A Mistake of Lifetime

Finally, as the sun began to set, the boys decided it was time to head home. But it wasn’t their wounds or exhaustion that pushed them off the tree—it was the fear of the old granny ghost in the mountains. Had it not been for the creeping darkness and the stories of wandering spirits, they might have stayed there all night, waiting for their swollen faces to heal and their pride to recover.

North’s steps were heavy and short. The journey home felt longer than usual, but the weight of what awaited him made it even worse. By the time he reached the small wooden house, his heart sank. Fern was already at the door.

She stood there, bathed in the dim glow of the lantern light, her arms crossed, and in her right hand—a thin stick meant for punishment.

North sucked in a cold breath. His mother’s face was red with anger, her eyes staring straight through the darkness. She had been waiting. He was late. He had not come home at time, and his mother’s patience had run out.

But then, as he stepped closer, her expression changed. Her sharp gaze landed on his swollen face, taking in the bruises on his cheeks, the cut on his lip, the mud and torn fabric of his clothes. The moment he reached her, everything crashed down on him. Tears welled up without warning.

His chest shook with the force of his sobs, and in the next instant, he buried his face in his mother’s skirt, gripping the fabric tightly as if it was the only thing holding him together. The thin stick slipped from Fern’s fingers, forgotten. She stared down at him, completely caught off guard.

Her sweetheart, the same boy who always spoke about being brave, the same boy who boasted about scaring away thieves and vicious demons with his poems—Was now sobbing in her arms.

Her heart tightened. Something must have happened.

Slowly, she crouched to his level, brushing his disheveled hair back, her touch gentle despite the earlier anger.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice softer now.

North sniffled, but didn’t answer. Fern tilted his face toward hers, looking straight into his swollen, tear-filled eyes. "Who made my baby cry?"

But North only cried harder. How could he tell her? How could he say he had been beaten by the village chief’s grandson? If he did, it might create an even bigger problem.

Instead of pressing further, Fern sighed and stood up."Come on," she murmured, leading him inside.

She took him to the bathroom, helping him out of his dirty, torn clothes before guiding him into the warm bathwater. The heat soothed his aching body, and for a moment, he let himself relax, sinking into the warmth.

By the time he finished bathing, the house smelled sweet.

In the small kitchen, Fern had already prepared his favorite food. When he sat down, she placed a steaming bowl before him, the scent of warm milk and honey drifting into the air.

As he picked up his spoon, she sat across from him, watching carefully. "You fought with someone?" she asked, her voice careful but firm.

North hesitated, but then nodded slowly. "Got beaten up?" she pressed further.

Tears threatened to spill again, but before he could let them fall, Fern picked up a spoon and gently put food into his mouth.

He chewed, swallowing his emotions along with the sweet dish. She watched him closely, but didn’t ask again. If he wouldn’t tell her, then she would have to find out herself. For now, she let him enjoy the warmth of home, the comfort of a good meal, and the safety of knowing that no matter what happened outside—She would always be here.

…

The next day, after their unusual feast in the morning, North and Heo set off toward the mountains. They weren’t going too deep, nor were they aiming for anything big—just small rabbits or whatever little animals they could catch.

As North had so proudly proclaimed, "To become a man."

Though, what exactly he meant by that, only he and his books knew.

"Heo," North called out as they trekked through the uneven trail, dodging thick roots and overgrown bushes. "You brought everything, right?"

Heo, always prepared in his own way, shuffled through his small cloth bag, his round face scrunching in concentration. "A rope, a knife, food, meat, and water. I think I have it all."

"I'll roast you a good meat today, Heo." North grinned, satisfied. They were finally doing something. It was small, just a simple hunt, but it was still their first. And wasn’t the first catch the most exciting part? Besides, North had read enough books written by renowned scholars by the age of ten to claim he had a surface-level knowledge of many subjects. Though, if he was being honest, he had never paid much attention to survival books—his favorites were always poetry and literature. Still, he read everything, always tucking knowledge away for the future.

The sky stretched clear and bright, not a single cloud in sight. A pleasant wind blew from the east to the west, carrying the scent of damp earth and wildflowers.

After some searching, they found the perfect spot in a nearby wooded area. The patch of land was overgrown with weeds and wildflowers, a good sign that small creatures might be scurrying around. More importantly, it was close enough to the village that there was no danger of running into bigger predators or accidentally stumbling into a beast’s territory.

North took a deep breath, his chest swelling with excitement.

They dropped their bags, marking their small makeshift base before North surveyed their surroundings. Satisfied, he set his bag down on a small patch of grass, then glanced at Heo.

"Let’s quickly set up a trap."

Heo nodded immediately. The deeper parts of the forest didn’t interest him one bit—not when the stories of beasts lurking in the shadows still lingered in his mind. So, they got to work. For over an hour, the boys struggled, dug, and sweated, their small hands clawing into the earth as they created a deep pit. By the time it was done, their fingernails were caked with dirt, and their arms ached.

They covered the hole with fresh grass, making sure it blended in seamlessly with the forest floor.

Then, as bait, they placed fresh fruits—ones they had sneaked out from the clan’s manor—right in the center of the disguised trap. But North wasn’t done yet. With a grin full of mischief, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small, fresh piece of meat.

Heo’s eyes widened. "Where did you get that?"

"Stole it from the kitchen," North admitted shamelessly. "One of the chefs wasn’t looking."

Heo gasped. Not because North had stolen—they had done that before—but because North had taken meat. Precious meat.

"Why would you waste that?!" he whispered furiously.

But North simply placed it right over the grass, looking proud of himself.

"Think about it," he explained confidently. "We eat this meat and grow stronger, right? So why wouldn’t animals like it too? They’ll be drawn in for sure."

Heo still didn’t agree, but he had already dug a hole for an hour, so at this point, he wasn’t about to argue.

With their trap set, they hurried behind a nearby tree, pressing themselves against the rough bark. Then, they waited.

"Do you think we’ll catch something?" Heo finally asked. His tone wasn’t very optimistic.

If anything, he felt like they had wasted perfectly good fruit when they could have eaten it themselves. But he had already agreed, so he kept quiet, his eyes fixed on the trap just like North’s.

The pleasant wind continued to blow between the tall trees, the leaves whispering in the gentle breeze.

The boys, full from their heavy morning meal, sat quietly, watching, and without realizing it…

They fell asleep.

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…

Time passed, and when North’s eyes fluttered open, he noticed that the sun had drifted behind a large patch of clouds, casting a long shadow over the verdant mountain across the valley. He groggily smacked his head with his small hands, annoyed that he had fallen asleep on their first hunt. But just as he was about to sit up, his ears caught a sound.

Something rustling. His gaze snapped toward the trap—and there it was. A rabbit. And not just any rabbit—a big, plump, snow-white rabbit, sitting right on top of their trap, nibbling on the fruit… and the stolen piece of meat. North was speechless.

What was wrong with the trap?

Why didn’t it work?! The rabbit sat there, completely unbothered, enjoying its feast as if their elaborate setup was nothing more than a picnic mat. Panic surged through North. He quickly shook Heo awake, the other boy groaning in irritation. Before Heo could let out a loud yawn, North slapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide with urgency.

“Shhh! Don’t make a sound—”

But it was too late. The rabbit’s ears twitched. Its round, beady eyes met theirs. For a single second, they stared at each other. Then—With impossible speed, the rabbit darted off into the underbrush.

"Fatty, let's go!" North yelled, grabbing his backpack and bolting after it.

"It ate our precious meat!"

Heo let out a frustrated groan but scrambled to his feet, quickly chasing after North. However—chasing was easier said than done. Two years ago, North could run like a rabbit himself, but now? After all those endless feasts, the meat-heavy meals, and the countless naps after eating… They had gotten fat. And fat boys were not fast. Their legs pounded against the ground, but each step felt like dragging a cartload of bricks.

They huffed. They wheezed.

Their arms flopped uselessly, their bellies jiggled with each step. Soon enough, their breath gave out. They both staggered to a stop, hands grabbing their knees, struggling to suck in air. Never in his life had North felt so disappointed in himself. Two years ago, he could run without effort. Now? He could barely last a minute.

He straightened up, frustration boiling in his chest, and turned to glare at Heo. "You made it run!"

Heo's mouth dropped open. "What did I do?!"

"You took a loud yawn while waking up," North accused, his hands on his hips. "That’s when it escaped!"

Heo looked wounded, his round face full of betrayal. He opened his mouth to argue, but after a moment of thought, he realized…He had no defense. With no way to prove his innocence, he could only swallow his frustration silently.

Meanwhile, North scanned the ground, searching for tracks—small disturbances in the soil, bent blades of grass, anything that hinted at where the rabbit had disappeared. He had seen it leap toward a nearby burrow, disappearing somewhere into the tangle of undergrowth. Maybe they could lure it out again. Determined, he got to work, digging another trap beneath the canopies of the tall trees, their dense leaves casting cool shadows over the ground.

This time, he made sure to keep the trap thinner than before, adjusting for what he had learned from their failed attempt. Heo, still a little wary after being blamed, simply watched North work, offering help only when asked. He wasn’t about to get scolded again. After some time, North wiped his forehead, then reached into his pocket—pulling out yet another small piece of meat.

Heo’s eyes widened in disbelief.

"You have more?!" he exclaimed.

"This is the last one," North muttered, carefully placing it over the fresh grass patch.

With the trap set, they hurried behind the thick trunk of a tree, crouching low, their breathing shallow and controlled. This time, North kept his eyes wide open. No drowsiness. No mistakes. He also held his knife tightly, recalling the many times he had watched his father skin rabbits and chickens. If they caught it, he was confident he could mirror at least some of his father’s technique.

Minutes passed.

The forest was calm, only the soft whistle of wind through the trees filling the air.

Then. A rustling. Not from the wind—but from something moving through the undergrowth. North held his breath. Heo gripped his knees tightly. A pair of small feet hopped into view—the white rabbit. Its movements were delicate, but quick, its big, dark eyes darting around, scanning for danger. For a moment, it stood still, ears twitching.

Then, seemingly satisfied, it hopped forward. Right over the trap. North’s careful adjustments paid off. The thin grass layer gave way instantly, and the rabbit fell inside.

North and Heo reacted immediately. They sprang forward, surrounding the hole in seconds, their knives drawn, eyes sharp with determination. Their feet planted firmly, their bellies tight as they held their breath, waiting. This time, they wouldn’t let it escape.

The rabbit had no chance of escaping easily now.

North dove in, arms outstretched to capture it. But the moment his fingers brushed its fur, something impossible happened. The rabbit jumped—but it didn’t just jump. It passed right through his body. Through his stomach.

For a fleeting second, North felt something cold and sharp rip through him. His eyes widened in shock, and before he could even process what had happened, his body collapsed onto the ground.

A soul-crushing pain twisted through his stomach and mind, like something deep inside him had been torn away. Through his fading vision, he saw the rabbit with something glowing in his mouth, dart into the bushes, disappearing in an instant.

"What?! What happened?!"

Heo’s panicked voice rang in his ears, but North couldn’t respond. His lungs burned, his chest tightened—he was struggling just to breathe.

"Did it bite you?!" Heo frantically checked him over, eyes darting over his arms, his legs, looking for any wounds.

But there was nothing. No blood. No bite. Yet North’s face was twisted in agony, his body shaking, his fingers clawing at his stomach as if something was missing. For the first time, Heo felt real fear. This wasn’t a normal injury. Something was wrong. But he didn’t know what.

For all his laziness, Heo wasn’t weak. His small but sturdy body was actually filled with surprising strength. Without wasting a second, he hoisted North onto his back, gripping him tightly. Then, with every ounce of energy he had, he ran. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, the weight of his friend heavy on his back, but the fear pushing him forward even faster.

"Hold on, North!" he panted, arms tightening around him.

His feet pounded against the dirt path, his breath ragged, his heart racing. He didn’t stop. Not when his legs burned. Not when his lungs screamed for air. Not until he reached the clan’s headquarters. All the while, silently cursing that damned rabbit.

…

…

…

"You’re sure it was a rabbit?"

The elder stood over North’s unconscious body, his expression unreadable as he watched the boy sprawled on the bed, his breathing slow and steady from the medication.

Heo nodded frantically, his hands clenched into fists. "Yes, Elder! It was a white rabbit! We both saw it with our own eyes!"

The elder hummed thoughtfully, stroking his long white beard, his mind clearly working through something. "And what were you two doing in the woods?"

Heo’s stomach twisted at the sharp tone. The elder’s piercing gaze made him feel small, but he gulped and answered truthfully. "We were just trying to catch a rabbit for dinner."

The elder’s brows furrowed. "Catch a rabbit?" he repeated, his voice carrying a strange weight.

"Y-Yes," Heo stuttered, his throat dry.

The elder stared at him for a long moment, then waved his hand. "Go outside."

Heo didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted for the door, his heart hammering in his chest, leaving behind the heavy atmosphere of the room.

Inside, North’s parents hovered over their son, his mother sobbing softly, while his father sat still, his jaw clenched tightly.

The boy lay there, his face pale, his body completely still, wrapped in layers of blankets.

The elder let out a slow breath, his brows furrowing even deeper. "That rabbit was no ordinary creature."

His voice held a grave seriousness, making both parents tense. "It must have been a Moon Rabbit. They feast on ghosts and illusory things."

North's father’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing at the elder. "Are you sure, Elder Mel?"

His voice was firm, controlled—but there was a sharp edge of disbelief.

"Moon Rabbits only appear on full moon nights," he reasoned, his hands balling into fists. "How could one be anywhere near the mountains? We have multiple Rank 2 Dungeon Masters patrolling the area day and night. This shouldn’t be possible."

The elder’s wrinkled face remained solemn. "I know," he admitted, "and yet, here we are."

Silence filled the room.

Elder Mel exhaled through his nose, his expression grim. "I can only assume it was left behind by someone from the three neighboring clans."

North’s father stiffened. A foreign Dungeon Master had left behind a Moon Rabbit? Why? And worse—what did it mean for their clan?

"My child..." Fern didn’t let go of North’s small, limp hand, her grip tight as she gazed at the elder, her voice barely above a whisper. "Will he be okay?"

Elder Mel sighed, his expression grim, his usual wisdom weighed down by uncertainty. "He’ll be fine... if he successfully wakes up."

Fern’s breath hitched. "But his future..." the elder continued, his tone darkening, "might not be bright anymore. His Dungeon Boundary has been ripped, and forming a new one..."

He didn’t finish. Because there was no need. Everyone in the room knew what that meant.

Instead, he simply shook his head and turned toward the door, his mood clearly ruined. "I’ll take my leave." And just like that, he was gone.

Fern looked at her husband, her eyes wet but determined. "Why don’t you call another doctor?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"Maybe someone else has better medicine—maybe they know something Elder Mel doesn’t." But her husband only shook his head.

Disappointment lingered in his gaze. He didn’t answer immediately, but his thoughts were dark and heavy. What would become of his son now?

Perhaps... he would have to try for another child. It was common in the village—many had four or five children, all to ensure at least one became a Dungeon Master. But he and Fern had been lucky. Both of them were Rank 2 Dungeon Masters, and by some stroke of fortune, they had a son who had successfully awakened Hope and had the chance to become one too.

Now?

That chance had been stolen. A Moon Rabbit had taken his Dungeon Boundary before it had even matured. There was no saying what would happen to North now. And worst of all—there had never been a case of someone recovering from this. When a Moon Rabbit stole someone’s boundary, it was as if they had been erased from fate.

But what troubled him most… Moon Rabbits were rare. Rarer than a Rank 5 Dungeon Master. And yet, somehow, one had appeared in their mountains. Why? Where did it come from?

He took a deep breath, rubbing Fern’s head gently, then running his fingers through North’s soft hair.

"He’ll be fine," he murmured, though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it for her sake or his own.

Then, with a heavy heart, he stepped toward the door. Leaving his voice echo through four closed walls.

"I’ll ask the other elders and chief if any of them know of a solution."