the scars of your existence (are not yours to bear alone)

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/48275827.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Gen
Fandom: 전지적 독자 시점 - 싱숑 | Omniscient Reader - Sing-Shong
Character: Kim Dokja | Oldest Dream, Yoo Joonghyuk | Secretive Plotter, Living
Flame | 999th Regression Uriel, Master of the Sunken Island | 999th
Regression Lee Jihye, Monarch of the Great Abyss | 999th Regression
Kim Namwoon, the kkomas, King of Silverlight Heart | 999th
Regression Lee Hyunsung
Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Found Family,
Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Humor, Heartwarming
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-07-01 Completed: 2023-07-19 Words: 28,868
Chapters: 13/13

the scars of your existence (are not yours to bear alone)

by FoldedBluePaper

Summary

It’s summer when Kim Dokja wakes up from a lengthy dream to an unfamiliar house and
people who have only ever existed as characters on the pages of a book. Uriel, Lee Jihye,
Kim Namwoon, Lee Hyunsung and…

Yoo Joonghyuk.

Kim Dokja slowly realises that knowing another person isn’t as easy as just having read
about them. Especially when it comes to one certain individual.

It takes a summer for Kim Dokja to learn many things for the first time.

It takes a summer for the others to be the ones to show him.

Or- the 999 group, Oldest Dream and Secretive Plotter beyond the events of the train
station.
 the oldest dream
Chapter Notes

But we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever.

- Haruki Murakami

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Waking up felt like a dream.

It was the seconds after being submerged in a vivid nightmare, trying to discern which one held
more resemblance to reality. For a few minutes Kim Dokja laid there, breaths even against a wide
expanse of white ceiling as his mind drifted between his memories, grasping for any recollection of
truth.

Fragments of moments surfaced but they were muted. Kim Dokja felt the beginning of panic flood
in, a heaviness in his chest that clawed away at reason. He pushed the thin blankets off before the
feeling could fully take hold and sat up, a cool breeze brushing against his nape.

Glancing at the open window he shivered, dully noting that the slither of space could fit a
desperate person through if they so wanted to. Granted, at what looked to be two storeys high, it
wouldn’t be enough to do anything too serious. Of course that also depended on if the intention
was escape or something else entirely… and along that unproductive train of thought Kim Dokja
forced his attention to himself instead.

He winced at the creases on his school uniform. His mind blanked at why he was wearing it in the
first place when outside the setting sun left pink trails in its wake, the cloying scent of flowers on
the wind undoubtedly marking the peak of summer. He surveyed the room next, four blank walls
and a faded wooden floor, a singular wardrobe at one corner next to the bed. The rest of the space
was bare like a canvas waiting to be painted on- which naturally brought one's attention to the
singular most important thing there.

At first the door seemed closed, and that provided a momentary relief to his mind. Upon closer
inspection however it was left a small crack open, almost imperceptible at a casual glance. Kim
Dokja crossed the distance hesitantly and reached out to the door handle, steeling himself.

When he finally stepped out into the corridor the cool floor bit into his warmed skin. What had
been blocked inside the room could suddenly be heard outside, a group of indistinct voices coming
from the floor below.

Kim Dokja was no stranger to sneaking around a house, a skill he had hastily learnt through fear
and perfected through mistake-riddled practice. Steps light, breath slow and fingers gently mapping
out memorised walls. Except this corridor was unfamiliar against his fingertips- unblemished
where before there had only ever been flawed cracks and small holes as landmarks to guide in the
dark. It was therefore harder to make it to the stairs when his sense of perception was thrown off so
thoroughly.

The voices were discernible now that he was closer, words coherent in their sentences. Kim Dokja
paused near the base of the stairs, eyes flicking to the front door within arms reach of the outside
world. All he had to do was cross that distance and he could leave from here. He stayed there and
listened to the cadence of voices from the room ahead of him.

He took a slow step forward, then another and another… until he was right in front of the ajar door.
Looking through the gap, he was able to piece together that it was a kitchen integrated into a living
area of sorts. The room itself was larger than any he’d seen before, stretching past the limited angle
he was able to observe. Similar to the room he had woken up in, it was mostly empty of furniture
as if having been recently moved into.

Of the little fragments that had by now come back to Kim Dokja he remembered them. But he still
had to suck in a breath when he craned his head to peek around the door to tell himself that no, this
was not a dream.

He observed them, trying to understand why they seemed so much more real than the story he’d
read, the black pixels on a screen failing to come close to the depth of a human in the flesh. It was
inconceivable to think of, yet there they were, casually defying all logic.

Facing away from him they didn’t notice the small figure at the door. Though he couldn’t see their
faces he knew them well enough to pick out each person from just their backs alone. Lee Jihye and
Kim Namwoon were tensely sitting upright on a sofa going head to head at a video game, cursing
the other when one was losing. Lee Hyunsung and Uriel watched, the latter enthusiastically
cheering them on.

He wanted to stay like that, fingers curled around the doorframe, an observer of the scene. But then
a voice called out to him.

“Dokja-ya?”

A warm and soft lilt of a female voice, yet completely unfamiliar. He froze at it, mind blanking as
several heads turned towards him in unison.

Uriel was the first to move, having somehow spotted him before he could duck his head away. She
slowly stood up and walked over as if approaching a frightened animal.

But Kim Dokja knew this wasn’t fear keeping him rooted on the spot, his heart pounding in his
chest.

It was guilt. Even now, was he still qualified to dream about such things?

“Dokja-ya, did you just wake up? Don’t worry, everything is alright.”

He could feel it, the lingering panic in his head that hadn’t entirely left rising like a wave. He took
a step back and watched in dull horror as a look of hurt passed over Uriel’s face, her steps halting.

Even after everything all he did was hurt them. Why had they even bothered saving him? Was it
selfish to not want this, the responsibility of being in their lives knowing the cause of every one of
their suffering was his own rampant longing?

“Kim Dokja.”

And there was the missing piece, a singularity born from the heart of his imagination. The voice
was quiet, deep and yet in some way painfully familiar. It was jarring to hear it- the voice of the
man he had been reading about all his life, a voice that had been only possible to hear in his mind,
a breadth of emotions only ever conveyed through words and full stops, commas and exclamations.
Goosebumps rose on his arms and he heard his breath hitch. He slowly turned around. Like
gravitating towards it, he met the gaze of the protagonist he had spent countless days reading about
within a small device.

In that moment he’d expected those eyes to be the most familiar thing in the world. But why this?
They seemed to bear deep into him, the most distant thing to his imagination.

So maybe it was a certain madness that even then he found himself relaxing in that presence,
trusting the life of a stranger he believed he knew intimately.

Behind him Uriel moved closer as she saw his shoulders become less tense. Kim Dokja turned at
the movement, watching her approach until she crouched in front of him at eye level. She smiled
gently, hair casting a halo around her head and asked, “Dokja-ya, would you like to stay here?”

At first he didn’t process the words. When they registered moments later he vividly remembered
the monster at the train station, its hands reaching for a broken sword, and the words he wanted to
say get caught in his throat.

It seemed he didn't need to respond though, a silent relief, when the man behind him said, “Uriel.”
There was a warning tone behind those words and she looked beyond Kim Dokja’s shoulder, her
face tightening like they had already discussed this before. Instead of letting it draw out however
she simply directed her attention back to Kim Dokja and smiled, changing the subject smoothly.
“That’s right, you’re still in those clothes. Let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

And then he was back in the bedroom, standing in front of the wardrobe with everyone crowded
behind him. What he had presumed to be empty was in fact filled with clothes, price tags still
attached.

Lee Hyunsung spoke up to explain. “We bought some clothes since you don’t have any spares with
you.”

Lee Jihye added, “You don’t have to like them, we can return any you don’t want.”

He was handed a towel and some clothes by someone- Kim Dokja couldn’t bring himself to look
up at them. He was guided to the first floor bathroom, which conveniently happened to be the
closest to the room.

By the time the water turned hot and steamed up the tiles his piled up thoughts started crashing
down. He gasped, sliding against the bathroom door to the floor.

Their kindness weighs heavily on him, the way they dance around him, worried they’d hurt him.
He doesn’t know how to process that, such tender care for someone they had only just met who by
all rights they should hate. And it’s horrible that even though it’s kindness it was in some way from
near strangers, and despite finding himself yearning for it, it still ends up feeling violently
suffocating.

Kim Dokja rolled up his sleeves and ripped off the plasters lining his arms with slightly more force
than necessary. The still healing wounds were bordered by red outlines of where they once sat,
unburying unwanted memories.

He let the hot water nearly scald his skin. It helped focus his troubled mind.

After he was done he unfolded the clothes that had been given to him. His stomach twisted when
he saw the top was half-sleeved. He quickly threw it over his head, knowing the rest of the
wardrobe would likely be the same when it was summer. Lying about his injuries wasn’t
 something new although he really wished they out of all people would never have had to see, to
suspect, to know . He wrapped the damp towel over his shoulders, managing to cover most of his
forearm at the very least.

He really was lucky that the bathroom was located nearby because he didn’t see anyone on his way
back. Just before he crossed the threshold into the room he heard their voices downstairs again and
paused. Whether it was to allow him some space he wasn’t sure, but Kim Dokja intended to make
use of the chance.

When he spotted the lock on his side of the bedroom door however he was hit by a sense of déjà
vu. Fingers resting on the handle he considered the small thing, a sign of privacy that indicated this
was his own room.

He had a lock once, a hope of protection, but it had broken soon after being installed following its
discovery by an angry drunkard who used it to lock him inside instead. At the memory Kim Dokja
unconsciously gripped the handle and began turning the lock clockwise.

He jumped when he heard a loud laugh from the floor below. Immediately recognising the tone as
Lee Hyunsung, his hand dropped and he turned away.

The indistinct bag on his bed was new- as were most things now- and he approached it with the
same wariness as everything else that evening. Peeking into the gap at the top his eyes widened
and he hurriedly upended the bag onto the bed.

Plasters, bandages, surgical tape and a few long sleeved clothes made for the summer heat- a
culmination of ways to hide his worries. Kim Dokja gently sat on the bed, opening the packet of
plasters first as he began the careful work of covering up. At the end he swapped out the t-shirt he
was wearing for one of the new ones, feeling more at ease once done.

The door was firmly closed and though he knew they were probably expecting him he suddenly
felt inexplicably tired.

His hair was still wet and he would probably catch a cold with how wide he pushed the window
open, but the sounds distinct to nightlife were things worth risking it for. Climbing into the bed he
tried to avoid thinking of the disappointment he was about to cause.

When a half hour later steps stopped outside his door, he held his breath and prepared to feign
sleep. But the individual didn't enter and then he heard a door nearby open and close.

Soon after a group of lighter steps and whispers follow, fading out further away, each to their own.
Kim Dokja calmed, opening his eyes as he turned his head to the window. The fluttering curtains
casted shifting shadows on the floor and he watched them, this slow and lonely dance between light
and dark.

He was not surprised an hour later that though he was drained he could not sleep. Perhaps the
unfamiliar environment or his energetic thoughts were to blame. At one point he even thought he
heard a train rolling over tracks in the distance, sounding strangely like home.

How odd, he thought, that the whole day felt more like a dream than now, at a time where the
boundary between real and not was meant to be eternally clear, and now that it was time to sleep
his mind felt most awake.

Chapter End Notes

Updates will happen everyday or 2/3 days.

Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! See you in the next chapter :)
 reading

It took a few days to become accustomed to the situation, to knowing that several people were
living under the same roof.

Perhaps it was this exact reason that one morning, when Kim Dokja woke up slightly earlier than
he usually did, he walked straight into a quiet confrontation in the kitchen.

He could clearly see Uriel’s frustrated expression, her arms tightly folded over and voice cold. She
stopped mid-sentence when she spotted him in the doorway and hurriedly smoothed out her
expression until it was neutral.

His mind replayed the scene in his head, trying to catch the last sentence a second time. But after a
while all that it confirmed were the words ‘ how long ’, ‘child’ and ‘ignore’ . It was enough to
guess that Uriel’s anger was about Kim Dokja and directed at the other individual, except
everything missing in between made it hard to fully understand.

Yoo Joonghyuk stood behind her, arms folded loosely as he impassively watched her. His eyes
flicked over to Kim Dokja, face as equally unreadable in the soft morning light.

Uriel was the first to break the silence. “Good morning Dokja-ya, I was just about to head out.
Would you like to join me? We can take a walk around and get some fresh breakfast for
everyone.”

Kim Dokja couldn’t possibly miss the spark of hope in her eyes whilst she made up the lie and
knew that she probably wanted to step away from the house for a while. He gave her a small nod
and watched her face brighten, a wide smile completely transforming the space around her.

It was how he ended up walking down the main street, watching as she enthusiastically talked and
gasped and pointed at the things around her.

Like this. There was a food stall selling pancakes, chocolate drizzled generously over and packed
with bright red strawberries that she lingered at, before sighing that it was probably too early for it.
There was a stray white cat lazily basking in the warming rays at a street corner that Uriel stopped
to stroke, hand carefully creeping forward until met with no resistance. There was a musician
playing a guitar on the opposite side of the street that she turned to as they passed, head tilting as
she immersed in the gentle notes.

Strangely enough it was like observing through the lens of an enraptured child and Kim Dokja
found himself getting lost in that worldview, thinking that he had never before experienced it with
such intensity.

Soon after he spotted their destination ahead, an elegant looking bakery with an array of pastries
and other delicacies he couldn’t begin to name lined up in the display window. Enticing by sight
alone, Kim Dokja couldn’t begin to imagine just how delicious the interior must have smelt.

It was only by chance that his eyes then skipped past the store to further down the road. His gaze
narrowed on an unmistakable building, old bricks standing out against the modern storefronts
surrounding it.

Unknown to him, Uriel had spotted this shift in attention and followed his line of sight. She smiled
secretly when she recognised what had caught his eyes, steps light with a newfound determination.
When they neared the bakery Kim Dokja naturally slowed down- only to find her walking straight
past it. Confused, he was forced to lengthen his strides into a fast walk. When he caught up to her
he pulled at her sleeve, slightly breathless, and she stopped in her tracks. Thinking she had
somehow mistaken or not seen the place, Kim Dokja nodded behind him and said, “The bakery is
back there.”

Uriel smiled widely at him and simply pointed ahead. Kim Dokja followed the direction of her
finger to see it was the exact building he’d been staring at moments earlier.

“It can wait,” she said.

Kim Dokja quickly caught on.

“Just a quick visit won’t hurt, right?”

After a while he nodded slowly. She beamed widely again and slipped her hand into his, guiding
him forward.

Kim Dokja’s eyes widened in surprise.

It was only a few steps later when she realised what she had unconsciously done. Uriel hurriedly
took her hand away and apologised profusely, steps slowing down. Kim Dokja shook his head
lightly to show he was fine and looked down at the pavement.

Within those seconds he was reminded of the warmth of a hand in his, an entire childhood spent
with a different person.

He wondered at how perfectly imperfect two hands could join together, the unexpected calluses on
her palm that had been rough against his own skin. His hand swung back empty to his side and
they resumed walking in silence. He could feel Uriel’s lingering guilt, but didn’t have the words to
say what he wanted to in order to dissolve it.

When they entered the library the temperature was cooler, the air conditioning hitting them softly
like a barrier into the space.

Kim Dokja has not stepped into a library for years, and perhaps it even felt like decades. As
unfamiliar as the space was however he was already relaxing into it. An eternity could never hope
to erase this intrinsic feeling of awe, of comfort, of home that was carved into his very bones.
There was something about spaces made for solitary individuals that beckoned him, so similar to
how the sound of the train that first night had made him feel.

He took a step forward, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Uriel was following, before letting
instinct guide him forward.

Walls and columns whispered of a history he couldn’t begin to understand, windows as tall as the
ceiling stretching the space. Kim Dokja wasted no time and delved right into the heart of it all.

The library was huge, rows and rows of bookshelves with seemingly no map going infinitely
deeper. Kim Dokja walked past them, fingertips trailing on the spines of countless lives confined in
pages and wrapped in covers. He didn't stop until he reached a secluded dead end, a small window
above gently warming a reading nook built into the end wall. It was only once he was there that he
breathed out slowly and started reading the titles of books. His eyes scanned the words and he
moved systematically from the top to bottom shelf.

He was so completely immersed within the task that he forgot he had come with somebody, until
he heard the sound of swaying fabric. Twisting around, he nearly bumped into Uriel standing
behind him as she craned her head to see a book just above his head. Kim Dokja hurriedly moved
over to the next row of books to give her more space to browse. As he did he glimpsed the way the
sunlight hit her hair, making it golden and ethereal.

The scene tugged a memory in his mind.

He was ten. His mother’s hands combed through his hair as he sat in her lap in a park, her long
strands lit by the sun tickling his neck. Curious, he’d asked her about the smell of worn books in
the library they’d just visited. She’d answered calmly back that it was just the breakdown of
compounds making up the paper pages.

But to Kim Dokja, all he understood was that the comforting smell of books he loved was that of
dying stories.

He doesn’t know why he then ended up telling Uriel this mundane piece of information, his
solitary voice carrying a wisp of the past, “Someone once told me that the scent of old books is just
the pages breaking down over time. Isn’t that sad?”

He didn’t mean to but the words emerge darker than he intended. Kim Dokja immediately regretted
having spoken the moment he finished. Why would anyone be sad over the natural decay of an
object? He must have sounded strange to Uriel, ridiculous even, for considering such a thing.

Bowing his head in embarrassment, Kim Dokja hooked a finger on a random book’s spine and
opened it to the first page, attempting to brush off the moment. In the periphery of his vision he
saw Uriel turn towards him.

“Even if you preserved books in the best condition it’s impossible to stop their eventual
breakdown.”

Uriel’s tone was contemplative, considering Kim Dokja’s words so seriously that he blinked. He
focused on the voice even as his eyes rested inattentively on a comma between two sentences.

“All these stories, will they sit here collecting dust if no one picks them up? If that’s the case,
wouldn’t it be better to cherish the pages while they still exist, to let them know they have been
loved in their lifetime?”

He pivoted around to face her and looked up, something twisting in the pit of his stomach. From
the highest shelf she removed the book she’d been eyeing this whole time, gold lettering etched
into the spine. She trailed a finger against the letters almost reverently before looking at Kim
Dokja, head tilting.

“Wouldn’t it be too tragic to let them sit untouched? Perhaps reading them is not as cruel as you
would think.”

And although the conversation didn’t begin about him, the words make his breath stutter. In her
shining eyes he glimpsed the sight of a former constellation. He recalled the lengths she had gone
through to help Yoo Joonghyuk in the 999th turn, a part of the story whilst others watched from
above.

He wasn’t sure on how to respond beyond the whirlwind of emotions he was facing, but thankfully
Uriel doesn’t let the pause drag on.

She slotted the book in her hand back onto the shelf, the only sign of disturbance being dust specks
floating through the sunlight, and said, “We should head back soon. Would you like to borrow
some books?”

Kim Dokja knew she was offering a way of forgiveness, but he wasn’t ready to accept it yet. He
needed more time to think things through.

She managed to read this on his expression somehow because her next words were soft. “That’s
okay too. They will still be here tomorrow and the day after that, for whenever you’re ready to pick
them up.”

The words loosened the tightening feeling in his chest, and he returned his own book to its rightful
place on the shelf. Leaving empty-handed like he came made it feel like he had made no set
commitments to begin with and that was a relief to his mind.

They went to the bakery after that and the smell of warm loaves and fresh dough wafted through
the door, as alluring as he’d thought. They bought an arrangement of things to try in large
quantities, from cinnamon rolls and bagels to muffins and cake slices. Kim Dokja ended up
carrying one of the two large brown bags close to his chest, the scent burying into his clothes.

When they entered the house everyone else had woken up and was crowded around the table. Lee
Jihye visibly perked up at their arrival, hair messily tied up in a ponytail. Lee Hyunsung looked
more freshened up in comparison, as if he’d woken up hours ago and had been waiting for the
others to as well.

Kim Dokja placed the bag on the kitchen table. Uriel swatted away Kim Namwoon’s incoming
hands from her own bag and started unpacking the items within.

Kim Dokja ended up helping with handing out the food, although he didn't mind. He distributed
evenly between awaiting plates, careful not to drop crumbs on the table. Lee Hyunsung thanked
him and Lee Jihye followed, mouth already stuffed with a bite of chocolate cupcake.

When he was done he quietly took his own plate, noticing Uriel had slid him extra pieces of some
of the food. Kim Dokja wanted to thank her- but with her breaking up a fight between Lee Jihye
and Kim Namwoon over who would take the last cinnamon bun- he couldn't find an opportunity.
He used the chance to slip away into the background instead, wondering how he was possibly
going to finish everything on his plate.

It was only then that he noticed the other person lurking in the background. He watched from the
kitchen counter, arms folded as if he hadn’t moved since they left.

Yoo Joonghyuk observed the group eat from that distance, seemingly with no plans of joining in
himself. Kim Dokja realised they'd forgotten to put an extra plate for him and with a glance back
realised everything had already been taken. His steps faltered, and it was enough of a subtle change
for the sole individual to notice, head turning and deep eyes meeting with Kim Dokja’s.

For some reason in that second Kim Dokja recalled the bag from that first day, sitting solitary and
inconspicuously on the bed. He forced his steps to continue, eyes looking to the floor until he
reached the other person. He silently extended his plate out.

For a moment there was no movement and Kim Dokja waited, staring at the plate with an extreme
focus on the food.

But then a hand reached forward, hovering over for a second before selecting a singular pastry and
moving back out of sight. Kim Dokja relaxed, putting the plate on the counter between them.

After a moment’s deliberation he picked up a muffin and took a small bite, the surprising but
heavenly rich taste of strawberry jam in the centre perfectly syrupy in his mouth.
 monster
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

He’s dreaming again.

Kim Dokja knows this because once upon a time his entire being had been dedicated to that
singular act, and now he’s even able to discern that this is a different type of dreaming. If before he
could have described it as a gentle slumbering, now it was a daze-like wander.

He’s sitting on a bench, head ducked down in concentration, gripping a black ballpoint pen with
ink half-finished. On the grey lines striking the white page a diagram is emerging, complicated
arrows and illegible scribbles staring back at him. His school jumper keeps him warm for the most
part, even if it’s been worn so many times the seams have started to unravel.

He must have gripped the pen too hard or it was leaky because there’s ink splodges on the page. It
spreads and eats up the letters greedily until the whole page is stained black. He watches this
process with a calm detachment, although feeling a pang of sadness at having lost whatever he had
worked hard on within the notebook.

The station he’s in is eerily empty even as trains arrive and leave every few minutes, punctual only
for no passengers to be there. Kim Dokja isn’t sure why he’s not boarding, but he feels a sense that
he’s waiting for something, and that is reason enough to not further question being here.

So that when he hears the train doors open and the following sound of footsteps on the platform he
jerks his head up. Surprised, that someone has come even as he has been hoping for it.

At first he’s confused, because he thinks he sees himself standing there. His face is longer, sharper,
face darkened with eyebags, but unmistakably his.

What is most striking are his eyes, because he hasn’t ever before seen so much despair and hatred,
guilt and horror. It was another thing entirely watching all those churning emotions as they pool
steadily into one, a glint of grim acceptance and determination.

And then time distorts and he watches in horror as that figure warps, wings and horns and a broken
sword until he can’t recognise it as himself anymore. Fear rises in him, but there’s nowhere to run
on the narrow platform.

“M-monster…”

And then he looks down because the black ink has spread from the page to his hand, fingertips
disappearing into the shape of blunt claws. On his head he feels a cold and heavy weight. The
monster walks towards him and he’s paralysed, doomed to watch as it nears until it’s right in front
of him, grabbing his chin with freezing hands and he’s forced to look into hollow irises carved into
empty sockets and all he sees in that violently still lake is a

reflection

of
 himself

and there’s two monsters now and he can’t breathe and it whispers into his head it whispers in his
own voice it whispers it’s your fault, you started this and now you’ll end it-

Kim Dokja’s eyes snapped open and he choked on the lack of air, suffocating in silence.

Scrambling out of bed he staggered towards the window, shaking fingers gripping onto the
windowsill. He tried to open it but his fingers slipped on the handle each time until he realised it
was locked- since when had it been locked- panic overtaking him, mind blanking-

But then the window pushed open fully and his legs gave in and he crumpled to the floor.

Kim Dokja has taught himself how to deal with nightmares like this, head against the wooden floor
and the illusion of freedom in an open four frame window. Even so it still took him longer than
usual to calm down enough that he could sit upright, clothes sticking sickeningly to his back.

His mouth was dry, eyes scratchy, fingertips cold. Water. He needed water. He waited another few
minutes so his legs would stop feeling numb before shakily standing up. As quietly as he could he
headed towards the door and opened it, praying it wouldn’t creak. When it didn’t he let out a slow
exhale and stepped outside, using his memory to navigate in the dark.

It was only once he was halfway down the stairs that he noticed the kitchen light was on. Pausing
on the last step Kim Dokja hesitated. In the end though curiosity and thirst drove him decisively
forward.

At first Kim Namwoon didn’t notice him because he was looking into the fridge. He rummaged for
a while before finding what he was looking for and closed the door. There was a click of a tab on a
can being twisted open and then he twisted around. The drink was halfway to his mouth before he
stopped, spotting Kim Dokja.

Their understanding was joined by the fact that everyone was asleep and the need for quiet was
paramount to this encounter. Kim Namwoon stared at him for a moment before putting down the
unsipped can on the counter and opening a cupboard to his right. Taking out a glass he moved to
the fridge again, returning with a jug of water and filling the glass to the brim. He put both down
on the counter between them, a silent offering.

His hand twitched and he began walking over but Kim Namwoon didn’t wait. He sat on the sofa
with the can in hand like he had no intention of moving again.

Kim Dokja took a sip of water, before gulping down the rest in the way that cold water oddly tasted
more delicious only in the middle of the night. He was filling up a second glass before he knew it,
this time drinking slower as his thirst diminished.

It wasn’t until he finished the glass that he felt prickling on his neck. He turned his head and saw
Kim Namwoon looking at him, the space between his eyebrows creased slightly. For a split second
he thought Kim Namwoon had seen right through him and knew exactly what had happened. Kim
Dokja tensed.

But then the other simply raised his can up in the air in a mock toast before facing away. Kim
Dokja recognised the brand, a black coffee strong enough to make it clear Kim Namwoon wouldn’t
be sleeping anytime soon.

That should have been the full extent of their late night encounter. For some reason however Kim
Dokja paused at the doorway. He watched. Before long, thoughts about the other person he’d been
avoiding rose to the forefront of his mind.

His feelings about Kim Namwoon were complicated. He’d read as Kim Namwoon had adapted
sickeningly fast to the start of the apocalypse, a character with narrow-minded goals and selfish
intentions. The epitome of a shallow villain to-be, someone with irredeemable qualities and sins,
someone easy to hate.

Despite all this Yoo Joonghyuk had still chosen him as a companion. When he’d first read that,
Kim Dokja had to pause in reading the chapter. Even when it happened again and again and again,
regression turns blurring. Chosen, despite his inherent flaws.

Now here was that same Kim Namwoon, who had decided to spare the person causing his long
existence. He’d been there in the 999th round, he’d bled and fought and shed tears even with those
twisted morals.

Truth be told, this Kim Namwoon had acted differently from what he'd expected. As if someone
had come and fundamentally shook him to his core and he was still trying to figure out how the
pieces rearranged themselves to fit again.

It was in the way he sometimes silently stared off, thinking. The way he watched Lee Jihye at
times, eyebrows furrowed slightly. The way he gave Kim Dokja more space than the others did,
almost to the point of avoiding being alone with him in the same room.

Here was the individual who Kim Dokja most closely associated with what he perceived to be a
monster yet who tread so carefully around Kim Dokja as if not wanting to scare him.

It confused him.

Maybe that was what gave Kim Dokja the courage to step forward, pushing past that mutual wall
Kim Namwoon had helped build between them, each ignoring its presence.

Kim Namwoon had probably thought he’d gone back upstairs because his eyes widened when Kim
Dokja took the empty spot on the sofa next to him. His knees crossed awkwardly in the small gap,
almost touching the other’s. A singular question formed in his head. Right… he should begin with
this.

“Have you been avoiding me?” Kim Dokja’s voice was quiet and he looked down at his crossed
hands.

There was a long pause. Kim Dokja had expected it- his question was as sudden as it was painful to
acknowledge. Then soft metallic clicking of fingernails reverberated in the room at a fast pace.

Kim Namwoon’s words came out slowly, as if carefully being selected. “Sometimes I catch you
looking at me… it’s not like how you look at the others.”

He hadn’t been aware that he’d let those emotions show. He hadn’t expected Kim Namwoon of all
people to be able to pick up on it. Ashamed, he made an effort to meet the other’s eyes and said,
“Ah, I’m sorry.”

Kim Namwoon took another swig of the coffee and shrugged, “Don’t be. The stuff I did wasn’t
exactly all good, more so than them.”
Kim Dokja frowned, unease pooling into his stomach. The words felt like cutting losses. For Kim
Dokja it was an easy way out to keep on hating.

He hated how that made him feel, ugly and exposed.

“I hated you.”

The words escaped from Kim Dokja’s mouth before he could stop them. It felt like a weight off his
chest. And the rest unravelled from there, the tip of years of pent-up frustration.

“I didn’t think you deserved it. Why was it you that was saved each time, even after your past?
Why were you still able to stand by the others and smile even after everything you continued to do?
How is that fair?”

The world was unfair. Kim Dokja knew that better than anyone. But in the face of all that
unfairness, this little piece of it dug under his skin more than others for reasons he couldn’t
explain.

Kim Namwoon simply watched him, face unchanging. Kim Dokja gazed back, at that expression
filled with acceptance and something else. He opened his mouth once again and he saw the way
Kim Namwoon’s finger twitched. Kim Dokja wanted to say more, felt the negative words forming
right at the tip of his tongue. It would be so, so easy to just let them out but-

“But you’re different from what I read. And I don’t know how to feel about that.”

Kim Namwoon’s expression changed and Kim Dokja couldn’t read it anymore.

It wasn’t near enough words; it was a weighty confession.

And finally, because he was a reader at heart and he had never been able to receive answers to the
questions he had around Kim Namwoon, he said, “I want to understand why.”

Silence reigned in the room. Kim Namwoon looked away and gazed at the opposite wall. He let
out a huffed breath.

“That’s a pretty heavy thing to say kid.”

Kim Dokja waited.

“I’m not good with words,” Kim Namwoon added, dragging a hand through his messy hair.

Kim Dokja waited some more, because neither was he.

And finally, after the longest silence where they both sat there, the clock ticking past three, there
was this.

“Recently I met an ahjussi who made me question things. The 999th round, the scenarios… captain
and Lee Jihye. He could have easily killed me but he didn’t. I’m still trying to figure out my
thoughts around it all.”

To change him to this… that ahjussi must have been extraordinarily thoughtful and kind. Not like
Kim Dokja who had always been quick to scrutinise and judge.

“It made me wonder, at what point does it become too late to want to change?” Kim Namwoon
looked into the distance.
 So that was what was at the centre of his mind. It wasn’t a question Kim Namwoon was expecting
an answer to, especially not from someone like Kim Dokja. But he still replied, “I’m not sure… but
I want to see it.”

If a person could change, despite the past behind them. Especially the one next to him.

Kim Namwoon dropped his head and his hair that had grown past his ears covered his face. He
gave a short unexpected laugh before glancing at Kim Dokja, eyes glinting.

“You really are something you know.”

Kim Dokja didn’t fully understand what that meant so he kept silent, focusing on how the remnants
of the laugh somehow broke the chill in the room. Kim Namwoon lifted the can to take another sip,
bringing his bandaged arm into Kim Dokja’s direct line of sight. A sentence unburied itself in his
mind and something clicked into place.

When Kim Namwoon brought his arm down Kim Dokja mindlessly reached out. His fingers settled
lightly on the other’s upturned wrist, separated only by tightly wrapped layers of bandages,
acknowledging the hidden story that had been brushed past so many times. Kim Dokja wondered,
did monsters bleed too?

He started when it hit him that he had just overstepped and Kim Dokja jumped back hastily. “Ah,
I’m sorry.”

Complicated emotions flickered through Kim Namwoon’s eyes and he brought a hand up to ruffle
Kim Dokja’s hair. He let him, the weight of a hand on his head another distant memory.

Kim Namwoon shook his head as he did, “Kid, you’re going to be the death of me. Stop
apologising, would you?”

“Ah, I’m so-”

The words stopped dead in his throat when Kim Namwoon gave him a look. He hurriedly changed
the topic. “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

“Nope. Coffee’s in the system now. But you should get some rest.”

Kim Dokja didn’t feel like going back to his room, not when the nightmare was far at bay within
this moment. And because he felt Kim Namwoon had given a piece of himself to Kim Dokja, he
decided to ask, “Can I sleep here?”

Kim Namwoon simply stood up without asking a single question and bunched up the twisted
blanket on the sofa. Handing it to Kim Dokja, he took the other sofa and sat cross-legged on it. It
left Kim Dokja with plenty of space to curl up and lie down comfortably.

With another human being breathing in the same room and the faint hum of kitchen electronics,
Kim Dokja quickly ended up falling into a gentle slumber.

Neither noticed the tall shadow outside the doorway, a smaller figure perched on a shoulder, as it
slipped away.

Chapter End Notes

Kim Dokja's interaction with Kim Namwoon was something I found interesting. I
think Kim Namwoon would have changed after what he went through in the One
Single Story arc. There's also a lot of complicated one-sided history from Kim Dokja's
end as the Oldest Dream that I wanted to portray here...

But I hoped they would be able to find a middle ground and this is me writing that.
 longing

Lee Jihye complained to him one ordinary Thursday that she was getting sick of seeing Kim
Namwoon’s face everyday. Sitting on the edge of his bed, the only viable solution to this ‘very
serious problem’ she came up with was sneaking out of the house.

For some reason that involved needing to bring Kim Dokja too, although he didn’t have any
complaints. The novelty of pretending to escape when there was no danger in the first place was
surprisingly exciting.

When everyone was busy doing their own things she ushered him outside, her hand resting on his
shoulder. As the last one out, Lee Jihye had the role of carefully closing the door. Her eyes were
squinted in concentration as she tiptoed away slowly, making sure Kim Dokja was paying attention
to her hand gestures on where to avoid stepping. Kim Dokja found himself holding his breath as he
reached his hand out for the closed gate ahead.

A high pitched whistle rang out from somewhere above just as he pulled it towards himself. Kim
Dokja instinctively raised his head to find the source of the sound. He heard Lee Jihye swear under
her breath before she even looked up.

Leaning dangerously against the wide open window of his bedroom was none other than Kim
Namwoon.

His voice was incredulous as he whisper-shouted from the first floor, “What’s this? Am I
witnessing a kidnapping right now? Do I have to call the cops?” He paused dramatically. “Or
worse, Yoo Joonghyuk. Kid, blink if you’re being kidnapped.”

Kim Dokja blinked, less from the bizarreness of each consecutive statement than from simple
biological need.

Kim Namwoon mockingly gasped and grinned manically, “Lee Jihye, you criminal! Guess I’ll
have to come along, for protection and all.” He paused again, then added as an afterthought, “Or an
accomplice. Whatever works.”

Before Lee Jihye could stop him, he jumped from the window and landed deftly on his feet. Kim
Dokja’s heart fluttered with nerves just watching it. He was reminded that these were no ordinary
individuals even if they appeared so on the surface.

Kim Namwoon winked at him and Lee Jihye groaned, before she trudged away towards the
direction of the main street, abandoning any attempt at subtlety. Kim Namwoon turned to him and
gestured for Kim Dokja to go ahead first through the narrow gate. Kim Dokja gave a small nod of
thanks and ran to catch up to Lee Jihye’s long strides. She slowed down when she saw him, and
under her breath he heard her mutter, “When did you two get so close anyway?”

It was well past noon but the heat gave no sign of dissipating, clinging to people on the street.
They must have taken a different route from when he went out with Uriel because Kim Dokja
quickly lost any sense of direction he had. It seemed he didn’t need to worry about getting lost
however with how closely Kim Namwoon and Lee Jihye stuck to either side of him, eyes roaming
over the area as if on the lookout for trouble. Kim Dokja found himself easing and thought that
some habits developed from the scenarios were difficult to shake.

They eventually reached an area bustling with people walking in and out of a large building. Kim
Dokja looked down to avoid their eyes and focused on Lee Jihye’s converse shoes a step in front of
him. Individuals and groups walked past him busily, heading in all different directions with single-
minded focus.

In the periphery of his vision Kim Dokja glimpsed a symbol he recognised and his steps halted.

The world around him slowed to a crawl and people parted around him like a stream of bodies. The
symbol seared into his vision, and the sudden overwhelming feeling of having forgotten something
hit him. His breathing became irrationally loud in his ears and his thoughts became scattered. There
was something he was missing… an intrinsic need to do something that he’d been doing for a long
time. He swayed forward, taking a step, feeling like it would all be okay if he just returned there.

Sharp fingers dug into his shoulders and Kim Dokja blinked, time snapping back into place.

Lee Jihye was crouched in front of him, blocking his path. Kim Namwoon stood behind her, face
cold as an angry-looking man shouted, pointing at Kim Dokja. The man stormed off when Kim
Namwoon didn't react in the slightest, cursing the younger generation with colourful language.

Kim Dokja tried to focus his attention on the words coming out of Lee Jihye’s mouth instead.

“-at’s wrong?” Lee Jihye’s eyes were worried as she scanned his face. When he didn’t respond, she
quickly followed the angle of his body and looked back.

A complicated expression crossed her face when she saw the train station. Kim Dokja’s mouth
dried up. He knew what it must have seemed like yet couldn’t come up with an excuse fast
enough.

But then she stood up, gently holding Kim Dokja’s arm at the same time she blocked the prying
eyes of the people gathered around them. She called out to Kim Namwoon, and without waiting a
second more began cutting a path through the small crowd. Kim Dokja dug his fingernails into his
palm and lowered his head again, following in her footsteps once more.

After a short while of brisk walking in silence, Lee Jihye muttered it was too hot outside and
ducked into an ice-cream parlour. A dainty golden bell rang as the door opened and she sighed
when the air conditioning hit her. Kim Dokja shivered at the temperature drop, Kim Namwoon
looking unaffected by it all under the bandages peeking from his sleeves.

Although it had a traditional-looking exterior, the inside was refurbished with modern seating. It
wasn’t too busy despite the sweltering weather, perhaps because they had come at a lull in time
between noon and evening. They took the furthest corner booth offering a view of privacy and
seated Kim Dokja facing away from the rest of the shop floor.

A waitress greeted them once seated and handed the menus out, before she left with a quick nod of
the head. Kim Dokja gripped the edge of his seat, his fingers indenting into the material.

Kim Namwoon was the first to speak and Kim Dokja braced himself for the question.

“I’m having vanilla,” he declared.

It never came.

“That’s such a basic flavour,” Lee Jihye shot back, running a finger down the menu until she
stopped under the ‘Exotic Flavours’ section, “Get me a mango gelato.”

Kim Namwoon didn’t respond to the jab. “Right. Kid?”

They turned to him in unison and Kim Dokja dodged meeting their gazes by a millisecond, looking
down to stare at the menu. His hands moved to rest on the table as he read the menu. Some
flavours jumped out to him in their unusualness, like pomegranate and green tea sorbet. In the end
though he couldn’t decide, so he picked the safest option he knew, a luxury he’d only had enough
times to count on one hand.

“Chocolate.”

Lee Jihye replied, “Good choice. Cone or cup?”

Kim Dokja thought before answering, “Cone.”

She nodded and Kim Namwoon stood, mumbling under his breath, “So chocolate isn’t basic but
vanilla is?”

Lee Jihye moved to punch him on the arm but Kim Namwoon dodged just in time, smirking. She
rolled his eyes at him and he walked away towards the order counter at the front.

Kim Dokja keenly felt the absence of a third person and clenched his hands together under the
table.

At that moment a bell chimed and Kim Dokja turned without thinking. He watched as a group of
five teenagers strolled in, fanning their faces with their hands and grumbling about the heat. The
store instantly became louder with their laughs as they took a booth on the opposite end of the
store.

One of the girls spotted Kim Namwoon’s white hair and nudged her friend. If Kim Namwoon
noticed he didn’t let on, waiting for the person in front of him to finish paying.

When Kim Dokja twisted back around he paused, because Lee Jihye's gaze was fixed on that group
with unusual intensity.

It wasn’t exactly longing in her eyes, but a dull interest he recognised. As if viewing lives
completely different to herself, knowing they would never be the same and yet not being able to
fully look away either. Even so, he couldn’t help but want to ask…

“Do you miss it?”

It was only when Lee Jihye's attention shifted to him that Kim Dokja realised he’d blurted the
question out loud. Biting the inside of his cheek, he could only hurriedly go on to explain, “Your
life from before, I mean.”

She looked at him, her eyes kind as she replied, “Do you? When you moved towards that train
station?”

Kim Dokja’s eyes shook. “I wasn’t-”

“It's okay. I understand,” Lee Jihye said, returning to observing the group from before.

Kim Dokja hesitated. Was that all? Did she really just let go of the matter so simply?

And yet the words she’d said sounded sincere. Kim Dokja watched her watch other people, her
chin resting in her hand.

He didn’t expect her to speak so soon after that, but when she did he listened carefully. “You know,
it’s easy for a person to reach for things that feel familiar, because that’s all they’ve ever known.
Change is scarier. Knowing there’s no way back except forwards… lots of people died because
they couldn’t accept that when the scenarios first began.”

She pulled her gaze away from the group and began folding a tissue from a stack that was on the
table.

“But it doesn’t have to be that scary. Take Kim Namwoon. That guy, he isn’t as strong as he thinks
he is.” She glanced up and this time her eyes stayed at a point just over Kim Dokja’s right shoulder.
“But that’s okay. It’s okay to lean on each other if it ever feels like too much.”

On the table the square tissue slowly transformed into a swan. When Lee Jihye moved her hands
away from the finished piece it drooped, but didn’t completely collapse. Kim Dokja studied it, the
blunt wings and rounded edges.

Nothing she was saying was easy. After all, Kim Dokja hadn’t had anyone like that before. To start
now…

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he said instead.

His voice was hushed, but Kim Dokja knew she had heard him from the way her fingers tapped a
few times on the table in thought. After a minute that seemed to stretch on for far too long she
exhaled slowly.

“Okay. But only if you promise to remember what I said.”

Kim Dokja nodded. After all, remembering words was far easier than acting on them.

She smiled and began gathering the menus into a pile at the end of the table. He almost missed
what she murmured next, if not for the coincidental lull in background noises.

“Although I can’t guarantee he doesn’t already know.”

Her eyes flicked behind him and before he could nervously ask what that meant and more
importantly who she was referring to, Kim Namwoon had returned. He ruffled Kim Dokja’s hair on
the way back to his seat, leaving the conversation impossible to continue.

Lee Jihye pounced on the chance to deliver the delayed punch on his arm and this time Kim
Namwoon wasn’t fast enough to dodge it. He winced when she hit him, at the strength Kim Dokja
knew must have been packed behind it. Then the real squabble began, kicks traded beneath the
table and curses thrown to each other.

Kim Dokja shrunk to the corner in an attempt to avoid it. Even as he did however, he found his
shoulders relaxing as he watched them.

When the waitress arrived they quickly broke it off. Lee Jihye acted like there was nothing amiss
and thanked her, before the waitress had to quickly leave to attend to a newly arrived couple at a
table further away.

Turning back to the table, Lee Jihye took one look at the ice cream cones held in the spiral metal
holders and scowled.

She hissed, “Kim Namwoon, you idiot. How could you get the order wrong? You only had three
things to remember.”
Kim Dokja looked at the tray and saw that she was right- there were one chocolate and two mango
gelato cones instead of their three different flavours.

“I didn’t. I changed my own order,” Kim Namwoon stated.

Lee Jihye’s eyebrows rose in surprise, as if that was such an impossible thing to consider. Kim
Dokja thought he could somewhat understand the sentiment. She watched intently with expectation
in her eyes as Kim Namwoon took his cone, licking the bright yellow-orange scoop without
hesitation.

He immediately grimaced and said with a bewildered expression, “You like this? Vanilla is way
superior.”

Lee Jihye rolled her eyes, shoulders dropping in a way that said she should have expected the
disappointment. Taking her own cone into hand she dismissed his words easily, “You just don’t
have any taste.”

Whilst the two bickered about flavours and superior taste buds, Kim Dokja took the last cone on
the tray. Chocolate chips were scattered throughout, thick chocolate sauce drizzled on top and a
wafer stick poking out. He ate the stick first before licking the chocolate ice cream, the cold biting
into his tongue. The taste was a perfect balance, not extremely sweet but still deliciously rich.

As he ate his mind began drifting back to Lee Jihye’s words. He was reminded of talking with Kim
Namwoon that night, and thought her words strangely sounded like the other half of the
conversation they’d been having. He wondered, could it have been the answer Kim Namwoon had
been seeking? Or part of it at least?

As much as Lee Jihye pushed the other away, they had undeniably lived an eternity experiencing
things no one but the other could hope to understand. Watching them like this, Kim Dokja couldn’t
help but hope that one day they would somehow stumble across that conversation together.

Summer has always been an extreme Kim Dokja hated.

But at that moment sitting amongst them two, summer somehow felt less stifling. Like their
interactions were assurance enough that this feeling of unfamiliarity will surely pass.
 mistakes
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

That weekend Uriel and Lee Jihye took him to the bookstore.

Titles and authors he didn’t recognise flooded the new release section, and Kim Dokja quickly
became tired of how many similar storylines and romance-driven plots there were. They didn't bat
an eye when he returned to them at the front of the store empty-handed.

When they returned back to the house it was to more activity than usual. There was the sound of
something heavy being moved across the floor upstairs and Kim Dokja in his curiosity was
naturally drawn to it.

To his surprise, the source of it ended up being from none other than his own bedroom.

Kim Namwoon was leaning against the doorframe, blocking the view with his back. When he
spotted Kim Dokja approaching however he coughed lightly before swiftly moving away. It made
a clear path into the room and he saw Lee Hyunsung, who seemed to have just finished moving a
large cardboard box into one of the empty corners.

Kim Dokja stood next to Kim Namwoon, confused, as the other lamely stated, “Surprise.”

Lee Hyunsung huffed out a laugh and stepped out of the room to let Kim Dokja pass by. The
activity must have drawn everyone else’s attention as well because Uriel and Lee Jihye had
followed him upstairs. They all watched him, crowded in the doorway with similar faces that made
it apparent that they knew what was happening.

Kim Dokja walked forward, hand reaching out to the cardboard box taller than himself. He looked
back questioningly, but only Lee Jihye gave him a clue as she pointed a finger to one end of the
box. Kim Dokja’s eyes roved over it until he spotted the small white label on one of its sides. He
moved closer and crouched slightly so he was at the same level as it.

When he read the product name his eyes widened. His head snapped back to the group, heart
beating faster, not quite believing what everything so clearly pointed towards.

“It was Lee Hyunsung’s idea,” Uriel smiled.

Lee Hyunsung quickly added, “But think of it as a present from all of us.”

Kim Dokja blinked. A present.

But for what occasion?

Lee Hyunsung put a hand on his chin and contemplated, “If I start now… I could probably finish
assembling it before it gets dark… What do you say, Dokja-ya?”

Kim Dokja looked into those determined eyes, then back at the others eager gazes and encouraging
smiles.

He breathed out a quiet question. “Is that okay?”

Kim Namwoon’s eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn’t it be? It’s your room.”
Lee Jihye jabbed him in the side with an elbow, eyes widening in fake shock. “Wow, that’s the
first time you’ve said something right.”

Kim Namwoon protected his side from further attacks and hissed out, “Talk to me after you win
against me at Mario Kart.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault they changed the original game so much! Why the hell are there different
controls now?”

“You’re too old. Keep up with the times Lee Jihye,” Kim Namwoon drawled.

Her face froze over. “That’s it. Match. Now. First to three wins.”

Kim Namwoon grinned. “You're on.”

They raced down the corridor, leaving gaps in where they stood amongst the group just seconds
ago.

Uriel glanced at him then, a question in her eyes. He responded with a shake of his head, knowing
she probably had her own things to do. She nodded and spoke up, “I’ll be going too. Let me know
if you need me.”

Lee Hyunsung looked up from where he’d moved to kneel in the room, ripping away the tape
sealing the cardboard box. “Thank you.”

In the end Kim Dokja stood awkwardly at the door, not wanting to take up space in the room and
risk getting in the way. Lee hyunsung flattened the box and placed it to the side, revealing a stack
of bundled up white wooden shelves. He lifted a few of them and looked for something, before
stepping back.

After a while of further searching he said with a resigned expression, “I think I may have displaced
the instruction manual.”

There weren’t many places where one could lose an instruction manual in Kim Dokja’s room. A
quick look around confirmed just that and a dejected feeling filled his chest. “I don’t see it either.”

Lee Hyunsung turned back to Kim Dokja, hearing the disappointment in his voice. He smiled
reassuringly and said, “It’s fine. Sometimes life is like that. It may not be the easiest path but we
can make it work our own way.”

For the next half hour, Kim Dokja watched as Lee Hyunsung started to assemble the bookshelf.
Even without a manual he was calm and decisive, screwing things into place and muttering
thoughts under his breath. From time to time Lee Jihye and Kim Namwoon’s voices drifted
upstairs, incredulous and loud. But what Kim Dokja paid attention to most was the way Lee
Hyunsung worked, slow but steady.

It was when Lee Hyunsung was positioning a shelf into place that he accidentally knocked the
shelf support out. Momentarily trapped in holding it in place, he paused and looked down,
attempting to find where it had dropped.

Kim Dokja, who had been watching with keen eyes the whole time, had caught the moment it
rolled underneath his bed. He moved before he could think, crouching to look underneath and
finding it near one of the legs.

He handed it back to Lee Hyunsung, who smiled. “Thank you.”

Kim Dokja nodded and turned to go back to his spot by the doorway when Lee Hyunsung spoke up
again.

“Actually, do you think you can help with giving a hand here as well?”

And it was only then that Kim Dokja realised he’d been waiting for this, to be relied on, to be of
any help.

The next hour passed smoothly, Lee Hyunsung and Kim Dokja working in tandem. Lee Hyunsung
did all the heavy lifting and positioning but allowed Kim Dokja to use the screwdriver for fixings
and choosing the height for each shelf.

A few times they made mistakes but as Lee Hyunsung repeatedly explained, it was completely
fine. All they had to do was retrace their steps and correct them. It was much easier to move past a
mistake after the first time, when Kim Dokja had accidentally counted the holes between two
shelves incorrectly and they’d only realised afterwards.

They managed to finish just before dark, earlier than planned despite the problems along the way.

Kim Dokja breathed in the earthy smell of new wood filling the room, stepping back to appreciate
the way the new space felt.

Next to him, Lee Hyunsung held out a hand up in a high-five and declared proudly, “We work well
as a team.”

Kim Dokja stared at that hand before jolting forward to return it. His hand was small against the
other man’s as they momentarily met.

“So, what do you think?”

Kim Dokja nodded earnestly. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Lee Hyunsung beamed. “Now the room feels more like yours. Well, except for the mess.”

He took the flat packed cardboard box leaning against the wall and bunched up the bubble wrap
strewn around the room. With the tools in his other hand he moved towards the door.

“I’ll take these down and see you in a while.”

After he left Kim Dokja’s eyes naturally drew back to the new bookshelf.

Now that he was all alone, the empty shelves seemed to be staring back at him. Kim Dokja found it
unnerving so he turned and went to his wardrobe.

At the bottom of it sat his school backpack that he’d been carrying the day the others had found
him, untouched until now. He took it out and unzipped it, the tattered and worn fabric rough
against his fingertips.

The familiar notebook sat comfortably inside. It was full of things other than the school notes it
should have been holding, collated over months worth of tedious days. Kim Dokja placed it on the
middle shelf, right at the end to break up the illusion of empty blocks of white. A placeholder for
when he was ready, like Uriel had said, confident that no one else would try to read it.

And after everything, it did end up feeling more like the idea of home, knowing the time and effort
that went into building this little corner that he could call his.
Chapter End Notes

Shorter chapter than usual but there will be a longer one to make up for it, I promise.

Thank you for all the kudos and comments, it's great to see the support so far! As
always, see you in the next chapter :)
 silence

It happened over the course of a week.

After all was said and done, they had far too many differences and entangled histories to continue
living comfortably under the same roof.

Uriel was the first to move out, the sudden news that she had found a nearby studio flat declared
over dinner. Lee Hyunsung followed in her steps with finding his own place, this time giving the
others a few days' notice. Lee Jihye and Kim Namwoon were the last to leave on a Saturday
afternoon, deciding to share a place and split the cost.

With little enough to fit a small bag, each farewell was less grandeur of a ceremony than the norm.
A hand on his head, a pat on his shoulder, a fleeting hug. The last reminder they had been there at
all was the click of the door as it closed softly shut behind them. Sitting on the third step of the
stairs each time, it made Kim Dokja feel as if they had simply left on an errand rather than having
left permanently.

What was different most of all was the silence.

Kim Dokja used to dream of silence like this. He’d imagined it as a peaceful void of emptiness.

But now the absence of the sounds he had become so used to was jarring.

Uriel as she hummed in the morning when watering the flowers in vases scattered around the
house. Lee Hyunsung’s heavy steps on the floorboards as he moved about when deep in thought.
Lee Jihye’s flippant remarks and Kim Namwoon’s defensive retorts over the smallest of things.

“It’s quiet.”

He didn’t realise he’d spoken, until Yoo Joonghyuk looked at Kim Dokja.

It was like staring into a depthless void, so Kim Dokja silently stood up and retreated upstairs.

The next day, Kim Dokja explored the house in its new emptiness, familiarising himself with
unknown rooms and corridors that were previously occupied. His hands trailed the wall like the
first day he’d arrived there, using his steps as a way of measurement.

He found the stairs had fifteen steps. Lee Jihye’s old room was eighteen steps wide and twenty-
three steps long. His eyes lingered on the bare bed stripped of covers, before he headed to the next
room and repeated the process.

Slowly but steadily he mapped the entire second floor.

He arrived at the ajar door next to his own bedroom last- the now only other occupied room- and
skipped past it without a glance.

When he got to the kitchen he had to stop, because Yoo Joonghyuk was cutting a large
watermelon.

Kim Dokja chose to observe this instead and sat on the sofa in front of a running fan just as Yoo
Joonghyuk finished slicing it into long strips. He split them between two plates and cleaned up the
fallen juice on the counter with a paper towel, before walking over to hand one plate to Kim Dokja.
He didn’t linger nearby, heading to the open garden door where he sat on the shaded patio instead.

A lot of their days went by like that. It was a languid luxury where time seemed to stretch on
forever, but Kim Dokja undoubtedly spent most of it observing and thinking.

One weekday, he realised that the fridge and cupboard were somehow always fully stocked- not
only with ingredients clearly for Yoo Joonghyuk’s use, but with things that he couldn’t group into
one explanation. Desserts, snacks, refreshments, meals, a variety of fruit... anything Kim Dokja
could think of would be there in some sort of shape or form.

Sometimes there would be a jug of freshly made milkshake in the fridge that helped fend off the
never-ending summer heat. Almost always, there was a broad selection of ice cream that awaited
him, from whole tubs to individual lollies. Most of the fridge itself was full with pre-cut fruit and
boxed food. As the days passed, the things Kim Dokja hadn’t touched or didn’t like ended up
disappearing completely, replaced by entirely new selections. It happened so often to the point that
he became convinced the house was sentient and somehow tailoring its selection to his taste.

In the span of a few summer weeks, Kim Dokja tried more things than he ever had in his lifetime.

How Yoo Joonghyuk had the time to make so many things, he wasn’t sure. Kim Dokja often
spotted him in the garden, tending to the well-kept flowers and large fruit and vegetable patch
seemingly left by the previous owner of the house. Other times Yoo Joonghyuk would be cooking
meals and cleaning in a way that threw Kim Dokja off completely. During evenings, he simply sat
on the sofa and drank tea made from high quality-looking leaves, before it was eventually time to
go to sleep. On more rare occasions Yoo Joonghyuk would even bring his sword down from his
room and quietly clean it with attentive eyes and careful hands.

Within those days Kim Dokja often ended up thinking the same thing, like a perpetual circle he
couldn’t avoid.

The book he had been reading his whole life had impossibly become true. The protagonist was
right in front of him.

The story told him of Yoo Joonghyuk the regressor.

The story did not tell him what happened after, when there were no more regressions.

So from time to time, Kim Dokja tried to grasp at pieces of information in his memory that may
give him an understanding of this side of Yoo Joonghyuk. Tried to rationalise his behaviour and
actions, of why he hadn't killed him like that monster in the train station had wanted to, when he
had the most reasons to do so.

Kim Dokja would again remember those eyes filled with loathing and despair, and wonder if it had
been right for him to be saved.

On sleepless nights, he tried to understand why the little pieces of information he had managed to
clump together didn’t hold a flame to the real Yoo Joonghyuk. Why, after having read such a
lengthy novel he was still an unknowable existence, an untouchable wall, a distance he didn’t know
how to cross.

Some days the others visited and brought him new things to try, told him stories of their lives being
built beyond those four walls. Whilst Kim Dokja held onto each precious word, their lively
expressions and movements, he couldn't help the nagging feeling of answers left unfulfilled, of the
one person he couldn’t seem to reach after all this time, even as the others slowly edged closer.
He didn’t tell them how he had only just become accustomed to their presence such that their
absence had left him struggling to adapt again. It affected him in more ways than one, in the times
when he sometimes turned his head and expected them to be there in the now too many seats in the
house, the way he reached for extra plates at dinner, and most of all at night, when the house
settled into the almost deadliest refinement of silence itself.

The truth was Kim Dokja had never particularly liked change. It often felt like loss more than
anything, because change demanded sacrifice of something else for it to happen. And Kim Dokja
most often was the one who gave and gave, hoping for change to come into the worst bits of his
life. It never did.
 distance

In hindsight, maybe something needed to break for both of them to make that first stumbling step
forward.
 choices
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Kim Dokja cradled a glass against his lap and took a small sip. Over the last half hour the water
had warmed in his hands and the taste was now close to being unpleasant. He turned to look at the
garden doors reflecting the kitchen space, resting his eyes on the duller shapes and shadows.

Behind him Yoo Joonghyuk washed the dinner dishes, a muted backdrop of clinking glasses and
plates. Kim Dokja had wanted to offer his help, but when he got close the words had lodged in his
throat, leaving him to retreat to the sofa instead. He still wasn’t quite sure how to initiate a
conversation with the other individual.

Perhaps it should have been no surprise that it was then that the last few days finally caught up to
Kim Dokja, a tide that had been steadily lapping against his ankle. Avoidance had a tendency to
strike back with its repercussions at traitorous times.

It began when he moved his head around too much, a dull throb at his temple. The spotlights were
too harsh, glaringly white, and he felt the pull of exhaustion on his thoughts. Not wanting to bring
attention to himself, he tried to remain sitting still and upright. The warm blanket bunched
underneath him however made it difficult with its lulling temptation to just lie down.

He didn’t notice as the shadows in the room creeped into the periphery of his vision. They blurred
into one and gradually dulled his senses. His limbs slowly began to weigh heavily on him until he
couldn't hold up his head anymore. Leaning back to rest against the seat was instinctual and within
seconds, his eyelids fluttered closed unconsciously.

Kim Dokja found himself enshrouded in a complete darkness, a familiar and sweeping blanket of
security that greeted him like a long lost friend. He knew he shouldn’t trust it, but even so couldn’t
stop as his shoulders relaxed, memories of another place surfacing. His body felt impossibly light,
thoughts syrupy slow and breaths warm in the infinite space. The low hum of a train as it gently
rolled over non-existent tracks filled his ears- uninterrupted, soothing, like any other day spent
perpetually alone.

Kim Dokja thought, if the epilogue of his own story amounted to this, a peaceful solitude he could
forever live in, he wouldn’t particularly mind. After all, it was far less scary to dream for eternity
like this than try to live within a dream he didn’t know anything about.

Crash.

Kim Dokja jumped and his eyes snapped open.

For a minute he sat there, disorientated between two distinct places. A sharp ringing sound echoed
in his ears until it faded away, a devastating silence left in its wake.

At first, Kim Dokja didn’t understand.

And then, like a wall slamming into him, he did.

“Ah, ah…”

His body caught on quicker than his mind, and he scrambled off the sofa. In his hastiness he didn’t
bother checking where it was safe to step. He hurriedly crouched, puddled water spreading rapidly
towards him as he picked up the jagged shard near his foot first and held it within his other palm.
He reached for the next nearest one, hand beginning to tremble-

“Kim Dokja.”

He froze at hearing his full name.

Years worth of countless memories flashed through his head. It was enough to snap him from his
daze-like movements. His pupils dilated and he finally glanced around, taking in the full extent of
the situation.

The mess was unsalvageable.

It hit him like the jagged pieces of broken glass on the floor, cut into him like the steadily dripping
blood from his right hand.

“I’m sorry.”

The words come out as a choked breath.

He only meant to say it once. To not draw more attention than that, to hope it’d be enough. But
saying it once had never been enough. Neither had twice or three times or even dozens… but the
cruel thing about hope was that it made one dream it could be.

And Kim Dokja, as a child, had dreamed of his release from this particular type of suffering more
times than he could count.

The words spilled over his lips in place of tears, frantic whispers that attempted to soften the blow
of what came next. If Kim Dokja had learnt anything, it was that tears only aggravated his father
more and made his raw wounds sting.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“

By the end he was gasping the words. He doesn’t want to look up, at disdained eyes, at the anger
behind a solid fist. So he stayed in place like that, curling his arms protectively over his head as he
watched the floor for any sudden movements.

It didn't take long until he heard footsteps. They were careful, slow, navigating across the floor to
avoid treading on any glass fragments. Kim Dokja tensed. He has only ever been familiar with
heavy, careless steps made in the shortest path to him.

They stopped right in front of him. The figure crouched to his level, blocking out everything else.

“Kim Dokja, look at me.”

The voice was firm. Calm. It was completely at odds with everything he has ever learnt given his
past mistakes that Kim Dokja looked up, blinking at the command that against all reason sounded
gentle .

Yoo Joonghyuk's expression was the same as it always was. There was no anger, no blame or hate
in those dark eyes. They bared into his own, a focal point amongst all the chaotic thoughts.

Slowly he said, “Breathe.”

Like a drowning person holding onto a lifeline, Kim Dokja turned his attention inwards. His chest
shuddered from fast inhales and stuttered attempts to suck in air. His erratic breathing became the
forefront of everything, painfully loud in his ears.

Breathe, breathe. Breathe?

How?

Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand reached forward and Kim Dokja’s eyes skittered to it, instinctively tensing
again. The hand halted mid-air between them.

It was because of this that Kim Dokja noticed the small cluster of soap suds still sitting on the
other’s raised wrist.

It was so odd, so out of place within the moment that Kim Dokja couldn’t help but stare. Before
panic could overtake everything beyond control, he fixated on it with an almost frightening
intensity and tried to follow the instruction again.

With his lungs burning and heart pounding, he let the simple word wash over him like a mantra.

A breath in. Out. In, out. In and out.

He couldn’t tell how long it took until each breath became easier than the last and his chest didn’t
feel as tight.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was able to calm down like this without needing to
desperately repeat that he was someone else.

Yoo Joonghyuk watched. “Good. Now let it go.”

Let it go.

Kim Dokja blinked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Let what go?

He glanced down, only to dimly realise he was grasping onto something.

That however brought into direct view the bloodied mess of his right hand.

Kim Dokja startled at the sight he hadn’t seen in a long time. He rocked back instinctively as if he
could escape from it and dropped the glass shard from his hand. It skidded across the floor, leaving
a streaked path of blood in its wake. Like a puppet cut from its strings, he felt all the energy drain
from his body and slumped forward.

Yoo Joonghyuk caught him before he could crumple to the floor. Kim Dokja squeezed his eyes
closed, trying to erase the sight of the injury that had for once not been inflicted by another.

He felt as Yoo Joonghyuk lifted him up gently and carried him in his arms. His footsteps were
steady as he manoeuvred across the floor. Kim Dokja wanted to remain like that, but worried that
the blood would ruin the other’s clothes, he forced himself to open his eyes.

Yoo Joonghyuk placed Kim Dokja on the edge of the kitchen counter, sitting safely away from the
ground. Cupping his left hand underneath the injury, he silently watched as Yoo Joonghyuk opened
a cupboard just right of his head. From it he pulled out a nondescript box and unlatched it,
revealing various first aid supplies neatly organised inside. Kim Dokja saw him taking out sterile
wipes and gauze bandage, tearing them open before turning back.

Kim Dokja didn’t realise he was already extending his injured hand out, until Yoo Joonghyuk
reached for it. At their touching skin a droplet of blood ran onto the other’s hand, but Yoo
Joonghyuk remained unfazed by it.

One more time, Kim Dokja exhaustingly attempted to understand. Thoughts messy, he tried to read
the lines behind the actions, the expressions, this entire unknowable being. However, the same
way as many times before, he quickly found himself struggling.

And so he tried something else, something he had lost interest in doing over the years as his life
greyed and diminished, his viewpoint narrowing to the pinpoint he dictated necessitated life.
Something he found himself doing more frequently these last few weeks than ever before when it
came to a single individual.

He simply observed.

Yoo Joonghyuk was methodical and meticulous. He applied neither too much nor too less pressure.
It stung slightly as the blood was wiped away. The marble counter bit cold against Kim Dokja’s
legs but Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands were warm against his. The cut ran from the base of his palm and
curled around the flesh of his thumb. The bloodied wipes collected in a pile on the side. Yoo
Joonghyuk’s figure in front of him created a shadow to shield against everything behind.

And finally amongst these overlapping strings of information, what most interested Kim Dokja was
this.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands were rough from his scars as he finished wrapping the bandage around.
Kim Dokja found himself staring at them, a harsher version of the faded cuts on his own. He
mapped out those waters with his eyes, watching a particularly long one carved across the back of
his hand slither to underneath his sleeve. That one was uncharted, never forgotten, but rarely seen
by anyone other than the person themself.

“Why?”

Kim Dokja’s voice was quiet, tired. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was asking. Because here he
was being treated as an equal rather than a burden.

It didn’t matter though. Yoo Joonghyuk, when faced with such a bottomless question, answered
this.

“Do you know how many times I have regressed?”

His eyebrows furrowed. It was not a test but rather a reminder.

Of course Kim Dokja knew. How could he not?

“1863,” Kim Dokja replied.

Yoo Joonghyuk nodded, looking him in the eyes.

“1863 lifetimes. Along the way I sometimes forgot how easily it was to get hurt. I ended up losing
track of how I got each injury. After all, I’ve always believed a person is worth far more than the
sum of their scars.”

Kim Dokja scrutinised his own hands, only to find it a blur of memories- aside from a few, he
couldn’t remember when and how he’d got most of his own.

“That isn’t to say they are worth nothing. Each scar holds its own story. I won’t pretend to know
yours and neither can I understand what pain you must have gone through. But Dokja, know this.”
Yoo Joonghyuk paused.

“The scars of your existence are not yours to bear alone.”

Kim Dokja’s shoulders shook and he gripped the counter, even as pain flared from his right hand.
Thoughts that had been suffocating him for weeks emerged, words tumbling from his lips and he
immediately denied, “B-But I’m the Oldest Dream. You saw it, that day, I’m the reason for all
your suffering, all those years, I’m the one-”

“Were,” Yoo Joonghyuk cut in.

Kim Dokja stilled.

Yoo Joonghyuk stared back at him, head tilting as his eyes caught a silver of reflected light. Those
eyes- why had Kim Dokja ever thought they were so emotionless and unchanging?

“Have you forgotten? You were the Oldest Dream. You are no longer constrained by that title.”

Kim Dokja’s breath hitched.

Deep down, a part of him had known. The moments he had found himself unconsciously drifting
back to that place wasn’t because it called to him like when he was trapped within its lengthy
dream.

No, this time was different- it was because of a longing for the comforting familiarity it gave him,
even as a part of him feared wanting such a thing.

Ah. Was forgiveness so simple? Did he deserve it?

Yoo Joonghyuk continued, “Equally, my ■■ is the Oldest Dream. Does that not mean I still chose
to stay here all this time, despite you no longer being that existence?”

This, Kim Dokja could never have expected. All the counter-arguments that had been piling up in
his mind crumbled under those unyielding words.

He had only ever wondered why Yoo Joonghyuk had saved him that day.

He hadn't ever questioned why Yoo Joonghyuk had stayed.

Two intertwined questions and yet-

Whilst he was plagued by his past actions, Yoo Joonghyuk was trying to live beyond that. Kim
Dokja hadn’t ever considered that for the other person, staying had been a conscious choice as
much as saving him had been.

It was in a way, Kim Dokja thought, a sort of narrow-minded belief that he didn't deserve to be
here, when Yoo Joonghyuk had from the very beginning undeniably accepted his presence. Wasn’t
that what the quietly delivered bag on his bed that very first day had tried to tell him?

Kim Dokja didn’t realise he had closed his eyes again until he felt a hand rest on his forehead. He
forced them open to see Yoo Joonghyuk observing him with furrowed eyebrows.

Yoo Joonghyuk dropped his hand and Kim Dokja felt the sudden loss of its cool touch. He leaned
away to open another cupboard nearby, pulling out a medicine box that he quickly scanned the
back of, before taking out a single tablet. Kim Dokja watched him walk to the sink and fill a glass
with water before coming back to hand both over.

His suspicions were confirmed when Yoo Joonghyuk said, “You have a fever.”

Hearing Yoo Joonghyuk confirm it only made it worse however, because Kim Dokja became
keenly aware of every painfully obvious sign he’d chosen to ignore.

He took the glass of water and small white tablet, gripping it with his non-injured hand. And
although Kim Dokja had long since become used to swallowing it dry, he made sure to gulp down
all the water straight after.

Yoo Joonghyuk was there to take the empty glass from him, placing it into the sink with the
remaining dishes which had been abandoned half-way through. He moved on to disposing of the
bloody wipes next with a passive indifference that made Kim Dokja’s heart feel less heavy.

For some reason, watching the other made Lee Jihye’s voice ring out in Kim Dokja’s mind.

It’s okay to lean on each other if ever feels like too much.

Within that moment, he had unintentionally kept his promise to remember her words. He didn’t
have to do anything else apart from remembering them. After all, remembering words was far
easier than acting on them.

But then he recalled Lee Jihye’s expression as she told him about Kim Namwoon at the ice-cream
parlour, and Kim Namwoon’s voice as he asked a lone question beyond midnight.

Kim Dokja swallowed the lump in his throat and loosened his clenched hands. Staring at a random
point on the opposite wall, he confessed what he’d been hiding for a while now, “I.. haven’t been
able to sleep lately.”

In the periphery of his vision, Yoo Joonghyuk turned to look at him from putting the first aid
supplies away. And despite telling himself not to, Kim Dokja couldn’t help but abandon looking at
that spot on the wall in favour of seeking the other.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes were non-judgemental. His whole attention was on Kim Dokja again, yet
not in an overwhelming way. It gave him the courage to continue.

“Whenever I try to, I end up remembering…”

Yoo Joonghyuk waited patiently, but Kim Dokja wasn’t sure how to capture the intensity of it all.
That day, his feelings, memories.

So he settled for, “...everything.”

Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t reply straight away. The sentence hung heavy in the air. Seconds turned
into a minute, then two, three- and Kim Dokja continued counting time, because he knew there
wasn’t an easy answer for what he had said.

But then the long silence was broken by a calm question, spoken as normally as anything else.

“Would you like me to stay with you?”

Surprise pierced through layers of drowsiness and Kim Dokja let his head drop to his chest. His
bandaged hand came into view, the pristine whiteness of the material stark against his fevered skin.
Kim Dokja traced around the edges of the carefully layered folds with his finger, until he stopped
 at the tiny knot where it had been neatly tied off.

The words were unexpected coming from Yoo Joonghyuk… but he found the idea was not
something he hated. Somehow Kim Dokja managed to whisper out a tired, “Okay.”

Yoo Joonghyuk left what he was doing to walk back and pick him up from the counter. Kim Dokja
let his head rest heavily on Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder and linked his arms loosely around the
other’s neck so they wouldn’t hang awkwardly, too fatigued to do anything else.

The last glimpse he had of the kitchen was as Yoo Joonghyuk carried him up the stairs, his
footsteps a slow and steady rhythm. In his feverish thoughts he saw fallen stars glimmering on the
floor, a beautiful mimicry of the night sky splayed within the confines of a room. Then Kim Dokja
didn’t even have the strength left to keep his eyes open.

He could tell the moment he was gently placed on his bed and covered with the blanket. He was
aware when the lights clicked softly shut. He knew there was a person who remained in the room
even after that.

And ah , Kim Dokja realised that he had forgotten such a simple thing; Though the house had
become significantly quieter, there was still one constant presence there.

It was enough to tether his thoughts. With the medicine kicking in and blood pulsing warmly in his
veins, his body eventually eased into a deep, dreamless slumber.

At one point in time, Kim Dokja stirred from his sleep. In the dim moonlight he dazedly thought he
saw Yoo Joonghyuk sitting next to the bed, except for some strange reason he was wearing an
eyepatch. The figure reached a hand forward and gently stroked Kim Dokja’s hair, fingers
soothingly passing through strands repeatedly, until Kim Dokja slipped into sleep once again.

Chapter End Notes

The long awaited chapter...

Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk have finally started making progress forward.
 betrayal

Recovery was slow but steady.

It took a few days, but Yoo Joonghyuk made sure Kim Dokja didn't overexert himself and drank
plenty of water. He ate chicken soup when his appetite all but went, and stayed covered in blankets
when he couldn’t stop shivering. Yoo Joonghyuk stayed nearby during the nights such that there
was a temporary chair positioned in the room, and Kim Dokja slept better for it.

By the fourth day, the fever had broken. Kim Dokja woke up, relieved when he found no awaiting
headache or trembling bones. For a moment he let himself lie there and listened to the birds
chirping outside, the sun shining into the room through the half-opened curtains.

It should have been hot in his room, but it seemed the newly installed air conditioning had been left
on throughout the night. Kim Dokja turned his head to the clock near his wardrobe and saw it was
past one in the afternoon, just as his stomach indignantly rumbled. He decided to have a quick
shower first to get rid of the clinging feeling of sickness.

Twisting the temperature dial to the cold marking, he let the water wash the last few days off his
skin. He felt more refreshed and clear-headed after he was done and then he headed downstairs to
look for something to eat.

Yoo Joonghyuk had probably made fresh lunch for him but upon seeing the basket of fruit at the
table, Kim Dokja went to grab an apple instead. His stomach still felt a bit uneasy from eating less
whilst ill and his appetite wasn’t fully back yet.

He moved to stand at the open double doors leading out to the garden, eyes roving over the open
patch of greenery. The summer sun fell harshly on the surroundings and the plants had been
watered recently, the smell of wet earth strong in the air. A slight breeze brushed against Kim
Dokja’s still wet nape, his hair already drying in the hotter space.

It didn’t take long for him to find the figure crouched near a plant, menacing-looking red things
growing from its stems.

Yoo Joonghyuk was turned partially away, so he didn’t see Kim Dokja standing there- which was
perfectly fine because he was content to watch the other like this.

As absurd as it seemed, perhaps gardening was an old hobby of Yoo Joonghyuk’s because he
looked like he knew what he was doing. Some of the tomatoes were ripe and shiny and Yoo
Joonghyuk carefully plucked those off, placing them into a nearby bowl. With shears he snipped
off some leaves at the bottom, until the remaining plant looked noticeably less crowded.

Kim Dokja’s interest fell short here regarding the well-being of such an unpleasant plant, so he
turned his full attention to the individual instead.

Yoo Joonghyuk was halfway under the shade of a cherry blossom tree growing at the back of the
garden. Sunlight hit part of his figure, casting shadows on the sharp panes of his face as his black
hair shifted gently in the breeze. Despite the weather he still wore black, seemingly unbothered by
the heat. His expression was calm as he worked and there was a determination in his eyes that
made Kim Dokja pause.

It would have been a perfectly complete image- if a cherry blossom didn’t then fall onto the back
of his head. Kim Dokja stared at it, the bright pink petals startling against the black curls. Yoo
Joonghyuk didn’t notice.

Kim Dokja rolled the apple between his hands idly and mumbled something to himself. He bit into
it, the juice sweetening his mouth and waited to see if a gust of wind would throw the small flower
away like some sort of game.

Bang.

Kim Dokja startled at a loud sound behind him. A muffled curse followed as he spun around, alarm
bells ringing in his ears and heart thundering in his chest.

He nearly choked on the bite of apple in his mouth at what he saw.

Two kkomas looking identical to Yoo Joonghyuk lay fallen on the floor near the dining table,
staring at Kim Dokja with sharp eyes.

Kim Dokja coughed and pounded on his chest, thoughts stuttering to a halt.

After a few seconds of eye contact, the kkomas both sat up in unison and dusted off their clothes
unhurriedly. They began talking between themselves as Kim Dokja’s eyes watered and he finally
stopped coughing enough to take in a deep inhale.

“Look at what you did. You nearly made the fool choke.”

“Don’t call him that. He’s not that fool.”

“But look, they have the same hopeless expression.”

“Stop speaking nonsense, they are clearly different. Rather, it is too late to hide now.”

One of them walked forward, a familiar black coat billowing behind him. On closer inspection
Kim Dokja saw he was wearing a white label with the number [81] written neatly on it. He reached
Kim Dokja’s foot and craned his neck back to look up expectantly.

“…”

Kim Dokja was still struggling to process what exactly he was witnessing. For now though he
could only listen to the demand of this kkoma, so he crouched down and reached a hesitant hand
out.

The kkoma climbed onto it with no struggle and grabbed onto his pinky with a strong grip that was
at odds with his tiny figure. Kim Dokja then carefully stood up, fearing he’d somehow do
something wrong and end up incurring the wrath of a small Yoo Joonghyuk.

When Kim Dokja brought him to shoulder height, the kkoma leaned forward to peer closely at his
face. He shook his head at what he saw and said determinedly, “As I thought, he has lost weight.
This is a failure I am not willing to accept.”

The other kkoma- Kim Dokja noted that one was labelled [666]- scoffed and said, “Of course. He
hardly ate anything we put in front of him. The fact he picked up that apple himself is a miracle
alone.”

They continued to talk, criticising Kim Dokja and his poor diet whilst he stood right in front of
them with an apple in hand that he had been in the middle of eating until just now, when he’d
nearly choked on it because of two mini-sized Yoo Joonghyuks.
…He must have still had a fever.

Amidst the hundreds of questions that came to mind, Kim Dokja tentatively asked the most rational
first, “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

To his surprise though it wasn’t either of the two kkomas who answered.

“They are my dependents. Although now only a few remain.”

Kim Dokja peered backwards, despair evident on his face as a third, normal sized Yoo Joonghyuk
stepped into the room from the garden. He stopped beside Kim Dokja and folded his arms as he
looked down.

Kim Dokja dazedly noticed that the cherry blossom that had been sitting in his hair was still there,
trapped under a curled strand. If he had any doubts before, this small observation would have been
enough to tell that this was indeed the Yoo Joonghyuk he knew. To prevent himself from going
crazy, he mentally decided to refer to the other Yoo Joonghyuks- the ‘dependents’- as kkoma [81]
and kkoma [666].

“I thought I told you to stay hidden,” Yoo Joonghyuk said.

The kkoma [81] on Kim Dokja’s hand climbed up his clothes, trying to gain higher ground to meet
the other’s gaze, until he silently stood on his shoulder. Yoo Joonghyuk watched this defiant act
before turning to kkoma [666], who had his arms crossed tightly from where he stood on the floor.

Neither kkoma replied to Yoo Joonghyuk. His eyes flicked between the two for a while before he
stated, “This was a deliberate act.”

There was no question behind those words, no space for doubt or misunderstanding. Kim Dokja
felt like he was witnessing a sentence being handed to criminals. And here he was, harbouring one
of those said criminals on his shoulder.

The two kkomas however didn’t flinch at the accusation. Kkoma [81] said, “We can’t stay hidden
forever. He would have noticed something amiss sooner or later. There is also more use to our
presence being known than simply watching from the shadows.”

Kkoma [666] chipped in, “We are well aware of the consequences of our actions and are prepared
to accept them.”

The two kkomas stared at Yoo Joonghyuk, each gaze unwavering. Kim Dokja felt an immense
pressure build in the room and his hands started becoming clammy.

It was Yoo Joonghyuk who broke the moment first. He silently turned away and stepped back out
into the garden.

Kim Dokja let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, shoulders dropping in relief.
Secretly he had been on the kkomas’ side, if only so that he could ask more questions. The kkoma
[81] must have sensed this because he flicked a knowing look to Kim Dokja.

Just before Yoo Joonghyuk moved completely out of their collective views, he abruptly stopped in
his steps and craned his head back. At the sudden movement the cherry blossom in his hair finally
dislodged itself and drifted down, drawing Kim Dokja’s eye. He ended up distracted by its slow
descent, almost hypnotising in its gentle motion.

He missed the lingering look that passed between the kkomas and Yoo Joonghyuk as the latter
said, “Then protect him, no matter the cost.”

And then Yoo Joonghyuk left as suddenly as he came.

Kim Dokja snapped back to the moment. He was puzzled by what the words meant, but more
pressing questions were already dawning on his mind. He twisted his head towards kkoma [81] on
his shoulder and asked, “How many of you are there?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

At the non-answer Kim Dokja wildly imagined a room filled with small Yoo Joonghyuks, and felt
the need to sit down.

“Why are you so small?”

“That isn’t relevant,” kkoma [666] dismissed.

Not discouraged by that response either, Kim Dokja continued to ask questions.

“What did you mean earlier when you said I would have noticed something amiss sooner or later?”

Kkoma [81] narrowed his eyes. “You are an inquisitive child. Very well, it cannot be helped.” He
sat down on Kim Dokja’s shoulder, dangling his legs off the edge and asked, “You mean to say
you haven't noticed anything strange?”

Kim Dokja thought back. It took him a minute but his thoughts began weaving together in his head,
until something clicked. He suddenly recalled the strangely full cupboards stocked with items that
constantly changed, inevitably untouched by anyone other than himself. Which meant…

“You’ve been watching me this whole time?”

Kkoma [81] shook his head. “Not quite. There is only one Yoo Joonghyuk who has that task
assigned to him. He only does so when there is concern for your safety.”

Kkoma [666] jumped into the conversation and took out a sword from somewhere underneath his
coat, directing it towards Kim Dokja. “You are far too reckless sometimes.”

Kkoma [81] glared at kkoma [666], scolding, “Put that weapon away. It’s too dangerous to point at
a child.”

Kim Dokja wanted to bring up that he was nowhere near close enough to even accidentally be hurt
by the miniature sword, but decided to keep quiet.

Kkoma [666] hastily sheathed it. He muttered something about ‘implementing child safety rules
with the others’ before walking away. He turned around the corner of the sofa, the tap of his steps
fading into nothing.

Kim Dokja stared at that spot, convinced that if he went and checked, there would be no signs of
kkoma [666] having ever existed. “Where did he go?”

“That doesn’t concern you. Finish your apple. And drink water after that, you’re too pale.”

Kim Dokja had no choice but to listen to the demands of this small Yoo Joonghyuk again.

While he ate he thought of the 81st round, recalling that it was the regression turn Yoo Joonghyuk
had decided to maximise his cooking skills. He wanted to ask about that too, but kkoma [81] was
watching him intensely so Kim Dokja focused his attention on trying to bite as close to the apple
core as he could. He followed it with two glasses of water, making sure to not even leave a drop
behind.

Kkoma [81] nodded, satisfied. “There’s lunch in the fridge for when you get hungry but don’t have
it too late. Try to eat at least two fruits a day to begin with from now on. Drink plenty of water and
finish your vegetables at dinner.”

There was nothing but good intentions behind the words, yet Kim Dokja still heard them for what
they truly were- a parting. He thought of the way kkoma [666] had just up and left, and a pang of
sadness hit him.

Kkoma [81] huffed, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t make that expression. If you need us, all you ever
have to do is say so.”

Oh, Kim Dokja thought. Had it been that easy from the start? If only he’d known sooner.

The words reassured him enough to put out a hand for kkoma [81] to jump onto and let him down
gently to the floor. This time he watched as the small back walked towards the kitchen doorway,
coat shifting with each step.

Just before he disappeared from view, kkoma [81] gave one last passing glance back, his
expression changing minutely. Then he was gone.

Alone in the room, Kim Dokja tilted his head in confusion.

Just then, that particular expression on kkoma [81]… Why did it feel like he had seen it before?

The look in those eyes filled with an emotion he couldn’t name. Why did it feel like he was
forgetting something important?

Kim Dokja’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out what the familiar feeling was.

A hazy moment gradually pieced itself together and before long Kim Dokja’s eyes lit up. Maybe
that was what ‘only one Yoo Joonghyuk’ had meant. He’d thought he’d imagined things that night,
but if what he had found out today was real then… he would have to confirm it.

Kim Dokja began spinning together a plan.

 star
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

After having finished clearing the dining table, Kim Dokja went to bed early that night. He told
Yoo Joonghyuk he was still feeling the lingering effects of tiredness from the fever and wanted to
rest.

Yoo Joonghyuk had already checked his temperature that morning, but he still took a moment to
briefly rest his hand on Kim Dokja’s forehead. When he nodded and pulled away, Kim Dokja had
to contain his guilt at having lied to him. He calmly walked away and said goodnight, slipping
through the door.

He missed the way Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyebrow twitched at the singular word, hands stopping mid-
task as he stared at the empty door from which the other had just left.

Kim Dokja did his usual routine before going to bed in the exact manner and order he normally did.
Before he got into bed however he did a quick scan of the room, even opening the wardrobe doors
to confirm there were no places inside for any kkomas to hide.

Then he rolled into bed and closed his eyes loosely, breaths even as he pretended to sleep. Minutes
crawled by as he waited, then hours, ears straining for any unusual sounds.

In the morning, eyes fluttering open, he realised he had accidentally ended up falling asleep.
Dismayed, he tried again that night.

This time he managed to stay up longer by recalling the details of each regression turn, starting
with the first, as if he was counting up in numbers. But even then, when sleep came for him in the
early hours of the morning he couldn’t stop himself from falling helplessly into it.

On the fourth day of his failed attempts, Yoo Joonghyuk stared at him at dinner. Kim Dokja
anticipated the questions coming so he hurriedly swallowed down his food, muttered a vague
excuse about it being late and needing to do something, before bounding up the stairs. He felt bad
for leaving the task of cleaning up to Yoo Joonghyuk but mentally promised to do extra chores
tomorrow.

Closing the door to his bedroom, Kim Dokja decided he needed a new approach. He paced the
room, deep in thought and arms folded.

After twenty minutes however he wasn’t any further than he started. He paused by the window,
sighing as he pushed the curtains aside. The lights in the room had been dimmed to the bare
minimum, allowing him to see clearly through it. A view of the large garden greeted him, the
kitchen doors creating a small rectangular area of illuminated plants and grass directly below him.
Beyond that were dark shapes and faraway spots of light within the city.

Hold on, that reminded him… Right, he’d forgotten but there had been that particular requirement
too.

Kim Dokja watched through the window and waited.

An hour passed before the lights in the kitchen finally turned off, the whole garden plunging into
darkness. Minutes later, distinct footsteps climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway. The
door next to his room opened and softly closed. As an extra precaution Kim Dokja waited another
half hour, until he was sure no noise had emerged from the neighbouring room.

Only then did he make his move.

Quietly, he reached for the handle of the window, pushing down and out as wide as he could. An
immediate breeze entered the room, warm against his face even at this late hour. The sweet scent of
flowers was carried on it and occasionally he glimpsed silhouettes of petals fluttering down in the
wind.

Instead of continuing to look down however, Kim Dokja turned his gaze up to the night sky. It was
clear of clouds yet light pollution near the city made the stars he sought out nearly impossible to
see. But he knew they were there, ever-present just like during the day, and his eyes roved patiently
over the expansive space until he thought he spotted a faint light.

It sat high above on his right- lonely, ethereal- and Kim Dokja exhaled. He pushed himself up
using his arms, feet tiptoeing as he leaned forward to get closer to it. The distance below him
seemed like nothing when compared to the millennium of years that separated him from that
singular entity. His upper body tilted outside the window as he craned his head further back, hands
gripping the windowsill, shuffling forward a bit more-

Something yanked on his clothes and Kim Dokja stumbled backwards. Before he could fall down a
hand grabbed his shoulders, steadying him.

His heart pounded in his chest and his hands trembled- but not from fear.

A deep voice filled the room, slow and calm. “There are easier ways to find me than to resort to
such methods.”

Kim Dokja’s eyes widened, even as he had been hoping for this to happen for days. One hand
reached past him to close the window, the other on his shoulder holding him firmly in place. He
could only turn his head slightly to observe that extended hand- so different in its pale scars and yet
the same- until the window shut and it dropped, followed by the sound of steps moving away.

No longer held in place, Kim Dokja spun around to see Yoo Joonghyuk standing there, arms
crossed over as he settled on leaning against the opposite wall.

Except this wasn’t any of the Yoo Joonghyuks he was familiar with.

“Do not attempt such reckless moves again. Weren’t you told that if you needed us all you had to
do was say so?”

…Kim Dokja had forgotten those particular words from kkoma [81]. His plan had ended up
revolving entirely around the other sentences spoken by him instead.

You’ve been watching me this whole time?

Not quite. There is only one Yoo Joonghyuk who has that task assigned to him. He only does so
when there is concern for your safety.

Not that it really mattered in that moment, because he couldn’t stop staring at the other individual
with excitement pumping in his veins. Unlike the other kkomas who had been strictly wearing the
outfit he’d only ever read about, this person wore a loose black turtleneck and casual trousers.

Kim Dokja opened his mouth. It took a few tries for him to get the question out, but when he did he
failed to keep the awe from his voice, “Which round are you?”

This Yoo Joonghyuk raised an eyebrow at him. “I think you already know.”

Kim Dokja’s eyes went to the unmistakable eyepatch partially covered by curly hair.

Satisfaction filled him. So he hadn't imagined it- the figure sitting by his bedside that night, lulling
him to sleep with the smallest tilt of his lips up.

Yoo Joonghyuk from the 999th regression turn, the one who had come closest to reaching the end
after the Yoo Joonghyuk just one door away, the one who had led his companions to the final wall,
the one who…

The feeling of excitement diminished, doused harshly by reality. Guilt built in the pit of Kim
Dokja’s stomach in its place, making him feel sick as he dug his fingers into his hand.

Yoo Joonghyuk scanned his face, stepping forward. “Kim Dokja?”

Kim Dokja only shook his head and moved to sit on the bed. He crossed his legs over and rested
his hands on his lap. Yoo Joonghyuk followed, bringing the chair in a corner of the room closer
until he sat in the same space as that night, arms folded loosely. He tilted his head, waiting for Kim
Dokja to speak, his lone eye standing out in its steadfast brightness, so similar to the star he’d
reached for earlier.

Kim Dokja wanted to look away from that comforting reliability, the scar peeking out from under
the eyepatch a haunting reminder of what Yoo Joonghyuk had lost. But running away from the
truth wouldn’t get him anywhere, especially with how hard he had tried to get to this moment in the
first place, so he gathered his courage. “I was just thinking… My favourite story was the 999th
round.”

He felt the moment Yoo Joonghyuk paused. It was an odd thing, Kim Dokja thought, to know the
lifetime you had lived full of hardship was the favourite of a child who had read it. Like it was
simple entertainment… Like the constellations he so hated. His stomach twisted in shame again
and he couldn’t begin to imagine what the other person was thinking.

But Yoo Joonghyuk only replied evenly, as if there was nothing wrong with what they were
discussing. “And why was that?”

Reasons drifted by in his mind but Kim Dokja settled for the most complete one. “It was the
closest thing to a perfect round.”

Yoo Joonghyuk said, “And now?”

They sat openly facing each other less than a metre apart, voices quiet in the room. Kim Dokja
twisted his hands. Head bowing, he observed the soft folds of his white bedsheet and confessed
heavily, “How could I ever have loved a round full of so much suffering?”

It was one thing to speak to Uriel about reading stories, and another to confess this to the
protagonist of his favourite regression turn.

His conversation with Kim Namwoon emerged in his mind next and the nightmare followed in its
wake. He paused and whispered, “Is that what the monster that day was?”

Silence. And then, “Is that how you saw yourself?”

It was the confirmation of what Kim Dokja had feared to hear for a long time. That the monster
he’d seen in the train station was indeed himself, that the conclusion his older self had come to was
his death.

The scariest thing though, was that Kim Dokja felt like he understood. That guilt and horror that he
was feeling now over having loved and needed a tragedy- Wasn’t it the same as what he’d seen
reflected in those eyes trapped within that nightmare? Was what that monster- Kim Dokja - had
tried to do that day actually the right thing, atonement for the crime he’d committed?

His thoughts spiralled down, stacking unforgivingly on top of each other.

When he didn’t reply to the question, Yoo Joonghyuk leaned forward and stooped down. He
ducked his head into Kim Dokja’s narrowed sphere of vision and waited.

A few seconds passed before Kim Dokja met that resolute gaze and held onto it. Hair strands
shifted away from Yoo Joonghyuk’s forehead until the eyepatch was nearly all visible, but Kim
Dokja continued to look into that singular eye.

Then Yoo Joonghyuk suddenly straightened and Kim Dokja, drawn by the expression so full of
undivided attention and impartial belief, instinctively lifted his head to follow.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice was confident and clear as he spoke. “Kim Dokja, you were a child who
dreamt in order to endure life. You are not to blame for something you could not control.”

Kim Dokja heard the words but didn’t let them settle for long. His mind drifted between what-ifs as
a counter argument. What if he had tried harder, what if he hadn’t been so weak, what if he hadn’t
read the novel- all of it would have given him more control. All of it would have meant this painful
story wouldn't have had to occur in the first place.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s composed figure and keen eyes observed his distracted figure. He seemed to
understand that words like that were not enough to get through to the other person. Leaning back
into the chair, Yoo Joonghyuk’s next words were spoken softer.

“The only thing stopping you from accepting that everyone has already forgiven you is your own
unwillingness to forgive yourself.”

Kim Dokja flinched, thoughts dispersing immediately. With just one sentence, he was laid bare for
anyone to see. Cold sweat broke out on his nape.

Yoo Joonghyuk however just continued on mercilessly. “Let me put it like this. You think your
older self killing you may indeed have been the correct course of action. Then do you think this
shouldn’t exist, that this outcome is the wrong one? Does that mean you regret this as well?”

Kim Dokja’s eyes shook, words stumbling over themselves in his rush to say, “No, I never…”

“Dokja, if my story helped you live then it is a story worth telling again and again.”

Kim Dokja sucked in a quiet breath, chest hurting from trying to keep his breathing even. Yoo
Joonghyuk continued to look at him in the same unyielding way.

The deeper truth to Kim Dokja was this- he didn’t hate this conclusion even if he was responsible
for what had been sacrificed to get here. He couldn’t bring himself to, because he was here, he was
here, he was here and Yoo Joonghyuk was telling him he had chosen to stay.

And even now, there was another offering the same salvation if he so much as let himself take the
first step…

A tentative hand reached forward to cross the gap, and Kim Dokja brushed away the hair covering
the other’s patched eye. Impossibly soft strands caught in between his fingers and he felt Yoo
Joonghyuk still.

Kim Dokja beheld the unfiltered view with nothing between them and asked hopelessly, “Even if it
meant this again?”

Yoo Joonghyuk smiled and Kim Dokja could only watch dumbfoundedly as seconds slowed,
marvelling at how easy it seemed on such a battle-worn face.

“Even then,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied.

Kim Dokja let his hand drop back onto his lap, shoulders loosening. Being chosen has always been
a privilege not meant for someone like Kim Dokja, and here he was, chosen yet again by another.

It was… an extremely precious thing he wasn’t quite sure how to hold.

He thought he could tell the difference between the 999th round and the 1863rd. This Yoo
Joonghyuk was far more expressive, an element of humanity that remained after spending his
whole round living for the sake of his companions.

It reminded him of them, and Kim Dokja said, “The others, they’re also from the 999th round.”

Yoo Joonghyuk hummed, allowing the change of subject. “I’m aware.”

Kim Dokja hesitated, unsure if he was pushing boundaries. But then he recalled Kim Namwoon’s
complicated voice as he told Kim Dokja he was rethinking things, the pause before he said captain,
and he couldn’t stop the confusion from entering his voice, “Don’t you want to see them?”

Yoo Joonghyuk sat back and gazed up at the ceiling in thought. “The others… They are each
learning to live on their own. Seeing me would only be a hindrance to that. No round is perfect,
certainly not my own, and regrets are powerful reminders.”

Kim Dokja heard the wistful undercurrent and muted acceptance. He knew this was a truth Yoo
Joonghyuk was trusting him with and so Kim Dokja held it close to his heart.

“So you’ll stay hidden.”

“They’ll heal eventually without me.”

It didn’t make it any less painful- for Yoo Joonghyuk who could only ever watch them from a
distance, and for Kim Dokja who could watch him from up close as he did. In the end however
there was only a determined look on Yoo Joonghyuk’s face. He had long since made peace with
his decision and would stand by it till the end. It was the same resilience that had got him through
hundreds of regressions.

Still, despite understanding the reasoning, Kim Dokja's heart ached for the one choosing to
ultimately be left behind. “That… seems lonely.”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s tilted his head. Before Kim Dokja could react he reached forward and ruffled his
hair. Kim Dokja’s head dipped under the weight of the hand, knowing his hair would probably be a
mess after but not caring.
Yoo Joonghyuk said, “Well I have you for company now, don’t I?”

Kim Dokja’s eyes sparked at the trusting certainty in that voice and he nodded earnestly.

The atmosphere in the room lightened, and Kim Dokja felt comfortable enough to remark, “You
know, you’re a lot more relaxed than the 1863rd round.”

Yoo Joonghyuk stopped and Kim Dokja raised his head. The hand dropped at the movement and
he saw Yoo Joonghyuk turn his gaze behind him. Kim Dokja didn’t need to follow to know what
he was looking at. In that moment the wall dividing them and the individual beyond felt thicker
than ever before.

“He’s not as unapproachable as he thinks he is.”

Kim Dokja didn’t expect the words, nor the sincere tone behind it.

Yoo Joonghyuk must have felt Kim Dokja’s questioning stare because he returned to looking at
him and elaborated, “I know at times he can come across as cold and distant, like he is keeping
you at arms length.”

Kim Dokja couldn’t deny that he had felt that, more than just once.

“At first I suspect he didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed by everything. After all, you had been
behind the final wall for so long and your emotional state was completely unknown.”

It was odd hearing about himself in the viewpoint of another, yet Kim Dokja found himself
entranced by it.

“Along the way he must have also realised that what he did was essentially forcefully take you
away from that place, no matter the good intentions behind it. That is his reasoning for giving you
space. He wants you to know that you always have a choice, in the hopes that if you ever didn’t
want anything, you would feel comfortable enough to say no immediately.”

Kim Dokja’s eyebrows furrowed. He’d never seen it like that. It had always been Yoo Joonghyuk
who had saved him, Yoo Joonghyuk who had spared him, Yoo Joonghyuk who had given him the
first ever second chance without any expectation in return.

“Or at least, that’s part of it.”

Kim Dokja looked up from his deep thoughts. Yoo Joonghyuk's eyebrow twitched, making a split
second decision and he carefully spoke, “Truthfully, he has also spent far too long alone with no
one other than himself. In a way he is learning to live with another person again. Give him time.”

Ah. Kim Dokja realised that even now he didn’t know a lot of things. He couldn't, not when his
understanding would always be somewhat flawed, the space in the margins purposely left blank.

Yet, it wasn’t complete ignorance. In his mind he thought of the well-kept garden, the ever-
changing meals and lock on his door.

Kim Dokja opened his mouth and said, “It’s okay.”

The effort of another human trying to understand him… how could he fault such a thing? If
anything it made Kim Dokja feel better, to know that both of them were not accustomed to this, and
were gradually learning their way around each other.
His glance gravitated to the corner of his room, on the still empty bookshelf that he routinely made
sure to wipe down to stop dust from collecting. Lee Hyunsung’s words rose up in his mind,
reassuring him. It may not be the easiest path but we can make it work our own way.

It made Kim Dokja want to try harder.

Yoo Joonghyuk observed this all without a sound. On the surface it was impossible to see his many
thoughts- all ranging from the things he wanted to shake into the individual next door, the still
healing cut he’d glimpsed on the other’s hand, and ending with the softly-spoken It’s okay that
seemed to speak more than a thousand words.

Kim Dokja's attention snapped back when Yoo Joonghyuk stood up from the chair and announced,
“It’s late. Sleep.”

Before he could stop himself Kim Dokja dejectedly asked, “You won’t stay?”

Yoo Joonghyuk halted in the middle of picking up the chair to return it to its original position in
the room. Gently placing it back on the floor, he crossed his arms on top of the back of it and
examined Kim Dokja. “Are you still feeling ill?”

Kim Dokja tried not to squirm under the gaze. “No...”

“I don’t have to worry about you attempting dangerous things again?”

Hearing the serious tone, Kim Dokja looked straight at the other person to show his sincerity. “I
promise not to.”

“Your nightmares?”

Kim Dokja paused. This time he carefully selected his words. “They happen sometimes. But it’s
okay.”

Thinking of the people around him who would always be there, Kim Dokja added, “I’ll be okay.”

Yoo Joonghyuk considered the words, the confidence in those relaxed shoulders and honesty
reflected in those calm eyes.

Both of them knew Kim Dokja did not actually need Yoo Joonghyuk to stay. However…

“Only this once,” Yoo Joonghyuk relented, “and only if you fall asleep within an hour.”

Both of them also knew it didn’t make sense to set such a condition, but Kim Dokja still nodded his
head eagerly in agreement and proceeded to hurriedly prepare for bed.

He tiptoed to the bathroom carrying his nightwear, brushed his teeth and changed his clothes in
record time. On the way back to his room, his eyes flickered to the firmly closed door next to his
own and he clutched his folded clothes tighter in his arms.

When he returned, Yoo Joonghyuk had already moved the chair back to its corner. Before Kim
Dokja got into bed he went to the window out of habit. He made sure the curtains were drawn back
fully and pushed the window open, leaving only a reasonable gap. Leaning nearby against the wall
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t say anything, and Kim Dokja finally slipped into bed, closing his eyes as
soon as his head hit the pillow.

Light footsteps against wood and then the lights clicked shut. The footsteps didn’t return but the
 door didn’t open either. Fresh air drifted into the room, the thin duvet bunched under Kim Dokja’s
hands, and his chest rising steadily in its rhythm.

Some time after, Kim Dokja fell asleep. He dreamed of sitting in a train riding with no stops, a long
string of empty carriages, lights of entire constellations dimming behind the windows. Of a
monster standing across from him with tears running down his pale cheeks, of moving to wipe
them away, of whispering it’s okay into the darkness, the shoulders shaking less, the train slowing
down. Of watching the monster split himself into two, discernible only by his stories, each
desperately human, of one part leaving and the other staying, until the landscape faded away and
he couldn’t recall anything.

Chapter End Notes

My favourite chapter.

999 makes me emotional. He's such a complex person that I wish was explored more,
and yet I found myself being able to write him so freely. I understand why Kim Dokja
loved that round so much, which is also what inevitably led to his conflicted emotions
here.

And so 999 is the star the chapter title refers to as much as Kim Dokja is :)
 rain
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Kim Dokja watched as thick clouds rolled in over the course of the afternoon, darkening until each
room was cast in a dim grey. Only a week later and the air was no longer buzzing with the
liveliness of summer but calm, awaiting the inevitable beginning of the monsoon season with
graceful patience. There was a new stillness in its wake that was not unlike holding one’s breath in
anticipation.

And Kim Dokja, fingers against the open window of his bedroom, let this quieter part of summer
wash over him in silent welcome.

The smell of incoming rain was comforting after so many weeks of heat. He would have liked to
stay a bit longer to appreciate it, but the lingering humidity stuck to his skin uncomfortably. He
wanted to have a quick shower to wash it off so he went to grab his clothes.

He opened his cupboard, automatically reaching for the clothes he’d sorted to the right. His hand
brushed against the fabrics of long sleeves, looking over the collection that had quickly expanded
despite his protests.

But then Kim Dokja stopped. He turned his head to the other untouched side. A mix of emotions
went through him upon seeing it, thoughts narrowing to a single question.

After minutes of careful deliberation, he began sifting through the left section, eyes roving over the
different designs he hadn’t ever seen before. Before he could lose his nerves, he settled on a simple
white t-shirt and headed to the bathroom.

When he returned to his room the first patters of rain had started to fall.

Kim Dokja immediately went to the window when he heard the unmistakable sound within the
otherwise silent room.

He stood there and trailed his index finger down the windowpane, following a small droplet on the
other side. As a child he had spent many hours playing this game to try to drown out the noises
beyond a closed door. He’d even become quite good at predicting a droplet’s path down, often
letting it chase his finger across the glass. Occasionally stray raindrops would fall on his hand, cool
against his skin, or enter the room through the small gap and collect on the windowsill.
Somewhere out there he would envision raindrops merging into streams, streams into rivers, rivers
into oceans, oceans back into raindrops, perpetually trapped within nature’s cycle.

He traced a path of another one, letting out a slow breath when it disappeared from his line of sight,
before firmly closing his window.

Walking to the full length mirror took more effort than he thought it would.

When he did, he found the Kim Dokja who looked back at him seemed different from what he
remembered. He sweeped a hand over the new cotton material, smoothing out the folds that were
soft to the touch. It hung off his frame slightly, but it was a comfortable size difference he didn’t
really mind.

He studied his arms next, the places where he had stopped needing to wear plasters weeks ago.
They had at one time been places that he could point out with his eyes closed, even if their
positions moved around over time like stars in the sky. The air on his exposed arms felt strangely
new, and he brushed his hands over them in an attempt to warm up his skin.

He thought of Kim Namwoon wrapped in bandages, who hadn't yet moved past but was trying to.
Kim Dokja hoped that one day like this, the other person would be comfortable enough to share the
burden of that broken piece of himself to another.

Kim Dokja knew inwardly that there was nothing to hide from the only other person living in the
house, not when their own scars were always visible. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. No
reason to need to cover up, when he knew no questions would be asked.

It wasn’t healing what was already there, but it was another step closer to learning to live with it.

When he went downstairs the kitchen lights had already been turned on, set to a warm orange.
They casted a cosy glow over the area, the room temperature indifferently cool.

By the time Kim Dokja peered through the garden doors the rain had started pouring down
heavily, the loudest ambient noise in the kitchen. In the distance the raindrops fell heavily on the
cherry blossom tree, bringing down droves of petals onto the floor. They floated on the surface of
slowly deepening puddles and stuck to each other in clumps.

The aroma of spices filled the space and there were a range of ingredients on the kitchen counter
where Yoo Joonghyuk had started making dinner. Kim Dokja walked there and examined the
crowded workspace. Before long he was able to put together an idea of what was being made.

Yoo Joonghyuk looked up as he neared, but his eyes didn't linger. He simply met Kim Dokja’s
gaze straight on before shifting his attention down again to the task at hand. Kim Dokja let out a
slow breath and leaned against the worktop.

He watched for a few minutes as Yoo Joonghyuk calmly worked before asking, “Can I help?”

Yoo Joonghyuk didn't respond. His hand didn’t waver from rapidly slicing a red pepper. The
question hung in the air between them for a few moments. Then when he was done, he stepped
over to make space for Kim Dokja by his side, moving the cutting board with him.

That’s how on a rainy evening in summer, Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk made dumplings.

They split the tasks between themselves. Whilst Yoo Joonghyuk made the filling of the dumpling,
Kim Dokja stirred the chicken broth in the pot sitting on the stove. Rhythmic chopping and gentle
bubbling filled the kitchen as heavy rain continued to fall on the skylight above them.

Yoo Joonghyuk handed Kim Dokja thinly chopped coriander on the board to put in. Occasionally
he leaned over to check the broth, adding spices, until half an hour later he finally nodded. Kim
Dokja turned the knob off and covered the pot with a lid, leaving it on the stove to cool slightly.

Then he handed Kim Dokja a dumpling wrapper and told him to watch carefully. Yoo Joonghyuk
used a wrapper to demonstrate first, starting with placing a generous spoon of the dumpling filling
in the centre. Then he picked it up and used the curve of his palm to shape the base, fingers
pinching the outside edge towards the centre, before twisting the point closed.

Each movement was meticulous and practised. It took less than half a minute and Kim Dokja was
left blinking, eyebrows furrowed. It had looked so effortless when Yoo Joonghyuk had done it that
Kim Dokja suddenly felt confident enough to try it out himself.
Yoo Joonghyuk was a patient teacher, guiding him gently and correcting his mistakes. His
presence was an unyielding pillar at his side and Kim Dokja didn’t want to disappoint him, so he
focused with utmost attention as if taking a very important exam he couldn’t afford to fail.

After five questionable attempts however, he solemnly accepted his lack of skill in the task and
gave up. The sad looking dumplings stared at him pathetically, half the filling spilled messily on
the counter. He let his hands drop to his side, stealing a glance to his right at the lengthening line
of perfect looking dumplings.

Kim Dokja was relieved that kkoma [81] wasn’t here to see his efforts, because what was worse
than Yoo Joonghyuk seeing his failed creations, was a Yoo Joonghyuk who specialised in cooking
seeing his failed creations. He wasn’t prepared to ever witness that kind of culinary
disappointment, or worse- pure horror.

So deep in his thoughts, Kim Dokja was startled when he heard a soft huff of laughter.

In such close proximity the sound was impossible to miss. Head snapping to Yoo Joonghyuk he
stopped and stared, dumbfounded at the upwardly curved lips.

It was gone before Kim Dokja could memorise it fully. The way it changed the other’s whole face,
the crinkle of his eyes and light within, the bunching of scarred tissue on his cheeks.

And ah , what a quiet realisation it was that Kim Dokja wished to see it again.

It was, he thought, decidedly different from the smile Yoo Joonghyuk of the 999th round had given
him. This one felt rarer, precious, like a difficult reward to obtain.

And if in that moment Kim Dokja made a promise to himself to see that smile again… Well, no
one except him would ever know.

Yoo Joonghyuk carefully picked up Kim Dokja’s five dumplings and placed them next to his own.
Even though it only accentuated the imperfections more, it was a clear sign that they had been
accepted. He handed more wrappers to Kim Dokja, and this time he made sure to observe Yoo
Joonghyuk more closely, picking up things in technique that he’d somehow missed before.

It took them the next hour to finish making the dumplings, of which Kim Dokja knew he was half
at fault for slowing the process down. But at no point did Yoo Joonghyuk make Kim Dokja feel
rushed. Each second was precious. By the end satisfaction remained at having worked hard, even
as Yoo Joonghyuk had to help Kim Dokja majority of the time for how hopeless he was with
wrapping the dumplings.

His stomach growled just as he finished setting the plates and Yoo Joonghyuk brought the food
over to the table. They both sat down at the same time as the sky darkened behind them.

Kim Dokja had read pages and pages dedicated to the detailed description of these fictional Murim
Dumplings. Hunger was its own beast and Kim Dokja had never had the means to subdue it. In the
past he liked to curl up under the duvet and imagine eating one, the steam floating into the air as it
sat in his cupped hands. He would make sure to blow on them to cool them down enough to bite
tentatively into, the flavours exploding in his mouth.

Those days he learnt to eat letter by letter, the white pages the base and black ink the filling inside.
As Yoo Joonghyuk took a bite, so did Kim Dokja, relishing the taste of words on the screen like
the chicken broth in the dumpling.

And even though there were multiple sentences by which the dumplings were described, each
paragraph more lavish than the next, in the end it was impossible to fully capture the feeling of
eating the real thing.

Yoo Joonghyuk sitting opposite him put another two dumplings into his plate before he had even
finished the first one. The chicken broth in his bowl reduced in volume after each bite, but the
large reserves in the pot ensured it wasn’t an issue.

By the end, Kim Dokja’s stomach was more full and content than he could ever remember it being.
The feeling was odd, something he was still getting used to, but he took his clear plate as a sign of
progress.

Yoo Joonghyuk finished his last bite just after Kim Dokja, the glimpse of unevenly folded edges
disappearing into his mouth. His expression was impassive, but Kim Dokja thought he could see
fulfilment within the slope of those shoulders.

Half a dozen dumplings still remained but neither made a move for more, so Yoo Joonghyuk
picked up the plate and rose from his seat. Kim Dokja quickly followed, stacking the used dishes
and cutlery to put by the sink.

Cleaning up was an easier task than cooking and they quickly managed to finish it between the
two. Soon the kitchen was filled with the sound of bubbling water as Yoo Joonghyuk made his
evening tea, rain still pounding against the glass.

Kim Dokja slumped onto the sofa, rolling his shoulders to get the dull muscle aches out. The
temperature had already dropped to the lowest it had been in weeks and he found himself reaching
for the blanket nearby. He wrapped it around his shoulders loosely, letting his head drop
backwards.

All that remained now was tiredness, except this time it was noticeably different. Kim Dokja knew
what this feeling was despite never really having experienced it to this extent before- it was a
physical drain from having worked hard mixed with the drowsy feeling after having eaten plenty of
warm food. Even so, his mind was wide awake and he watched everything with sharp eyes.

Only minutes later, Yoo Joonghyuk walked into his line of sight carrying two identical white
mugs. When he reached the sofa he held one out to Kim Dokja, handle facing towards the other.

“But I didn’t ask for…” Kim Dokja immediately began responding, but then he flicked his eyes up
and was met with Yoo Joonghyuk’s unwavering gaze. He stopped and his words trailed off.

Kim Dokja reached across the short distance, taking the mug carefully onto his lap. “Thank you,”
he said quietly.

Yoo Joonghyuk moved to sit on the other sofa as Kim Dokja took in the rich golden hue. The
translucent liquid was like molten glass, wisps of steam floating above the surface. Tea leaves
floated within and let off a strong fragrant smell.

Worried he would burn his mouth, Kim Dokja blew on it first before taking a tentative sip. The
taste was surprisingly sweet, balanced with a hint of spice at the end that left a pleasant aftertaste. It
seemed, he thought, very much like something Yoo Joonghyuk would enjoy.

As he drank, warmth settling inside him, Kim Dokja observed the window. The rain was lighter
now, pattering against the glass panes. From where he was sitting, he could even see the edge of
the white paint that had been peeling away from the wooden frame for a while now, revealing a
glimpse of pale blue beneath. It was a reminder of the little imperfections of the home he was
 gradually discovering and becoming familiar with. Kim Dokja had always been fond of those, the
hidden stories beyond the first initial glance.

Soon after Kim Dokja’s aches began to subside as his muscles relaxed, hands still wrapped around
the mug to dredge up the lingering warmth. Kim Dokja began pondering things, as one’s mind
does when it finds a sense of tranquillity.

There were many things Kim Dokja was learning to come to peace with.

He was fifteen, except he’d lived for far longer than that. One day he had dreamt of a story and
kept on dreaming until it became a reality. He believed he hadn’t been worth saving until someone
did.

Some would take a longer time to accept than others, but all were unavoidable truths. That was
okay.

And there were many things Kim Dokja was still learning. Maybe he would never stop doing so, as
long as there were those around willing to teach him.

Kim Dokja didn't know what tomorrow would bring.

But perhaps, as he gazed at Yoo Joonghyuk’s reflection in the window pane over the rim of his
mug, that was okay too.

Chapter End Notes

And that concludes Kim Dokja's chapters. Seeing how KDJ developed was amazing
(even though I'm the writer it still felt surreal and almost out of my hands haha) and
I'm happy he finally got his conclusion on his own terms. Definitely a proud moment.

Next update will be the final two chapters and from Yoo Joonghyuk's POV. Hope to
see you then :)
 kim dokja

That first day, Yoo Joonghyuk carried the small figure in his arms the whole way back. The
hitched breaths coming from the shaking frame had long since subsided. The child had fallen
asleep, and Yoo Joonghyuk could feel the steady warmth against him.

Kim Dokja.

That was the name of the existence who he held in his arms. The one who had begun the tragedy
spanning 1863 lifetimes and led to the eventual creation of his identity as Secretive Plotter.

This was the person beyond the wall who Yoo Joonghyuk had dreamed of killing to finally reach
the end of this world.

Yet, this was the person Yoo Joonghyuk had chosen to save. After having regressed and regressed
and regressed, the reward of his painful journey amounted to saving the one person he had most
wanted to kill.

And wasn’t that a tragedy in itself. A world so twisted that left a child in desperate need of help as
the root cause of everything they went through. The one trapped reading and rereading the story he
loved to hide from his own suffering for eternity.

Except in this case the child’s story wasn’t known. Wasn’t seen. Hidden in the shadows this story
had been neglected and untold.

Yoo Joonghyuk could tell. The bruises he’d glimpsed on Kim Dokja’s hands, the plasters too small
to hide the discoloured skin peeking out its sides, the thin wrists raised against his head as he
helplessly repeated someone else’s name.

Someone who had survived living through their own nightmare by dreaming of someone else’s
struggle as escape from an unjust reality- How could Yoo Joonghyuk possibly face such a story
with the same feelings of anger and revenge?

All these damn stories.

They needed to find a way to live beyond them.

 peace
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“You haven’t left yet, have you? It’s just that Dokja-ya mentioned wanting hot chocolate and I’d
like to surprise him.”

Yoo Joonghyuk hummed to show Uriel he understood and then shut the phone, putting it back into
his pocket. The unfamiliar weight of it was a recent addition he bought more out of practicality
than need, since the lack of star stream rendered midday tryst useless. It was also an important step
towards normalcy, learning to live in a world not ravaged by the scenarios.

He turned around and headed back the way he came to the supermarket. Once there Yoo
Joonghyuk picked up several chocolate bars, cocoa powder and a packet of mini marshmallows,
making sure there would be enough for Kim Namwoon and Lee Jihye too. The cashier smiled
when she saw him again and this time when he handed the items over, she made an effort not to
stare at the scar running across his eye.

The additional trip meant he ended up returning half an hour later than his initial estimation for
grocery shopping. When he closed the door behind him, Yoo Joonghyuk noticed the house was
quiet.

Far too quiet. There weren’t any of the sounds that had been present from when he had left, no
unrestrained laughter or loud conversations. His eyebrow twitched and he quietly placed the carrier
bags on the floor. The system he had in place meant [41] should have told him if something was
wrong, but he had heard no such thing from him.

He headed towards the kitchen where the lights were strangely turned off with soundless steps, a
dull feeling of dread filling his stomach. Reaching towards the hilt of his sword was instinctual-
only to find himself grasping at air. His hand faltered by his side when he remembered he had left
the weapon in his room before heading out.

It would be a mild inconvenience, but Yoo Joonghyuk was confident in his ability to handle any
threat without it too. He crossed over the doorway into the kitchen, hand running against the wall
and-

“Surprise!”

A chorus of voices shouted out, followed quickly by popping sounds. Light suddenly flooded the
room and Yoo Joonghyuk blinked rapidly, pupils constricting and eyes squinting. Colourful strings
floated down around him, wisps of smoke dissipating into the air from the several party poppers
pointed at him.

His shoulders relaxed and he dropped his offensive position, the situation becoming clear
immediately. He should have expected this- if not for the fact he’d forgotten all about it. After all,
how many years had it been since he last celebrated his birthday?

In the corner of his eye Yoo Joonghyuk saw Lee Jihye and Kim Namwoon reaching for another
party popper. He turned to give them a silent stare. Their hands stopped in their tracks and they
snickered, Kim Namwoon swiping the packet off the table to hide behind his back.

Yoo Joonghyuk took in the surroundings next, strung up balloons and decorations making up one
length of the kitchen.

Nearby Uriel sighed, her eyes roving over the room, “We would have decorated some more, but
Dokja-ya said something about it not fitting your style… Still we couldn’t leave the space as it
was.”

Kim Dokja had been right, as strange as the reasoning had sounded. Yoo Joonghyuk thought even
this was excessive and was silently grateful there hadn’t been more. Speaking of which…

Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes sought out the individual, only to find him missing.

“Where is Kim Dokja?” he asked.

“Oh. He’s…” Lee Hyunsung trailed off with an awkward expression.

He glanced at the others, searching for help, but no one spoke up. Uriel inspected the clock and
Lee Jihye fiddled with her empty party popper. Kim Namwoon even went as far as turning his head
away when looked at and whistling a bad tune.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyebrow twitched.

He would have to talk to [41] about the lack of communication- although he suspected he knew the
cause. Despite [41]’s firm belief that it was unnecessary, the very same day he was introduced to
Kim Dokja by [666] was undoubtedly when he became fond of the other. It meant he was most
likely in on this plan too, so long as Kim Dokja had been the one to request his silence. Yoo
Joonghyuk folded his arms and opened his mouth, ready to-

“You’re back.”

Yoo Joonghyuk turned around at the voice, words scattering in his mind.

Kim Dokja stood at the base of the stairs, eyes bright and a party popper in hand. His fingers were
on the string ready to pull, but upon seeing Yoo Joonghyuk for some reason he decided to let go.
Yoo Joonghyuk watched him walk over to his side with a guilty look on his face.

Kim Dokja gestured to a point on the back of his head and explained, “There’s some in your hair.”

From behind him Kim Namwoon groaned loudly, “Kid, you weren’t supposed to tell him. It spoils
the fun!”

Yoo Joonghyuk tilted his head forward and the confetti strings dislodged, falling through the air
between them. Kim Dokja grabbed it before it reached the floor and set it neatly aside.

“I’m telling you, your conscience is way too pure! I’ll have to teach you some- Ow!”

Lee Jihye had punched Kim Namwoon in the side as she flicked her eyes to Yoo Joonghyuk and
hissed, “Shut up, you idiot!”

Yoo Joonghyuk ignored the two, entrusting Lee Jihye to keep a check on the other. He went back
to collect the bags near the front door and brought them to the kitchen table. Kim Dokja neared,
peeking through the top as he took in the various groceries. His eyes settled on the smallest bag last
and he peered inside at the items.

“What’s this?”

Yoo Joonghyuk said, “It’s for you.”

“But I didn’t ask for anything?” Kim Dokja looked confused.

Lee Jihye finished dealing with Kim Namwoon then, the latter rubbing his side and muttering
under his breath. She bounded over and upended the bag onto the table, eyes narrowing excitedly
at the mini marshmallows. Ripping the packet open, she popped a handful in her mouth and
explained, “I was right. You make an excellent distraction.”

“Oh.” Kim Dokja said it in a tone that implied he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. Lee
Jihye noticed because she grinned and gave him a thumbs up. It dissolved his uncertain expression
completely and he copied the action in return.

Whilst Lee Jihye’s attention was on Kim Dokja, Kim Namwoon managed to sneak up behind her
and grabbed the marshmallow packet from her unresisting fingers.

Before she could cry out however Uriel walked over and held out a hand with a stern expression.
She waited patiently until Kim Namwoon grumbled and dropped the packet into her awaiting
palm.

Lee Hyunsung suggested, “I think we should eat dinner first.”

Uriel nodded and twisted the packet shut, “Excellent idea, I’ll get the plates out.” She turned to
Lee Jihye and Kim Namwoon with a sweet smile that left no room for any debate, “You two get
the food onto the table. Without starting another fight please.”

Kim Namwoon saluted and they were off, each doing their own task.

In under ten minutes, the previously empty dining table was filled with a variety of dinner food.
Some were store-bought, but most were in glass dishes and wrapped in clingfilm, clearly
homemade and carefully presented. Yoo Joonghyuk could tell who had made each one by
appearance, and it seemed that everyone had contributed their part. If [81] had been here, he would
surely have lined the dishes up and ranked them on presentation and style alone.

Yoo Joonghyuk stood away and observed them pile up their plates. Conversation was ever-flowing
as they tried out each other’s food. Uriel’s eyes were glued on Kim Dokja as he ate the kimchi she
made. Lee Hyunsung was discussing with Kim Namwoon about the process of making rice cakes,
which was the dish the latter had brought.

Which left…

“You’re not eating?”

Lee Jihye approached him, a full plate in hand. Yoo Joonghyuk watched her place it down on the
counter and begin eating, before answering back.

“I don’t eat food made by others.”

She rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, that’s what captain said at the start too.” Lee Jihye smiled gently
then, as if thinking back to a fond memory, “But I’ll have you know I can cook amazing noodles.
Even captain was surprised when he first tasted it.”

It was the first time she had mentioned [999] in front of him. Yoo Joonghyuk observed the loose
manner she held herself, the words that didn’t hold any animosity or blame within them.

“Well, more for us I guess.” Lee Jihye shrugged and spun away, calling out, “Hey Kim Namwoon!
I made yours separately since you don’t like green onions, it’s in that container over there.”
Kim Namwoon's eyes widened and he followed her pointed finger. For once he didn’t have a witty
comeback ready as he grabbed the container put to the side, unlatching the top with a wide grin.
Lee Jihye joined his side and sat down just as he put the first bite into his mouth, saying something
to her. She rolled her eyes at him, but it was hard to miss the way they shone a bit brighter.

Before Yoo Joonghyuk knew it, dinner was over and the others decided to have a video game
tournament. Yoo Joonghyuk was roped into joining in order to even out the team numbers. He
would have preferred to sit out completely, but Kim Dokja was looking at him with hopeful eyes,
so he relented. The two teams ended up being split as Lee Jihye, Lee Hyunsung and himself against
Kim Namwoon, Uriel and Kim Dokja.

Needless to say, his team won. It may have been many lifetimes since he played, but he hadn’t
been a professional gamer for nothing. The large point gap left Lee Jihye rubbing the loss against
Kim Namwoon’s face as he demanded a solo rematch against him. Yoo Joonghyuk however just
impassively put the controller down and didn’t respond. Lee Hyunsung tried to calm the situation
down, but since he was on the winning team, it only served to rub the victory in more to Kim
Namwoon.

In the end it was Uriel who managed to pull Lee Jihye away, giving the other a pointed look at her
wristwatch.

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t miss the way it completely changed the mood. Lee Jihye grabbed Kim
Namwoon by the collar and pulled him back, loudly declaring, “Wow, would you look at that, it’s
almost time for that thing we had! Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

Kim Namwoon, in the middle of forcefully shoving a controller back into Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand,
gave her an incredulous look. “Huh? What are you going on about now? I’m not leaving without a
rematch-”

Lee Jihye proceeded to grab him by his ear and he howled. She smiled apologetically at Kim
Dokja and said, “Sorry, but we have to go do something very important that we absolutely cannot
miss.”

Kim Dokja blinked from where he sat on the sofa, controller still on his lap. “Ah, I see. It can’t be
helped then.”

Uriel spoke up too then, glancing dramatically at her phone. “Oh, how terrible, something urgent
just came up. Lee Hyunsung, I’ll need your expertise so would you mind coming with me?”

Lee Hyunsung jumped in with a cough and said as if reading off a poorly written script, “Of
course, how could I possibly ignore someone needing my help?”

Uriel nodded vigorously, “Great. Dokja-ya, I’m sorry, we’ll make it up to-”

Kim Dokja, watching this hectic mess unsuspectingly, shook his head to reassure her. “Don’t worry
about it, we can always do something next time.”

Uriel beamed, “I’ll look forward to it then.”

Lee Jihye dragged an outraged Kim Namwoon to the front door whilst Lee Hyunsung grabbed his
jacket. Uriel was the last one to wave goodbye to Kim Dokja, and Yoo Joonghyuk followed to see
her out.

Just before she stepped outside Uriel glanced back at him. Yoo Joonghyuk paused. Then the door
clicked softly shut behind her and the house settled into a comfortable silence.

At that moment, Yoo Joonghyuk was sure. There was no mistaking it.

That expression she had worn just before closing the door was the kindest he’d ever seen her give
him.

It was no surprise to Yoo Joonghyuk that out of everyone, it was Uriel who had proved to be the
most hesitant to move forward. Their earliest interactions had been bitter at best, only initiated by
an overlapping purpose stemming from a single person.

He was reminded of their conversation in the kitchen that very first week, the unconcealed anger in
her voice when she demanded answers from him.

How long do you plan to ignore him for? He’s just a child!

Yoo Joonghyuk remembered the moment he saw Kim Dokja standing in the doorway, eyes grey
and dull, shoulders small and frail, hair still slightly dishevelled from getting out of bed.

In the end the words couldn’t be taken back, nor easily explained in the moment. It was therefore
far easier to let the misunderstanding remain than attempt to explain the reasoning behind his
distant behaviour, when he himself was still trying to figure out his emotions and messy thoughts.

After that, Uriel had conversed with him only when needed, which so far amounted to a single
hand’s worth of occasions.

“I hope everything’s okay,” Kim Dokja spoke from behind him.

Yoo Joonghyuk flicked a look back and saw him looking at the door with furrowed eyebrows.

When Kim Dokja felt the other’s gaze on him, his expression changed and he murmured, “Ah, I
almost forgot.” He turned to go back to the kitchen, leaving Yoo Joonghyuk to follow in his steps.

Kim Dokja moved towards the sofa and gestured, “I need you to sit here please.”

Yoo Joonghyuk raised an eyebrow, but curiosity led him to immediately walk over and do as
requested.

The second he settled down, Kim Dokja raised his hand and hovered it over Yoo Joonghyuk’s
eyes. It was close enough that Yoo Joonghyuk could feel his eyelashes brush against the other’s
skin when he blinked.

“Now close your eyes.”

Hearing the sudden serious tone, Yoo Joonghyuk could do nothing except listen again, darkness
encompassing his vision.

A minute later Kim Dokja’s voice came from further away as he asked, “Are they closed?”

Yoo Joonghyuk hummed in affirmation. As soon as he did, he heard the opening of a cupboard and
shuffling around. Kim Dokja held in his breath, like he was reaching for something high above.

Then the cupboard closed shut and Kim Dokja was heading back, his footsteps almost soundless
against the floor. Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought there was a spring in those
steps that hadn’t been there before, an excited liveliness that couldn’t be contained.
Kim Dokja settled on the sofa next to him, knee accidentally knocking against Yoo Joonghyuk’s as
he did. He listened as Kim Dokja let a slow breath out, before declaring, “Okay, you can look
now.”

Yoo Joonghyuk opened his eyes and turned his head towards the other.

Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t really known what to expect. It would perhaps be even more accurate to say
he hadn’t been expecting anything at all.

Which is why when he saw what was in Kim Dokja’s hands, he was more than just surprised.

Kim Dokja began explaining, “I thought about it for a long time but couldn’t think of anything
good enough for your birthday. The others suggested just getting a cake, but something about it
didn’t feel right… I wanted to do something better than that.”

Kim Dokja shifted as he talked, head tilting sideways in thought. “Then I remembered that day we
made Murim dumplings together. I can’t explain how… but I think you were happy then. So I
thought if I tried my best I could surprise you with them.”

Oh , Yoo Joonghyuk thought.

So that’s what it seemed like to him.

It was most likely that Kim Dokja had come to a single conclusion- That the dumplings were the
only thing that could have possibly made Yoo Joonghyuk happy that day.

“I asked kkoma [81] if he could help, and we practised a lot until I could make them myself. He
was a really strict teacher but in the end it was worth it. Even kkoma [41] and [666] joined in when
I invited them…” His voice trailed off after he realised Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t moved or said
anything. There was a moment of silence.

In a small voice Kim Dokja said, “Oh. Did I do something wrong?”

Yoo Joonghyuk saw misunderstandings rapidly form within the other’s eyes. Kim Dokja drew back
slightly, clutching the glass container in his lap tighter as he laughed nervously. “Of course, they
aren’t anything like the ones you can make. You don’t have to force yourself to-”

Before he could stand up, Yoo Joonghyuk gently grabbed Kim Dokja’s arm. He stopped trying to
move away and watched Yoo Joonghyuk with slightly clouded eyes.

Yoo Joonghyuk took the still warm glass container from his hands. He opened the top and the scent
immediately wafted into the space, a familiar aroma.

Since learning of the recipe himself, Yoo Joonghyuk had only managed to make Murim dumplings
a handful of times, too caught up in the scenarios for such a simple luxury. That day with Kim
Dokja had been the first in a very long time he had done so.

He could see it, the care taken into making each fold of the dumplings, the practice it took to make
them look uniform, the patience to commit to every step from start to finish. Here was a person
who had learnt to make Murim dumplings with utmost thought and attention.

All for the sake of one person.

Kim Dokja held his breath as Yoo Joonghyuk reached for the chopsticks inside. He picked up the
dumpling right at the top and didn’t even scrutinise it before putting it into his mouth.
Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t expected Kim Dokja to make him dumplings for his birthday.

He’d expected even less that when he took the first bite he was thrown back to a long forgotten
memory, of the very first time he had eaten Murim dumplings sitting next to the woman he called
his sole teacher and master, as she smiled and told him he needed to live more freely.

It tasted… unbelievably identical to the real thing.

Kim Dokja watched him eat, until there wasn’t a single dumpling left. His eyes were wide when
Yoo Joonghyuk set aside the empty container, the start of a new spark held within them. For a
while they sat there in each other's presence, both content for their own reasons.

Kim Dokja laced his fingers together on his lap loosely and leaned back against the sofa. Twisting
his head to keep Yoo Joonghyuk in sight, his hair splayed against the fabric like a halo.

In a quieter voice he said, “Actually I really wanted to make dumplings with you, like last time. But
then it wouldn't have been a surprise…”

And there it was, a glimpse of the second conclusion.

Yoo Joonghyuk smiled softly.

Kim Dokja stopped. His eyes sparkled in excitement as if having finally caught something and Yoo
Joonghyuk heard him whisper under his breath, “There it is.”

“What is?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked.

“Nothing,” Kim Dokja quickly replied, snapping his head the other way.

Yoo Joonghyuk waited. It didn’t take long until the other turned back, arms crossed self-
consciously and voice sincere.

“You should smile more often. It makes you look handsome.”

Yoo Joonghyuk stared, thoroughly thrown off by the words. It was the first time Kim Dokja had
voiced such an open opinion with him- about him- even if it was regarding something as
unexpected as looks.

Unaware of this, Kim Dokja inclined forward and rested his head on his hand. His shoulders were
relaxed, his expression content.

Yoo Joonghyuk thought for a moment.

After a while he said, “Thank you. For today.”

Kim Dokja tilted his head to look at him quietly, searching his face. “Did you like it?”

“I did.”

And oh how Kim Dokja smiled at that, unrestrained and simple.

Yoo Joonghyuk only then belatedly realised that he hadn’t ever seen Kim Dokja smile before. It
would have been impossible to forget it otherwise. He couldn’t help but wonder, how had just two
words from himself been the cause of such an inexplicably open and carefree reaction?

And yet, if all it took was two words from himself to see the other smile like that, he could do it for
eternity.

Yoo Joonghyuk opened his mouth and after contemplating for a while, said, “You should smile
more often. It makes you look handsome.”

Kim Dokja coughed and immediately covered his face with his hands, ears tinging pink. In a small
muffled voice he replied, “Please forget I ever said that.”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips twitched.

“Only if you let me make a request.”

Kim Dokja’s hands dropped to his lap, revealing his relieved face as he eagerly nodded his head.
“Anything.”

Yoo Joonghyuk paused.

It would be okay, he thought, to be selfish just this once given it was his birthday- even as
hypocrisy whispered that he’d never cared about such things before. He took in a quiet breath.

“Surprise me again next year.”

A year was a short time. Yoo Joonghyuk had experienced it far longer than anyone, to the point
years became a smaller, inconsequential means of measuring his suffering within time. And yet for
once, it felt like the complete opposite, the beginning of many beginnings to come.

“Okay.” Kim Dokja’s eyes shone like stars, endless possibilities held within them.

It sounded like a promise.

Kim Dokja fell asleep at his side an hour later. He watched the slow process of it happening, bleary
eyes struggling to remain open, head tilting downwards, until he gently leaned against Yoo
Joonghyuk’s arm and didn't move again.

Yoo Joonghyuk shifted carefully to make Kim Dokja more comfortable. His weight was light
against him as he moved the other’s hand onto his lap so it wouldn’t be trapped between them. For
the few seconds whilst he held that wrist, he could feel its warmth and steady heartbeat.

After a while, Yoo Joonghyuk began drifting between thoughts, as one’s mind does when it finds a
sense of tranquillity.

A few months ago, he would never have imagined he would be here, continuing to exist for a
reason other than a visceral need to know his purpose.

Perhaps the words he had spoken to Kim Dokja that day, when everything seemed to have changed,
held some truth with himself too. He was no longer constrained by the title he had once created for
himself.

So he laid to rest the name of Secretive Plotter and though it felt unfamiliar, unsettling, he began
thinking of the Yoo Joonghyuk before the scenarios. Within that distant past emerged a singular
word, cruel but tempting- Home. It was a concept he believed he had given up the right to when he
repeatedly failed to save Yoo Mia.

Still, he did what he could in his own way. Cleaning and gardening in the hope that the space
would feel more than just a house. Shopping so that the cupboards were full and furnishing rooms
so they weren’t bare. Cooking so that the food was always warm and fresh, the fridge never empty
or him too far away.

Sometimes when Yoo Joonghyuk looked at Kim Dokja he was reminded of Yoo Mia, not because
they were anything alike, but because in so many lifetimes she was beside him just like this.

Other times when he looked at Kim Dokja he was reminded of the final wall, of searching for a
person he wanted to kill. It wasn’t because he still wanted to do so, but because it was sometimes
difficult to rub away the haunting memory of years of intrinsic hate and despair, even if he had
beyond a single doubt forgiven the other.

From time to time he even looked at Kim Dokja and was reminded of himself, of innumerable
decades spent existing as an untouchable entity. Not because they were the same for sharing that
experience, but because he was reminded they each understood what it meant to be an abandoned
story and a lonely existence.

In more frequent times Yoo Joonghyuk looked at Kim Dokja and simply saw a child, not because
his physical body was one despite however long he must have lived for, but because when he gazed
at Yoo Joonghyuk there was impossibly still innocence and curiosity in his eyes.

This was an individual learning to live with desires guided by dreams and a longing to be loved.

And Yoo Joonghyuk wanted to be there for it.

Some time later [999] found him in that same position, a blanket carried in his hands. He unfolded
it and covered Kim Dokja silently, loosely tucking in the ends around him. Kim Dokja didn’t stir
against Yoo Joonghyuk, the blanket rising and falling subtly along with his breaths. It was clear to
see just how exhausted he must have been. [999] moved back carefully, and for a while they both
observed the sleeping figure, the peace within the home and vivid signs of life within its walls.

“Is he the same as the one you knew?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked quietly.

They both knew what he was referring to. Memories rose- of [999]’s choice to turn his back that
day, to raise a sword against him, to follow a different Kim Dokja even then.

Yoo Joonghyuk knew that himself from the 999th round was different from the others. It wasn’t
only that [999] was the sole one who had come closest to the ending of the scenarios after himself.
It was because he acted differently, made decisions that confused the other kkomas and had
reasoning independent of the rest of them. It was why Yoo Joonghyuk could ask this question in
the first place.

[999] glanced at him, then back to Kim Dokja. In that brief look Yoo Joonghyuk saw an edge of
something he couldn’t read. His reply didn’t take long, as if the answer was easy to find, each word
holding a distinctive weight.

“In a way, yes. Because they both hold so much more inside themselves than they are willing to let
go.” [999] tilted his head and reached a hand up to his eyepatch, tracing its bottom edge towards
his cheek idly as he spoke, “But in this case it’s different. This child will grow up knowing how it
feels to be loved. That alone is enough to change things completely.”

Yoo Joonghyuk thought he understood. The Kim Dokjas who would have the same past but
 different futures. It was uncertain which future would turn out to be the best, to see which choice
would lead to the best outcome for the ones involved.

It perfectly described the many rounds of regression, each kkoma created, each existence that was
the same and different at the same time.

However what remained would always be the possibility of change, and for now that was proof
enough of hope.

[999] said, “He borrowed a book yesterday.”

“I know,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied. He had seen it on the bookshelf behind a worn notebook that
was always there.

“He worked hard for today,” [999] added.

“I know,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied. He could see the effort that had gone into every little thing.

“He chose to stay.”

Surprise me again next year.

Okay.

This time the silence spoke for the both of them.

In the morning they would wake up. Kim Dokja would reach for the open marshmallow packet
during breakfast, only to find that [81] had hidden it until he ate proper food. Then Kim Dokja
would help pack away the decorations and the kkomas would assist him, [41] grudgingly acting
like he had far better things to do. He’d later come into the garden to watch Yoo Joonghyuk check
over the plants, but stay completely clear of the tomato patch. In the evening, Yoo Joonghyuk
would drink his tea before wiping down his sword, whilst Kim Dokja read his new book.

And the night would fall until dawn rose to take over, each day full of impossibilities made
possible by a single existence having dreamed.

For Yoo Joonghyuk, that alone was enough.

Chapter End Notes

13 chapters later and this summer for the 999 crew, YJH and KDJ finally draws to a
close.

Thank you to everyone who has read to the end! This story was something I knew I
needed to write for a few months now and it wouldn't have felt half as impactful as it
did without seeing your support throughout. I hope I was able to convey the much
needed healing and self-acceptance KDJ and the others went through to find their
peace.

If this story did reach you in any way (like it did emotionally with me), I would love to
hear your final thoughts on this chapter or your favourite moments/quotes from the
whole fic :)
Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!