Han Yujin’s head fell with a soft thud against Han Yuhyun’s chest—the one who had just called himself the imposter. As Han Yujin’s body slid down, blood-soaked arms and hands caught him and cradled him, holding him gently, as though he were the most precious thing. His lifeless arms and legs hung limply; the floor was stained with his blood.

Though the wounds on Yuhyun’s hands were shallow, a searing pain—like a red-hot spike driven through flesh—ransacked him, and he gasped for air. Only two breaths echoed in his ears: the steady, quiet inhalations of the living, and the ragged, faltering gasp of the dying.

Yuhyun blinked slowly. His brother was dead—he had taken a fatal wound and immediately expired. His acute senses, every nerve in his body, communicated that fact with brutal clarity. Yet even so, Yuhyun could not accept it.

“…You… are…”

The being who had killed his brother was the same as himself. Revulsion churned through him at the sight of that identical form. Worse still, those tender hands, that gaze of sole affection—they belonged to him: Yuhyun, incapable of harming his brother.

Han Yuhyun would never kill Han Yujin. There was no way Yuhyun could have survived doing so.

“…Give him back.”

So Han Yujin was alive—he could still live. Yuhyun drew the sword that had impaled his own leg. He let his fire attribute resistance briefly drop around the wound, then cauterized it with flame. All in an instant. And almost simultaneously, he sprang away from the mirror-image of ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) himself.

His eyes darkened still further as he stared at the younger version of himself. Clutching his deceased brother to his chest, Yuhyun spun his long leg in a kick toward Yuhyun’s incoming assault. It seemed a light blow—Yujin’s inert body barely trembled. Yet when the foot connected:

Wham!

Yuhyun’s body, unable to dodge, was driven into the floor and skidded across it. Before he could even rise, the attacker was upon him, sword in hand, impaling Yuhyun’s healthy leg and lifting him off the ground; then with brutal force, he smashed Yuhyun’s shoulder with his foot. The floor creaked and cracked; splinters of wood leapt up and were consumed in the rising flames, turning to ash.

The difference in physical power was staggering. No S-rank hunter—none Yuhyun knew, not even those born S-rank—could compare to this Yuhyun. Even summoning Irin’s power hadn’t helped.

“…Irin?”

The fire spirit fluttered about in panic, unsure what to do. Meanwhile, Yuhyun’s body was kicked again—unprotected, he flew into the far wall of the great room. Cracks spread across the stone; the entire house shuddered, though Riette’s villa was specially reinforced.

“Irin.”

At the hushed summons, Irin circled the fallen Yuhyun. Yuhyun coughed up blood and struggled to lift his torso. The cold voice continued:

“As a fire spirit, I am the more fitting contractor, of course.”

“W-What…”

“Stronger, purer flame.”

Those half-closed eyes looked upon his double with chilling disinterest. Not a trace of anger at the threat to his uniqueness—no retched hatred.

“You are unraveled.”

Hesitating, Irin drifted toward its original master—but could not fully choose a side, and slipped into slumber against his skin. Yuhyun spat blood again. A trace of poison ran through it. Paralysis crept through his body as his fingers scraped the floor.

“Return my brother.”

“You were so blinded you didn’t even notice your brother dying.”

Yuhyun’s onyx-tinged eyes widened.

“To be distracted by anything but him.”

“…No.”

That had never happened, and never would.

“No one else matters, even if everyone else vanished. The only person I care about—has always been just one person.”

Yuhyun’s world was defined by Han Yujin. To hold any feeling for another person was born of Yujin. Yet how could one fully cherish someone else? His capacity for emotion itself existed solely because of Han Yujin.

“You, too… you must have known that!”

Flames ignited—but the dark blue fire was overwhelmed by the jet-black flame born of Yuhyun’s own blood. Poison is weak before flame; yet flame-born poison seeped relentlessly into Yuhyun’s body. He coughed out darker blood.

“There is only… my brother……”

“Han Yuhyun.”

Footsteps approached and halted before him.

“You, who longed for your brother’s love.”

Yuhyun’s clenched hand came to stillness. His black eyes scanned the room. The sofa lay splintered—yet the table stood intact, along with the food and the Christmas cake upon it.

“We should have completely let him go.”

A voice arid as dried earth.

“But you could not. Even now, you push yourself forward. You dared to present him before other hunters.”

“…I…”

“Because you wanted to stay by his side. Because he wanted you there. And.”

Thud. Yuhyun’s nearly propped-up torso was kicked again, and he collapsed without resistance.

“Because you feared he might hate you. Because you craved his love.”

“……”

Yuhyun ground his teeth. A childhood memory of chaos surfaced. He could not relinquish his brother’s side; he wept and clung, unable to curb his desire.

“In accepting your brother, you changed. In leaving him, you abandoned yourself.”

To forsake one’s own world means precisely that.

“And yet you hold him tight. For your own sake. As you said, nothing else matters—only you. In the end, you embraced the self you’d cast aside, and put yourself before him.”

“…No!”

That had never happened. Impossible. Yuhyun tried to rise—but his paralyzed leg would not move.

“I always, my brother…”

“Then you should have hidden him by force. Protected him by any means. Before his body was whittled away, before he could not even survive a month.”

“…!!”

A month. Yuhyun’s breath stilled. When he exhaled at last, a sob escaped. Memories of the hours since Yujin’s return rushed through his mind: after receiving his brother’s embrace, an inexplicable joy had thrummed through him. Back then, he’d tried to hide him.

His brother had not been weak. He had grown stronger than Yuhyun in moments—always returning to his side, always understanding him and welcoming him tenderly. Yuhyun’s world, once as small and cramped as a tiny fishbowl, had felt as vast as a sea.

It had been so—yet still.

“…I was wrong.”

At last.

“I was wrong……”

Tears streamed and mingled with blood. Unsure what to do, Yuhyun crawled across the floor. He could only pray to have his brother returned. Or could he even deserve it? Time collapsed upon him; his entire body felt heavy, his heart twisted in agony.

“Shut up and listen.”

The voice fell like ice. Yuhyun forced his head up, his vision blurred.

“There were three lives tied to the system connected to your brother. Not this world’s system but a remnant of the past—and the moment your brother died, it linked to that moment in the system. Your body reverted accordingly.”

The Japanese dungeon. Yuhyun’s wet eyes trembled.

“Your mana mark and mana-stone remain—but all damage since then is undone. Not merely healed, but erased.”

“…So.”

“But there is no second time.”

Yuhyun’s arms tightened around his brother’s body.

“The three lives have been consumed; I cannot do this again. It was possible only in that moment.”

That fleeting instant when he could draw the Yuhyun outside the system fully into this world. The day he was recognized as born again, blessed for his rebirth, at twenty-five—when no other sentient beings existed here.

As a being of both future and past, he had briefly rewound the system’s time to protect Han Yujin. But now the system had recognized and accepted him. No further distortions could be wrought.

“So act properly.”

So you never lose him again.

“You will not recall these events.”

Gently, Yuhyun laid Han Yujin’s body upon the lone intact sofa. Though his face was turned away, Yuhyun could vividly imagine the expression—affection undimmed, longing, sorrow—painted upon his features.

“It is better you do not remember.”

He stepped back from Yujin.

“I wish I had done so from the start.”

Yet, despite his harsh words, Yuhyun could not fully let go.

“Even now, cast aside your selfishness.”

Without looking back, he vanished—only to hear a faint, steady breath.

“…Brother!”

Dragging his immobile leg, Yuhyun moved toward Han Yujin. At last he felt warmth accompany the breathing. Swallowing his sobs, he embraced his brother once more. His heart pounded with wild relief, pain giving way as poison resistance took hold and his limbs regained feeling.

“…ugh.”

An overwhelming tide of relief, searing joy—as if a waterfall of emotion surged through him. Not only joy, but regret, anger, despair, sorrow—every feeling intertwined in a tumult tearing through his body.

Yuhyun’s eyes took in his unconscious brother’s face. So full of happiness and yet pain.

“…Brother.”

Sensations he could never have known without Han Yujin. Had he never realized his brother’s love, he would not have known such agony. The moment he sensed his brother’s touch, he also felt the cold beyond.

The coldest warmth in the world.

Had he remained submerged in the abyss of numbness, all would have been quiet. But now there was no turning back. Even if the strangest air tore at his lungs, even if biting wind cut him, even if splintered debris gouged his skin—his only choice would be to clamber up a sunlit hill, press his face into soft grass, and exhale his final breath.

“…I, Brother.”

He did not know what to do—but one thing was clear: he could never abandon himself again. He would find him once more, embrace him again, accept everything. Even if crawling in regret was his fate again, he could never let him go.

Trembling with anguish, Yuhyun rose. He burned away the bloodstains, changed Yujin into fresh clothes. Yujin’s wounds were wholly gone. He carried him upstairs to the bedroom, laid him on the bed, then drew a potion and tended to his own injuries.

Then he stood, gazing at Han Yujin for a long while. Finally, he gently lay down beside him. Tears flowed unceasingly, as though his tear ducts were broken.

“…Yuhyun?”

In the hush of his silent weeping, a faint voice came. Yuhyun bolted upright; groggy, Han Yujin lifted his heavy lids to look at him. Though still disoriented, concern flickered across his face at the sight of his weeping brother.

“…I’m okay.”

What had happened? Han Yujin struggled to piece memories together—had he collapsed before eating his birthday cake?

“You’re okay.”

“…No. I’m not okay.”

“You will be. Rest now.”

He held out an arm. Yuhyun lay back at his side as Han Yujin patted him.

“…I’m sorry, hyung.”

“For what? No need to be sorry.”

Yujin’s eyes fluttered closed and opened once more. A soft smile curved his lips.

“I… I like you, Yuhyun.”

“…Huh?”

“Yes. I like you. That means—even if you’re different, that’s fine.”

He blinked again.

“If you’re the only one who says they like me, it’s enough. Others may find it strange… but if that’s who you are, your honest self, that’s enough. I love my brother as he is. But—”

Yet. He furrowed his brow.

“Just one thing: I hope you like yourself. More than you like me. Or at least as much as you like me.”

“…I, hyung…”

“So lately, you seemed happy. You showed your desire to me again today… well, it wasn’t desire, exactly…”

His hand caressed Yuhyun’s hair. His eyes barely open; his voice whispered.

“If you truly want something, it’s okay to be selfish. You don’t always have to be the good brother.”

Irin’s laughter echoed faintly.

“Santa doesn’t give gifts to bad children— but I will. Always, forever.”

“…I can receive your gifts then.”

“Yes. Be stubborn if you want. It’s okay to be naughty sometimes. You’ve been such a good brother… so far.”

Han Yujin’s eyes closed for good; at his brother’s touch, Yuhyun closed his eyes too. He could not give him up—even if he blamed himself, not this time.

Yuhyun opened his eyes. He stood in a vast garden, and he raised his sword to his throat—hesitating only a moment.

[Not yet.]

A swarm of butterflies spiraled around the blade, and it melted away. One butterfly hovered, fluttering gently around Yuhyun.

[You were able to extend Han Yujin’s life as you wished. Now you must grant my wish.]

Yuhyun looked silently at the butterfly.

“I… will soon disappear anyway.”

[You needn’t wait long. As the White Bird said, soon you will emerge. For now, just sleep a little longer.]

Yuhyun’s eyes closed, and he crumpled softly onto the grass. The butterflies danced and drifted away.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep