sikyulioness

[sikyulioness]

Too Late for Regret – Part 9: The Smile Before the Execution

---

POV: Reader (You)

---

He looks so hopeful.

So ruined.

But still hopeful.

That I might reach out. That my silence might thaw. That the pain I wear like armor might give way.

It doesn’t.

I look at him.

And I smile.

A soft, beautiful smile. The kind I used to give him in the mornings, back when his name tasted like forever.

His eyes flicker—just for a second.

Like he thinks that smile means salvation.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part.

---

I step closer. The snow crunches beneath my boots.

He doesn't move.

Not away.

Not toward me.

Just still. Waiting. Trusting. Foolish.

I tilt my head slightly, voice barely louder than a breath.

> “Then die, Jinwoo.”

He freezes.

> “Because I don’t have a use for you anymore.”

---

There it is.

The way his soul fractures across his face.

Slow. Sharp. Quiet.

His breath leaves him in a shudder. Not from the cold.

From me.

I keep going. Because if I stop now, I’ll fall apart.

> “You already killed the part of me that loved you.”

> “What’s left is just… aftermath.”

His hands curl slightly at his sides.

He says nothing.

Not at first.

And then—

> “If that’s what you need to say to survive,” he says hoarsely, “I’ll take it.”

---

Why does that hurt?

Why does it hurt?

I wrap my arms around myself, the wind biting against my skin, and I glare at him like it’s his fault I’m cold.

Like it wasn’t me who burned everything down just now.

> “I needed you,” I whisper. “And you weren’t there.”

> “Now I don’t need anyone.”

He nods, slow and broken.

> “But I still need you.”

---

The silence cracks again.

But this time, I’m the one who steps back.

I can’t look at him anymore.

Not because I hate him.

But because I might still love him.

And I hate that worse.

---

I turn around and keep walking.

And this time, he doesn’t follow right away.

Because this time, he understands:

I’m not running.

I’m leaving.

Let me know.

---

[sikyulioness]

___

Too Late for Regret – Part 8: If You Knew What It Cost Me

POV: Reader (You)

___

He’s still there.

Still trailing behind, like a ghost tied to my shadow.

Always close enough to see me.

Never close enough to touch.

But tonight... I stop walking.

And I don’t know why.

Maybe I’m tired of running.

Maybe I just want to hurt him back.

He stands a few steps away, waiting like he always does.

His breath is uneven. His face unreadable.

I speak first—sharper than the wind.

“How does it feel,” I ask, “to be in another woman’s arms… knowing you’ll never be in mine again?”

The words tear out of me. I don’t even flinch.

But he does.

His jaw clenches. And then, slowly, he speaks.

“It felt… empty,” he says. “Even when I didn’t know why.”

I scoff. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” he says. “That’s why I’m here.”

He takes one step forward, eyes heavy, voice low.

“Because being with her… being anywhere without you—it never stopped feeling wrong.”

I laugh bitterly.

“You chose her, Jinwoo. You didn’t trip and fall into her arms. You stood at the fork and walked away from me without a word.”

“I know,” he says. “And I hate myself for it.”

His words hang in the air. I hate how honest they sound.

“I was scared,” he finally admits. “Of what I was becoming. Of dragging you into it.”

“Don’t give me that ‘for your own good’ excuse,” I bite.

“It wasn’t an excuse.” His voice cracks. “It was a mistake.”

He steps closer—but still doesn’t reach for me.

“I didn’t leave you for Cha Hae-In. I left because I thought I had to protect you from what I’d become.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

His silence is the loudest answer of all.

“You didn’t even try,” I whisper. “I waited. I broke in silence. And you were just… gone.”

“Because I thought you’d be better without me,” he says. “But all I did was take the choice away from you.”

His eyes glisten—but no tears fall.

Not yet.

“And now you think what?” I say. “That following me around like some tragic puppy will make it all okay?”

“No,” he breathes. “I just want you to know the truth before you decide if I deserve to stay.”

“You don’t,” I say flatly. “You don’t deserve any part of me.”

I see it. The flicker of pain behind his calm.

Good.

But still... he doesn’t walk away.

“I know,” he whispers. “But I’m staying anyway. Not because I deserve you—but because you deserved someone who never would’ve made you feel like this.”

“And if I can’t be that person… then I’ll carry the weight of what I did until I die.”

I stare at him.

This broken, haunted version of the man I once loved more than air.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t beg.

Just stands there.

Letting the silence settle between us like ash after a fire.

And for the first time…

I wonder if maybe he's finally feeling what I felt every day he was gone.

___

[sikyulioness]

---

Too Late for Regret – Part 7: If He Means It

POV: Reader (You)

Theme: Reflection, bitterness, conflicted thoughts, and the first crack in the walls you've built.

---

He’s still following me.

I thought he would’ve stopped by now.

Most people do.

They apologize once. Maybe twice. And when forgiveness doesn't come easily, they vanish. Swallowed by guilt or pride.

But not him.

Sung Jinwoo has said nothing since I turned away from him in that cathedral.

He just... follows.

Not close.

Not far.

Just enough that I always feel him at my back.

And I hate that a part of me notices.

---

The fire I built last night is still smoldering.

I sit alone, knees to my chest, staring into the dying coals like they’ll give me answers I haven't found in years.

He’s not sleeping. I can feel it.

He never does when he’s afraid I’ll disappear again.

And that knowledge shouldn’t mean anything.

But it does.

God, it does.

---

I remember the day I found out about him and her.

The curve of Cha Hae-In’s smile.

The guilt in Jinwoo’s eyes when he wouldn’t look at me.

I remember thinking: If he’s happy, then it’s fine.

But it wasn’t fine.

Because he didn’t choose her out of love.

He chose her because it was easier.

Because I didn’t demand. I didn’t cry. I didn’t fight for a place in his life.

And he let me slip away.

Just like everyone else.

---

But now?

Now he follows every step like it’s the last thread holding him together.

And he hasn't tried to touch me.

He hasn't begged.

He hasn’t said the words “forgive me” since that day.

He just watches. Waits.

Like he knows he’s no longer entitled to softness.

It should make this easier.

But it doesn't.

Because if he had chased me with desperation, I would’ve walked faster.

If he had sobbed, screamed, fallen to his knees—I would’ve turned my back harder.

But he’s just… there.

Unmoving.

Unyielding.

Quiet.

---

And that silence is louder than any apology.

Because silence means he's not here to make himself feel better.

He’s here to hurt.

Like I did.

Like I still do.

---

I glance over my shoulder once.

He doesn't react.

He just stands at the edge of the ruined path, hood down, shadows flickering quietly around his feet.

Eyes on me.

Not pleading.

Not demanding.

Just waiting.

And I wonder—

> Does he mean it?

If I push him again, will he leave?

If I scream at him to go, will he vanish?

If I break again—

Will he stay this time?

---

I look back at the fire, jaw clenched.

I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive him.

But I’m starting to wonder if he’s willing to survive my silence to earn it.

And that scares me more than the betrayal ever did.

---

[sikyulioness]

---

Too Late for Regret – Part 6: Until You Let Me In

POV: Sung Jinwoo

---

You didn’t tell me to follow.

You didn’t tell me to leave, either.

You just walked—eyes forward, back straight, like the weight of your past was heavier than any monster we’d ever fought.

And I followed.

Not out of desperation.

Not to force something that died.

But because you were the only thing I ever should’ve chosen.

---

Hours passed.

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t stop.

And still, I walked a few paces behind you—never too close. Never demanding. Just there.

Like a shadow that refused to disappear.

I saw you glance back once.

Not out of softness.

Not curiosity.

You just wanted to make sure I was still there.

And when you saw me—you didn’t say a word.

But you didn’t tell me to go either.

That was enough.

---

We made camp that night beneath the cracked shell of a forgotten watchtower. You built a fire without a word. You didn’t ask for help, and I didn’t offer.

Not yet.

You sat down across from the flames, arms tucked over your knees, eyes lost in the crackle of orange light. Like you were somewhere far away. Somewhere before I ever hurt you.

And I wanted to speak.

God, I wanted to speak.

But your silence wasn’t emptiness.

It was armor.

And I’d shattered you once already.

This time, I’d wait.

This time, I’d earn my place.

---

I stayed awake the whole night. Not because I feared monsters.

Because the moment you let me near you again, I wanted to be ready.

I remembered what you said:

> “You didn’t care if you hurt me. You just hoped I’d stay.”

Not this time.

If you tell me to leave—I will.

But until then?

I’ll be here.

Every day. Every scar. Every silence.

Until the fire in your eyes returns.

Even if it never looks at me the same way again.

---

[sikyulioness]

Wow I might discontinue too late for regret But it's just a might because of my phone being a dumb ahh that won't work

Fun fact: I made this cause of my bread falling and I regretted it

_______

[sikyulioness]

---

Too Late for Regret – Part 5:

POV: Sung Jinwoo

---

You turned your back on me.

Your footsteps echoed in the broken cathedral, fading fast.

And for a single second—just one—I froze.

Because the version of you that used to smile at me? Laugh quietly when I was awkward? Patch me up after I’d bled too much?

She was gone.

I killed her.

But I wasn’t going to lose what was left.

Not without a fight.

---

“Y/N—wait,” I said, but you didn’t stop.

You didn’t even flinch.

I moved.

Faster than I’ve moved in months.

A blur of shadow as I caught up, stepping in front of you with one hand raised—not to block you, not to force you, just... to make you see me.

You looked up at me, cold and unmoved. The person I used to know would’ve softened.

But your eyes?

They were steel.

> “Move.”

Two letters. Sharper than any dagger.

> “I can’t,” I said, voice quiet. “Not until you hear me.”

You didn’t answer, just tried to step around me.

I moved again—gentle, but firm. Shadows curling around me like instinct, but I kept them close. I wasn’t here to threaten. I was here to stay.

> “You don’t owe me a thing,” I said. “I know that. I know I chose wrong. That I stayed silent when I should’ve fought for you.”

You didn’t speak.

But I saw your fingers twitch.

Somewhere in you, I hoped—prayed—you were listening.

> “But I remember every second you stood beside me. I remember the way you looked at me when I didn’t believe in myself. And I remember the second I saw that look fade.”

You shifted your gaze slightly.

> “I thought I was protecting you by letting you go. But all I did was destroy the only person who truly loved me for who I was.”

And then, softly—just loud enough for only you to hear—

> “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m asking you to let me try.”

Silence.

A gust of wind stirred dust through the ruin. My heart pounded louder than any gate I’d ever faced.

You stared at me—no softness, no warmth. Just exhaustion. Years of pain etched into your eyes.

And then you walked around me.

Didn’t look back.

Didn’t speak.

But you didn’t vanish.

You let me follow.

And I will.

Every step.

Every mile.

Every shard of your broken heart—

Until you decide if I'm worth letting in again.

---

[sikyulioness]

---

Too Late for Regret – Part 4:

POV: Reader (You)

Theme: Confrontation. Detachment. No closure—just truth.

---

You knew he’d come eventually.

It was only a matter of time before his shadows found your trail, before his regret turned desperate enough to hunt you down in person.

So when he walked into the abandoned ruins where you’d been resting, you didn’t flinch.

Didn’t rise to meet him.

Didn’t brace yourself.

You just stood there, back turned, feeling the shift in the air as his presence filled the space like thunder waiting to crack.

He hesitated behind you, like your silence might swallow him whole.

“…Y/N.”

You turned.

Slowly. Calmly. Like the sound of your name no longer meant anything.

Because it didn’t.

Not from him.

Not anymore.

His eyes searched your face—guilt in every breath, shadows flickering at his heels like they couldn’t decide whether to pull him away or push him forward.

But your expression was unreadable.

Cold.

Dead.

“I finally found you,” he said, like that counted for something.

And then—still calm, still emotionless—you said it.

“How does it feel to be in another woman’s arms?”

His mouth opened slightly, stunned silent. Like he wasn’t expecting that to be the first wound you threw.

Good.

Let it bleed.

“Did she feel warm?” you asked, tilting your head just slightly, your voice flat. “Did she comfort you? Did she make you forget the person who was right in front of you?”

“I… I made a mistake.”

You smiled, but there was no joy in it.

“No, Jinwoo. You made a choice.”

He looked like he wanted to reach for you—but the space between you had grown into a chasm neither of you could cross anymore.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t care if you did,” you said, cutting through the air. “You just hoped I’d stay. Silent. Waiting.”

You stepped forward, just enough for your shadow to brush his boots.

“But I left.”

The weight of it hit him harder than a blade.

“And I didn’t look back. Because people who choose others while I’m still standing beside them—don’t deserve to see my back.”

He took a shaky breath. “I’ve been searching for you ever since.”

“And what would you have done if I was still broken when you found me? Offered guilt instead of love?”

That shut him up.

You let the silence do the rest.

Then, finally, you turned from him again—slow, final.

“You lost me the moment you chose her.”

And this time…

You meant it.

---

[sikyulioness]

Hahaha its finally summer I can post the things I made hahaha part 1 and part 3 is already out and this story is already completed just me posting this stuff the only thing stopping me for you to read it.

Hope you enjoy this short series 💗

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[sikyulioness]

---

Too Late for Regret – Part 3

POV: Reader (You)

Theme: Hiding, healing, hardening. You became unreachable.

---

You didn't cry when you left.

You thought you might. Thought it would hit in waves. But instead, it was silent.

Clean.

Cold.

Like you’d already mourned everything before your feet even crossed the threshold.

You left the letter on the table, folded once. No dramatic goodbye. No desperate pleas. Just the truth he never asked for.

And then, you vanished.

---

The first few nights, you barely slept.

Every shadow made you wonder if it was him.

Every gust of wind felt like a presence brushing past.

You hated it.

You hated how your heart still jumped at the thought of his voice.

You hated how even after everything, part of you wanted him to come.

But he didn’t.

Not for days.

Not for weeks.

So you stopped waiting.

---

You cut off your number. Deleted your social media. Blocked everyone who knew your name.

You even moved cities.

Then countries.

No one would find you—not unless you wanted them to.

You took contracts under false names, hunted dungeons no one else dared touch. Your hands grew calloused. Your magic grew colder.

You trained until your body ached, until your memories dulled, until he stopped showing up in your dreams.

And when the rumors started—when people whispered of a Monarch tearing through cities like he was chasing ghosts—you didn't flinch.

You just smiled.

A cruel, bitter smile that you’d never worn before.

So he finally noticed I’m gone.

---

You heard the way his name came up.

They said he was quiet.

Restless.

Eyes always searching the crowd.

They said he looked tired, thinner. Like he’d forgotten how to be a person.

Like he was losing.

You wondered if that made you heartless—for feeling nothing when you heard it.

Because you didn’t miss him.

You missed who he could’ve been.

You missed the version of him that chose you.

But that person never existed.

So you let him chase shadows.

You let him unravel.

Because you weren’t the girl he lost.

You were someone else now.

And he?

He was just too late.

---

[sikyulioness]

---

Too Late for Regret – Part 2

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader (Angst, Desperation, Regret)

---

> “If you ever feel a chill in your shadow, Jinwoo… that’s just me finally letting go.”

The letter slipped from his hand.

It hit the floor soundlessly, but the weight of its words echoed louder than any battlefield roar.

His legs gave out, knees hitting the dusty floor of your apartment. The picture frame on the table—cracked, broken. The one of you and him from so long ago. You’d smiled like you didn’t know heartbreak was coming.

He thought he had time. Thought you’d always be there, even if it hurt.

But this?

This was final.

---

“She’s gone?” Jinah whispered when he called. “Wait—what do you mean gone?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

He’d searched through everything—your apartment, your records, even your old dungeon logs. But your trail ended abruptly. Like you’d cut yourself from the world completely.

And maybe you had.

---

The next day, the search began.

At first, it was just his shadows. Quiet sweeps through the city. Routine.

But routine became obsession.

Jinwoo pulled every favor. Questioned every Guild Master. Called in debts from nations. Sent Beru and Igris through every known portal outside Korea. They didn’t rest.

Neither did he.

Sometimes there were rumors—an anonymous hunter soloing B-Rank dungeons without a license. A figure in black armor walking out of a gate soaked in blood, not speaking a word. Some even said this hunter vanished into the shadows after clearing the field.

Jinwoo chased every one.

Only to find silence waiting on the other side.

---

He sat alone one night, hands bloodied from tearing through yet another false lead. The wind blew cold through the broken windows of an abandoned hideout where you might’ve once passed through.

He stared at the wall and whispered your name.

Nothing answered.

Not even an echo.

And that’s when it hit him:

You hadn’t just run away.

You’d erased yourself.

From the world.

From him.

---

“She left because of me,” he said aloud one night, knuckles white.

Beru knelt beside him, quiet.

“Then we must find her, my king.”

But even his most loyal shadow looked uncertain.

Because some people don’t want to be found.

And worse—some people can’t be saved when they no longer want to be.

---

Still, he searched.

Not because he believed you’d forgive him.

But because he needed to see for himself:

What had become of the girl he shattered.

And whether there was anything left of her to bring home.

---

[sikyulioness]

“Too Late for Regret”

----

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader (Angst, Betrayal, Regret)

Theme: He chose her. You broke.

(part 1)

---

You always knew Jinwoo was drawn to Cha Hae-In. Maybe it was the way she stood by him in battles, or the quiet strength in her eyes that mirrored his own. But even knowing didn’t prepare you for the day he chose her—over you.

You had been there since the beginning.

When he was weak, you supported him. When he was feared, you defended him. When he lost everything, you were his anchor. You loved him in silence, and he—he leaned on you, trusted you, smiled like you were his safe place. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he shattered it all with one sentence.

“She makes me feel… alive again. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

He didn’t look you in the eye when he said it.

You nodded. Because what else could you do? Cry? Scream? Beg?

No. You smiled, small and broken, and whispered, “Then I hope she never makes you feel like dying.”

You walked away. From him. From everything. You erased your presence from the Guild, from the world, from his life.

And something inside you died.

---

He didn’t notice at first. You were just "busy," or "resting." But weeks turned to months. And then—your name stopped appearing on comms. Hunters whispered that you’d turned rogue. That you’d faced a dungeon alone and never returned. That you stood on the edge of a gate, staring into the void like it had answers you needed.

And Jinwoo began to feel it. That hollow space where your warmth used to be.

He tried to convince himself it was fine. You’d come back. You always did. You were resilient.

Until he found your apartment—silent, stripped of color, the plants dead, the framed photo of you and him cracked down the middle. A letter tucked beneath it, never sent, never meant to be read. But he read it.

> “You once told me I was your reason to keep going. Funny how you forgot that the moment you found someone shinier to love. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to hate her. But mostly, I hated myself—for believing I was irreplaceable.”

> “If you ever feel a chill in your shadow, Jinwoo... that’s just me finally letting go.”

He stood frozen, letter shaking in his hand. The apartment reeked of despair. Of a presence so heavy it dragged at the soul.

He searched for you. Turned the world upside down. He’d tear open gates just to chase rumors of your name. Shadow Soldiers were deployed like desperate fingers trying to grasp at the smoke you left behind.

But you were gone.

You hadn’t died. You’d simply disappeared—from the world, and from him.

---

He saw Cha Hae-In’s smile and remembered how yours used to reach your eyes. He heard her laughter and thought of the quiet way you used to giggle behind your hand. He watched her fight and ached for the way you fought—for him, not for glory.

He’d chosen her.

But it was you he mourned.

Now, in every silence, he hears your voice. In every shadow, he wonders if it’s you, watching, hurting, waiting for an apology that came too late.

Jinwoo, the Monarch of Shadows, feared nothing.

Except the day you’d never come back.

---

“I made a mistake, Y/N…”

“Please… come back. Even if you hate me now.”

But the void never answers.

And regret is the cruelest shadow of all.

---

[sikyulioness]

So I have seen the votes and the winner is

"If only you knew"

yayyayayaya🥳

I'll be doing pt2 stay tuned. ✊🏻

___

[sikyulioness]

Could you do one that's reader and Ashborn, something that's kinda fluff. Where like, reader introduces Ashborn to positive physical interaction. (He's been through so much I just want to hug him! 😭)

Aww that's so cute 🥺

______. ._______

A Touch of Light

Ashborn was not accustomed to touch.

In his long existence, hands had only ever reached for him in violence. Grasping, tearing, demanding—always seeking power, never offering warmth. Even before he became the Shadow Monarch, before the heavens cast him down, he had been a god of destruction. Untouchable. Distant. Alone.

And yet, there you were.

A mere human, standing before him without fear. Your presence was as soft as the wind that passed through the ruins where he often lingered, a place long abandoned by time. You were nothing like the beings he had known before. You were not made of divinity, nor of monstrous power. And yet, somehow, you unsettled him more than any warrior ever had.

It started small.

The first time you touched him, it had been an accident—your fingertips brushing against the edge of his armored gauntlet as you reached for something beside him. He had gone rigid, shadows curling instinctively around him like a beast prepared to strike. But you had only blinked at him, unafraid.

"You’re colder than I expected," you murmured.

He did not respond. What was there to say? He had not known warmth in centuries.

The second time, it was intentional.

You had found him sitting beneath the remnants of an ancient tree, its branches long dead but still standing. He often stayed there, watching the sky, lost in thoughts that spanned eternity.

"You look tired," you said.

He did not answer. A god does not grow weary. But something in the way you frowned at him made his chest feel... heavy.

Before he could react, you reached out, resting your palm against his forearm. Not in battle. Not in reverence. Just touch—gentle, warm, grounding.

He did not move.

No one had ever touched him like that.

"You’re really cold," you murmured again, rubbing his arm absentmindedly, as if trying to bring warmth to something long since frozen. "Does it hurt?"

He stared at you. The question made no sense. Pain was an old companion, one he had long since stopped acknowledging. But this? This strange, unfamiliar warmth spreading through him? He did not know what to make of it.

And yet, he did not pull away.

Over time, it became a pattern.

Small, fleeting touches. A hand brushing against his when you handed him something. The press of your palm against his back as you walked beside him. One time, you had even reached up, brushing stray strands of his dark hair away from his face without a second thought.

He did not understand.

Why did you do these things?

Why did you not recoil from him, as all others had?

One night, as you both sat in silence beneath the ruined sky, he asked you.

"Why do you touch me?"

You tilted your head, as if the question itself was strange. "Because I want to."

He frowned. That was not an answer.

Seeing his confusion, you sighed and shifted closer, your knee brushing against his. "You’ve been alone for a long time, haven’t you?"

Alone.

The word settled over him like a weight. He had never considered it before. He had been beyond such things, beyond the need for companionship. Or so he had believed.

"You don’t have to be," you continued, voice softer now. "I don’t know what you’ve been through, Ashborn. But... you don’t always have to be untouchable."

Untouchable. That, too, had been a truth he had never questioned.

Until now.

Without thinking, he reached out.

It was awkward—hesitant, almost clumsy. His hand hovered near yours, unsure of how to proceed. He had wielded power beyond comprehension, had ended civilizations with a mere gesture. And yet, the simple act of reaching for your hand felt... foreign.

You noticed. Instead of waiting, you closed the distance yourself, intertwining your fingers with his.

Warmth.

A slow, quiet thing. Not the fire of battle, nor the blaze of destruction. Just warmth—steady, certain, human.

"You see?" You smiled at him, giving his hand a small squeeze. "Not so bad, right?"

Ashborn did not answer. He only stared at your joined hands, at the quiet miracle of it.

And for the first time in countless centuries, he felt something shift deep within him.

Something fragile.

Something warm.

---

The change was gradual.

At first, Ashborn remained still whenever you touched him, as if uncertain whether he should allow it. Then, slowly, he began to accept it. He no longer flinched when your fingers brushed his, nor did he tense when you leaned against him on colder nights.

But an embrace? That was different.

You never forced it, never pushed him beyond what he was ready for. But one evening, when exhaustion weighed heavy in your own limbs, you found yourself dozing off beside him, your head naturally resting against his shoulder.

He froze.

For a long moment, he did nothing.

Then, cautiously, he shifted—not away from you, but toward you. The movement was small, hesitant, but unmistakable. You felt the tension ease from his frame, the weight of his presence settling more comfortably against yours.

It was the first time he had ever let himself be held.

And it would not be the last.

---

One night, the stars burned bright, casting silver light upon the ruined world around you.

Ashborn stood beside you, watching the sky, silent as ever.

Then, without warning, he turned to face you fully.

You blinked up at him, surprised by the intensity of his gaze. "What is it?"

He did not answer.

Instead, he reached out—deliberately, purposefully—and cupped your cheek in his hand.

It was the first time he had ever touched you on his own.

His palm was cool against your skin, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they traced the curve of your jaw. It was as if he were memorizing the sensation, committing the warmth of you to memory.

You leaned into his touch instinctively, eyes softening. "Ashborn..."

His thumb brushed over your cheekbone. A quiet exhale left him, something close to wonder flickering in his expression.

"I did not know," he murmured, voice almost reverent.

"Did not know what?" you whispered.

"That touch could feel like this."

You covered his hand with your own, pressing his palm more firmly against your cheek. "And how does it feel?"

He hesitated, searching for the right words. Then, at last, he answered.

"Warm."

A slow smile spread across your face. "Good. Then we'll just have to make sure you get used to it."

And for the first time in centuries, the Shadow Monarch let himself believe in something other than war.

He let himself believe in your warmth.

___

The End

[sikyulioness]

Aaaa! I just read the one i requested! Thank you so much for writing it!! Also holy moley! Your so fast with writing!! I was shocked and delighted ay the unexpected speed!

Thanks again!

No Problem✨😄

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[sikyulioness]

I was wondering if it's ok for you to make part 2 of 'My Secret Saviour' where he finds out that female reader also have the power of a monarch as well but she's the Abyssal Monarch, her powers were energy manipulation and she's a grim reaper type who uses a sword that turns into a scythe :)

Ohhh yeah I was having an writers block thanks for the idea😄✨

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MY SECRET SAVIOR

Pt:2

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The battlefield was eerily silent.

Jinwoo stood among the wreckage, his black armor gleaming under the dim light of the ruined dungeon. His breath was steady, his body relaxed—but his mind was racing. The enemy had been strong, stronger than most. It had taken more effort than he expected, and yet, the unease in his chest wasn’t from the battle.

It was from her.

She stood just a few feet away, her hood no longer concealing her features. The woman who had once been a fleeting memory, then an ally, and now… something more. But her presence was different today. Stronger. Heavier.

Jinwoo’s sharp gaze didn’t miss the way the shadows coiled around her, reacting to her presence as if they were alive. He knew the power of a Monarch better than anyone. And yet, the energy that radiated from her felt… foreign.

She met his gaze, unreadable as ever, and then she spoke.

“You feel it, don’t you?”

Jinwoo didn’t respond immediately. He took a careful step forward, his instincts flaring. The power she held—it wasn’t human. It wasn’t even just a Hunter’s power. No, it was something much more ancient. Much more dangerous.

“You’re not just a Player,” he said finally, his voice low. “You never were.”

She let out a quiet laugh, the kind that sent shivers down his spine. “Neither were you.”

Jinwoo clenched his fists, watching her carefully. He had been given the power of a Monarch. But for her… it was different. She wasn’t chosen like he was. She was something else entirely. Something even the System had never warned him about.

“What are you?” he asked, though deep down, he already knew the answer.

Her eyes glowed with a deep, abyssal hue, darker than the void itself. And then, in one fluid motion, she raised her hand, summoning her weapon—a sleek black blade that shimmered with an otherworldly energy. But as she grasped the hilt, the sword shifted, the metal elongating, curving. Within seconds, the blade had transformed into a massive, elegantly deadly scythe, its edge glinting ominously.

Jinwoo’s breath hitched. He had seen many weapons, but nothing quite like this.

“I am the Abyssal Monarch,” she admitted, twirling the scythe with effortless grace. “The ruler of the void, the reaper of lost souls.”

Jinwoo could only stare as the realization settled in. The woman who had once saved his life—the woman he had spent years searching for—wasn’t just powerful. She was like him. A Monarch. And not just any Monarch.

She was Death itself.

The energy around them crackled as she took a step forward, closing the distance between them. “I was waiting for you to figure it out,” she said softly. “I wanted to see how long it would take.”

Jinwoo swallowed, his heartbeat steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “Would you have believed me?”

He couldn’t answer that. He didn’t know. But what he did know was that something had changed. This wasn’t just about old memories anymore. This was bigger.

Jinwoo took a deep breath. “So what happens now?”

She smiled, lifting her scythe onto her shoulder. “Now?” she echoed. “Now we fight.”

Jinwoo smirked, his shadow writhing beneath him, rising like a beast ready to devour. “To see who’s stronger?”

She nodded. “Only one Monarch can stand at the top.”

Lightning crackled between them as their auras clashed, the very fabric of space trembling under the weight of their power. Then, without another word, they lunged at each other, the battle for supremacy beginning with an earth-shattering clash.

_________

[sikyulioness]

Would you do one with Ashborn? Or do you only do ones with Jinwoo?

I do types of fandom actually 😄✨

If you want just ask me the theme that you want me to right.👌🏻

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