Chapter Text
When the trio—Cale, Choi Han, and Jung Soo—returned to the round table, they didn’t find the ominous, endless void they’d grown accustomed to. Instead, they stepped into the embrace of a cozy gazebo, warm light filtering through the slatted wood, casting gentle, flickering shadows around them. The usual cold, featureless emptiness had been replaced by the faint scent of sweet flowers and fresh air.
At the center of it all, the round table sat exactly as it always had—sturdy and familiar. But instead of the dreaded bowl of papers, waiting to serve up yet another grim scenario, there was something infinitely better: a three-layer cake. Candles stood proudly on top, their unlit wicks promising a moment of celebration. The cake was elaborate, each tier decorated in shades of frosting that looked too perfect to touch—almost as if daring them to mess up its immaculate surface.
Cale looked between the cake and the two men at his side, bewilderment flashing briefly across his face. Beside him, Choi Han’s eyes shone with an unexpected gentleness, the usual intensity softened as he took in the sight of the table. Jung Soo, on the other hand, simply let out a small laugh, his shoulders relaxing as he took in the scene. After everything, the trials, the endless challenges—they had finally earned this.
A soft chiming sound made them turn, and there, on the opposite side of the table, stood a figure that caught all of them by surprise. It was the screen—but now, it had taken on a humanoid form. Though its face was blurred, leaving its features indistinct, there was a set of glowing wings that framed its outline, a faint, almost angelic presence. The sight made Cale bristle slightly, his mouth set in a frown as he glanced away. He’d seen enough strange and powerful beings to know better than to add another one to his mental list. Still, for the sake of this celebration, he bit back his skepticism.
The screen-turned-angelic figure nodded at them, its voice as clear as ever but now tinged with an unexpected warmth. “Congratulations,” it said simply, gesturing towards the cake. “You’ve completed every scenario. You’ve overcome every trial. And now—” the figure’s wings seemed to shimmer faintly—“this is part of your reward. A moment to celebrate. A well-earned victory.”
Cale felt a mixture of amusement and exasperation well up in him. After everything, this was the grand finale? But as he exchanged a glance with Choi Han, and then with Jung Soo, the disbelief started to melt away, replaced by something deeper, something warmer. They’d survived. They’d fought, bickered, strategized, and clawed their way through countless trials together. And now, they were here, in one piece. Together.
Jung Soo grinned, clapping both of them on the back. “Well, what are we waiting for? I didn’t come all this way to stare at a cake!”
“Alright, alright,” Cale muttered, unable to resist the smile tugging at his lips. They gathered around, their hands hovering as they steadied each other, bracing for the cheesy, embarrassing part—making a wish.
“Ready?” Choi Han asked, his usually intense eyes soft with affection and relief.
They exchanged one last look, three warriors, three survivors, and then, together, they leaned forward and blew out the candles. The soft glow of the flames vanished, and for a moment, all that remained was the faint wisp of smoke and the quiet sound of their laughter.
After their laughter had settled and the first bites of cake were taken, the trio leaned back in their chairs, the atmosphere shifting from celebration to a calm, shared relief. The three of them exchanged glances, as if silently daring each other to be the first to bring up the whirlwind of trials they had endured. And, almost sensing this, the Screen—now taking on an unexpected, almost human warmth in its new form—cleared its throat.
“So,” it began, a hint of curiosity in its voice, “now that you’ve finished, let’s hear it. What’s the best scenario you’ve gone through? And the worst?”
Jung Soo, unable to resist the urge to go first, chuckled softly. “Best one?” He grinned, glancing at Choi Han, who instantly raised a brow, as if already predicting what was coming. “It’s gotta be the ‘Part-Time Job’ one. You know, actually doing something so… normal felt good. I even got to work in a cafe! Felt like I’d finally gotten a taste of a mundane life.”
Cale snorted, remembering that particular trial. “Right. Mundane—until you got kicked in the gut. Remind me, who was responsible for that?”
Choi Han’s face flushed a little, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “It was an accident, okay. He startled me first.”
Jung Soo laughed, waving a hand. “It’s fine, really. I know how these scenarios go by now. Wouldn’t have been a proper day without one of us getting a bruise.”
The Screen chuckled too, interjecting. “Oh yes, I remember that part quite well. You were thrown across the room, weren’t you? Impressive form.”
“Uh-huh. I had plenty of practice on my form,” Jung Soo rolled his eyes but grinned. “ Anyway, worst scenario?” His expression shifted, shuddering involuntarily. “The first one. The spiders.” He visibly paled. “I still get chills just thinking about it. The other bad ones? I’d say most of them had a bit of redemption. But the spiders… yeah, no thanks.”
The Screen hummed knowingly. “Yes, arachnophobia has an amusing effect on people… or so I’ve been told.”
Jung Soo threw it a pointed glare. “Hilarious.” And yet the winged being, still as playful as they are infuriating, just twirled around as if it still has its ‘screen’ form.
Choi Han took a slow breath, his turn next. “For me, I think… the ‘Family’ scenario was the best.” His voice grew quiet, thoughtful. “It’s been so long since I’ve… well, felt something like that.” He avoided Cale’s curious gaze but nodded to himself, a rare, nostalgic smile softening his features.
The Screen let out a gentle hum. “Interesting choice. But I suppose, there was a foreighn warmth to that one, ay~”
“As for the worst,” Choi Han continued, blatantly ignoring the other’s taunt—-Cale and Jung Soo snickered at how that had caused the winged being to pout on the corner animatedly. “Swords.” That Swordmaster’s voice hardened, and his gaze turned distant. “Definitely that one.”
Cale glanced at him with curiosity, sensing a deeper story he wasn’t being told. But Jung Soo, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, leaned back with a taunting grin that didn’t go unnoticed by Choi Han. “Oh, that one was a particularly hard day for you, huh, Choi Han?”
Choi Han shot him a look but kept silent, though the memory alone seemed to make his jaw tighten. The Screen, however, chimed in with gleeful timing, clearly thriving on Choi Han’s discomfort. Their giggles filled the air, practically mocking him.
"Oh, that one! A true hit to one’s dignity, wouldn’t you say? Pffft—pride laid low by a crowd of kids! But hey," the Screen continued with exaggerated cheer, "despite everything, wasn’t it still an interesting experience? A true, once-in-a-lifetime delight!"
Choi Han’s eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue, letting the Screen prattle on, adding to the absurdity of it all.
Finally, Cale shrugged, jumping in. “Well, the best one for me was ‘Slacker.’ Not much competition there. It’s pretty clear what I was born to do, and that’s not fighting every day.” He paused, rolling his eyes a bit as if it were obvious. “Sure, there was a bit of pain involved”—there always is—”but overall, nothing compares.”
“Ah yes,” the Screen nodded, its voice amused—clearly knowing more as to why that particular scenario was Cale’s favorite. “It was enlightening to see you enjoying something so… fitting.”
Cale ignored that and continued. “The worst, though? ‘You are Alive.’” He cringed, visibly uncomfortable even just mentioning it. “The pain… was ridiculous. And I don’t see why any of us need to go through pain for… whatever the lesson was supposed to be.”
“Oho~?” the Screen mused with a smirk. “That one was designed to test your resolve—and pain tolerance. A memorable performance, I’d say!”
Cale shot it a flat look, muttering, “Not my idea of a prize.”
The Screen giggled gleefully, its usual mocking tone softened by something oddly affectionate, watching them with a warmth that was almost familial. “Well, now that’s all over, why don’t you rest those weary bones of yours for a while?" it said, almost as if it genuinely cared. "After all, you might want a bit of peace before diving into the next part of your prize~ And nooo," it added, seeing their wary looks, "before you get all tense, it really is an actual gift this time! No tricks, no fights, nothing to mess with your mind or body—I promise .”
For the first time, the Screen’s presence felt almost… invested. It wasn’t just the faceless architect of their challenges or the mysterious entity orchestrating their trials. In this rare moment, it felt like someone more grounded, something almost human.
The group exchanged glances, a flicker of curiosity melting into cautious relief. For all their skepticism, maybe this once, they could allow themselves to believe it.