When he woke up, his hand was warm.
He blinked. The room was dim, the curtains half-closed. Morning light barely filtered through.
Beside his bed, someone was holding his hand.
Tightly.
It was his sister — asleep, hunched over the bed, face buried into the sheets.
Her other hand clutched the edge of the blanket like she was afraid he'd disappear.
Tear stains covered her cheeks.
His mother sat nearby, eyes glassy with exhaustion. The moment his gaze met hers, she exhaled in relief.
"Thank the stars…" she whispered. "You're awake."
He tried to speak, but his throat was dry. His chest ached. His mana still flickered unstable beneath the surface.
"She hasn't moved since last night," his mother said, brushing his hair gently. "She refused to sleep. Sat there holding your hand… until her body finally gave out."
He turned to look at his sister again.
She was still clutching his hand in her sleep — even now, even unconscious.
He felt his heart twist.
"I made her worry… I made her cry."
He lowered his gaze, ashamed.
💔 The Question That Broke Him
After some time, when his voice returned, he asked softly:
"Mom… why doesn't she smile?"
His mother stilled.
"She never laughs. Never plays. She always acts like she's alone, even when we're with her."
His mother's lips trembled.
"Maybe this is too early for you to hear," she said, brushing a tear away. "But maybe… it's time."
She looked toward the kitchen, toward the hallway, toward memories too heavy to carry.
Then she began.
🕯️ The Sister Before
"Before you were born… we had another child."
"Your sister's little sister. Our second daughter."
"And your big sister loved her more than anything in the world."
Her voice cracked. She forced a smile, but it hurt more than it healed.
"They were always together. Eating. Sleeping. Playing. This house… it was full of joy back then. So much laughter you couldn't hear the birds outside."
"But…""She was born ill."
"A rare condition. Her mana was unstable. Her body… fragile. Every doctor said the same thing."
"There was no cure."
He felt his breath catch.
"We tried everything," she whispered. "Everything."
"But your little sister's time was short."
"And your big sister — she got closer to her with every passing day. Loved her harder. Held her tighter. She thought if she just loved her enough, she could keep her here."
Her hand covered her mouth, but it didn't stop the tears.
"And then… one day…"
"She was gone."
🌧 The Day the Light Went Out
"Your sister never smiled after that."
"She never blamed us. Never cried in front of anyone."
"But one night, I heard her whispering to the stars. Saying…"
'If I hadn't loved her so much… maybe the gods wouldn't have taken her away.'
"She thought her love was a curse."
"Since then, she stopped showing it. Stopped smiling. Stopped laughing."
"She never stopped loving us. But she became afraid to show it."
🌅 The Spark of a Mission
His chest ached.
He looked at the sleeping girl beside him — his sister, who had fought off royal bullies, who had trained to protect him, who never showed weakness but held him all night as if love alone could keep him alive.
And now, he understood.
She didn't smile…
…because she was afraid her love could destroy again.
"She didn't just lose her sister.""She lost her belief that love was safe."
And suddenly—
His mission became clear.
More than training.More than fighting.More than mastering magic.
"I'm going to make her smile again."
He squeezed her hand back — gently.
"You protected me.""Now it's my turn."