Yuinimout

Synopsis 
He is a baseless existence impersonating as human, living three lives, each time learning to define his identity.

“But, why let the universe define who you are? If you believe in yourself, then you’ve always been the same person, no matter what. I can be the missing part of you. All you have to do is to make me yours.” 

As he stood before the man who had transformed his world, he wondered how fate could be so cruel to them both.

Story Summary:
Yu De, a young man with a lost past who struggled to make ends meet, was transmigrated into a game world where he had to follow every mission assigned by the system. He was told that his fate was destined to die for world progression, with the promise that he would be sent back to his real world after completion.

‘But honestly, who wants to go back to their life of poverty?’ 

Hence, he deviated from the scripted narrative and became entangled with the male lead in search of a way to end his life completely. 

However, after facing death, he found himself back to the beginning of the tutorial. With the system no longer present, he finally gained the freedom to live for himself.

(Angst, Multiple Timelines, Time travel, Transmigration, Psychological, Philosophical, Self Discovery, Self awareness, BL)

Return to You Who is Lost [BL]

In the middle of summer, a slouching figure hunched over, dragging his feet as he carried a heavy school bag through the slum.

Dilapidated houses and tangled wires hanging dangerously above led his way to a door. Despite the torn edges, covered with mould, the boy stepped into the warm, stifling house.

The air was dense and heavy, almost like a sauna. With no proper ventilation, it was suffocating. His eyes caught sight of a prepared meal placed on the coffee table, with a note underneath the bowl.

The food was more plentiful than usual. Instead of the basic meal of rice with pickled lettuce and roasted nuts, slices of Char Siu wrapped in red sauce replaced the canned food.

The unsettling difference urged the boy to read the note left behind.

'Yu De, Mama and Papa are having a difficult time. We don't think we will be coming back anytime soon. Please take good care of yourself, and remember, we always love you.'

His throat tightened, choking on the words of the note. With a sense of denial, he dropped it carelessly onto the floor. Picking up the metal chopsticks, he dug into his meal.

The chopsticks clanked restlessly against the bowl, repeatedly bringing slices of meat dipped in red sauce to his mouth, shovelling rice in with ruthless efficiency.

White grains, tainted by the bright artificial red sauce, fell messily across the table. Yet he continued to eat, and eat, until his lips were redder than the sauce.

Suddenly, he tasted something metallic. Pressing his lips with his finger, he noticed a mark of redness, but couldn't distinguish it from the shade of the sauce.

Licking his lips, the metallic taste grew stronger.

Standing up, he walked to the washroom to rinse his mouth. Facing the blurry reflection in the dirty mirror, he rubbed his lips with a tissue.

Pressing hard on his cracked lips, a drop of concentrated blood spread across the tissue.

Then, a wave of headache washed over him. It felt as if his head was being crushed, the numbing heat seeping through his body.

Placing his arm on his forehead to check his temperature, he realised his thirst demanded a glass of water.

Walking into the desolate kitchen, he fumbled through the drawers in search of a cup when he felt a different texture between the stacks of overused cloths.

Flipping the layers over, he found crumpled , damp, overdue bills and checks. Their ink smeared across the receipts, painting a clearer picture of what they were running away from.

With many scattered devices, phone numbers, records, and notes tucked into corners of the house, it was clear they had exhausted their resources—living double lives, owing different individuals money under various fake IDs—leaving them no choice but to abandon the last thing they tried to hold on to.

The cup in his hands couldn't be any colder.

Unprepared for the truth, he turned on the tap, filled the cup with water, and drank, walking away from the overturned kitchen full of evidence.

Sitting down on the sinking couch, he stared at the blank, outdated 90s TV screen. Taking a sip of water, instead of cooling him down, it only heated him up internally.

If this was their definition of unconditional love, or forgiveness, he had already returned the same sentiment.

After all, he was never their real son.

In the end, everyone had enjoyed their part in playing the family pretences.

Yohan: Story 1