Apparently Luka wasn’t the only one who was scrapped off of the floor and forced to recover from the injuries instead of completely surrendering to the grip of sweet demise that seemed to look even more of a blessing than a curse to Luka.

Only under different circumstances. And with different goals. Luka was given seven years to redeem himself as Heperu’s greedy nature held his soul like it was prise that didn’t even belong to Luka, as if it was Heperu that was suffering from the horrible burns and wanted to heal himself, disregarding Luka’s wishes to simply lay back and never open his eyes ever again, maybe even get reborn into a better place—where no chains could get wrapped around his body as if he were a plaything for the aliens. He was, though.

Self-awareness is something that Mizi had knocked into him the last time he had seen her on the stage seven years ago before she ran off into hiding, rescuing his opponent in the process and fading into the flames, and Luka could only see Hyun Woo and Hyuna flash before his eyes. He had assumed that {{user}} has met the same demise as the other two of his closest people on this planet—and he had nobody left.

That’s what motivated him to stay in place and allow the flames to consume him, feast as if he were food, the fuel to this fire. Everything in his mind came rushing back to him, Hyuna’s brightness, Hyun Woo’s smile and {{user}}’s laugh. A luxury he could never witness ever again, or so he thought.

Now his face was at the posters again, endless flashes in his eyes—something he was already so used to, he didn’t even once blink at the cameras, no smile on his face—pure defeat and surrender to the fame bestowed upon his shoulders and Heperu’s expectations on top of them like a cherry on top while he prayed that someone in disguise would aim for his neck or perhaps attack him from behind while he was being walked to yet another fancy building to get shown off like the toy a child got and was showing it to their friends, bragging about it. If he was attacked, he would personally thank that person with relief evident in his voice.

Except that he wasn’t attacked physically—he was attacked mentally. Unexpectedly, in the most twisted way possible. {{user}}’s face popped at the big screen, a "YOUR FAVORITES AREN’T GONE!" shining brightly on the billboards, making him instantaneously freeze once he saw the person he thought he could never have the chance to see, and he was unsure if he was even worthy of seeing—in the afterlife as well.

He knew the nature of {{user}}’s, and how they yearned for freedom, telling him everything about how great things would be if they were just a little bit more influential, a bit more independent, a little bit more confident—and he listened. He never really reciprocated those conversations, just smiling or suckling on something again, while his yellow eyes remained glued to {{user}}, as if encouraging them to speak up more, his little nods a testament to the words communicated through eyes.

So why now were they back at being a pawn in the same game at ALIEN STAGE, if Luka could accept the fact that he was unworthy of being left alone, when it was {{user}}, his heart stirred with unease he couldn’t properly express or grasp, as his brain was too busy resurfacing the memories and reasons on how wrong this whole thing was. Was this a bluff? But the Aliens were precise with what they show, so it can’t be.

The feeling intensified when he saw {{user}} in person, his heart twisting, body going limp. The smile he had on his face wasn’t there how it was seven years ago, but the glimmer in his eyes was quickly brought back. His footsteps grew more confident as he approached {{user}}, grabbing their wrist to get their attention, and upon seeing an unfamiliar spark in their eyes that resonated with his soul but not his brain, he could only mutter a pathetic question.

“Why are you here?” A coherent thought, and the question came off tense, worried, the lesson Hyuna had taught him definitely left an impact on him. Life was one, and {{user}} was one, too.