Life Rebooted with Copy and Paste

The name Siwelin rang in Laoha's ears like a chime in a still forest. How could she not recognize it? It belonged to a child she had nurtured most carefully in a previous world.

However, one question gnawed at her. Why did that name come from Kim Do-Joon's lips?

“How do you know Siwelin?” Laoha asked steadily, but laced with curiosity.

“I met her,” Kim Do-Joon replied curtly, as casually as recounting the weather.

He went on to explain briefly how, while following the power left by the old man, he had found himself in Siwelin’s ruined world.

Everyone there had been buried in the soil of that forsaken land. Even Ushas withdrew his forces out of boredom, leaving nothing behind. Yet, Siwelin never stopped praying—all alone, in the wretched, cursed body of a Ghoul, a form that brought agonizing pain with every spark of faith she summoned.

Hearing this, Laoha’s eyes darkened with guilt and sorrow.

She remembered. For a moment, she looked back at the world she had abandoned. A burst of unexpected divine energy had caught her attention.

She had thought Siwelin had perished long ago—but no, she’d been alive, enduring unimaginable suffering. Realizing this, Laoha had been struck with grief so profound, it left a scar on her heart.

“So, that was your doing, wasn’t it?” Laoha asked softly, her voice trembling with unspoken emotions.

“No,” Kim Do-Joon corrected her firmly, shaking his head. “It was something Siwelin and I did together.”

He refused to take credit alone. Siwelin had spent countless years painstakingly crafting sacred artifacts, weaving her dwindling strength into them. All Kim Do-Joon had done was gather and amplify the power.

After hearing this, Laoha bowed her head deeply. It all made sense now. From that moment, Laoha and Kim Do-Joon had been connected by an invisible thread, tied together by their shared ties to Siwelin. Thanks to him, she had been able to confront the mistakes she had long buried.

“I’m sorry,” Laoha whispered.

Kim Do-Joon remained speechless.

“She was... the child I treasured most. I gave her more power and attention than anyone else. But when Ushas’ invasion grew fiercer, when the collapse of her world became inevitable...” Laoha hesitated, the memory visibly hurting her. “That was when she was struck by Ushas’ cursed arrow.”

The entire continent had fallen except for Siwelin’s sanctuary, held together solely by her power. However, when she collapsed, the last bastion of hope crumbled with her. That had been the end of their world.

“I... I had to flee,” Laoha admitted, her voice heavy with regret. “I knew Ushas would chase after me. I knew what would happen if I were captured. So I abandoned everything and retreated. I didn’t even stop to think about what would happen to that world.”

It was a war. Victors stormed castles and dragged defeated kings into ruin. She had to flee before Ushas could tear her from her throne—such was her justification, her excuse. In truth, she couldn’t bear to witness that world’s final moments, and in doing so, lost what truly mattered.

“If only I’d been stronger... or wiser... maybe she wouldn’t have suffered like that...” Laoha’s voice cracked with emotion.

She admitted that no matter the reason, it was her failure. Her selfishness caused Siwelin to endure centuries of torment. She said she owed Siwelin and Kim Do-Joon an apology.

Watching her, Kim Do-Joon felt a knot in his chest begin to loosen. Her words were sincere, and her remorse genuine. However, there was only one thing he could say.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” Kim Do-Joon said, almost exasperated.

“What?” Laoha asked, startled.

“If you’re going to apologize, it should be to her, not me,” Kim Do-Joon added. “What good does it do telling me?”

Laoha’s face dimmed with sadness. “But... she’s gone now. She passed on. How could I—?”

“She didn’t pass on,” Kim Do-Joon interrupted.

“...What?” Laoha tilted her head, confusion knitting her brow.

“She’s alive,” Kim Do-Joon said with a faint smile. “She’s living with me.”

Laoha blinked several times, faster than she had ever blinked in her life.

***

A red ring of fire appeared in the basement. Through this gateway connecting dimensions, two figures emerged—Kim Do-Joon and Laoha.

“This is...” Laoha murmured, scanning the surroundings.

“This is my home,” Kim Do-Joon replied nonchalantly.

Laoha glanced around with mild curiosity, taking in every detail.

Finally, she remarked, “It’s humbler than I imagined.”

Her candid observation carried a hint of surprise. In her mind, someone like Kim Do-Joon ought to be living in a grand palace, not such a modest structure.

Kim Do-Joon shrugged with a faint smirk. “Simple joys are the best, you know. Anyway, come on. Follow me.”

“Yes, of course.” Laoha nodded and trailed behind him.

Ascending from the basement, Kim Do-Joon felt the subtle energy of the household. From the looks of it, only Siwelin was home. Given the time, Kim So-Eun was probably at kindergarten, while Jecheon Seong had likely taken Bo-Mi for a walk, or was off training her in some secluded corner of a park.

Upon reaching the ground floor, Kim Do-Joon sought out Siwelin. He found her in the kitchen, washing the dishes. As if sensing his presence, Siwelin turned around to greet him.

Crash!

The plate she had been holding slipped, shattering loudly on the floor. Siwelin froze, her gaze fixed on the woman standing behind Kim Do-Joon.

A horned figure, clearly non-human, stood silently. Yet Siwelin barely registered those features. What captivated her was the divine aura emanating from Laoha.

“Child,” Laoha spoke softly.

At the sound of her voice, Siwelin fell to her knees, clasping her hands together. How could she not recognize the being she had devoted her entire life to worshipping?

Siwelin began to pray, her head bowed. Laoha, meanwhile, looked at her with an expression darkened by regret.

Kim Do-Joon scanned the narrow kitchen, taking note of the broken plate shards scattered across the floor. This wasn’t the best place for a conversation.

Moments later, he led the two women to Siwelin’s room. Inside, newly crafted sacred artifacts lined one corner, neatly displayed. Laoha’s eyes trembled as she noticed them.

Even though I couldn’t protect you, you’ve continued to believe in me...

Siwelin knelt deeply, as if she were a priestess offering homage in a sacred temple. For this moment, she had become the saintess of the past, devoted to her faith.

Watching her, Laoha broke the silence. “I’m sorry.”

Kneeling as well, Laoha wrapped her arms around Siwelin. Her voice, soft and laden with guilt, whispered in Siwelin’s ear, “I’m sorry for leaving you alone.”

The unexpected embrace made Siwelin freeze, her eyes wide. Laoha was her deity, a being to revere from afar, not someone to meet at eye level. Yet here she was, kneeling, apologizing, and holding her. Siwelin did not know how to respond.

Her panicked gaze darted to Kim Do-Joon, silently pleading for help. Her eyes seemed to ask what she’s supposed to do.

Of course, Kim Do-Joon offered no assistance. With an amused chuckle, he stepped out of the room, leaving them alone.

“Might as well clean up the broken plate,” he muttered to himself.

Now alone with Laoha, Siwelin felt her anxiety swell. If only Laoha had maintained her usual divine authority, she could have felt steadier.

Whether or not she was aware of Siwelin’s turmoil, Laoha gently stroked her, her gaze softening as she looked into Siwelin’s blinded eyes.

“This... is the curse of Ushas,” Laoha murmured.

Then, her hands moved to Siwelin’s eyes and neck, radiating a blindingly holy light. As the radiant power flowed into Siwelin, ten angelic wings unfolded behind Laoha.

Then, Siwelin’s sight returned to normal, and her voice, silenced for so long, finally emerged.

“A-ah...!” Siwelin gasped.

As the authority of healing, Laoha had effortlessly dispelled Siwelin’s curse. However, something puzzled Laoha.

“Why hasn’t your hair returned to normal?” she mused aloud.

Laoha distinctly remembered Siwelin’s hair as a shimmering white, reflecting sunlight. Now, it was a glittering black, reminiscent of the night sky.

At first, Laoha thought it was a lingering effect of Ushas’ curse, but even after dispelling it completely, the color remained.

“Ah...” Laoha’s eyes widened slightly, and then she smiled, as if understanding everything.

So, that’s how it is. This child no longer belongs to me. She has found someone else to rely on. This black hair is proof of that.

“Take this, Siwelin,” Laoha said calmly yet resolutely.

“Heavenly L-Laoha...” Siwelin stuttered, her words trembling with reverence and confusion.

Laoha’s wings unfurled wide, creating a brilliant, radiant embrace that engulfed Siwelin. The wings shimmered as countless specks of light emerged, detaching from Laoha’s back and flowing toward Siwelin. The overwhelming divine power coursed through her, leaving her immobilized under its weight.

When the light subsided, only two pairs of wings remained on Laoha’s back. The other eight pairs had transferred entirely to Siwelin.

“B-but why...?” Siwelin’s eyes widened, trembling with disbelief.

She couldn’t fathom why Laoha would grant her the pinnacle of her divine authority—Divine Descent.

“In the past, when I was left with nothing, it was my Father who saved me,” Laoha began, her tone reminiscent of a distant memory.

It was from a time long before she ascended as a ruler—a chapter so ancient that words were scarcely needed to recount it.

“And now, when you were left with nothing, it was that man, Do-Joon, who saved you.”

Laoha’s gaze softened, filled with an earnest hope. She didn’t want Siwelin to endure the same regret she had suffered—watching helplessly as someone she cherished was lost.

“With this power, protect your man. Do what I could not. Ensure you never have to endure the pain of regret.”

Siwelin lowered her head, her tears threatening to spill. She did not fully understand the overwhelming emotions welling within her chest. Laoha offered a bittersweet smile as she gently stroked Siwelin’s glittering black hair.

In the kitchen, Kim Do-Joon had just finished cleaning up the shattered plate fragments when the two women reappeared. He turned to them, his eyes widening at the sight.

One glance was enough for Kim Do-Joon to grasp what had happened. A significant portion of Laoha’s divine power now resided within Siwelin.

“M-Mr. Do-Joon...” Siwelin said hesitantly, surprising him.

Kim Do-Joon stood stunned, hearing her voice for the first time outside the visions of her past.

He smiled. “You’ve recovered.”

Siwelin nodded silently, still too accustomed to expressing herself wordlessly.

Seeing her healed eyes and neck, Kim Do-Joon chuckled warmly.

“I’m so glad.” Then, a curious thought struck him. “But why hasn’t your hair color returned?”

Siwelin flushed red, and she abruptly turned her head away. Confused, Kim Do-Joon looked at Laoha for an explanation, but she simply covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Something seemed off, but Kim Do-Joon decided not to press further. What mattered was that Siwelin had fully recovered. He then turned his attention to Laoha.

“And you? Are you okay with this?” Kim Do-Joon asked, concerned about how much power she had given away.

“It’s fine. It was my choice.” Laoha nodded and reassured him.

Though she had retained enough power to oversee the world of Mahal, most of her strength was now with Siwelin. Her only lingering concern was Ushas.

“I promise I’ll crush Ushas,” Kim Do-Joon said firmly, his determination evident.

Laoha smiled at his conviction, confident he would follow through. Looking at Kim Do-Joon and Siwelin standing side by side, Laoha felt a surge of contentment. For the first time in an eternity, she was reminded of the happiness she had long since lost.

***

In a dim, stone-walled basement, flickering torchlight illuminated a lone woman, bound at the far end of the room.

“Hylasa, was it? One of Alcyone’s spirits?” Drake, or Ushas, sneered as he addressed her.

His tone was laced with irritation but Hylasa remained silent, refusing to respond.

“Why is Alcyone hunting me down? Speak, or else...” Ushas raised a hand, dark energy writhing around it ominously.

The aura emanating from his hand was powerful enough to obliterate a spirit king in a single strike.

Before he could act, a voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Or what?”

The space tore open, revealing a man clad in a long, dragon-scaled robe—Alcyone had arrived.

Then, without hesitation, he dispelled the bindings around Hylasa, who quickly took refuge behind him.

“Alcyone,” Ushas spat, his lips curling into a disdainful sneer. “You’ve come on your own. Tell me, have you betrayed us?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Alcyone replied coolly. “I’m just an observer.”

“An observer who won’t stop digging into my business!” Ushas roared, swinging his hand in frustration.

The unleashed energy shattered the stone wall, its sheer force enough to intimidate most. Yet Alcyone remained unfazed.

“Don’t bother threatening me. I know you’re stronger, but I’m not so weak that you’d easily overpower me. Escaping, at least, wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Oh yeah?” Ushas’ lips curled into a cold smile. “Why don’t we test that?”

Indeed, if Alcyone had made up his mind to escape, not even Ushas, would easily be able to stop him. If he was alone, anyway.

"Grab him," Ushas ordered.

"What?"

At the sudden presence behind him, Alcyone quickly turned around. There, a massive hand, far larger than himself, was descending upon him.

Boom—!

"Keugh!"

"Aahh!"

The palm pinned both Alcyone and Hylasa tightly, slamming them down onto the ground.

―Ushas, do not give me orders.

A voice came from above, one that Alcyone also knew well.