Byeol loved chicken. Anything made with chicken was just delicious. She enjoyed everything from chicken breast salad to chicken noodle soup, but her favorite was fried chicken. The crispy coating combined with the tender meat was simply irresistible. Early in the morning, Byeol opened the fridge with a small giggle. “No one’s here, hehe.” She found the leftover spicy fried chicken from last night and dug in. With her hands and mouth covered in sauce, she took a big bite of a chicken drumstick and sucked the sauce off her fingers. After cleaning out the box, she took it outside to dispose of it properly, then returned to the house and lay down on the sofa to doze off. By the time Do-Jun returned from a light stroll, it was lunchtime. Byeol was sprawled on the sofa, fast asleep. He knew she had woken up at some point because her lips were smeared with bright red sauce. Do-Jun opened the fridge and confirmed the box of leftover chicken was missing. Byeol must have eaten it for breakfast. He poured boiling water from the coffee pot into a mug and added a sprig of herb from the Celestial Realm, located on the fourth floor of the Core. The herb, known for its properties of enhancing magic purity, was highly prized in the Celestial Realm. “Mm... chicken...” Byeol mumbled in her sleep, then rolled over and almost fell off the sofa. Do-Jun flicked his hand, sending a gust of wind to swirl beneath her. The wind cushioned Byeol, gently lowering her to the floor. She rolled over once more, blinked her eyes open, and looked at Do-Jun before waddling toward him. Do-Jun smiled, lifted her, and sat her on his lap. However, Byeol was still groggy, her eyes drooping. She glanced at the clock’s hour hand, which pointed to twelve. A loud rumble came from her stomach. “Hungry?” Do-Jun asked her. “What do you want to eat?” Byeol pondered her options: fried chicken, pork belly, pizza, black bean noodles, and kimchi stew, to name a few. Still, she didn’t take long to decide. “Chickin’s the best.” “Even though you had it for breakfast?” Byeol averted her gaze, her eyes darting around. There was no way her daddy would know she ate chicken in the morning. She had already disposed of the evidence with the building’s security guard. “Huh? Who ate chickin for bwekfest? Definitely not me!” she said. The dried sauce on her lips betrayed her words, and every time she spoke, a faint scent of chicken drifted up. Do-Jun lifted Byeol, pressing his ear to her belly. “But I hear chicken sounds coming from your stomach. You had spicy chicken, didn’t you?” Startled, Byeol quickly covered her belly with her hands. “You can hear chickin noises?” Caught in her lie, Byeol drooped her head. “Okay... I ate chickin for bwekfest...” Do-Jun chuckled, gently setting her on the floor. Eating chicken for breakfast didn’t mean she couldn’t have it again for lunch. Deciding to indulge her, Do-Jun put on a coat over his shirt. Then he put earmuffs on Byeol and dressed her in a duck-printed jacket. Today, they were heading to Namdaemun Market. These days, traditional markets were becoming less popular. Nearby supermarkets boasted clean interiors and spacious, convenient parking, making them popular among younger people. But traditional markets still had their own charm, a sense of “life” that supermarkets couldn’t replicate, so Do-Jun still visited them now and then. Although the number of visitors had dwindled over time, traditional markets still attracted a steady crowd. The bustling streets were lined with restaurants claiming to have “original” recipes. Elderly women carried trays laden with side dishes on their heads, weaving through the crowds, while homemakers haggled with shopkeepers over fresh produce. A five-minute walk into the market brought them to a red sign that read, “Old-Fashioned Original Fried Chicken.” Unlike modern fried chicken with heavy batter, this shop served whole chickens fried with barely any coating. The chicken was then torn apart by hand, creating a unique and flavorful experience. “Wow! A chickin shop!” Byeol exclaimed. Chickens were being fried in large cauldrons, and the display racks showcased glistening, golden chickens dripping with oil. Byeol dashed toward the shop, staring intently at the owner as he cooked. She then read the price sign aloud and gasped in shock. One chicken: 5,000 won Two chickens: 8,000 won Usually, one chicken would cost more than 15,000 won, but here, two chickens were only 8,000 won. “That’s so cheap!” Byeol exclaimed in surprise. Do-Jun approached the shopkeeper and handed him a 10,000-won bill. “Can we get two chickens, please? We’ll eat here.” Two roasted chickens were served with pickled radish, salt, and mustard sauce as complimentary condiments. The shop owner expertly tore the chickens into bite-sized pieces, making them easy to eat. Using a silver fork, Byeol poked a large piece of chicken and popped it into her mouth, chewing happily. Her delighted expression made Do-Jun smile softly. Hmm? Do-Jun noticed a person lingering at the shop entrance. An elderly woman with a wrinkled face stood there, wearing loose pants and a plain summer top. Her attire was more appropriate for a warm summer day than the cold winter weather outside. She held an old-fashioned multicolored purse in her hands. “Young man, could I get one fried chicken?” she asked the shop owner, who was busy frying the chickens. However, the owner didn’t respond, moving busily around the kitchen to prepare chicken, refill oil, and serve other customers. Her rough, calloused hands trembled slightly. With her hunched back and frail frame, she appeared to be in her seventies. When her calls went unanswered, the old woman lingered there for quite some time. Byeol, who had been munching on chicken, jumped down from her chair and waddled over to the shop owner. She tugged at his apron and said, “Mistah, Gwemma is calling you.” “Mhm. She’s asking for a chickin.” Byeol pointed toward the entrance, and the shop owner followed her finger. But there was no one there. He chuckled and patted Byeol’s head. “You shouldn’t joke around like that. There’s no grandma here.” At this, Byeol frowned. She marched back to the old woman and reached for her hand. However, her small hand passed right through the old woman’s. Byeol tried again, but the result was the same—her hand went right through. It wasn’t just Byeol. Other customers passed through the old woman as if she weren’t there. “But... she’s weally here... standing wight here...” Byeol’s voice trembled. The shop owner scratched his head in confusion. Do-Jun, who had been watching the scene, stood up. He approached the old woman, who was barely a hundred and fifty centimeters tall. But the woman ignored him, continuing to call out to the shop owner. “Young man, just one chicken, please.” The old woman was what people called a wandering spirit. Her soul lingered in this world without a physical body to belong to. Normally, souls would pass on to the afterlife, but this one remained, likely due to strong earthly attachments or an inability to recognize her own death. “Ma’am,” Do-Jun addressed her gently. The old woman turned toward him as someone finally noticed her. “Are you here to buy some chicken?” Do-Jun asked. The woman replied, “My grandson is on vacation from the military, and he loves chicken. I came to buy one for him, but the young man keeps ignoring me. Could you please talk to him for me? I’ll pay for it.” She untied the string of her colorful purse and pulled out four bills. They were 1,000-won bills, but they were purple—a design from several years ago, unlike the modern blue bills. “Of course.” Do-Jun smiled as he accepted the money. For some reason, he could touch her and the items she held, unlike everyone else. Soon after, he grabbed the box of fried chicken and asked her, “Where do you live? I’ll walk you home.” Following the old woman’s lead, they reached a dilapidated house. The nameplate read Kim Wol-Soon. The house, lacking even a street address, appeared untouched for decades. The rusted metal gate groaned and creaked as they entered. The yard was littered with trash and debris, and a heavy silence pervaded the air. Kim Wol-Soon passed through a paper sliding door and entered the house. Do-Jun set the chicken down on the worn wooden floor where the linoleum appeared to have been peeling for some time. Byeol was asleep in his arms, letting out soft snores. The old woman looked at a dusty calendar on a chest of drawers. It was dated August 2010, with the nineteenth circled. “My grandson was supposed to come home on vacation today. I marked it to make sure I wouldn’t forget. It’s his first vacation since joining the military. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for him, not being able to eat what he wants. Poor kid.” “Your grandson must love chicken.” “Oh, yes. The night before he enlisted, he asked for chicken. But I was a useless grandma; I didn’t have the money to buy it. Being the kind and considerate boy he is, he said it was fine and asked me to get it for him the next time he came home. I promised him I would.” The still-steaming chicken filled the room with its aroma. Do-Jun watched as Kim Wol-Soon smiled warmly at the chicken. It was likely she never got to see her grandson on August 19, 2010. Her time had stopped then, leaving her soul unable to move on. She kept reminiscing, saying, “It must have been so hard for him to grow up without his mom and dad, but he never showed it. Such a good boy. I’m so grateful...” “What is your grandson’s name?” Do-Jun asked. The Icarus Guild's headquarters was a luxurious mansion located in Seongbuk-dong, Seoul. A man reclined in an office chair with his feet on the desk and his eyes closed. The shiny nameplate on the desk read “Kang Min-Hyuk, Guild Master.” Suddenly, the door swung open with a bang, and Min-Ji stepped in. “Senior, what are you doing? Aren’t you coming down?” she asked. A few days ago, they had finished clearing an A-rank Great Fissure. To celebrate, some guild members had organized a casual chicken-and-beer party at a nearby restaurant. Min-Hyuk smiled awkwardly and said, “Sorry, I’ll be there. Go ahead first.” “The others are waiting, so don’t take too long!” Min-Ji shut the door behind her. Left alone, Min-Hyuk leaned back in his chair and muttered to himself, “Why does it have to be chicken?”