usual: her son curled up in bed, wrapped in blankets like a sleepy caterpillar.

Instead, she froze.

Ciel wasn't just sleeping.

He was glowing.

His real form had emerged---long red hair cascading across the pillows, horns arcing elegantly from his head, his body suspended slightly above the bed. Around him, divine light shimmered in halos and sigils. His Awakening had begun.

Sherrit's heart clenched in awe.

She said nothing. She simply sat beside him and held his hand, whispering quiet encouragements and promises that she would be there when he woke.

Within the depths of his soul, Ciel dreamed.

He stood before the memories he had buried---the day he lost Lee Soo Hyuk and Choi Jung Soo. The day they had sacrificed themselves for him. The day he had stood in front of their portraits and felt... nothing.

I told myself I was fine, he realized in the dream. I told myself that feeling nothing was proof I was a terrible person. But maybe... maybe I was just scared.

But now...

Tears welled up in his eyes.

"I miss you," he whispered to the memory of his fallen comrades. "I was afraid to feel it before, but... I'm sad. I'm really, really sad. And I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I had to keep living when you couldn't."

I want to live well, he continued, his voice breaking. Not because I deserve it, but because you wanted me to. I want to protect others the way you protected me. I want to build a world where no one has to make the sacrifices you made.

As he spoke the truth---his truth---the dreamscape shattered into light, and with it, his last barriers against acknowledging his own capacity for love and sacrifice.

Outside, Sherrit saw it first: a pillar of radiant energy erupting upward. She stood quickly, eyes wide, her maternal heart swelling with pride and worry.

And then---

Ciel descended slowly from the air, his adult form now complete.

He was breathtaking.

Blood-red hair flowed to his shoulders. His eyes---ocean blue, just like hers---were calm and clear, but now held a depth of compassion and quiet strength that spoke of someone who had faced his own darkness and chosen light. His horns curled beautifully, black as midnight. And behind him, two wings unfurled---one white, one black---opposing, yet perfectly balanced.

The symbolism wasn't lost on him as consciousness returned. Light and dark. Good and bad. Just like me.

"My boy..." Sherrit whispered, rushing forward to catch him as he collapsed into her arms.

He stirred, blinking slowly---and then wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"Mother," he said, and his voice carried new harmonics, resonant with power but soft with affection. "Thank you for waiting."

"I'm here," she replied, stroking his hair. "I'll always be here."

They sat together for a long time, speaking in hushed voices. Of growth. Of plans. Of the future they would build together. Of letting go of old pain while honoring old love.

When Ciel mentioned his plans to find the black dragon egg, his voice carried quiet determination rather than his usual detached calculation.

"I want to bring your child home," he said simply. "Not because it's strategically advantageous, but because family should be together. Because you deserve to be happy. Because..."

He paused, still struggling with direct emotional honesty.

"Because?" Sherrit prompted gently.

"Because I love you," he admitted, the words feeling strange but right on his tongue. "And people should fight for the ones they love, even if fighting is troublesome and scary and probably going to hurt."

Sherrit's eyes filled with tears of joy.

And when Ciel stood again, readying for the next chapter of his life, he looked into the mirror.

He didn't see a monster. Or a weapon. Or even a god.

He saw himself.

Beautiful. Powerful. Flawed. Someone who would always prefer peace but would fight when necessary. Someone who would always claim to be selfish while sacrificing for others. Someone who would always insist he was trash while inspiring others to be better.

Someone who was finally ready to stop running from his own capacity for love.

I'm still not a good person, he thought with a small, self-deprecating smile. But maybe that's okay. Maybe being imperfect but trying anyway is enough.

He stretched his new wings experimentally, marveling at the sensation of balance between light and dark.

Time to get to work, he decided. These people I care about won't protect themselves. And if I'm going to be responsible for their safety anyway, I might as well do it efficiently.

But as he began making mental lists of allies to gather and plans to implement, a traitorous part of his heart whispered the real truth: he wasn't doing this for efficiency or strategic advantage.

He was doing it for family.

And despite everything, that felt right.