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Hm. He’s awoken in this white room once more, and nothing seems to be different.
There are dozens of wanted posters on the same blank wall, framing a smug looking woman who is wanted for terrorism, or at least, was wanted for terrorism.
He comes down from his bed to approach one of the posters, which he himself had placed to be at eye level. Giving it a quick peck, he moves to look out the window, accidentally catching a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He pauses, looking at the almost unfamiliar features that he really should’ve gotten used to in the last seven years.
The face is still littered with burn scars after that rocket came down on the finale stadium. Come to think of it, what had that even been about? Everyone was screaming about it, Mizi from round 5 had apparently managed to hack into and hijack a lethal missile, and then she blew up the stadium, and also scarred his beautiful face.
Otherwise than that, he’d say he looks fine.
He moves to look out the window, and for once, actually sees other people, but only one catches his eye. A young boy with familiar blonde hair and very familiar tan skin, sticking on an odd name tag, “Tommy”. After staring for about fifteen seconds, part of his mind remembers that he’s probably going to get canceled for staring at kids, so he wisely breaks his gaze away.
The thought of her stays in his head, even if his gaze left that kid. These thoughts cause him slight distress, which leaves Luka pacing for about ten minutes.
One minute, what had she looked like again? He glances at the posters for his answer.
Two minutes, does that child know the goddess that his apparent mother is?
Three minutes, he wonders if he’ll ever be able to leave the room again.
Four minutes, he acknowledges the author’s laziness for thoughts and knows that he’s going to have one singular thought for the next five minutes.
Five minutes, Hyuna.
Six minutes, Hyuna.
Seven minutes, Hyuna.
Eight minutes, Hyuna.
Nine minutes, Hyuna.
Ten minutes, didn’t Hyuna have a song for when she was distressed that she would hum and occasionally sing for him and Hyunwoo?
He couldn’t remember what she’d call the song, something about a cradle?
No matter, that’s what he needed right now. He had taken the grace of remembering the lyrics and melody to the song, because he remembered everything about her that he had ever noticed or been told.
He walks to the corner of the room, and picks up the dusty violin that hadn’t been touched in the last seven years.
With trembling hands, he lifts it into position, and begins playing.
In the song’s wake, he swears he can almost hear a woman’s voice singing along with his, melodic, perfect enough that he’d make the entire universe deaf so he could have it all to himself.
He plays the song again and again, the warmth of the song briefly filling his empty heart. As the sun goes down, he finally understands what she had been talking about that day.
To live with love, she had broken and freed him, but had she really? He was still stuck under his guardian, still a burnt face, still everything he had been seven years ago. This thought is overwhelming to think about.
He plays the song again.