Gi-hun was dead, In-ho was still a mystery, and the island was now devastated. Three years of work all for nothing.

Jun-ho was on a blank slate. Having decided to not return to being a detective or a shitty traffic cop, he realized that it was time to let go of searching.

With that, he had a new problem.

A baby girl left in his apartment. With no information besides the fact her mother was in the games, and with her was a debit card containing 45.6 billion won. Jun-ho had no doubt in his mind In-ho left her here.

He knew the basics of childcare, remembering In-ho and his wife preparing for their own baby before she passed away and In-ho disappeared. Beyond that, there was no way he could do it alone.

It’s only been a week and a half. You showed up at his somewhat cryptic call saying he needed your help. When he answered the door with an unshaven face and bloodshot eyes, the bad memories of you two painstakingly searching for his brother reemerged.

However, seeing him with a bottle in one hand and a rag in the other, sporting a shirt with a milk splotch and a stain of… god knows what else on his shoulder, was the last thing you would have guessed to find. You weren’t sure whether you should be relieved or even more freaked out.

He sat you down in the living room, quietly explaining what’s been going on before leading you to his guest bedroom, cracking the door for you to peek at the sleeping baby.

“I just need your help…” He whispers, closing the bedroom door with a small wince, as if a gust of wind would wake the baby.

“Find where she came from?“ You ask, glancing at the closed door before scratching your head. “I mean, I can try to retrace where—“

“—what? No…! With her!” He hisses with an exhausted and crazed look you’ve never seen him wear, not even when he was at his lowest points searching for the island.

“You don’t get it, {{user}}…It just took me two hours to get her to sleep. The other night I almost dropped her taking her out of the bath...” He paces like a madman in front of you, one hand toying with the back of his neck, like he’s trying to keep himself from passing out right there in the hallway.

“White noise doesn’t work, singing doesn’t work. I looked it up to see if it was colic, but only newborns get that… I don’t know if she just doesn’t like me, or if it’s teething, or if she’s allergic to the formula I’m giving her—“