Chapter 45: Sun & Moon: A Conversation Beyond Chaos

It was a negotiation that was one-sidedly in our favor, but regardless, it was a conversation both parties found satisfying.

Opening the calculator app on my smartphone, I roughly divided 1,320 by 365. Though not exact, it came out to about three years and seven months.

If we assumed that amount of time had passed, the idea was that the monsters would only start reappearing when we were around fifth graders, in the upper years of elementary school.

“Anyway, it’s a good thing.”

Fewer tasks to handle, yet the payment remained the same.

Being able to have a productive conversation with a monster—sometimes it felt like they were easier to communicate with than people.

Since that day, unlike humans who can’t seem to stop spewing lies and deception, the monsters’ appearances had completely ceased, as if someone had flipped a switch.

After several days without a single monster sighting, the ever-persistent media began churning out articles filled with wild speculation.

• “No Monster Sightings for Days: Is the Nightmare of ‘Sun and Moon’ Returning?”
• “A Situation Overlapping with the Monster Swarm Months Ago: Citizens Anxious.”
• “Rep. Kim Criticized for Suggesting, ‘We Should Summon the Magical Girls and Have Them Explain Directly.’”
• “Rep. Seo Says, ‘Current and Reserve Soldiers Should Handle Monsters,’ While Rep. Heo Retorts, ‘A Grade-5 Bureaucrat Shouldn’t Talk So Much.’”

“Let them babble all they want.”

For those of us who knew the real reason behind the monsters’ absence, it was all laughable nonsense.

But the real problem started a few days later.

It all began with a single post on the internet.

No one knew where or how the photo had been taken, but it was an image of a monster holding up a metal plate, flapping it around like a banner. On the plate were clumsily written words: “I want talk, want conversation.”

The fact that pictures of monsters circulated on the internet wasn’t a huge issue.

There were rarely people around when monsters appeared—everyone had either fled or was too far away—and at most, the images would show minor damage to roads or buildings, or the monsters in standoffs with magical girls.

For the general public, monsters were just seen as savage, randomly appearing creatures.

So the very idea of a monster understanding human language and attempting to initiate a conversation came as a massive shock to people.

The media’s fading interest reignited, burning brighter than ever with the photo.

• “A Monster Speaking Human Language? Prof. Kim, a Monster Expert, Says ‘Impossible.'”
• “Sun & Moon: Did They Really Converse with the Monsters?”
• “Incheon’s Monster Silence, a Prelude to Chaos? Links to the Conversational Monster?”
• “0% Chance of Fabrication: Is Communication with Monsters Possible?”
• “Rep. Hwang Urges Investigation into the Connection Between the Mind Flayer Monster and the Magical Girls.”
• “Monsters and Magical Girl Battles: Orchestrated Performances?”

Ignoring the endless stream of sensationalist headlines from media outlets hungry for clicks, this time, the chaos spread to online communities too.

Forums, galleries, cafes, and even messaging apps were abuzz with noise.

And among them, the “Monster Gallery” was particularly lively.
If the general reaction from people was, “Monsters can talk?!” the reaction in this corner was more like,

“We knew it.”

• “I mean, how could anyone not think they were sentient when they’re planning planetary invasions? Are you serious?”
• “Serves those idiots right who kept calling monsters ‘mindless brutes.’”
• “Still screaming ‘impossible,’ huh? Makes me wanna smack someone.”
• “But seriously, which monster would win in a fight against all the others?”
• “We weren’t wrong. What’s wrong is this ‘world.’”
• “So, now who’s the real savage one here?”

The forums were practically a war zone.

Feeling like my sanity would be eroded if I stayed any longer, I pressed the home button and escaped back to the main screen.

“Give me that. Just give me that.”

I pressed the button on the side, turning the screen black, and like it had been waiting for this moment, a bear-like figure crawled on all fours from the corner of the bed and came over to me.

I knew it didn’t have anything to do, but now it was outright demanding the smartphone without any hesitation.

Though I wasn’t planning to refuse, I couldn’t help but throw out a few prickly words.

“This brat’s totally addicted.”

“Hey, come on, it’s not like that…”

Hearing the usual denial you’d expect from someone hooked, I climbed down from the second-floor bed.

Regardless of how noisy the world might be, hunger was creeping in.

Ordinary delivery food didn’t feel satisfying today. What came to mind was that instant spaghetti I had at the villa in Sokcho.

Ordering pasta through delivery usually gets you a portion the size of cup noodles for 20,000 won.

No matter how much Siyeon and I rely on delivery meals, wasting money like that felt ridiculous.

For just 10,000 won, I could fill a frying pan to the brim with pasta and sauce. How could I bring myself to order out?

The frugal instinct deeply embedded in me was hard at work even now.

So, after hurriedly throwing on some clothes:

“I’m heading out,” I said, giving Siyeon a heads-up since she’d be clueless about my whereabouts otherwise.

Rather than a simple acknowledgment, I was met with Siyeon raising her head from the bed and asking,
“Where to?”

“The mart. Wanna come?”

After answering and throwing out a casual invitation:
“Sure!”

“Then get dressed.”

Siyeon instantly agreed with a bright response, eagerly getting up from the bed.

When I tossed a couple of summer clothes from the drawer onto the floor, she began picking them up and putting them on one by one.

Considering her enthusiasm to come along, I figured she was probably aiming for some snacks.

Thanks to these human-like monsters who were even more human than humans, I could leisurely leave the mascots at home and head to the mart.

Walking past the convenience store, we entered the mart we frequented most often. Inside, the cool air-conditioning offered a refreshing reprieve from the sweat that had built up outside.

“Pick whatever you want, but only what you can carry.”
“Okay!”

Leaving Siyeon dashing off ahead, I grabbed one of the plastic baskets provided by the mart and headed for the noodle aisle.

Passing shelves stocked with somen, ramen, and glass noodles, I reached the yellow packages of long pasta noodles.

At 500 grams, the amount was enough to last us three meals in a row, just the two of us.

Though the neighborhood mart didn’t carry smaller sizes, I tossed it into the basket as a compromise.

Now it was time to choose a sauce.

Bacon Bolognese, Meat Tomato, Rose…

To keep it simple, I just grabbed a cheap one in the red tomato category.

“Bacon, bacon…”

Since it felt lacking to only have pasta and sauce, I started thinking about additional ingredients.

Instead of pork belly bacon, I opted for the slightly cheaper, thicker-cut front shoulder bacon.

Not being too picky about food, I casually threw it into the basket.

Having roughly grabbed everything I needed, I found myself nearing the checkout counter.
“Huh?”

“As she said, Siyeon brought only as much as she could carry.

Even with both hands full of snack bags, she managed to wedge more between them, stacking them like a tower.

Siyeon’s cleverness seems to be growing little by little. It turns out that becoming smarter as the days go by isn’t always a good thing.

A trip to the supermarket, free of worries, followed by a carefree return home. Only those who’ve experienced the relief of knowing that no monsters will show up for the time being can understand how much peace of mind that one fact brings.

Just as I was pulling noodles, sauce, and bacon out of the plastic bags and heading toward the kitchen after arriving home—

“Mari?”

The bear casually floated over, smartphone in hand, as if waiting for this exact moment. Assuming it couldn’t possibly be about monsters, I didn’t even look over, responding with a short, casual retort.

“What?”

“There’s been a restricted-number caller trying to reach you for a while now…”

“That’s probably the Minister. What’s up with her?”

Taking the smartphone from the floating bear, I noticed seven missed calls from the restricted number in the call log.

Before I even had time to think, another call came in, the screen once again displaying “Restricted Number.”

I swiped the green button and answered, letting out a formulaic, calm greeting.

“Hello?”

“Sun! Why haven’t you been answering my calls!”

The voice on the other end belonged to none other than that person—no explanation needed.

Her tone was urgent, contrasting sharply with my calm demeanor. I couldn’t imagine what could be so pressing that it had to be said over the phone, so I simply threw back a curt question.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? Haven’t you noticed? Ever since that octopus monster, nothing else has shown up, right?

It’s causing chaos everywhere!”

What should be seen as good news seems to have thrown her side into a frenzy over the sudden change.

For people who concoct thoughtless policies all the time, you’d think they could just shrug this off, but no—they’re needlessly meticulous about this sort of thing.

“Isn’t it good that nothing’s happening?”

“Maybe for you it is…! Do you know anything about it?”

“They just said they wouldn’t come around here anymore. For about three and a half years.”

After I stated the plain truth, a brief silence came from the other end of the line.

The Minister’s voice returned, tinged with disbelief and exasperation.

“…Wait, are you saying you actually talked to them?”

“Yes, I did.”

I answered nonchalantly, earning a short sigh and a voice that sounded like it was retreating.

“Ugh, this is driving me crazy… Fine. I’ll hang up for now.”

“Oh, wait a second.”

“What is it now?”

Thinking I might as well bring up one of the inconveniences of daily life since I couldn’t call her back myself, I decided to speak up.

The Annoying Policies for Those Under 14

No matter how hard I tried to wait until I was old enough, the inconvenience was unbearable. So, I decided to bring it up.

“Don’t we have something like legal guardianship? I’m going crazy with all these age restrictions every time I try to do something.”

“Huh? Oh, didn’t you guys get one?”

“What?”

A bizarre situation where the response to a question was yet another question.

The tone of mutual bewilderment was evident, as if both sides could almost feel the word question mark hanging in the air.

In this strange scenario where we were both asking each other what the problem was, the tone of the person on the other side of the phone softened a little.

“Uh… Hold on a second.”

Sensing that something wasn’t quite right, the minister let their words trail off and told me to wait for a moment.

Through the phone, I focused on the distant sounds of a conversation taking place on the other end.

“Hey, didn’t we assign legal guardians for Sun and Moon?”

“Well, last time, the Minister mentioned that one of them seemed too competent to need one, so we didn’t…”

“No, that was a joke! Argh, I’m losing my mind! Send it over quickly via text!”

From the faintly audible conversation, I could infer:

It must have been a simple oversight, caused by someone taking a joke too seriously.

This godforsaken country, honestly.

Author’s Note

Why communication between departments is so important.

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