"Father… Mother… forgive me. Your eldest has failed you."
Feeling the chill seep into my body, I shivered, reaching for the quilt, hoping to slip back into sleep through its warmth. My fingers brushed against something loose instead. Cold and damp soil crumbled beneath my hand. The smell of wet earth and pine needles filled my nose. My brow tightened as the thought that I might still be dreaming crossed my mind, but the cold only grew, sinking into my bones. My eyes snapped open.
I gasped and dragged in a rough and painful breath while morbidly realizing I was lying face down with my cheek pressed against loose soil and my limbs felt heavy and unfamiliar.
Where... where am I?
I pushed myself up, working through the gnawing ache and the biting cold across my body. My gaze settled onto two tombstones before me. Controlling my inner turmoil, I looked around to find I'm in a remote graveyard wrapped in the cold and oppressive fog. Above me, the sun was rising, and I raised my arm to shield my eyes. Then I noticed the hand was small, thinner, and not mine.
What on Earth?
A creeping dread spread through me. I staggered back, clutching at an unfamiliar chest, which rose and fell rapidly as I realized my body wasn't mine. Memories I had never known spilled into me like a flood—faces, voices, a childhood that wasn't mine. The body's name, its sadness, regrets, its fears, its love and guilt toward the two people buried in the tombs in front of me. I recalled them all as if mine.
The body's name was Crayon V. Wyatt. It bore the name of 'V' and the same surname as me, □□□□□□ V. Wyatt. It recently turned 19 years old, but its soul passed away tragically, like the life it lived.
Crayon's world was an alternate Earth considering our shared history until the two bifurcation points: the global birth rate crisis and Grimmyth. The response of the two Earths to the fertility crisis deviated our worlds' history, but what truly set our worlds apart was when this Earth connected to Grimmyth, an extraterrestrial dimension filled with resources and horrors beyond human imagination.
Crayon's parents were Grimlocks and renowned Grim Raiders, who passed away during their last raid nearly fifteen months ago.
With his gardeners gone, Crayon's life withered.
First, the Zenith guild their parents' worked and died for, threw him and his brother out onto the street, taking back their parents' property and insurance payouts to cover the debt they had taken to build their Grim Decks.
Second, he dropped out of school to shoulder the family's responsibilities so his little brother wouldn't end up in foster care with strangers.
Third, he worked three odd jobs year-round to keep a roof over their heads, put food on the table, and cover his brother's school fees.
Fourth, the younger brother for whom he had devoted his entire life, forged his signature, took loans from anyone willing to lend, to become a Grimlock, and then cut ties with him after he became one.
Fifth, and the final straw that broke the camel's back, the Zenith guild's goons jumped him on his way to the cemetery for causing a scene during his younger brother's signing ceremony with them.
I had no idea whether they meant to teach Crayon a lesson or kill him, but it led to his death. After he dragged his battered body to his parents' grave and begged for forgiveness for failing them—because he had let their youngest go astray: "Father… Mother… forgive me. Your eldest has failed you."
Crayon was far more mature than his age would suggest. After his parents died, he didn't allow himself a moment to mourn — he stepped up immediately as the eldest. Even though he'd been pampered all his life, he never hesitated to take on anything that came his way, doing whatever he could to give his younger brother what he needed before he asked, and what he wanted when he asked.
I wasn't surprised by how things turned out. Crayon had always believed that, as the eldest, it was his duty to look after the youngest in their parents' absence. His younger brother felt the same, never appreciated it, and even resented him for not doing more. When Crayon confronted him at the guild's signing ceremony, the youngest argued, "I would've done the same for you if I were the eldest. No, I would have done better."
How could they think any differently? They grew up hearing the same line over and over: 'Crayon, you're the eldest. You have to take care of your brother.'
They were only a year apart, yet that single difference shaped them into two completely opposite men—one who lived for others, and one who lived only for himself.
The clearest example was this: Crayon never once considered saving money for his own Grimlock certification, even though he had been of legal age for a year. He prioritized his familial duties above himself. But his brother didn't hesitate to take out loans under both their names to become a Grimlock the moment he qualified, never sparing a thought for his older brother.
Even as he drew his last breath, Crayon didn't blame his brother—he blamed himself for not doing better. The idea of reporting his brother for forging his signature on those loans never even crossed his mind. Instead, he was happy for his younger brother when he heard the news.
The only reason he confronted his younger brother at the guild's signing event was because his brother had joined the Zenith guild—the same guild that had thrown both of them onto the streets without a shred of regard for their parents' sacrifice or years of service. Crayon only wanted him to choose a different guild.
But in the heat of the moment, with emotions running wild, everything spiraled out of control. By the time the dust settled, the media and the guild had already painted him as a scheming older brother who crashed his younger brother's signing event, greedy for his sibling's rising fortune.
The Zenith guild sent their goons after Crayon, to bury the scandal. Instead they raised me, a world-renowned scientist, entrepreneur, and philanthropist, as Crayon V. Wyatt by what my heart could only understand as divine intervention.
Crayon never sought revenge—he only wanted his younger brother to live well. So I had no wish to stir trouble with his brother or Zenith guild. But if they dare raise a storm… then I will show them that I am the storm.