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Remnants of a Dying Sun

Chapter 12: To Shine

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

At first, there was nothing but darkness, an infinite void stretching endlessly. Then, as if summoned by an unseen force, the emptiness morphed into a small, dimly lit room. In the center stood two chairs facing each other. One was occupied by a hooded figure, their face obscured by shadows, and the other by a boy who appeared to be asleep, his head tilted slightly to the side.

The hooded figure snapped their fingers, the sound echoing unnaturally in the quiet room. Instantly, the boy stirred. Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking groggily as his surroundings began to come into focus. Confusion clouded his expression as he looked around, struggling to understand where he was.

He rubbed his eyes and squinted, but the dim light didn’t reveal much. The only thing clear was the figure sitting across from him.

“Hello…” the hooded figure said, their voice calm and measured.

Sunoo hesitated, his voice shaky. “Uh… hello?”

He tried to study the person before him, but the hood obscured most of their features. Only the lower half of their face was visible, and from what he could see, they were smiling—a subtle, almost unsettling curve of their lips.

“Did you have a good sleep?” the figure asked, their tone carrying a strange mix of warmth and mystery.

“I… I don’t know?” Sunoo stammered, his unease growing. “W-wait, where am I? Who are you?”

The figure chuckled softly. “Ah, my apologies, Sunoo-ssi. My name is Emrad.”

“E-Emrad?” Sunoo repeated, the unfamiliar name rolling awkwardly off his tongue.

“Yes,” the figure confirmed with a slight nod.

“So… what am I doing here? Where is this place?” Sunoo demanded, his voice laced with nervous energy.

Emrad leaned back slightly, the hood tilting as if considering his words. “Have you forgotten already? Try to remember carefully…”

Sunoo frowned, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the situation. Memories felt hazy, distant, like a puzzle with missing pieces. He closed his eyes tightly, forcing himself to think. What had happened before he found himself here?

Flashes of his last moments began to surface—a sense of despair, a deep loneliness, and then… darkness. His heart raced as fragmented emotions bubbled to the surface.

“What…” he whispered, his voice trembling. “What is this place? What’s going on?”

Emrad’s smile widened, though it was hard to tell if it was one of reassurance or something more cryptic. “You’re beginning to remember, aren’t you?”

“You’re beginning to remember, aren’t you?”

Sunoo’s breath hitched, and he nodded hesitantly. “Y-yes...”

The memories flooded back like a tide, washing over him with relentless force. His expression darkened as the fragmented pieces came together.

“But I’m supposed to be—” he began, his voice breaking.

“Dead,” Emrad interrupted calmly. “I’m aware.”

Sunoo’s words faltered, and he sank into a tense silence.

“So, where am I?” Sunoo finally asked, his voice laced with unease. “Is this... hell? I mean, I did take my own life. Are you... God?”

Emrad’s keen eyes softened as he noticed the guilt etched deeply into Sunoo’s features.

“This is not hell,” Emrad replied, his tone firm but kind. “And no, I am certainly not God.”

“I see...” Sunoo muttered, his voice barely audible.

Emrad leaned forward, his gaze steady. “Sunoo-ssi, if the Gods are watching, would you ask them to give you another chance?”

“Another chance?” Sunoo echoed, letting out a weary sigh.

“I don’t think so,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping under an invisible weight.

Emrad’s faint frown hinted at disappointment. “Why is that?”

“It’s too painful,” Sunoo murmured, his voice hollow.

A contemplative pause followed before Emrad spoke again, his tone shifting to something lighter, almost playful. “Sunoo-ssi, have you ever played a game?”

“A game? Y-yeah... why?” Sunoo asked, his confusion apparent.

“If a game is broken,” Emrad explained, “people complain, correct?”

Sunoo nodded slowly, unsure of where this was going.

“Then,” Emrad continued, his voice steady and deliberate, “can you do the same thing?”

“What do you mean?” Sunoo asked, his brows furrowing.

“Complain about the life that led you to end yours,” Emrad urged, leaning back into his chair. “Speak up. Let it all out.”

Sunoo’s eyes widened at the suggestion, hesitation flickering across his face. Yet, the weight of his unspoken frustrations pressed on him, urging him to seize this rare opportunity.

Taking a shaky breath, Sunoo began. “I hate how my parents left me in my grandmother’s care. I hate how she treated me like a servant, how she used my kindness to fuel her selfish goals.”

Emrad nodded encouragingly as Sunoo’s voice gained momentum.

“I hate how I was mocked by my classmates just because I act feminine,” Sunoo continued, his words spilling out faster now. “I hate how my grandmother never supported my dream of becoming an idol. And when I joined that competition... no one wanted to be my friend. I hate that I won, only to be insulted and mocked—not just by strangers, but even by my own group members.”

Sunoo’s voice wavered, his emotions surging to the surface.

“I hate how isolated I feel, even though I’m supposed to belong to a group,” he said, tears welling in his eyes. “I hate how my efforts are dismissed, how my struggles mean nothing because they’ve had it easier.”

The tremor in his voice deepened as he pressed on. “I hate that they never asked if I was okay. I hate that I became a target for toxic fans, and no one—not even the company—defended me. I hate pretending everything is fine while people laugh at me just because I gained weight.”

As Sunoo’s sobs began to shake his frame, Emrad appeared beside him without a sound, pulling him into a tight embrace. But Sunoo kept going, desperate to unburden himself.

“When my grandmother realized I was earning money, she never stopped asking for it. She spent it all on gambling,” Sunoo cried, clenching his fists. “But I kept giving it to her because if I didn’t, she’d make a fuss. People would call me ungrateful, and I couldn’t endure more ridicule.”

His tears streamed freely now, but he continued, his voice raw and strained. “I thought becoming an idol would free me from her control, but it only made her grip tighter. It’s so painful to keep pretending. Even the staff, the fans, everyone—they all treat me like I’m nothing. If I gain weight, I’m mocked. If I eat less, I’m scolded. If I eat more, I’m shamed. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Emrad’s embrace tightened, his presence grounding Sunoo’s unraveling emotions.

“I’ve spent so many nights staring at my reflection, wondering if I still have the strength to continue,” Sunoo whispered, his voice cracking. “And every day, that strength fades. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be happy... to truly be happy.”

Emrad held him close, his voice tender as he finally spoke. “Dear child... I am so sorry for what you’ve endured.”

He stayed there, cradling Sunoo in his arms until the boy’s sobs softened into shaky breaths. Once Sunoo calmed, Emrad pulled back slightly, gently wiping away his tears.

With a quiet smile, Emrad vanished from Sunoo’s side and reappeared on the chair across from him, watching him with an inscrutable gaze, as though waiting for Sunoo’s next words.

Sunoo’s voice trembled as he spoke, his words heavy with despair. “What I’ve gone through... I can’t call it living.”

Emrad’s frown deepened, a shadow of sorrow passing over his features. “I understand,” he said softly.

The weight of those simple words made Sunoo’s chest tighten. He could feel the regret radiating from Emrad as the hooded figure lowered his gaze.

“I’m truly sorry, child,” Emrad said, his voice laced with genuine remorse.

Sunoo blinked, startled by the apology. “W-why?” he stammered.

“The Gods have spoken to me,” Emrad replied, his tone measured yet heavy with inevitability. “They have granted you a chance... whether you like it or not.”

A chill ran down Sunoo’s spine. “W-wait a second,” he stuttered, his voice rising in panic. “Are you making me relive the hell that I’ve desperately stopped?”

Emrad’s expression remained solemn, but his voice softened with sympathy. “I’m sorry, but the Gods must have a reason.”

“What reason?!” Sunoo cried, his voice breaking. “I just wanted to be at peace. Please, don’t do it.”

Desperation overcame him, and Sunoo sprang to his feet. His legs buckled as he dropped to his knees, his hands clasped together in a plea. “Please,” he begged, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t make me go back. Don’t make me endure it again.”

Emrad stepped forward, kneeling before Sunoo. His hands reached out, gently clasping Sunoo’s trembling ones. Their eyes met—Sunoo’s filled with anguish, Emrad’s with a deep, quiet resolve.

“Hear this, dear child,” Emrad said, his voice firm yet soothing. “I will leave you a parting gift.”

“A... parting gift?” Sunoo whispered, his voice barely audible.

Emrad nodded, his gaze steady. “Remember these words: You will only relive the pain you endured if you take the same path.

Sunoo’s lips parted as if to protest, but before he could utter another word, Emrad raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

The world around them blurred and darkened. Sunoo’s eyelids grew impossibly heavy, and he fell forward into an enveloping abyss of sleep.

The last thing he saw was Emrad’s enigmatic smile, and the last thing he heard was the faint echo of his words, lingering like a thread of hope in the darkness.


A distant voice called out, piercing through the haze of Sunoo’s exhaustion.

“Sunoo!”

The sound was familiar, yet faint, and Sunoo was too drained to fully rouse himself.

“Sunoo!”

This time, the urgency in the voice forced his eyes open. Groggy and disoriented, he sat up, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Something about the room felt oddly familiar, but as he glanced down at his hands and arms, an unsettling realization crept in—he felt different.

Suddenly, memories surged into his mind, sharp and vivid, like fragments of a life he had lived before. Overwhelmed, Sunoo clutched his head as nausea overtook him. He stumbled toward the bathroom, barely making it before he began to vomit.

Once the dizziness subsided, he gripped the sink for support and glanced up at the mirror. His breath caught in his throat.

He was young again.

The reflection staring back at him wasn’t the worn face he had grown accustomed to, etched with the fatigue of years of emotional turmoil. No, this was the face of his younger self—bright, untouched by the hardships he vividly remembered.

His heart raced as he recognized the room around him. This wasn’t some dream or illusion. He was back in his grandmother’s house in Suwon.

Sunoo stepped out of the bathroom, his mind racing, only to be greeted by the sight of his grandmother storming toward him, her face twisted in anger.

“What are you doing?!” Young-ok snapped, her voice sharp and cutting. “I told you to start helping at the market! Do you want to starve later?”

Sunoo froze, unable to comprehend the situation fully. “H-halmeoni?” he stammered, his voice trembling with disbelief.

His grandmother frowned at him, muttering under her breath as she turned to leave. “What’s wrong with that lazy kid? You’d better not complain if you starve later!”

The door slammed behind her, leaving Sunoo standing in stunned silence. He shuffled back to his room and sat heavily on the bed, his mind reeling as he pieced together what was happening.

The memories came back in vivid flashes—the unbearable pain, the suffocating isolation, the decision to finally let go. He remembered the hospital room, the hum of the machines keeping him alive, and the moment he turned them off. He had wanted nothing more than to escape the torment of his life.

And yet, here he was. Young again. Alive.

A phrase echoed in his mind, faint at first but growing louder with each repetition: You will only relive the pain you endured if you take the same path.

The words felt significant, though he couldn’t recall who had spoken them. They seemed tied to his current reality, a cryptic warning or perhaps an opportunity.

He needed to know if this was real. Out of habit, he reached for a blade he kept hidden, a small and familiar object from his old life. He hesitated for a moment before pressing it against his skin, making a shallow cut on his arm. Pain shot through him, and a thin line of blood appeared.

It wasn’t a dream.

The weight of the situation sank in, heavy and unrelenting. This was real. Somehow, he had been given another chance—an opportunity to rewrite his life. But what could he do differently?

The phrase replayed in his mind, this time with greater clarity. He understood its meaning now.

To avoid reliving the pain, there was one path he had to avoid at all costs.

He shouldn't become an idol.

Notes:

And that's officially the end of the first arc! It'll take some time for me to write the second arc, but I have everything planned already, so please stay tuned!
Happy holidays everyone!

You can send me a message here