Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Han Yoojin was a strong kid, a great brother but, he was still just a human.

Humans can crumble; they can break and piece themselves together with the help of people around them—their loved ones, their family. For Han Yoojin, it was his beloved dongsaeng.

They weren't exactly in a stable situation. Their parents had just died and they're left alone to fend for themselves. Yoojin, had to. Like the good brother he is, he would not let his dongsaeng suffer from their unfortunate predicament.

School was okay; he liked his English subject because he was good at it, as others say. School was okay, but he didn't want to quit. He didn't want to drop out, but what else could he do? They would starve–his brother would starve, and he didn't want that.

It was the first crack of his shell.

Working three jobs was tiring, to say the least. He would wake up before dawn to start his day, and leave food for his brother before he leaves for work. 'I hope he eats well' Han Yoojin thought.

At night, when he comes home from work, his brother would come rushing towards him. He's either holding food or showing off his achievements at school that day.

"HYUNG, LOOK! I got a perfect score on my math test today" his brother would say with wide expectant eyes.

"Woah! great job! I'm so proud of you yoohyunie" he says with the brightest smile on his face and his brother would light up like the sun.

Times like this would immediately lift his spirits up, because to him, it made everything worth it. His brother, his dongsaeng was so smart so talented.

It made him the proudest brother in the world.

Time flew by and it has already been a year since their parents left the world.

It was a relatively normal day, he thinks go himself. He was on his job at a local convenience store, working as a cashier. But for a while now, something had been churning inside him, as though there were a void in his stomach, waiting to devour the rest of his body.

He didn't like that.

It was a never ending cycle of work, home, work, home. He thinks that if his brother wasn't here he would've gone to the crazy already.

His brother, his light, his life.

As his shift continued, his eyes darted around the establishment, waiting for customers or restocking the shelves. After walking down the aisles, he set his eyes on something.

Cigarettes.

He got curious.

They say it relieves stress, right?

Would the pungent, acrid, and bitter aroma of the cigarette smoke fill the void in his body? He hoped so.

He got into cigarettes, unfortunately.

'Fuck, what if yoohyun found out?'

He'll just have to hide it well.

The first try was horrible, it was bitter and he kept coughing afterwards. The second was bearable, until the third, fourth, fifth, and so on. It started to feel... Different. He didn't really like it but, it kept him warm.

A pack a week wasn't so bad, right?

He was drowning in the smoke of his cigarettes, he inhaled it like it was his oxygen. The smoke entered his body and filled the empty void inside him. It was tearing him apart yet, it was hugging him like a warm blanket.

This was the best stress reliever that he's got his hands on. He would hide them his bedside drawer.

'I hope yoohyun doesn't rummage around here'

He hoped to keep this secret to his grave.

But no secret can last forever.

A few months after that he came home to his brother sobbing. Han Yoohyun was in his room holding the pack of cigarettes that he found in his hyung's room.

"HYUNG YOU'RE GONNA DIE" Han yoohyun was sobbing as he clenched his brother's shirt. "Hyung, you'll get sick and get cancer or something and you'll leave me" he was crying so much that his tears and snot were mixing together.

Han Yoojin couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "Don't worry, Yoohyunnie" he patted his brother's back "Hyung won't leave you, I promise." He says as he wraps his hands around him. "I'll stop, I'll stop. Hyung will try"

That night, his brother hugged him tight and fell asleep in his embrace.

He wanted to stop. For his brother, so the that his adorable dongsaeng won't have to cry anymore.

It took a while for him to stop, it was a long and tedious process of self control. Han Yoojin was so proud of himself.

The small crack in his shell disappeared.

For years him and his brother were happy, living thier best lives even.

And then the dungeons appeared.

His brother awakened.

His life got fucked.

His brother, his life, had abandoned him. He felt as though the void, the empty feeling that he felt before was was resurfacing.

Han Yoojin begged his brother to come see him. He didn't want to give up, is brother was the only person he had left, he was his life.

"Hyung, stop embarrassing yourself and get out. Stop being a burden. I'm building a guild, and it's going to be the strongest in the country. So, stop holding me down and leave."

He cracked. Everytime his brother refused to see him. Everytime his brother threw him out of the building.

The cracked kept growing and he was crumbling. He didn't know to piece himself back together, he never learnt how. Without his brother, without his light, without his life, what was he? What was left of him? He was nothing without his brother. Who was he if he wasn't Han yoohyun's brother?

He relapsed.

Packet after packet of cigarettes. It was dreadful, he was miserable.

He still worked, he earned money for himself, and the money his brother sends him is left untouched. He didn't want to be a leach that sucks the funds of his brother's guild. That thought made him chuckle.

How he wished he could've just lived that peaceful life.

People started to question why the Haeyeon Guild leader cut off his only family member.

Article after article was published and his reputation was in the mud.

"Haeyeon guild leader's brother was an abusive bastard!"

"His brother is pulling him down I'm glad he left him"

"Han yoojin that leach! I bet he's trying to suck money from his brother"

"I feel bad for Han yoohyun, what did his abusive brother do to him to make him completely cut ties"

"I'm glad he left him!"

He read those comments about him, eyes blank, emotionless.

"Have I been a bad brother?" He puts his phone down. "Yeah, I probably was."

Following the wave of articles published against him, he lost his jobs, he couldn't even go out without being cursed or yelled at by some random stranger.

Losing jobs was to be expected from a social pariah like himself.

Months passed and he had to sell his house. The house that held so much memories with his brother. Sold.

He moved to a small basement apartment in the bad side of town. So that's where he'll rot.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

He hated this. He wish everything would just stop. Maybe everything was just a dream. YES! A DREAM this is just a dream.... This isn't real this isn't....

He wished it was all but a dream.

He went to his brother's guild. Pleading- begging to be let in.

"LET ME SEE MY BROTHER, PLEASE. I just... I just need to see him, to talk to him, please." All his pleading goes through deaf ears and he's thrown out of the building without even seeing his brother. Now he's sitting outside the haeyeon building, alone, lonely.

"I just want to ask if.. if I can be his brother again. I wanted... I wanted to apologize."

That night he went to a store. Setting his eyes on bottles of alcohol.

He buys a whole pack of cigarettes and a handful of beer.

Chapter Text

Alcohol has a sharp, bitter, and burning taste. It was horrible; it burned his throat.

He didn't like it, but his first taste of alcohol was when he was invited by his old co-workers to drink. They had apparently found out that it was his 18th birthday.

They wanted to treat him a little bit, and so he agreed. Staying for a little while before going home to his brother.

A very memorable day for him. He got to celebrate and his brother came rushing to him with a highly decorated letter, wishing him a happy birthday.

Both of them spent the rest of the night laughing and giggling. Oh, how he loved his brother.

Now, he's sitting on the floor in his small shitty basement apartment chugging down as many bottles as he possibly can.

Ah, it burned.

It wasn't the alcohol, no. It was in his chest, his heart maybe. Who would've thought that he'd end up here? Alone in a dark apartment, smelling too much like cigarettes with one bottle of alcohol in hand.

God, he was miserable.

Why was it so dark? Was the light off? Is the electricity gone? He didn't know, he didn't care. No amount of light can replace the radiant light his brother brought to him.

He downed on more bottle, finished half of it in one chug.

That's it; He made up his mind—he would be a hunter! Yes!

'That's right, if I awakened and became strong like yoohyun, then I won't hold him down anymore'

He laughed.

'I'll prove those people-those god forsaken articles and comments, I'll prove them wrong!"

He chuckled.

He laughed like a madman. Well, he was drunk, so he was close to being one.

"Han yoohyun watch me, watch me help you. I'll be useful again, I promise" he screamed, he screamed on the top of his lungs, standing in the middle of the room as if he's talking to his brother.

Then, he sat down with a thud and finished off the remaining half of his bottle.

'i promise, yoohyun'

And we that, he fell asleep-well, passed out would be a more fitting term.

The morning after that, and the days that followed were... Something.

He found a broker. Told him he'll be an S-class, as strong as the haeyeon guild leader himself!

He was very excited to be with his brother once again that he was willing to pay any amount, so he took his saving and payed the broker.

Well, he was scammed.

F-class.

Gone with his money.

Maybe if he drunk enough alcohol everything would... Feel better? Maybe, if he drank something strong enough, it would over shadow the hollowness that he holds in his being?

"I'm going crazy" he whispered to himself. He's bruised, dirty, and sitting in a dingy alley.

The lengths he went through to awaken was tough. He thought he was gonna die, maybe he should've died-no, he can't.

'What if yoohyun needs me?'
...
....
......

'Stupid, he won't'

Seems like all he got was his good ol' cigs and alchy.

He drank himself to sleep that night.

Months passed and he decided to be a hunter-well, sometimes. He still looked for normal jobs.

Now, he's a janitor at a law firm and doing dungeon raids as a side hustle!

Well, that is if he can keep his job. His boss is yelling at him again for doing a "sloppy job" gosh it was so annoying, it's not his fault. It's the stupid hangover.

He seems to have been spending a lot of his salary on alcohol these days, he doesn't even remember that last time he didn't have atleast a bottle or two a day.

It has become a cycle for him—an Embarrassing, bitter cycle that he goes through every single day.

It made him... Feel better? Maybe it did?

Coming home was cold, it didn't feel warm anymore. The place was dirty, loitered with empty alcohol bottles, and certain parts of the wall was stained with a bit of yellow from the cigarettes.
There's unwashed dishes in the sink, and the bed unkept. Everything was just as much of a mess as he was. How laughable.

He would wake up, head pounding and muscles aching. He glanced up at his clock.

6:47

'I should get ready for work'

Staring at the empty fridge he sighed. He didn't want to eat anything today anyway.

Once again he's in his work-home-work-home schedule with and additional drunk session now.

But, is he even home? Can this poor excuse of a house even be considered as a home? His brother isn't here. It's cold, it's not his home.

He would pass by his bathroom mirror and look at the disheveled figure in Infront of him. Who is it? Who is that man?

This isn't what he was supposed to be, this isn't Han yoohyun's brother. Who is it? An irresponsible prick who can't go a day without drinking.

An alcoholic.

He chuckles

He hates mirrors.

Chapter Text

Time flew by just as fast as he chugged down bottle after bottle of the cheapest bottles he could find. He can’t seem to stop, it makes him feel warm inside when he’s cold and alone in his house. When it kicks in, it numbs him when too many things are on his mind.

Well, it numbs him enough until he sobers up.

Getting fired from his job wasn’t a surprise, he came in late and barely cleaned anything with his alcohol-induced headache that happened almost every day. He didn't mind. The job was taxing, but it was his only job. How will he fend for himself? Barely anyone would even want to hire a person like himself will all the articles published against him, blocking his job opportunities.

Everything around him disappeared like the smoke of his cigarettes, gone with the wind, his brother, job, and money. He’ll have to enter dungeons full-time soon. What can he do? He doesn’t have a job and as a bonus, maybe Yoohyun would notice him again.

He winces and walks to the bathroom. Above the sink was a medium-sized mirror. In the mirror stood a disheveled man, with unkept hair, unkept clothes, deep bags in his eyes, and a pale complexion.

Just who was this man? Every time he passes by this mirror he has the same question ringing in his ear.

The man keeps staring at him. Was he mocking him?

Every day, every single day, that man in the mirror looks at him with disgust. He hates it. He hates that it won't stop. He hates how the man stares into him, something in him that he cannot comprehend. The tired gaze clings to him like a vice.

He doesn't know if he’s just drunk or if the man in the mirror is now scowling at him, gaze filled with fiery rage saved for your worst enemy.

Why is everyone looking at him with the same eyes?

His brother

Everyone he comes across 

And now this man.

“Yoohyun looks at me in the same way.” he mumbles, voice cracking in the verge of a full-blown breakdown.

The man doesn't move, with the same fiery gaze, he stares and stares 

"Stop that" Yoojin says in a low whisper 

As though provoked, the man only looks mush more furious, now with a deeper hint of displeasure—disgust even

“Stop it!” He yells at the man in the mirror.

Nothing, it's still that judging face. Peering into Han Yoojin's disgusting soul

“I said STOP. " He yells

"STOP STOP STOPSTOPSTOP” he desperately pleads, but the man in the mirror doesn’t change.

“STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT” he yells, now enraged as well. Thoughts were rushing in his brain all these things at once.

Yoohyun’s look when he asked him to leave, an angry glare

The look of people in the streets when they recognized him

And now, the man on the mirror.

“STOP, I SAID STOP” Red-hot anger spread all over his body

But when he looked at the mirror once more, there he saw not only the man, but his brother, and everyone else with that same glare. 

"Nonononyoohyun" 

His breathing became heavy and sweat dripped from his face. 

"This isn't realThis isn't realThis isn't realThisisn'treal" Han yoojin repeats like a madman until with a swift motion, he raised his hands and violently smashed the man-the mirror in front of him. The shards slashed his flesh, earning various cuts all over his hand. Slowly, crimson liquid started to drip down from the wounds.

Silence.

“It’s gone”

The noise is gone.

The stares are gone

His chest no longer carries a heavy weight, and the void is gone—numb, only a distant sound of ringing in his ears. The searing ache in his palm along with his blood dripping down his elbow and eventually onto the floor took its place.

This is it, this is what he was looking for.

He stared at his bleeding hand, the crimson liquid coating his pale skin in such a vibrant color, the strong metallic smell of iron invaded his nose, making him more nauseous. Despite this, his eyes don't leave the wound, he’s rather fascinated to find a new way—a better way to ease his troubles.

Everything was better, calm, and numb. Until the pain subsided, the wound stopped bleeding and his high came down. It’s a temporary relief, he knows this, yet it fell too short. He needed more.

He looked around anxiously.

Suddenly, the mirror shards on the floor became a heavy presence, impossible to ignore. As though in a trance, he reaches for it.

His hand grips the shard so hard that it re-opens his wounds. The wet noise of his blood echoes in the cold bathroom as it pierces his already wounded hand. A new wave of pain and blood came to him like a drug he was sure would eventually end him.

And so it began.

Following that night, he started to find more ways on how to get that same feeling, that numbness and peace in his mind, even for just a short period of time.

Deep down inside he knew that he needed to bleed once more.

___________

Going from one “perfectly legal” dungeon to another as an F-Class is not an easy feat. He would come home in a state that could be comparable to the undead. It stressed him out so much that soon, his cigarettes and alcohol consumption increased and well as his desire to bleed, Han yoojin chased the feeling, he craved for it like a drug addict.

Embarrassingly enough, he bought a cutter, sharp and hard. He berates himself on how far he had fallen, from the beloved hyung to the hated guild leader’s self destructive older brother.

He chuckles.

He hasn’t really tried after the mirror incident, but he’s being too restless recently, risking his life in the dungeons only to scowled at by his teammates, as a useless F-class, and as the infamous leach of a brother that he was, according to the articles that is.

well, he isn’t gonna do this sober that's for sure, he thinks as he gulps down a fair amount of alcohol from his bottle

He brings out his wrist and and held the sharp cutter in one hand, grazing it at his skin before, in a swift motion, presses it in and slices a deep cut.

For a few moments, a white line was the only thing that he can picture on his skin. Later, red liquid started to flow out, slowly oozing out as his skin parted and the wound revealed itself. It doesn’t even hurt much, just a tingling feeling in his wrist.

Once again he’s able to feel that calmness in his mind, his head felt as light as a feather, and the tingling feeling in his wrists overpowers all aches he previously carries.

He takes another swift slice, and another, and another…..

He painted his skin with lines, various shapes and sizes that perfectly captured the crumbling mess that he embodied. He made his skin his canvas, his misery was the brush strokes and finally, he himself was the masterpiece that he created.

He couldn't stop

Slicing his skin with the sharp metal made him feel....

Something 

Maybe, that something was the feeling that he's been looking for. 

The feeling of a cold, sharp metal gliding across his skin until it forms a rift in his arms and gushes out blood-red liquid until his senses are numb is what he was aching for.

He drops the blood stained cutter on the floor with a loud clang.

Bloody cuts spread across his skin, dyeing his arms and the shirt into a crimson hue. He let it bleed, bleed out because he felt amazing. 

He was in cloud nine, he can't feel anything but the feeling of a sticky liquid going dripping down his arms.

By the end of it, he was a bloody mess. Laying on the floor with a small puddle of his own blood underneath.

___________

Waking up in a white sterile room was the last thing that he wanted to see after doing that stunt. He knows he fucked up but what could he do? ‘Stuoidstupidstupid’ He chants to himself, panic setting in as his eyes venture around the room and eventually, his eyes grows wide as they land on his bandaged arm.

This is gonna cost him a fortune

His heart rate increases 

He didn’t really have any money for a stupid thing like this.

His breath becomes shakey

He’s so convinced that he would’ve bounced back like he always have. “Fuck what am I suppose to” he mumbles, frustrated, with his brows in a tight knot.

Ah. he could already see the headlines of the articles out to get the most of the situation

“Han Yoojin, pulls his brother down once more as he pathetically fails to commit suicide”

“Han Yoojin: Haeyeon Guild leader’s estranged older brother fails suicide attempt”

“Clout chasing Haeyeon Guild leader’s older brother pulls another stunt”

He was panicking, he didn’t want his brother’s name involved in this. How stupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupid. The words were on repeat in his mind. It wasn’t even his intention to die, he just wanted some relief that’s all.

His hands began to shake. 

"This can't be happening"

"Yoohyun's gonna hate me more"

"What am I gonna do"

He was a trembling mess, maybe he should just make a run for? No- that's. Who brought him here? Does yoohyun know? Fuck what should I do? 

He covers his face with his shaking hands. 

Fuck, I can't have this—I can't have a panic attack I-

The knob of his hospital room suddenly moved, someone was entering his hospital room.

Chapter Text

 Han Yoojin was still shaking, unsure how to push the panicky feeling down as the door opened. He didn’t want to face anyone at the moment; if he could only jump out of the window right now, he would. 

The handle turns and a woman enters, she doesn’t look like a nurse, yoojin concludes. Rather, she looked more like a hunter, sharp, and an intimidating aura surrounding her.  

“Han Yoojin-ssi, you’re finally awake” The woman spoke in a monotonous manner. “I’m a healer from Haeyeon I was tasked to… assist you” irritation seeped out from every word that she was forced to say to the man. 

“I see…. did Yoohyun send you?” He asked, a glimmer of hope escaping from his eyes. 

“The guild leader is unaware of your… unfortunate situation.” 

Yoojin didn’t know if he should be relieved or displeased—relieved because his brother didn’t know of his stupid actions or displeased because his brother didn’t even care enough to find out. He looked down; he was still shaking slightly. He kept his head down, unsure how to approach the woman or ask questions that flooded his mind. 

The woman breaks the silence “You were found by a neighbor, swimming in a pool of your own blood. Did you try to kill yourself?” 

“No… it’s not like that, i swear” he says, almost in a whisper

“Then, what were you doing? Fucking around with what? A knife? Or was it a cutter”

He stays silent, drowning in shame as the woman berates him.

“The medic came in before we could and they treated your wounds, we couldn’t slip in some potions since it had been treated when we arrived. I’m afraid that it will scar.” She says looking down at him as he slumps down further on his hospital bed.

She sighs. 

“Don’t do something stupid like this again. It’s selfish. There are a lot of people with worse circumstances than you. Suck it up” ‘Or I’ll be the one in trouble’ goes unsaid. The truth is, it’s not that the guild leader doesn’t want to know, it’s that she’ll probably lose her job if Yoojin does die or if the guild leader finds out that his beloved hyung almost died from cutting himself and the people he assigned to watch over Han Yoojin failed to come on time. For the sake of her job, she won’t report this to Seok Simyeong, especially not the guild leader.

Han Yoojin grew silent, not even his breathing could be heard. His head was down and his hands were still trembling. 

The woman stared at the man and sighed. “Don’t give me more work, Han Yoojin-ssi. I know we’ve only met each other today but I’m from Haeyeon, your brother’s guild. Anything you do that will negatively impact your brother will negatively impact Haeyeon and therefore, me.”

 Yoojin slightly nods. 

“You’ll be discharged soon. Your bill has already been taken care of.”

With that, the woman finally left him alone.

For a few moments, he did not dare to move, like a statue, he sat there unmoving. Then, the emotions finally burst inside him. He sobbed like never before, crying uncontrollably as though he was a child. He feels like his chest is about to fall to the floor, the unbearable weight pulling him down like an anchor.

The anguish seems to overflow, filling his chest until he feels he might drown in it. It’s as if he lies limp in an overflowing tub, unable to move—unwilling to surface. The pain is unbearable and unrelenting. 

Crack

Crack

He hugged himself because no one would. He only has himself. He knew that, but it still hurt. It’s hard to accept that he’s been left alone, thrown to the side like he had depleted his use. 

Han Yoojin has become a burden, an eyesore. Back then, his brother would even send Seok Simyeong to stop him from whatever shenanigans he would tangle himself up in or clean up the mess. But, now it’s a random hunter. Has he become such an eyesore that his brother wouldn’t even spare a second to check up on him?

Oh, who was he kidding? He had long since been abandoned, thrown out like the trash that he was. Maybe this was it; he needed to let go.

No.

He doesn’t want to let go. He cannot let go. He must stay for this is where he belongs, this is his home, the warm company and the loving brotherly relationship that he had with Yoohyun. Currently, it may not be in the best condition, the floor is wet, the roof is leaking and the foundation itself is crumbling but he can fix it. He swears that he can. If only his brother would talk to him. 

But Han Yoohyun won’t even spare him a glance.

______________  

 After getting discharged, he checked his phone and thankfully, no news about his ‘stupid stunt’ got out. And so he continues with his daily activities. But of course, he didn’t stop with his habits, no. As a matter of fact, it only continues to grow. His sight was filled with the dark smoke that his cigarettes emitted, the bitter taste of cheap booze never left his tongue, and his senses were numbed by lines that he made on his skin. 

He grew to hate glancing at his skin, scowling at it, or giving it a disgusted look whenever he was faced with the displeasure or laying eyes on it. So he always wore some kind of long-sleeved shirt. That is if you could still call it a skin, it looked inhuman, it shouldn't look like that, it was crowded with scars of different sizes. Uneven lines that were accompanied by a bumpy texture that he could feel whenever it was brushed against something. 

_______________

Just like how there are better cigarette brands or how there are types of alcohol with different strengths, alcohol concentrations, or effects, his cuts have ones too. He found out that shallow cuts hurt just right, and the itchy, uncomfortable feeling lingers longer and doesn’t leave any scars. Perfect for when you need to keep your shit up on a busy day. The deep ones, however, hurt a lot more but oftentimes, it becomes numb after a while so he only turns to them when he needs immediate release. 

Of course, working in dungeons as an F-rank was self-destruction as it was, but he continued. It didn’t help that his comrades were dying left and right. He cursed himself for surviving, for using their deaths, their skills, after they had already fallen in battle.

Leaving dungeons alone, covered in the blood of his teammates, his friends was excruciating. His skills were more like a curse to him rather than a blessing. He stood as the last man standing while they died. They all died. 

The guilt was eating him alive; it chipped away at him slowly, piece by piece, until nothing remained. He did survive, he always did. But at the cost of a life or two, sometimes even the majority, if not all of the other hunters with him.

This didn't go unnoticed by the public, and more articles, accusing him as a traitorous killer started to float around. They say that he killed those hunters in cold-blood, they say that he leeches off of those hunters and then kills them when he has the chance to. 

Once more, he’s dragged to the ground. 

He hasn’t come after Yoohyun for a while now, he stayed silent, doing his job, almost dying and seeing other people die, yet once again, he’s the center of hate. Is that who is now? A figure that should be hated?

He would laugh alone in his room as he drowns in booze. The downward spiral of his life continues without fail, without a pause. The smell of cigarettes crawling on his skin, attaching itself to him like a permanent mask. He was barely sober, sometimes, only stopping when he needed to go to a dungeon to earn money. 

Good thing he barely ate anything, less expenses. Well, not like he can eat anything without throwing up. The ugly grumble of his stomach screams every time he downs another bottle for the day. 

He got used to it. How can he not? It was a daily occurrence. It felt euphoric to drink with an empty stomach. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Heck, it felt so good that he can’t even remember the last time that he ate a decent meal.

Skin and bones, that was what he was, A drunkard useless older brother who can’t stay clean or sober for the life of him. No wonder he was dragged to a rehab facility. He doesn’t know who sent him there, it was sudden. Maybe his neighbors? Or the landlady? Either way, it didn’t matter. 

It’s not fair. 

He just wanted to be with his brother. To cook for him, tuck him in bed, or help with his studies. How long has it been since he had a conversation with his brother? Years? The days keep blurring and mixing, it’s hard to tell. 

Reality was still a blur for Han Yoojin. The only thing that rehab did for him was prevent him from using his escapes, his coping mechanism, his booze, his cigs, and his blade. While in there, he found that he can use his nails, long enough to pierce his skin. It wasn’t the best method though, when the nurses found out they did a weekly check on his nails to stop it from happening again.

It was hell.

When he got out of rehab, nothing changed. He still felt empty, dull, cracked. Yeah, he was clean, of course he was. He can’t really do all of his habits there but the scars remain. Staring at him like his personal reminder. 

Coming back as a hunter was the obvious choice for him. Again and again, he fell back into his habits. Not like there was anyone to care for him—no

_______________

It was a normal raid in a low-class dungeon when some hunters approached him with a wide grin. “If it isn’t the deranged older brother of Haeyeon “ The man in the middle spoke. Han Yoojin was used to this kind of situation so he paid no mind. 

Unfortunately, the hunters were in the mood to have what they called “fun.” 

 a fight between hunters, an altercation, an accident.

His leg was shattered

Broken

Fuck.

He can’t feel his leg, he can’t feel anything. It was a blur, he wished that it was just a dream. Yeah, a blurry dream that you get when you take your afternoon nap. 

But it wasn’t 

Waking up in a white sterile room confirmed that. 

He was still numb. Too numb. He couldn’t feel his lower half. So he glanced at it. Ah, it was broken, it was in a cast, fuck how did this happen? Why to him? It was shattered. He was sure of it. He felt it, he heard it shatter, unbeknownst to him if he’ll be able to walk at all after this. Where will he even get the money for this? He’s not financially well-off enough for a potion, so surgery? It will still cost him a fortune.

Days following that became a blur, it didn’t even sink into him that his brother had covered the cost for his surgery, and it didn’t sink in that he would have a permanent limp. Nothing sunk in. He was just an empty husk of what used to be a person.

Shattering his leg was the last straw. 

Each day passed was like another push toward the deep end for him. He couldn’t escape. He would limp out of bed at god knows what time, sometimes not even leaving his bed at all unless he had a job that day.

Everything was the same, it only became darker and darker with each passing moment. He can’t even walk properly. He didn’t even have the energy to go out and buy cigarettes or booze. Not wanting to put himself out there in the streets with his limp.

Walking was a difficult task. Moving alone was a pain, even when staying still something would hurt. His injured leg ached painfully and it rendered him unable to do anything. 

The crutches were a help especially when doing his jobs in a dungeon, or when he needed to do an errand outside. It made him recognizable, to his dismay. However, the comments, snarles, and stares became much worse than before. 

Years passed.

Just like that, it had been eight years since the dungeons appeared, eight years since he lost contact with his brother, eight years since his life became an absolute mess.

Chapter Text

Han Yoojin grunts, the annoying sound of his alarm echoes around his small apartment, the vibrations coursing down his body with a painful ache: another morning, another day of dragging his shit around, barely living, barely surviving.

He checked his clock: 11:00 am. The sun was already up and burning, though barely evident through the dark walls of his apartment. It’s almost as though he’s confined in an area that harmonizes with the darkness, repulsed by the sun with nothing but a dying light bulb as his source of light.

It was rather hot today, summer, he thinks. The seasons go by so slowly nowadays. Last winter seemed to last for an eternity, trapping him in a freezing abyss. The cold made his leg ache, it made him feel every scar on his body, every broken bone. Sharper than the blade he uses.

He’s glad that it is summer. But of course it came with its own problems too, it was quite a nuisance to wear long-sleeves during this season. Not like he was privileged enough to buy an AC, nor was he… clean… enough to wear anything but clothes that basically covered every surface of his skin.

Today, he had a raid to join, nothing out of the ordinary, a lower-class dungeon that he needed to clear with a small group of hunters. Well, like always, he just needs to lay low and hide until those combat hunters take care of the low-class monsters, and he’ll just deal with the cleanup.

Just thinking about it already makes him sigh from exhaustion. Nevertheless, he gets up, stumbling over the empty bottles on the floor. His place reeked. It smelled like rotting food. Or maybe he was the one rotting; who knows.

His steps are rather heavier today. When has he last eaten? He eyed the half-empty ramen on his table. Was that yesterday? Two days ago? He shook his head. It didn’t matter. He’ll make sure to grab something after the raid. Grabbing his crutches, he makes his way to the door, looking at his apartment, why does he feel… odd about leaving today. For a few moments he stood there, behind his door, as though frozen. Nevertheless, what choice did he really have on this? Odd feeling or not, he's going out today.

That odd feeling isn’t really gonna pay for his rent this month. And so he goes on his way to another fucked up odyssey in the land of dungeons and monsters, surviving as a pebble, or a leech that he calls himself.

Annoyed faces welcomed him as he stepped foot near the dungeon, his supposed comrades eyeing him like he was the bane of their existence. Who can blame them, though? He was indeed nothing more than a pebble on the road for these hunters, dragging them down with every mission and latching on the little amount that they earn from the low-level dungeons.
He understood that much at least. So, his head remained low. His gaze stuck to the ground, seemingly ashamed for something that he had no control over. A situation he is familiar with after years of facing the hateful stare of the people.

“Are we seroisly taking a wimp like that to our raid again? One person asks with annoyance

“Just let him be, not like we can afford to hire anyone better” the leader answered

“Ha, he’s bad luck! He survives raids even when his comrades die, on top of that, he’s a leech!” The first man yells.

“That’s enough, we should start soon. Everyone get ready.”

“Here we go again” Yoojin murmurs to himself as he gets up to enter the dungeon.

———————————

fuck

Fuck

FUCK

FUCKKIINGGG HELLL

What the fuck is happening?! This was supposed to be a normal dungeon. Fuck. What’s a high-level dragon doing here? Fuck fuck I’m so dead. The effects of Final Thanks from the leader isn’t enough, I’m gonna die I’m gonna die Imgonnadie ImgonnadieImgonnadieImgonnadieImgonnadieImgonnadie-

Just before he can finish his thoughts, he catches something in his peripheral vision, a swift, ruthless motion that targets the vile monster ahead. Seeing the Silhouette of the man sparked a plethora of emotions within Yoojin. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

What was his brother, his sweet wonderful baby brother doing here, in this dangerous place, “The dragon is too strong… too strong H-he’ll get hurt” he desperately murmurs to himself, gripping his hair with so much force that it feels like his hair is falling apart. He could feel his chest tighten, he couldn't breath, he felt as though he was drowning. As he fell to himself he could feel that his surroundings seemed to crumble and the floor seemed to disappear. “Fuck,” he curses, yet he could barely hear his own voice. It was muffled by the loud ringing in his ear that seemed to accompany the darkening of his vision.

BANG!

The loud noise pulled him back from his impending panic attack and he saw his brother getting thrown back.

His brother covered for him, his brother got hurt because he was so stupid! he didn't move, he was frozen from his spot, trembling like a deer caught in headlights.

“YOOHYUN!!,” he yells, riddled with worry and guilt. Thankfully, his brother seemed fine for the most part, shaking it off. Yet, before his brother could fully stand, Yoojin saw the dragon. The damned dragon aiming to once again attack-to hurt his baby brother.

He rushed to the other side, dragging his broken leg, yelling, getting its attention. A pathetic attempt at saving his brother.

The Dragon looked at him.

Good. He got his attention.

“C-come get me!,” he yells, terrified.

And the dragon obeyed.

Yoojin could almost taste his death now, is this why he felt odd earlier? he chuckles.

“Will this be the end of me?” He asks himself, dazed at the impending attack of the dragon. He had fantasized about this very moment for such a long time yet, why does he tremble? Why is he… scared?

For a moment he hears his brother scream.

“HYUNG!”

Ahh yes, I'm doing this for him. To save him. I'm sure that he has a gate stone… he can save himself. I'm sure. If I die now, he'll still live. Maybe even a better life without someone like me dragging him down with every step of the way.

However, nothing in his life seems to follow his wishes.

BLOOD.

So much blood.

It wasn't his.

It was his Yoohyun’s

His brother's blood was on him.

No.

No.

No.

Stop bleeding NO!!

The blood soaked him, it dripped to the floor, staining it deep crimson.

His brother was in front of him, he had taken the blow.
“Hyung, take this,” his brother offered a gate stone “l-leave. Save yourself,” he rasps out, panting heavily, feeling like every word he utters thins his breath.

“Leave,” His brother says, weakly. Too weak. Even more so now that… he could feel power surging in him. The notification of final thanks mocking him.

He screamed, an agonizing scream. Then, everything was a blur. The memories invading him didn't seem to register in his brain. He didn't understand any of it. It was a blur. It didn't matter because now, his brother is dead. What use is seeing those memories if his brother is no longer there.

He was in a daze, a killing machine, killing the Dragon was his only and last task. To avenge his brother and follow him in death. For he has long since lost his right to live. He should've done this sooner. If he did, then he should've been the only one without warmth right now. He had stolen a life. His brother's life.

He didn't even remember when he delivered the killing blow. All he can see now was the useless rewards that the system showers him with.

Just as when he was placing the sword in his neck, a reward appears.

Wish stone

Like a starved animal seeing food for the first time he rushes. “Revive my brother”

“You cannot bring the dead back to life,” it says

“T-then can you exchange my life for my brothers’?,” Yoojin pleads

“Invalid”

Fuck.

“Then, time? turn back time? Before I awaken?,” he asks

The system loads… and the last thing he sees was pitch black.

Chapter Text

The moment Han Yoojin opened his eyes, he felt nothing—absolute numbness. He was staring at his ceiling, basking in the darkness of his house, mind unusually blank. However, when he tried to stand up, he was met with the cold, messy floor. Before he could even process anything, a surge of sharp, aching pain shot through his entire body.

He screamed, screamed oh, so painfully loud as he felt as though his whole world was crashing down on him, crushing him like the pebble he was. He could feel his body being re-shaped, years of injury–scars are once again engraved into his body in one fell swoop

However, his horrors had just begun. He saw blood—blood staining his hands, his shirt, everything around him. It was a deep, vivid red.

‘My baby’ he sobbed as the memories of what had just transpired flooded his mind. He stared at his hands and he was overcame with unfathomable guilt. The blood of his beloved baby brother, the death that he caused.

He had no one to blame but himself and he wished that he could rip his own skin from his body so that he could make the man who harmed his brother suffer the worst pain that a man could.

The feeling won't come off, his brother's cold body seems as though it's still in his hands, and his blood-his brother's blood is still in his hands. A sticky, slimy, and red layer coating his hands and glued to his skin, feeling cold and burning hot simultaneously. He can still smell the iron scent that came with his brother’s precious blood.

Han Yoojin rushed to the bathroom, limping. As he reached the sink, he washed his hands, scrubbing them until they were a light shade of red. But even if he scrubbed his hands until they bled, the blood wouldn't come off. The blood stayed in his hands, haunting him.

He blinks once.

Twice

Trice and exhales with a shaky breath, as he falls to ground, his body no longer able to support its own weight.

"It's not real" he mumbles to himself, eyes locked on his hands, shaky and unfocused, every part of his body still burning with pain yet, all seemed to be numb compared to warmth of his brother’s blood.

The blood was never real, it hasn't happened yet but why can he feel it? It's in his hands—his body, clinging on to him like a second skin.

It's my fault

It's my fault

It's my fault

'I'm sorry Yoohyun.'

He looks up from the sink, still nauseous from shock. As he stares at his reflection in the mirror, he notices that he's panting and dripping in sweat.

He breathes. A poor attempt to calm down.

Yoohyun is alive.

He's alive.

"My brother is alive." He whispers desperately

He halts.

While staring at the mirror, he realizes something. Ah, this mirror, he knows this mirror. The mirror that ignited his crimson-shrouded fate. It has returned to torment him once more. This fueled his spiral, it tempted him to sink deeper. To destroy his body, his resolve, his stability, and everything else. This mirror started his quest to destroy himself.

He hates mirrors.

"Ah, I really am back aren't I?"

"My brother is alive," he whispers, still shaken.

He lets the air fill his lungs, and slowly, surely, he'll find a way to calm himself down.

The man in the mirror looks at him, as if it's mocking him for his incompetence, judging the very core of his soul with its tired, sunken eyes. He hates mirrors, they drive him mad, enough to add fuel to the strong ache that his body is currently facing.

Mirrors are the reason why he's drowning, it's the reason why he's trapped in this cycle. If the monster in the mirror hadn't driven him to a state close to insanity, his brother wouldn't have perished in that dungeon.

Crack

He hates mirrors

Crack

Just like what he did years before regressing, he breaks the mirror with his bare hands. Taking in the pain as the shards pierce his skin—once more painting it into a crimson piece of what he calls art

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. Han Yoohyun is alive- his brother is back.

With a bleeding hand, he sits down in the cold and hard bathroom, beside the sink, beside the broken mirror shards. Han yoojin's internal cracks widened and gaped. With every crack, his already battered husk threatens to crumble at the slightest touch. The inner turmoil that these cracks caused strained against the delicate boundaries of his stability.

He stares at his hands, wrists, and arms, which are infested with lines, some white, some brown in different shapes and sizes The distasteful sight is enough to send shivers down his spine. The years that he spent shaping his body to resemble the cracks that he had in his heart were not left in vain, it followed him, here, after regression. Is this the world’s way of letting him know that he will forever be this distorted

Now, with his crimson-red hand, a new mark will most likely stay with him.
But it's not enough—It's never enough.

He's never enough.

Now, he's just a broken husk of the man–the brother that he used to be.

Just then, the pain became unbearable and his world turned black.

— — — — — — — — — — — —
From the moment he awakened, Han Yoohyun only had one thing in mind: to become the strongest so that he can protect his brother. Unfortunately, that road is a long and dangerous one for him, and for the people around him. His loved ones—his hyung.

Even though it had pained him, he had left his brother in a pathetic attempt to protect him, so that he may not be dragged into this hellhole that he found himself in. He vowed that once all of this is over, that once he was the strongest hunter in Korea, he would mend things with his brother and return to his loving embrace.
To be a family again.

He knew it would take time to reach the top, and every time he heard his brother waiting, begging to see him, it would take every ounce of his self-control not to go up there and see him, to apologize for leaving him, for ignoring him and forsaking him. Yet he can do no such thing, for it will jeopardize the image that he built in order to keep his brother safe.

His brother is weak—for goodness' sake, he wasn’t even awakened—a normal citizen with a mountain ready to bury him the moment his S-rank younger brother fucks up. He can’t have that. Now he only exists so that one day his brother can live a comfortable life.

Han Yoohyun is painfully aware of the lengths that his brother had to go through just so he can provide for the both of them. The sleepless nights and the skipped meals that his brother had to endure just so he can go to school and live his life. He wants nothing more than to make his hyung experience a better life, to live for himself without having to worry about anything else.

Which is why when the moment Seok Simyeong gave him a report regarding his brother’s hospitalization, his world came crashing in, he could feel his immeasurable rage manifest into his ability, burning his chair and table, making the poor Seok Simyeong step back and remind him of his composure lest he wants to burn the whole building to the ground.

“How did this happen?” he asks

“The neighbors heard screaming and something… shattering so they called the authorities. Moreover, the person that we assigned to guard and watch over him failed to report on time, but due to your brother’s severe… predicament, she finally…reported it to me after 2 da-” Before he could finish what he was saying, the guild leader threw a burning chair to the wall, enraged.

“My brother, has hospitalized for 2 days. 2 FUCKING DAYS and you’re telling me this only now?” He yelled.

“She was afraid of getting fired for failing to properly protect and watch over your brother so she-”

"Well she’s FIRED. Take care of it.” He snaps

“Will do, sir”

“How is he?” He asks cautiously.

“Still unconscious. The doctors have been perplexed on what has been keeping him unconscious, other than his fresh injury, cuts from the mirror they presume, nothing else seems wrong…” He pauses. “Other than the fact that he seems to have an old unhealed knee injury… that might’ve been…pestering him.”

“Pestering him?” he asks

“If the doctors are correct and it’s an old injury, he might’ve been struggling to walk since he got that injury”

Han Yoohun’s eyes widened. “How can we not have noticed that? How the fuck did that even happen in the first place”

“I apologize guild leader however, I am unable to give you answers at the moment. Now, if you’d excuse me, I need to cover this up so the press won’t come flocking here like starved animals” Seok Simyeong breaths out.

Han Yoohyun was spiraling to say the least. How the fuck did this actually happen? Why was his brother injured? What the fuck? He couldn’t wrap his his head around the situation. He has done everything in his power to protect his brother yet, he still ended up in the hospital. Injured and suffering from the aftermath of an injury he didn't even have the knowledge of.

He needs to go see him. He needs to make sure that Han Yoojin is okay. He will not make the same awful mistake of leaving him defenseless, bare and free for his enemies to harm. The mere thought of the cause of his brother’s injuries is enough to keep his rage rise to the point where it can even be rivaled with the famous achilles’ rage.

The image of other hunters hurting him, punching him and doing god knows what to him sends his mind burning. In contrast, the thought of his brother staying silent about this has caused an even larger storm to pool inside him. ‘How many times has this happened? Who would dare? Why didn’t you say anything?’ All this questions raced in his mind yet they were left unanswered.

What was the point of distancing himself from his brother in order to protect him if was just gonna end up lying on a hospital bed? If only he thought about this sooner, if only he had been a little stronger, a little smarter, his brother won’t be facing this.

Fueled by his worry, he rushes to the hospital, not wanting to waste more time standing around. He’ll make things right. He’ll never leave his brother’s side again—he’s borne enough in silence, and Han Yoohyun won’t let it happen anymore.