“How’s school been for you?” Dad asked.

  “Fine.”

  “I see.” He took a sip from a small clay cup.

  We sat side by side on the front porch, our legs dangling over the edge. I held a small cup of my own, though I wasn’t thirsty.

  The night was especially dark today. It was mostly devoid of light, and maybe that’s why it was so quiet. The familiar sounds were gone: birds crying as they soared through the air, leaves rustling and twigs snapping as forest creatures wandered, bees buzzing as they hovered over flowers. All of it—gone.

  All that remained was the light above.

  The moon and stars, shining with their usual confidence. Some people find comfort in them. Even on nights like this, when the world around you is hidden, they shine down as if offering a blessing.

  I hate it.

  I hate how blind and helpless I become without their light. I despise the arrogance in how they shine—like they’re reminding me I’m nothing without them. I loathe how they never change. I think of Grandpa’s words, of how he found peace in them.

  But I only find grief.

  As the stars continue to glow in the night sky, unmoving through time, I look at what their light reveals. And every time, it’s the same: it’s me.

  I haven’t changed. Just like the stars.

  I’m still the same.

  “Look at the sky.”

  White specks scattered across the dark canvas of space, with streams of blue and purple weaving between the stars. A few shooting stars flashed by—brief, fleeting—gone in an instant.

  “It looks—” I paused, swallowing hard to keep the tears down. “It looks nice.”

  I really hoped Dad didn’t notice. I hate the way people look at you when you cry. That pitying gaze that hides a quiet sense of superiority. The silent assumption that they have to help you. That they’re above you. That I’m actually not okay. That I’m some depressed weirdo in need of saving.

  And that’s why we’re here. He’s going to give me a speech. Some heartfelt, recycled lines about how I belong, how I shouldn’t give up, how I’m loved.

  I’ve heard it all before.

  But it never helps. It never has. All it does is waste my time while padding that stupid therapist’s wallet.…….Therapist?

  Whatever. I’ll pretend it works. I’ll nod, smile, say “thank you.” If we get through this fast, I can crawl back into bed. I can sleep it off, return to my world.

  I have to return.

  I have to be fine.

  “Do you see that little red star?” Dad pointed high into the sky.

  I followed his finger. Past the sea of stars and hidden among the brighter lights, there it was. A solitary red star sat in the center of a circle of stars, yet none of them were close to it.

  Almost like they were avoiding it.

  “I see it.”

  Dad turned to me. “What do you think of that star?”

  So that’s his plan. He’s obviously about to use it as a metaphor for me.

  Whatever. I might as well play along.

  “It looks lonely.”

  He took another sip from his cup. “How do you think it feels, then?”

  How does it feel?

  Well, I feel like crap. My nose is running, I’m half-asleep, and I just want to go back to bed.

  But I can’t say that.

  I could say that stars don’t feel anything.

  But I’m five. I’m supposed to believe they do.

  Still, I am pretty smart for my age. Maybe I’d say something clever.

  No. Stop overthinking. Just go with it.

  “It feels sad.”

  “Is that it?” He raised an eyebrow.

  Seriously? “Um… maybe it feels angry.”

  “At who?”

  Everyone. “The other stars.”

  “Hmmm…” He took a longer sip.

  I really hope that’s water.

  “Why do you think the red star’s by itself?”

  “Probably because….. it’s weird.”

  “What’s weird about it?”

  “It’s red and small. All the other stars are bigger and brighter…..” I looked closer at it. Compared to the constellations, it felt so insignificant. Compared to the glowing white stars, it felt so dim. So….. irrelevant.

  “It probably wishes it had been born a normal white star.”

  Dad set down his cup, then pinched my cheek and waved his hand in front of me. “Beric, I want you to ignore all the other stars. Just focus on that red star. Don’t let your eyes wander to the brighter ones.”

  “…….Okay.” I locked my gaze on the red star. Every time I squirmed or blinked too long, Dad gently reminded me to keep looking.

  I didn’t get it. What was the point of staring at this one, dim star? Nothing was happening.

  Until something did happen.

  It was small—barely noticeable—but I caught it. A faint glimmer beside the red star. Slowly, it grew brighter, until I was certain it was another star. It sat to the left of the red one, and it looked just like all the other white stars.

  I turned to Dad. “What is this?”

  He just smiled. “Keep looking.”

  Like a ripple, more stars started appearing. First a few, glowing slowly brighter, then more and more, surrounding the red star like a protective wall. The empty circle around it began to fill, and that’s when I realized what I was seeing.

  A constellation.

  The shape took form as the stars kept appearing, revealing that the ‘circle’ wasn’t a circle at all. It was actually a shield, with the red star sitting right at its center. The red star wasn’t actually one. It was a part of something.

  More stars emerged beyond the shield, slowly forming the shape of a figure. A man, strong and upright, with white and golden stars woven through his outline.

  Dad wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close. Grinning, he pointed to the sky. “That’s Warrior, a constellation that only appears late at night.”

  Warrior stood tall in the darkness, lighting up the void that had swallowed everything before. More stars spiraled around him, like blessings from the heavens. With his shield raised, he looked ready—waiting for whatever dared to steal the light he now protected.

  “……..Awesome.” It was all I could manage. Way too lame for something this amazing.

  Maybe someone like……..Grandpa.

  He would’ve loved this. I wish he was here to see it.

  “You said the red star was lonely and weird.”

  Dad’s words pulled my eyes away from the sky and back to him. “The red star probably thought the same thing. That it was weird. That it was alone. That all the other stars avoided it.”

  He must’ve noticed the shift in my expression, because he gently patted my head. “But the red star was wrong.”

  Wrong? No. That’s exactly why it’s alone.

  “It made a crucial mistake,” Dad continued, “and in doing so, it forgot the most important thing.”

  “What mistake?”

  “It got so focused on the other stars……..on how far away they seemed, on how bright they were—that it lost sight of what was close. It became blind to everything else. It forgot the stars that were right beside it.”

  I looked back at the sky. Back at the red star. The stars that had always been around it.

  “Sometimes,” Dad said, “the other stars are so bright that the red star can’t help but focus on them. It forgets the big white stars that have always been there for it. It begins to hate why it’s different from the other stars, forgetting that this very color is what makes it so special. It forgets that it’s not alone. It forgets that it’s a star.”

  He raised his hand, gesturing across the night.“They’re all stars, Beric. Big or small. White or red or golden. Some shine brighter, some form constellations……. but even the ones that don’t, they still shine. They light up the dark. Thanks to them, even when the world is swallowed by night, we can still see. Even in our darkest days, when we feel lost or forgotten, all we have to do is look up. And as long as those stars keep shining, we can always find our way back. And you know what?” He smiled. “They always do.”

  No, that’s the problem. They only shine because that’s their only purpose. They don’t shine for any special reason, such as to guide others. It’s a primal instinct in them to shine, to continue existing.

  To live.

  And it’s precisely because of that, that they disillusion themselves into thinking that this act of shining is worth something.

  But, it’s not.

  What’s the point of some little red star that can barely shine? Why should it keep trying, when so many others do it better? What difference does it make? That red star isn’t strong, nor is it bright. It’s just there, because it doesn’t know what else to do. If stars could think, then that red one……. it would wonder why it even bothered. It would stop shining, just to see if anyone noticed.

  And when no one does……it’ll stop for good.

  It will vanish, swallowed by the night sky. It’ll be forgotten.

  This isn’t good. I’m making it worse.

  Such a pitiful little star.

  Don’t answer it.

  If only it was born differently. If only it wasn’t such a wimp. If only it stopped running away.

  I’m not trying to run away.

  Really?

  The Corrupted Voice made a noise, a glitched version of what I could only describe as a laugh.

  This whole situation is just you running away! You couldn’t handle the fact that you were a socially awkward loser back on Earth, so the moment you got the chance, you made a deal with Death. And for what? Was it really worth it? Was trading your soul for eternal servitude as the next Death worth the slim chance at a better life? What now? Have you actually changed since then? Have you really become any better?

  ……I tried-

  You tried? Was the time when you allowed both Arthur and Elaine to be attacked by bees you trying? Or was it the time when you stared at Merrol dead in her eyes as she called you a good brother? Or is it the countless times you killed innocent animals for no other reason than becoming stronger?

  No, that’s not-

  This entire situation could’ve been avoided if you laid low at school. But, no, you couldn’t do that. Beric, the egotistical pariah, made sure that he stood out. He did everything in his power to let the class know just how big of a genius he is.

  Stolen story; please report.

  ………

  You haven’t changed. You’re still that annoying loser who so foolishly believes that he deserves the love and attention of everyone. And you don’t even want to accept that. You’re still living as a two-faced hypocrite.

  Disgusting.

  “Beric?” Dad’s voice was gentle, worried.

  I hadn’t spoken in a while. I felt like a turtle, hiding my face behind my knees and arms. At least turtles were somewhat interesting.

  “Dad, that red star……”

  “Yes?” he said, softly ruffling my hair.

  “Why does it even try?”

  His hand slowed.

  “If it’s that small, and all the other stars are so much bigger, then…… is there really any point? Couldn’t a brighter, stronger star just take its place? Does that red star even matter?” Dad’s hand fell still, limp like a rope.

  You keep doing it.

  I know.

  Attention-seeking like always. Does it not get tiring? Do you not even feel ashamed?

  I’m sorry.

  Are you stupid? Why are you even saying all of this aloud? Why would a five year old kid have these kinds of thoughts? Are you trying to make Lucian weirded out?

  What will it take for you to be normal?

  I don’t know.

  “If you ask me, I’d say that star does matter.”

  I slowly raised my head.

  Dad was looking at the red star with a fond smile. “It’s more beautiful like this. It wouldn’t be the same if it were one of those other stars.”

  An idiotic smile creeped on my face. That’s it? That’s why it matters? Because it’s pretty? How stupid.

  I lowered my head again. Is that the red star’s only purpose? In that case, what would happen when people start calling it ugly? What would happen when it realizes it no longer has a purpose?

  “I still think the red star’s weird. It’s just going to keep focusing on the wrong things, and eventually, it’ll drive the other stars away. It’s dumb like that.”

  Dad’s voice softened. “If so, the nearby stars will help it. They’ll shine as brightly as they can, so the little red star can remember what’s important.”

  I frowned. “What if that’s not enough? What if the red star never gets it? What if…….the other stars give up?”

  Dad went silent.

  It happened again. I messed up. I should’ve just stayed quiet. Why do I keep say-

  “They never will. The nearby stars will never stop shining. They’ll always be there for it.”

  “Why? What’s so important about this red star? Why do they care so much?”

  Dad turned to me, his expression gentle but firm. “Because we love you.”

  I froze.

  The man I knew as Lucian was quiet, reserved. He never raised his voice around the family. He worked hard in the lumberyard, doing his best to provide for us and help out the village. Anyone might mistake his silent demeanor for anger, but that wasn’t the truth. He simply wasn’t good at expressing himself.

  But this wasn’t like that.

  Dad’s face was gentle, tender. I could see the wrinkles around his eyes and a small trace of wood dust on his cheek. His black hair fell just below his ears, his bangs brushing above his eyes, allowing his kind, chestnut eyes to look directly into mine. This wasn’t the face of a socially awkward lumberjack.

  This was the face of a father.

  I looked down. “.....I don’t know if I can love the red star as much as you do.”

  “That’s okay,” he said softly. “Until you do, we’ll love it in your place. We’ll love it so much that eventually, it’ll rub off on you.”

  Creepy.

  What?

  You’re smiling.

  I felt my face. I really was smiling.

  You can’t even stick to an emotion. You were so adamant on being depressed and moody, but the moment he says something like that, you instantly switch up.

  Fucking weirdo.

  Then what am I supposed to do?

  Die.

  …….What?

  It’s clear that you’re wasting this second life. You’re not going to magically become a better person, so stop already. Give it up. Stop wasting your time, along with our friend’s time here. You’re gonna die anyway. Just speed it up. It’s not like we’re going to miss out on anything.

  I-.....I can’t-..........

  Yeah, I already know. You can’t go through with killing yourself. You’re too scared to.

  So damn annoying.

  ……..I’m sorry.

  “Beric, can I ask you something?”

  How long had Dad been waiting? “........Yes.”

  “Do you…… feel like you’re not a part of this family?”

  My head jerked up to look at him.

  His smile was faint, but his eyes were filled with a quiet sadness. It was as if he already knew the answer.

  “......Yes.”

  Dad took a deep breath. “Are you okay with telling me why?”

  Of course not. You wouldn’t believe me anyway. A teenager from a parallel world took over the body of your infant son. That same teenager is a piece of shit who doesn’t mind hurting his own “family” just to get a few levels. He’s already sold his soul to Death just to even be here. It’s ridiculous.

  If I had to answer, I’d have to keep it relevant to this body. “.......You and Arthur are always together, and Mom and Elaine are also always together. If not, you’re busy working, Arthur’s playing with his friends, Mom’s cooking, cleaning, and doing everything around the house, and Elaine’s either studying or helping out. There’s no spot for me. I just get in the way.”

  Dad’s eyes filled with sadness. “You don’t get in the way.”

  I do. I know I do. This family was perfect before I came along. If I hadn’t shown up, I’m sure things would have been better. This family would’ve been happier. I just know it.

  Dad seemed to struggle for the right words, and we sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity. I could feel the sickness rising in my stomach.

  “You’re very mature for your age,” Dad finally said. “And when you showed us how responsible you were so early on, your mother and I felt reassured that we didn’t need to coddle you. You learned to speak and listen quickly, and you followed our rules easily. You never ran off, even when you first started walking. It was the complete opposite of Arthur.” Dad chuckled softly. “But I think that was the issue.” He paused, staring ahead, lost in thought. “We were so impressed by your maturity that we…...didn’t treat you the same. We left you alone, thinking you were smart enough to be safe on your own. We trusted your maturity and responsibility, which is why we allowed you to do as you pleased. Now, I see that was wrong.” Dad’s gaze dropped to his palm. “We should have coddled you. We should have encouraged you to run and explore like a normal child. We should have stayed with you more, taken care of you more. We should’ve treated you like you were the same as Arthur and Elaine. We should’ve been better parents.”

  No. No, no. No, no, no.

  HAHAHAHA!

  The Corrupted Voice’s laugh echoed louder, clearer, more menacing.

  Why are you saying that? It’s my fault. I’m the one who acted so mature and responsible. Don’t blame yourself.

  Oh, Beric, you’re so entertaining. You did it again! You made someone cry, all because of what you did. How funny!

  Shut up!

  “No, it’s not your fault. It’s mine.” My words came out sharply, as I was oddly running out of breath.

  “How could it be your fault?”

  “Because—” My voice faltered, dying in my throat as I tried to explain. I cleared it, but nothing came out. I even squeezed my throat gently, but still, no words.

  “Beric, do you think I’m a good father? Are we a good family?”

  I nodded.

  “Then, do you love me? Do you love our family?”

  “Hah—” Only a rasp came out. I was confused. Why couldn’t I give a simple response? “Of course I do.” Nothing. I tried something shorter: “I love you.” Same result. I was desperate to answer, desperate to reassure him with something, anything. “Yes.” Still, nothing.

  Dad’s eyes welled with tears as they began to fall down his face.

  Speak, Beric, speak! Say anything! Just a simple answer! Even a “Yes” will do. Just say it!

  But I couldn’t.

  Can I not do something as simple as this?

  What’s wrong with me?

  Dad, I’m sorry.

  Can you even call him Dad anymore? It’s not like you love him. You only see him as a source of food and money.

  No, I— Can I? Look what I’ve done. He’s trying to control his emotions while I just sit here, staring at him. He’s crying because of me. I made him cry. I don’t deserve to call him Dad.

  Lucian dried his eyes, then raised an arm to me.

  He’s going to hit me.

  His arm drew closer.

  I deserve it.

  His arm hovered above me.

  I braced myself.

  But to my surprise, he simply placed it gently on my head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it.”

  I wiped my eyes as I looked at him.

  “You’ve been hurting all this time, and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell us about it. You thought you’d bother us, and because we praised your maturity, you believed you could bear it all on your own.”

  I saw it again. His smile returned, and his eyes softened. They were kind but firm once more.

  “It’s okay if you harbor some resentment towards us. We’ll carry some of your burdens, so one day, you can speak them aloud.”

  I bit my lip, squeezing my hands tightly. I don’t know if that day will ever come. I don’t know if I’m capable of it. I don’t know if they can wait that long.

  Lucian gently tilted my head back, making me look at the night sky again. “When I was your age, I didn’t have many friends either. On lonely nights like these, I’d lie on the grass, watching for shooting stars, hoping for friends.”

  I used to do the same with Grandpa.

  Dad let go of my head and pulled me in again. “One of those nights, my father came out to call me for dinner. But I think he saw how especially lonely I looked that night. So, he decided to do something. He laid down next to me, pointed at a little red star, and told me to watch it, just as you did. That’s when I saw it for the first time—the slow emergence of the bright yellow stars surrounding the red one. The stars quickly came to life, forming into the constellation I now know as Warrior.”

  “What did he say after?”

  “He told me that the constellation was just for me. He said, like Warrior, I would grow into a strong, respectable man. And when I did, I’d use my strength to help protect and support those around me. If I did that, I’d get all the friends I ever wanted.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Kinda.” He chuckled, a deep, genuine laugh. “What I’m trying to say is that it was through Warrior that I gained confidence. I wanted to be like him, so I helped Father with the chores, building up my strength day by day. Just as Father suggested, I started helping anyone in need—lifting heavy loads, building houses, and standing up for kids who were being bullied. That’s when I met your mother, but that’s a story for another time.” Lucian’s gaze drifted as if lost in memory.

  What was he going to say next? Was he going to show me another constellation? Would he train me, like the villagers trained him? If so, I don’t know if I want it. I don’t think it’ll work.

  Lucian turned to me, his expression thoughtful. “There are so many constellations out there. Some of mighty men, fierce beasts, and awe-inspiring works of art. But as for you, Beric, I believe none of them truly fit you.”

  I tilted my head, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “One day, you’ll find your own constellation. When you grow up and become an adventurer, you’ll meet many people. You’ll find friends who’ll make you laugh and shout around a small fire. They’ll be the ones you can rely on as you face powerful monsters. But you’ll also meet enemies. They’ll hurt you in many ways, and some might leave scars that’ll stay with you forever. But you’ll be alright. You’ll have your friends, your family—people you can count on. And when the time comes, when you’ve met enough people, you’ll be able to tell them. With the strength and courage you gained from your journeys, you’ll declare what you kept secret. You’ll finally be able to say you truly love them. And with that, your constellation will be complete.”

  My own constellation…………the friends, the foes, my family.

  My adventures.

  A strange tingling sensation spread through my chest. It felt odd, but in a way, I liked it. I know this might sound selfish, but I have to ask. If I don’t now, I may never ask again. “Can I hug you?” I whispered, too shy to say it louder. This was the first time I’d ever asked for one.

  Before I could even blink, Luci…….Dad pulled me into a tight embrace. “Next time, you won’t need to ask.”

  I hugged back, and it felt strange. The first time I had ever asked for a hug. But there were other firsts too. I let my tears fall freely, my sobs shaking my chest. I let the cries escape, the snot building up, uncaring.

  I can’t remember the last time I cried like this.

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  After I had calmed down, the two of us continued watching the sky for a bit. It was nice. The stars looked beautiful tonight.

  I almost jumped in shock when I heard a few critters scamper around near a bush to our right. I saw a few small shadows dart off into another big bush to the left.

  Were they always that loud?

  Uhm………hi.

  “Hello, Sys.”

  I’m sorry!

  “For what?”

  I shouldn’t have left you alone. I should have done everything I could to help you. But instead, I ran like a coward and left you to your own issues. I’m a failure as a personal system.

  “Yeah, you are a shit system. You keep getting things wrong, and you only help me half of the time.”

  ……….

  “But oh well, what can I do? I’m stuck with you, so I have to get used to it.”

  What?

  “Sys, it wasn’t your fault. I was the one who pushed you away, so don’t blame yourself for it.”

  But I-

  “Uh-uh. I said don’t blame yourself. As your user, I order you to obey.”

  But-

  “If you want to prove that you can be a better system, then shouldn’t you begin by obeying your user?”

  ……….I suppose.

  “Good.”

  But, Beric?

  “Yes?”

  What if……something like this happens again? And if……I’m the only one present? What should I do?

  An interesting question. “Sys, there’s no ifs. Something like this will happen again. That’s just the type of person I am. Even after something like this, I’ll find some way to become all mopey and sad again. And when that happens, I still want you to not try to talk to me.”

  ……..Okay.

  “But, I do want you there.”

  What do you mean?

  “I want you to do what you always do. Say stupid things, stupid jokes, or a stupid topic. As long as you’re there for me, along with your dumb conversation starters, then I’ll probably feel better.”

  Really?

  “Let’s hope so.”

  Okay! I’ll do whatever I can to make you laugh when the time comes.

  “Great. I will not be looking forward to it.”

  Oh man, I should look up some more jokes. Let’s see……top 10 dumb-

  I let out a yawn.

  “Here we go.” Dad picked me up and held me against his shoulder. “I’ll tuck you in.”

  As Dad began walking back in, I looked at the stars once more. I admired Warrior, and the shield that he held.

  I looked back at the red star. It was still shining brightly.

  One day, I hope that I can shine as bright as it.

  I hope my constellation will be just as bright.