“Thank you, Director,” Lee Hye-won said softly, bowing again.
Just then, the restaurant door opened, and Lee Ji-an and Gu Eun-woo walked in.
“Hey, you two came at the right time! Say hi. This is our new tenant, Ms. Lee Hye-won,” Sang-woong called out to the kids.
Hye-won greeted them politely. “Hello, I moved in today. Please take care of me.”
Ji-an stepped forward energetically. “Hi! I’m Lee Ji-an from Unit 501!”
Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, clearly intrigued by Hye-won’s rare beauty in this small town.
Eun-woo, slightly dazed by Hye-won’s face, stammered out a late greeting. “Uh… I’m Gu Eun-woo from Unit 201… I live with my brother.”
Hye-won smiled warmly at him. “Nice to meet you.”
Ji-an pouted, noticing Eun-woo’s gaze lingering on Hye-won. To her, Hye-won seemed perfect—small, lovely face, gentle voice, and kind demeanor. Seeing Eun-woo, usually clumsy and aloof, stare at Hye-won with such a dazed expression sparked a twinge of jealousy. It was the first time she’d seen him look at a girl like that.
“What’s with oppa staring at her like that?” Ji-an grumbled inwardly, annoyed by his fixation.
Sang-woong, observing Ji-an’s reaction, hid a quiet smile. The kids’ innocent emotions were amusing.
Soon, the moving truck arrived, and Hae-jin hurried out to show Hye-won her new place. With minimal belongings, the move was quick.
“Hye-won, don’t push yourself too hard. Think of this place as a retreat and rest,” Hae-jin said, patting her shoulder with concern and relief in his voice.
Hye-won forced a smile. “Yes, oppa. I mean, boss. Be careful on your way back.”
“Just call me whatever’s comfortable. See you later,” Hae-jin said, checking her face once more before heading back to Seoul.
Left alone, Hye-won’s forced smile faded. Her eyes dulled, filled with deep exhaustion and emptiness. She hadn’t escaped the trauma of that incident. The vile scars left by the agency’s CEO and the shattered remnants of her dreams still weighed heavily on her. Hae-jin had saved her from the worst, but the memories were etched deep.
Hye-won slowly approached a large box in the living room, filled with colorful snacks—sweet chocolates, crunchy chips, savory biscuits. As her eyes caught the vivid colors, a suppressed void seemed to surge. Her hand instinctively grabbed a bag, as if possessed.
Tearing it open, the sweet, intense scent overwhelmed her senses. Without hesitation, she shoved the snacks into her mouth. The crisp texture and sharp sweetness hit her tongue. Instead of savoring, she ate frantically, as if trying to numb every other sensation.
Like a starving person or someone desperately filling an emotional void, she tore through one bag, then another, and another. Her mind was consumed by an instinctual urge for the next hit of stimulation, leaving no room for guilt or taste.
How long had she eaten? Snapping out of it, she realized over half the box was gone. Her stomach felt bloated, her insides nauseous, her body sticky with discomfort. Yet, strangely, despite the physical fullness, the emotional hunger remained untouched—no, it felt deeper, as if her failed attempt to numb herself had only worsened the emptiness.
The artificial sweetness lingering in her mouth mixed with nausea and indescribable self-loathing. Staring at the empty snack bags, her breathing grew ragged. Regret and self-disgust flooded her.
Even in loose clothes, she felt the weight she’d gained. “I’ve ruined myself again,” she muttered, brushing back her disheveled hair. But the damage was done.
Hye-won let out a deep sigh. Her binge eating hadn’t stopped today either.
It wasn’t the cicadas’ song or the sun’s warmth that awakened the earth. It was a small, fragile, yet resounding hymn of life.
From the woven shelters among the branches, a clear, heart-stirring joy and awe spread like ripples at dawn.
Sang-woong’s heart swelled as he heard it. In the aftermath of the red moon’s madness, amidst despair, a new life had finally been born from the earth.
“The baby’s born! The baby’s born!” he exclaimed, raising his arms in elation, as if he’d given birth himself.
Aria, beside him, trembled with joy, tears streaming down her face, wetting Sang-woong’s shoulder. For the Ahoa tribe, who lived for centuries, the concept of counting time—especially age—was meaningless. Their language lacked formalities like honorifics, reflecting their egalitarian culture.
In their terms, this baby was born after an incredibly long time. The tribe had lived in fear, hiding from monstrous threats, always uncertain of their home’s safety or their people’s survival. Bearing a child was a luxury they couldn’t afford.
This birth held profound meaning—a testament that the land Sang-woong prepared offered true safety and stability. Free from monster threats, they could now raise children. It signified that the tribe had embraced this place as their permanent home.
The baby’s cry wasn’t just a sound. It was a cry of hope overcoming despair, a blessing heralding a new future for the Ahoa.
“The baby’s born! Hau!”
“Wow! Ember and Jade did it! A new life! Hau!”
“Hooray! I’m so happy! Hau!”
“It’s a miracle! The future has come to us! Hau!”
The Ahoa, unable to contain their joy, jumped around like children, shouting with pure, unfiltered exultation. Their excitement was raw and deeply moving, beyond words.
“What’s the baby’s name?” Sang-woong asked Cunning, now the tribe’s chief, suppressing his own overwhelming emotions.
“Bene! Hau!” Cunning replied with a beaming smile, brighter than any Sang-woong had ever seen.
“Bene… a beautiful name,” Sang-woong whispered, his voice carrying tender affection.
“What’s Ember’s favorite food? Let’s hold a grand feast with it tonight!” he suggested.
“Feast? Hau! Great idea! A grand feast! Wait a sec, I’ll find out! Hau!” Cunning darted off on his short legs, brimming with excitement.
Returning breathless, his eyes sparkled. “Bene says Ember wants to show you the baby herself! Hau!”
Sang-woong had held back from visiting, worried about disturbing Ember or unsettling the newborn. But at her invitation, he couldn’t delay. Heart pounding with anticipation, he cautiously entered the house.
The interior was dimmer than outside, but the sight of the newborn in Ember’s arms glowed as if absorbing all the world’s light. A tiny red face, delicate fingers and toes like a doll’s, and subtle movements radiated pure, powerful life energy—a marvel that touched Sang-woong deeply.
Leon watched quietly from behind, while Aria, perched on Sang-woong’s shoulder, covered her mouth, gazing at the baby with awe.
“Bene,” Sang-woong whispered, voice trembling with admiration. “You’re… truly beautiful.”
Ember, with a shy but warm smile, gently offered the baby to him. Though still red and wrinkled, Bene was perfect in Sang-woong’s eyes.
“Can I hold her?” he asked.
Ember nodded, as if entrusting a precious treasure. Sang-woong carefully cradled the baby. Feeling her tiny, warm weight, he was overwhelmed by a profound emotion, as if all other sounds faded. A fierce protective instinct surged within him.
He vowed to protect this precious life and the hope she represented, ensuring her happiness.
“You worked so hard, Ember. Congratulations,” he said sincerely. “Let’s celebrate tonight with your favorite food.”
Ember shyly admitted her favorite was tteokbokki. A new mother craving tteokbokki brought a chuckle to Sang-woong, but it was filled with warmth. Tteokbokki’s universal appeal even reached this tribe.
“Alright, I’ll make the best tteokbokki and seaweed soup tonight,” he promised, starting preparations.
As he lit a fire under a large pot and soaked dried seaweed, the Ahoa children watched with curious, expectant eyes.
“Master, what’s that black stuff? It looks like dried tree leaves! Hau!” one asked, eyes wide.
Sang-woong smiled gently. “This is seaweed. It comes from the sea. It’s special food for mothers who’ve given birth to recover their strength. It’s a symbol of celebration and health, perfect for Ember.”
The pot began to simmer, filling the air with the savory aroma of anchovy, kelp, and seaweed broth.