Rich Bond I
Let's dive into the tale of a father and his son.
In this context, "rich" doesn't refer to a wealthy bourgeoisie but to the richness of familial bond between a father and son.
To truly grasp these two characters' story, I had to reluctantly go back to my fourth cycle.
At that point in my life, I was a walking embarrassment. Those first five cycles were my "teen phase" of sorts.
Even now, after living through countless years, I cringed at memories from my first to fifth cycle.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, I only acquired my [Complete Memory] ability in my fifth cycle. Memories from before then were like blurry dreams.
What I'll describe is a mix of reconstruction and fiction.
"Help me..."
"It hurts, it hurts too much..."
The first thing that always came to mind in those shadowy memories was the groaning of people.
Whether it was a "Gah!" or a "Grrr..." the sounds varied in volume, but the quieter they grew, the shorter their lives became.
I walked with bells jingling, asking people:
"Do you want to escape hell?"
"Huh...?"
"Do you want peace forever?"
It might seem like something a cult preacher would say, but those were indeed my words.
Let me offer a brief explanation.
First, I rarely spoke politely at this time. So technically, it should have been written as, "Wanna escape this shitty hell?" and "Need peace?"
But writing that way would make my fingers curl into a black hole of embarrassment. Please forgive me.
Plus, my fourth-cycle memories were vague, so a bit of historical distortion is reasonable, right? Historical distortion is better than cramping fingers.
Second, I never intended to spread a cult.
Those questions were related to why I earned the moniker "Undertaker."
"Screw you! Get lost!"
"Isn't he the Undertaker?"
"Bah! What a bad omen!"
Most people could still manage to survive. Though they claimed they wanted to die, they held onto life. I'd then politely excuse myself.
But there were always those who had given up hope.
"Yes... I don't want to hurt anymore..."
The one bitten by monsters, the diseased, the grieving, the disillusioned, and those who realized peace would never return—these people agreed.
So I asked another question:
"My nickname is Undertaker."
"Yeah, I know..."
"That makes this easier. I can make people sleep forever in their dreams."
"......"
"If you agree, I can help you relive your happiest moments endlessly in a dream."
Time Seal.
It was my unique ability that I hadn't yet revealed.
While I knew the convention of unveiling a protagonist's powers early, I remained silent because I had primarily used [Time Seal] in my first six cycles.
After that, I rarely used it.
Mostly because I hated my own ability.
That's why I considered this episode a shameful part of my past.
"Alright, put me in the dream now..."
"Before you agree, there's something you should know."
I spoke calmly.
"Once you're trapped in a dream by my power, everyone will forget you."
"What?"
"Your family, friends, and anyone you've met won't remember you while you dream. In this world, only I will remember you."
"......"
"You'll be happy in the dream, but you'll be completely forgotten. Do you still want to live in your dream?"
I didn't explain the full power of this forgetfulness, but it was strong.
Even if I regressed and started a new life, the [Time Seal] remained intact.
It became an exception to regression itself. Somehow, the sealed person would remain sealed, forgotten.
It was like they never existed.
"That's... too much..."
Most people hesitated here.
No matter how painful things were, the idea of being erased was unsettling. They often chose suicide instead.
"Whatever, it's fine."
But there were always those who had given up hope.
"Being erased from the world sounds comforting. What do I have to see in this fucked-up world? Please, just erase me."
This is where the "father" in today's story, former pro football player Kim Joo-chul, came in.
Retired.
That's how Kim Joo-chul referred to himself.
"I was a starter in the first league. I was a left back defender, you know? They were throwing money at me!"
He inhaled the oxygen of past glories instead of the current reality.
While many longed for their former jobs after the world fell apart, Kim Joo-chul clung particularly hard to his.
"Hey, kid. Wanna see my highlight reel?"
He went so far as to download his highlights onto his phone.
An ideal talent for today's era, where self-promotion is crucial.
In the six-minute reel, he dashed across the field in a red uniform like a banner. He was a defender, so goals were rare, but the crowd's cheers rang out vividly through the screen with every play.
"Got an offer from Japan. Even sent agents from the Netherlands to scout me. People underestimate the Dutch league, but it's a big deal."
He effortlessly switched between formal and informal speech like dribbling a football ball.
"Damn, I should have gone abroad instead of being loyal to my club. Should've just ditched everything for romance. I wasted my life."
Kim Joo-chul's phone often ran out of battery because he couldn't stop bragging about his highlights.
Unlike others, he didn't try to contact the outside world with his phone. For him, the phone only served as a storage for his highlights.
"A defender is crucial in modern football..."
"Mister! Stop talking and hurry up!"
"Oh, jeez. Kids cussing me out again. You remind me of my son."
Kim Joo-chul grinned and stood up.
"Let's go, you old retired man."
Despite his grand words, his body barely managed to move forward.
Kim Joo-chul's left leg limped constantly.
A world overrun by monsters wasn't kind to humanity, much less a cripple.
Even those who ran the fastest couldn't guarantee their survival, so Kim Joo-chul was always treated like leftovers.
It didn't matter that he had been a well-known football player back in the day. If not a national World Cup player, most people wouldn't recognize football players' names.
"Being an ex-athlete means shit."
He chuckled.
Maybe his constant self-promotion was a way to raise his value.
But the survivors remained cold. If he had been elderly or infirm, they might have shown pity, but no one cared for a seemingly fit middle-aged man. He struggled in food distribution, night watches, and other chores.
"Well, that's how life is."
Kim Joo-chul wasn't bitter. Not because he was exceptionally kind, but because he was used to being treated this way.
"I have a son. He should be about your age. Or younger?"
"You must not be close to him."
"Don't even talk about it. He ran away with his mom ten years ago."
Kim Joo-chul smirked.
"We got along once. But after some punk shattered my left leg on the field, everything fell apart. Funny enough, it turned out my knee joint was linked to my family's harmony."
"......"
"Well, I'm the asshole, but cut me some slack. A promising player was forced to retire out of nowhere at age 26. You think I'd be okay mentally? My left leg was my damn livelihood."
His voice grew quieter.
He was one of the first people summoned to the transformed Busan Station terminal with me. Resting against a bookshelf in the maze-like station, he rambled.
"When I was in rehab, the jerk who broke my leg had the nerve to visit. I never knew crutches made such good weapons. Beat the crap out of him. But his parents had connections at the football association. The whole thing blew over, and I ended up with no place to go. This is Korea's problem. Assholes always seem to thrive."
"......"
"That bastard couldn't even play."
Though he seemed honest, there were things Kim Joo-chul avoided discussing, like how he indulged in alcohol and gambling after being discharged from rehab.
How he practically lived in Macau and Gangwon, leaving his young son to be raised solely by his wife. How his wife died two years ago. How he wandered around a convenience store near a Gangwon casino just before being summoned to the Busan Station terminal. And how he had bought two packs of cigarettes, which he now stashed in socks.
I knew much about Kim Joo-chul because I was with him through the first four cycles.
"Damn, this world is so harsh..."
From the first to fourth cycles, he never made it out intact.
I didn't remember the exact circumstances of his death.
But as best as I could recall, in my first cycle, he tripped in the transformed Busan Station and got eaten by a monster from his feet up.
In the second, I died first, but his condition must have worsened. In the third, he likely died from blood loss after covering a glass door with his body to protect others and losing an arm.
Finally, in my fourth cycle.
"Life's a fucking mess..."
Kim Joo-chul and I successfully escaped Busan Station, but shortly after, a hound-like monster bit off his left leg.
Though he passed out instantly, I managed to stop the bleeding and keep him conscious. Once awake, he panted heavily and muttered.
"I dragged this crippled leg around my whole life, but now that it's gone, I feel relieved."
"......"
"Young man, there's a football stadium nearby. Could we stop by there for a bit?"
I carried Kim Joo-chul to what would likely be his final destination in this life.
With one leg gone, his weight was quite light. As he lay on my back, he drifted in and out of consciousness.
"Ahh..."
Carefully, I set him down in the stadium's stands.
The stadium had been partly destroyed, likely due to monsters rampaging through. Debris was scattered across the field and the seats.
"Why does it look so wide now? It used to be much narrower. It was narrower..."
For a while, Kim Joo-chul mumbled, "Wide, so wide."
"Mr. Undertaker."
His face was pale as he spoke. It was the first and last time he addressed me as "mister," though I was much younger than him.
"Thank you. Thank you so much, but that's enough now. I'm content..."
I understood entirely what he wanted to say.
I took a Silver bell from my pocket and placed it around my wrist. It was my ritual.
"Are you sure? As you know, once you fall under my ability, you'll be forgotten by everyone."
"Forgotten? I don't care. To disappear from this world is comforting. What reason do I have to stay in this fucked-up place? Please, just erase me from the world."
Kim Joo-chul smiled faintly.
"I'm tired now."
"......"
"Oh, right. In that dream or whatever, will I be able to realize that I'm dreaming? I mean..."
"You won't."
I shook my head.
"The person will simply repeat their happiest day forever, without realizing it's repeating."
"That's a relief. If you remember everything, it would be torture, right? Even the happiest moment would become tedious after repeating it... That's good. Do I just close my eyes?"
"Yes."
"Thank you, doc. Really."
In many ways, Kim Joo-chul was an ordinary man.
There was no particular reason to remember him out of all the people I'd laid to rest.
Even so, I remembered Kim Joo-chul for a long time because of his last words.
"Kim Si-eun, Kim Si-eun. My son... Born November 11. My son's name is Si-eun."
Most people who drifted into dreams asked me to remember them, but Kim Joo-chul muttered his son's name until the end.
"My son."
Jingle.
The bell rang as I activated my ability.
That was how Kim Joo-chul said goodbye on my timeline.
It took many long years before I finally met the heir to his last words.
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