Free Web Novel“I killed my mother, I said! I pushed her off a cliff. If you don’t believe me, go climb down there yourself. It’s crawling with Mutations and Capsules, but you might still find a woman’s skeleton. Yeah, she was wearing a necklace. A gold one. I gave it to her for her sixtieth birthday!”
Dragging out an unrelated incident to shut down the other person is a typical deflection tactic of egocentric people.
“I don’t know what you think you’ll learn from a bastard like me, but go ahead. Ask all you want. If you want to believe a son who murdered his own mother.”
But still, I wonder—was that really necessary?
Isn’t that the kind of thing that exposes your deepest filth?
Especially in a Confucian society like Korea, where such things are deeply taboo.
This doubt only deepened after I spoke with other survivors in the tunnel.
“He’s a real dutiful son. He was absolutely devoted to his mother.”
“Every old person with kids envied her. In times like that, no one else treated their mother like that.”
“He had a lot of resources. Maybe that’s why he could afford the luxury of filial piety.”
Byun Han-soo, the so-called “Dutiful Son,” really was, in many ways, worthy of the title.
But still, not everyone was convinced.
Some people, tucked away on the fringes of the group, started to cautiously offer a different angle.
“He didn’t have any family. Not even a wife, let alone kids, even at his age. If you’ve got no one else to care for, of course you dote on your mother.”
“I heard he used to be a thug. Never says much, but they say he was in and out of juvie and prison like it was his second home. Honestly, I get why we’re stuck with him, but that guy's shady.”
I brushed off the usual gossip, but then a voice came from the shadows with something harder to ignore.
“He really did take care of her. That’s true. But something about it always felt off. You know... the way his mother disappeared? She fell off a cliff.”
Byun Han-soo’s mother vanished under suspicious circumstances.
There were plenty of reasons to question the timing.
The speaker was once a leader of another refugee group that had been absorbed by Byun Han-soo’s faction.
He didn’t give his name. His left leg was gone below the knee, and altogether he had just six fingers between both hands.
Most of all, he looked worse than Byun Han-soo—constantly coughing up blood, and every time he did, his face turned chalk-white, almost paper-like.
Even without medical knowledge, it was clear he didn’t have long.
“...It’s the timing, really. Cough! Cough! His mom disappeared right when they ran out of supplies. He only survived thanks to a miracle—found a hidden government stockpile. But when his mom went missing, they had nothing.”
Because Pyo Won-sang had decided to make this tunnel the first mid-route supply base, we were set to stay in the area for a full day.
M9 and I wandered through the tunnel, interviewing people.
Some stories were intriguing. Some were grim.
Of course, I asked about Jeong Dae-kyung. No one had heard the name—but I did pick up an interesting rumor.
“There’s a powerful Awakened near Gyeongju. They say he’s on par with Savior Kang Han-min or Na Hye-in. Some warlord tried to take him down and got wiped out.”
An unknown, high-level Awakened near Gyeongju.
At least three different people mentioned it.
But the info was vague ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) and unverified.
The claims all sounded similar—probably one person heard it somewhere and spread it throughout the tunnel.
The only one who might know more? Dutiful Son.
At least he knew the name Jeong Dae-kyung.
But he wasn’t going to talk. freeweɓnøvel.com
“......”
Unfortunately, there was no good solution.
If I were Defender, I’d have grabbed him and tortured the truth out—but I’m not Defender, and manhandling someone who’s technically a government collaborator is far outside my authority.
Just as I was settling in for another round of pointless waiting, my partner M9 walked up to me again.
They call it silent understanding.
I’m starting to think I can read his mind just from a glance.
Captain M9 said:
“Wanna head down there real quick?”
*
Acrobatics—called “acrobatique” in other places—isn’t exactly popular in Korea, but overseas, it’s a respected physical art form, especially in specialized professions.
Kim Daram, among the people I know, has unmatched acrobatic skills.
She combines the flexibility of a woman with the explosive strength of a man—she literally runs up walls.
Even while carrying over 10 kg of firearms and gear.
But M9’s acrobatics are nothing to scoff at either.
Everyone knows he lived for nearly four years in a tilted apartment complex.
Just like the environment shapes the person, that building shaped M9.
Living in Korea’s last luxury complex, he evolved into a long-armed gibbon fit for luxury survival.
“Hey, what are you doing, Skelton? You’re not coming down?”
Even for a top-tier Hunter like me, going down a sheer cliff is insanely risky.
Sure, I’ve trained in rock climbing and scaled some gnarly slopes before—but vertical cliffs? That’s goat territory, not human.
Yet M9 casually climbed down the cliff face without gear or safety equipment, leaping from ledge to ledge.
“...Just a second. Wait for me.”
My squad would’ve found this hilarious if they’d seen it.
But if I were the team leader on a real mission, I’d never have chosen this insane route.
It’s only because this isn’t a combat mission, there are no enemy forces around, and M9’s a lunatic, that I agreed to this madness.
Unlike M9, I’m not at peace with slopes. I haven’t accepted them as fate.
So I moved slowly, cautiously.
And unlike M9, who only carried a handgun, I had full gear on, including a rifle.
There was an easier route along a gentle ridge, but we took this dangerous slope because GPS doesn’t work well in the mountains, and if you stray even slightly from the target location, you could end up combing the wrong valley.
Especially in Korea, where mountain ridges are endless and intricate—even seasoned officers can get lost if it’s not their home terrain.
Sometimes, taking the direct—albeit riskier—path is more accurate and saves time.
Mountain daylight hours are short too. That fact also justified the risk.
Besides, with the right path, you could bypass the cliff and descend via a steep slope. That’s why we chose this route.
Of course, I hammered in pitons and set ropes at key points.
That’s for the climb back up.
“Wow. This is a jungle. A real jungle. Can’t see a thing.”
While M9 scanned the surroundings, I kept watch with my weapon drawn.
Every mountain has its own feel.
Some feel quiet and serene. But others carry an overwhelming force of nature that suffocates you with tension.
This mountain was the latter.
The Rifts are the symbol of humanity’s end—but the excessive, ruthless growth of the leaves, vines, and twisted branches here made “primordial fear” feel like more than a phrase.
The chance of Mutations showing up was low.
But this is their terrain.
Even a first-class Hunter won’t survive an ambush.
I stayed on high alert, watching for any signs of danger while M9 did his work.
“There’s nothing here. Not even bones.”
“Yeah?”
Did Byun Han-soo lie?
It’s very possible.
Some had hinted he was a parricide, but most said he treated his mother better than anyone else.
While everyone else starved, he made sure she had the best food.
When everyone shivered in the cold, she always had a warm bed.
That might’ve been because he was the leader of this group—originally a bandit faction—but even back when they were poor, he still took care of her.
Considering how quickly bandit leaders get blamed and executed when times get tough, that says something.
The clock said 2:00 PM.
The mountains darken fast.
Especially in valleys like this—once the sun sets, it becomes pitch black instantly.
Even regular mountain terrain isn’t fit for people. Add darkness, and it's hopeless.
Many Mutations are nocturnal.
And they’re worse at night.
“Let’s wrap up?”
Just as we were about to head out, M9 sniffed the air.
“Hey.”
He waved me over.
I tilted my head.
Below the cliff, past some swaying vines like willow branches, there was a narrow hole.
Wind was blowing out from it.
A cave.
Inside, we found a single, skeletal corpse.
Around the decayed neck hung a gold necklace—a symbol of permanence that once mesmerized humans—now swaying limply.
*
It was only natural that we returned to see Dutiful Son.
I knew he didn’t like us, and especially didn’t want to talk about Jeong Dae-kyung—but I needed that information.
And honestly? I didn’t care what Byun Han-soo or “Dutiful Son” wanted.
If this were a battlefield, and he were just another inhabitant, I wouldn’t have hesitated to use violence to get what I needed.
As soon as he saw us, his face soured. I shoved the gold necklace toward him, reeking of corpse scent.
The effect was immediate.
His scowl crumbled.
“Th-this is...?”
He looked at M9.
M9, smiling as always, added cheerfully:
“Hyung-nim. I took your advice. Went down that cliff.”
Byun Han-soo’s face flooded with emotion.
Even a guy like me—cold and dull—could recognize the dominant one was sorrow.
“...Is that so.”
His personal story wasn’t important.
I waited for him to collect himself and asked again about Jeong Dae-kyung.
The conclusion? Not worth all this trouble.
“He’s in Gyeongju. Leads the strongest group down there. A terrifying Awakened. Took out Director Park Pil-jae’s entire warlord faction singlehandedly.”
His intel only added slight clarity to the vague rumor we already had from the tunnel.
Nothing new. Nothing surprising.
Except for one unconfirmed suspicion.
“Sounds crazy, but they say he’s trying to build a city inside a Rift. There’s evidence. Apparently, he loaded hundreds of people into buses and dumped them inside. The buses came back empty.”
Abandoning people isn't even surprising anymore.
We saw that kind of thing over four years ago.
Anyway, I figured that was the end of our business in this damp, stinking tunnel city.
“Wait. Just a minute.”
Byun Han-soo still had something left to say.
I wasn’t thrilled, but maybe it was part of the price of receiving information.
M9 already had his phone recording and was listening intently.
Standing beside him, I heard the man known as “Dutiful Son” begin his story.
He rolled up his sleeve.
His forearm wasn’t covered with colorful tattoos like those popular before the war. Instead, there was a crudely inked heart with a dagger through it, done by hand with a needle and soot.
“...I was a real piece of shit as a kid. Motorcycles, glue sniffing, butane gas. Fights were nothing. I did Arirang-jacking too. Killed a guy. Fucked around endlessly. Gang rape, fed liquor to clueless girls and raped them. I was human trash. No saving me.”
One of the stories we’d heard in the tunnel turned out to be true.
“But my mom... she never gave up on me. Not once.”
He shut his eyes tight, and a deep sigh spilled from his chest.
“I made a promise. My life was already ruined, but I’d take care of her until the end. I was already a son of a bitch, but at least for the last stretch, I’d be a good son. I think I was in my late thirties. After fifteen years in prison, my mother came to pick me up in Cheongsong. That’s when I swore.”
He worked in a factory and lived with his mother—until the war broke out.
You know the rest.
Already a man of presence, Byun Han-soo became a raider and quickly rose to leadership.
He did plenty of horrible things—but he kept his promise.
While other elderly were actively abandoned or left behind, he cared for his mother with devotion.
That’s when he earned the nickname Dutiful Son—once the most wretched of sons.
But the end comes for everyone, fast or slow, during collapse. freēwēbηovel.c૦m
His group hit a wall.
Nothing left to loot. No resources to scavenge.
The weather turned erratic. Their crops failed. Game was hunted down by superior competitors—Mutations.
They barely survived the long winter. But Byun Han-soo saw the end was near.
He’d already had his life threatened several times by his own men—and thought of his mother.
“...I was a bastard when I was young. But I became a good son in the end, right? But who decides who’s a dutiful son or not? Outsiders? Maybe. But the real judge... is the parent, right?”
At the edge of the cliff, he wanted her to remember him as a good son.
So he brought his mother there, spoke a few kind words, and they looked out at the mountains together.
Then, suddenly, he struck her in the back of the head with a brick he’d prepared in advance.
Arirang-jacking.
A method he once used to kill a stranger’s parent and land himself in prison—now repeated on his own beloved mother.
She fell from the cliff—thick with foliage like a jungle.
“She probably died instantly. No time to feel anything. Like flipping a switch.”
Byun Han-soo sneered.
“That’s how I stayed a dutiful son.”
M9 shook his head.
“I’m sorry, hyung-nim.”
With a sigh just as heavy, M9 showed him the screen of his phone.
“Your mother didn’t die.”
Her body wasn’t found beneath the cliff.
She’d fallen, survived, and crawled into a narrow crevice.
And it didn’t end there.
M9 showed one more photo.
Carved into the wall with a sharp rock, barely legible:
[ I love you, Hanㅅ ]
I didn’t look at Byun Han-soo’s face.
But one thing was certain.
No matter what he’d done—he remained a dutiful son.
