Work Text:
“Kim Dokja!”
Here we go again.
Kim Dokja made a sound in response, already mentally preparing himself.
It turned out the reason Yoo Joonghyuk had called him over was only to hand him the iPad and ask which pair of bluetooth headphones to buy.
“Can’t you decide for yourself?”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s order was concise: “Choose.”
“How would I know what you want?”
Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him. Just looked. On his handsome face, beneath sharp eyebrows, that pair of heavenly eyes stared.
Kim Dokja had no choice but to give in. “Fine… this one.”
He guessed that Yoo Joonghyuk was going to use them during his morning jogs, so he had skimmed for sportswear that was both waterproof and discreet. When he randomly pointed at one, Yoo Joonghyuk selected his pick and immediately placed the order.
“You didn’t even purposely buy anything else.” Kim Dokja sighed.
“Am I that childish in your eyes?”
“...Sorry.”
He actually apologized. Yoo Joonghyuk seemed very satisfied with the attitude, showing an irksome smirk.
Kim Dokja found that Yoo Joonghyuk liked leaving trivial decisions to him, such as what to have for dinner, what games to play, and even what laundry detergent brand to use. It was almost as if Yoo Joonghyuk had forgotten how to live in modern society.
He really looked like he wasn’t used to it, sometimes just sitting on the couch, staring into space, and doing nothing at all for a whole afternoon. Kim Dokja felt that his motionless figure seemed to ask, “What should I do?”
At times like these, he would take the initiative to ask Yoo Joonghyuk to do little things. From housecleaning to staying at internet cafes, no matter how boring the activity, Yoo Joonghyuk typically wouldn’t refuse.
It was the Yoo Joonghyuk who, no matter what, would only take others’ opinions as a last resort.
Kim Dokja suddenly thought, Why does he keep asking me?
“Why don’t you ask Han Sooyoung these things?”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s face changed into one of slight killing intent.
“The last time I asked her what movie to watch, she recommended Groundhog Day.”
Kim Dokja tried to hold it back for a long moment, but he finally laughed out loud. Yoo Joonghyuk glared at him speechlessly, full of warning, but Kim Dokja kept laughing until tears came out and couldn’t stop.
That film was also known as Today Pauses Briefly, where the main character was trapped in one day and was forced to experience it repeatedly.
This “Returner” story, for Yoo Joonghyuk, would’ve been absolute torture.
Han Sooyoung must’ve chosen it with that insight, ending further troubles with a one-hit kill: Yoo Joonghyuk would never ask her again.
Then he really can only ask me, Kim Dokja thought.
Yoo Joonghyuk probably didn’t like being seen as a person who couldn’t make up his mind. With his little sister, his admirer, his former wife, his apprentice, his master… There was no one else to ask such things.
He wanted to maintain a firm, reliable image in front of women—besides Han Sooyoung, but Han Sooyoung wasn’t willing to waste time to help him with small favors.
And Lee Hyunsung was the type of person who would genuinely ask him: “I’m not sure, what does Joonghyuk-ssi think?”
That Yoo Joonghyuk also has times when he can only rely on me. At the thought, Kim Dokja stroked his chin and smiled.
“What are you doing? We’re leaving.”
As Kim Dokja was immersed in his own world, Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice trailed from the entrance.
“Huh? …Coming.”
A clock hung in a noticeable place on the wall of their home. It was 4:30 in the afternoon, indeed the time to go out. After the scenarios ended, Yoo Joonghyuk was still hypersensitive to the time. If he said he was going to leave the house at a particular time, he wouldn’t be a minute late. Today was Friday, the supermarket vegetables were half-off this evening, and it also just happened to be their turn to do the groceries.
Every weekend, Yoo Joonghyuk took over cooking to make an extravagant feast for everyone. Who knew how he did it, fast yet delicious. A large table of dishes, colorful in both aroma and taste, served swiftly. When the Star Stream still existed and he was its top transcendent, he was too good at cooking in his daily life—it was estimated that the level of his combat skills and homemaking skills matched, which just wasn’t reasonable, even for the protagonist. With his handsome looks on top, it was too unfair, inevitably making others a bit angry.
Yoo Joonghyuk walked beside him, noticed Kim Dokja focusing on his face, and stared right back. That gaze seemed to be asking: What’s the matter?
“...It’s nothing.”
Before Yoo Joonghyuk could become suspicious, Kim Dokja added, “I want to eat ppyeo-haejangguk.”
”Okay.”
Surprisingly, Yoo Joonghyuk was nice about it.
It was probably because beef bone soup wasn’t a difficult dish for him… This guy.
For his own satisfaction’s sake, Kim Dokja secretly insulted Yoo Joonghyuk in his head.
“Why are you staring off into space again?”
Kim Dokja was standing in front of the shelf when the voice sent chills down his spine. If Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice unexpectedly came from behind, he would never be able to get used to it.
“Oh… I was thinking, did we get the eggs?”
“Aren’t you holding them?”
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t mean to fluster him, but the scene was really embarrassing, all the same.
“The milk?”
“Got it already.” Yoo Joonghyuk closed his eyes as if there was something he couldn’t bear to look at.
Kim Dokja himself felt a bit at loss for words. Yoo Joonghyuk opened his mouth, but Kim Dokja spoke first.
“...Actually, I was wondering about why I don’t like tomatoes.”
Seeing tomatoes made him uncomfortable all over, as if he was having an allergic reaction. However, that couldn’t be true, since he ate some by accident one time. It wasn’t a big deal, but Kim Dokja still felt somewhat distressed about it.
Yoo Joonghyuk pushed the cart forward, motioning for him to put in the eggs.
Kim Dokja bent down, assuming he wouldn’t get a response, when he heard the short sentence:
“There’s nothing to wonder about.”
Joonghyuk-ah, that’s not how you chat with others. You just killed the conversation. Kim Dokja brushed it off silently, but it wasn’t like he had expected Yoo Joonghyuk to say anything nice in the first place.
“I still don’t like dogs.”
Well, those words were pleasantly unexpected.
“Your Master will be sad.”
“If a dog beat you for decades, would you still be able to like dogs?”
At the mention of dogs, Breaking the Sky Master did appear in Kim Dokja's mind first, but then Yoo Joonghyuk’s image also appeared. Yoo Joonghyuk, in his blue Taoist uniform… grew ears and a tail, letting out a bark that shattered the heavens—a reader’s imagination immediately jumped to this place.
In his head, Kim Dokja threw a frisbee—
Yoo Joonghyuk activated ‘Red Phoenix Shunpo’ and flew at it.
It was a funny thought.
“Stop thinking about it.”
It seemed that Yoo Joonghyuk misunderstood something.
“No, I was thinking of… Well, that’s fine. I like dogs, though.”
Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him and muttered, “You’re crazy.”
He got scolded for no reason, but Kim Dokja wasn’t angry at all. Instead, he smiled. Yoo Joonghyuk looked at this incomprehensible guy. Though his expression was angry, he was already more or less used to this.
When they walked out of the supermarket, it was already late. The setting sun slowly sank in the sky, and the dual hues of orange and blue outlines blurred, as if they were melting together into the twilight. Nighttime.
“Joonghyuk-ah.”
Every time he talked like that, nothing good happened.
Still, Yoo Joonghyuk tentatively responded, “What?”
“Let’s not take the subway. Let’s just walk home.” Kim Dokja’s tone was as relaxed as when he said “I want ppyeo-haejangguk.” But their arms were filled with various paper grocery bags, and even a sack of potatoes slung from Yoo Joonghyuk’s arms.
“Are you making a joke?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked with a frown.
“No, seriously.”
Kim Dokja quietly looked at him. He said:
“I hate subways.”
In the end, they still walked home, as Kim Dokja wished. Yoo Joonghyuk’s expression looked like he wanted to reproach Kim Dokja, but he said nothing. From time to time, he just glared at Kim Dokja with angry eyes. Their once-relaxed atmosphere was tense again, but Kim Dokja felt more comfortable.
“Joonghyuk-ah, thanks—”
His head was turned, and before he finished speaking, he collided straight into a high school student immersed in a webnovel on his phone. The student slumped backward, dropping the phone. Kim Dokja was knocked down as well. The grocery bag he was holding crumpled, and everything fell out.
“Hey, ahjussi, you—”
Just as the student was about to lash out, he saw Yoo Joonghyuk towering over him. Slim eyes narrowed further. The intimidating glare looked genuinely murderous.
That aura scared the student to death. He realized he had to avoid offending this person at any cost, so he immediately knelt down. “Sorry, sorry, it was my fault for not looking where I was going…”
Yoo Joonghyuk tsked, and the student didn’t dare lift his head. He hastily put all the scattered groceries back into the bag.
“If they’re damaged, I’ll pay—” He held up a broken apple, trembling as he looked at Yoo Joonghyuk.
“No need. Go away.”
Yoo Joonghyuk was somewhat impatient, as blackmailing high school students wasn’t his hobby.
The whole time, Kim Dokja smiled on the ground, waiting until the student had finished picking up, and he handed him his phone.
Head bowed, the high school student took the phone and ran away without looking back.
Yoo Joonghyuk extended a hand, pulling Kim Dokja up from the ground. Kim Dokja watched the high school student’s back and grinned.
“What are you smiling for?”
“Sooyoung’s webnovel.”
“What?”
“He was reading Sooyoung’s SSSSS-Grade Infinite Regressor. I used to also read web novels when I was walking—”
Kim Dokja smiled as if he had found a person akin to him, as if he were saying “As a reader, I forgive him.”
“That plagiarized work?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked. His complexion didn’t look so good again.
Kim Dokja looked at him in surprise. “Haha, you’re angry.” He didn’t stop looking at Yoo Joonghyuk’s face, seeming to think it was really funny. He was angry over this kind of thing, too? Did he care about the originality of his own story this much?
“You secretly peek at other people’s phone screens,” Yoo Joonhyuk said pointedly.
“No, when I picked it up, I just happened to see it…”
Kim Dokja dusted himself off, and Yoo Joonghyuk took on the extra bag of his groceries. The two of them chatted like this as they continued the walk home.
“It’s great,” Kim Dokja sighed.
“Han Sooyoung’s novel?”
“No, this kind of life.”
“This kind of life is great?”
“It is. Isn’t this the life you wanted?” Kim Dokja nudged Yoo Joonghyuk with his elbow, and, as expected, received a sideways glance.
Kim Dokja smirked and ducked a step away.
Yoo Joonghyuk suddenly said. “I was asking you.”
Kim Dokja looked at him blankly. “This… This is also what I wanted.”
“So that’s what the sick voyeur who likes to read sadistic regressor stories says.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s tone suddenly cooled, as if he were judging the story-consuming constellations. But Kim Dokja knew he wasn’t actually angry.
“Of course, that was a different matter. Life obviously has to be like this. I just want to live ordinarily, and read the books I want to read on weekends…”
“Liar,” Yoo Joonghyuk said decisively.
“I’m telling the truth,” Kim Dokja protested.
“Then say it again.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eye seemed to glow, and he stared straight at Kim Dokja. How was he so ready to activate the ‘Lie Detection’ skill at any time?
“Son of a bitch, why do you have to take things so seriously?”
The corner of Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth curled slightly. It was a small, triumphant smile.
“I also have times where I miss the Scenarios.”
Kim Dokja looked at him in disbelief. “You’re the least qualified to talk about me, you’re the sick one!”
*
Kim Dokja was sinking in the depths of his nightmare. There was only him, left behind on the subway. The empty subway seemed to be going far away, farther and farther from the earth, into the endless darkness.
In the subway, there was only him.
Kim Dokja startled awake and tumbled out of bed. After the loud thump, he lay blankly on the ground, unable to move in the darkness. That bone-chilling loneliness and vacantness felt too real, as if he had experienced it himself.
But if that was from his own experience, then what was his shopping trip with Yoo Joonghyuk this afternoon, chatting side-by-side as they walked home together? Also, he played cards with the kids that evening, and embarrassingly lost to them several times; he went to harass the reclusive Han Sooyoung but failed, had a drink with Sangah-ssi, and after that, he talked with Heewon and Hyunsung about dating, and listened to Jang Hayoung’s new music recommendation before going to bed—what of these?
Maybe he existed split in this world, with one half happy and the other lonely. Kim Dokja sat like this in the darkness, not moving at all.
Until someone turned on the light. When Yoo Joonghyuk walked in, at the moment, he seemed extraordinarily tall. He looked down at Kim Dokja. Kim Dokja also stared at him blankly.
“You’re crying.”
Kim Dokja touched his cheek, which was indeed wet.
“Strange, why am I crying?”
As if he had confirmed that he was fine, Yoo Joonghyuk turned and left. He didn’t say a word. Kim Dokja straightened up, and his gaze trailed after Yoo Joonghyuk’s silhouette. He wanted to ask Yoo Joonghyuk not to leave, but he didn’t seem to have the chance to say so, and Yoo Joonghyuk’s steps quickly went downstairs, gradually disappearing.
He was in a vacuum of silence again. Having lost all strength, Kim Dokja just sat there.
The sound of footsteps reappeared, and Yoo Joonghyuk returned to the room. He handed Kim Dokja a cup of warm milk. It was pink, probably strawberry flavored.
Kim Dokja, confused, obediently sipped the milk. The taste really was strawberry. “Thank you. This is…?”
“Mia said she wanted it, so that’s why I made it specifically.”
Only then did Kim Dokja remember that it was strawberry season, so they were on sale everywhere. Yoo Joonghyuk’s sister liked them, so he made freshly-squeezed strawberry milk and stored them in the fridge.
Just the right amount of sweetness spread on the tip of Kim Dokja’s tongue, and a warm sense of security returned to his body.
Thanks to Mia not drinking too much, and because the kids aren’t too into sweets, it’s my turn to get the sweet leftovers, Kim Dokja secretly thought.
“Did you have a nightmare?”
“Mm. I dreamed of the subway.”
“Subway? From the original scenario?”
“No.”
Kim Dokja clumsily recounted his dream.
Because he wasn’t a writer after all, it was difficult for him to explain things clearly, and he often repeated himself: so cold, no one was there, no one knew I was there, only I was in the subway car, and everyone turned their backs to me, walking forward, farther and farther, further and further…
“It felt as if… we’d never see each other again.”
After listening quietly, Yoo Joonghyuk said, “It’s just a dream.” It was his best attempt at consolation.
“The whole world could just be a dream,” Kim Dokja said.
That was true. They both fell silent.
“I’ve always been thinking… is it okay to be this happy?”
Kim Dokja spoke quickly again.
“Living in a big house with everyone, like a peaceful family. It’s so happy… so happy that it’s like… this isn’t really the ending.”
“We’ve already reached the ending together. This is our ending.” The protagonist’s voice had always been so firm.
But his assurances weren’t always effective, either.
“...It’s probably my problem. I can’t help but feel uneasy.”
Yoo Joonghyuk remained silent, and when Kim Dokja thought he would no longer speak, Yoo Jooghyuk said, “It will be all right. I will fix this problem for you.”
Kim Dokja was shocked. “Are you really Yoo Joonghyuk? You’re comforting me? You can also say this kind of thing?” He was so bewildered that he had to crack a joke.
Yoo Joonghyuk raised an eyebrow, and Kim Dokja could tell that he was really a bit angry.
Kim Dokja hastily added, “I believe you. After all, you’re the protagonist. There is nothing you can’t do if you say you will do it.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest rose and fell slightly, and his pupils trembled clearly.
Kim Dokja had never seen Yoo Joonghyuk like this before, and he could only listen as he spoke:
“Say it again.”
“If you say you will do it…”
“Before that.”
Kim Dokja said it again:
“I believe in you. After all, you are the protagonist.”
This simple, pure response was not something a guy like Kim Dokja would say.
This “Reader” trusted him, only because Yoo Joonghyuk was the protagonist. Yet, Yoo Joonghyuk had long been more than the reader’s protagonist. That was true for him, and it was supposed to be true for Kim Dokja… If he had just been the protagonist to Kim Dokja, then none of them would be standing here now, not at this ending.
Another person might not have seen this abnormality, but Yoo Joonghyuk alone had already noticed. The truth couldn’t be more clear that this was not the Kim Dokja who had walked with him on the same path all the way. At least, not quite.
From the moment he had been able to eat tomatoes, he wasn’t quite the same Kim Dokja. This Kim Dokja didn’t have enough pains or troubles. Perhaps the person who created him thought that such a Kim Dokja was more worthy of a happy ending.
The Kim Dokja now was an avatar created by Kim Dokja the companion. So the dreams he talked about weren’t just dreams, as avatars occasionally shared memories through dreams—there was another Kim Dokja in this world who stayed behind on the subway, who never got off. Yoo Joonghyuk almost instantly came to this conclusion.
The truth was, Yoo Joonghyuk had long had his doubts. Ever since getting off the subway, Kim Dokja behaved strangely. In the beginning, Yoo Joonghyuk thought it was because he wasn’t used to daily life. He closely observed Kim Dokja—this person always seemed lax, with slow reactions and no sense of danger. He was not at all like someone who had been through so many life-and-death situations. He did have memories of fighting with everyone, down to the details. But the strangest thing was, with such a good memory, he never mentioned the novel Ways of Survival—certainly not out of respect for Yoo Joonghyuk. Rather, he seemed to have forgotten that such a novel existed and was tired of the story. Something was truly wrong.
This night finally confirmed Yoo Joonghyuk’s suspicions, and there was nothing in this world that would make him willing to deceive himself further. He had to admit that this “Kim Dokja” would not know the answer—he would not know how Yoo Joonghyuk should continue to live… who he should live as. He didn’t know Yoo Joonghyuk’s broken past, nor did he know how Yoo Joonghyuk came to be, so he naturally wouldn’t know Yoo Joonghyuk’s future. He didn’t know what direction it would go. Perhaps, the person who knew was still alone on that subway.
“Is this the first time you had this dream?”
“...Actually, every time I dream, this one appears…” Kim Dokja rubbed his eyes, looking exhausted.
“...No wonder you are as tired as Han Sooyoung during the day.” Yoo Joonghyuk poured more strawberry milk for him.
Kim Dokja said in a whisper while drinking, “Don’t tell her this… I lied to her, saying I was too tired because I stayed up late reading her novel, that SSSSS-grade Infinite Regressor.
A lousy lie. Yoo Joonghyuk’s lip curled. Kim Dokja loved Ways of Survival so much, so why would he read plagiarized works?
“What did she say.”
“She said I was a liar—how did she know?”
With Han Sooyoung’s sensitivity, it was also a matter of time before she discovered it. It was only because she had been simultaneously dealing with the government and writing a new novel that she had no time to notice it yet.
Until then, Yoo Joonghyuk should not be the first to reveal it. The one who should call it out, like the child from the Emperor’s New Clothes, was Han Sooyoung, a writer who cherished her reader, who refused to remain blind.
Before that, Yoo Joonghyuk would have a few more ordinary days to spend. There could be a short tranquility in a long story of “eternity” like Groundhog Day.
For Yoo Joonghyuk, life was all about regressing and constantly fighting to save the world. But now, he had a short pause. He would stop here briefly and live a peaceful life with everyone. He would conquer everyone’s stomach with his superb cooking skills. He would also spend more time with his sister Mia, granting her every wish and letting her live the days of her dreams—he would become an ordinary person, even though he didn’t understand how to do it yet. This was also what Kim Dokja hoped for.
After that, Yoo Joonghyuk would fulfill his promise. Carefully, cautiously, he would become the hero again, and finally, he would solve his reader’s problem.
“Finished drinking?”
Kim Dokja nodded, and Yoo Joonghyuk took the cup from his hands, which unexpectedly resisted. Kim Dokja refused for him to take the cup as if refusing for him to leave.
“I don’t want to sleep yet.”
His lips trembled through a forced smile—he was an adult, but adults also had the privilege of being children, especially after waking from a nightmare.
“We’re going out for dinner tomorrow, did you forget?” Yoo Joonghyuk sat at the bedside, unexpectedly soft. “Remember what I said, sleep now.”
He made it clear that he would not leave for a while. Kim Dokja mumbled as he covered himself with the blanket, and he closed his eyes. Just like he believed Yoo Joonghyuk’s promise, at this moment, he undoubtedly believed that there would be no more dreams tonight.