Lord of the Scorched

[Hello, dear readers.

The main story officially begins in Volume 2, while Volume 1 delves into the backstory. While it is entirely up to you if you'd like to skip Volume 1, I believe reading it will provide a deeper understanding and a richer experience as you progress.

I hope you enjoy the journey!]

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"Do you have a guardian with you?" the doctor asked, his voice soft but serious.

Eun-ha shook her head. "No."

"Are you really 19 years old?" he pressed, his gaze searching her face as if looking for something.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if the weight of the world had suddenly settled on her shoulders.

The doctor looked at her, his expression solemn. "Has anyone in your family ever had cancer?"

"No," she replied, her throat tight. She didn't understand why he was asking these questions, but she didn't have the energy to respond with anything other than the truth.

The doctor stared at her, his eyes lingering a little too long, as if he didn't know how to say what needed to be said. Finally, he spoke, his voice almost a whisper, as though he, too, was trying to make sense of it. "This is truly rare… A young girl like you, this isn't something that should happen."

Eun-ha felt a shudder ripple through her body. She didn't know what rare meant, or why he was saying it as though it mattered. All she could think about was the emptiness spreading inside her chest.

"Am I going to die?" she asked, her voice breaking as the question slipped out before she could stop it. She hadn't meant to ask. But she needed to know.

The doctor's expression softened, and he sighed, as though he had no choice but to say it. "Yes," he said quietly. "In six months. You're in the fourth stage of cancer"

The words hit her like a punch to the stomach. It felt as though her whole world had been shattered in an instant. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. She simply nodded, as if the reality of it had already sunk deep into her soul. I see.

Her mind, strangely detached, replayed the moment. In her quiet acceptance, she almost didn't feel anything.

"You need treatment," the doctor urged, but his words barely reached her.

She stood up slowly, her body feeling foreign, as if it wasn't hers anymore. "Doctor, thank you," she said, her voice steady but distant. "But I don't need any treatment."

The doctor's face shifted, confusion and concern mixing in his features. "But—"

She interrupted him, her tone firm, yet heavy with the weight of finality. "What's the point of therapy or treatment when I'm going to die anyway?" Her words felt like the last breath of someone who had finally accepted the truth. "There's something I've always wanted to do in my life. And now, I have no time to waste."

The doctor opened his mouth to say something, but Eun-ha didn't give him a chance. "I don't care," she said, her voice breaking just for a second before it steadied again. "Goodbye, doctor."

She turned away, her feet dragging with the slow, deliberate rhythm of someone who knew there was no going back. As she walked down the sterile hallway, the world around her seemed unreal, like it wasn't part of her story anymore.

Eun-ha thought, for the first time in years, about herself. About what she wanted, about what she had never allowed herself to dream of. I've spent so much of my life thinking I wasn't worth saving… Now, she would do something just for her. No one could stop her.

I should write a story, she thought, the idea so pure and simple. I should call myself 'author.'

She had always admired the anime I Want to Eat Your Pancreas, but never thought she'd end up like the main character. She had always wanted to live, to be loved, to be seen. The protagonist got to live her final moments surrounded by love,"until she was killed by some random piece of shit"(Eun-ha though). but here Eun-ha was, abandoned, just another forgotten soul.

She wasn't the main character. She never would be. She was just a side character, destined to fade into the background.

But it didn't matter anymore.

It's my story now, she realized with a strange, painful peace. Even if I only have a few months left, I'll write it. I'll write until the very end.

Eun-ha stepped outside the hospital, the cool air wrapping around her like a blanket. The sky above was impossibly blue, so pure and vast. She looked up, her heart feeling a strange, bittersweet flutter. It was beautiful—so beautiful that for a moment, she almost forgot the weight of what was coming.

Today, the sky is truly beautiful.

For the first time in years, Eun-ha felt free. Even if she was dying, even if she never got the chance to finish what she started, she could do this one thing—for herself.

And for once, there was no regret.

---

The house was silent, save for the distant hum of a piano from the living room. Eun-ha sat at her desk, the soft glow of her lamp casting long shadows on the pages in front of her. She ran her fingers across the open book, but the words blurred before her eyes, her mind elsewhere. She could hear her mother's voice in the other room, excitedly talking to a family friend about Min-joo's latest accomplishments. But it wasn't that that caught Eun-ha's attention—it was the topic that had been raised yet again.

"So, Eun-ha's marriage... It's about time we find someone for her, don't you think?" Her mother's voice was light, matter-of-fact, as if Eun-ha's future were already decided without her input.

Eun-ha's hand paused over the pages of her book, her chest tightening at the words she had heard so many times before. At 19, she was already considered past the age for "settling down" in her mother's eyes. She was invisible in every way except for her marriage prospects. No one cared that she had dreams, no one cared that she wanted more for herself. The only thing that mattered was whether or not she was "suitable" for a good match.

A heavy sigh escaped her as she stared at the blank page before her, her pen poised but unmoving. It felt like her entire existence was measured by what she lacked—what others had, but she didn't. Min-joo had always been the golden child, the one who excelled effortlessly, while Eun-ha was the background, overlooked and unremarkable. But even worse was that, in her family's eyes, her greatest achievement would be the day she was married off to someone they deemed worthy.

The dream of being an author, of having her voice heard through the pages she longed to fill, seemed like an impossible fantasy—one that would never be given the space to grow. She'd tried before, tried to speak up, tried to show that she was more than just a name on a family registry, more than the daughter waiting for a marriage proposal. But each attempt had been drowned out by the noise of others—the praise for Min-joo, the expectations for Eun-ha to fulfill her role.

Her pen tapped against the page, each sound sharp in the quiet room. The ache in her chest grew heavier with each passing second. Why did no one see her? Why did no one ever ask what she wanted?

The door creaked open, and her mother's voice rang out, sharp and impatient. "Eun-ha, dinner's ready. You don't want it to get cold."

Eun-ha stood up slowly, her heart heavy with the weight of her own silence. As she walked out of her room, her mind raced with thoughts she could never voice. Would she ever be more than just the girl waiting for a proposal? Would anyone ever notice the dreams she buried so deep, the voice she never allowed to be heard?

But she already knew the answer. No one would.

She walked to the dining table, her footsteps soft, unnoticed. The silence in the house was the loudest thing of all.

She sat down at the table, the air thick with the sound of her father's praise for Min-joo. Eun-ha watched, her heart sinking with each word. Min-joo's two years younger than me, she thought bitterly. She looks just like Father, while I'm nothing like him. I'm like Mother, a shadow, a ghost. Maybe that's why they love her more than me.

Eun-ha's stomach churned as the weight of her invisibility pressed down on her, suffocating her from the inside. The world felt so heavy, so indifferent.

But then, something inside her snapped. Without thinking, she broke the silence. "I'm quitting school."

Her father stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing with disbelief. "Why?" he demanded, his voice sharp, like a blade.

Eun-ha's voice was steady, but it rang with the force of a truth she could no longer hide. "I want to be an author."

Her father's laughter rang out, harsh and mocking. "Do you honestly think you have the brain to write?"

Eun-ha's lips curled into a smirk, her eyes cold with fury. "Maybe I'm just like you," she said, her voice low and venomous. "A stupid, brainless fool who doesn't know his place."

Her mother's eyes widened in shock, as if she could hardly believe the words coming from her daughter's mouth.

But Eun-ha didn't care. She felt the weight of the years she had spent in silence, the years of being overlooked, ignored. She didn't want to be the side character anymore. It's better to be the villain, she thought, her heart pounding in her chest. At least the villain gets noticed.