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The memories didn’t return, not until the day he held the cooling corpse of his brother (his baby brother, the child he had basically raised since infancy, his precious little brother - ) amid the ruins of earth and fire.
After Final Gratitude allowed him to witness Yoohyun’s memories, came another set, a tidal wave of stories of another lifetime,
Memories of being sickly and different but loved.
Of being young and being forced to fight in battles made for men stronger than him.
Of gritting his teeth through the blood and screams, the corpses and nightmares, through self-hate and alcohol, clawing his ways to survival.
Only to never escape out of being a pawn on the chessboard.
The sensation in his hands changed, and he could not tell who he was looking.
Today is my brother’s death day. I have a dead brother.
“C-Cruel-hyung,” the name came out strange, foreign in his tone despite the utter love and grief settling in his heart. His fingers carded through curly hair and something in him collapsed. “Yoohyun-ah.”
Han Yoojin laughed and laughed and laughed. Was this his fate? Destined to lose his brother, be it his hyung or dongsaeng, always? It didn’t matter whether he was Deon Hart or Han Yoojin, not when the person who loved him the most was gone.
Why couldn’t he resolve their misunderstanding? Why wasn’t he strong enough to protect them? Why couldn’t he say the words he should have said when he had the chance? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy-
Kill.
The thought returned with a vengeance. His fingers trembled.
He still had Yoohyun’s skillset.
A ding interrupted his murderous intention.
“Congratulations! For slaying the Rachitas, you have achieved the Wishing Stone!”
He woke up to a hospital room.
Just as he was wondering the best method to escape, the door opened and his mind blanked.
“Hyung, you’re awake!”
His baby brother, younger than the one he had lost, was there by his bedside in an instant. His face was scowling but his dark eyes were full of worries.
“Yoohyun-ah,” the words coming out easily. “I love you.”
He didn’t allow the beffudled Yoohyun a chance to continue.
“I know I have caused a lot of problems for you, but this time I won’t bother you anymore. I will stop going to Dungeon too and be an honest worker from now on.”
“Hyung,” said Yoohyun slowly and gently, as if Yoojin was a spooked cat that would dash if frightened, “I love you too and while I’m very happy, I’m not here to talk about that.”
“Huh?”
He shifted to move but fatigue swarm him. A pair of strong hands made sure he didn’t fall.
Something wasn’t right.
“Is there something wrong with me?” asked Yoojin.
Besides the dizziness, he felt physically fine. His leg was definitely alright. But the concerns rolling in waves from Yoohyun made him second-guess himself. Did he sustain some sort of injuries before he got here?
“Hyung, did you remember what happened?”
Yoojin shook his head.
Yoohyun turned to grab something from the drawer and handed it to him.
It was a hand mirror.
Looking down on his reflection Yoojin immediately understood why his brother had questioned him.
The face in the glass was his, slightly younger and healthier but it was no doubt Han Yoojin, another proof of him turning the hourglass. However, his dark hair was now as white as snow and his dark brown eyes bore the color of spilled blood.
The mirror cracked.