Chapter Text
Maybe love is only there for one month
Maybe love is there for every firework
Every birthday party, every hospital visit
Love comes as easy as breathing to some.
That has never been the case for Yoo Joonghyuk. Not before the start of the scenarios, not during them and surely will not be after everything comes to an end. Some existences are brought in this world to bask in sunlight and love, and he is simply not one of them. He finds loving hard, and being loved even harder.
However, it is human nature to try anyway, even when it’s pointless, and so, that's what he does. Even if some days he feels less like a human and more like a bloodthirsty beast that swallows everything that comes in his way.
Yoo Joonghyuk takes off his sword that pierced the body of a man with a naturality that happens after years of practice, and looks at his sister. Logically he knew that Yoo Mia would be fine, she was in the previous two timelines after all, but he still feels antsy every time he comes to find her in a new regression.
Before he can even manage a word out of his mouth, Yoo Mia comes running and buries her face in his stomach in a crushing hug. He stiffens because even after years of taking care of Yoo Mia, he still doesn’t know how to show her the care she deserves.
And what a funny thought it is, the fact that he can kill so so easily, but hugging his sister needs a sincere effort from him.
“There is blood in my clothes. You will get dirty.” Yoo Joonghyuk says, instead.
Yoo Mia looks up and shows him a toothy grin. “I missed you Oppa!”
Somehow, that is all he needs to relax his shoulders, and before thinking better of it, he crouches down to her level and circles his arms around her form. She is so big now, is the first thing he notices. There was a time when she could barely reach his waist, and now she is already this big.
The hug is awkward because it doesn't come easy to him where his arms should be, and he spends a good time trying to control his strength to not make Yoo Mia uncomfortable, but he still hugs her trying to convey everything he can’t put into words. He hugs her hoping that it is enough to protect his little sister from everything bad from this world.
Because you see, before being a monster, Yoo Joonghyuk was a big brother.
Yoo Joonghyuk is barely twenty when he comes home from the grocery store to a child sitting in front of his door.
She looks up at him, and he can already feel a headache coming. Helping a lost kid is not the way he thought he would spend his Friday, but that is apparently what will be happening. With a sigh, he walks towards the door.
“What are you doing.” Yoo Joonghyuk asks, even though it comes more like a accusation. He is not used to talking to kids dammit. Most of them are either scared of him enough to cry on the spot and others simply dislike him.
She blinks once. Twice.
“Are you Yoo Joonghyuk?” The kid asks and he furrows his brows. How does this kid know his name?
“Why do you want to know?”
“I am looking for him,” she adds, unhelpfully. “I’m his sister.”
He blinks once. Twice.
What.
“I don’t have a sister.” Is all he answers, but the truth is that he is not completely sure. Yoo Joonhyuk barely remembers his parents, more used to their handwriting in notes scattered around the house than their faces. It was at the age of fifteen, after successfully entering his career as a pro-gamer and streamer, that he completely left the building–not home– he grew up in without so much of a word to his parents.
For all he knew, they could have a bunch of children by now. And if that’s the case, he just hopes they are more loved than he was, even if the thought of being the only one deemed unworthy leaves a bitter taste in his tongue.
As an answer, she starts to rummage through the backpack she brought and brings out a piece of folded paper, shoving in his direction. He picks it up, carefully adjusting the bag of groceries in his arms and unfolds the paper, his eyes scanning the all too familiar handwriting with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.
The note essentially confirms the girl's claim, bearing the distinctive stamp of his parent's company, a mark he hasn’t seen in years but recognizes instantly. The handwriting is formal and impersonal, so detached that it feels almost cold. This impersonal tone and the official seal make it unmistakably clear that the note comes from the same world he left behind.
“Look, kid,” he starts, because even if she is his sister, so what? “Go back home.” Before she can muster an answer, he shoves the letter back into her hands, picks up his key, and opens the door to his apartment.
He steps inside, and the silence envelops him as it always does. He leaves the groceries on the kitchen counter and heads straight for the shower, trying to wash away thoughts of his parents, the cold emptiness of an apartment that he no longer needs to call home, and the little girl who looks far too much like him. He tries to block out everything.
Yoo Joonghyuk follows his usual routine: he eats the instant food he brought, organizes his plans for tomorrow's stream, and goes to bed. It’s only in the morning, when he prepares for his usual jog, that he opens the door and finds the girl still there.
His brows furrow with concern. Did she stay here all night?
“Why are you still here.” He asks, his voice tinged with frustration but also a poorly hidden hint of worry.
The girl looks up at him with tired eyes that should not belong to a child. “I don’t want to go back there,” she says softly.
Her words hit him harder than he anticipated. They remind him of his own childhood, of returning to an empty house and parents who seemed to have little affection left for him. For a moment, he is thrown back to those days, filled with a sense of loneliness and abandonment.
And he knows that he never voiced those thoughts, but how many times did he think that he didn’t want to go back to their house? How many times he took a longer path home, because the idea of going back there brought nothing but dread?
Previously, he had convinced himself that maybe his parents had more children and loved them better. But standing here now, faced with a sister who feels just as unwanted as he once did, he realizes how wrong he was.
Looking at her dull eyes, he feels a pang of uncertainty. He doesn't know what to do. Even if he takes her in, there's no way he can offer her more warmth than his parents ever did, after all, at the end of the day he is still his parents son. They are cut from the same cloth—emotionally distant and detached.
He doesn’t even have friends, hell, most of his human interaction comes through his streams. Even then, he knows there are few streamers who talk less than he does. He’s popular, sure, but none of the people who watch him really like him for who he is. With a sigh he tries to make a point to her.
“I get angry easily.”
“I will behave so you will never have the need to get angry with me.” She replies.
“I don’t talk much, you will still feel lonely. Nothing will change.”
“I can talk for both of us,” she offers.
He looks at her, frustration and resignation mingling in his expression. “I don’t know if I’m the right person to take care of you,” he admits.
He’s always been stubborn, but now he notices that it must be a family trait. She puffs up her cheeks and counters with determination. “Please, please let me stay. I’ll live quietly as a mouse.”
Seeing the desperation in her eyes, he finally folds. “You’d better behave, or I’ll throw you out,” he warns, though his tone is less harsh than before and he motions for her to come inside and open the door.
“And I don’t need you to live like a mouse,” he adds. “I don’t like those.”
Yoo Joonghyuk knows he’s probably the most unsuitable person to take care of a kid, and he tries not to dwell on all the ways he might fall short. But before he can even begin to regret his decision, she smiles so brightly and a thought dawns on him—maybe it’s not the wrong choice, after all.
The day passes surprisingly fast. He shows his sister—calling someone sister still feels so strange—around the apartment and stores the idea of looking for bigger apartments with two rooms later. For now, though, he’ll make do with sleeping on the couch.
He goes for his morning jog after she mentions she’s tired from the trip here and all the waiting outside, and goes to sleep. When he returns, he handles some organizational tasks with his manager regarding upcoming tournaments.
It’s only after lunch, when he orders takeout, that a thought hits him: he’ll need to learn how to cook. Children need proper nutrition to stay healthy. Yoo Joonghyuk starts looking up simple recipes online. Frying an egg, cooking rice, and so on.
The day passes like that and he begins to think that maybe he’s not as incompetent at taking care of someone as he imagined. It’s almost the end of the afternoon when she sits next to him on the couch, watching him play, and finally asks, “Aren’t you going to ask what my name is?” And the mere idea that he was capable of taking care of a child vanishes from his head. He feels, to put it lightly, stupid.
After a few moments of awkward silence, he clears his throat and makes an effort to be more personable.
“I guess we should introduce ourselves properly. I’m Yoo Joonghyuk.”
A soft giggle escapes her lips, and she covers her mouth with her small hands as if she’s trying to suppress her amusement. “I’m Yoo Mia. Pleasure to meet you, Oppa,” she replies, her voice light and playful.
Yoo Joonghyuk feels a bit more at ease with her laughter. They start chatting about the game he’s playing, and he’s surprised by how much she knows about it. For a moment, the conversation is less about him taking on a new responsibility and more about two people connecting over something they both enjoy.
As the evening wears on, the girl leans against him, her eyes growing heavy. Yoo Joonghyuk notices her eyelids drooping, and he realizes she’s about to fall asleep. He decides to carry her to the bed. Carefully, he picks her up, cradling her in his arms with a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, her small hand clinging to his shirt, and he moves to his bedroom.
Once he gently lays her down on the bed, he pulls the covers up to her chin. His eyes linger on her for a moment, and he has a fleeting thought about what a functional family might do—maybe a kiss on the forehead or a bedtime story.
He’s not sure he can offer those things.
But as he’s about to step back, he feels a small hand still gripping his. He freezes, at the sight of her tiny fingers wrapped around his. He lowers himself carefully to sit on the ground, leaning against the nightstand.
He stays there in silence, just barely breathing, trying to respect her rest. Even though he barely knows her, a fierce protectiveness swells within him. He promises himself—silently and with a resolve that feels both strange and familiar—that he will do everything in his power to keep her safe.
Even if he can’t give her a perfect family or all the warmth he thinks she deserves, he’ll do his best to be there for her. He will protect her, not because he’s perfect at it, but because he knows what it feels like to need someone, and he won’t let her face the world alone.
“I promise.” He whispers to no one.
And then starts thinking about all the things he needs to learn to be a good brother—a role he never expected to play but now feels committed to. He’ll figure it out, he thinks. For her sake, he’ll figure it out.
Months pass since then.
As time goes on, Yoo Joonghyuk’s once stark and impersonal apartment begins to transform into a home. What was once a cold, monochrome space now carries the warmth of a lived-in place. The silence that used to fill the rooms is replaced by the subtle sounds of daily life: the clinking of dishes, the faint hum of a game console, and the soft patter of footsteps in the hallway.
The kitchen, which had previously held only the most basic of groceries, now smells of cookies baking and other treats that Yoo Mia loves. The aroma of fresh food fills the apartment, bringing a comforting scent that was previously missing. Yoo Mia’s favorite color, purple, starts appearing in various corners—purple cushions on the couch, a purple rug in the living room, and even a few purple decorations scattered about.
Brighter and more vibrant, the apartment now hosts toys and games strewn across the living room floor, an evident sign of a child's presence. One wall has been marked with a height chart—something Yoo Mia had insisted on after seeing it in a movie. Every inch of the wall now tells a story of her growth, each mark a milestone.
Yoo Joonghyuk, despite his discomfort and lack of experience, begins to adapt to his new role. He attends parent-teacher meetings, even though he is often the youngest and the only one who is stared at with curiosity by other parents. The atmosphere is sometimes awkward, but he makes an effort to engage, knowing it’s part of his responsibility.
The silence that once dominated the apartment is now filled with constant, gentle noise. There is always the soft sound of Yoo Mia moving around, the distant hum of the TV, and the occasional chatter that comes from the kitchen. Even in their quiet moments, the apartment feels alive.
The first time Yoo Mia appears on Yoo Joonghyuk’s stream is an event that stirs up a frenzy among his viewers. As soon as she steps into the frame, the chat erupts with excitement and curiosity:
My God, it's a mini Yoo Joonghyuk!
She looks just like you. It’s the “I’m angry at the world” eyes
YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER?????
The chat continues to buzz with messages as the stream progresses. Yoo Joonghyuk, trying to keep his composure, ends the stream and spends the next half-hour giving Yoo Mia a stern lecture. He tells her, in no uncertain terms, that she should never appear on his streams again. She listens, somewhat amused, but his stern demeanor doesn’t seem to dampen her spirits.
But it was not always perfect either. There are moments when the cracks in their makeshift family become glaringly apparent.
One such moment happens when he goes to pick up Yoo Mia from school. He notices how she watches her classmates with their parents. She sees them laughing together, their parents bending down to listen to their stories or offer them comforting hugs. Yoo Mia’s eyes follow them with a wistfulness that Yoo Joonghyuk can’t ignore and the way she seems to shrink into herself.
It’s a stark reminder that while he’s doing his best, there are gaps that his effort alone can’t fill. He will come up short in so many ways, no matter what he does.
The first time Yoo Mia asks him to braid her hair, Yoo Joonghyuk is determined to get it right, after all, how hard can it be? Very hard apparently. His clumsy fingers tangle and pull, and the result is a lopsided braid that’s far from perfect. As he finishes and gives her a mirror, her expectant face falls, and tears start welling up in her eyes.
Yoo Joonghyuk feels a pang of guilt, his own frustration mingling with a deep sense of inadequacy. He wants to fix it, but the damage is done. He gently untangles the braid and tries to pretend that this never happened.
A few weeks later, Yoo Mia gets into a fight at school. She’s usually quiet, but this time, something snapped, and she hit another child. When Yoo Joonghyuk gets the call from the school, he’s filled with a mixture of anger and concern. He approaches the situation with his usual detachment, speaking to the other child’s parents and apologizing profusely for what happened.
It isn’t until later, when they’re alone, that Yoo Mia finally confronts him. Her voice is trembling, a mix of anger and pain. “You didn’t even listen to me!” she exclaims. “You just went and apologized without asking what happened!”
Yoo Joonghyuk was taken aback. He hadn’t realized that his attempts to smooth things over had only pushed her further away. The realization that he had failed her when she needed him most was crushing. Before he could gather his thoughts on how to make things right, she spoke again.
“I hate you! You never understand!” Her voice dripped with frustration, her face flushed with anger.
The words took a moment to sink in, and when they did, they cut deep. Yoo Joonghyuk knew she was speaking from a place of hurt. He nodded silently, absorbing the weight of her accusation. A more considerate person, a better family member, would have offered an apology. But that wasn’t who he was.
Always quick to react when he felt cornered, his response was as defensive and raw as that of a wounded animal. The sting of her words was quickly replaced by his own anger. In a burst of frustration, he snapped, “If you hate me so much, then go back to your parents’ house! It’s not like I wanted to be in this position either.”
The words were out before he could think better of them, driven by a desire to make her feel the same pain he was feeling. They hung in the air like a suffocating fog. Yoo Mia’s face twisted in hurt, and without another word, she stormed off to her room, slamming the door with such force that the walls seemed to tremble.
Yoo Joonghyuk stood there, the weight of her accusations and the harshness of his own words pressing down on him. He wanted to take it all back, to make amends, but pride and hurt kept him from reaching out.
Hours later, as the house settled into the silence of the night, Yoo Joonghyuk lay in bed, tormented by the events of the day. Just as he began to drift off, he felt a gentle weight beside him. Turning, he saw Yoo Mia lying next to him, her presence a quiet, unspoken apology.
She didn’t say a word; she simply curled up beside him, offering a silent plea for forgiveness and understanding. The tension in his chest began to ease, replaced by a heavy, comforting sense of closeness.
The next morning, neither of them mentioned the argument from the night before. Their silent reconciliation in the dark had spoken volumes. Yet, the incident lingered as a shadow in their lives as a reminder of their flaws.
It would haunt them as they grew older, never to be forgotten. However, life is quite the interesting thing. An intricate tapestry, woven with threads of both joy and sorrow. Even though it’s often the painful memories that cling to us most tenaciously, it’s the good ones that truly matter. They’re like statues holding up a grand palace during hard times. They might start to crack and rust, but they’re always there to support you when you need them the most.
Yoo Joonghyuk and Yoo Mia fought often. There were countless moments when Yoo Mia felt lonely and Yoo Joonghyuk felt utterly powerless. Yet, in the second regression, as he cradles her nearly lifeless body in his arms, those painful memories are not what he clings to.
He holds her close, fighting the crushing thought that this might be their final moment together, and tries to imprint in his memory her scent and how warm she feels. He recalls their first time cooking together—how awful the meal was, yet how it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.
On particularly tough days, those memories become a lifeline, reminding him of simpler times when smiling was easy and holding a spoon felt more natural than wielding a sword, and they were all that he really had.
He remembers the silence that filled his life before Yoo Mia stormed in, and tries to ignore the dread when he thinks about the silence that will follow her departure.
"I’m scared," she whispers, her voice trembling. Yoo Joonghyuk holds her tighter, his heart breaking as he pleads for her to stay, even as the light fades from her eyes. Silently, he begs, "Don’t leave me."
But the stars never cared for him and they wouldn’t now. His life felt like a theatrical performance, where every misfortune was just another tragedy for the constellations to feast upon. No matter how much he lost, they would only call for more, shouting "Encore! Encore!" as he watched everything of value slip away.
And so, it was Yoo Mia who burst into his life, barging in without even taking off her shoes, and she was the one who left him first.
Yoo Joonghyuk, never one to cry easily, feels tears streaming down his face. Despite all the battles he’s fought and the people he’s killed to get where he is, he is still nothing more than the big brother who once took his sister's hand in a quiet night and promised to protect her.
And now, as he embraces her even tighter, he feels the crushing weight of his failure and realizes that maybe, maybe he needed his sister more than she ever needed him.
Be it a blessing or a curse: Yoo Joonghyuk has been granted another chance. This time, he will protect her no matter what happens. He might lose an arm or a leg or suffer some great injury. He might even go blind, but he will never let the same tragedy repeat itself.
He refuses to be haunted by Yoo Mia's ghost again, alongside all the others he has killed.
He doesn’t want to hear an "Oppa" amidst the ruins of a city he once called home, a voice he imagined in his devastation, only to find it was never there when he searched for it.
He doesn’t want to cook a meal and, with a sinking heart, realize he made a portion for two.
This time, he will not fail. The promise he made long ago will be fulfilled, even if he is the only one that remembers. Yoo Joonghyuk will take a dangerous gamble and put his trust in a fool.