Black Badger

When she was bright and young.

Before the war began, Maya had once met two men.

The fact that she even knew of them meant she had already risen to a certain height. To think she would be able to meet them—

that meant she had finally stepped out of the shadow of her famous hard-line politician father and secured her own place as a remarkable politician.

In truth, until she received the address, Maya suspected their existence was nothing more than an urban legend.

She wondered if everyone was determined to deceive her.

It only felt real after she received the address.

When she stepped into the living space they used—their strictly controlled district—she had been so tense she thought she might choke.

The innermost core where only the highest of the elite gathered.

A slightly cool atmosphere. A space with few objects.

When she stepped out of the long, dark corridor, a modern room appeared. Scattered across the Italian leather chairs sat people whose names no one could possibly fail to recognize. The clear sound of ice clinking against transparent glasses rang out.

At the center were the two men, sitting on a deep green sofa.

White hair, and black hair.

Shining golden eyes.

The moment she saw the men sitting side by side, Maya inhaled sharply.

Just sitting there, they overwhelmed their surroundings.

We gave them instinctive nicknames.

Maya stood rooted to the spot, recalling what her political mentor had once told her.

Their hair is black and white. Lucifer and Michael. The black-haired one is Lucifer, the white-haired one is Michael.

That’s such a tacky nickname.

I agree. But it suits them well. When you see them in person, you’ll understand.

She understood her mentor’s words.

The figures lounging on the sofa, their hair falling in careless lengths down to their waists as they received high-ranking human officials, wielded a charisma that seized the eye.

It didn’t come from their refined features.

Nor could it be attributed simply to their vividly glowing eyes.

It was something forged from the hardships they had overcome, the victories they had grasped, the authority they had maintained.

Perhaps the elegance created by their own unique form of etiquette also played a part.

You know this, Maya.

Still unable to muster the resolve to approach, she recalled her mentor’s warning.

They’re dangerous.

I know. My father warns me to the point of exhaustion.

Most people are more wary of Lucifer. He certainly has a temper, and he’s more arrogant and more aggressive.

It certainly seemed so.

Those curly black strands spilled across the sofa and over a white shirt.

He was someone to whom monochrome suited almost too perfectly. White skin, eyes tilted upward, a bored gaze.

A presence that stimulated the instinctual wariness of any human. Any ordinary person standing before him would find their spine locking tight.

“Let me pour you a drink.”

Just like the person now approaching him with trembling hands to offer whisky.

The black-haired being lifted the corners of his mouth lazily, his gaze penetrating straight through the other.

“Go ahead.”

Without rising, he lifted an empty crystal glass.

Every movement radiated confidence and pride. One could glimpse his certainty in the things he held in his grasp.

Maya knew she herself would not be able to act casually before such a man.

The politicians standing before the black-haired one were far more rigid than those who faced the white-haired one.

But remember this.

She shifted her gaze toward the white-haired man, retracing the mentor’s words.

Michael is more dangerous.

White hair.

Layered, straight white hair. A relaxed and gentle atmosphere contrasting with the ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) black-haired one’s arrogant indolence. The man lounged casually on the sofa, smiling as he listened to a general’s greeting.

His tanned skin created a beautiful contrast with the white hair.

Don’t be fooled by his refreshing smile and kind demeanor. He has eyes that see reality exactly as it is.

He must be free of arrogance then.

It’s the opposite. Because he sees reality clearly, he can’t afford arrogance.

That almost sounds like praise.

He loves his own kind.

Her mentor spoke gravely.

Any living being becomes aggressive when it has something it wants to protect. Keep that in mind, Maya.

Maya walked toward the two beings.

Carrying the immaturity of a young politician, her hatred toward her father, her sense of duty as a human, and her own personal curiosity.

Hoping—even if they didn’t remember her name—that at least they would remember her face, she stepped toward Kyle and Hildebert.

That would become her first and last meeting with the Titan leaders.

Her first and last meeting with Kyle.

***

Less than a year later—

Maya encountered someone in her own home whom she believed she would never see again.

She had been hiding in the attic.

When she regained consciousness and crawled out, she saw the edge of the carpet soaked with blood. At first, Maya thought it was her own. A few hours earlier, her father had beaten her viciously.

But soon, she realized the carpet was far too red for the blood to be hers.

And then she realized something else.

Her father was sitting on the sofa as a corpse.

“Michael.”

She muttered it when she saw the man standing before the corpse, wiping a knife.

The man slowly turned his head.

“Ah.”

With his hand clad in a black glove, holding a white napkin as he wiped the blood from the blade, Hildebert made a detached sound.

He turned his gaze back to the knife.

“That was another term used to refer to me.”

He didn’t seem intent on running.

Nor did he seem inclined to hide the murder from her. Clad in a black suit that seemed to swallow even the light, he wiped the blade clean beneath the dim glow of a night-light in the study.

His long, radiant white hair hung loose.

When the blade gleamed enough to reflect the dim lamp, he sheathed the dagger.

Maya watched the entire process in a daze, right up until Hildebert shifted as if preparing to leave.

The moment he moved, she snapped back to herself.

“Did you kill my father?”

Hilde stopped.

His refined face bore none of the smile she had seen when she first met him.

“Yes.”

Cold golden eyes settled on her.

“If I had been any later, there would have been two corpses. Your father would have beaten you to death.”

“You knew I was here and came in anyway?”

Suddenly anger surged inside her.

“Why? Do abused children not matter? Is it that even if the murder is discovered, it doesn’t matter because I’d be glad my father is dead anyway?”

“You people can’t imprison me.”

Hildebert did not return her anger.

Standing there, he spoke plainly.

“I was never someone who existed socially in the first place. The upper ranks hide what they created, and they work hard to hide us. They know they can’t imprison us. Why else do you think they place such ridiculous numbers of bodyguards?”

“Did you kill all of them too?”

“No. They’re all alive.”

“Why are you so brazen?”

She clenched her teeth and demanded it.

“How can you stand there like that before me? You killed someone’s father mercilessly just because he threatened your faction’s position!”

“Maya Barrett. Don’t pretend to be naïve.”

Hildebert answered coldly.

“You’re well aware your father chose the extreme.”

The fact that he knew her name shocked her.

She had long since left politics. Even walking outside, she had become just another unremarkable citizen no one recognized.

And her first meeting with him had been brief and uneventful—she never imagined he would remember her name.

But the shock didn’t last.

A storm of tangled emotions shook her.

Guilt and relief. Hatred and gratitude.

She didn’t want to admit she felt relieved and grateful.

“If he had bowed his head quietly, your father wouldn’t have tried to choose the extreme.”

“It’s the problem that he tried to chop off the heads of those who bowed. He picked a fight he couldn’t win, and when he stood to lose, he tried to burn everything down.”

“Why did you come in?”

She couldn’t avoid asking it.

“You knew I was inside—so why did you come in? You could easily have chosen a time when my father was alone.”

Hildebert didn’t answer.

He merely looked at her for a moment, then moved. His suit was immaculate, not a single drop of blood on it. The sheathed dagger disappeared neatly into the inside pocket.

Nothing about his appearance would make anyone imagine he had just killed a man.

The spotless man stepped toward the staircase, bathed in the ivory lamplight.

Maya cried out.

“Why did you come in NOW!!”

The man, one hand on the railing, halted.

“Maya.”

Hildebert moved only his eyes to look at her.

“Change your identity and go somewhere far.”

Maya stared at him through falling tears.

“I opened the safe. Take what’s inside and run. You can start over. It’s enough money for a new life.”

“Don’t act like you’re doing charity.”

At her furious words, Hildebert let out a low laugh.

A laugh like he had just heard something utterly absurd. Maya watched, breath shallow, as that white-haired being let the laughter fade.

It was nothing like the smile she had seen in that pristine, official room.

Back then, he had smiled in a way that suited the nickname Michael.

But this laughter—why was it so chilling?

Maya realized he felt not the slightest regret for the murder he’d committed.

The elegant killer looked back at her, still holding a faint smile.

“Charity? Hardly.”

His golden eyes narrowed.

“I’m not that shameless. Maya. I am your father’s enemy. If you fail to burn that hatred down to the end, then one day—come kill me.”

After saying that, he turned and descended the stairs.

Leaving behind the sound of immaculate footsteps.

Maya never forgot the last thing Hildebert said.

“I don’t know if anything will be left on Earth by then.”

That was their final encounter.

***

Soon after, the war broke out.

Changing her identity was easy. She lived a second life. Simpler, more ordinary than the first, but all the happier for it.

To the point she sometimes forgot his last words.

But the moment she saw the video, everything returned.

From that moment on, she began working her mind furiously. She gathered information during breaks at work, making sure their paths could cross. It wasn’t a difficult task. In truth, thanks to that live broadcast, she was in an advantage far greater than the swarms of paparazzi who had sprung up.

She was a general administrative employee of the Black Badgers.

Not a Black Badger with an enhanced body—just a regular civil servant who wrote reports.

Fate was strange like that.

In the end, only a few days later, she succeeded. She encountered Hilde at the Black Badger headquarters café.

The rookie Badger, sitting by the sunny window with a tired face.

He was chatting with his seniors at the café.

Maya quietly sat at the table behind him.

After ordering an Americano, she didn’t move. Even when the green-eyed senior who kept clicking his tongue and the ex-police senior drinking cinnamon-scented latte got up to smoke, she remained in the seat behind Hilde.

Telling herself she’d quietly go home once she sorted out her feelings.

Holding the warm Americano she hadn’t taken even a single sip of.

“Did you come to kill me?”

A voice mixed with a soft laugh came from ahead.

Maya—no, Isabel—straightened her back sharply and turned her head.

And again faced those dazzling golden eyes.

The one who showed the beautiful smile that suited that childish nickname.

“Long time no see.”

“Michael.”

Isabel opened her mouth the moment she saw Hilde’s eyes.

The words she had wanted to say for so long flowed out easily.

“I’m doing well.”

Words she had longed to say.

“I’ve lived my second life very well.”

The words she had wanted to say if they ever met again.

Words she wanted to say even if others mocked her for it.

Hearing that, Hilde smiled brightly.

A radiant smile that suited his white hair.