Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sky that day had been a dazzling color. He remembered gazing at the endless, indigo-hued expanse above as he stepped over broken mechanical pencil leads and around wooden desks.

When he opened the classroom window, he trembled as cold air streamed in, brushing past his hair in a mournful sigh. Still, he did not look down, only reaching out towards that lonely blue eternity.

What had he been thinking at that time?

Perhaps he hadn’t been thinking of much at all.

—

Kim Dokja was late on his first day of high school.

It wasn’t his fault, of course—he’d gotten up on time. No, that honor belonged to a certain moody bastard.

On that fateful morning, Kim Dokja had passed through the school gates, studying the school map clutched in his hands. He was directionally challenged, sure, but it didn’t matter. He had already spent hours poring over the map, tracing the steps from the school gate to classroom 1-B and acquainting himself with the confusing array of hallways. This time, Kim Dokja would definitely be able to make it to his classroom without wandering about for thirty minutes and then shamefully asking for help.

Naturally, everything collapsed within three seconds of entering the school. Without warning, the map fell from his hands and Kim Dokja found himself suspended in the air by the collar of his school uniform, face-to-face with another boy.

Dark eyes reminiscent of sharpened jewels and tousled black hair. A firm jawline and thick eyebrows. Ignoring the permanent scowl etched onto his face, the boy who’d grabbed him was admittedly quite handsome. He looked like the protagonist of a novel; the dashing, righteous hero who would slay evil and gain the affections of men and women alike. 

However, Kim Dokja was fairly certain that forcefully grabbing a random stranger and then lifting them up like a sack of potatoes did not fall under the category of “heroic.” 

The boy was tall, Kim Dokja noticed, tall enough to be a third-year. But if that was the case, then the situation made even less sense—what could a third-year possibly want with a measly first-year? 

There was a pause as the boy scrutinized Kim Dokja’s face, as if he were inspecting some ugly squid to be dissected. 

“Did you need… something?” Kim Dokja asked, his voice wavering rather pathetically.

Hearing his words, the boy’s grip on Kim Dokja’s shirt collar tightened and something akin to murder flickered in his eyes. Apparently, speaking was not the right thing to do. Kim Dokja shut his eyes, waiting for a fist—

that never came.

A shrill pitch reverberated through the school as the bell rang. The grip on Kim Dokja’s collar loosened in surprise and he fell to the ground, wobbling on his feet. Sensing an opportunity to get away, Kim Dokja darted off, running as fast as his legs could carry him.

Unfortunately Kim Dokja was not known for his athletics, but the strange student didn’t follow him and he breathed a sigh of relief, eventually slowing down in some unfamiliar hallway. Once safe, Kim Dokja reached into his pockets to pull out his trusty map.

His trusty map, which had fallen from his hands after his harrowing encounter with that student and was probably lying in a miserable heap near the front of the school.

Following a brief moment of panic, Kim Dokja resigned himself to finding his classroom on his own, but all the hallways looked the same and the room numbers kept mixing around in a distinctively numerical sludge. When Kim Dokja somehow found his way into the janitor’s closet, he promptly exited the cluttered room and gave up, sitting down on the floor. 

So much for being on time.

He was in the midst of silently cursing a certain bastard with unfairly good looks when a sweet voice sounded.

“Are you all right?”

Kim Dokja looked up to see a girl with warm eyes and a gentle smile. She had honey brown hair tied back in a low ponytail that cascaded down her shoulders. If the boy from before looked like a hero, then this girl definitely seemed like a heroine. He hurriedly stood up, sensing an opportunity.

“Do you know where classroom 1-B is?” He asked. 

A knowing smile appeared on her lips, and Kim Dokja realized desperation was probably written all over his face. 

“Of course! I can take you there if you need it.” 

Somehow, Kim Dokja found her voice reassuring, and the tension in his shoulders loosened. “Thank you.”

As they walked, the girl introduced herself. “I’m Yoo Sangah, a second year.”

Kim Dokja nodded as they turned a corner, bowing his head slightly. “Nice to meet you, Yoo Sangah-ssi.” After a short pause, he realized he had forgotten to introduce himself as well. “I’m Kim Dokja, a first year.”

As he said his name, Yoo Sangah stumbled, her eyes wide. Kim Dokja blinked at her and she continued walking as if nothing happened. “It’s… a pleasure to meet you as well, Dokja-ssi.” Yoo Sangah said, though she sounded somewhat strained. She smiled at him, but her eyes didn’t accompany it.

A thread of unease wormed its way into Kim Dokja’s heart. Why had she reacted like that? Did she know who he was? It had been almost two years since the article had been published. Surely something like that must have faded into the background by now. 

The reassurance Kim Dokja felt earlier dissipated, and his throat dried up, failing to summon any more words. They walked the rest of the way to his class in silence, with Yoo Sangah waving somewhat awkwardly at him before heading back to her own classroom.

His first period had started fifteen minutes ago, and Kim Dokja wondered if Yoo Sangah was late as well. He concluded that someone like her, with good looks and a pleasant demeanor, was probably well-liked enough that being late once or twice could be overlooked. 

Someone like him, however…

The teacher pinned him down with a sour glare as Kim Dokja entered the classroom. He ignored the stares from students prickling his back as he searched for a seat. Two were open, with one in the back by the window and the other a few rows closer to the front.

Kim Dokja headed resolutely for the seat near the back of the classroom, when the student sitting next to that seat looked away from the window and locked eyes with him. 

As fate would have it, the student was none other than the gloomy boy from earlier who had made Kim Dokja late.

With that, Kim Dokja promptly spun around and jammed himself into the other seat near the front, pointedly ignoring the iron scowl drilling holes into the back of his head.

Why was he here?! 

The teacher said something about being late on the first day and Kim Dokja nodded absentmindedly, his heart racing. 

Murderous stares, attempting to strangle him at the school gate, coincidentally being in the same class… the more Kim Dokja thought about it, the clearer it all became.

He’d somehow wound up as the next victim of a gruesome murder case, and the would-be perpetrator was sitting only a few seats away.

As class continued, Kim Dokja buried his face into his desk. If he concentrated hard enough, perhaps he would be able to successfully integrate his face with the wood, excusing him from the atrocities of life and the aforementioned murder scheme.

Because Kim Dokja was not favored by fortune or anything at all, really, when a break arrived his face had not integrated with the wood. Thus, his suffering had to continue. He reluctantly detached his face from the table. 

Only to see the very student he had been avoiding standing in front of his desk. Kim Dokja’s mind whirled as he grasped for ways to get out of the situation.

“Name.” The student spoke first. His voice was low, his words clipped, but somehow Kim Dokja felt inclined to listen, against his better reasoning.

“What?” Kim Dokja said.

“What is your name?” The boy repeated, a dark look crossing his face. 

“Kim Dokja.” 

The student opened his mouth as if to say something else, when a group of girls suddenly swarmed around them. Well, not them , but rather, the handsome student.

“You’re Yoo Jonghyuk, right?” One of them giggled. 

Another stood directly in front of Kim Dokja’s desk, blocking his view of the other student—no, Yoo Jonghyuk. “Wow, you’re so tall! Are you a model, Jonghyuk-ssi?”

It was almost comical, how quickly they formed a barrier between him and Kim Dokja. Taking the chance to escape, Kim Dokja slid out of his chair and left the classroom, valiantly ignoring the intimidating stare glued to his back. 

As an avid reader of web novels, Kim Dokja had naturally undergone a brief phase where he’d ingested every murder mystery plot online like a starving man. Armed with knowledge of every single cliché and twist, he knew he would not fall into this overly arrogant Yoo Jonghyuk’s hands and die a miserable death.

Victims always died when they got too entangled with the wrong person. Thus, the natural solution here was to avoid said wrong person at all costs.

Lunch was a dreary affair for someone like Kim Dokja, but he took pleasure in the fact that it effectively gave him more free time to read web novels. Ever since a certain day, Kim Dokja had also begun keeping up with one of his favorite web novels ever: “Ways of Survival” by tls123. It had almost daily updates, and Kim Dokja recalled he hadn’t read today’s chapter yet.

Before he got a phone, he used to read it on a computer. It was also how he had first found the story, staggering through a hospital ward after he… well, that wasn’t important.

With a contented sigh, Kim Dokja found a mostly empty hallway of the school and sat down on the floor, pulling out his phone. The story had only been going for a few months, but its reader count had already dwindled quite a lot from the initial chapters. Kim Dokja didn’t mind, as a majority of those early readers had been more content to slander the web novel with a hoard of inaccurate information than actually discuss anything worthwhile. With some of the things they said, Kim Dokja wasn’t sure if they had even been reading the same story.

He had only just begun to read through the first few lines of the new update when it struck him, like lightning splitting through the murky air.

“You’re Yoo Jonghyuk, right?”

Kim Dokja clicked his phone off and shut his eyes, wondering if he had been hallucinating. Perhaps he’d heard the name wrong. After all, there was no way some random stranger in his class would share the same name as the blockheaded (and admittedly, somewhat cool) protagonist of “Ways of Survival.”

Right?

Of course. Kim Dokja simply hadn’t been paying enough attention and had substituted the name he knew best into that space where the girls’ words had been, and naturally that name had been ‘Yoo Jonghyuk.’ 

Swallowing his doubts away, Kim Dokja turned his phone back on and continued to scroll through the rest of the chapter, resolving to stop worrying. All he needed to do was read, and what better option was there for someone like him, who had lived his whole life in the pages of stories?

Eventually class began again, and Kim Dokja settled into his seat just as the teacher took his position at the front. 

“Yoo Jonghyuk, begin reading from…”

Wait, what was this?

Kim Dokja glanced discreetly behind him as ‘Yoo Jonghyuk’ actually stood up in response to that name.

No, seriously?

This guy’s name was really ‘Yoo Jonghyuk?’ Kim Dokja hadn’t misheard? He looked back at Yoo Jonghyuk, who was reading the phrase out loud in a rather monotone voice. Kim Dokja got the impression that he would have preferred not to speak at all.

Finally, Yoo Jonghyuk sat down as the next student was called to read. As soon as he sat down, he made eye contact with Kim Dokja, who only then realized he was still staring. Kim Dokja turned away immediately.

As the school day ambled to a close, Kim Dokja hurriedly put his belongings away and slung his bag over his shoulder. Students had gathered around Yoo Jonghyuk’s desk again, their eyes bright as they asked questions about his home, his life, if he planned on playing any sports or not. 

Somehow, Yoo Jonghyuk resembled a black hole. Apart from his black hair and equally dark eyes, the boy kept drawing in more and more people, with a gravity so strong that Kim Dokja figured nothing could escape him once caught. 

All the more reason to avoid him, then. 

Unnoticed by the class, Kim Dokja quietly pushed open the classroom door and left the school building. 

On the train back to where he lived with his relatives, he thought of their unwelcoming stares and the musty attic they’d shoved him in. He thought of the muffled arguments downstairs that spitefully tossed his name around, the way his cousins frowned at him like he was an insect crawling on the floor.

Kim Dokja wasn’t sure why, but his grip around his phone tightened. Eventually, his heart—when had it sped up like that?—slowed down, and he breathed out slowly.

His arrival was quiet, nothing more than a shadow slipping through the door and collapsing in his small attic, hidden away. No one bothered to greet him, not that they ever had. Kim Dokja’s life was one of silence, after all.

That night, as he read about the protagonist’s feats in “Ways of Survival,” he realized that the character Yoo Jonghyuk and his classmate Yoo Jonghyuk shared more similarities than just their names. From the dark scowl to handsome features, they truly were almost identical. They were both widely admired by others, one with loyal companions and the other with adoring classmates. 

They were both, to Kim Dokja, untouchable. One on the other side of a screen, the other on the other side of a sea of people.

But at the very least, Kim Dokja was privy to some of the character Yoo Jonghyuk’s thoughts and actions. At the very least, Kim Dokja liked to think he knew the character incredibly well, as the only viewer of his story. Kim Dokja was a little depressed that he had no other fans to chat with about “Ways of Survival,” but he did take some pride in being its sole reader.

It was an interesting coincidence that his classmate was so similar to the character, but still a coincidence and nothing more.

Yoo Jonghyuk was not the type of person Kim Dokja wanted to get involved with, if their interactions on the first day told him anything. He wasn’t certain why the boy wanted to murder him, but he supposed if Yoo Jonghyuk had to murder someone, Kim Dokja would be the best candidate.

Yes, someone like Kim Dokja, who had no redeemable qualities...

He swallowed and turned his phone back on. He had already finished that day’s update, but a part of him decided to reread, if only to continue living in the world of his favorite story for a bit longer.

Kim Dokja read through the first few chapters of “Ways of Survival” until he couldn’t distinguish between the sentences, his eyes blurring. Yoo Jonghyuk had started the novel in his 3rd regression, and though he knew and had seen more than anyone should in a lifetime, he still struggled with new, unfamiliar obstacles. It was the weakness of a regressor who had made it to the future he didn’t know. Even so, Yoo Jonghyuk forged onwards, his resolve unshakeable.

As a reader, Kim Dokja couldn’t help but admire that.

After a few hours, the hand holding the phone slackened and Kim Dokja gently set the device down before he could drop it. Sleep wrapped around him in a thin shroud.

—

For the next few days at school, Kim Dokja resolved to stay away from his classmate Yoo Jonghyuk. While Yoo Jonghyuk’s swarm of fans made it much easier to avoid him, Kim Dokja ended up encountering other unfamiliar people instead.

A tall girl approached Kim Dokja one day as he walked to his usual spot during lunch. “Hey! You!”

“Y-yes?” Kim Dokja said, cursing at himself inwardly for stuttering.

She had gentle features, with high cheekbones and long, wavy hair pinned up in a loose bun. However, her tone and demeanor were anything but gentle.

“I am Jung Heewon. I wanted to thank you.”

Kim Dokja paused, trying to remember when in his life had he ever helped out someone like this girl.  

“I think you have the wrong person,” Kim Dokja finally managed.

“No, I have the right person. Thank you so much for buying me lunch the other day!”

“Did I?” Kim Dokja said. He didn’t even have enough money to buy himself lunch half the time.

“Please, tell me—what’s your name?” Jung Heewon plowed forward.

“Uh, you don’t really need to…”

“No, I insist!” Suddenly, Jung Heewon clapped a hand to her chest in a dramatic gesture. “How could I forgive myself, if I didn’t even have the decency to know the name of my savior?!”

Kim Dokja blinked at her. What?

“Just... say… something.” Jung Heewon muttered under her breath, dropping the ridiculous pose and voice. Her eyes shifted to someone behind Kim Dokja and something in his mind clicked. 

“I’m Kim Dokja.”

Jung Heewon’s face transformed into a triumphant grin, as if she’d won the lottery. “Really? That’s faaantastic. Why don’t we go on a date some time?”

“Ah…” Kim Dokja began before trailing off as Jung Heewon’s expression took on a rather dangerous look. “S-sure..?”

“Perfect!” Then Jung Heewon grabbed his arm and practically ran, dragging him along. Kim Dokja didn’t even have the chance to see who she had been avoiding.

After a few minutes, she stopped. Kim Dokja was out of breath and felt as though he might collapse at any second.

“My esteemed savior , I hate to say it, but you’re seriously bad at lying.” Jung Heewon blew hair out of her eyes.

“Sorry, it took me some time to catch on.” Kim Dokja said apologetically.

“Either way, I’m glad you caught on at all. Thank you.” Jung Heewon braced her hands on her hips as she looked at him. “So your name’s Kim Dokja, huh?”

“Ah, yes.”

“Where were you going, anyway? No one is ever around that part of the school, unless they’re trying to avoid someone.”

“Oh, I was…” 

“Or—hey, don’t tell me you’re one of those loner types?” Jung Heewon continued. “You know, like with no friends?”

“...”

“If you want, you can hang out with me and my friends. You seem like a decent guy, and we know those are rare—“

“Sorry, I think I left something back there, I have to go!” The lie tumbled out of Kim Dokja’s mouth and he was gone as quickly as he came, his legs suddenly having found the energy to carry him halfway across the school. He heard Jung Heewon calling after him and ignored her.

He wasn’t sure why he had run. The moment Jung Heewon had said the word “friends,” Kim Dokja had felt something cold crawl up his back, icy fingers digging into his spine, whispering that this wasn’t right.

What reason did she have to befriend him? Kim Dokja, a painfully average and unpopular student, had nothing to give her. Even if he ended up viewing her as a friend, it was likely she saw him as nothing more than a pity project.

That encounter wasn’t supposed to happen. Kim Dokja just wanted to be left alone and read, so how had this happened?

He paced around the hallway, his footsteps echoing throughout the school. Kim Dokja saw his faint reflection in the windows and stared for a moment at the face he’d come to care less about while growing up.

There was no need for him to worry about what he looked like, after all. He was a reader, and nobody cared much about the appearance of a reader. 

It was a tired face, with empty, cold eyes and dark circles. He couldn’t figure out what exactly it was that would make Jung Heewon want to befriend this face. 

Perhaps she was just like that, one of those people who gave out words of kindness too easily. 

Kim Dokja figured Jung Heewon should really think more when she said those kinds of things, or else the person hearing them might say yes.

—

Weeks fluttered by, and Kim Dokja continued to run away from Yoo Jonghyuk and Jung Heewon whenever they saw him. Yoo Jonghyuk’s fanbase had miraculously not stopped bothering him, which made Kim Dokja’s life much easier. And Yoo Sangah seemed to want nothing more than to simply greet him in the hallways, so Kim Dokja didn’t need to worry much about her either.

They were all people who shone brilliantly, like stars in the night sky, far away in a place Kim Dokja was not allowed in.

But it was all right. This was fine. As long as things continued like this, separate as the stars and the sea, he was safe.

One day, as he walked back from lunch, he saw Jung Heewon conversing with another taller male student. Yoo Sangah was there, as well. The male student was blushing a bit as he scratched his head, and Jung Heewon lightly punched his arm with a confident grin. Yoo Sangah had her mouth covered, but something akin to mirth sparkled in her eyes as she watched the exchange.

For a moment Kim Dokja couldn’t breathe, his feet rooted firmly to the ground as he watched from a distance. Jung Heewon said something and the boy shook his head vehemently, while Yoo Sangah’s barely-contained mirth started seeping out as her shoulders shook. The group stood by one of the hallway windows. Today was a sunny spring day, Kim Dokja noted, observing how warm light spilled over the other three students in a pleasant halo.

It was a bit like a dream, really. A moment tucked away in time, a precious thing that would shatter like glass if Kim Dokja reached out and tried to touch it. It reminded him of a few scenes from “Ways of Survival,” when during the rare breaks between scenarios, Yoo Jonghyuk would sit with his companions as they conversed about something oddly mundane, like going to a PC Bang when everything was over or eating pizza again. They were by no means exciting, but Kim Dokja had honestly really liked those scenes.

He looked at that group of friends again. Something burned in his chest at the sight, all-consuming and painful.

“If you want, you can hang out with me and my friends.”

Suddenly, some students walking by jostled Kim Dokja as they passed. Broken out of his reverie, Kim Dokja shook his head as he turned away from that warm scene. He resolutely walked through the shadowed hallways towards his classroom, refusing to look back.

As he sat through class, his gaze drifted out the window.

He hadn’t known Jung Heewon and Yoo Sangah were friends. Then again, they both seemed to have a rather friendly air about them, though one was more aggressive about it than the other. Who knew—maybe Yoo Sangah had felt bad for Kim Dokja on that first day and asked Jung Heewon to look out for him. There was also that male student, though Kim Dokja hadn’t been able to see his face clearly. 

It wasn’t anything particularly interesting, Kim Dokja told himself.

Even so, that afternoon Kim Dokja took more time than usual heading back from school (not that anyone was waiting for him). His eyes trailed after the withering spring blossoms on the road. The sky was a torturously familiar blue, wisps of clouds drifting across and disappearing without a care into the endless beyond. 

As the chattering of students faded behind him and a lonely gust of cold wind swept by, the world around him became quiet. Too quiet, perhaps, for a spring that had been in full bloom only a few days ago.

But it was peace, Kim Dokja reminded himself. An unnerving, cold and quiet kind of peace, but peace nonetheless.

—

Like always, even that sort of imperfect peace had to end.

It was during lunch, as Kim Dokja had been preparing to leave. A girl slid into the currently unoccupied seat next to him and leaned in rather close.

“Are you Kim Dokja?” The girl asked, her voice lowered in some mock imitation of a whisper. Naturally, everyone within a short radius could hear her loud and clear.

He cycled through what to say in his head when she spoke again, and his heart plummeted from its precarious perch in his chest to the floor in a sickening crash.

“Like, the child of the murderer who wrote The Underground Killer ?”

Chapter Text

Crumpled newspapers scattered across the city, the white sheets fluttering through the air like birds carrying an omen. Headlines and blurred photos were plastered to every paper, every screen in South Korea. 

Hungry eyes ravenously consumed every line of that wretched story. Words dripped like venom from their lips, spit flying out as they made flippant remarks on his life. They tore that story’s pages open to look inside, as if it were fiction, as if they knew who he was from a few ink letters bleeding through the paper.

To them, he was just a character on a page, an existence reduced to mere words.

—

Kim Dokja stood up abruptly, the realization setting in.

“Hey, where are you going?” The girl whined.

Transferring schools would never be enough to erase that dull, boring tragedy from his life. It would cling to him forever, an unwanted, ugly parasite that dug into him like a blade and tightened around his neck like a noose.

“Sorry, I need to…” he muttered, shakily stepping away, not sure where he was headed. 

The girl grabbed his arm and he flinched, violently flinging her off. She recoiled so far that she fell onto the floor, but Kim Dokja was too caught up in remembering how to breathe to care.

“So it’s true,” she whimpered, rubbing at her head, “you’re violent like they said.”

“I—” Kim Dokja tried to blurt out another apology? Insult? He didn’t know. What was there to say?

The whole class was spectating the commotion now. A sea of eyes watched him, probing and intrusive. They bore down on him endlessly, judging and questioning, jeering at him. 

Then came the whispers, spreading in ripples. Voices spilled uncaringly into the air, a chilling storm sweeping through the room. 

“ Wait, I knew that guy looked familiar… ”

“ I read that book! So his mom’s a psycho? ”

“ Oh my god, do you think he’s also…? ”

It washed over him in an icy wave, stinging like needles into his skin. For a moment his vision swam and a ringing sound pulsed in his ears, the whispers intensifying in volume. Kim Dokja mumbled another unintelligible phrase, excusing himself and staggering out of the room.

He walked for a while, not certain of where he was going. He just needed to leave that place behind, swim away from the freezing tide of speculation and scorn.

Eventually he ducked into an empty stairwell. Through the window, gray and white clouds cluttered the sky outside, like a thin cloth cast over the pale sun. The sight of the open air rooted him to the spot, calming his beating heart. For a moment he could breathe, his head above water.

He relished the silence, devoid of the tormenting whispers.  

After he’d calmed down, Kim Dokja crouched under the stairs, his stomach rumbling. His relatives had conveniently forgotten to give him money to buy lunch today, though it happened so frequently that he’d grown used to it. 

Instead, Kim Dokja pulled out his phone and opened another “Ways of Survival” chapter. As long as these stories kept him company, it would be okay. Stringing himself along, savoring every word to fill up the void in his stomach. In a way, he was no different from the people who ate up the article his mother wrote. 

And just as soon as he’d found that fragile silence, it was broken.

Heavy steps echoed throughout the stairwell, before coming to a stop.

“What are you doing?” 

Yoo Jonghyuk towered over him. He was a sight to behold as usual, but currently Kim Dokja was more concerned with getting out of this situation alive. How had Yoo Jonghyuk found him?

Not sure what to do, Kim Dokja opened his mouth, before clamping it shut.

After a few more seconds of silence, Yoo Jonghyuk frowned and tossed something at him. It hit Kim Dokja’s chest and fell to the floor. Confused, Kim Dokja picked up the crumpled piece of paper. He unrolled it, his eyes widening at the sight of his trusty map that he’d lost on the first day of school.

“What—”

“I’m assuming that’s yours.” Yoo Jonghyuk said, his eyes betraying nothing.

“Yes,” Kim Dokja said. What was the point of giving him this now? “Why did you—”

“You should stop losing your belongings. Returning it to you was a waste of my time.” Yoo Jonghyuk interrupted.

“I didn’t ask for you to return this,” Kim Dokja shot back. Besides, it was Yoo Jonghyuk’s fault he’d lost it in the first place. “What’s the real reason behind this, Yoo Jonghyuk?”

His brooding classmate didn’t seem like the type to do things for others, least of all Kim Dokja. 

“Does there need to be one?”

“Of course. There always is.”

Yoo Jonghyuk shut his eyes, as if thinking, before opening them again. “Because the sight of you bothers me.”

“…What?” 

No matter how much Kim Dokja thought about it, Yoo Jonghyuk’s words and actions didn’t line up. 

“Why didn’t you stand up to that girl?” Yoo Jonghyuk continued. 

Kim Dokja bit his lip. So Yoo Jonghyuk had been watching earlier. Considering how loud that girl had been, it wasn’t a surprise. Then he’d probably heard all the rumors by now as well.

“I…”

“Are you really this weak?” Yoo Jonghyuk demanded.

Kim Dokja stiffened.

Weak.

Fine, he was weak. Kim Dokja had always known this, otherwise he wouldn’t be so drawn to Yoo Jonghyuk in “Ways of Survival,” the embodiment of everything he wasn’t. Even so, hearing the words said aloud left a bitter taste on Kim Dokja’s tongue. 

“So is that the issue, then?” Kim Dokja said, feeling rather bold considering he was alone with his possible would-be murderer. “All of this—like you grabbing me that day and making me late was because I’m weak ?”

“You...” Yoo Jonghyuk trailed off.

Instead of finishing his sentence, Yoo Jonghyuk glared at him with the same look he’d had that first day they met.

“What, is this the look you give to all of your victims before killing them?” Kim Dokja snapped, surprising himself.

Something akin to bloodlust flickered in Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes. Kim Dokja shuddered.

… He was really going to die to this guy now, wasn’t he.

To his surprise, Yoo Jonghyuk abruptly turned around and walked away, before stopping. “Class is starting soon.” 

Then he turned right and disappeared out of view. 

Kim Dokja stared after him, the crumpled map clutched in his hand. 

What?

—

The rumors didn’t take long to spread. Anyone who was bored to tears by their academics and school routines would have clung to the news, that the son of a case that made national headlines attended their school. In a way, it was worse than the reporters that used to hound him down during the first year after the article was published. 

A few days after the stairwell incident, Kim Dokja found that walking through the school was like swimming through a sea of shattered glass. No matter where he looked or turned, a biting line or scathing remark awaited. He didn’t know how it spread so fast. But all rumors were like that, a series of disjointed phrases connecting and blooming like poisonous flowers.

He could deal with the words, the oppressive ocean bearing down on him. It was fine, as long as he wrapped himself in the stories on his phone, hidden from the cacophony outside.

If Yoo Jonghyuk could survive hundreds of regressions and keep fighting in “Ways of Survival,” then Kim Dokja could easily survive this. As long as Yoo Jonghyuk never gave up, neither would Kim Dokja.

It was a good thing Kim Dokja hadn’t involved himself with Jung Heewon and her friends. Because Kim Dokja had never gotten close to them, he would feel nothing when they made the same disgusted, disappointed expressions as everyone else.

—

It was a rainy day when he got his first bruise. 

“Hey, aren’t you Kim Dokja?” 

Kim Dokja looked up from his phone. It was a rather tall first-year, from the looks of it, with arched eyebrows and a mocking smile. A few other boys stood around him.

“... Yes?”

“Oh, good. Great.” The first-year stretched languidly, before throwing a fist at his face.

Kim Dokja staggered backwards as pain erupted, his head throbbing.

“I heard you’re the son of a murderer. You got into a lot of fights back in middle school, huh?”

Kim Dokja looked around frantically. It was lunch, and he’d been leaning against a wall at the end of a hallway that people didn’t frequent very often. If he wanted to run, then he should—

“The hell are you looking at?” The first-year dragged Kim Dokja forward by the collar of his uniform. “I was talking to you.”

“... Isn’t class starting soon?” Kim Dokja tried, to no avail. He raised his arms up to block another punch, but considering his bony frame, it wasn’t particularly useful.

“Who cares? You know, I’ve seen you before in the halls. You never talk to anyone.” The first-year slammed Kim Dokja against the wall.

“What do you want from me?” Kim Dokja croaked, the air knocked out of him.

The first-year smiled, his lips pulling apart like a wolf baring its teeth. “My name’s Song Minwoo. You should remember it.” 

Then he punched Kim Dokja in the gut.

Kim Dokja doubled over, clutching feebly at his stomach. 

“Is it true?” One of Song Minwoo’s friends snickered. “People say you jumped.”

Kim Dokja froze, his blood chilling. For a moment he saw an indigo sky, wavering above him.

“Why’d you jump, huh? Is it cause you couldn’t handle being the son of a murderer?” Song Minwoo leaned in and spat.

At their words, Kim Dokja bit his lip so hard he drew blood, his fingers digging into his palms. Seeing this, Song Minwoo stood back and started clapping sarcastically.

“Woah, look at him, he’s mad. You know what they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” 

“Ooooh, I’m so scared,” one of the boys cackled.

“The sight of a loser like you seriously pisses me off.” Song Minwoo said, stepping towards Kim Dokja. Before he could bury his foot in Kim Dokja’s face, Kim Dokja raised his arms up and grunted as Song Minwoo kicked them with the hard heel of his shoe.

I am Yoo Jonghyuk . Kim Dokja silently thought, envisioning himself as the hero who wouldn’t be beaten down by something like this.

“Honestly, it’s no good having a psycho at our school. Maybe you should’ve actually died, yes?” Song Minwoo smiled. The other boys laughed like it was funny.

I am Yoo Jonghyuk , he repeated.

The rain pounded outside the school window, a constant melody like waves beating against the shore. When Song Minwoo and his goons got bored of kicking Kim Dokja around, they left him in the hallway, the bell signaling the start of class going off.

I am Yoo Jonghyuk. Like a mantra, a prayer, he thought that to himself.

After a while, Kim Dokja slowly pushed himself up. He made his way towards classroom 1-B, walking as steadily as someone with their head pounding and ears ringing could. After a while he gave up and leaned against the wall, trying to ignore how his bruises ached and his muscles pulled. 

In “Ways of Survival,” Yoo Jonghyuk had definitely gone through much worse. Thus, Kim Dokja could handle this.

“Kim Dokja-ssi?” A voice exclaimed. He looked up to see Yoo Sangah rushing over with wide eyes.

That was strange. Didn’t she usually just wave at him and leave him alone? Why was she coming over now?

Suddenly, Jung Heewon showed up next to Yoo Sangah. She was carrying a box filled with papers in her arms.

Oh, no. This was bad.

“Dokja-ssi. Who did this to you?” Jung Heewon demanded sharply.

This was very bad.

“I fell,” Kim Dokja’s mouth moved on its own, his face straight.

Jung Heewon’s eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to say something else, when Yoo Sangah shushed her. “Heewon-ssi, let’s get him to the infirmary first.” 

Kim Dokja tried protesting, “You don’t need to—” 

They dragged Kim Dokja to the infirmary against his will. As he sat on the creaking bed, his arms wrapped in bandages and a bandaid covering the scars on his face, he shivered.

Jung Heewon crossed her arms. “Someone did that to you.” 

“Yes, and that someone was me.”

Jung Heewon snorted in disbelief.

“Like I said, I fell.” Kim Dokja said. “I’m clumsy.”

Yoo Sangah came over after talking with the nurse. “Please tell us the truth, Dokja-ssi. We’re here for you, so if someone is troubling you or...”

Her voice came across as the ghost of an echo, as though she were shouting at him from the top of a gaping chasm that Kim Dokja had yet to escape.

“You’re not alone. We’re here for you. Just tell us what happened with your mother!”

“If you don’t respond, the world will misunderstand. You have to respond for your own sake, Dokja-ssi.”

Yoo Sangah reached out a hand towards him. Kim Dokja stared at it, and was hit with a memory.

He was twelve again, his mother’s pale face against a backdrop of blood still fresh in his memory. Each time the camera shutters went off he saw her, the incessant clicking and whirring creating a discordant hum.

That time, he’d been hiding after getting horribly lost while running from a wave of reporters. Someone had given him a hand back then, and he had been so lonely in that ocean of gray buildings and black asphalt that he’d foolishly, naively, taken it.

And then, that warm hand turned to traitorous ice, a riptide dragging him back into the reporters.

“ Why did you run away?”

“Did you feel the need to hide something?”  

In “Ways of Survival,” Yoo Jonghyuk could cut down all his enemies with the unwavering confidence befitting of a protagonist. Kim Dokja knew that Yoo Jonghyuk would have pushed past that sea of reporters with ease. 

But he was not Yoo Jonghyuk, the protagonist. He was Kim Dokja, the lonely child, and all he could do was drown under their questions.

“Just—give us the names,” Jung Heewon was saying. Her eyes were like flames, alight with some resolute determination. It reminded him of a knight pledging to avenge their lord.

Why? Why did she seem so impassioned? She and Yoo Sangah had no reason to help him. No one really did.

He couldn’t help them grow or protect them like Yoo Jonghyuk could in “Ways of Survival.” To begin with, Kim Dokja had nothing to give them.

They weren’t supposed to act like this. Where were their grimaces and disapproving looks?

“You’re always alone, even though we’ve…” Yoo Sangah looked down at her folded hands, then back up at him. “Is it because of—of the rumors?” 

“Ah.” Kim Dokja said quietly. “So you’ve heard them.” 

Jung Heewon was silent, while Yoo Sangah nodded slowly. “If they’re true, then… Dokja-ssi, I’m really sorry.”

Of course she was sorry. It was always either a meaningless apology or a vicious curse, and always from someone who could never truly understand.

Kim Dokja began noticing things he hadn’t before—the way Yoo Sangah shifted uneasily, or the way Jung Heewon kept clenching and unclenching her fists.

He could tell neither of them really wanted to be here. They had helped him simply because they were good people. They had helped him in the way that someone pitying a starving dog would.

The air in the infirmary was stifling. Kim Dokja looked outside, but the rain-streaked window was hazy. All he could see was the blurred water, concealing what lay beyond the glass pane.   

He had never asked to be the star of some chilling family drama, to be some morbid story sold to the world. He had never asked to be the subject of venomous whispers and derisive laughter, or to smile and nod as people gave him empty apologies. He had never asked for anything, and yet he still managed to be this pathetic.

Kim Dokja laughed. It was a poisonous sound that tore from his stomach, something he had to vomit up and force out. Perhaps no one in the world besides him would call it a laugh.

“Thank you for taking me to the infirmary. But I don’t need your pity or sympathy,” Kim Dokja finally said to Jung Heewon and Yoo Sangah. “I never asked for it.”

He pushed himself off of the infirmary bed and didn’t look back.

—

Afterwards, Kim Dokja switched to his winter uniform. It was late spring, but he would rather be mocked for his uniform choices than for the ugly purple splotches and faded bandages announcing how weak he was. 

If he were Yoo Jonghyuk, with his gleaming sword and powerful abilities, he wouldn’t have to go through this. But at the very least, he could wear the mantle of a protagonist he could never be, and pretend it didn’t hurt that much.

So he pulled that mantle of the protagonist tighter around himself each day, shielding himself with more stories. It was much better to drown in someone else’s fictional tragedy than his own, numbingly real one. He could pull himself out of a book, but he couldn’t pull himself out of his own life.

He knew this because he had tried both.

Sometimes he would be able to avoid Song Minwoo and his gang. Other times he wasn’t so lucky. Kim Dokja would end up going to class late, or a new bruise would appear on his face like watercolor on a canvas. When his teachers occasionally asked what had happened to him, without any real care behind their words, he’d tell them what they wanted to hear—that he got into a fight, that he was clumsy, that he was wrong.

No one had ever cared enough to find the truth, so it was okay. Kim Dokja had learned a long time ago not to expect anything. 

Eventually, the teachers no longer wanted to put up with Kim Dokja.

Another day of being harassed by Song Minwoo. The bruises and shakiness of his limbs were a constant presence now—Kim Dokja thought that it would be stranger for them not to be there.

He emerged into class late, a bandage on his cheek and his eyes downcast. His phone sprouted new cracks from Song Minwoo’s gang tossing it around, before they’d ordered him to buy them lunch if he wanted it back.

A part of Kim Dokja believed that if he had the strength, he’d beat Song Minwoo and his friends to death. 

Instead he meekly ran and bought them lunch, like the weakling he was.

“Kim Dokja. Late again?” The teacher said, an unimpressed tone coloring his voice.

Kim Dokja bowed slightly, studying the floor. “I fell,” he said. He said this every time. No one believed him. 

The classroom was deathly quiet. At least, that was how it would be if Kim Dokja could pretend he was deaf. But he wasn’t, and whispers about how he was supposedly violent, about how he had tried to kill himself at his middle school, echoed around the room.

They were quiet at first, subtle and manageable. Then they grew in number, until Kim Dokja could practically feel their hushed voices swarming around him like flies. It would be a fitting image, he supposed, starring him as the rotting corpse he should have been.

But there was his heartbeat, thudding in his chest, a painful reminder that he had survived. He clutched his phone, tracing the cracked edges with his fingers, thinking of the story on the screen.

Kim Dokja drowned out the barbed words swirling about him with simple lines from “Ways of Survival,” taking the story and wrapping it around himself like a cloak. For a few, precious moments, the storm of rumors seemed to quiet down.

Eventually his breathing slowed, and he looked up at the teacher, careful to keep his face blank. The teacher sighed and rapped his fingers on the desk.

“I’ll put you on cleaning duty for now,” the teacher said.

“Yes, sir.” Kim Dokja responded.

A certain intimidating student stared at him from the back of the room. Kim Dokja made sure not to make eye contact.

—

Kim Dokja absentmindedly pushed the mop around the room as students began cleaning up and leaving the school, his mind adrift.

Even after he finished mopping the floor and clearing all the litter away, he ended up staying in the classroom until the golden sunset streamed through the windows, light pooling on the ground.

Kim Dokja leaned against the glass and watched students go home in groups, laughing and teasing each other. Their eyes sparkled with glee, their mouths constantly tilted upwards in a smile. 

It was a world that seemed so foreign to him, even though he had always lived right next to it. 

After some more time had passed, Kim Dokja stood up and reached for the latches that kept the classroom windows closed. 

Before he could open the first latch, something grabbed his arm and wrenched him backwards. Kim Dokja stumbled, bracing his hand on a nearby desk to prevent himself from falling over. The person gripping his arm refused to budge.

With a short sigh, Kim Dokja looked up to identify the person who’d decided to make his life miserable this time.

It was none other than Yoo Jonghyuk, his face contorted into an emotion that Kim Dokja wasn’t sure he could describe. Anger? Ah, that had to be right. After all, this guy had been staking Kim Dokja out earlier, preparing to murder him.

“What are you doing?” Yoo Jonghyuk finally spoke, his eyes searching Kim Dokja’s face.

“Opening the classroom window,” Kim Dokja said matter-of-factly. “The real question is, what are you doing, Yoo Jonghyuk?”

Yoo Jonghyuk looked at Kim Dokja, then back at the window. His mouth shut, and he frowned. Feeling the grip on his arm loosen, Kim Dokja wriggled out of Yoo Jonghyuk’s grasp and nursed his wrist, groaning. Why was a high schooler so strong?

“Don’t.” Yoo Jonghyuk said.

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t—”

“Don’t jump?” 

Yoo Jonghyuk curled his hand into a fist. Kim Dokja was pretty certain Yoo Jonghyuk could take him out in one hit.

“You heard the rumors, didn’t you?” Kim Dokja continued, his voice much steadier than he felt. 

“You..”

Kim Dokja inclined his head, waiting. He knew better than to listen to this guy, but he wanted to try anyway.

“Did you really jump?” Yoo Jonghyuk asked, his voice somewhat quieter than usual. His eyes were unreadable.

Kim Dokja almost laughed at how straightforward the question was. When people tried to talk to him about it, they were always anything but straightforward. 

“Does it matter? It’s not an interesting story.” He replied.

“Answer me properly.” Yoo Jonghyuk demanded, back to his normal volume.

“Why should I?” Kim Dokja said. Somehow, he felt braver—and angrier—than usual. “Are you going to tell me how I should’ve died back then, or how sorry you are for me?”

Yoo Jonghyuk shifted and narrowed his eyes. From this angle, they seemed to capture the sunset and craft it into molten gold. “I won’t tell you either of those things.”

It was a response Kim Dokja hadn’t been expecting. 

Seeing that Kim Dokja was unable to reply, Yoo Jonghyuk continued speaking. “Regardless of the rumors, you shouldn’t treat your life so flippantly.”

Kim Dokja snorted. “You don’t know me, Yoo Jonghyuk. So you shouldn’t say things as if you do.”

No one had given Yoo Jonghyuk the right over Kim Dokja’s life, so he shouldn’t speak as if he did. There was no reason for his classmate to act so arrogantly. 

“I don’t get it,” Kim Dokja continued, thinking of how often this bastard showed up to ruin his life. “What do you want from me? Did I do something to you?”

“I said it before.”

“Said what ?” Kim Dokja demanded. 

“The sight of you…” 

“What, the sight of me bothers you?” Kim Dokja snapped, recalling Yoo Jonghyuk’s words.

From Song Minwoo to Yoo Sangah and Jung Heewon, all Kim Dokja seemed to do was bother people. He had tried his best not to get in the way, to leave his past behind and live quietly, reading novels. Yet, no matter what he did he couldn’t escape that damn story he’d once lived through.

“Kim Dokja.” Yoo Jonghyuk said. Something swirled in his eyes, and Kim Dokja read that dark color as nothing other than disdain.

Something fumed in Kim Dokja’s chest, an oppressive heat that threatened to break out like a star exploding.

He didn’t care if Yoo Jonghyuk thought him to be some weak, pathetic loser, or if Yoo Sangah and Jung Heewon saw him as some charity case. He didn’t care if Song Minwoo thought of him as a punching bag. They were all no different from the reporters who craved the story his mother told.

Kim Dokja knew what this difficult bastard would say next. He’d start spewing more insults about how weak Kim Dokja was, or how the sight of him was disgusting. He’d heard it a thousand times before, and he didn’t expect Yoo Jonghyuk to be any different.

He was a little upset with himself for even hoping in the first place.

No matter how much he tried to understand Yoo Jonghyuk’s actions, none of it made sense. If he hated Kim Dokja so much, what was the point in returning the map? If the sight of Kim Dokja was so horrible, why did he keep seeking him out? 

The feeling in his chest flashed, hot white, and something in him splintered.

“I get it, I get it. I’m pathetic. I’m weak.” Kim Dokja chuckled resentfully. “And? What’s new, you bastard?”

He stepped forward, not sure what kind of expression was on his face right now. “Or what? Do you want to kill me?” He laughed, his voice rough. “You can try throwing me out the window if you want. I’m sure you could do it properly, even if I couldn’t!” 

Kim Dokja knew it better than anyone else in the world. He knew that ‘Kim Dokja’ was a lonely reader, who only found solace in the stories of people who didn’t exist. That ‘Kim Dokja’ was in fact an extremely angry person, who was always too weak to show it.

When Yoo Jonghyuk didn’t say anything, Kim Dokja gritted his teeth. 

He’d said too much, gone too far.

So Kim Dokja shoveled the putrid mess of his words back where they belonged, sealing them away. He slammed the splintered pieces of his heart together and prayed they would hold.

He’d build an even thicker wall than before. A wall that couldn’t be surpassed so easily.

And if that wall broke? Then he’d just build another. 

Finally, after an eon of silence elapsed, Kim Dokja muttered, “Just… If you really hate me so much, then leave me alone.”

“Wait.”

Ignoring him, Kim Dokja left the classroom, the unmistakable tang of salt on his tongue and his vision oddly blurry.

—

As Kim Dokja trudged towards the convenience store to buy kimbap before heading to his house, he caught sight of a playground. It was relatively small, with nothing much besides a set of swings, a slide, and a few other contraptions, but something about it reminded him of a life he used to have the privilege of living.

He made his way over to one of the swings and settled down, noticing how it easily took his weight. Kim Dokja figured it was one of the benefits of skipping half of his meals and subsisting primarily on store-bought kimbap. After staring across the playground, where several little kids were messing around with a ball, he fished out his weathered phone from his pocket and began to read some more of “Ways of Survival.”

As Kim Dokja got lost in the fantastical world of scenarios and constellations, he finally felt himself relax, as if embracing an old friend. For a few minutes, he wasn’t some weak, bruised boy. He was just a reader, cheering on someone who he admired more than anything else in the world.

Today’s chapter was painful, but with a story like “Ways of Survival,” when was it ever not painful? Yoo Jonghyuk had begun yet another regression, and he was now an exceptionally cold and jaded character. Having lost his companions many times over, he distanced himself from them, creating a wall between himself and everyone else…

Reading it made Kim Dokja somewhat unhappy. He began typing a comment to the author, tls123, asking if it was really okay for Yoo Jonghyuk to be like this. After so many other chapters of death and suffering, wasn’t he allowed to be happy sometimes, to smile with his companions? 

Realizing he still had over half the new chapter left, Kim Dokja hurriedly deleted the comment, deciding to finish it before he commented anything. However, as he continued scrolling down the page, getting more and more invested into Yoo Jonghyuk’s lonely and sorrowful journey, he could only sigh.

It seemed that the protagonist was as blockheaded as ever. His companions were clearly there. Even if they didn’t remember, they would still try their best to stay by Yoo Jonghyuk’s side. Why couldn’t Yoo Jonghyuk recognize that they cared about him?

Even if he’d suffered a lot, he shouldn’t push away his companions so readily.

After Kim Dokja finished the chapter, he ended up retyping everything he had written previously but with more fervor than before. Seriously, he had been hoping the chapter would end up differently, but it had done the exact opposite. He hit send on the comment and straightened up on the swing.

He lightly swung back and forth, thinking. Ah, what did it matter if his life was crumbling to pieces? As long as he had “Ways of Survival,” as long as Yoo Jonghyuk didn’t give up, Kim Dokja wouldn’t either. 

Then again, all stories came to an end one day, didn’t they?

Kim Dokja stared at his phone, worry curling around his heart. What would happen when ‘Ways of Survival” reached its conclusion?

He didn’t know. 

Kim Dokja heard voices calling out in his direction, and wondered if the parents of the kids he’d seen earlier had arrived to pick them up. Either way, he had nothing to do with it.

The voices grew louder, while Kim Dokja wondered if he should reread a few of the earlier chapters of “Ways of Survival.”

Then a ball came flying into his face.

Chapter Text

The boy lay in bed, tucked away in the corner of his darkened room. Shadows would come and go, the brutal minutes hesitantly ticking by. 

Of course, he was quite used to the monster by now. Just like the shadows it would come and go, its bloodlust creeping up the walls, its anger writhing in the cracks between floorboards. Shut doors could not smother its ear splitting howls.

Hours passed. He didn’t know if he had fallen asleep or not. But eventually, the sun peeked through the blinds of his window, the morning rays reaching out to him like salvation. 

The boy clung to the light as if it was his mother, squeezing his eyes shut. 

—

“Lee Gilyoung you stupid idiot! You just killed ahjussi!” A panicked voice came from above Kim Dokja.

Ahjussi…? He was in high school, and someone was calling him that?

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry hyung...” another watery voice sobbed.

Kim Dokja blearily opened his eyes. 

Something dug into his back, chafing against his spine. He shifted and groaned, trying to get more comfortable before realizing he was lying on a bench.

Kim Dokja immediately sat up, ignoring several alarmed cries. He felt fine, but found it a bit odd how the world tilted on its axis, the playground slipping up into the air instead of staying on the ground like it was supposed to. 

Then he blacked out.

Moments later he opened his eyes again, receiving a first-class view of the golden sun about to dip below the horizon.

“He’s alive!” Suddenly, two faces popped into his vision, one of a frowning girl with short hair, another of a tearful boy.

How old were these kids, anyway? They couldn’t be more than 8 or 9, from the looks of it.

“I’m really sorry hyung!” The boy blubbered. 

“You’d better be!” The girl scolded the boy.

With a sigh, Kim Dokja sat up slowly. His head throbbed and he felt mildly nauseous, but at least this time he wasn’t about to bowl over. After leaning back on the bench, he saw the two kids staring at him with wide eyes.

They were short, and even though Kim Dokja was sitting they still only came up to his chest. Unsure of what to do in order to comfort them, he ended up awkwardly raising his hands and ruffling their hair. “Hey, don’t cry…” 

At this, the two children burst into tears. 

Kim Dokja hurriedly took his hands back, privately accepting that he was simply made to bring misery wherever he went. He tilted his head, now completely at a loss.

... If anything, shouldn’t he be the one crying right now? 

He thought for a bit. Either way, he didn’t want these kids’ parents to come and find some random high schooler had driven their children to tears. Kim Dokja reached around in his pockets, finding a few won that he’d been saving.

“Wait here, I’ll be back,” he said, before getting up and jogging into a nearby convenience store. He picked out two ice cream bars (the cheap kind, naturally) and bought them with a sigh.

As he exited the store, he found the kids were still where he had left them. He handed an ice cream bar to each. The boy—Lee Gilyoung, he remembered—sniffed, before tearing open the wrapper. He bit into the ice cream bar and finished in mere seconds. Kim Dokja watched in slight amazement before checking on the girl, who… was already finished.

He shook his head. At the very least, both kids had stopped crying.

“Hyung, this ice cream… tastes really bland,” Lee Gilyoung finally said, vigorously wiping his face free of tears.

“Sorry, I didn’t have much won on me.” Kim Dokja said apologetically.

“No, we should be sorry.” The girl interrupted, finally standing up. “Lee Gilyoung has bad hand-eye coordination, so he ended up throwing the ball at your face. Please forgive him!”

“Shut up, Shin Yoosung!” Lee Gilyoung said, his face turning red. 

“And thank you for the ice cream. I thought it tasted really good,” Shin Yoosung said, glaring at Lee Gilyoung.

“E-even if the ice cream could be better, I really appreciated it! More than her, I bet!” Lee Gilyoung stuttered.

Shin Yoosung made a face and Lee Gilyoung tried to kick her. 

Sensing this was a common occurrence between these two, Kim Dokja held his hands out.

“Wait—wait, uh, don’t fight.” Kim Dokja pleaded. 

The two kids glanced up at him and then looked away. Shin Yoosung looked at the ground and Lee Gilyoung fidgeted, before straightening up and walking over to Kim Dokja.

He wordlessly took out a small, black object and handed it to Kim Dokja. Realizing it was his phone, Kim Dokja hurried flipped it around and turned it on. Luckily, it wasn’t any more battered than usual. 

Lee Gilyoung stood still, his hands balled into fists. Like a taut string, he seemed to be waiting for something with bated breath, his shoulders drawn up. 

Kim Dokja stared at the boy for a moment, before turning his phone off with a click . Lee Gilyoung flinched at the sound, and something wormed away at Kim Dokja’s mind.

He hesitantly reached forward and placed his hand on Lee Gilyoung’s head. The motion felt natural to him, somehow. Then Kim Dokja remembered what had happened last time he tried it and quickly withdrew his hand. He didn’t have the money to buy more ice cream bars...

Yet instead of crying this time, Lee Gilyoung just looked up at him with wide eyes.

Seriously, these kids were so confusing.

A few awkward beats of silence passed, and Kim Dokja decided to try shifting the conversation topic. “Do you guys usually come here to play?”

“No, we usually just go to our friend’s house after school,” Shin Yoosung said. “But her older brother went to some overnight competition far away so she went to stay with Jihye-unnie and her parents instead.”

“Today I said we should go to the playground, even though Shin Yoosung really wanted to go to the park.” Lee Gilyoung, his posture visibly more relaxed, crossed his arms.

“I didn’t want to go to the park that bad .”

“Yes you did! You were yelling at me the whole way here! Shin Yoosung, you better stop lying!”

Realizing where this was headed, Kim Dokja cut in. “Actually, Shin Yoosung, you have the same name as a character in my favorite web novel.”

It was another coincidence Kim Dokja had noticed. His life seemed to have a lot of those recently.

The two kids slowly turned their heads towards him. “Hyung, you like reading web novels?” Lee Gilyoung asked. Kim Dokja felt a little embarrassed under the two kids’ scrutiny, but he had already come this far so he reasoned there was no point in going back.

“You could say that it’s… a hobby of mine.” 

Lee Gilyoung gasped, his eyes shining. “Was I in the web novel?” 

“No. Sorry, Lee Gilyoung,” Kim Dokja said. He watched the boy’s expression fall and felt somewhat bad. Though, it might be better if he wasn’t in the novel, considering how much the characters suffered.

“What’s the character me like?” Shin Yoosung demanded, butting in.

Kim Dokja tapped his chin, a glint appearing in his eye. He almost never got to talk about “Ways of Survival” to anyone else, so he briefly relished the fact that he had finally found an opportunity to do so. To be fair, it was two children, but they seemed rather intelligent for their age.

And unlike his classmates, their faces were completely devoid of the simmering disdain he’d grown accustomed to.

“You were…” Kim Dokja thought for a moment. “A very thoughtful and devoted companion to the main character. You were willing to travel through thousands of years just to help him.” 

He remembered reading about Yoo Jonghyuk’s flashbacks to the second regression, and how the Shin Yoosung of the 41st regression had sacrificed so much to give him information about the future. And yet, Yoo Jonghyuk had somehow always failed to properly acknowledge Shin Yoosung. Never once did Kim Dokja recall Yoo Jonghyuk uttering the words she wanted to hear most. 

If Kim Dokja was there, he would have tried to slap some sense into Yoo Jonghyuk.

“ Were?! Did book me die or something?” Shin Yoosung pouted.

“Ah—” Kim Dokja stammered. “Too many spoilers.”

“But it’s not like I’m ever gonna read that web novel of yours!” 

“No. I won’t tell you.”

“What’s this main character like, anyway?” Hearing Shin Yoosung’s dismissive tone, Kim Dokja felt somewhat inclined to jump to his favorite protagonist’s defense.

“He’s a regressor. He wears all black, and is extremely handsome,” Kim Dokja said. People liked cool and attractive characters, right?

“Are you saying I just followed him around in the story because he was handsome?” Shin Yoosung complained.

“No! Well, a little bit?” 

Shin Yoosung’s eyes turned dark, and Kim Dokja backtracked immediately. “I mean, he’s a bit arrogant, but he’s also very strong and is trying to get through these difficult scenarios.”

“He sounds like a sooty bastard.” Lee Gilyoung muttered.

“Hey, wait—”

“Did he ever buy me an ice cream bar?” Shin Yoosung asked.

“Uh, no, not yet…”

“I’d rather follow you around, ahjussi!”

This again. “I’m not even in the novel… and why do you keep calling me ahjussi? I’m only in high school.” Kim Dokja sighed.

“I don’t know, it feels right,” Shin Yoosung said, leaving no room for discussion. “And even if you weren’t in the novel, I’d find my way to you regardless!”

“Me too!” Lee Gilyoung said, despite not being in the novel either. “That sooty bastard is lame compared to you, hyung.”

“Come on, he’s not that bad!” 

“I think ahjussi is just too nice.”

“Well, in the story Shin Yoosung thinks he’s the coolest captain ever.”

“No! I’m gonna change my name, then!”

“You know what? You guys should just go and play or do whatever kids your age do,” Kim Dokja said. “I’ll just read my favorite web novel with the protagonist that both of you really hate for some reason...”

“Hey, you’re not even an adult yet, so why should we listen?” Lee Gilyoung complained, while Shin Yoosung giggled.

Kim Dokja pointedly ignored them, turning on his phone screen and trying to read. He spent more time keeping the phone out of Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung’s reach than actually reading. Half the time one kid would shove the other over trying to see his screen, and then they’d start punching each other.

Eventually he gave up and opened a different web novel. It was honestly quite terrible and convoluted, and Kim Dokja wasn’t sure why he had this story bookmarked. Not wanting the kids to beat each other up to a pulp, he cleared his throat. “I’m going to read this story out loud until you guys stop.”

And so he began reading out loud rather sarcastically, putting on a weasley voice for the pathetic main character, a prince who was about to be executed by the love of his life. As he read, Kim Dokja really couldn’t feel anything for this novel. The main character was the polar opposite of Yoo Jonghyuk, and did no more than whine about how he was talentless and get drunk for the first five chapters or so. Still, it was pretty popular, so it must have something redeeming, right…?

After a while, his throat grew sore and he stopped reading, rubbing his eyes. When he looked up the kids had surprisingly stopped fighting, instead sitting in front of him with expectant stares. 

Kim Dokja cleared his throat, drumming his fingers on the back of his phone. So threatening them with an awful novel seemed to have worked.

“Hey, is there more?” Lee Gilyoung tugged on his sleeve. “I like this protagonist.”

He blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, and then blinked again. “What?”

“He’s really nice! Even though the queen-lady wants to kill him, he still doesn’t hate her for what she did.” Shin Yoosung said.

“Yeah, he’s way better than the main character of the other story you were reading.”

“Can you read more? Please, please please!” Shin Yoosung clapped her hands together in a plea.

“Okay, okay!” Kim Dokja put his phone away, noticing how much the sky had dimmed. He swore he could see a few stars twinkling in the sky. “Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? What was he saying?

The kids beamed at him, and Kim Dokja couldn’t help but feel a little warm inside. Well, he supposed even if he couldn’t find something good about that story just yet, there would always be someone else who could.

“If you guys are still here, I’ll come to the playground and I’ll read more.”

Wait, no. Even if the kids were adorable, he didn’t plan on coming back to the playground. Kim Dokja was a high school student, not some babysitter. 

It didn’t matter if the kids liked the ice cream bars more than he thought they would, enough to smile at him. He wasn’t going to...

He ended up going to the playground again the next day.

When he saw Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung racing each other around the playground, he realized that the kids weren’t something he’d dreamed up. 

They were real, and their smiles when they saw him were as bright as the stars in the night sky.

—

Over the next few days, Kim Dokja would continue to visit the kids after school. 

He quickly found out that both of them had an uncanny penchant for picking up wildlife. One time Lee Gilyoung had run over shouting excitedly, and Kim Dokja had nearly dropped his phone at the sight of a massive grasshopper in Lee Gilyoung’s hands. Shin Yoosung, not to be outdone, would frequently come over with some magnificently colored bird perched in her hair.

Kim Dokja began looking forward to seeing what kind of creature the two kids would find each day. When it got especially hot, he’d buy them cheap ice cream bars, and other times he’d read another chapter from the novel that was still on hiatus. 

He had figured out that the key to the heart of an 8-year-old was through ice cream, and was more than willing to make use of this precious knowledge.

One day, the sun stood high up in the sky. It was still spring, and yet it somehow felt like the midst of summer. Kim Dokja considered rolling up the sleeves of his uniform, but remembering what lay underneath them dispelled any more thoughts about it.

Sweat pooled uncomfortably on his back and Kim Dokja shifted, groaning. He tried using his phone to fan himself before realizing he looked like an idiot and stopped. 

“Ahjussi, why do you always wear your winter uniform?” Shin Yoosung asked, looking completely unbothered by the heat.

Lee Gilyoung showed up next to her, also looking fairly refreshed. Was it just Kim Dokja who was practically decomposing?

“It’s... fashionable,” Kim Dokja said lamely. 

“Looks don’t matter if you die of heatstroke, hyung.” Lee Gilyoung stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh, really…”

“Hey, give us your money. We’ll buy you something to cool you down!” Shin Yoosung said.

Normally Kim Dokja would have refused to entrust his precious money to a couple of 8 year olds, but his brain was about to melt into slop.

A few minutes later, the kids emerged from the convenience store looking rather proud. They handed him a bright red popsicle and he bit into it, before nearly spitting it out.

The popsicle was tomato-flavored.

“How did you—” Kim Dokja gaped at the kids, before staring back at the popsicle. “How did you find a tomato-flavored popsicle?!”

“We just picked out what looked best,” Lee Gilyoung said. “Do you not like tomatoes?”

“No.. I…” He didn't, but a tomato-flavored popsicle? Would anyone like that?

“Tomatoes are kinda sweet!” Shin Yoosung piped up. “It can’t be that bad, right?”

Not wanting to disappoint them, Kim Dokja ended up eating the whole popsicle while they watched intently. He wanted to throw up at the end and was pretty sure he was on the brink of death.

There was absolutely no way this was worth it.

“You finished it!” Shin Yoosung celebrated, high-fiving Lee Gilyoung.

Maybe it was worth it.

To be fair, he did feel somewhat cooler after finishing the popsicle from hell. He caught Lee Gilyoung staring at him inquisitively, and tilted his head at the boy.

“Hyung, I used to think you were a delinquent.” Lee Gilyoung said suddenly.

“Me?” Kim Dokja asked incredulously.

Lee Gilyoung nodded vigorously. “You looked kind of unhappy and you had a bunch of bruises.”

With that reasoning, Kim Dokja supposed it made sense, from a young child’s perspective.

“Lee Gilyoung!” Shin Yoosung said warningly. “That’s not nice.”

“Okay, but delinquents are cool!” Lee Gilyoung said. “Then hyung bought us popsicles and started reading us stories and I’m pretty sure delinquents don’t do that.”

Kim Dokja couldn’t help but feel somewhat hurt. So he wasn’t cool now?

“I like ahjussi as he is,” Shin Yoosung proclaimed.

“I never said I don’t like hyung now! Hyung now is cool too.”

“So what did you think of me at first, Yoosung?” Kim Dokja asked.

Shin Yoosung pondered for a moment. “I thought ahjussi looked a little lonely.”

… was it that obvious?

“But that’s okay! We’ll be his friends, right?” Lee Gilyoung exclaimed.

Shin Yoosung nodded. “Yeah!” She turned to Kim Dokja and patted his knee. “You can trust us, ahjussi!”

Then Lee Gilyoung shot up, as if he’d realized something. “Wait, hyung, if you aren’t a delinquent, then where are those bandaids on your face from?”

“I’m clumsy, so I fall a lot.” He smiled reassuringly.

Both of the children looked at him silently. Shin Yoosung frowned slightly, and Lee Gilyoung’s face had a strange expression.

Kim Dokja dropped the expression. He didn’t know his smile was that repulsive...

Lee Gilyoung marched up to Kim Dokja and grabbed his wrist, looking into his eyes.

Kim Dokja gulped. “Yes, Gilyoung?” 

“Hyung shouldn’t lie.”

“...”

“Ahjussi.” Shin Yoosung said, reaching over and taking Kim Dokja’s other hand. “Are you getting bullied?”

He remembered the pain, exploding like a firework in his gut. He grimaced at the thought of dirty shoes pressed against his face, bruises trailing down his arms. He couldn’t really distinguish when it happened anymore. Today? Yesterday? Last week?

“It’s okay. It’s nothing to be worried about.” He really didn’t want to think about those things here, with the kids.

“You don’t always have to do everything alone, Hyung.” Lee Gilyoung scowled. 

“Wait, it really isn’t anything serious…”

“Then why do you always wear your winter uniform?” Shin Yoosung said, her voice wobbling.

“I already told you, it’s..”

What could two 8-year-old kids do for a high school student, anyway? 

“If you’re getting bullied, hyung, I’ll definitely beat them up for you.” A menacing look entered Lee Gilyoung’s eyes.

“Thank you both, but it’s fine.” Kim Dokja said, leaving no room for discussion.

The kids gave him unsatisfied expressions, but this really wasn’t a situation meant for them to deal with. Kim Dokja could handle it alone. He’d been doing so for a long time, after all.

There was no need to ruin these peaceful moments at the playground with whatever happened at school.

He looked up at the sky, avoiding their gazes. He reflected on the past few weeks. It wasn’t that he didn’t notice the way Lee Gilyoung had initially flinched when Kim Dokja raised his hand to pet his head, or the way Shin Yoosung’s eyes always trembled whenever he refused to tell them about why he looked so dejected. 

Thus, Kim Dokja dimly understood, these kids would probably be more sympathetic towards him than anyone else his age.

But they were travelers who would walk different paths, lines meeting for an instance before parting ways forever. Kim Dokja felt no need to weigh the kids down with his own unnecessary stories.

“Ahjussi, what are you thinking about right now?” Shin Yoosung finally asked.

“Nothing,” Kim Dokja said. “I’m just glad I got to meet you two.”

The two kids looked at each other. “Why are you acting like you’re going to leave?” Shin Yoosung said, while Lee Gilyoung pulled on Kim Dokja’s sleeve.

He opened his mouth to speak again, when a voice called.

“Shin Yoosung, Lee Gilyoung, there you are! It’s time to go!” They looked over to see a young girl with her hair tied up in a high ponytail.

“Oh, Jihye-noona is here.” Lee Gilyoung said, sounding somewhat disappointed.

“Does she take care of you two?”

Both of the kids blanched. “No.”

Then what exactly…?

When the girl called for the kids again, they shot one last look at him before reluctantly waving goodbye and running off. The girl… no, Jihye, squinted at Kim Dokja, then shook her head and turned away. 

As the kids left, a light drizzle came down from the sky, which had been sunny only a few moments ago. Spring was like that, he supposed, volatile and uncertain. 

Kim Dokja leaned back and felt the rain fall onto his face, closing his eyes.

—

Apart from taking a few kicks to the abdomen now and then or hearing someone talk about how he was a potential psycho, Kim Dokja’s school life wasn’t too bad.

It was just like drowning for a few hours every day, forgetting how to breathe and slowly giving up as water filled his lungs.

Not bad at all.

Kim Dokja sat at his desk, staring listlessly out the window as the teacher droned on about a series of wars and dates. History wasn't his strong suit, and after years of failing exams, he had no plan to start trying now.

He thought about the kids, Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung.

Would they be at the playground today?

Several weeks had passed since he'd first met them, and he'd finally been moved off cleaning duty. The teachers had given up on fixing his tardiness, and Kim Dokja didn't particularly care either way.

"Now, please pull out your textbooks and flip to page 551..." Kim Dokja heard papers rustling about him and leaned towards his schoolbag. He wrestled his history textbook out of the bag and dropped it on his desk, before noticing a stray sheet of paper hanging from it.

Kim Dokja tugged the paper out, running a finger over the crumpled edges. It was the map that Yoo Jonghyuk returned to him, for some inexplicable reason.

Speaking of, since that day, Yoo Jonghyuk hadn't been at school. Kim Dokja snuck a glance behind him to see an empty seat.

Had something happened to him? Maybe Kim Dokja's outburst had disgusted Yoo Jonghyuk so much he'd transferred schools. Or he'd gotten sick. Actually, Kim Dokja hadn’t seen Yoo Sangah either, so perhaps a cold was running through the school. 

Why was he so concerned with Yoo Jonghyuk's whereabouts, anyway? Kim Dokja thought for a bit, before concluding that anyone would be concerned about where their possible murderer was located. As for Yoo Sangah, considering how popular she was, it was also rather easy to notice her absence in the halls.

The teacher's voice faded into the background as Kim Dokja unfolded the map, his eyes widening.

On the map, there was a crudely drawn line from the entrance of the school to his classroom, 1-B. Written in bold lettering next to it were a set of words: "stop getting lost being late."

Kim Dokja resisted the urge to snort. This couldn't have been done by Yoo Jonghyuk, could it? What kind of ploy was this?

He looked around, but none of the students were watching him expectantly, as if waiting for him to make a fool of himself. Kim Dokja scratched his head.

It was true that he'd gotten lost frequently during the first few days of school, but he knew the building well enough by now. To begin with, he wasn't late due to this kind of reason, either...

More importantly, why would Yoo Jonghyuk go out of his way to mark this map and return it to him?

Kim Dokja tried to wrap his head around it, before giving up. No matter how he turned the issue around in his mind, he couldn't make sense of it. He resigned to folding the map back up and shoving it back in his schoolbag.

Later that afternoon, after miraculously dodging Song Minwoo and the bullies for once, Kim Dokja made his way to the playground.

As Shin Yoosung sat next to him, arguing with Lee Gilyoung over what they should name a grasshopper they'd found, Kim Dokja's mind continued to trace the paths marked on that map in black ink.

"Dokja-ahjussi, why aren't you reading your story today?" Shin Yoosung poked his arm.

Lee Gilyoung's head popped out from behind Shin Yoosung. "Hyung, are you okay? If you still need me to beat up anyone..."

Kim Dokja shook his head, thinking, before rummaging through his schoolbag and pulling out the map. It couldn't hurt to ask a few elementary schoolers about this, right? It wasn't like they would judge him for it.

"Someone who hates me threw this at me some time ago." Kim Dokja unfurled the paper, showing it to the kids.

Shin Yoosung narrowed her eyes at it, while Lee Gilyoung piped up. "Their handwriting is really ugly."

"You can still read it, though." Shin Yoosung said. "Maybe they wanted to help you out!"

"No, he definitely hates me."

"Why would he hate you?" Lee Gilyoung crossed his arms, a disbelieving look on his face.

Kim Dokja bit his lip. "He looks like he wants to kill me every time he sees me."

"Maybe he wants to be your friend, but he's just bad at showing it?" Shin Yoosung tapped her chin, thinking.

Kim Dokja nearly choked. "Where did you get that from?"

"Mia looks angry all the time, but she's actually a lot of fun." Shin Yoosung said.

"Who?"

"Our friend!" Lee Gilyoung interrupted Shin Yoosung. "She's staying at Jihye-noona's house right now because her brother is out."

“What about her parents?” Kim Dokja asked.

The two kids shifted awkwardly, and he didn’t probe any further. Kim Dokja thought of his relatives and hoped that Mia's brother was treating her well. 

"Then, ahjussi, are you going to talk to this person?" Shin Yoosung's eyes sparkled.

"Yeah! You should make friends with him."

"... Yes."

Shin Yoosung crossed her arms. "Ahjussi's nostrils get bigger when he lies."

Kim Dokja blinked. So Shin Yoosung's unusual ability to communicate with animals also applied to people.

"Hyung!" Lee Gilyoung cried.

"Okay, okay! I'll think about it."

Kim Dokja waved goodbye to the kids as they left.

—

A few days later, Kim Dokja went to the playground again. 

He leaned back against the bench and scrolled through his phone, reading “Ways of Survival.” Yoo Jonghyuk’s humanity had withered away after many regressions, but even then, Kim Dokja could see a burning determination to achieve his goals, regardless of what it took. 

Although, watching him confront the Breaking the Sky Sword Saint, Kim Dokja felt that Yoo Jonghyuk’s greatest strength was also one of his greatest weaknesses, lending itself to an arrogant, reckless personality.

Then, someone sat down next to him on the bench. Kim Dokja flinched.

“Yoo Mia, don’t run off too much! Master will be pissed if…”

Kim Dokja looked at the person next to him in surprise. It was a girl in a hoodie who looked to be in middle school, with long black hair tied into a ponytail. 

Wait, wasn’t this the girl that Lee Gilyoung had called ‘Jihye-noona?’

Noticing his gaze on her, the girl stiffened. “What are you looking at, brat?” She said, despite being shorter than him.

“I—” Kim Dokja fumbled with his phone and scooted further away. “Nothing.”

The girl squinted at him, then raised her eyebrows. “Wait, aren’t you Kim Dokja?”

Surprised she knew his name, he nodded tentatively.

“But—but you’re—” The girl flailed her arm at him, before dropping it and groaning. “I’m Lee Jihye, middle school first year.”

“You’re the noona Lee Gilyoung was talking about?”

“Yes.” Lee Jihye said, studying Kim Dokja’s face. “And you’re the ahjussi that those two won’t stop talking about.”

“I guess so,” he said tiredly.

"You don't even look that much older than me," Lee Jihye snorted.

How could that be? Kim Dokja was certain that the difference between a high schooler and a middle school first year should be quite obvious.

A short girl with black hair tied up into twin ponytails strided over. "Jihye-unnie, who is this ugly squid ahjussi?"

Ugly squid... "What?" Kim Dokja said. 

"Yup, you remind me of an ugly squid.” The girl said matter-of-factly. “An ugly squid who steals my friends!”

So this Yoo Mia was the friend that Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung usually played with. Looking at her short stature and the sharp glint in her eyes, Kim Dokja could somehow understand how she'd fit in with those two.

“You took Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung from me,” Yoo Mia jabbed a finger at him accusingly.

"Haha, that can't be..."

"Well," Lee Jihye said, tapping her chin, "Yoo Mia's brother came back yesterday morning, but those two kept telling her to come here instead of going over to her house like before."

"They must like the playground a lot, then." Kim Dokja pondered.

Lee Jihye and Yoo Mia stared at him like he'd just uttered something stupid. Kim Dokja stared back.

"They said you read stories to them, but they don’t even like reading! I don’t understand why they come to you, especially when you almost look the same age as Jihye-unnie." Yoo Mia complained.

"I'm in high school." Kim Dokja interrupted, his dignity somewhat hurt.

Lee Jihye choked. "Huh? Wait, high school?"

"... Shouldn't that be obvious?"

"I thought that you..." Lee Jihye stuttered.

"Squid-ahjussi, you could pass for a middle schooler." Yoo Mia interrupted.

"If I could pass for a middle schooler then why do you and Shin Yoosung keep calling me ahjussi?!" Kim Dokja protested.

Yoo Mia wrinkled her nose. "I don't know, it just feels right."

It was identical to what Shin Yoosung had said. Kim Dokja wondered if the two had coordinated this and gave up. 

"Am I really that short?"

"My brother is a lot taller and more handsome than you," Yoo Mia said proudly. "He's what a high schooler should look like."

Who cared about Yoo Mia's brother?! "All right, so maybe I'm shorter than your brother, who also happens to be a high schooler."

"And uglier," Lee Jihye added, a grin forming on her face.

Ignoring Lee Jihye, Kim Dokja continued. "But I haven't hit my growth spurt yet. Everyone grows at different paces, right?"

“Ah, that’s a thing,” Lee Jihye said, straightening up. "But ahjussi, I'm pretty sure I could knock you over in one punch."

"Oh, really?" Kim Dokja said, a final resort at shielding his tattered pride. "Height doesn't mean everything."

"Wanna go?" Lee Jihye rolled up her sleeves.

Then a loud growl rang through the air.

Kim Dokja pretended it hadn't come from his own stomach and looked away.

Lee Jihye lowered her arms, looking somewhat disappointed. "Sorry ahjussi, but I don't feel too good about beating up a starving kid."

"There's no need to act like some big shot when you're several years younger than me."

Yoo Mia tapped her foot, crossing her arms. "Don't fight, it's annoying. Squid-ahjussi, don't you know that eating more helps you grow taller?"

"Of course I do," Kim Dokja said. "I had some kimbap from the convenience store."

His stomach growled again. Lee Jihye raised an eyebrow.

"When?" Yoo Mia continued, frowning. Seeing her expression reminded Kim Dokja of someone, but he couldn't exactly remember who.

"Uh, recently."

"She asked when, ahjussi," Lee Jihye said, absentmindedly cracking her knuckles.

Kim Dokja swallowed. "Yesterday?"

"So have you eaten anything today?" Yoo Mia demanded.

"Where are Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung?" Kim Dokja said, smoothly shifting the conversation.

"They're not coming today. You're not good at changing topics," Yoo Mia replied.

Damn it. So much for smooth.

Kim Dokja licked his lips. "Why aren't they coming today?"

"I don't know," Yoo Mia shrugged. "Squid-ahjussi, you should eat more. Oppa tells me I should always eat enough every day, or else I won't grow tall. He makes the best food."

"Master's cooking is world-class stuff!" Lee Jihye chimed in.

Kim Dokja was about to reply that it couldn't be that good, when he realized what Lee Jihye had said. "Your 'Master' is Yoo Mia's brother?!"

"Yeah, and?"

At the very least, that explained why Lee Jihye was looking after Yoo Mia. It also explained why there was someone dumb enough to entrust their younger sister’s safety a middle schooler. However, one question still remained.

"... What exactly is he teaching you?"

"This and that." Lee Jihye stretched.

That didn't answer his question. 

"Anyway, don't expect us to ask Master to cook for you or something. I'm his beloved student and he doesn't even let me eat what he makes most of the time."

"I wasn't planning on it," Kim Dokja said. He looked over to see Yoo Mia running over to a figure in the distance.

Lee Jihye followed his gaze and shot up. "Master's here!"

He heard shuffling as Lee Jihye got up and headed towards Yoo Mia and her brother, who he still couldn’t see clearly. He watched as Yoo Mia hugged her brother’s leg, beaming as he pat her head. Lee Jihye nodded vigorously at something Yoo Mia’s brother said, before she turned and pointed at... Kim Dokja.

Something uneasy began gnawing at his chest. What was she doing?

Then, the three of them started heading over towards the bench. The bench that Kim Dokja was sitting on.

As they drew closer, Kim Dokja’s heart sank. Gleaming black locks falling over sharp eyes and a furrowed brow. A permanent, brooding scowl. Together, they made up a face that Kim Dokja had come to detest. 

Of course the "super handsome, high school master chef" that Yoo Mia and Lee Jihye wouldn't shut up about had to be him.

Yoo Jonghyuk stared at Kim Dokja, his face gradually darkening with recognition.

Kim Dokja readied himself, inhaling deeply and releasing the tension in his shoulders. As if nothing was wrong, he dusted himself off and stood up, leisurely pocketing his phone. Finally, Kim Dokja looked up, locking eyes with Yoo Jonghyuk.

“You should make friends with him!”

“Okay, okay! I’ll think about it.”

But there was no way that someone like that would try to help Kim Dokja out. Besides, thinking about something and acting on it were two vastly different things.

Thus, after concluding his awkward three second staredown with Yoo Jonghyuk, Kim Dokja made the executive decision to turn and run in the opposite direction.

Chapter Text

Sometimes he wondered about the author on the other side of the screen. 

Even if the story had low ratings, even if it only had one reader, they kept writing. Their painstakingly crafted words fell onto the page like snow, building up a grand universe of constellations and incarnations.

This universe comforted the boy. When he was running from bullies, when he was alone on the subway ride home, when he was afraid of his relatives: this story became his armor, his friend, and his home.

Through the text flowing down the screen, he imagined a faceless writer, typing away. Between them was the impassable wall of this story. And yet, it was because of this wall that the boy could survive.

So instead he wrote on that wall, leaving comments behind, thanking that author in the only way he knew how to.

“Dear author-nim. It was a great read.”

—

Kim Dokja’s life had become nothing short of a waking hell in the past few weeks. His schedule included dashing into class as late as possible so Yoo Jonghyuk couldn't accost him, pointedly ignoring Yoo Jonghyuk attempting to kill him through glaring alone, and then practically knocking over his desk during breaks to get out before anyone could grab him.

He hadn't gone to the playground since that incident, mainly because Yoo Jonghyuk had definitely made a hit list with Kim Dokja's name at the top. It was fine, anyway. Yoo Mia was back, so Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung could play with her at the playground in peace.

Sometimes he'd see Jung Heewon in the hallways. Unsure of how to face her, he'd swerve and turn the other direction as well. Lunch either involved him getting thrashed about by Song Minwoo and buying him lunch or slinking through the halls, avoiding his tormentors at all costs. 

One afternoon he barely dodged Jung Heewon’s line of sight, ducking into an empty classroom and quickly sliding the door shut behind him.

Except, the classroom wasn’t exactly empty.

Kim Dokja straightened up at the sight of a broad-shouldered student sitting at a table, scratching his head as he flipped through some books. Somehow the image of the bear-like boy hunched over a desk like a meek office worker seemed comical to Kim Dokja, who snorted.

At the sound, the boy flinched and whipped his head around to catch sight of Kim Dokja leaning against the wall.

Now that Kim Dokja thought about it, this guy looked somewhat familiar...

Suddenly, loud voices came around the corridor and Kim Dokja practically leapt across the room, wrenching the doors to a cabinet open and jamming himself inside. He shut them with a click just as the doors to the classroom opened.

“Lee Hyunsung-ssi!” A clear voice shouted, Kim Dokja recognizing it as none other than Jung Heewon.

“Ah, Heewon-ssi.” An unfamiliar, considerably more soft-spoken voice replied. It was at this moment Kim Dokja remembered where he’d seen the boy before; chatting with Yoo Sangah and Jung Heewon in the hallway.

Kim Dokja held his breath, eyeing a cobweb in the corner of the cabinet he was in. If he started coughing and hacking due to the dust, there was no doubt that he’d be discovered. 

“Hey, that’s strange. I thought I saw someone run in here like their life depended on it? Why is it only you?” Jung Heewon asked.

Or this Lee Hyunsung could sell him out and Kim Dokja wouldn’t need to worry about ignoring the tingling sensation in his throat.

There was a long pause.

Kim Dokja clenched and unclenched his fists. This was it, then. Lee Hyunsung would mention the frantic boy who’d dove into the cabinet behind him and then Jung Heewon would drag him out by the collar and, well, he didn’t want to think about what would happen next.

“No, it’s just been me in here.”

Kim Dokja gasped, before inhaling a cloud of dust and breaking into a spasm of poorly concealed coughs.

“What the—” footsteps drew closer to the cabinet door and Kim Dokja cursed himself out no less than 49 times.

He heard a chair crash onto the floor and someone standing up abruptly. “Uh, no! Heewon-ssi, that cabinet is, ah, there’s a lot of things in there and if you open it there’ll be a huge mess.”

“But didn’t you hear that?”

“H-hear what?” Lee Hyunsung practically squeaked.

“There was—” Jung Heewon stopped, before groaning exasperatedly. “You’re right, I must be losing it. Nevermind. 

Oh? Despite Lee Hyunsung’s obvious lie, Jung Heewon had chosen to trust him.

“Anyway, why are you in the student council room again? I’ve already told you that I can do the work myself.” Jung Heewon said.

“Having to take care of Sangah-ssi’s work in addition to yours must be tiresome, so I thought I could help out!” 

He heard Jung Heewon sigh. “Hyunsung-ssi, you’re not even part of the student council. I’m vice president, so it’s only natural for me to also handle the president’s affairs when she’s out sick.”

Yoo Sangah was sick? This was news to Kim Dokja, though it explained why he hadn’t noticed her at school. He remembered her expression back in the infirmary and felt somewhat strange. 

“I don’t need your pity or sympathy,” he had said in a biting tone. 

And Yoo Sangah had just looked at him, her eyes a shifting mosaic of… something that Kim Dokja wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge: not now, or ever.

There was a light knock on the cabinet door. Kim Dokja jolted, before realizing that the conversation had ended a while ago. He cautiously opened the cabinet door and peeked up.

“Lee Hyunsung-ssi?” Kim Dokja said. 

“Hello! Heewon-ssi just left. I’m sorry about the cabinet. It must have been uncomfortable.” Lee Hyunsung scratched his head, before extending a hand forward.

Kim Dokja pushed himself up and stood upright. Lee Hyunsung quickly withdrew his hand, holding it stiffly against his side.

“It’s okay,” Kim Dokja dusted himself off. “Thank you for not selling me ou—”

The door to the student council room slammed open and Kim Dokja promptly slid back into the cabinet, closing it as he went. Lee Hyunsung whirled around in a panic.

“Lee Hyunsung.” 

Kim Dokja didn’t need to see who it was to know that it was Yoo Jonghyuk. His luck was seriously terrible today.

“O-oh, Jonghyuk-ssi, what do you need?”

“Where is Yoo Sangah?” 

“She’s sick, so she hasn’t been at school. If there’s anything you need from her, I can try my best to—”

There was a frustrated huff, and then the door banged shut while Lee Hyunsung was mid-sentence. After waiting a few more seconds, Kim Dokja slowly pushed open the cabinet.

“Is he gone?” He whispered, though he felt he might be stating the obvious, as the classroom was devoid of anyone besides himself and Lee Hyunsung.

Lee Hyunsung exhaled slowly, something like disappointment clouding his face. “I-I think so.”

Kim Dokja stood awkwardly, not sure what to say. “Ah. Why was he looking for Yoo Sangah-ssi?” 

“Yoo Sangah-ssi is the student council president, so I’m sure Jonghyuk-ssi had a reason. But I do handle her tasks sometimes… am I not capable enough for him?”

Seeing how downcast Lee Hyunsung’s eyes were, Kim Dokja felt a pang in his chest. “I don’t think it’s an issue with you, Hyunsung-ssi. That guy just isn’t the type to think highly of anyone at all, actually.” 

When Lee Hyunsung still appeared unconvinced, Kim Dokja tried again. “At the very least, I’m glad you were here. It was relieving that you covered for me.”

At this, Lee Hyunsung finally gave Kim Dokja a weak smile. 

A long pause stretched between them, and Kim Dokja finally decided he couldn’t take it anymore. “Again, thank you. I’ll… I’ll be going now.”

Lee Hyunsung reached out a hand, before dropping it and scratching the back of his head. “It was nice to meet you, Dokja-ssi.”

“How do you know my name?” As far as Kim Dokja knew, they had no classes together.

“Oh! That, uh, well, um, Heewon-ssi and Yoo Sangah-ssi sometimes bring you up!”

Ah. That was right. In his haste to hide from Jung Heewon and the ensuing cabinet chaos, Kim Dokja had forgotten that of course someone like Lee Hyunsung would know about the rumors. But if that was the case…

“If you knew who I was, why did you protect me?” Kim Dojka pressed.

Lee Hyunsung’s throat bobbed. Then, as if he had trouble admitting it, he said, “when I saw you run in the classroom, it just felt like the right thing to do.”

For a student with a stature comparable to that of a bear, Lee Hyunsung’s voice was the softest sound Kim Dokja had ever heard at that moment. A curious tangled knot of feelings bubbled up in Kim Dokja’s gut, and he shook his head. There was nothing to gain, and Lee Hyunsung knew how Kim Dokja’s reputation was, so why would he...

“Nevermind. Thank you. I’ll be going.” Kim Dokja said hurriedly, and left, immediately cleaving that train of thought in two as he closed the classroom door behind him.

He’d been having too many out-of-place thoughts recently.

—

Yoo Jonghyuk, Shin Yoosung, Yoo Mia, Lee Jihye, and now Lee Hyunsung. Had Kim Dokja’s body not been aching like always, he would’ve thought these few months were simply one long, twisted dream. It was a bit laughable, how pain was the only thing that he trusted to tell him things were real.

As Kim Dokja stared at his phone, making sure he read each character’s name in Ways of Survival correctly, he pondered the strange situation he was in. How was it that there were so many people who shared names and appearances with characters from Ways of Survival? And why was it that all of them kept rudely making entrances into his life?

Kim Dokja was a lonely child—it was a law, written in the pages of the universe by some unknown god. He was used to silence, not whatever these past few months had been. 

“What crap are you reading again? Hey, is it really that fun? You’re hilarious.” 

Kim Dokja grunted as one of Song Minwoo’s friends shoved him, the phone slipping from his grip. They jeered at him, their words fading away as Kim Dokja made himself deaf to the world.

Silence. Static. How it had always been, and how it was supposed to be. A wall between himself and the world.

Song Minwoo leaned in close and spat on him. “You know the drill! Buy me lunch if you don’t want us to break you in half the next time we see you.”

So Kim Dokja left to buy a sandwich in the school’s bread shop, the path almost engraved into his brain. As he walked, he ignored the stares on his back, trying to tune out the rush of whispers that followed. Though this time there were less whispers about him, and more about someone else. 

“You know Yoo Jonghyuk? The really hot one from 1-B. Apparently he rejects like three people a day!”

“I heard someone tried to make an official Yoo Jonghyuk fan club but it got denied.”

Hearing this, Kim Dokja almost scoffed out loud as he stood in line. How did that bastard have so many fans when his personality was like that? He certainly had the looks, but there was no way only looks could take you so far… right?

Once Kim Dokja reached the front of the line, he bought Song Minwoo’s damn sandwich, which he briefly considered poisoning. But then that would prove the rumors were true. As for himself, the convenience store had run out of kimbap, and there was only one deflated loaf of bread left. He purchased it with what little won he had, as someone behind him in line made an outraged noise.

After receiving his purchases, Kim Dokja shoved them in his pockets and began walking away. Suddenly, a small hand grabbed his shoulder.

“Hey, you screwed up my plan!”

Kim Dokja turned around to find a female student with choppy black hair. She had a beauty mark under her right eye.

“Excuse me?” He tried.

A smug grin broke out onto the girl’s face, revealing sharp canines. He wasn’t sure why she looked so victorious over grabbing his shoulder. A light seemed to sparkle in her eye, like a star that had found its way home.

Then the girl shook her head, indignation settling over her features. “You know, I woke up late today so I was going to try and get something to eat before the end of lunch.”

“... And how does this involve me?”

The girl jabbed a finger at the bag of bread in his hand. “You’ve taken my lunch from me! How could you rob food from an innocent girl?”

“I paid for this. How could I be robbing something you didn’t own to begin with?” Kim Dokja rubbed his forehead, groaning and walking away from the strange girl.

“So you admit you’re okay with letting me starve.” The girl, despite being somewhat short, managed to keep up with Kim Dokja. Frowning, Kim Dokja walked faster, but the girl only increased her strides.

“I never said that,” Kim Dokja argued, increasing to a rather brisk pace.

“But it’s implied.” the girl said, somehow still next to him. They rounded a corner, looping back towards the cafeteria, and Kim Dokja was on the brink of full-out running. Why wouldn’t she leave him alone?! 

“Don’t you know who I am?” He finally muttered.

“Why would I?”

There was no way she couldn’t know, not if she went to this school. 

“Are you an idol or something?” The girl inspected his face. “Nope, no way. Outside of your miserable appearance, I can’t think of any reason I’d know you.” The girl seemed genuine enough about it, to Kim Dokja’s surprise.

“So you… don’t know me.”

“I’ve already said no. Is your ego really that shattered from my lack of supposed knowledge about you? And can I have my bread now?” 

“That’s not—”

“Yoo Jonghyuk-ah, will you go out with me?” He heard a voice confess in the hallway ahead of him.

The two of them nearly crashed into each other as they ducked behind a wall. 

Kim Dokja peered around the wall, trying catch a glimpse of which poor soul was confessing to none other than Yoo Jonghyuk . Maybe the rumors were true. Did Yoo Jonghyuk really reject three people daily?

Then he was violently wrenched away, the dark-haired girl all but clambering on top of him to get a look. He shoved her off and strained his neck to see while she was down, before she roughly pulled him behind the wall in retribution.

The two glared at each other.

“What the hell do you want?” He whispered. 

“I want my bread. And I want to know what’s going on there.” The girl tilted her head in the direction of the hallway.

“There’s a bit of a problem with that, you see. I paid for this bread, so it’s mine.” Kim Dokja paused. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Oh? Are you interested in me?” The girl raised an eyebrow.

Kim Dokja gave her a scathing look. Yes, there was no way this girl knew about the article, or else she’d be vomiting on him instead of doing… this.

“Kidding. I’m Han Sooyoung. You?”

“I’m…” Kim Dokja swallowed.

Something clattered to the ground and they both whipped their heads in the direction of the hallway. They peeked out from behind the wall, Kim Dokja’s head below Han Sooyoung’s. The two tacitly agreed not to inflict bodily harm on the other until they saw what was going on.

A girl stood over a small metal lunch box. Kim Dokja felt his heart clench at the sight of perfectly good rice lying on the floor.

“No.” Yoo Jonghyuk said. “Stop throwing a tantrum.”

Wise words from someone who’s always throwing one of those, Kim Dokja thought. Hearing Han Sooyoung chuckle, he realized he’d whispered it aloud and bit his lip. 

He wasn’t sure why he suddenly became so loose-lipped around Han Sooyoung—perhaps it was because she was the odd, mythical kind of person who somehow didn’t pay attention to rumors from other people. It was like being online, where the thrill of anonymity shredded all semblances of self-preservation. 

“Wait! But, Jonghyuk-ah—” The girl reached out for Yoo Jonghyuk’s arm.

He shook her off. “I’ve already said it before. Don’t call me that.” 

“I made this lunch just for you!” The girl pleaded.

“I don’t eat things made by other people. Especially when they’re on the ground.”

“I—I didn’t mean to throw it!”

“I don’t care.”

Kim Dokja shuddered. Yoo Jonghyuk was too brutal. Couldn’t he at least let her down gently? He knew if it were him, he wouldn’t pass up on free food. Then again, that might be why no one ever confessed their heartfelt feelings to him.

“You didn’t even eat lunch earlier today, so I thought you would be hungry.”

“How did you know that?” Yoo Jonghyuk said, his voice cold.

“I—well, you didn’t have your lunch box this morning, so—”

“I did have it. It disappeared shortly before lunch.”

“Oh, well. Then why didn’t you want to eat the lunch I made for you?” The girl said, brushing it off rather easily.

“... You’re still going on about that. Did you do something to my lunch?”

“What! No, I would never! I just felt bad that you didn’t get to eat your dumplings, so I made you lunch—”

“How did you know I brought dumplings? And if you made lunch for me to eat only after seeing that I lost mine, that would mean you made all of that in just a few minutes, which is highly unlikely.”

The implications were clear. The girl was silent, her plan exposed.

Han Sooyoung was shaking uncontrollably. Worried, Kim Dokja glanced at her, before realizing she was trying to hold in laughter. All his worry dissipated instantly. 

Besides, if she knew who he was, Kim Dokja was certain she wouldn’t show him the same concern. 

“Earlier I found my lunchbox in the trashcan. I’m assuming it was you.”

Suddenly, the girl cried, “I just wanted you to notice me! You always act so high and mighty just because you’re handsome and people like you, but you never actually talk to any of us. I—I just wanted to do something nice for you!”

“Throwing my lunch away is nice?” Yoo Jonghyuk interrupted. 

“You know what? I hate you! Shut up!” The girl wailed. Kim Dokja heard a stomp, and then rapid footsteps running away.

… What the hell did he just listen to?

“That was a masterpiece. Straight out of a trashy F-grade romance novel,” Han Sooyoung whispered.

Yoo Jonghyuk didn’t move for a while. Then his stomach growled and he let out a short, frustrated sigh.

Kim Dokja skipped lunch so frequently that it didn’t bother him much anymore, but seeing Yoo Jonghyuk’s predicament, he felt somewhat bad for him. The school’s convenience store was closed by now and class was due to start soon, so there was no time for Yoo Jonghyuk to go get food from outside the school.

Technically, Kim Dokja was somewhat in debt for the map incident. Even if it was Yoo Jonghyuk’s fault that he’d lost it, the boy had been kind enough to give it back. And to be fair, Kim Dokja had gone off on Yoo Jonghyuk that day, more than the asshole probably deserved.

Who was he kidding—Yoo Jonghyuk was not kind and Kim Dokja could care less about the map. He simply wanted an excuse to get back at Song Minwoo and his stupid lunch demands. As for the map, Kim Dokja resigned to crumple it up and properly throw it away the next time he saw it. 

One of these days, definitely.

He hated Yoo Jonghyuk, and Yoo Jonghyuk hated him. It was best for a “weak” person like Kim Dokja to not appear in his sight. But Kim Dokja liked the idea of not being Song Minwoo’s lunch boy for once a bit too much.

After a few more seconds, he figured out a plan, pulling his bread out of his pocket. It wasn’t much of a plan, to be honest, but he didn’t exactly have any other ideas. 

“Hey—what the, what are you doing?” Han Sooyoung crossed her arms, eyeing the bread. It was rather smushed from being crammed in his pocket, but since it was wrapped securely in a plastic bag, he considered it to still be edible.

“If you do a favor for me, I’ll pay you back.” Kim Dokja said, a scheming glint in his eye. He immediately buried it as Han Sooyoung raised an eyebrow at him.

She doesn’t know, so it’s okay. And we’ll never meet again after this, since she’s not in any of my classes and I haven’t seen her before.

Han Sooyoung searched his face for any traces of deceit, but found nothing. “The reward better be worth it,” she grumbled.

With all parts of his plan in place, Kim Dokja straightened up. To “settling debts,” he supposed.

—

Yoo Jonghyuk finally gave up on acquiring any lunch that day, kneeling down to clean up the ridiculous lunchbox. He disliked messes, even if they weren’t his own.

Suddenly, a hand reached out to stop him. Yoo Jonghyuk looked up. A short girl was beaming at him with a ridiculous smirk, a bag of.. something clutched in her hand.

“What do you want?” He asked. It had been a long day and he was in no mood to deal with another annoyance.

“I just saw you drop something on your way here. Since you’re so… unfortunately tall, I figured you’d never notice it unless someone as gracious as myself came to inform you.”

“I didn’t drop that.” He eyed the plastic bag.

“Oh, but you haven’t eaten at all today, have you?” The short girl tilted her head to the side, a sly grin on her face, canines flashing.

He stiffened. “So you heard everything.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell! I doubt that girl will do the same, though, so I’m not really your biggest problem.” She held up the bag and tossed it at him. 

Yoo Jonghyuk let it hit his chest and slide to the ground, unimpressed. It was a sad, squashed loaf of bread, wrapped in some cheap plastic.

“Just take it, you ungrateful brat. Your…. fan or whatever wanted you to have it.”

“My fan?” Someone at this school knew about his gaming career? Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyebrows slanted, his mouth curving down.

“Listen, I don’t know and I don’t really care. Just take the bread, unless you’d rather starve. If so, by all means, go ahead!”

Yoo Jonghyuk picked up the bag. It looked horrible. The girl’s homemade lunch probably would be better than whatever abomination lurked inside this plastic prison.

But he had eaten nothing all day. His sister had woken up late for school so he’d missed breakfast, and he knew that properly feeding oneself was important for physical health. It was also store-bought. He despised food made by anyone besides himself, but at the very least there was no way this had been tampered with.

Yoo Jonghyuk hesitantly unwrapped the bread.

“There’s a good boy. Okay, enjoy eating that for free!”

Yoo Jonghyuk whipped his head up, ready to throttle the strange girl, but she had already disappeared. 

—

“Why couldn’t you just give it to him yourself?” Han Sooyoung crossed her arms. “You’re acting like some shy schoolgirl with a crush.”

Kim Dokja shook his head. “Listen, he doesn’t like the sight of me, and I don’t like the sight of him.”

“Then why’d you make me carry out your stupid plan to give him a loaf of bread ? Not even the nice sandwich?”

“Because I have to repay a debt. But I don’t want to be too generous.”

“What debt?”

Kim Dokja frowned. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Actually, why did you buy a loaf of bread and a sandwich? Are you secretly a huge glutton?”

“Once again, you wouldn’t get it.”

“Is this what they mean by ‘it’s complicated’?” Han Sooyoung laughed.

“Shut u—” Kim Dokja caught himself and schooled his expression into something more neutral. “Would you have given the bread to him?”

“Hell no. I’d have eaten it in front of him, laughed, and then spit on him, and then I’d also—”

“Okay, no need to continue. I can understand why you have no friends.” Kim Dokja grimaced, considering he could say much the same about himself. He also shouldn’t have said that aloud. Either way, he should make his exit soon.

He would much prefer it if Han Sooyoung, the type of person who apparently didn’t pay any attention to rumors, stayed that way. To ensure that, they had to never meet again.

“That was uncalled for,” Han Sooyoung was saying.

“I’m leaving,” Kim Dokja decided.

“Hey, where’s my reward? And you still haven’t given me your name!”

Kim Dokja fished out the sandwich meant for Song Minwoo. He tossed it at Han Sooyoung, then turned and left while she was distracted by it—of course, only after snorting at her barely managing to keep it from hitting the ground.

The sandwich should be good enough for a reward, and he would never see Han Sooyoung again. And now he had repaid his... debt to Yoo Jonghyuk, so there was no reason for them to have any future interactions either.

He remembered the kids yelling at him and winced. It was fine. They didn’t need to know.

Kim Dokja trudged along the hallway, feeling his stomach rumble. That familiar ache was back, though whether it was from being hungry or from all his bruises, he wasn’t sure. 

Speaking of bruises… Kim Dokja kept an eye out for Song Minwoo and his goons, but it appeared that luck was on his side for now. 

As he sat in class, he continued his cherished pastime of staring at the window. The seat next to him was empty, though considering he didn’t particularly like the student who usually sat in it, Kim Dokja had no complaints.

Their teacher walked up to the podium in front of the class, adjusting his tie. He frowned, looking at the door.

“Today we have a new transfer student who was supposed to arrive in the morning, but was late for unspecified reasons. She—”

The door slid open and quick footsteps came through. A horrifyingly familiar student with sharp eyes and hair that barely reached her shoulders stood at the front of the class. “I’m Han Sooyoung.”

Hearing the name, Kim Dokja swung his head away as she spouted some other random things about herself to the class. 

It made sense now. Of course she wouldn’t know who he was—she hadn’t even gone to this school until today . He had been a fool for thinking otherwise.

KIm Dokja’s mind spun in a haze—perhaps if he kept his head down, she wouldn’t notice they were in the same class until it was too late, and by then she’d have forgotten all about their ridiculous encounter with the bread.

She didn’t see him. She didn’t see him. 

She didn’t see—

Something slammed on the desk next to Kim Dokja and he started, twisting around to find Han Sooyoung sitting to his right.

She raised an eyebrow at him, as if daring him to question her.

“This seat’s.. taken.” Kim Dokja said.

“You don’t sound very convinced.” 

The teacher cleared his throat. “Han Sooyoung, someone is already sitting there. There is a seat available in the back.”

Han Sooyoung pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses and slipped them on. They had no lenses, but Kim Dokja opted not to say anything. “My eyesight is pretty bad, so I’ll have to take this seat in the front.”

“Is that so.”

“Yep! Whoever was here can move to the back. I’m sure it won’t be a problem, right?” Han Sooyoung leaned back in her chair, grinning lazily.

The teacher sighed, then went to his desk to write something down.

Kim Dokja considered trying to integrate his face with his desk again and disappearing forever. It hadn’t worked before, but maybe this time it could. He would never know if he didn’t try, right?

Han Sooyoung regarded him with an odd gaze, before pulling out a bright yellow lollipop and popping it in her mouth. She then pulled out another lollipop and held it out to him.

When Kim Dokja just stared at it, she shoved it in his hand. “Eat it. You had a weird expression on your face.”

“Thank you very much, uh, Han Sooyoung-ssi.” Kim Dokja bowed his head, dutifully ignoring the gazes of the classmates around him.

To his surprise, when he straightened back up, Han Sooyoung was staring at him as though he’d killed her parents in front of her and then danced on their mangled corpses.

Han Sooyoung clicked her tongue exasperatedly. “Never call me that again. Just call me Han Sooyoung,” she said after a long pause. “Like earlier.”

“Han Sooyoung.” Kim Dokja said, after an even longer pause. 

As the teacher clapped his hands together and started a lesson, Kim Dokja hurriedly scribbled down something 

I was trying to pretend like I didn’t know you for your own sake. You shouldn’t associate with me.

Han Sooyoung read his note, scoffed, and wrote back immediately. Why not?

I’m disliked. 

What did you do, kill someone?

Kim Dokja stared at those words for a long time, throat dry no matter how many times he swallowed. May as well answer it honestly.

Well, not exactly. 

Then what is it?? 

Considering they were classmates now, there was no use in hiding it. She’d find out sooner or later.

My name is Kim Dokja. The one from that book, The Underground Killer. My mother wrote it. I’m the son of a

His pencil froze over the page, trembling. He couldn’t finish it. He didn’t want to. Even so, the truth was already there, laid bare. Han Sooyoung didn’t need to be a genius to know what the end of that sentence was.

Kim Dokja slowly, slowly laid his pencil down. The moment he handed this to Han Sooyoung, she would draw away from him in disgust. She would glare at him, raise her hand and ask to move to the seat in the back. 

And that would be it, he realized. It was nothing he wasn’t used to—nothing he hadn’t been prepared for. Taking a deep breath, Kim Dokja slid the paper over. 

Han Sooyoung regarded the paper, taking her lollipop out of her mouth and waving it around. Kim Dokja turned away as she read it—even though he knew what he’d find, a part of him didn’t want to accept it just yet.

Suddenly, the paper was shoved rudely against his arm. He blinked, startled, and picked it back up. Han Sooyoung pointedly sucked on her lollipop, waiting. 

Kim Dokja read the page. Where his writing stopped, Han Sooyoung’s messy yet proud handwriting continued.

I’m the son of a mother. I’m really annoying and I steal people’s lunches. Also I’m a huge fan of some edgelord but I’m secretly a shy schoolgirl at heart so I refuse to interact with him outside of getting some stranger who’s half his height to do it for me. I still haven’t eaten the lollipop that the wonderful benevolent goddess Han Sooyoung has bestowed upon my sad little self. 

He bit back a snort. “What the hell is this?” He ended up saying out loud.

The teacher had stopped lecturing, so Han Sooyoung also began talking. “You think I care about some dumbass article? What does the way you mother acted have anything to do with you?”

For a moment, the world stopped as he processed her words. Then it started spinning again, reality submerging him in cold logic. This was wrong. People weren’t like this. 

“This is too cliché.” He muttered.

“What?”

“The transfer student is nice to the loner, and then they become close after enduring various trials together. How many times have you heard that plotline?” 

Han Sooyoung fixed Kim Dokja with a glare. “What’s wrong with that plotline?”

“It’s… boring,” he said. “It doesn’t happen. It’s too good to be true.”

“Then if you were in my place, how would you go about it?”

Kim Dokja slumped back in his seat. “I’m not… I’ve never been on the other side of this kind of story.”

Han Sooyoung tapped her pencil against her chin. “I think you would do the same as me.”

“No. I don’t do things out of pity. And I’m not a nice person.”

“Neither am I.”

They said nothing, their argument caught at a stalemate.

Eventually class ended, and Kim Dokja stood up, preparing to go home. Han Sooyoung did the same, and Kim Dokja was wondering how he’d shake her off, when Yoo Jonghyuk, reliable as ever, appeared at the worst time possible.

“You were the one who gave me the bread.” He accused Han Sooyoung.

“Actually, it was this guy over here.” Han Sooyoung gestured flippantly at Kim Dokja, who froze.

“What.” Yoo Jonghyuk said, more than asked.

“Yeah, but he didn’t want to see your face so he had me do it. I can kind of tell why he wanted to avoid you. That nasty scowl sure isn’t doing you any favors.”

Kim Dokja could only force his papers down into his schoolbag, refusing to meet Yoo Jonghyuk’s gaze. This was not how it was supposed to go. The more Han Sooyoung spoke, the more constipated Yoo Jonghyuk’s expression became. 

“I don’t get it. Do you guys have a feud or something? What did he do to you?” Han Sooyoung finally said.

“Existed, apparently,” Kim Dokja muttered, wondering if Yoo Jonghyuk was here to carry out his hit list.

“Hah?”

“The sight of me,” Kim Dokja said, closing his bag, “ bothers him. As he said.”

“You really said that?” Han Sooyoung asked Yoo Jonghyuk incredulously.

“That was not how I intended it to sound.” 

“How else was it supposed to sound?” Kim Dokja argued. 

Yoo Jonghyuk narrowed his eyes, as if genuinely pondering what to say next. Luckily, Kim Dokja knew not to fall for this—nothing the other boy ever said made sense, so there was no way he was actually putting thought into it. 

His mind drifted to a few weeks ago. “ Are you really this weak?” A low, frustrated voice had snapped. In those words, Kim Dokja had found anger, annoyance, and something far worse than both: disappointment.

Kim Dokja picked up his schoolbag, the memory gripping him like a cold, withered hand. “If you’re not going to tell me something different, then don’t talk to me to begin with.” Surprised at his outburst, both Han Sooyoung and Yoo Jonghyuk focused their attention on him. “All I’m asking is that you leave me alone.” 

“Hey, wait, we’re not—”

Kim Dokja saw a crowd of students hovering in the corner of his eye, glancing curiously their way—likely at the interesting new transfer student and resident handsome student Yoo Jonghyuk. Among them, he saw the girl who had first asked him about the book, the first crack in Kim Dokja’s brittle peace.

A wave of exhaustion washed over him. How many more times did he have to deal with this?

“Some students want to talk to you guys, so I’ll be going.” He stood up, slinging his schoolbag over his shoulder.

“Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung miss you,” Yoo Jonghyuk suddenly said.

At this, Kim Dokja stopped. 

“They’re always asking me where you are every day. They think the playground is boring when you’re not there.”

His grip tightened around his schoolbag. “I don’t see the issue. You and your sister are there now.”

“They say it’s not the same.”

Kim Dokja let out a wry chuckle. “There’s no reason for it not to be.” 

And then he left again, like he always did, a lonely figure disappearing into an ocean of people. This time, Yoo Jonghyuk made no move to follow.

—

Han Sooyoung watched Kim Dokja go, tapping her foot impatiently. “What was that?”

Yoo Jonghyuk directed an icy glare at her, and she quickly hopped backwards a few steps. To her surprise, however, he actually answered her question. “While I was out for.. reasons, Kim Dokja somehow ended up looking after my younger sister’s friends afterschool. Once I came back, he left.”

“I mean, that makes sense. It’s not like he was getting paid to do it. Honestly, who babysits a bunch of kids for free?” 

“Are you suggesting I pay him?”

“Maybe that’d work. But it seems more like you just need to learn how to say ‘thank you’ instead of ‘you bother me’.” Han Sooyoung snorted.

“I—” Yoo Jonghyuk stopped. “Like I said, that was not how I intended it to sound.” 

“Clearly.” Han Sooyoung yawned, unimpressed. “And that’s all the feud was? You wanting him to babysit your… sister and her friends?”

Yoo Jonghyuk clenched his jaw. 

“So there’s more,” Han Sooyoung surmised.

“You don’t need to know about it.”

“I honestly don’t care, but whatever is going on is clearly not making Kim Dokja feel any better,” Han Sooyoung said.

“What would you know about it? Are you two friends?”

Han Sooyoung thought of the ridiculous scheme earlier, of Kim Dokja grinning and shoving the bread— her bread—at her.

Why was that Kim Dokja so different from the one she found in class 1-B?

Then she remembered how his face had twitched, his mouth slamming down into a neutral line, the light in his eyes shuttering and his eyebrows falling from their haughty arch into… a rather blank face. Most would call it socially acceptable. 

Han Sooyoung thought it looked rather boring.

“We could be,” she mused. Then she tilted her head at him, making sure to wink at the students still awkwardly waiting about behind him. “Why, do you want to be friends with him too?”

Yoo Jonghyuk crossed his arms, but the subtle flicker in his eyes told Han Sooyoung all she needed. She didn’t know what Yoo Jonghyuk’s motivations were, but it was clear they shared a common goal.

As their conversation came to a stop, Han Sooyoung noticed the wrapped lollipop still sitting on Kim Dokja’s desk. It was the one she had tried to hand to him earlier.

Yoo Jonghyuk watched impassively as she picked it up, rolling it between her fingers. Recalling Kim Dokja’s empty, almost hopeless expression back then, Han Sooyoung roughly ran a hand through her short hair, clicking her tongue.

“He’s seriously a difficult guy, isn’t he.”

Yoo Jonghyuk simply grunted and turned away.

Chapter Text

To have a name was rather suffocating.

The boy’s name was made of burdens and labels that sketched out the vague shape of who he was. And he was but a prisoner to it all, bound by expectations he could not meet.

Freedom came in the form of reading. He fell into the sea of words, casting his identity away into the inky depths. The boy became a soldier, a beast tamer, and a demon. He familiarized himself with the weight each name carried, learning to cherish the histories coiled within their letters. Somewhere in the middle, the boy realized that the only name he had ever felt suffocated by was his own.

And so he yearned to be someone else. Someone who could help others. Someone who could push through any adversity, even as blood dripped from his wounds and loneliness tore at his heart. 

He who bore the heaviest name of all, yet shouldered it without faltering: the protagonist.

Yes—this was the person the boy wanted to be.

—

Kim Dokja didn’t realize the difference between a school without Yoo Sangah and a school with her until she returned from her sickness.

He supposed there was a reason people nicknamed her “Moonlight Empress.” Though her presence wasn’t blinding and obnoxious like the sun, she still lit up the room, with a smile that seemed to glow gently, like moonbeams scattering across the floor.

Yoo Sangah had a comforting and reassuring presence. Students knew she was reliable; there was a reason she was student council president, after all. This, along with her immeasurably good looks, earned her many admirers. Her popularity was rivaled only by Yoo Jonghyuk’s.

Maybe it was because they were both Yoos. However, Kim Dokja thought Yoo Sangah deserved her popularity far more than Yoo Jonghyuk did.

Either way, she had returned, and Kim Dokja wasn’t sure why he cared, but he supposed it was only natural to be glad that she had recovered. It was obvious that the school agreed with him—everywhere Yoo Sangah appeared, a flood of fans and concerned students were sure to follow.

As Kim Dokja headed to class after hiding from Song Minwoo in the bathrooms again, he passed by the said girl in question. Yoo Sangah was helping out another student with a question. Thinking nothing much of it, he continued onwards, when Yoo Sangah’s eyes darted upwards and caught sight of him. To Kim Dokja’s surprise, she waved, a cheerful smile on her face.

They were still on waving terms? Kim Dokja had been rather certain that after his outburst in the infirmary she would’ve given up on him.

She was likely just being polite. It couldn’t be easy, having the whole school’s eyes on you. At least in Kim Dokja’s case, there were no expectations—but Yoo Sangah had an image to uphold.

The student next to Yoo Sangah looked up at him expectantly. He noticed the other students around Yoo Sangah shared the expression. It was then Kim Dokja realized he should probably wave back before he was mauled by the students for disrespecting their beloved student council president (any more than he usually was). He hesitantly raised a hand, hoping that would be the end of it. 

Instead, Yoo Sangah’s face brightened and she made her way over. “Hello, Dokja-ssi. It’s been a while.” 

“Hello, Sangah-ssi.” Kim Dokja felt sweat trickle down his back. So not only were they on waving terms, they were still on speaking terms? “So, uh, are you feeling better?”

“Oh! Yes, I’m feeling great.” Yoo Sangah nodded politely as she spoke, the very portrait of elegance. It was hard to imagine that she had been so sick she couldn’t come to school for a week. “And you, Dokja-ssi? How are you feeling?”

“Fine, like usual.” Kim Dokja said abruptly. Hoping that was the end of it, he began shuffling away as discreetly as possible, waiting for one of the students to come over and take Yoo Sangah’s attention away from him.

Instead, Yoo Sangah tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and walked next to him, a cheery smile still on her face. This one, however, seemed to have a slightly menacing shade to it. Kim Dokja kept walking, not sure what he was supposed to do. Really, why was Yoo Sangah still here?  

He, the subject of rather ugly rumors, had yelled at her and stormed away. Any sane person would either ostracize him or ridicule him. Perhaps this was Yoo Sangah’s way of doing just that.

“Have your classes been going well?” Yoo Sangah eventually said, still strolling beside him. “Exams are coming up, so I hope you’ve been preparing.”

“They are?” Kim Dokja bit down his shock, attempting to sound relaxed. He didn’t pay attention in class most of the time, so even if the teacher announced it, he wouldn’t have noticed.

Yoo Sangah’s eyes widened. “Yes! Haven’t you been paying attention in class?”

“I…” Kim Dokja rubbed his neck and chuckled. “I wouldn’t consider myself a great student.”

“Don’t worry.” Yoo Sangah tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I never made it into the top 10 scores in middle school, but there’s always room for improvement. It’s not too late to start studying now!” 

She raised her hand in an encouraging fist, a bright twinkle in her eyes. Kim Dokja didn’t have the heart to tell her he hadn’t even made it into the top 100 scores in middle school for any exam.

“If you want to, we offer study sessions in the library after school during exam season. It’s rather popular, and a lot of students usually come. If you’re interested you can drop by!” 

When Kim Dokja didn’t respond, Yoo Sangah hurriedly continued. “I’m not pitying you, of course! I just—it’s something I offer to everyone, but, if you’d prefer not to come, then that’s fine—it’s all up to you.” Yoo Sangah put a hand on her chest and sighed, her lips curving upwards slightly. Kim Dokja would have thought she was trying to smile, if it weren’t for the way her eyes seemed to fill with a rueful color, or the way her eyebrows slanted downwards.

His mind seemed to drift away from the conversation, to the sound of rain and the white infirmary, cold and unnerving, like exposed bone. There, in that place, he had harshly rejected Yoo Sangah’s olive branch. And here she was, extending it yet again—even remembering what he had spat at her, as if she’d taken it to heart.

“... You know who I am. I would only deter other students from going if I went.” Kim Dokja’s voice came out softly, barely more than a whisper.

“Oh, then that’s quite the shame, isn’t it?” Yoo Sangah gave him a sweet smile. 

Kim Dokja was ready to agree until her smile suddenly turned sinister, and she continued. “Quite the shame for those students, that is.”

“What?”

“Dokja-ssi, if there are students who are willing to give up on help for their exams just because you’re there, then maybe it’s better they fail. Have you considered that?”

Kim Dokja blinked, his mouth partially open, but no sound coming out. He felt as though he ought to be protesting.

“What I’m trying to say is that if you really want to go, you should go. The other tutors and I will all welcome you with open arms—you have nothing to be afraid of. The truth is, I’d be really happy if you went.”

Yoo Sangah’s gaze latched onto a clock on the wall, and she gasped. “Oh, I need to get to a student council meeting soon. Think about it, okay?” 

Before she could take off, Kim Dokja instinctively grabbed her arm, then immediately let go. Yoo Sangah turned around, tilting her head in question.

“Why are you… doing this?” He asked, the words struggling to leave his throat. “I.. I yelled at you the last time you tried to help me.”

Yoo Sangah laughed as if he had just asked something obvious. “Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?”

Then she disappeared down the hall, and Kim Dokja was left alone with his thoughts; among them, a bothersome, burning light he’d been trying to ignore since Yoo Sangah greeted him that morning.

If he were less of a coward, he might have named it hope.

—

The girl who used to occupy the seat next to Kim Dokja had been permanently replaced, it seemed, by a smirking devil with black choppy hair. She didn’t have Yoo Sangah’s ever-present warmth, but what she was obnoxiously consistent at was bothering him.

Talk to me, idiot.

Kim Dokja casually turned his head away from the paper she slid on his desk. In the window reflection, he saw the back of the classroom, where the girl who had been sitting next to Kim Dokja now had the fortune of sitting next to Yoo Jonghyuk. She was talking animatedly, waving her hands about, while Yoo Jonghyuk gritted his teeth and resolutely ignored her.

As Kim Dokja suppressed a cackle, he heard an irritated sigh and shuffling beside him. Suddenly, something hard hit his head and clattered onto his desk. Kim Dokja yelped and rubbed his head, before turning to see a bright yellow lollipop.

Just as Kim Dokja was figuring out what to do with the damned lollipop, their teacher walked in.

“Your midterms are coming up,” he began. He silenced the chorus of groans that responded with a sharp glare, before clearing his throat. “If you’ve been paying attention in class and studying appropriately, you will be fine. We’ll spend this week reviewing content for the exams next week.”

A student raised their hand, and the teacher nodded at him. “Is the student council still holding tutoring sessions in the library after school?” His friend muttered something to him, and the student flushed bright red. “And I-I’m not asking because of Yoo Sangah-ssi or anything like that!”

Han Sooyoung snorted, crossing her arms. “Typical fanboys, just going to see Yoo Sangah .”

She noticed Kim Dokja looking on incredulously, and made a face at him. Kim Dokja turned back to the teacher, wondering what Han Sooyoung had against the student council president.

“Yes, there will be tutoring in the library after school every day this week. Considering your grades on the last quiz, you would do well to go to them.” The teacher said, deadpan.

The rest of the class asked a few more questions, and the period passed in a blur. Kim Dokja spent it thinking about the next chapter of Ways of Survival and dozing off.

“Jonghyuk-ssi, are you going to the tutoring sessions after school?” A girl’s voice jolted Kim Dokja from his nap, and he blearily rubbed his eyes. He looked behind him to see the girl leaning extremely close to Yoo Jonghyuk, who looked vaguely disgusted.

“No,” Yoo Jonghyuk grunted, leaning further away from the girl.

There was a series of awed gasps. “He’s so smart he doesn’t need tutoring!” Someone whispered.

“Of course he’s a genius… smart people have it so easy.” Another student groaned, less quietly.

Yoo Jonghyuk was handsome, able to cook, and apparently smart enough to pass the exams without studying. It was ridiculous. Kim Dokja couldn’t help but think about Yoo Jonghyuk, always surrounded by people who adored him, even with that unimpressed scowl constantly clinging to his face. 

He felt something twisted ball up in his chest, heavy and suffocating, then shoved it away, picking up his textbook with a huff.

Suddenly, a girl rapped her knuckles on Han Sooyoung’s desk. Kim Dokja glanced over, only to see that Han Sooyoung was completely passed out on the table, snoring away. That explained the peace and quiet he had enjoyed the past few minutes.

“Sooyoung.” The girl tried, but Han Sooyoung didn’t budge. After some consideration, the girl took her textbook and slapped Han Sooyoung’s head with it. Her victim immediately surged upwards, batting at the girl, who laughed.

“What are you doing?!” Han Sooyoung hissed, rubbing her eyes. As ferocious as she was, her voice was still dulled by sleep.

“Sooyoung, are you going to the tutoring sessions after school?”

“Of course not. I’d have to see Yoo Sangah if I went, and she hates me. Also, who cares about studying! I have better things to do.” Han Sooyoung leaned back, crossing her legs and propping them up on her desk.

So, Han Sooyoung and Yoo Sangah disliked each other? Considering how different their personalities were, it wasn’t a surprise—but at the same time, Kim Dokja couldn’t imagine Yoo Sangah hating anyone.

“You’re not even going to try?” The girl sighed.

Han Sooyoung’s chair creaked backwards dangerously, and Kim Dokja wondered if it would crash. “If I fail, who cares? Definitely not my parents.” She snorted derisively, a bitter expression flickering in her eyes.

“Still…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Han Sooyoung yawned. “What about you, Kim Dokja?”

Realizing he’d technically been eavesdropping (they were right next to him, though), Kim Dokja froze. “I…”

Han Sooyoung threw him a lopsided grin, her hair falling into her eyes. Now that he thought about it, he could see slight shadows under them, as if she hadn’t been sleeping well.

“I’m…” the truth was he hadn’t figured it out for himself, yet. His mouth moved on its own, however. “I’m going.”

“No way, Kim Dokja actually cares about studying? Even though he’s always sleeping or zoning out in class?” Han Sooyoung’s chair slammed on the ground.

“I don’t sleep as much as you,” Kim Dokja muttered.

Han Sooyoung’s voice turned sour. “It’s not my fault I’m always tired, okay?”

“Sure.” Kim Dokja quickly jammed the rest of his materials into his schoolbag, slinging it on his shoulder. He hadn’t intended for Han Sooyoung to hear him.

“Hey, you! What do you mean ‘sure,’ get back here—”

But he had already disappeared, leaving Han Sooyoung and her friend behind.

—

Kim Dokja walked into the library, mind flipping through his past encounters with Han Sooyoung.

Somehow, even though he’d sworn to ignore Han Sooyoung, he still ended up talking to her. It was terrifying—like being at the top of a building, watching the world hurtle by below. 

But there was something else, as well. Every time he prepared a retort or bit back a snort, every time he fell further out of character, Kim Dokja couldn’t help but wonder how much further he could go—how far could he push these boundaries? Until Han Sooyoung saw him for what he was, and left him to drown like everyone else?

Kim Dokja passed through winding bookshelves, eyes tracing the spines of every book. If the sea he ended up drowning in contained as many stories as his school’s library, he wouldn’t mind.

He continued onwards, eventually walking into a clearing within the bookshelves. Round tables dotted the floor, with students strewn about, reading textbooks or buried in worksheets. A sole whiteboard in the front was littered with complex math equations and numbers. A girl with her long, dark hair swept up into a bun was going through it, practically stabbing the whiteboard with her marker. Upon realizing the girl was none other than Jung Heewon, Kim Dokja promptly retreated to a corner, feeling rather out of place.

A light tap on his shoulder made Kim Dokja jump. It was none other than Yoo Sangah, an oddly genuine smile on her face.

“You came!” She exclaimed.

“Y..yes.” Kim Dokja stammered, almost surprised at himself. He really had ended up coming to the session. “Am I… supposed to do something right now?”

Yoo Sangah tapped her chin. “Well, that’s up to you. Usually if students have problems they just ask around until they find someone who gets it, or they sit somewhere and work on their own.”

“Oh.” Kim Dokja had long given up on studying for his exams, since it hadn’t gotten him anywhere in middle school.

Jung Heewon suddenly walked up beside them. “Sangah-ssi, I finished explaining that math problem but some of the students are still crying that they don’t get it. Can you help them?”

Yoo Sangah laughed. “Did you scare them again, Heewon-ssi?”

“It’s not my fault they’re slow!” Jung Heewon sighed, before catching sight of Kim Dokja. Surprised flashed on her face. “Hey, it’s that—”

“He’s just here for the same reason as everyone else, Heewon-ssi.” Yoo Sangah said quickly.

Both Jung Heewon and Kim Dokja looked at her strangely. 

Yoo Sangah tilted her head. “Am I wrong?”

He supposed there couldn’t be any other reason for him to come. “I’ll just go.. find a place to sit for the next hour,” he said half-heartedly.

With a satisfied clap of her hands, Yoo Sangah said, “Great! Then I’ll go help those students out. Heewon-ssi, do you mind coming with me? I don’t quite remember what problem you were teaching…”

Jung Heewon spared one last long glance at Kim Dokja, who shrinked away under the weight of her stare. Finally, Jung Heewon nodded to herself and turned to leave with Yoo Sangah.

Why had she nodded? Kim Dokja shifted his feet awkwardly, then decided there was no point in running away. Jung Heewon hadn’t killed him on the spot for his bout in the infirmary yet, so maybe he had a chance to survive.

He found a relatively empty table with only one other student sitting opposite of Kim Dokja. The student, a familiar boy with broad shoulders, was hunched over a worksheet. Have I seen him before? Kim Dokja hesitated but considering how engrossed in his work the student was, he probably could get away with sitting here as long as he was quiet and kept his head low.

After gingerly sitting down in the plush library chair, Kim Dokja fished out his phone and unlocked it, deciding to catch up on last night’s Ways of Survival update. As he scrolled to where he had last left off, the boy across from him sniffed.

Kim Dokja tensed, but when nothing happened, he let himself relax and continued scrolling. 

Yoo Jonghyuk was discussing tactics for the next scenario with his companions. Of course, Yoo Jonghyuk had experienced this scenario before, but that was why it was so important he completed it correctly this time. He reviewed Lee Hyunsung’s Great Mountain Smash and Lee Jihye’s Ghost Fleet, commenting on their strengths and weaknesses with an almost mechanical tone. Naturally, this was because Yoo Jonghyuk had already hit a point where he prioritized efficiency over everything else—even his and his companions’ feelings.

The group was about to begin the scenario when Kim Dokja heard sniffing again, this time aggressive enough to draw him away from Ways of Survival . He risked a peek from behind his phone, and to his shock, he recognized the boy.

It was none other than Lee Hyunsung, whose face was currently drenched in snot and tears. 

So that’s why he felt familiar, Kim Dokja sighed. 

“H-hi, Dokja-ssi.” Lee Hyunsung blubbered.

Remembering how Lee Hyunsung had willingly hid him in the student council cabinet back then, Kim Dokja clicked his phone off and put it away. “Do you need help, Hyunsung-ssi?”

Lee Hyunsung looked down at his worksheet, then back up at Kim Dokja. “Yes, but.. I’m a second-year, so…”

“Then you can ask Jung Heewon-ssi or Yoo Sangah-ssi for help, right?”

“You’re right!” Lee Hyunsung’s face brightened, before he slumped back down. “But, Sangah-ssi and Heewon-ssi are usually busy with the other students and I don’t want to take up their time.”

It was highly likely Kim Dokja wouldn’t be able to help him out, so Kim Dokja sighed. “Well,I—”

“Did you make Hyunsung-ssi cry?” Jung Heewon practically flew over, fussing over the other boy. Kim Dokja felt her timing was a bit too perfect.

“He needs help with the problems on that worksheet.”

“It’s a history one,” Lee Hyunsung said.

Jung Heewon put her hands on her hips. “Alright, let me take a look.”

Seeing the situation was resolved, Kim Dokja took his phone back out. He had not yet passed through a couple paragraphs before he heard a frustrated yell, and looked back up to see Jung Heewon grabbing her hair.

“What is this?! Everyone knows that Admiral Yi Sunsin is most famous for his feats in the Battle of Myeongnyang, so how come that’s not it?” Jung Heewon demanded.

“Well, there’s… more… at least, that’s what my teacher said. I don’t know what else to write, though.” Lee Hyunsung looked on the verge of tears again.

Kim Dokja thought of a young girl standing aboard a powerful ship, with a black turtle-like shell. He thought of rippling explosions that swallowed up massive battle fields and ghostly armadas. Naturally, the sponsor that made these things possible from the beginning was…

“Yi Sunsin also was responsible for the improved version of the turtle ship, right?” Kim Dokja said, a bit absentmindedly.

“Was that it?!” Jung Heewon asked.

“I said that he invented the turtle ship, but now that I think about it… he didn’t invent it, it was someone else.” Lee Hyunsung wrote it down. “I think that was it, Dokja-ssi!”

“Yi Sunsin put a heavy awl with iron spears over it and modified it so cannons could be installed,” Kim Dokja added. “They practically trivialized sea battles for Yi Sunsin during the 16th century invasions.” 

“Are you… extremely interested in turtle ships, Dokja-ssi?” Jung Heewon asked.

“Uh, no.. I just…” Kim Dokja put his phone away. “Read about it somewhere.”

“I see. Oh, then maybe you’ve also read about this…?” Jung Heewon rustled through her backpack, pulling out a thick history textbook. She flipped through to a particularly complicated-looking passage, and jabbed a finger at it. “I have no clue what half of this says.”

Kim Dokja looked over it with a resigned sigh. If he could get in Jung Heewon’s good graces by helping her out here, then the struggle would certainly be worth it. After reading the passage, which was cluttered by useless jargon and needlessly complicated sentences, Kim Dokja could get a decent picture of what was important, which he recited to Jung Heewon.

Looking rather impressed, Jung Heewon said, “You made sense of all that garbage? You’re a lot more like Yoo Sangah than I thought.”

“What?” Kim Dokja nearly choked.

“Yoo Sangah reads all kinds of fancy literature, so a lot of the exams are easy for her. You read a lot too, don’t you? On your phone?”

“Uh—”

“What kind of stuff do you read? Oh, sometimes I read trashy romance novels, so that’s probably why I’m not so great at history or Korean. They’re pretty funny, though.”

“I read webnovels.” Kim Dokja stiffly interrupted her.

“Wait, seriously? I thought you read those fancy authors like that Haruki-Murakami-whatever.”

Kim Dokja didn’t feel like elaborating on how he was deeply invested in a rather poorly-written novel called Ways of Survival created by someone with the username tls213. The last time he tried that with someone around his age, he’d been mercilessly bullied over it.

“You all look like you’re having fun!” A sweet voice chimed, and they turned to see Yoo Sangah, a math textbook tucked under her arm.

“Sangah-ssi!” Lee Hyunsung beamed. 

“Hi, Hyunsung-ssi. Did you need any help on your history work?”

“Actually, Dokja-ssi helped me out with it.”

Yoo Sangah whirled around, her eyes wide. “Really? Dokja-ssi, didn’t you say you didn’t think you were a good student?”

“Oh, he also helped me out with understanding a textbook passage,” Jung Heewon said. “I think he’s a nerd like you, Yoo Sangah.”

“I-I’m really not,” KIm Dokja weakly protested.

“Dokja-ssi, even I struggle with the history textbooks they give us. There’s no way that you, a first-year, are a bad student if you can understand those things and explain them.” Yoo Sangah thought for a moment. “Maybe you just aren’t studying correctly.”

Kim Dokja tried to smile to appease them. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried in the past. But every exam had begun and ended with trembling hands, shaky breaths, and an unabating exhaustion that left him sluggish and dull.

Naturally, those things always led to low scores.

“I’m just not a test-taker,” he tried.

“We have plenty of practice tests!”

Why was it that Yoo Sangah had a reply for nearly everything he tried?! Kim Dokja looked at the other three students, who stared back at him with varying expressions. None of them, however, were particularly unkind. It was a strange feeling.

“Hey, we didn’t say anything mean to you, did we? What’s with that look on your face?” Jung Heewon crossed her arms. Yoo Sangah nudged her reprimandingly, but there was no real anger behind it.

Speaking of mean things, I… Kim Dokja breathed in, steeling his resolve. Ever since he had met Yoo Sangah in the halls, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. 

“... I’m sorry for the incident at the infirmary that time.” 

Jung Heewon leaned back in her chair, and Kim Dokja waited. It wasn’t as if he expected her to give him a second chance like Yoo Sangah had—he knew that Yoo Sangah was a singularity among the vast sea of students. Of course, it didn’t make Jung Heewon a bad person. Rather, it was the sane thing to do, to turn him away and—

“That’s it?” Jung Heewon said, uncrossing her arms.

“What?” 

“Well, took you long enough, didn’t it?”

Kim Dokja froze.

“No need to look like a deer in headlights. Besides, it wasn’t as if what you said then hurt me that bad.”

“Ah.”

Jung Heewon rolled her neck. “So, does this mean you’re finally going to tell us what really happened that day?”

“Heewon-ssi.” Yoo Sangah said, nudging her again.

Kim Dokja felt something sear through him, freezing and harsh, and looked away.

“Dokja-ssi, really, if you’re going to apologize, then you should mean it. We just want to help you,” Jung Heewon pleaded. “It’s frustrating, you know? To see you looking so beat up every day in the halls.”

Kim Dokja absentmindedly rubbed a bruise on his shoulder, hidden under the winter uniform. “It’s fine. Like I said, I really just fell. I’m clumsy.”

Jung Heewon pressed her eyes shut and groaned, then slumped over on the table. “Trying to get you to talk is like conversing with a wall,” she said, muffled.

“Sorry.”

If Kim Dokja knew how to get rid of the bruises and possibly Song Minwoo with them, he would have long ago. He knew his rough appearance was not pleasant on the eyes.

“Dokja-ssi, are you okay?” Lee Hyunsung asked, eyes wide, his pencil hovering over his worksheet. Kim Dokja started, realizing he had nearly forgotten the bear-like student was still there.

“Uh, yes, I’m fine,” he said, right as Jung Heewon interrupted him.

“No, he’s clearly not.”

It was Kim Dokja’s turn to groan. “Heewon-ssi, I appreciate your concern, but I’d like to make it clear there really is nothing going on. You don’t need to be so troubled. I apologize for making you worry—”

Jung Heewon straightened up and slapped the table. “Why are you apologizing for that ? Whatever’s happening to you can’t be your fault, can it?”

“I just said that—”

“Heewon-ssi, I must ask that you keep your voice down,” Yoo Sangah finally interrupted, placing her hands on both of their shoulders and effortlessly inserting herself between Jung Heewon and Kim Dokja.

He winced at the pressure of her hand on his shoulder. The grip on his shoulder loosened, but Kim Dokja did not miss the frown accompanying it.

“Sangah-ssi, there’s no way that he—”

Yoo Sangah suddenly dragged Jung Heewon out of her chair and brought her over to the side, where she whispered something in her ear. Jung Heewon looked ready to protest, but after Yoo Sangah whispered some more, she seemed to grudgingly relent.

After that, they returned. Kim Dokja felt trepidation crawling up his spine, and briefly wondered if his life should be flashing before his eyes right now. Not that there was much to see.

“I’ll wait, so whenever you’re ready.” Jung Heewon said, crossing her arms in a somewhat intimidating stance.

“What?”

“Oh, she means the tutoring session is ending soon, so we were all planning to walk home together.” Yoo Sangah smiled.

Jung Heewon bowed her head, contemplating something, then sighed and nodded in agreement.

Kim Dokja hadn’t been expecting that, but decided not to question them about whatever they were discussing. Either way, he was glad the conversation topic had moved on. “I live pretty far away, so it may not be on the same route.”

“That’s fine! We can just walk for as long as we’re together.” Yoo Sangah held out her hand.

Kim Dokja looked at it for a beat longer than he should have, then ignored it and stood up, packing his things away.

“Thanks for coming today,” Yoo Sangah said, taking back her hand with a bit of a sad smile. ”And for even helping out those two,” she nodded in the direction of Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung.

“I got lucky,” he admitted, slinging his bag onto his shoulder. He had been extremely lucky: lucky that the questions they asked him were ones he knew how to answer, lucky that Ways of Survival had everything he needed to know. “It really wasn’t anything big."

“To you, perhaps. But to those two, I’m sure it meant quite a lot.” Yoo Sangah waved at the two students in question as they ran over.

“Thank you so much for today, Dokja-ssi!” Lee Hyunsung bowed, and Kim Dokja nearly panicked, trying to get him to straighten up. Instead, Lee Hyunsung continued, “I owe you.”

It’s really the contrary, Kim Dokja thought hopelessly, but the other boy wouldn’t budge.

“I suppose I have to thank you as well, Kim Dokja. Truly, you’ve perfectly fulfilled your role as my savior—”

Kim Dokja didn’t know what to make of Jung Heewon, who simply smirked at him, a daring look in her eye.

Finally, the four of them began walking outside the building. 

“You’re coming again tomorrow, right?” Lee Hyunsung asked. He reminded Kim Dokja a bit of a puppy.

“Again?” Kim Dokja said. He immediately regretted it, seeing the way Lee Hyunsung practically deflated.

Yoo Sangah feigned disappointment. “Oh, of course, if you didn’t really mean your apology—”

“I—yes, yes.” Kim Dokja stumbled over his words, and Yoo Sangah’s eyes crinkled as she laughed. It was a gentle laugh that flowed like a moonlight breeze over him.

The three second-years waved at him as they parted ways, the setting sun casting their faces in a warm golden glow. Somehow, Kim Dokja felt as if all he needed was a few more steps, and maybe he could greedily take some of that warmth as well, steal a bit of the sun and carry it with him when he returned to his cold house.

It was a delusional thought, he knew. Kim Dokja didn’t belong with them. They were bound, by obligation, to be kind to him—but he didn’t want to keep rejecting their attempts, so he waved, gave them the best smile he could at that moment, and turned away.

—

The library, with its winding alcoves and towering bookshelves, had rapidly become a comfortable place for Kim Dokja. He often hid in the library during lunch, and it worked—Song Minwoo had no chances to come and harass him in there, under the watchful eye of the librarian and other students doing their work.

The first time someone other than the three second-years he’d grown accustomed to asked for help, Kim Dokja could barely speak. Once it became clear the student was about to sell a kidney to solve their Korean exam, Kim Dokja calmed down.

Over time, more students started actively coming to him for help. Some of them seemed apprehensive initially, but began warming up to him the more often they came to the library. It was a surreal sensation, for eyes to be looking not at the son of a murderer, but at someone who could help them out.

Perhaps that was the fervor that drove Kim Dokja to start paying attention in class, flipping through textbooks at night, and drilling practice problems.

He had stopped studying for exams a long time ago. But something in the air felt different—as if space and time had distorted ever so slightly. The clouds had shifted, the rain had decided to skip a day. It felt warm outside, warmer than it should be, even though summer was on the horizon.

So he spent every night hunched over books, studying every subject, familiarizing himself even with topics outside of what was on the exam. Kim Dokja had taken to answering the teacher’s questions more often in class now, and even the teacher’s countenance when seeing him had shifted from disdain to something slightly respectful.

During free periods, his phone often lay to the side, unused. Kim Dokja figured he’d continue reading Ways of Survival after exams ended.

It was on the last day before the weekend, the final day of tutoring sessions, when someone unexpected walked through the doors of the tutoring session. Someone who drew all eyes to him, eliciting gasps and squeals.

It was ridiculous. Kim Dokja was pretty certain these types of scenes didn’t occur in real life. But here he was, in all his glory, the protagonist of everyone’s life—Yoo Jonghyuk. 

His trademark scowl scoured the room, before he approached Yoo Sangah.

“Oh, Jonghyuk-ssi, I didn’t expect to see you here!” Yoo Sangah said.

“I need help.”

Yoo Sangah patiently waited, and Yoo Jonghyuk paused. 

“I need help for the Korean exam.” He gritted his teeth, as if admitting that he needed help was giving him severe constipation issues.

“It’s the last day of tutoring, so I’m afraid we won’t be able to do much. But we can certainly try!” Yoo Sangah said, smiling. Kim Dokja felt that the smile was a bit cold compared to normal.

“Who do I go to?” Yoo Jonghyuk continued, unperturbed.

Yoo Sangah pretended to think about it, when her eyes lit up. “Oh, how about him?” She gestured.

It was only when Yoo Jonghyuk stopped in front of Kim Dokja, looking as appalled as Kim Dokja felt, when Kim Dokja realized that Yoo Sangah had been referring to him. He leaned over and tried to catch Yoo Sangah’s gaze behind Yoo Jonghyuk, but she was preoccupied with a textbook.

Yoo Jonghyuk sat down to his left, then procured a pencil. Kim Dokja waited for him to get the rest of his things out, but when Yoo Jonghyuk merely sat expectantly, Kim Dokja was thrown off.

“Did you not bring.. a worksheet? Or something?”

“I assumed this place would have study materials.”

“Well, it does, but… usually students have more specific problems then just the ‘whole exam.’”

Yoo Jonghyuk crossed his arms. 

“If you don’t have anything to ask me, then why’d you come here?” Kim Dokja finally said, exasperated. It was like dealing with a ten-year-old, except he knew Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung were less disagreeable than this bastard.

“I…” Yoo Jonghyuk’s jaw twitched, and then he finally ground out, “I’d like to do a practice test.”

“There. Was that so hard, Jonghyuk- ssi ?” Kim Dokja ran a hand through his hair, pretending he didn’t feel Yoo Jonghyuk’s murderous scowl burning into his back as he pulled out a textbook filled with practice exams. 

Seeing Yoo Jonghyuk made Kim Dokja feel… he wasn’t sure. Either way, he’d rather get away from him as soon as possible. This Yoo Jonghyuk, unlike the one in Ways of Survival , knew Kim Dokja existed, and therefore had the capacity to hate him.

“Here. This one’s pretty short, so you can do it in 30 minutes, last I checked.” Kim Dokja set a timer on his phone, and read Ways of Survival as Yoo Jonghyuk took the practice test. 

Thirty minutes passed, concluded by the shrill ringing of the alarm. Yoo Jonghyuk took his pencil off the paper, a storm practically brewing on his face. The exam was multiple choice and focused on interpreting passages. Kim Dokja quickly found the answer key and went through it, grading Yoo Jonghyuk’s answers.

After he finished grading, Kim Dokja put the paper down, stared, then picked it back up and graded it again.

When he got the same score the second time, Kim Dokja began making sure he got the right answer key. When he had confirmed it was, indeed, the correct answer key, he took a deep breath, looked Yoo Jonghyuk in the eyes and asked, “Are you really this stupid?"

“Are you really this weak?” Remembering those words, Kim Dokja could barely suppress the smirk on his face as Yoo Jonghyuk clenched his jaw. But when Yoo Jonghyuk’s gaze shifted away from him, rather uncharacteristically backing down, Kim Dokja knew the situation was dire.

“Yoo Jonghyuk. You got over half of the questions wrong. The exams are in two days.”

“I’m aware, you fool.”

Kim Dokja decided to politely ignore Yoo Jonghyuk calling him a fool after that tragic performance. “You’ve come to the tutoring sessions way too late, so if I’m being honest, raising your score on the exams is going to be nearly impossible.”

“I just need to pass.” 

Kim Dokja leaned back, flipping through the test and trying to figure out what kind of question Yoo Jonghyuk tended to get wrong most often. He ranked the question types, then went over each of them with Yoo Jonghyuk.

Surprisingly, he found that the other student was an attentive listener when he wasn’t berating Kim Dokja about how much of a fool he was. When Kim Dokja gave more examples, Yoo Jonghyuk obediently did them, trying his best.

After they had gotten through most of the questions, Kim Dokja was rather stumped. “Yoo Jonghyuk, you seem like a diligent guy, so how did your scores end up like this?” He gestured at the practice test.

Yoo Jonghyuk’s grip on his pencil tightened so much that the pencil snapped in half. Kim Dokja decided to back off before he ended up much like the pencil, mutely offering another one to Yoo Jonghyuk as a peace offering.

“I’m not a good test taker.” Yoo Jonghyuk finally grunted.

“Oh, so you’re like me.” The words left Kim Dokja’s mouth without much thought, and he nearly choked. What was he saying?! Yoo Jonghyuk was nothing like him. He had a sea of admirers, an adoring sister, and a presence that inspired awe. Yoo Jonghyuk bore the traits of every overpowered protagonist ever—

well, save, he supposed, for his inability to take tests, apparently. It was a bit odd, that Yoo Jonghyuk was not the genius the whole school took him to be.

“What?” Yoo Jonghyuk’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t you a tutor?”

Kim Dokja rubbed his neck sheepishly. “It’s a long story. Anyway, if you’re not a good test taker, why didn’t you come to the tutoring sessions earlier?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“The answer to whether I’m a tutor or not is ‘unofficially.’ Now, answer my question.”

Caught, Yoo Jonghyuk closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, then slowly exhaling. Finally, he spoke. “I don’t… didn’t need help.”

Kim Dokja wordlessly gestured at the papers strewn on the table.

“I dislike relying on others to achieve my goals. I was confident I could pass by studying on my own.”

“You mean, you wanted to appease your fans.”

“Do you want to die? And I couldn’t care less for my ‘fans.’”

“How could you not? Aren’t they always crowing about how much of a genius you are?”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes narrowed, and he simply looked at Kim Dokja with an unreadable expression. Kim Dokja froze, wondering if he had stepped out of line. But it was the truth, was it not? 

Could it be that Yoo Jonghyuk really did not care about his hoard of fans? Kim Dokja mulled it over. Maybe being constantly surrounded by them had inflated his ego past the point of caring.

“There you are, you bastard.” Suddenly, a short black-haired girl slapped Yoo Jonghyuk on the shoulder and promptly sat down next to him.

It was none other than Han Sooyoung, who was now pulling out a lollipop despite the fact that food was prohibited in the library. She saw Kim Dokja, looked vaguely surprised, then shrugged and waved.

“What the hell do you want?” Yoo Jonghyuk asked.

“Wow, you finally gave in and asked for help?” Han Sooyoung leaned forward and flipped through the tests, whistling when she saw Yoo Jonghyuk’s pitiful score.

“It’s none of your business.” Yoo Jonghyuk practically ripped the test away from her hands.

Han Sooyoung scooted further away from Yoo Jonghyuk, her hands up in the air. She whispered conspiratorially to Kim Dokja, “You might not believe it, but that guy actually spends every night studying. He barely gets any sleep.”

“And how do you know that?” Kim Dokja asked incredulously.

“I have my ways.” Han Sooyoung winked.

“Everyone’s been saying he’s a genius who doesn’t need to study, though?”

“You really think any of those idiots know what he’s actually like?”

“But you know.” Kim Dokja side-eyed Yoo Jonghyuk, whose face was transforming into something out of a horror movie.

“Of course,” Han Sooyoung chirped, ignoring Yoo Jonghyuk.

Yoo Jonghyuk slammed the table. “Han Sooyoung, that’s enough.” He paused as the rest of the library reacted to the commotion, then began rapidly gathering all of the papers laying on the table.

“What are you doing?” Kim Dokja stood up.

“Leaving to study in peace.” Yoo Jonghyuk dumped all the papers, including his failed practice test, into his schoolbag.

“Leaving so soon?” Han Sooyoung raised an eyebrow.

Yoo Jonghyuk said nothing, picking up his schoolbag.

The tutoring session isn’t even over and he’s leaving. Kim Dokja drummed his fingers on the table. It wasn’t as though he could stop him, so… “Yoo Jonghyuk, don’t forget what I told you. Read things more carefully before answering and don’t mix up those phrases I wrote down for you."

As much as he disliked Yoo Jonghyuk, Kim Dokja didn’t want for their tutoring session to be a complete failure. The other boy, however, showed no sign of having heard Kim Dokja, and was soon out of earshot.

“Dammit.” Kim Dokja groaned, flopping back down into his seat.

Han Sooyoung was still there. “You’re pretty serious about this tutor thing, aren’t you?” She yawned.

“And you. Did you have to come here and harass him like that?” Kim Dokja crossed his arms.

“I do it all the time. Besides, why are you defending him? Are you part of his fanbase or something?”

“I’m not his fan.” Kim Dokja thought about Ways of Survival . No, the man he was… a fan of was the kind of person who protected others and withstood any calamity to reach the end. 

“Oh, good. Me neither.” 

“Aren’t you guys.. friends?” 

Han Sooyoung started laughing so hard she choked. “Me? Friends with that guy?”

Kim Dokja placed a hand on his forehead, frowning. If Han Sooyoung, who apparently knew things about Yoo Jonghyuk that his fans didn’t, and was friendly enough with him to slap his shoulder, unprompted, wasn’t friends with Yoo Jonghyuk, then what were they?

Wait. Could it be?

That was right—hadn’t Yoo Jonghyuk immediately approached them upon seeing Han Sooyoung in class? And besides, her aggressive personality was a far cry from the fawning fans Yoo Jonghyuk tended to get.

Wasn’t there some romance like this? Kim Dokja was sure he had encountered some novels of this genre before. Han Sooyoung was, as those trashy novels would put it, “not like other girls.” 

The possibility seemed astronomically low, but it made sense. Maybe, Han Sooyoung and Yoo Jonghyuk had miraculously hit it off, and—

“Hey, I don’t like that expression on your face. What are you planning?”

Kim Dokja started and smothered whatever “expression” he had been wearing. “Uh, nothing. Anyway, did you seriously not study the entire week?”

“That was a horrible change of conversation topic. Am I supposed to just let you get away with that?”

“Considering you scared off my tutee…”

Han Sooyoung popped the lollipop out of her mouth, waving it around between her fingers. “Fine. Do you think a beautiful genius like me needs to study?”

Kim Dokja sighed. “You can’t be serious. Then why are you even here?”

“Originally it was to find Yoo Jonghyuk, but since you’re here, I’m not opposed to bothering you as well.”

Kim Dokja supposed if Han Sooyoung and Yoo Jonghyuk had the relationship he thought they had, that would make sense. Meanwhile, in Ways of Survival , people had always wanted to find Yoo Jonghyuk. He was someone who could give aid, encouragement, and knowledge of the future to his allies.

And like that Yoo Jonghyuk, Kim Dokja now had reasons for others to stay. For them to look him in the eye and see not a monster or dangerous product of a criminal, but a person. Like the characters in Ways of Survival , he had something to give. 

But Han Sooyoung didn’t want tutoring. Why was she here, then? She had no reason to sit and waste time away with the son of a murderer.

Han Sooyoung prepared to say something, when her eyes caught onto someone behind Kim Dokja. “Actually, maybe another time. Gotta go!” Before Kim Dokja could respond, she had disappeared, practically tearing out of the library door.

“”Who was that?” Yoo Sangah said next to Kim Dokja, carrying a math textbook.

“.... No one important,” Kim Dokja said, bewildered. He did remember Han Sooyoung scowling whenever Yoo Sangah was brought up, but still couldn’t figure out why. “Yoo Jonghyuk left early.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. Some students are like that.” Yoo Sangah shifted the textbook in her arms. “Since you’re not busy, Dokja-ssi, I wanted to thank you properly. You’ve been a huge help around here recently.”

“Thank you, Sangah-ssi. I’m trying to study harder this time,” Kim Dokja said.

“It helps to have another tutor!” Lee Hyunsung suddenly chimed in, dumping a stack of papers on the table next to him.

“It really does.” Jung Heewon was the last to appear, her schoolbag already on her shoulder. “Hey, do you want to go get ice cream after this?” She suddenly asked.

“I—”

“Oh, that would be lovely! You should come with us, Dokja-ssi.” Yoo Sangah said, but her voice was tentative, hesitant.

The offer reminded Kim Dokja of a metaphorical hand. He could inspect the lines on the palm, woven together by careful promises and bright voices. Kim Dokja wondered if he could respond. Maybe this time. Maybe—

“Tomorrow.” Kim Dokja suddenly answered. Again, he remembered the kids, and what he had told them the first time they’d met. Another promise, one he had eventually failed to maintain.

But perhaps this time it could be different. If things kept changing, if he kept working harder—

“You’ll come with us tomorrow?” Jung Heewon asked.

Kim Dokja felt something catch in his throat, but he pushed through it anyway. “Tomorrow. Since it’s the weekend before exams week, anyway. I… I’ll go with you guys.”

A radiant smile bloomed on Yoo Sangah’s face, and Kim Dokja really felt she was deserving of the title “Moonlight Empress,” as dramatic as it was.

—

Realizing he had forgotten something in his classroom, Kim Dokja had told the others to go on without him after agreeing to go for ice cream the next day. 

He opened the door to classroom 1-B and made a beeline for his desk, relieved to see his beaten-up notebook was still there. He had primarily used it for Ways of Survival -related doodles, but recently Kim Dokja had repurposed it to take more notes for review.

As he put it in his schoolbag, Kim Dokja heard breathing apart from his own, and realized he was not alone in the classroom.

WIth a start, Kim Dokja spun around to see a boy completely passed out on his desk, over a pile of worksheets. However, what surprised Kim Dokja further was the identity of the boy.

“Yoo Jonghyuk?” Kim Dokja said incredulously.

At the sound of his name, Yoo Jonghyuk stirred and blinked his eyes open. He swept the area around him with a tired glare, landing on Kim Dokja. Oddly, Yoo Jonghyuk looked less angry than normal—there were bags sitting under his eyes, and a certain worn quality to his face that weathered away at his traditionally sharp look.

When he noticed Kim Dokja still lingering, he frowned. “What do you want?” He said gruffly, though the effect was lessened by him rubbing his head and groaning.

“Were you just going to sleep in the school tonight?” 

“I was—” Yoo Jonghyuk pressed a hand into his temple. “Of course not. I have to pick up Mia.”

Thinking of the little girl with pigtails, Kim Dokja wondered why their parents couldn’t simply just pick her up. He also wondered why Yoo Jonghyuk hadn’t just gone home, instead continuing to study at school. 

But what he eventually asked was neither of those things. “Do you have a headache?”

Yoo Jonghyuk immediately took his hand away from his head. “How did you—”

“Han Sooyoung told me you study all the time and don’t get any sleep. It would make sense for you to get migraines from that.”

“:... and why do you care?”

Kim Dokja pondered the question. It made sense; why did he care about this unfairly popular, slightly egotistical bastard’s wellbeing in the slightest? He knew Yoo Jonghyuk definitely could care less about him, too.

“I’m in a good mood,” Kim Dokja finally said. “Give me a moment.” He left to his schoolbag and dug through the pockets, before finding a small bottle of over-the-counter pills he used occasionally for his own headaches. 

Kim Dokja experimentally shook the bottle to make sure there were still pills inside, and then tossed it back at Yoo Jonghyuk, who caught it with ease.

“What is this?” Yoo Jonghyuk inspected the bottle carefully.

“Headache medicine, you bastard. It’s not poisoned, so don’t worry.”

“Why are you helping me?” Yoo Jonghyuk said.

Without turning around, Kim Dokja said, “Who knows. Maybe I’m using this as a way to put you in debt, so you can carry out a favor for me later.”

There was an abrupt silence, and Kim Dokja wondered if Yoo Jonghyuk was going to strike him dead where he stood.

“Of course, uh, that was a joke. But you should take those pills, since I’ve gone to the trouble of finding them for you.” Kim Dokja amended his statement.

“.. Fine.” Yoo Jonghyuk opened the bottle and took a few pills, before screwing the lid back on and tossing it back at Kim Dokja. 

“Feeling better yet?” Kim Dokja asked jokingly.

“The label said it needs around an hour to take effect,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, no trace of humor in his voice. 

Of course Yoo Jonghyuk couldn’t sense a joke even if it slapped him in the face. Kim Dokja sighed. “I know, I know. Anyway, you should go now. I think I’ve hit my quota of being in your presence for the week.”

Kim Dokja heard shuffling as Yoo Jonghyuk picked up his things, then footsteps. They stopped, then he heard another frustrated sigh as Yoo Jonghyuk continued walking away.

Kim Dokja picked up his bag, and after making sure he left nothing behind in the classroom, he headed out. He didn’t want to miss going for ice cream with the others.

What flavor would he get? He thought of the tomato-flavored popsicle Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung had found him and shuddered. Definitely not that.. although, looking back, the memory was a bit funny to Kim Dokja. He hoped the kids were doing well.

As the halls were relatively empty since most of the students had left, Kim Dokja let himself wonder. For the first time in years, people had talked to him with a smile on their face. Not a forced grin for politeness, or one of artificial conceiving, but a true, thankful smile.

And besides, Kim Dokja felt almost overprepared for the exams. He had studied the entire week, reinforced it in the classes and during the tutoring sessions, and even learned beyond the scope of his courses. He briefly considered just heading home and studying more, then shook his head. There was no need to. Surely he hadn’t forgotten anythin—

Suddenly, a shoe planted itself in his back and flung him forward. Kim Dokja stumbled and fell onto his knees, but a hand on his head kept him from looking up. 

Oh, he had forgotten about that.  

“You’ve gotten real good at hide-and-seek, haven’t you, you damn son of a bitch?” Song Minwoo growled into his ear.

Chapter Text

His father was screaming again.

It was dark, where the boy hid. Rain struck the windows, silver bullets hailing from the pitch-black heavens. Thunder flashed outside, adding a razor edge to his father’s threats. Perhaps today would be the day his words finally sliced past that hypothetical barrier into reality.

He shut his eyes. With every hit and slam, his father sent a tremor ringing throughout their dingy apartment. The boy shuddered. When would those cruel fists reach him? When would the pain, bleak and cold, crack his skin, like always?

He wished he was stronger. Some days, when the night was a glass ceiling of glittering stars, when the house was quiet and his mother read bedtime stories to him, he could pretend that he was strong. That things could change.

But the boy knew all too well that the smashing bottles and drunken cries would return, leaving him alone once more in that shattered night.

—

Kim Dokja had rather generously given Song Minwoo’s lunch to Yoo Jonghyuk that day several weeks ago, after that incident with the confession. Since then, Kim Dokja had managed to avoid Song Minwoo by sheer luck and chance—hiding in the library, going to tutoring sessions after school, letting himself be lost in the crowd of students.

It seemed, however, that his luck had finally run dry.

He bit back a cough as Song Minwoo drove a fist into his stomach. It was a pity. The bruises had just started to heal.

“I asked you for my lunch, what, a week ago? What the hell happened, you good-for-nothing piece of trash?” Song Minwoo swung again.

Kim Dokja clutched his stomach, staggering against the wall. Amidst the pain, a question burst through the fog. Most students had left school—because of the tutoring sessions and Yoo Jonghyuk, Kim Dokja had ended up staying later than usual. Why was Song Minwoo here, then?

“You know, I’m not stupid. I’ve heard rumors. About that murderer’s kid, tutoring people in the library after school, getting all buddy-buddy with the clowns in the student council.” Song Minwoo crossed his arms. 

This time, when Song Minwoo kicked him, Kim Dokja blocked it, pretending his arms weren’t shaking with pain. 

“Wow, you look angry. Is it because of that student council president? Yoo Sangah, or something.” Song Minwoo frowned. “You know, I asked her out once and she rejected me. Fucking bitch, she’s not even that pretty.”

Kim Dokja could handle abuse from Song Minwoo. From birth, there had always been someone in his life who loomed over him. Even after his father had died, that figure had continued to exist. 

But something about the way Song Minwoo talked about his—about the people kind enough to extend a hand to him, made Kim Dokja want to bash his head in more than ever.

“I’m sure you got rejected for a reason.” Kim Dokja sneered, before wheezing as the air was knocked out of him. He crumpled to the ground gasping for breath, hard linoleum like ice against his skin.

“Man, who told you to talk back?” Song Minwoo yawned, then planted his foot on Kim Dokja’s head, forcing his face into the ground. “Do you really think those students in the library care about you?”

Kim Dokja remembered polite thank-yous and the barest hints of smiles. He clenched his fists, even as Song Minwoo’s shoe pressed harder. 

“No way. You’re hilarious, you know that? The moment exams are over they’ll all go back to laughing at how stupid you are. Nobody wants to play with a murderer’s son, not even those high-and-mighty student council members.”

There were sunsets, and promises to eat ice cream over the weekend. That was right, Kim Dokja needed to—

He grabbed Song Minwoo’s ankle and wrenched him off, watching the other boy topple to the ground with a shocked expression. Kim Dokja sat up, groaning, aware of the dirt from Song Minwoo’s shoe on his clothes and hair. 

He needed to get out. Away. Kim Dokja unsteadily scrambled up, eyes fixed on his fallen schoolbag, where textbooks had flooded out onto the floor.

“You little—” Song Minwoo managed to get up and shove Kim Dokja into the wall, a disgusted expression on his face. He then noticed the textbooks on the ground, and picked one up. “What, you bought actual textbooks?”

With that, Song Minwoo flung one of the textbooks to the ground, before another notebook caught his eye. It was a worn notebook, pages aflutter, notes and drawings scrawled everywhere. It was none other than the notebook Kim Dokja had originally come back to get from the classroom, before encountering Yoo Jonghyuk.

Warning bells faintly rang in Kim Dokja’s head. He reached out, but even the action of raising his arm hurt.

“Oh?” Song Minwoo callously flipped through the notebook, his leer twisting more and more. He held up a page in the beginning, a power chart of Ways of Survival Characters . “Why do you have Yoo Jonghyuk’s name here? Are you one of his fans or something?” He scanned the list, then started laughing. It was a high-pitched, jeering noise, like a hyena.

“It’s not him,” Kim Dokja gritted his teeth. “It’s the character from—”

“The hell? I swear that was his name. Oh, whatever, nobody cares about your stupid novels.” Song Minwoo turned to another page. This one was covered in notes for the exam, equations and formulas cascading down the lined sheets.

At this, Song Minwoo’s expression flipped from cruel amusement to a more mutely, furious gaze. This one felt different. It was different from the Song Minwoo Kim Dokja was used to.

This one felt more dangerous.

“Drop it,” Kim Dokja said, not proud of the way his voice shook.

“You were serious. I thought it was a joke.” Song Minwoo continued turning pages, but only found more notes, dates and events for history, grammatical rules for Korean, and more. Finally, Song Minwoo looked at Kim Dokja, who was leaning heavily against the wall.

“What are you—what are you trying to do?” Song Minwoo sounded vaguely lost for a moment, as if the sight of Kim Dokja’s labor genuinely had stunned him. “The son of a murderer, trying to tutor other students and get good grades?”

Song Minwoo began pacing back and forth. “What a joke, what a joke, what a fucking joke—” He suddenly turned to Kim Dokja. “Don’t you know your place? You’re a pathetic lunch boy. The only thing you’re good for is getting sandwiches, but you couldn’t even do that.” His words started quickening, until they were practically falling over on top of each other. “You—you’re a loser. You’re weak, and scrawny, you read stupid novels, you don’t have parents, you have no friends, you—”

“That doesn’t matter, Song Minwoo. I’m going to pass the exams. I’ll prove that I’m more than what remains of my mother’s actions.” Kim Dokja finally straightened up, his brows set in a hard line.

“And if you fail? What then?” Song Minwoo snorted. “Then you’ll have nothing. You’ll just be a freak.”

Kim Dokja wanted to respond, but a part of him realized Song Minwoo was right. If Kim Dokja failed here, he really would be nothing. If he failed, even after receiving so much help, what kind of person would he be?

That was right, he would just be ‘Dokja’ again, the lonely child. 

“I won’t fail,” Kim Dokja said, his eyes burning with steel. He remembered the way Lee Hyunsung persevered, even when he struggled on the worksheet to the point of tears. “I’m better than you, than what you think I am.”

Song Minwoo tilted his head. The setting sun in the window beside him looked like fire on the horizon, outlining Song Minwoo in a blood red haze. “You think you’re ‘better than me’ ?” He smiled, then, lips curling into a twisted, venomous thing.

“What are you—”

Then Song Minwoo promptly bent down and scooped up several more textbooks, stacking them in his arms with the notebook. “Catch me if you can, psycho boy!” He yelled, running off.

Kim Dokja shoved the remaining textbooks into his schoolbag. He heard a cracking noise coming from the bag, but ignored it, too focused on the notebook that Song Minwoo had just carted away. He slung the schoolbag on his shoulder and took off through the halls.

His heart slammed in his chest, his breaths coming short and quick, as he trailed Song Minwoo through the school. Song Minwoo led them around winding hallways and up flights of stairs, taking abrupt turns and disappearing around corners. 

Finally, they stopped in an empty classroom on one of the upper levels. Kim Dokja stood in the doorway, watching the way the last embers of the sun were swallowed up by shadows. Song Minwoo was standing by an open classroom window. He saw Kim Dokja and grinned, baring his teeth. His fingers dug like claws into the notebook, and he dangled it over the open window.

Then, without warning, he released it. He picked up the remaining textbooks and also threw them out the window, pure glee on his face.

Kim Dokja felt his heart clench, and dashed forward. How could he, what was the point of all this, Song Minwoo had to pay— 

his head spun as a hand slammed him face-first into the wall. Black dots scattered across his vision and he retched, crumpling to the ground. Song Minwoo dug his hands into Kim Dokja’s shirt collar and pulled him up, spitting in his face.

“What the hell are you trying to pull? You really have some nerve, huh?” 

Up close, Song Minwoo’s face reminded Kim Dokja of a hungry wolf. Curled lips revealing pearly white teeth, veins flaring on his forehead, something almost crazed in his pupils. Kim Dokja blinked, willing the haze in his head to fade. 

“You want your shitty books that bad?” Song Minwoo laughed, then turned Kim Dokja around and shoved his head down, forcing him to look out the window. “Then go! Jump after them!” 

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, mottled clouds gathering in the shadows cast overhead. Kim Dokja felt like he was suffocating, the air heavy with stained memories and resignation. He remembered this view.

The ground was so far away.

“This is how it went, right?” Song Minwoo’s hand dug into his neck. Kim Dokja’s arms couldn’t move to get him off.

“Why are you—doing this—” Kim Dokja groaned as Song Minwoo slammed his jaw into the windowsill. A bruise was likely blooming there now.

“Isn’t it fucking obvious? How are you , a pathetic loser who reads shitty novels and has no friends, a tutor? Getting so close to the student council? How is everything going your way like you’re some full-of-yourself protagonist?!”

“I wasn’t—”

“You’re not a damn protagonist, and you’ll never be one. You’re just a psycho pretending to be something you’re not, and when they all realize that, you’ll lose everything.”

Song Minwoo shoved him further over the windowsill. Rain stung the back of Kim Dokja’s head, and the wind whistled by. Kim Dokja bit back the bile stirring in his throat, like lava, threatening to erupt.

It was cold.

It was a cold, rainy day, thunder razing the universe in two, and Kim Dokja could see him on the floor, saw the sparkling red, like wine, trickling from him and seeping into the floor. He could feel something, sharp and freezing in his hand, his ears ringing, his mother—

his mother, behind bars, writing their existence into a story, selling herself and her son like products. What a wonderful deal it was, a bit of money he couldn’t even touch for the cheap price of two lives.

He could sail through the air right now, let the rain carry him down, anchor him at the bottom of a stormy sky and perhaps this time it would work. 

He heard a snap, somewhere in his body. And then, retching, something violent tearing out of him, and Song Minwoo holding his nose and screaming in disgust. It smelled quite bad. Good thing he hadn’t eaten much today.

Kim Dokja closed his eyes and let himself fall.

—

He dreamed. Or, he might have dreamed, but Kim Dokja was not certain. It was but slivers of a memory, or perhaps an exaggeration. His mother’s voice, kind at one moment and exhausted in the next, then desperate and fearful. 

Kim Dokja lurched awake to the sound of thunder, exploding in the air and reverberating through the glass panes.

Long shadows crept about the classroom. There was no moonlight. Rain had slithered through the window, leaving Kim Dokja’s clothes slightly damp. The air, though humid, was devoid of any rainfall currently. He wiped his mouth, trying to adjust to the darkness. There was vomit on the floor, and his entire body ached. Song Minwoo was nowhere to be seen.

Kim Dokja shakily propped himself up, clinging onto the open windowsill. His head spun and the classroom twisted in several directions. He felt like vomiting again. Maybe not eating any food at all would have been more helpful.

He found some tissues and ended up wiping the vomit up, balling up the filthy tissues and tossing them away. The school was eerily quiet, each step of his ringing throughout the building. As his eyes became used to the lack of light, Kim Dokja saw the clock hands at around 12 AM. 

Remembering he needed his schoolbag, Kim Dokja turned and flinched as the world bursted in a flash, blinding him. Moments later, the low crackle of thunder had Kim Dokja clutching a nearby desk, his jaw clenched. It hurt to do so, but he’d rather endure the bruises than fall apart from a simple surprise like that.

Kim Dokja figured he needed to get out of the school. It was the natural course of action, a logical decision within the swirling sea of unreliable feelings drifting in his head. So he made the decision to leave, walking to the entrance of the classroom, and realized he was hopelessly lost.

He didn’t know where Song Minwoo had dragged him, and was not familiar with this floor. Kim Dokja ended up walking around anyway, listening to the rain fall outside, mixing shadowy hallways together and pretending he didn’t notice the way the walls leered at him. HIs phone flashlight was but a small prick of light, cutting through the darkness.

The lights weren’t on. Why would they be, at this hour?

Thunder jolted and Kim Dokja saw the silhouette of a monster flicker in the doorway in front of him. His heart nearly forced its way out of his chest and he jumped back, his pulse screaming in his ear.

It was merely a shadow. If he were in Ways of Survival , he wouldn’t be scared of a mere shadow. Yoo Jonghyuk had faced much worse in that ruined world. 

“You’re not a damn protagonist, and you’ll never be one.”

Kim Dokja gritted his teeth, sealing those words away, burying them where he couldn’t hear them, for now. So he continued walking, but his heart did not slow down. Every corner seemed to be another reporter, or his blood-stained father, or his mother’s sad eyes, blinking in the night.

I am Yoo Jonghyuk, he chanted, every time the memories drew too close. With each chant, he was further reminded of how unlike Yoo Jonghyuk he was.

Finally, Kim Dokja grew tired and sat down outside of a classroom, next to an open seating area that was shaped like a hexagon, oddly enough. He leaned against the wall, rubbing the bruise on his neck. His phone was still in his pocket, though chipped. He considered calling for help, before remembering there was no one who would answer.

The floor was cold, and he shifted uncomfortably, debating what to do. Suddenly, something slipped out of his bag. It was a crumpled piece of paper—none other than the ridiculous map Yoo Jonghyuk had tossed at him, so many weeks ago.

Kim Dokja unfurled the map, then turned on his cellphone’s flashlight. The crude handwriting remained, still telling him to stop getting lost and being late. For now he ignored it, shifting his attention to the image of the 69th floor on the right. Perhaps if he could find his location on the map, he could use it to get out of the school.

Lightning lit up the hallway and Kim Dokja squeezed his eyes shut, the map still vivid in his mind. He swore he heard a camera shutter go off, but he had never been too good at separating his memories from his present.

It was fine. He could figure it out. He was Yoo Jonghyuk, the cold-blooded protagonist, with nerves of steel. Yoo Jonghyuk did not quake in fear of dead ghosts and inky darkness.

But he knew, deep down, he was not Yoo Jonghyuk, and so he shivered anyway. But was it really so bad, to just pretend, even if only for a little?

After what felt like eons, Kim Dokja’s shaky gaze found a hexagonal area, and a familiar classroom next to it. With the map clenched tightly in his hand, Kim Dokja stood up and began walking, using his phone as a flashlight, trying to ignore the gurgling fear of what could be behind him.

He made wrong turns several times, feeling his blood turn to ice as the hallways began to differ from what was on the map. Each and every time, Kim Dokja convinced himself that he was someone else, who could brave the lonely dark and rationalize his surroundings. 

Kim Dokja had to remain logical, efficient, with his goal clearly in sight. It was something Yoo Jonghyuk would do, if he were real.

The school was suffocating, which must have been why Kim Dokja pocketed his phone and began running towards the entrance the moment he saw it. It was not because he could feel their whispers, clawing at his heels, dragging themselves across the floor to pull him back. 

He was Yoo Jonghyuk, who did not let himself lose to others. 

Thunder clapped as Kim Dokja flung open the school doors, stepping out into the pitch-black storm. Wind flapped against his clothes and tossed his hair about, freezing rain slamming into his skin and razing into his bruises. The icy air was like metal, burning his throat and eyes.

Even so, Kim Dokja stood under the rain, breathing in the open air, slick water streaming down his face. It tasted a bit salty. 

The clouds flickered, light tearing through the heavens, thunder rumbling. The map in Kim Dokja’s fist was completely ruined, the paper soaked through. To think, that after everything, he still ended up with a debt to Yoo Jonghyuk for throwing the ridiculous map at him. To think, that Kim Dokja had still kept the map with the crude handwriting.

Kim Dokja opened his fist and stared at the paper, practically melting away as the rain relentlessly drummed down. Water dripped from his hair to the ground.

What was he supposed to do now?

That was right, find the textbooks Song Minwoo had thrown out the window.

Kim Dokja dug around in his bag for his umbrella, realizing he should have taken it out earlier. What he found, however, was not his umbrella, but a crushed tangle of metal spires and ripped fabric. Then, that snap earlier had been—

with a curse, Kim Dokja jammed the broken umbrella back into his schoolbag and began pacing around the school’s perimeter. Water seeped into his shoes, and each step was more difficult than the last. When he finally found the books, fallen in a heap, they were all soaked beyond repair.

Kim Dokja picked up his notebook, the one that had been by his side as he read Ways of Survival , the one with all his notes for review. The dumb power charts he’d drawn to entertain himself, the messy doodles where he imagined what the Ways of Survival characters must have looked like—all gone, washed away in a flood.

It was just a notebook. It was just a notebook, so—

But even then, it hurt. It hurt to admit that Yoo Jonghyuk had been right, the whole time. Kim Dokja had simply refused to admit it. What he hated more was that Song Minwoo had also been right.

He wasn’t capable of standing up against others, and he didn’t deserve the things that had happened to him the past week. Kim Dokja had been unnaturally lucky, and he’d been too eager to bask in his misplaced fortune.

“You win, you bastard,” Kim Dokja said, to no one in particular. He raised the map up, preparing to throw it away—but his chest twisted and he stopped. Kim Dokja wiped his eyes, his breaths coming out in stilted shudders. Paper crinkled and he shoved the now-useless map into his pocket. 

Slowly, mechanically, Kim Dokja began picking up his blotted out books and jamming them into his schoolbag.

It was cold.

—

Kim Dokja’s arrival at home was quiet, nothing more than a shadow slipping through the door and collapsing in his small room in a hidden corner of the house. No one bothered to greet him, not they ever had.

Too exhausted to change, ignoring the dull ache throughout his body, Kim Dokja sat at his creaky desk, dumping his schoolbag out onto the table.

He stared resolutely at the damp notebook, with the papers crinkling and practically dissolving into themselves due to the rainwater. 

“And if you fail? What then? Then you’ll have nothing. You’ll just be a freak.”

Kim Dokja took out a pencil, found some paper, and opened what remained of his textbooks. He sat at the desk for a long time, refusing to leave.

Not when the sun peeked over the horizon, not when the rain and thunder faded away, and not when the moon, round and pale, rose up into a clear night sky. Even as his mind was buried in fog, his body still freezing, memories of the cold rain seeping into his skin. The pencil continued to move, and Kim Dokja continued to drown himself in Song Minwoo’s words as he pored over more materials. 

—

On the first day of exams, Kim Dokja woke up, nausea boiling in his stomach and rising to his throat. Trying to stand up made his head ring, and shadows fell over his eyes, buzzing incessantly. 

Even so, he woke up, and somehow stumbled to school. The walls still reeked of bruises and wretched jeering. Kim Dokja wondered if Song Minwoo was going to pop out of the bricks, or if he would accidentally smash his face into the wall first. The latter sounded preferable.

“Dokja-ssi.” A reporter with brown hair said, grabbing his arm. It hurt. Did they have to press their fingers right into that bruise like that?

It took Kim Dokja an alarming amount of time to realize it wasn’t a reporter calling his name. He blinked.

“Dokja-ssi, are you okay? We waited for you for several hours yesterday, but you never came.” Yoo Sangah said, the morning sun framing her in gold. If the sun was out, why was it so cold? 

Kim Dokja sluggishly pulled his arm out of her grip. “I’m fine. Sorry. Wanted to study more.”

His reassurance was met with a disturbed?—disgusted?—a nonetheless unhappy look, from what Kim Dokja could see. Disappointing people was normal for him, however, so Kim Dokja wasn’t surprised.

“You’re clearly not! You don’t look fine at all.”

Kim Dokja’s tongue felt too heavy to move. It was just like Yoo Sangah, to constantly worry about others, even if they didn’t need it. Kim Dokja didn’t need people to worry about him. 

Ever since his father’s death, no one had worried about him. Why had it changed in high school? It was odd. It had been all at once, multiple people trying to reach out to him for no reason whatsoever. 

“I need. The bathroom.” Kim Dokja managed, before running away.

Running away was very tiring. Kim Dokja knew he was unathletic, but he hadn’t expected it to be this horrendous. Some students gave him disgruntled glances as he leaned against a wall, panting.

His head felt very heavy. Maybe if someone tapped it the wrong way, it would fall off his shoulders. But he needed it for the exams. He had studied for those, if he recalled correctly. Kim Dokja shivered, before trying to find his classroom. What was it? Classroom 1-B.

Kim Dokja walked into class just as the exams began. His teacher scolded him, but he turned the words out, the reprimands turning to mush in his brain. It was difficult to focus when the classroom felt like a freezer. Why had they turned the AC up so much?

That was right, it was summer. Kim Dokja still highly disagreed with the temperature choices of the school, however.

As Kim Dokja sat down to take the exam, his eyelids attempted to sink shut. With tremendous effort, he forced them open. His hand refused to stop trembling, and he watched goosebumps arc along his skin. It was seriously too cold.

The ink of the questions blurred together. Kim Dokja vaguely recognized some phrases, but try as he might, his mind refused to throw up what he had spent the week studying. He constantly found himself rereading questions, seeing the words yet unable to piece their meaning together.

Fatigue pounded at his head, and Kim Dokja rubbed his eyes. How long had passed? An hour? He had barely made any progress. Why weren’t the questions making sense?

He shoved through the fog, trying to break past the haze in his mind. Yet with each cloud parted, another took its place, until everything seemed to melt together and Kim Dokja felt the nausea return, hammering at his head and contorting in his throat.

He needed to… he…

Something swayed. Was it his shaking heart, or was the desk spinning? Kim Dokja tried to steady himself within the chaos, but nothing remained still. The only constants were the chill biting into his bones, clawing up his spine and making it difficult to move.

When Kim Dokja woke up again, the exam had concluded. The clock telling him how much time he’d wasted was cackling at him on the wall.

He had failed. There was no way he had done well on that.

But there was nothing he could do, so Kim Dokja prayed tomorrow’s exam would go better, went home, and furiously studied more.

Yet throughout the week, each exam only seemed to be worse than the last. Kim Dokja constantly felt on the verge of vomiting. He did sleep, a few hours, and he certainly was eating a bit every day, so he didn’t understand what the issue was. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew the basics.

By the end of the final exam, Kim Dokja felt a sense of simple despair—clouded only by the immensely persistent pounding in his head and the sluggish way his body moved. Why was it still so cold?

“Hey, dumbass, how were the—” Han Sooyoung cut herself off, leaning unnecessarily close and peering at Kim Dokja’s face. 

He managed to drag his gaze onto her in response, but nothing more. 

“... Are you okay?” Han Sooyoung’s voice shifted from its sharp cadence into something… more dull, as if she were afraid of shattering him.

Kim Dokja slowly put a hand on his forehead, but he couldn’t tell if the heat was from his own palms or his head. Sweat trickled down his back, but he was freezing. Everything sounded muffled, as if he were sunken underwater. 

Of course he was going to fail the exams. Why had he expected anything more? He was used to failure. He would barely straggle his way through high school, probably get into some third-rate college, get hired for a pitiful job at a no-name company, and then, when Ways of Survival concluded—

“Kim Dokja? You there?” Han Sooyoung experimentally waved a hand in front of his face. 

What would happen if he failed? It made sense that he’d lose everything. Yoo Sangah and the others would see him for what he was, the students that seemed to be warming up to him would turn away, the rumors would begin again, everything would stay the same.

Remembering it was a half day, he stood up. It was time to leave. He could go back to his house and read Ways of Survival . He could forget about everything if he let the story dissolve him.

Han Sooyoung grabbed his wrist, and with great effort, Kim Dokja shook her off. He walked towards the classroom entrance in a daze, but his balance seemed unstable and every step felt as though he were teetering at the edge of a cliff. There was a commotion behind him, a table screeching against the floor and someone standing up.

Hadn’t he been feeling cold a moment ago? Why was it so hot now? Kim Dokja’s brain seemed to tumble out of his skull, and he stood with a hand on the wall, breathing heavily. Students were staring.

But what did it matter? Hadn’t he been stared at his whole life? By the same bastard reporters, his shitty classmates, the world that saw him and saw nothing more than a tragic little product of a stupid crime. His aunt and uncle would probably scold him the moment they saw his exam scores, as if it really mattered to them.

Kim Dokja walked in the general direction of the school entrance. It wasn’t difficult. All he had to do was follow the crowd. The harsh chatter of the students pierced his ears, and Kim Dokja cringed. He would prefer for it to be quiet. It was also too bright. 

As he walked out of the school, stumbling along the familiar path back, Kim Dokja could do nothing but focus on putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring his labored breathing. 

Just last week, he had walked this route, watching the sun set and spending time with the student council members. He had hoped. That perhaps his life would shift, something could be different. He could prove to Yoo Jonghyuk he wasn’t weak, he could amend his mistakes with Yoo Sangh and Jung Heewon. He could even befriend Han Sooyoung, properly this time. And yet, it always returned to this.

A shaky map, guiding him through the dark. Soft voices, asking after his health. Bright yellow lollipops. Undeserved, foolish, perplexing warmth that he could never repay.

Kim Dokja looked up, realizing he had somehow made his way to the playground. He wasn’t supposed to come here anymore. The kids were nowhere to be seen, as expected. 

With a groan, he dropped his schoolbag onto that familiar bench, sat down, his head ringing, and convinced himself he just needed to rest a bit. Then he would go back to his house, in that musty attic, and—

and his life would continue, as it always had. Dull, monotonous, a bothersome road with room for only one, bothersome person.

Kim Dokja thought of the nights he spent up, looking over textbooks and painstakingly taking notes. That promise for ice cream. Memories that grated against his heart, too bright for the story Kim Dokja had found himself within. Perhaps they were better removed. Without them, the story would resume its righteous path, a lonely and utterly boring existence, accompanied only by a painful story of someone more miserable than Kim Dojka.

He picked up his notebook from his schoolbag. He didn’t know why he held onto it. His sketches and notes were all faded and the pages were either missing or torn. All that remained were relics of that foolish hope, ridiculous study notes etched darkly onto the paper, as if pressing harder would make them matter more. It was funny, how no matter how hard he pressed, they had all been washed away the same.

Kim Dokja’s hand trembled, curling around the pages. Then, he silently tore the notes he’d taken out, crumpling them into a ball and hurling it away. The action made his head spin and Kim Dokja leaned back onto the bench, willing the dizziness to fade.

When it didn’t, he closed his eyes. It was a good thing he still wore his winter uniform—without it, he knew he’d freeze to death. 

Maybe Song Minwoo was right.

Kim Dokja, the lonely child. Kim Dokja, the reader. Why had he ever considered being anything else, when that wasn’t the direction his story was meant to flow in? 

Too exhausted to move, Kim Dokja didn’t bother to open his eyes again.

—

He dreamed again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that, lately. This time, he found himself at the same playground, the blue fingers of night pulling back the cover of daylight to reveal a body of stars.

As he stared at the sky, the stars flickering in and out of sight, he heard something—no, someone scream.

“H-hyung?!”

Kim Dokja tilted his head downwards, staring at a brown-haired boy. Lee Gilyoung sniffled, roughly wiping snot off his nose, and grabbed Kim Dokja’s arm. But try as he might, Kim Dokja couldn’t move or open his mouth to speak to the boy.

“Is that you? Seriously? Hyung, I’m not dreaming?”

Kim Dokja almost wanted to laugh, because he certainly was dreaming. How could the kids be here? This dream was already too good to be true. He could hardly move, however, and no sound came out

“Lee Gilyoung I already told you that not every high school boy you see is ahj—” Shin Yoosung stopped in her tracks, her eyes comically wide. “ Ahjussi?! ”

With great effort, Kim Dokja blinked, willing something to come out. “Hi,” he croaked.

Panic dawned on both of the kids’ faces. “Hyung, why do you sound like there’s a frog in your mouth? We can get it out if you need, I learned this thing the other day—”

Shin Yoosung stepped violently on Lee Gilyoung’s foot. “No, look at his face, you idiot!”

“Huh?” Lee Gilyoung said, but squinted at Kim Dokja’s face anyway. “Hyung, your face is really pale. Hey, are you sweating? You can take off the sweater, it’s summer… we just want you to be comfortable—”

Finally, Shin Yoosung seemed to have lost her patience. “He’s sick! Look! He’s shivering, even though he’s wearing that dumb sweater, and he’s not talking to us!”

“Hyung’s sick?! I thought he wasn’t talking to us because he got mad at us.”

Kim Dokja wanted to vehemently disagree, but the only thing he could manage was a slight tremble of his head. He tried to say “I’m fine,” but his lips merely parted before closing. His body had betrayed him.

“Ahjussi..” Shin Yoosung frowned, trailing off. “Well, either way, he’s sick and he ended up here.”

For a dream in a playground, it was awfully uncomfortable. He felt as if he were sitting in a frozen void, ice permeating into his skin and seeping to his heart.

His head throbbed. He tried to keep his vision clear, but the kids sounded as if they were underwater. Kim Dokja saw Shin Yoosung shouting something. Lee Gilyoung’s eyes widened, and then he was running off. Instead of running off with him, however, Shin Yoosung stayed by his side, climbing up onto the bench next to him. 

She seemed to be saying something, wistfully sighing. Somehow, Kim Dokja felt like he was looking at someone much older than 9. Shin Yoosung’s eyes brimmed with a sad, faraway look, like she was gazing at something unreachable.

Abruptly, Shin Yoosung grabbed his hand. She seemed to want to tell him something important, but Kim Dokja had already lost sight of the world around him.

—

“What is this fool doing here, of all places?” A rough voice sounded.

“I don’t know, emo bastard, but you better help him out or I’ll—” A young boy, fierce despite his age. He knew this boy, he was certain.

“Be nice!” Someone scolded. It sounded like… Kim Dokja couldn’t place it. “Please, can you help ahjussi out? We don’t know what to do, it’s getting dark and…”

“Don’t look at me like that, bastard. How can you make such a beautiful girl like myself do the work of carrying him?” This one’s voice was haughty and sharp. Why were all the voices so deeply familiar?

“That’s right, noona, keep telling him!” 

Numerous voices faded in and out. Kim Dokja’s eyelids were sealed—even if he wanted to open them, it felt as if they were too burdened to shift. Instead he stayed in that darkness, surrounded by the swirl of arguing voices. It reminded him of when he first woke up in the hospital, back then.

“I’m telling you, it’s not our fault! In his school, he…!”

“His aunt and uncle left him here. They didn’t stay.”

“Hey, look at me, can you hear me?”

The bench reminded him of the hospital bed, its wiry frame digging into his back, the cold air settling on top of him as the door closed, leaving him alone.

But here, the voices had not left. They drifted over him, high and low, like planets revolving about. He could almost place the names, the people whose voices those belonged to, but each time he drew close to the answer, it was swept out of his grasp. It was frustrating. His brain hurt from thinking so hard.

“Listen, no matter what, we can’t leave ahjussi here, okay? I didn’t go to the trouble of getting you guys to come here just to leave him!”

“Hey, I was the one who ran to get them!”

“Kids, stop arguing.” Footsteps circled around next to him, and Kim Dokja felt the back of a hand rest on the top of his head. It was blissfully cool. “Okay, how about you carry him halfway and I carry him the rest, since you’re clearly too frail to carry him the wh—”

“Do you think provoking me will make me listen to your demands? I’m not so foolish that—”

“The kids weren’t even looking for me, they were looking for you . My being here is actually already a bonus present.”

“No one asked for you to tag along.”

“GUYS!” The young girl’s voice shouted, stilling everyone into silence. Then, much softer, she continued, “can’t you guys tell your bickering is disturbing ahjussi?”

After a moment, there was more frantic murmuring, this time too quiet for Kim to hear. He wondered if he should move. Why were they all here, anyway?

I must still be dreaming. He wished the dream was more comfortable. He could do without the pounding behind his eyes or the way his body couldn’t choose between hot or cold.

He felt something solid lift him up and ungraciously put him over someone’s… back? Meanwhile, another set of hands reached to steady him when his head lolled to the side. The action was accompanied by more mumbling, and Kim Dokja caught a few curse words. Was he being kidnapped?

It didn’t matter. The voices had stopped, replaced by only the occasional shuffling and grunting. Was he moving? Questions bubbled inside Kim Dokja, but dissolved soon enough as the scrap of consciousness he’d found faded away in the absence of their voices.

It was warm.

Perhaps, the next time he woke up from this long dream, he’d be able to remember the names of the people around him.

Chapter Text

The hospital was white. Like an eerie jail of ice, pure white cascaded down every wall, every window, every slice of fabric. It was in this blank prison that the boy lay, the air stagnant, silence rotting in every corner. 

Save for the incessant beeping of the monitor and the dripping IV stand, the boy was alone. He studied the linoleum ceiling for what must've been the thousandth time, recalling the way his relatives had screamed at the doctors, blaming the scars and the bruises on the very boy who bore them. 

And then they were gone, and the boy was left alone. So he filled the empty chairs and walls with his favorite characters—the cheeky girl with a sword, the kind man with a shield, the mighty protagonist who had lived hundreds of lifetimes. As the boy lay, half awake, half dreaming, he saw colors painting the white walls—waves of blue, smoldering steel, piercing gold.

In those blurry gaps between fiction and reality, the boy thought that perhaps this prison wasn't so blank after all.

—

Kim Dokja had a long dream.

"He's looking better."

"Did you replace the towels for his fever?"

In it, voices came and went, like ghosts, drifting this way and that.

"Hyung... um..."

Sometimes, he would see the faces of Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung, perched by his side. He'd feel a hand on his head, or someone poking his cheek. Kim Dokja often thought that if this truly was a dream, he'd rather not wake up. His heart, which had been stretched and beaten into a contorted mess, finally felt at ease. With the vague logic that accompanied all dreamers, Kim Dokja reasoned that they wouldn’t hurt him, even if he couldn't recognize them.

In his mind, he heard a distant voice, gentle and humming. It was familiar, yet distant—as if he were recalling a memory he should not possess.

"Take a break, Dokja-ssi."

For once, Kim Dokja decided to listen to that voice, and fell into the dark depths of sleep.

—

"Ah, noona!" Lee Gilyoung complained. "Do I have to go? I want to stay with Dokja-hyung!"

"You've been with him long enough." Lee Jihye crossed her arms.

"Shin Yoosung got to sit with him for four hours! I was only there for three!"

Lee Jihye dug some honey-flavored candy out of her hoodie pocket and tossed it at the younger boy. "Your parents are going to get mad at me if you don't go home soon. Besides, I'm sure Dokja-ahjussi will still be here later, considering the state he's in."

"But..."

"Nope! We're going."

There was shuffling and a door gently clicking shut. After a long moment, Kim Dokja opened his eyes, having awoken to their conversation a few minutes ago but too nervous to confront them. Why were Lee Gilyoung and Lee Jihye here? And Shin Yoosung, as well?

He was in a rather well-furnished guest room. The mattress he was laying on seemed to be made of feathers, and he relished how soft it was. Under the covers, he was still wearing his school uniform. 

Feeling uncomfortably hot, he threw the blanket off and sat up. His head immediately began throbbing and he groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. It was as if fire was burning him from within. Kim Dokja wondered if he could cook something on his forehead, considering how hot it was. On cue, his stomach grumbled.

There was a faint buzz in his head, but Kim Dokja ignored it in favor of looking around. Beside the bed was a nightstand, on which a bowl of porridge and a spoon sat. It felt somewhat cold to the touch, as if it had been cooling off for a while. Kim Dokja wondered who it was for, then read the sticky note stuck to the table beside it.

Eat it to recover faster. 

The crude, to-the-point handwriting struck Kim Dokja as oddly familiar, but with his thoughts in a jumble and the empty void in his stomach, he didn't bother to parse through his memories. He slowly picked up the bowl, spooning the porridge into his mouth. It was a little cold, but the taste and texture were light and didn't make him feel like puking. 

After finishing the porridge, Kim Dokja set the bowl down onto the nightstand with a clink. Eating had returned some energy to him, so he took the chance to stand up and look around. In all honesty, he had no clue as to where he was. Being moved to an unknown location without his input was probably considered kidnapping, but the bed was comfortable and the porridge satisfying. By Kim Dokja’s standards, getting kidnapped might be the best thing to have happened to him recently.

As he began wondering how exactly he had been transported here, Kim Dokja randomly felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. Suddenly, chills zapped through his body, and Kim Dokja clambered back to the bed, burying himself under the covers. So much for feeling energized.

With not much choice, Kim Dokja rested his head on the pillow, staring at the ceiling and hoping the shivers would fade away. By the time they had, his eyes had already fallen shut.

—

The next time Kim Dokja awoke, it was to something bitter spreading inside his mouth. Kim Dokja wrinkled his nose in disgust, his tongue rejecting the foul taste.

"Huh? Wait, it looks like he's awake."

"Took him long enough!"

Kim Dokja blearily forced his eyes open to see none other than Han Sooyoung bending over him, a small bottle of medicine in hand. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

He struggled to prop himself up in lieu of a response. Lee Jihye, who was sitting nearby, lent him a hand. 

"I'm... fine." Kim Dokja said, bewildered. Why were Han Sooyoung and Lee Jihye here? Whose house was this? And then, the porridge... 

Feeling that his right wrist was getting numb, he looked over to see a horrifying sight. All the complicated feelings he held were deftly trumped by sheer terror.

"You had an incredibly high fever, and your body is thin like you never eat. What is the matter with your living habits?" Yoo Jonghyuk had Kim Dokja’s wrist in a death grip. 

Something about this situation felt familiar. Perhaps he was still dreaming?

"It's a miracle you managed to finish the exam week without dying in the middle." Yoo Jonghyuk scowled, observing Kim Dokja’s condition.

"... Is that so." Kim Dokja responded dryly. His wrist felt like it was about to pop under the pressure.

Finally, Yoo Jonghyuk released Kim Dokja's poor arm. "If you had taken better care of yourself, we wouldn't be in this situation." Without another word, Yoo Jonghyuk stood up and strode away, closing the door behind him.

Lee Jihye's eyes trailed after Yoo Jonghyuk, and she turned to Kim Dokja. "My Master's pretty cool, right?"

“Not really.” Han Sooyoung yawned, putting the medicine bottle down.

Ignoring her, Lee Jihye continued. "He actually made you porridge and brought over medicine for you!”

.... That guy, of all people?

Kim Dokja stared at the closed door. No matter how hard he thought about it…

“Anyone with half a heart would help out if they saw you like that back then.” Han Sooyoung muttered.

“Like what?”

“Apparently you were passed out on the playground bench, looking like you were about to cross over to the other side.” Lee Jihye stood up, tightening her ponytail as she spoke. “Anyway, I have to go now, but I’ll tell the others that you woke up. Bye, Dokja-ahjussi, Sooyoung-unnie!”

With a salute, Lee Jihye walked out the door, leaving Han Sooyoung and Kim Dokja alone in the room.

“So, I’m sure you’re extremely confused.” Han Sooyoung cleared her throat. “Actually, Yoo Jonghyuk and I were walking back from the exams when Lee Gilyoung came up to us, saying they found a dead body in the playground or something.”

“... And that dead body was me.”

“Yep!” Han Sooyoung clapped her hands together.

Kim Dokja decided that he missed being so sick he couldn’t process anything. 

“Leaving you there would’ve stained our conscience, but we didn’t know where you live, so we brought you to my house.”

“Your parents are okay with that?”

“Not like they’re at home enough for their opinion to matter.” Han Sooyoung smirked, but there was something bitter about it. “Anyway, they’re abroad right now like usual. They probably won’t even notice.”

Then, Kim Dokja started. “How long have I been here?”

Han Sooyoung shrugged. “At least a day. Maybe a bit more.”

Panic surged in Kim Dokja’s chest. “I need to go back—”

“To your loving aunt and uncle, I’m sure.” Han Sooyoung yawned sarcastically.

Kim Dokja froze, his blood chilling. “How do you know—”

Han Sooyoung’s mouth clamped shut. Then, she stared at her own hands, her brow wrinkling in confusion. “I—” She blinked. “Huh. I don’t know, lucky guess?”

As Kim Dokja calmed down, he realized it was a simple conclusion that anyone could reach if they heard the rumors. But the way she said it, as if she had a personal vendetta against them.. “Why did you refer to them like that?”

“I’ve seen you beat up at school and take your exams while shivering and clearly sick. I don’t think any self-respecting people would let someone they’re supposed to be taking care of live like that.”

Somehow, the way Han Sooyoung was currently regarding him reminded Kim Dokja of Yoo Jonghyuk’s stormy expression earlier. It was odd, how similar those two could be sometimes for all their differences.

In the end, Han Sooyoung was right. Kim Dokja’s relatives had never wanted to take him in. What was the first thing they had said to him, when he had been discharged from the hospital?

Ah, that was right. 

“Insolent brat. Why didn’t you think about the consequences of your actions? First the rumors, and now this damn hospital bill…”

Of course Kim Dokja hadn’t thought about the consequences of his actions. There weren’t supposed to be any consequences, to begin with. He was supposed to be dead.

“We’re already doing so much for you, and yet you continue to be ungrateful.”

It wasn’t as if Kim Dokja had chosen to be there. The truth had been clear, sharp under the bright hospital lights—he was nothing but gangly limbs and a meandering heart, crushed up to fit in a world with no room for him.

“What are you thinking about again?” Han Sooyoung muttered, frustrated. Kim Dokja stared vacantly at her. Seeing his eyes, she scratched her head. “I mean, if you want to go back to your house that bad, go ahead. But if you want to stay, that’s fine, too.”

“... I don’t want to be a burden.” Kim Dokja mumbled, his voice raw.

Han Sooyoung clicked her tongue, irritated. “What—you idiot, we basically kidnapped you and forced you to be here. Isn’t it a bit late to act polite?”

“Taking care of me was probably a lot of trouble.” Kim Dokja continued.

“Honestly, I don’t think any of us thought that.” At her words, Kim Dokja’s gaze snapped up. Han Sooyoung’s eyes flickered, something bright yet sad. “After all, it’s you.”

Kim Dokja kneaded his hands into the blanket, his heart constricting. It’s me? What—

“Don’t get me wrong. I mean, you’re probably the most pathetic guy I know.” And there it was, the Han Sooyoung he knew. “Helping you out is like donating to charity.”

With a choked laugh, Kim Dokja released his grip on the blanket. He didn’t get it, he really didn’t. Even so, he still found himself asking, “... can I stay here for one more night?”

And even though none of it made sense, even though this contradicted everything he had tried to follow up until now, he felt something lift off his shoulders when Han Sooyoung said yes.

—

The next morning, Kim Dokja realized he had forgotten something important. This was what led to him standing in what appeared to be a living room, completely disoriented, looking for Han Sooyoung.

Just as he was about to give up hope, the very girl he was searching for stepped into the living room, her hair a mess. Han Sooyoung yawned, blinking sleep away from her eyes, saw Kim Dokja, and did a double take. “What—why are you—”

“Don’t we have school?!”  Kim Dokja blurted.

Han Sooyoung squinted at him. “No, of course not. Summer break started after exams, remember?” 

“Oh.”

They stood awkwardly in silence, when Han Sooyoung’s stomach rumbled. Kim Dokja resisted the urge to laugh at her, when his stomach also started complaining. Rather than showing him the same respect, Han Sooyoung snorted.

“What?” Kim Dokja muttered, embarrassed. “You also—”

“Well, that’s our cue for lunch.”

“Isn’t it morning?” Kim Dokja frowned.

“No, you dumbass, look at the clock.” Han Sooyoung gestured to the wall behind Kim Dokja and he spun around. 1:04 PM .

“I thought—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure the guy who’s been passed out for the past two days has a perfect sense of time. Anyway, since you’re well enough to walk around, you can handle my cooking.”

“No porridge?” Kim Dokja wondered aloud.

Han Sooyoung sneered at him. “What, do you think Yoo Jonghyuk is my personal chef?”

“I—oh.” Kim Dokja had forgotten who the source of the porridge was.

“Is ‘oh’ your favorite word or something?” Han Sooyoung yawned again. “Anyway, I don’t blame you. That bastard’s cooking is the only thing he has going for him.”

“I trust your cooking.” Kim Dokja insisted.

By the time he managed to cram whatever abomination Han Sooyoung had created down his gullet, Kim Dokja decided to never trust in her again. 

“Do you… cook…. often?” Kim Dokja said, his insides practically gurgling.

Han Sooyoung cheerfully put another burned…. thing (Kim Dokja couldn’t figure out any of the ingredients she had used) in her mouth. “Actually, I usually jut eat instant noodles or order take out. I thought it would be fun to try cooking today since you’re up for once.” Suddenly, she grinned. “What, do you want me to cook more?”

“Are you saying… I didn’t.. have to go through this?” Kim Dokja stammered weakly.

“What, you didn’t like it? Damn, aren’t you ungrateful.” Han Sooyoung put more of… whatever that was into her mouth. As she chewed, Kim Dokja was pretty sure he heard something crack.

Ungrateful . Kim Dokja rolled that word around, tasted the way it felt on his tongue, bitter and crass. “... There’s no way you’re actually enjoying that,” Kim Dokja accused, watching Han Sooyoung shovel more of the mystery substance into her mouth.

“Well, it’s just like writing. You’ve got to experience your own product if you want to make something better next time!” Saying this, Han Sooyoung grabbed a napkin and spat violently into it, balling it up in her fist and lobbing it into the trash can.

“You write?” Kim Dokja exclaimed.

“Naturally.” 

“... I hope it’s nothing like your cooking.”

Han Sooyoung cracked her knuckles. “Insult my cooking if you want, but I take pride in my writing, so you’d better prepare yoursel—”

The doorbell rang, cutting her off. With a sigh, she stood up, traipsing towards the front door, weaving through the numerous rooms in her massive house. Kim Dokja followed behind, trying not to get lost.

Han Sooyoung swung open the door. “.... Yoo Sangah.”

“Han Sooyoung-ssi.” Yoo Sangah greeted, before she caught sight of Kim Dokja. “Oh, and Dokja-ssi! I heard about your situation, are you feeling better?”

The sight of Yoo Sangah was refreshing, but Kim Dokja couldn’t help the guilt that accompanied it. “Yoo Sangah-ssi. I’m sorry about not—”

Yoo Sangah held out a hand. “There’s no need to apologize! If I had known you were ill, I would’ve encouraged you to take a rest.”

“That…”

“Yeah, we had to kidnap this guy and lock him in a room to make that happen.” Han Sooyoung remarked wryly.

“What?!” Yoo Sangah gasped.

Han Sooyoung rolled her eyes. “A joke. Sorry, I forgot that miss model student doesn’t know what those are.”

“I know what a joke is, Han Sooyoung-ssi.” 

“ Congratulations on such an achievement!”

Yoo Sangah closed her eyes and sighed, pinching her forehead between her fingers. After a while, she ignored Han Sooyoung cackling and said, “I just wanted to deliver some tea.” She held out a fancy box, with what looked like herbal tea inside.

“Tea?” Han Sooyoung stopped cackling to narrow her eyes at the box, as if inspecting an unknown specimen. “You know I don’t usually drink this stuff.”

“Herbal tea can soothe nerves and help you relax. In addition, it eases the throat and—”

“I already told you I don’t—”

Yoo Sangah smiled serenely. Han Sooyoung shut her mouth and hurriedly took the package, her face white.

“Weren’t you just saying—” 

Han Sooyoung slapped a hand over Kim Dokja’s mouth. “Actually, I’m sure this guy next to me could use the tea. We’ll gladly take it!”

Yoo Sangah, looking quite pleased, nodded. “And Dokja-ssi, about the exams.”

Dread clawed into Kim Dokja’s throat, and he swallowed. “Yes. About them.”

“There’s no need to look so nervous,” Yoo Sangah chuckled.

Kim Dokja coughed. Was it really so easy to tell? 

“Remediation classes started a few days ago. At our school, if you come to enough remediation classes, you can do retakes at the end.” Yoo Sangah tilted her head. “Since you probably weren’t feeling well when you took the exams initially, I just wanted to let you know of such an option.” As she said this, her gaze slid slowly towards Han Sooyoung.

It was as if Yoo Sangah had brought the sun with her to their doorstep—warmth flowed through Kim Dokja’s body. He opened his mouth to thank her, when Han Sooyoung promptly stepped in front of him.

“Yes, yes, thanks for letting us know! Have a fantastic day, miss student council president!” She chirped, before slamming the door shut.

“I didn’t get to thank her—”

“It’s fine, I thanked her for you.” Han Sooyoung began walking towards the kitchen, the box of herbal teas in her arms.

“Why do you dislike Yoo Sangah so much?” Kim Dokja asked, trailing after her.

“It’s less about me disliking her and more about her disliking me,” Han Sooyoung grumbled. She carefully placed the box down on the counter, dusting her hands off.

“.... What did you do?”

Han Sooyoung clicked her tongue. “I may or may not have bullied some student council members to tears. And then accidentally spilled coffee on some supposedly important documents.”

“How—”

“In my defense, the coffee was supposed to keep me awake and civil, which it did not. I also didn’t know those kids were part of the student council.” Han Sooyoung began opening the box.

“If you knew they were student council members, would you have stopped?” Kim Dokja tried to imagine Han Sooyoung yelling at second and third years. He didn’t have trouble believing that she could reduce some of them to sniveling wrecks—a broad-shouldered gentle giant came to mind.

“Absolutely not.” Han Sooyoung took out a packet labeled Jasmine Tea , turning it around between her fingers. “Brats are brats. I was just trying to find my damn classroom, seriously…”

Kim Dokja recalled Han Sooyoung appearing late on that first day, and snorted. So that was where she had been, harassing innocent people.

“Is something funny?” Han Sooyoung growled.

“Nope.” Kim Dokja felt his lips quirk mischievously as he began stacking their plates from earlier to one side. He forced them down.

“Anyway, then Yoo Sangah had to appear out of nowhere like some superhero and make me look like a villain.” Han Sooyoung said, starting to boil water on the kettle. She opened a cabinet and took out two glass cups.

“What are you doing?”

“Did the fever get your eyes as well? I’m making tea.” 

“Didn’t you say that you don’t drink te—”

“Which flavor do you want?” Han Sooyoung ignored his question.

“Oh, and how did Yoo Sangah hear about my situation? Only you and Yoo Jonghyuk know her, and I don’t think Yoo Jonghyuk would be the type to go tell her about it.”

“I called her. Now tell me what flavor you want.” Han Sooyoung began pouring the water into the cups.

“Didn’t you say you guys don’t get along or something? But you’re drinking the tea she gifted you, and you apparently also call her, which means you have her number-”

With a thud , Han Sooyoung slammed the two cups down on the table. “If you don’t tell me which flavor you want right now, the next thing I’ll be calling is a funeral service.”

“For who?” Kim Dokja flinched as Han Sooyoung directed a terrifying glare at him. “Um, whatever flavor you’re getting.”

“Green tea it is.” Han Sooyoung announced, unceremoniously dumping the tea packets into the cups.

“Thanks.” Kim Dokja said as she pushed a cup towards him. 

The two of them sat in silence for a while, sipping on their tea. Kim Dokja found that the subtle yet sharp flavor of the tea was quite nice, and basked in the warmth for a bit.

“So, earlier you said you were a writer.” Kim Dokja said, trying to seem nonchalant.

“It’s okay, I can tell you’re excited.” Han Sooyoung put her tea down. “I write webnovels.”

Kim Dokja tapped his teacup with a finger, hoping the sound would disguise his heartbeats. “What kind of webnovels?”

Han Sooyoung snickered. “Let’s just say the webnovels I write make enough for me to buy whatever I want.”

“So you’re a popular writer.” Kim Dokja sighed.

“Why do you sound so disappointed?” 

“Nothing!” Kim Dokja thought of tls123, then shook his head. From the way tls123 responded to his comments, there was no way it was Han Sooyoung. tls123 was far nicer. “It’s just… eh, whatever. Tell me more about what you write.”

“Well, my most popular novel right now revolves around powers and special scenarios.”

That was to be expected, since those kinds of novels were incredibly hot right now. Ways of Survival was no exception—although, that didn’t save it from the slew of hate comments back when it had more than one reader.... “What kind of powers?”

“Since it’s in an apocalyptic world, people can get all kinds of useful abilities to survive—like an infinite storage space, or precognition, and other things.”

“I thought you’d have powers like summoning a huge dragon and using ominous chants to cast dark magic,” Kim Dokja said, deadpan.

“The hell? Are you six?” Han Sooyoung made a mortified noise. “I’m not a chuunibyou.”

“But does your novel have that?”

Han Sooyoung spluttered something unintelligible, and Kim Dokja grinned. “Anyway, how close is your novel to completion?”

“I dunno. I think I’ll just write it for as long as I want.” Han Sooyoung downed the rest of her tea.

“You mean you’ll milk it for what it’s worth.”

“No! I’m putting my life and soul into that story!”

“How can you consider it a proper story if you don’t even plan on ending it?” Kim Dokja took another sip of his tea. “I mean, it can go on for years, if you want, but shouldn’t you have some idea of an ending for it?”

“Endings are hard, okay?! They’re the author’s final act—after that, there’s no room to edit or change anything. So it has to be good.” Han Sooyoung crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. “And I personally have no clue what ending my readers want. I feel like they’re arguing over it in the comments every day—no matter what I write, someone’s probably going to get mad.”

“Just give them a happy ending, then.” Kim Dokja thought distantly of Ways of Survival . “Of course, no one likes it when a story has to end, but if it’s a happy ending, then at the very least it’s satisfying, right?”

“Weren’t you the one complaining about clichés a while ago?”

“... Okay, but that was real life. If I care about the characters in a novel, then I’d like for them to all have a happy ending when the time comes.”

“Even if you don’t get to be a part of it?” Han Sooyoung said, watching Kim Dokja carefully. Suddenly, the room felt very cold.

“Well, I…” the words died on Kim Dokja’s tongue, and he paused. It was odd. Somehow, it was difficult to answer Han Sooyoung’s question. So deceptively simple, an easy yes or no, and yet, Kim Dokja’s thoughts had already twisted themselves beyond recognition. Finally, he settled on a response. “I mean, if a story has to end, then of course the reader can’t be part of it.”

After an oddly nerve-wracking pause, Han Sooyoung stretched, breaking the tension. “And that’s why I don’t want to figure out an ending just yet. Where would my readers go if I finished the story?” 

“I don’t know. You can write another one, right?”

“It wouldn’t be the same, though. Different characters, setting, plot, you know how it is.”

“A sequel, then.”

“It’s a webnovel! What’s the point of ending it to begin with if I’m just going to make a sequel?”

She had a point. Kim Dokja frowned, trying to come up with a response. As he pondered in silence, Han Sooyoung began scrolling absentmindedly through her phone, rapidly typing something in.

“Just give up, dumbass. If I don’t want the story to end then it’s not ending.” Han Sooyoung looked up from her phone and smirked. “And even if I do stop writing one day, I sure as hell don’t plan on giving my story such a simple, boring ending like the one you’re talking about.”

Kim Dokja sighed, finishing his tea. “You must be a horrifying writer.”

“Thanks!’ Han Sooyoung beamed, then went back to texting on her phone. “Oh, do you want my account name? Maybe you’ve already seen my works—”

“No thanks, just knowing it was written by you might actually ruin it for me.” Kim Dokja pushed his empty cup to the side.

“Rude.” Han Sooyoung yawned, then put her phone away.

After a few more minutes, the doorbell rang again. Han Sooyoung stood up, pushing her chair in. “They’re finally here.”

“Who?” Kim Dokja asked, turning around in his chair.

“You’ll see,” Han Sooyoung said, walking out of the kitchen. Moments latter, Kim Dokja heard the door creaking open and excited voices. Then, following the sound of feet pattering on the floor, two familiar children burst into the kitchen—Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung.

“Ahjussi!” Shin Yoosung shouted at the same time Lee Gilyoung screamed “Hyung!”

The two of them practically jumped on top of him, and Kim Dokja felt the air leave his lungs. “Hi,” he wheezed.

“Are you two reuniting with your estranged father or something?” Han Sooyoung mused, entering the kitchen after them. 

“How can I be a father if I’m only a high schooler?” Kim Dokja grunted, his voice muffled.

“They say to never judge someone’s age from their appearance. For all we know, you could be several thousand years old.” Han Sooyoung pretended to stroke a nonexistent beard.

Kim Dokja wanted to vehemently refute that statement, but stopped when he saw who was behind her.

Yoo Jonghyuk filed in with Lee Jihye at his side. At the sight of the kids crushing Kim Dokja, Lee Jihye ran over to drag them off him. “Just because he’s not bedridden anymore doesn’t mean he can handle you two jumping on him! You’ll kill him!”

Shin Yoosung immediately stood up, Lee Gilyoung following suit.

“I don’t want to hurt ahjussi!” Saying this, tears started to brim in Shin Yoosung’s eyes, and she balled her hands into fists. 

Kim Dokja raised his hands, not sure what to do. “Yoo… Yoosung-ah, there’s no need to cry, it’s okay, really.”

“Yeah, what are you crying for?” Lee Gilyoung swatted Shin Yoosung. When he saw she was still on the verge of tears, he awkwardly patted her on the back instead, then looked up at Kim Dokja. “Sorry, hyung, we were just really worried about you…”

Kim Dokja remembered the snatches of the conversation he had heard between Lee Jihye and Lee Gilyoung. “Thank you for watching over me,” he said, smiling. 

As Shin Yoosung rubbed her eyes, Lee Gilyoung straightened up, saluting. “Of course! Anytime!”

“Did you know I watched over you longer than Lee Gilyoung?” Shin Yoosung said, proudly, tears gone.

“That’s only ‘cause Jihye-noona wouldn’t let me stay longer,” Lee Gilyoung glowered.

“Hey, I was trying not to get mauled by your parents! If they thought I kidnapped you, it’d be over for me, you know?” Lee Jihye protested.

As the three of them argued, Kim Dokja turned begrudgingly to Yoo Jonghyuk, who in turn caught his eye and simply stared impassively at him.

“Porridge.” Kim Dokja said.

Han Sooyoung burst out laughing while Yoo Jonghyuk frowned. “What?” 

“Wha—uh, the porridge.” Kim Dokja repeated.

“Yeah, and? What’d you think of the porridge?” Han Sooyoung asked, grabbing her sides.

Kim Dokja glared at her, then turned back to Yoo Jonghyuk. “... It was okay.”

“Only okay?” Lee Jihye walked over, Lee Gilyoung whacking her side. She shoved the shorter boy off. “Master’s cooking deserves way higher praise than that!”

“There wasn’t much flavor,” Kim Dokja continued, even though he knew if it had flavor he might’ve thrown up when eating it while he was more ill. Anything to avoid directly calling it good. 

Without a word, Yoo Jonghyuk walked into the kitchen and slammed the door shut behind him.

“... Did I offend him that much?”

Han Sooyoung snapped her fingers. “That bastard is really proud of his cooking, so he’s bound to be a bit sensitive to any criticism.”

“I think you also forgot to thank him for the porridge to begin with.” Lee Jihye plopped down in a chair at the table. “Ahjussi, you really need to be more thankful! Master doesn’t let just anyone eat his food.”

“Didn’t he cook dinner for all of us last time, though?” Shin Yoosung asked, cupping her face in her hands and resting her elbows on the table. “That was fun.”

“Last time?” Kim Dokja echoed.

“Yeah! After we dropped you off in the guest room we all had dinner here.” Lee Gilyoung sidled into the chair next to Shin Yoosung.

Kim Dokja tried to sift through his memories. He remembered voices and being carried on someone’s back. “ All of you were there?!”

“Actually, I only came after because I was supposed to pick up the kids,” Lee Jihye said. “But I’m sure I count as an honorary member of the rescue company, right?”

“ Rescue company? ” Han Sooyoung snorted. “That sounds lame. Am I getting paid by our client, then?”
“Do I look like I can pay you?” Kim Dokja said incredulously.

“Okay. Then I’ll be the boss.”

“Hey, who said you could be the boss?!” Lee Gilyoung crossed his arms.

“Hierarchies are usually based on seniority, so I win.”

“What about ahjussi? You two are in the same grade, right?” Shin Yoosung pointed at Kim Dokja.

Han Sooyoung glowered at Kim Dokja, who simply shrugged in response. “Then we can go based on popular vote!” As she declared this, she saw the two kids. Realization flashed in her eyes and she coughed. “I mean, merit! It’s a meritocracy.”

“Sooyoung-unnie, aren’t leaders supposed to be decisive? You’ve changed your mind three times in the past minute.”

Han Sooyoung stood up, slamming her hands on the table. “We can do it based on exam grades! I aced them, so I—”

Lee Gilyoung stuck his tongue out at Han Sooyoung. “That’s not even fair! Hyung was sick when he took them!”

“How old are you? 8? Are you talking back to me?”

“I’m basically the same height as you!”

“You are not. I could punt you like a bag of expired chips.”

“At least then I’d still be worth more than you.”

“You little—”

“Little what? Huh? Are you gonna fight me? I bet you’d lose.” Lee Gilyoung raised his fists, looking up at Han Sooyoung.

A murderous expression had formed on Han Sooyoung’s face, and she regarded Lee Gilyoung like he was her arch nemesis. Slowly, she squatted down, assuming a fighting stance.

Shin Yoosung giggled into her hand. “Sooyoung-unnie, are you going to fight someone half your age?”

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Lee Jihye cheered.

The two of them looked like particularly angry frogs, squatting and circling each other menacingly. The sight was so ridiculous that Kim Dokja couldn’t help the laughter spilling from his lips. Every time he imagined the two of them as frogs, the laughing worsened, until he was gasping for air and wheezing. 

By the time he recovered enough to stop clinging to the table, he noticed everyone staring at him. “What? Did something happen?”

Han Sooyoung made no sound, simply opening her mouth and closing it. 

It was Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung who broke the silence first, practically hopping up and down. “You smiled!” Lee Gilyoung yelled, pointing at Kim Dokja. “And laughed!” Shin Yoosung added.

Feeling a bit like he was being charged with some sort of crime, Kim Dokja chuckled nervously. “... Is that strange?”

“From you? Yeah!” Shin Yoosung joined in. “Ahjussi, even when we were at the playground, all your smiles looked kind of sad. But that time, when you just laughed—you didn’t look sad at all.”

“What—” Seriously, Kim Dokja adored these two kids. But did they have to say such things so bluntly? And did he really look that sullen all the time?

“You know, I was trying to figure out how to put it, but the kids got it.” Han Sooyoung leaned forward, grinning. “For the first time since I’ve met you, you didn’t look like a deflated air balloon!”

Lee Jihye nodded aggressively, her ponytail bobbing up and down. Kim Dokja’s skin prickled under the weight of their gazes. It was uncomfortable, for sure. The thought of other people watching him closely enough to tell when his mannerisms differed made him shudder.

The more troubling thought, however, was that it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. To exist as more than a shadow in their memories, to have left an imprint deep enough for them to remember—Kim Dokja somehow didn’t despise it as much as he should.

“Anyway, speaking of exams,” Kim Dokja said, doing what he was best at. 

“Ahjussi, you’re still really bad at changing conversation topics.”

“ Anyway, speaking of exams, ” Kim Dokja said, louder. “Han Sooyoung, you said you aced them. Did you even study?”

Han Sooyoung finally sat down across from Kim Dokja. “I wasn’t a bad student! I did skim a few of the textbook chapters and I tried doing a few of the worksheets they gave in class. I ended falling asleep for most of them, though.”

“That’s it.” 

“Well, yeah. I’m not like you and that freak in the kitchen, acting like I’ll die if I’m not making out with a textbook every minute.”

“So you basically didn’t study. And you passed all of the exams that easily?”

Lee Jihye was staring at Han Sooyoung, amazed. “How?”

Han Sooyoung cleared her throat. “Let’s just say there are two kinds of people in the world. One, diligent people who plan everything out in advance and work hard. And then, the beautiful geniuses who live in the moment. Which one do you think I am?”

“The first one.” Kim Dokja said, his eyebrows arched.

“Shut up. The second, obviously!”

“Are you sure you didn’t cheat or something?” 

“Of course not!” Han Sooyoung protested. “I would never cheat.”

Unconvinced, Kim Dokja leaned back against his chair. Han Sooyoung had apparently aced the exams by some means, whether it was her innate genius or her innate conmanship. In contrast, Kim Dokja had brilliantly failed them and needed to take remediation classes.

“I can’t believe you sleep half of class and ace them, and then I study all day and night and bomb.” Kim Dokja said.

“Maybe you should’ve learned from me and slept more,” Han Sooyoung said.

“Hey, I bombed too!” Lee Jihye raised her hand. “The math exam especially.”

“Why are you so proud of that?” Lee Gilyoung asked. 

“Jihye-unnie, you should study more.” Shin Yoosung nudged her.

“Man, like Master like disciple.” Han Sooyoung snickered as Lee Jihye started launching into a series of defenses for Yoo Jonghyuk. Ignoring her, Han Sooyoung checked the clock. “Is that jerk still in the kitchen?”

Lee Gilyoung brightened. “Maybe he fell on his face and died!”

“HEY! You can’t say that kind of stuff about Master!” Lee Jihye growled.

Kim Dokja had not expected Lee Gilyoung to be so venomous towards Yoo Jonghyuk. Or the others, in general. He supposed this was the first time he’d seen him interact with people besides himself and Shin Yoosung, however. “Isn’t he Yoo Mia’s older brother? Why do you not like him?”

“He’s Yoo Mia’s brother. And that’s the only reason we know that emo bastard.” Lee Gilyoung stuck his tongue out.

“I thought he was handsome until he opened his mouth.” Shin Yoosung said cheerily. “We like you a lot more, ahjussi!”

This left Kim Dokja with more questions than answers, but before he could ask anything else, the kitchen door burst open, steam flowing out. Out walked Yoo Jonghyuk, carrying several dishes in his hand. He was surrounded by a heavenly smell and wore a bright pink apron with the bold text, “KISS THE COOK” front and center.

Han Sooyoung laughed so hard Kim Dokja was pretty sure she was going to die from asphyxiation. 

Yoo Jonghyuk set the dishes down, then immediately turned to Han Sooyoung, his face black with fury. “Where’s the apron from last time?” He demanded.

“What apron?” Han Sooyoung tapped her chin, then raised a finger. “Oh, that one! I thought it was getting too old, so I threw it away and got a new one. This one’s pretty good, right? Nice quality, and the design is great.”

Yoo Jonghyuk practically ripped the apron off and flung it at Han Sooyoung, who shrieked and caught the bundle of cloth. 

Beside Kim Dokja, the kids had already started digging into the meal, made of rice, roasted meat and sliced up vegetables. The ingredients were simple, but it was…

“Did you know that Master doesn’t eat food unless he’s the one who made it?” Lee Jihye said. Shin Yoosung swatted at her for eating with her mouth full, and Lee Jihye grumbled something unintelligible.

“Why not?” Kim Dokja said, prodding the rice in front of him. He thought of that failed confession months ago. “Are you afraid of being poisoned?”

“Because it isn’t delicious.” Yoo Jonghyuk said, as if that made sense. 

Han Sooyoung was still wrangling with the apron behind him, but she managed to call out, “Just try the damn food, Kim Dokja!”

“How delicious can the food you make..” Kim Dokja took a bite of a meat skewer.

No. What? What was this—

Lee Jihye grinned, rice stuck on the side of her mouth. “Isn’t it delicious?” 

“... Yes.” Kim Dokja said, forcing the word out. It was more than delicious, actually. Kim Dokja had never tasted food like this in his life. At least, that was what he knew—yet he couldn’t help but feel like this meal felt vaguely familiar. 

Now that he thought about it, didn’t Yoo Jonghyuk in Ways of Survival also possess extraordinary cooking skills? Both of the Yoo Jonghyuk’s Kim Dokja knew shared far too many similarities.

Kim Dokja ruefully took another bite, the flavors mixing satisfyingly on his tongue. Yoo Jonghyuk’s cooking was undeniably spectacular. It practically redefined what ‘food’ meant. Kim Dokja wasn’t sure if he could go back to store-bought kimbap after this. He hated it.

One side of Yoo Jonghyuk’s mouth curled into a smirk, and Kim Dokja swore under his breath. How could a damn high schooler cook like this? Why was Yoo Jonghyuk even going to school if he could just cook for a living? He’d probably make three times whatever Kim Dokja would in some no-name corporate job after a full college education.

There it was, that difference that set the two of them apart. Yoo Jonghyuk could probably do whatever he wanted—he was the protagonist of his own life, the type of guy who could change the world if he so desired. And Kim Dokja was the type of guy who could only live in the shadow of such people.

Kim Dokja finally pushed the food away, ignoring how it sat in front of him, tantalizing and delicious. “I’ll go back to my relatives’ house tomorrow.” 

“Hah?!” Han Sooyoung said, in the middle of raising food to her mouth. “Didn’t I say—”

“I know. And I appreciate it, I really do.” Kim Dokja gripped the fabric on his pants. “But I want to start remediation classes, and..” he paused. “And all my stuff is there. It would be more convenient for both of us.”

“Why do you keep lying?” Yoo Jonghyuk finally spoke. The table fell into silence, and Kim Dokja stared at him, stunned.

“What do you mean?” Kim Dokja said, his hairs on end. “I have no reason to—”

“It’s obvious there’s a different reason. Just a few seconds ago, you were easily joking around with everyone and eating the food. Something changed.”

Gritting his teeth, Kim Dokja stood up. “Ever the perceptive one, aren’t you?”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s eye twitched. “Kim Dokja, stop being so difficult.”

“Difficult?” Kim Dokja smiled coldly. “Who’s being the difficult one here? I’m making a simple request to Han Sooyoung. How does this even relate to you?”

“I’m asking you to be honest.”

“What, just because you can do everything I can’t, that makes you qualified to tell me what to do?” Kim Dokja yelled.

Yoo Jonghyuk, beloved by the school, surrounded by family and friends, perfect at nearly everything. The protagonist, through and through. Envy, admiration, hatred—the feelings Kim Dokja endured could not be explained with a few words. They could come close, but ‘close’ was never enough.

“Do you ever listen, or are you deaf?” Yoo Jonghyuk’s voice rose. “I’m trying to—”

“Okay, you two, shut up. You’re giving me a headache.” Han Sooyoung rubbed her head, sighing. “Kim Dokja, if you really want to go, then go.” She paused, then fixed her gaze intently on him. “But just know my house is always open for guests.”

“Like us?” Lee Jihye piped up. 

“No.” Han Sooyoung yawned, closing her eyes. “Anyway, got it?” She prompted Kim Dokja.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Got it. I’ll leave tomorrow morning.” 

Realizing the atmosphere at the table had become frosty, Kim Dokja nodded awkwardly and decided to return to his room. 

Before he could open the door to his room, however, two pairs of small hands tugged on his shirt. Kim Dokja turned around and looked down. The two kids had followed him from the kitchen.

“Hyung, you can’t leave without saying bye!” Lee Gilyoung pouted.

“Promise you’ll come see us again?” Shin Yoosung pleaded. 

Kim Dokja stared at them, then slowly knelt down. “I… can’t promise anything.” As their expressions wilted, he continued, “but I’ll try.”

The two kids looked at each other, then let go of Kim Dokja’s shirt. “You’d better try your best!” Lee Gilyoung said.

“I will, I will.” 

Shin Yoosung, carefully watching Kim Dokja’s face, brightened. “Ahjussi’s nostrils didn’t get bigger when he said that!”

The two of them high-fived each other, before waving again and running back towards the kitchen.

Kim Dokja sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Seriously.. 

—

The next morning, as he put his shoes on and prepared to leave Han Sooyoung’s house, she leaned against the door, crossing her arms.

“Thanks for helping me out so much,” Kim Dokja nodded.

“No problem.” When Kim Dokja stared at her disbelievingly, she scoffed. “No, seriously. It was no problem.”

“... Right.”

Han Sooyoung tapped her foot, irritated, then leaned forward and lightly punched Kim Dokja on the arm. “Have some more faith in other people. Not everyone’s out to get you.”

Kim Dokja opened his mouth, appalled. “I never said that.”

“You never do,” Han Sooyoung sighed. “Anyway, just keep what I said in mind.” She yawned, then pushed herself off the door. “Have fun taking remediation classes!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kim Dokja groaned and bid farewell to her, before starting his way to school.

The building was the same as he remembered, save for the humid embrace of summer clinging to the air as he walked in.

Since Kim Dokja had missed a few classes, when he walked into the classroom, most of the seats were already full. He scanned the room for an empty seat, and found one in the back. After seeing who was in the desk next to it, Kim Dokja whipped his head around and looked for other options. But it really was the only empty seat in the classroom this time, to Kim Dokja’s dismay.

This was the only explanation as to why he was now sitting next to Yoo Jonghyuk , listening to the teacher drill something in about an obscure grammar rule. The fact that Kim Dokja was stuck in such a predicament meant one thing: Yoo Jonghyuk had failed the exams.

Kim Dokja supposed it made sense, blanching at the memory of Yoo Jonghyuk’s miserable practice test scores. 

The air between them was tense, fraught with their unfinished argument. Kim Dokja already knew most of what the teacher was saying, so he leaned back in his chair and tried to relax, to no avail due to who was next to him.

Yoo Jonghyuk scribbled something onto his page and crossed it out with a murderous scowl. Kim Dokja looked at his page out of the corner of his eye, wondering why he was so frustrated. Then, he realized the boy had been on the same question for the past four minutes.

Kim Dokja snorted without meaning to. 

“... Shut up, unless you want to die.” Yoo Jonghyuk growled, his eyes not leaving the page.

Kim Dokja thought for a moment, then took his pencil and wrote the correct answer on the Yoo Jonghyuk’s notebook. Before Yoo Jonghyuk could bite his arm off, Kim Dokja quickly withdrew it and looked away like nothing happened.

There was a brief moment of silence, and Kim Dokja thought he’d gotten away with it. Perhaps Yoo Jonghyuk could let go of his ego for once and—

“I didn’t ask for your help.” Yoo Jonghyuk angrily whispered. 

“You don’t ask anyone for help.” Kim Dokja found himself retorting. Then he realized what he said and clamped his mouth shut. Besides, he hadn’t been helping Yoo Jonghyuk out of the good of his heart—he just wanted to stop watching Yoo Jonghyuk have a breakdown over possibly one of the simplest grammar questions he’d ever seen.

“What?” Yoo Jonghyuk’s grip on his pencil tightened.

“If you asked for help earlier, you probably would’ve passed the exams.” Kim Dokja continued, emboldened by how stupid the other boy was being.

Yoo Jonghyuk breathed in deeply, then slowly exhaled. His knuckles were pure white around his pencil. Kim Dokja suspected the boy was genuinely trying not to strangle him right now, and felt somewhat uneasy, edging away.

“I wonder if you even hear yourself speak, sometimes.” Yoo Jonghyuk finally said.

Yoo Jonghyuk had asked him something like that yesterday, at Han Sooyoung’s house. Kim Dokja frowned. “What are you talking about? You’re the one who—”

“Would you two like to leave the classroom?” The teacher’s voice boomed. Afterwards, the two of them resumed their own things—Yoo Jonghyuk now pretending to be disinterested (though Kim Dokja could see him still frantically scribbling notes beneath the desk) and Kim Dokja legitimately being disinterested.

For him, the remediation class was, honestly, quite easy. Surprisingly, it turned out proper sleep and food made quite the difference. Kim Dokja ended up staring at the window for most of the class, watching the way the emerald green trees swayed under the summer sky. 

While the teacher’s voice meandered through the classroom, Kim Dokja thought about the odd assortment of individuals that had shouldered their way into his life. Time and time again, like the ocean, he had pushed them away. And yet, like the ocean, they unceasingly came back.

As Yoo Jonghyuk growled something under his breath, Kim Dokja thought of the map, the paper having nearly dissolved, still crumpled into a ball in his schoolbag. In the end, he really was always in debt to Yoo Jonghyuk—whether it was the student sitting next to him or the protagonist in Ways of Survival . 

But what could he do about it? Unlike Yoo Jonghyuk, he couldn’t cook well or stand his ground or draw others in with his looks. Kim Dokja knew it was a fruitless endeavor, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed that the tutoring session hadn’t been remotely effective. It was unreasonable, but so was he.

Perhaps there would always be that wall, with the cold, angry Yoo Jonghyuk standing on one side, and the Kim Dokja who simply couldn’t understand him on the other. 

Not wanting to dwell further on that topic, he propped up his book in front of him, laid his head on his desk, and went to sleep. 

—

“Oi, idiot, wake up.” 

Kim Dokja grumbled, waking up to a severe pain in his neck and back. Clearly, he had chosen the wrong position to fall asleep in.

He lifted his head up, rubbing his eyes. “... Han Sooyoung? Why are you here?”

“To laugh at the idiots who failed their exams, obviously!” Han Sooyoung grinned, a lollipop hanging out the side of her mouth.

Kim Dokja stood up, noticing Yoo Jonghyuk was still there, his schoolbag already packed. Realizing the classroom was already mostly empty, Kim Dokja hurriedly jammed his belongings into his bag.

As he packed, Han Sooyoung fished a lollipop out of her pocket. She stared at it, then at Kim Dokja. Gingerly, as if a bit nervous, she held it out to him. “Want a lollipop?”

Slowly, Kim Dokja picked up the lollipop. He examined the wrapper, turning the little candy around. After a long moment, he carefully slipped the lollipop in his pocket.

“That costs money, by the way,” Han Sooyoung said. But her words were light, with no real weight behind them.

Kim Dokja slowly took the lollipop back out of his pocket, to which Han Sooyoung responded by slapping his wrist. 

“What was that for?!” He winced, dropping the lollipop back in.

“Good. You should eat it. They’re pretty delicious,” Han Sooyoung said, dodging his question.

“Are they as good as that guy’s cook—” Kim Dokja cut himself off. That was right, who cared about—

“That guy’s cooking? Hmm. I think it puts up a good fight,” Han Sooyoung easily finished his sentence for him. Yoo Jonghyuk raised an eyebrow in response, but nothing more.

Kim Dokja had been thinking this for a while now, but these two, for all their bickering, got along surprisingly well. Perhaps his theory that they were secretly together actually held water?

Han Sooyoung looked between Kim Dokja and Yoo Jonghyuk. “Hmm, Yoo Jonghyuk, don’t you have something to say to Kim Dokja?”

“Why are you bringing this up now.” Yoo Jonghyuk muttered. With a long-suffering sigh, he turned to face Kim Dokja.

Kim Dokja’s heart pounded. Was Yoo Jonghyuk going to kill him? Maybe that stunt earlier with the grammar question had been too much. Had he been in cohorts with Han Sooyoung all along, and everything that had happened was just part of a scheme to—

“... I’m not trying to hurt you.” Yoo Jonghyuk sighed, exasperated. “Just listen for once, you fool.”

What was it that Han Sooyoung had said? Have some more faith in other people , or whatever that meant. Perhaps ‘other people’ included Yoo Jonghyuk. “... Okay.”

Yoo Jonghyuk closed his eyes, opened them, and then—

“Thank you.” It was quiet, so quiet that had anyone not bothered to listen carefully it may as well not have existed. But it did not change the fact that the words were there, hanging in the air, ringing long after the speaker had grown silent.

With a truly Herculean effort, Kim Dokja closed his gaping mouth. Even Han Sooyoung seemed stunned; she understood this was simply not something the boy said often—or at all. 

Finally, Kim Dokja recovered enough to speak. “Why?”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s scowl had returned, and his face looked like it usually did—vaguely constipated. “Are you trying to get me to boost your ego by telling you?”

“I think he’s genuinely confused,” Han Sooyoung remarked, waving her lollipop in a circle at Kim Dokja’s face.

“...” Yoo Jonghyuk clenched his fists. “For giving me that bread that day. For tutoring me in Korean even when it was a lost cause. For giving me the headache medicine before exams.” Then, Yoo Jonghyuk clamped his mouth shut, looking at Kim Dokja like he was prepared to commit manslaughter if Kim Dokja breathed wrong. 

“Wh—”

“And…” Yoo Jonghyuk’s scowl deepened. “Back then, when I said you were weak.”

Kim Dokja bit his lip, digging his nails into his palm.

“I meant that you...” Yoo Jonghyuk crossed his arms, searching for his next words. “Shouldn’t give up so easily.”

“Ah. I see. Hm.” Kim Dokja stammered, the picture of eloquence. Did Yoo Jonghyuk normally talk this much? 

“Is that all you have to—” Yoo Jonghyuk began.

“Well, I’m going now! Good talk!” Kim Dokja said cheerily, and then did what he did best when confronted with the unknown: run away.

Han Sooyoung looked out the door where Kim Dokja had just disappeared, then back at Yoo Jonghyuk. Slowly, she started clapping.

“Don’t say anything.” Yoo Jonghyuk ground out through his teeth, his head turned away. 

“But I wanted to congratulate you on learning some more words besides ‘I’ll kill you’ and ‘you’re weak’!”

Yoo Jonghyuk made a disgruntled noise in his throat. “I’ll kill you.”

Han Sooyoung pulled out another lollipop from her pocket, trying not to snicker. “Baby steps, as they say.” 

— 

“You’re back.” Kim Dokja’s aunt stood at the top of the stairwell, glowering down at him.

“Yes.”

“Don’t make any trouble,” his aunt said. “We don’t want to have to clean up after you again.” Then she disappeared into her room, and Kim Dokja was left looking up at no one. 

In the attic, Kim Dokja sat on his bed. Or, rather, his creaky mattress that was supposed to qualify as a bed. It was pitch dark, and his phone was charging next to him on the ground, so he had nothing to do. He absentmindedly felt the lollipop still in his pocket and tugged it out. Kim Dokja stared at the wrapper, before hesitantly unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth.

He wrinkled his nose. It tasted sour. Like lemons.

But he didn’t spit it out, thinking of snarky comebacks and a permanent scowl. As he sat in the dark, his mind wandered further: to warm honey eyes, fiery justice, and an awkward silhouette crouched over a desk. To little hands and baseball caps and tomato-flavored popsicles. All of them were things that he knew not to trust, that he knew would disappear like a mirage the moment he reached out, like a reflection flickering on water.

As he continued sucking on the lollipop, he began to think it tasted a bit sweet.

None of it made sense. It was a sea of contradictions: kindness intertwined with rough words and bright stars woven into a pitch-black tapestry. It was an error, a beautifully dangerous error that should not be occurring within the story of Kim Dokja’s tragic, boring life.

Even so, something burned in Kim Dokja’s heart, uncertain yet warm. It came without obligations, without reason or rhyme—and now that he thought about it, perhaps it had always been there, even as he ran away, time and time again.

Kim Dokja didn’t want to be a coward anymore. Next time, he swore, he wouldn’t run away. Very, very carefully, he cupped his hands around it and hoped. 

Chapter Text

There had been a time, once. When the boy had sat at the old table in their apartment next to his mother, the small candle on the cake before him tinting the walls a soft gold.

It had been his birthday, and his father had gone out to drink again. In the peace that befell his absence, the boy’s mother had proudly presented a small cake she’d baked in secret.

Chocolate or vanilla, sweet or plain—the boy couldn’t remember the exact details. All he could remember was his mother’s smile, worn around the edges, but warm nonetheless. The cake tasted like patchwork love, sewn together by sheer will and a beating heart. 

It was a flavor the boy desperately held onto, even when his mother was no longer there to bake him cakes anymore.

—

As Kim Dokja stepped through familiar wooden doors for another remediation class, he steeled himself to meet Yoo Jonghyuk. The other boy had apologized yesterday, as constipated as he was, and Kim Dokja had promised to himself that he would try harder to befriend him.

So here he was, fiddling with his pencil during class, gaze darting to Yoo Jonghyuk every now and then, wondering if he should be trying to talk to his enemy-turned-potential-friend or not. 

An agonizing amount of time passed like this until Yoo Jonghyuk abruptly stopped taking notes. He huffed and scribbled something down on a sheet of paper, before flinging it across the desk at Kim Dokja.

What do you want.

The handwriting was atrocious. Kim Dokja could hardly read it.

Nothing. But your handwriting is really ugly

Yoo Jonghyuk scowled and wrote a response, practically driving his pencil through the paper.

I’m busy. Stop disturbing me.

It took Kim Dokja another few seconds to decipher the mystery text that was Yoo Jonghyuk’s handwriting. He treated it like a new language, connecting this weird noodle to that character and so forth.

Kim Dokja started writing another snarky note, then erased it, realizing this wasn’t a very good way to befriend someone. 

Okay, sorry, but if you need help let me know

My handwriting is fine.

I was talking about the remediation classes.

Yoo Jonghyuk stared, his gaze drilling holes into the page. Eons passed, stars exploded, and a new universe was born before he finally turned and nodded curtly. It was the slightest tilt of his head, hardly anything.

Kim Dokja considered it a landslide victory. All in all, his day was going fantastically.

—

At least, that was until Kim Dokja found himself inside a van he definitely hadn’t entered by choice.

He blinked, still trying to process what had happened. He had been walking home alone from remediation classes when a white van had pulled up next to him. The door had opened and a creepy, pale hand had reached out from the darkness, grabbing his shoulder and—

“Han Sooyoung?” Kim Dokja yelled, standing up in his seat and promptly hitting his head on the ceiling.

“Yes, it’s me.” Han Sooyoung yawned, watching Kim Dokja flop back down in his seat, gripping his head. “Don’t worry, we aren’t committing any crimes. Unfortunately.”

“What do you mean, unfortuna—”

“Hi, hyung!” A familiar voice shouted. Kim Dokja craned his neck around and met three bright pairs of eyes: Lee Gilyoung, Yoo Mia, and Shin Yoosung sat in the back of the van, practically bouncing in their seats.

“Hello, everyone.” Kim Dokja flashed them a warm smile, before whipping back around. “Han Sooyoung, how do you know them? ... More importantly, why are you kidnapping children?!”

“I already said we aren’t committing any crimes!” Han Sooyoung crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat. “If you don’t trust me, go ask our driver!”

Kim Dokja glanced at the front. Honey-brown hair and a familiar fragrance— “Yoo Sangah-ssi?”

“Oh, hello, Dokja-ssi! It’s kind of you to join us today.” Yoo Sangah said, upbeat.

Lee Gilyoung, Shin Yoosung, Yoo Mia, Han Sooyoung, and Yoo Sangah, all in the same place. “... What’s happening?”

“It’s my brother’s birthday party!” Yoo Mia shouted from the back.

“Your bro—Yoo Jonghyuk?” Kim Dokja coughed. “Today is his birthday?!”

“Obviously. We’re going to an amusement park!”

“Sangah-ssi, did you arrange this?” Kim Dokja peered nervously at the girl.

“Actually, Yoo Mia approached me the other day, saying she wanted to take her brother to the amusement park for his birthday, but needed a driver since she couldn’t do so herself.”

“Stupid driving laws.” Yoo Mia crossed her arms and hunched down in her seat.

“How do you two even know each other?” Han Sooyoung frowned.

The van cruised to a stop, and Yoo Sangah gestured wordlessly to Han Sooyoung, who groaned and opened the van’s door. Moments later, a rather disgruntled Yoo Jonghyuk was sitting in the van.

“Yoo Mia, what are you—”

“Happy birthday, oppa!” Yoo Mia cheered from the back. “We’re going to the amusement park!”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s brow creased as he muttered, “There’s no need for this.”

“Nope! We are going on all the roller coasters and eating all the food.” Yoo Mia crossed her arms decisively, the other two kids nodding vigorously beside her.

“You should listen to your little sister, Yoo Jonghyuk-ssi.” Yoo Sangah said cheerfully from the front. “She went to all the trouble to plan this for you, after all!”

Yoo Jonghyuk sighed, his brow creasing even further as he shut his eyes. Kim Dokja was surprised there weren’t permanent lines on his forehead yet. 

Taking his defeated sigh as a yes, the children in the back all whooped loudly and began high-fiving each other. 

“Okay, but why are Kim Dokja and I here?” Han Sooyoung demanded.

“Aren’t you two friends with Yoo Jonghyuk?” Shin Yoosung asked innocently.

“Well, I mean, I make fun of him sometimes.” Han Sooyoung shrugged. 

“See! That’s friendship.” Yoo Mia said triumphantly.

Kim Dokja rubbed his neck. “Wouldn’t it have been better to bring Lee Jihye?” 

“She’s out on vacation with one of her friends.” Yoo Jonghyuk said.

“... Then what about one of your fans from scho—”

“No.” 

That still didn’t explain why Kim Dokja was an acceptable alternative. Perhaps this was merely another extended part of Yoo Jonghyuk’s apology?

The remainder of the surprise van trip passed in relative silence, occasionally broken by the kids arguing over something random. After half an hour, they finally reached their destination, the amusement park rides looming before them. 

Kim Dokja slowly stepped out of the van, his back creaking ominously as he stretched. In contrast, the kids practically tumbled out of the car, gleefully chasing each other around while Yoo Sangah volunteered to go get tickets, dragging a hissing Han Sooyoung along with her. 

“You didn’t say anything about it being your birthday today,” Kim Dokja said, walking up to Yoo Jonghyuk.

“I didn’t intend to.” Yoo Jonghyuk crossed his arms.

“Why not?” 

“There are more important things to do besides wasting time on such a trivial thing.”

“Is that so.” Kim Dokja wondered what in the world could be so important that Yoo Jonghyuk couldn’t spare a few hours for his own birthday. The boy’s mouth was set in a firm line, his eyebrows knitted together in an expression of impatience.

“Oppa, why do you look so upset?” Yoo Mia dashed over, clinging onto her brother’s leg.

Yoo Jonghyuk’s stony composure seemed to waver before his little sister. The shadows in his face faded, and he gently patted her on the head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

In Ways of Survival , Yoo Jonghyuk also had a soft spot for his little sister. Kim Dokja remembered her clearly; because of her, even the cold-hearted regressor still knew what it was like to love others—for now, at least.

For a long time, Kim Dokja had only felt warmth when he read Ways of Survival . He indulged in the love that pushed the characters forward to replace what he lacked in his own life. It was pathetic, and yet, it was all he had. 

Now, Kim Dokja found himself in front of something he had only witnessed through words. This time it wove through the air, achingly tangible, far removed from a fictional dream or a distant memory. This time, perhaps he too could—

“What rides do you want to go on?” Yoo Jonghyuk asked Yoo Mia.

Yoo Mia wriggled away from her brother’s side and stood proudly with her hands on her hips. “Big ones! That drop all the way down and do a bunch of loops and go really fast—”

Just listening to the description made Kim Dokja’s stomach flip. “Are you even tall enough to go on those?”

Yoo Mia stuck her tongue out. “What, is squid ahjussi doubting me?” 

“No, I just…” Kim Dokja trailed off as the other two kids ran over.

“Hyung, you have to ride on the roller coasters with us!” Lee Gilyoung pumped his fists, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Pleaase, ahjussi!” Shin Yoosung grabbed Kim Dokja’s hand, hopping up and down.

His gaze darted between the two children on either side of him, then shifted pleadingly to Yoo Jonghyuk. 

“I’ll go on the roller coasters if Yoo Mia wants to.” Yoo Jonghyuk said, not a trace of mercy in his tone. Kim Dokja should’ve known he wouldn’t receive any help from that guy of all people. 

Salvation came in the form of Yoo Sangah waving a fistful of tickets in the air. “Everyone, I’ve got the tickets, let’s go!”

Moments later, they were inside the amusement park. A variety of food stands, attractions, and stores littered the streets, but Yoo Mia paid them no mind, pointing at a huge roller coaster. “Let’s go on that one!”

The metal rails glinted menacingly in the sunlight, carving out a deathly trail. The track clawed into the sky before dropping at a jarring tilt, ending only after several dizzying loops and turns. 

“Wait, we just got in and that’s the first thing you want to…” Kim Dokja cut himself off as the kids started running towards the roller coaster.

High-pitched screams echoed through the air. Kim Dokja gulped, watching a cart zip along the rails at inhuman speeds.

“What, you afraid of roller coasters?” Han Sooyoung strolled over, an eyebrow arched in mockery.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Not at all. You?”

“Not at all,” Han Sooyoung mimicked, making her voice sound nasally. Before Kim Dokja could insult her in return, she leisurely walked off, resting the back of her head on her hands.

Kim Dokja shot a desperate glance at Yoo Sangah, who shrugged good-naturedly. “That ride is quite popular—it’s probably best to get in line sooner rather than later.”

And that was how Kim Dokja found himself strapped in the world’s most delightful torture machine next to Han Sooyoung, his heart rattling against his ribcage. 

“You know, maybe this isn’t—” Then Kim Dokja’s world shifted to a pleasant 45 degree angle and he found himself pressed against the back of his seat, the massive pit in his stomach promising to swallow him whole.

The ascent was painfully slow, accentuated by each sinister clink of the rails. Kim Dokja caught a glimpse of the park, dissolving into incomprehensible specks below him. A phantom memory curled around his neck: indigo blue skies, a gray sea of pavement below, one knee perched upon the windowsill—

“Kim Dokja.” Han Sooyoung’s voice cut through the air. 

“What is it?” Kim Dokja asked, trying to stop his voice from cracking.

“I actually hate roller coasters.” Han Sooyoung shuffled in her seat, her knuckles white around the restraints. “I think I’m going to piss myself.”

Kim Dokja would’ve started laughing if he wasn’t also about to piss himself. “Then what was all that earlier? Saying you weren’t afraid?”

“I just thought it would be funny to bully you, since you were clearly terrified.”

“You are an asshole .” Kim Dokja croaked.

“Want me to apologize?” 

“No.”

Suddenly, there was a lull, the cart grinding to a pause. Kim Dokja’s heart leapt into his throat.

“It’s here!” Yoo Sangah exclaimed from the front, as if she were opening a present with an adorable little trinket inside and not about to plummet several hundred meters to the ground.

“The ground is pretty far away, huh?” Han Sooyoung laughed weakly. 

Kim Dokja squeezed his eyes shut. Someone screamed—

—and the cart dropped. 

It was dark. Like a lonely comet hurtling through a black void, Kim Dokja let go of all sensation. Reality bent and time spun in circles until the rattling of the rails reminded him of something he’d rather forget; an unnerving silence, broken only by the clattering of a train bound for nowhere.

Then his breath caught and slammed into the back of his throat, and Kim Dokja opened his eyes with a start. A flurry of blue and green colors exploded in his vision as the world swooped past. The wind battered his face, an immense pressure rooting him to his seat. Surrounded by wild whoops and cheers, Kim Dokja felt a manic grin erupt on his face.

For the first time since that day, he was falling again. But why was it that this time, it felt like he was plunging towards a conclusion far brighter than death? 

As quickly as it had started, the roller coaster came to an end.

Kim Dokja shakily stood up and stumbled out of the cart towards a nearby railing. While he draped himself over it, his head throbbing and his limbs turning to sludge, company presented itself in the form of a very pale Han Sooyoung.

“Son of a—” Han Sooyoung slapped a hand over her mouth and doubled over next to him, retching.

“Fun ride, huh?” Kim Dokja wheezed.

Han Sooyoung gagged, her face turning green. “Mmmhm.” 

“Was it worth bullying me over?”

“Absolutely.” She then proceeded to dry-heave into a nearby bush.

Kim Dokja tentatively reached out a hand and patted her back.

“Is she all right?” Yoo Sangah came over, her bangs sticking to her forehead. Her breaths came quickly, as if she’d been running.

Han Sooyoung shot up, batting Kim Dokja’s hand away. “What would make you think I’m not?”

Yoo Sangah stared at her, before shaking her head and pulling out a plastic water bottle from her backpack. “Drinking water can help you feel better.”

For someone who had just been violently ill, Han Sooyoung clung on rather well to her facade of being healthy. “You didn’t need to run over here.”

“Mhm. Of course I didn’t.” Yoo Sangah said with a wry smile, twisting open the water bottle and holding it out to Han Sooyoung.

Han Sooyoung glared at the water bottle, then at Yoo Sangah. Finally, she wordlessly snatched the water bottle from Yoo Sangah’s hand, chugging down the drink.

“Here, I also have one for you, Dokja-ssi.” Yoo Sangah pulled out another water bottle from her backpack and handed it to him. He gratefully took the water bottle, uncapping it.

“Ahjussi, how was the roller coaster?” Shin Yoosung ran over, shortly followed by Lee Gilyoung.

“He was terrified. He nearly peed himself.” Han Sooyoung interjected, grinning.

“Says the one who was busy barfing into a bush?” Kim Dokja retorted. 

“Hyung, it’s okay to be afraid! I used to be scared of roller coasters when I was younger.” Lee Gilyoung said.

Kim Dokja didn’t want to know what a 9-year-old considered as “younger,” but needed to say something before Han Sooyoung tarnished his image any further. “I wasn’t afraid, but thank you. I’m sure Han Sooyoung needed to hear that.”

Han Sooyoung crushed her empty water bottle. Kim Dokja grinned at her.

“What are you guys standing around talking about? There’s more rides to go to!” Yoo Mia yelled. The group turned to see her standing next to Yoo Jonghyuk, who showed no indication of being affected by the roller coaster other than his hair seeming a few strands out of place.

It was unfair. Kim Dokja made a face.

Yoo Jonghyuk apparently didn’t see it, following his sister away.

The rest of the group trailed after them, ending up in front of a colorful popcorn cart. Yoo Mia pressed her face against the glass.

“Oppa, I want popcorn.”

“I can make better popcorn at home,” Yoo Jonghyuk grumbled.

“But we’re not at home right now.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to go on more rides?”

“I want popcorn first!”

When Yoo Jonghyuk still shook his head, Yoo Mia stamped her feet. “Oppa, you traitor!”

“I want popcorn too…” Shin Yoosung sighed. 

Yoo Sangah watched the two of them, before raising her hand. “Jonghyuk-ssi, surely there’s no harm in buying one bag of popcorn? I can pay for it—”

“I’m not letting Yoo Mia eat the amusement park’s greasy, disgusting food.”

“It’s only a little!” Lee Gilyoung whined. Yoo Mia nodded her head aggressively.

“Hyung, make that sooty bastard buy us popcorn!” Lee Gilyoung tugged on Kim Dokja’s sleeve.

With that, all eyes turned to him. Kim Dokja blinked, his mind racing. “Uh—”

“How about you two compete at that carnival game over there? If Yoo Jonghyuk wins, no one gets popcorn. If Kim Dokja wins, Yoo Jonghyuk has to buy us popcorn.” Han Sooyoung lazily pointed at a nearby stand.

“Fine.” Yoo Jonghyuk said immediately.

Kim Dokja glowered at him. This bastard, was he really that confident in his ability? He hadn’t even seen what the game was, and he was agreeing to the deal just like that?

Several minutes later, Kim Dokja learned that Yoo Jonghyuk did indeed have the skill to back his insufferable ego up. 

“How do you keep winning?” Kim Dokja demanded.

“You’re just bad,” Yoo Jonghyuk stated, taking another stuffed prize from the terrified employee. “Accept your loss.”

Kim Dokja cursed out Yoo Jonghyuk several times in his head.

The carnival game was a fishing simulator. Within a minute, players used little plastic rods to fish up different kinds of sea creatures. Any player who hit a certain amount of points could get prizes, ranging from pitiful rubber squid figurines to huge stuffed sunfishes. The sunfishes were only available after hitting a ridiculously high score, but Yoo Jonghyuk already had gotten three.

“Ahjussi, the popcorn!” Shin Yoosung wailed.

“You suck. Let me give it a try.” Han Sooyoung said, confidently striding up to take the fishing rod from Kim Dokja.

A minute later, Yoo Jonghyuk had acquired his fourth sunfish.

“ How. ” Han Sooyoung grabbed her hair in frustration.

“Exactly.” Kim Dokja said glumly.

“Yoo Jonghyuk-ssi, stop bullying them.” Yoo Sangah crossed her arms.

“I’m not bullying them.”

Yoo Sangah nudged Han Sooyoung aside, taking the fishing rod from her hands. “Here. If I get a higher score, you’ll let me buy popcorn for the kids, okay?”

Yoo Jonghyuk gave her a long glance, then picked up his plastic fishing rod again.

This time, the game was markedly different from previous attempts. Yoo Jonghyuk had good timing and aim, allowing him to catch an abundance of fishes, but Yoo Sangah was like a machine, sometimes managing to string up multiple fishes in one go. 

At the end, the quivering employee tallied the scores, and announced that Yoo Sangah beat Yoo Jonghyuk by a landslide.

“How did you beat him?!” Han Sooyoung gawked.

Yoo Sangah accepted a stuffed sunfish from the petrified employee, chuckling. “These kinds of games always have a certain strategy to them, as long as you study them closely enough.”

“Of course the model student wins by studying . Ridiculous.” Han Sooyoung closed her eyes.

Suddenly, Yoo Sangah walked over and pressed the stuffed sunfish to her face. Han Sooyoung’s eyes shot opened and she squawked indignantly, reaching up to get it off. “What—”

“I just thought you should have this.” Yoo Sangah said, a note of mischief in her voice.

Han Sooyoung spluttered something unintelligible, but didn’t throw the plushie away.

“... You didn’t need to try so hard.” Yoo Jonghyuk moodily stalked over.

“I just wanted to everyone to get popcorn.” Yoo Sangah smiled. Then, a sharp look crossed her eyes. “Although, if you want, we can always have a rematch.”

“Please don’t!” The game employee blubbered.

“Why not?” Han Sooyoung sneered. “Did you think that no one would ever score that many points?”

The employee scratched his head. “The… the only sunfish plushies we have left in stock are the ones on display…”

Yoo Sangah covered her mouth, giggling. “It’s fine. I was only joking.” She bent down, holding a hand out to Yoo Mia. “Now then, shall we go get popcorn?”

“Yes!” Yoo Mia jumped up and down.

—

The popcorn was exactly as greasy and disgusting as Yoo Jonghyuk had prophesied, which was probably why it tasted so good. After finishing his portion, Kim Dokja noticed Yoo Jonghyuk sitting alone on a bench, like a kindergartener put in timeout. 

“Are you still mad Yoo Sangah obliterated you back there?” Kim Dokja asked, sitting down next to him.

“I got complacent after fighting you and Han Sooyoung. Had I been more prepared—”

“Isn’t that what everyone says?” Kim Dokja snorted. 

Yoo Jonghyuk glared at him, though the effect was ruined by the four sunfish plushies in his arms.

“Since when were you so good at games, anyway? Do you dedicate your life to playing games or something?”

“They’re not that difficult.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Yoo Jonghyuk shot him a look, and Kim Dokja raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Forget I asked.”

A heavy silence passed. Kim Dokja busied himself with counting the bricks in the pavement, trying to ignore the shadows squirming at the corners of his mind. The kids believed he and Yoo Jonghyuk were friends, but Yoo Jonghyuk himself had done nothing to confirm that. Kim Dokja was merely here because the alternative was worse. 

Kim Dokja dug his fingers into his knees, clenching his teeth. Once again, he’d overstepped his boundaries. If he wanted to befriend others, he needed to take it slow. There was no room for thoughtless interaction. He had to—

Something hit his head. Kim Dokja flinched, before his eyes flew to a small white stuffed squid on the ground. He picked it up, huffing a quiet laugh at its beady little eyes.

“It’s yours.” Yoo Jonghyuk spoke, his low voice barely more than a rumble. 

Kim Dokja held up the little squid, pinching its face. “... Did Yoo Mia put you up to this?”

“She calls you squid ahjussi very often.”

Appalled, Kim Dokja lowered the squid, blanching. “Don’t tell me I remind you of a squid now.”

He was met with silence. Kim Dokja squinted his eyes at Yoo Jonghyuk. For a few moments, he thought he glimpsed the other boy’s mouth curving upwards.

No way, this guy actually had a sense of humor?

Kim Dokja pocketed the squid. Of course the first time Yoo Jonghyuk displayed any hint of humor was at his expense. 

“Damn sunfish bastard,” Kim Dokja muttered to himself, venomously eyeing the sunfish plushies tucked in Yoo Jonghyuk’s arms.

Yoo Jonghyuk started, whirling towards Kim Dokja. “What?”

Kim Dokja stared at him. “What?”

“Say that again.” Yoo Jonghyuk said, oddly insistent.

“I said, damn sunfish bastard.” Kim Dokja repeated.

Yoo Jonghyuk opened his mouth as if he wanted to say more, when Lee Gilyoung came over and grabbed Kim Dokja’s hand. 

“Hyung! Stop talking to the sooty bastard!” Lee Gilyoung flailed his free arm wildly, then continued, “there’s a teacup ride over there! Can we go on that?”

Shin Yoosung jumped up behind Lee Gilyoung. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

“You guys already finished your popcorn?” Kim Dokja said.

“I finished before him!” Shin Yoosung proclaimed.

As the two kids argued, Kim Dokja stole a glance at Yoo Jonghyuk, wondering why he had acted so strangely earlier—but the boy was already gone, handing Yoo Mia a napkin. 

He glanced back at Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung. Kim Dokja hadn’t gone on a teacup ride before, but he vaguely recalled that they involved a lot of spinning. The kind that could induce vomiting if one spun too fast.

“Ahjussi, can I sit in the same teacup as you?” Shin Yoosung begged.

“Ah, well…”

“No, hyung is sitting with me !”

“No, me!”

“No—”

“Okay, why don’t all three of us sit in the same teacup?” Kim Dokja interrupted before they could start up again.

And so, once again, Kim Dokja found himself melting into a puddle of goo as Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung somehow managed to spin the teacup at speeds no human should be able to withstand. 

When the blender disguised as a fun ride ended, Kim Dokja barely made it out of the rink before he excused himself and ran to the bathroom to eject the contents of his stomach (popcorn, mainly) into the toilet. Several minutes of gagging and retching later, he staggered out of the restroom, feeling like he had aged several hundred years.

Unsurprisingly, he still felt like he was about to puke, so he found a random corner between the buildings and collapsed on the ground with a groan. Kim Dokja gazed vacantly at the ground, tracing the uniform cracks in the stone. Each line followed a strict pattern, creating a perfect grid.

That was right. It would be fine. While he recovered, the rest of the group could go on all the thrill rides they wanted without Kim Dokja holding them back. Logically, it was a perfect arrangement, and probably one they should’ve done from the very beginning.

“You’re a fool.” A shadow fell over Kim Dokja, and he craned his neck upwards to see Yoo Jonghyuk.

“And what makes you think that, exactly?” 

“You didn’t have to go on that ride.” 

Kim Dokja’s head throbbed, but he scowled. “I can handle a basic teacup ride. Besides, the kids were really excited about it.”

With an equally unimpressed scowl, Yoo Jonghyuk replied, “You shouldn’t force yourself to do things solely for the sake of others.”

Kim Dokja scoffed. “Isn’t it only natural to want to make the people you care about happy?”

Yoo Jonghyuk sat down next to Kim Dokja. After a long pause, he could only frown, his mouth set in an unhappy line.

It was clear; he didn’t know how to respond. Emboldened, Kim Dokja continued. “You get it, don’t you? As Yoo Mia’s brother.”

The other boy made no sound, refusing to meet Kim Dokja’s gaze.

Kim Dokja yanked out a stray blade of grass, rolling it between his fingers. “She’s always yapping about how cool you are, you know.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing. I think it’s admirable, that you two care about each other so much.” Kim Dokja smiled wistfully. “It’s good to have someone you can rely on.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Do you have someone to rely on?” Yoo Jonghyuk asked, his gaze dark and unfathomable.

Kim Dokja thought of a brown-haired woman with worn hands and gentle, but sad eyes. A woman who told him stories in secret and held his hand when he was scared, a woman who—

He crushed the blade of grass in his hand, tossing the tattered pieces away as he pushed himself to his feet. “Actually, I’m feeling better now. Let’s head back.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Yoo Jonghyuk said, standing up next to him.

A bit childishly, Kim Dokja thought of when he said the exact same thing to Yoo Jonghyuk earlier. “Neither did you.”

“You…”

“There they are!” Someone called. Moments later, the two of them were surrounded by the rest of the group.

“Kim Dokja getting lost I can understand, but you too, Yoo Jonghyuk?” Han Sooyoung raised an eyebrow.

“Hyung, we thought you died again!” Lee Gilyoung cried.

Shin Yoosung grabbed Lee Gilyoung’s hand, nodding. “We’re really sorry, ahjussi. We didn’t think spinning that fast would make you feel sick...”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! It wasn’t really that bad.” Kim Dokja smiled reassuringly. Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung cast disbelieving faces at him, so he ruffled their hair until the two of them started laughing, trying to duck away from him.

“Does that mean you’ll go on more rides with us?” Shin Yoosung’s eyes sparkled.

“How could I not?” Kim Dokja bent down, playfully poking her on the cheek.

He straightened up, only to see Yoo Jonghyuk watching him, his expression unreadable. 

“Do you have someone to rely on?”

Kim Dokja looked away.

“Ah, about going on more rides. I think we should start heading back home.” Yoo Sangah said.

Yoo Mia’s mouth dropped open. “What? We still have the other roller coasters, and the drop tower, and the bumper cars—” 

“The park closes in ten minutes. I’m really sorry, Yoo Mia-ah.”

“But—” 

“Do you think we can do all of that in the next ten minutes?” Han Sooyoung tapped her foot impatiently.

“... No.” Yoo Mia pursed her lips, then huffed, giving up.

—

On the way back, they dropped Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung off first, who gave everyone sleepy goodbyes. 

Shadows settled over them as the sun hid below the horizon. Kim Dokja felt himself teetering on the verge of sleep until Han Sooyoung shot up. “Wait, what about cake?”

“I don’t need cake. If Yoo Mia wants some, I can just bake it at home.” Yoo Jonghyuk’s gaze remained fixed on the window. Yoo Mia was snoring away in the back, curled up in her seat.

“But then I can’t eat it.” Han Sooyoung drummed her fingers on her armrest.

“Even if I baked a cake, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

“What, are you gonna make Yoo Mia eat the whole thing? Are you trying to give your own beloved sister diabetes, Yoo Jonghyuk?”

Yoo Jonghyuk finally tore his gaze away from the window to glower at Han Sooyoung. “I’ll kill you.”

“ Or , you could share some of your cake with me and save your sister from imminent health problems.” Han Sooyoung turned around in her seat to raise her eyebrows at Yoo Jonghyuk.

“Yoo Mia won’t get any ‘imminent health problems’ from my cooking.”

The two of them continued bickering, their words gradually fading into background noise. Kim Dokja yawned, his eyelids struggling to stay open. Once again, he nearly dozed off again, when—

“Agh!” Han Sooyoung threw her hands in the air. Kim Dokja’s mind refocused, and he shifted, prying open his eyes. “I should just marry someone who can cook.”

“Don’t people usually want to marry someone rich?” Yoo Sangah pondered.

Han Sooyoung smirked at her. “Hey, I’m a popular web novel author. I’m the rich person everyone wants to marry.”

Kim Dokja yawned. “Aren’t you dating Yoo Jonghyuk? You’re rich, and he cooks. It works out.”

The van fell deathly silent. Kim Dokja shut his eyes, preparing to finally fall asleep, before he lunged forward, straining against his seatbelt. “Wait, no, I didn’t—” 

“ What did you just say?” Han Sooyoung grit out through her teeth. 

“I—I was just assuming, you know, you guys always argue and get this weird tension. And you act really familiar with him, like teasing him constantly—and, uh,  I also see you two together a lot!” Kim Dokja had no idea what he was saying. 

Yoo Sangah was vigorously shaking her head, but Kim Dokja needed to search for more words, anything to dig himself out of the hole. “It’s like how in romance novels there’s the brooding, mysterious guy, and then there’s the—”

The van seemed to rattle with the amount of murderous intent skyrocketing inside it.

Yoo Jonghuk flexed his hands, a storm brewing on his face. “Do you want to die?”

“One more word.” Han Sooyoung coughed violently, smacking her chest. “One more word, and I’ll tear your mouth wide open.”

Kim Dokja swiftly shut his mouth, cold sweat trickling down his back.

A few more excruciating minutes passed until Yoo Sangah pulled up next to a familiar house. Han Sooyoung shuffled off of her seat and hopped out of the van.

“Uh, what about your sunfish—” 

Han Sooyoung spun around, stumbling a little as she scooped the plushie up. “Damn, I almost forgot. Thanks.”

Kim Dokja wanted to say something else, but it was as if she had read his mind.

“And don’t worry about what you said earlier. I can forgive you for being an idiot this time.” Han Sooyoung threw him a lopsided grin, and Kim Dokja sighed.

Then, after waving goodbye to the others, Han Sooyoung was gone.

“I’ll drop off Yoo Jonghyuk-ssi and Yoo Mia-ah first, since they’re closer.” Yoo Sangah said, stepping on the gas pedal.

“That’s fine,” Kim Dokja said. When Yoo Jonghyuk didn’t say anything, he glanced over, only to find that the boy’s eyes were shut, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic motion. He’d fallen asleep.

“Like sister, like brother, hm?” Yoo Sangah spun the wheel as she made a right turn.

“Yes.”

When the van eventually rolled to a stop, Yoo Jonghyuk had awoken again, his posture stiff. Kim Dokja briefly wondered if he was trying to act as if he’d never fallen asleep to begin with.

Either way, he inclined his head towards Yoo Sangah as thanks, attempting to carry a half-asleep Yoo Mia out with him.

“I can get out myself!” She complained, her voice scratchy from sleep.

Apparently too exhausted to argue, Yoo Jonghyuk let go of her. Eventually, the two of them made it out of the van and began walking towards their apartment.

The van door slowly slid shut, when a sudden urge arrested Kim Dokja. He stuck his arm out, stopping the door.

“Dokja-ssi?” Yoo Sangah gasped in alarm as he unbuckled his seatbelt, nearly tripping over himself as he sprinted out of the van.

“Hey!” Kim Dokja yelled, stumbling to a halt.

“Huh?!” Yoo Mia jumped, turning around. Yoo Jonghyuk had already entered their apartment, the door slightly ajar behind him.

“... Thank you. For inviting me.” Kim Dokja paused to catch his breath, panting heavily. “And sorry.”

Yoo Mia tilted her head.

“Because of me, you guys couldn’t go on all the other rides you were excited for.” Kim Dokja bowed apologetically.

Yoo Mia huffed and squinted at him. “For a high schooler, you’re really dumb.”

“Thanks?” He tried.

“No, dummy.” She flicked his forehead and Kim Dokja winced, straightening up. “Today was about my brother, not me!”

“That doesn’t change—”

“You still don’t get it?” Yoo Mia rolled her eyes, then leaned in, whispering, “Oppa looks happy when he talks with you. He actually had a lot of fun today.”

The front door slammed open. “Yoo Mia, what are you saying to that fool?” Yoo Jonghyuk said sharply.

Ignoring him, Yoo Mia continued, “You don’t need to be sorry, so quit looking so sad.”

Kim Dokja lips parted, his mouth dry. In the end, he could only nod mutely.

“See you later, ugly squid ahjussi!” Yoo Mia waved and ran back to her brother.

The two of them exchanged a few words, with Yoo Mia laughing loudly as Yoo Jonghyuk’s face twisted in what seemed like.. embarrassment?

That was impossible. Yoo Jonghyuk had no reason to be. Knowing this, Kim Dokja left the two alone, trudging back towards the van.

—

“How did it go?” Yoo Sangah asked.

Kim Dokja opened the front passenger door and slid in, groaning. “I think I just got lectured by a grade schooler.”

“Grade schoolers can be surprisingly knowledgeable.” Yoo Sangah started the engine, and the van hummed quietly. As they drove, Kim Dokja watched the rows of houses go by, trees waving in the night breeze. 

“If you don’t mind my asking, what did you get lectured about?” 

“I went to apologize for ruining the birthday trip, but Yoo Mia told me it was fine.” Kim Dokja wrung his hands, smiling bitterly. “She even said that Yoo Jonghyuk looked happy when he talked to me.”

Yoo Sangah pressed her lips into a firm line.. “Why do you say that like it’s a joke?”

“Of course it is. How could it not be?”

“Is it really so unthinkable, that Dokja-ssi can make other people happy?”

“I can make other people happy. I can buy them ice cream or help them with problems. But today, all I did was vomit and waste people’s time.”

“Being friends means that you don’t have to do things to make other people happy. Sometimes, just spending time with them is enough.”

Yoo Sangah was lying. Such a thing wasn’t so simple.

The traffic light ahead of them flipped from yellow to red, and the van ground to a halt. The vivid color filled Kim Dokja’s vision until all he could see was the artificial hue, glowing like blood in the dark.

“You know the story with my mother, right?” Kim Dokja finally spoke.

In a distressed tone, Yoo Sangah said, “Your history doesn’t matter. We’re all here for you now.”

Of course she knew it. There were hardly any people in the school who didn’t.

Perhaps it was the late night humidity. Perhaps it was the luminous stars overhead, or the exhaustion eating away at Kim Dokja’s sense of reason. Whatever the reason was, he blurted, “I was an unwanted child.”

Yoo Sangah’s face fell, but he steered forward. “My father resented me. He was a drunk, good-for-nothing piece of trash who only knew how to hurt his family, though, so maybe it made sense. At the very least, my mother was always on my side.”

“Even after she murdered my father, I still believed in her. Then she published that book.” Kim Dokja laughed humorlessly. “Because of that damn book, everything changed. My relatives and classmates were all disgusted by me. I still remember a classmate telling me that my mother made money by selling murder.”

Yoo Sangah could only stare. 

“Yoo Sangah-ssi. You make things like friendship and happiness sound very simple.” Kim Dokja closed his eyes, a wan smile on his face. “But for someone like me, those things are everything but simple.”

She didn’t say anything. Kim Dokja didn’t even know if he wanted her to. He was supposed to have worked through this by now, after all—what was there to say to someone like him, still trapped in his own past?

He opened his eyes. The traffic light was still red. He should’ve stopped long ago.

“I’m sorry. It—everything I just said, it was a joke.” Kim Dokja forced the corners of his mouth upward. “None of it means anything, so please, just forget about it.” 

As he spoke, the traffic lights scattered across his sight in a mosaic of crimson. When had they gotten so blurry?

Then, something warm and soft covered his hand. Kim Dokja blinked, his vision blurring even further. He didn’t look down, and neither did Yoo Sangah.

Silence enveloped them in a gentle shroud. Kim Dokja was reminded of a different time, outside a train station under a pale sky. A volatile rage had seized him then, his mother’s words still burning under his skin. Even then, Yoo Sangah’s reassuring presence had persisted throughout it all.

The light switched green, and Yoo Sangah’s hand disappeared from his as she resumed driving. Kim Dokja squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. What had he been thinking of? …It must have been déjà vu.

“I think it’s my turn to apologize.” Yoo Sangah finally murmured after a few minutes.

“Huh?”

“I’m afraid I can’t just forget about everything you said.” 

Kim Dokja hurriedly wiped his face and sniffed.

“I won’t ask you to just believe in yourself, or other people. But please keep trying. Even if it’s only a little bit at a time, keep pushing forward.”

“You’ll fall back many times. Some days, you might feel the same as you do now.” 

The moon glittered overhead in a silver crescent, and Kim Dokja marveled at how the light dappled over Yoo Sangah’s features. The very same features that now turned to him, steadfast in their determination.

“When that happens, please, remember that we are here for you. And we won’t leave you or despise you.”

“How can you be so sure?” Kim Dokja laughed, congested.

“I just do.” Yoo Sangah held a hand to her heart. “You are not alone. And as long as we are here, you never will be.”

The van stopped outside his house. Kim Dokja looked out the window at the unwelcoming building, gray walls and dark windows looming over him. 

He looked back at Yoo Sangah. “Thank you.” 

Yoo Sangah smiled at him, a little sadly. “Good night, Dokja-ssi.”

—

“So, about the question I posed yesterday.” Kim Dokja said, staring at the board in front of him instead of Yoo Jonghyuk.

“I will kill you where you stand.”

“Technically, I’m sitting.” Kim Dokja corrected, before cutting himself off at the violent aura coming from beside him. “But, um, I just wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding yesterday.”

Yoo Jonghyuk grunted, then returned to his worksheet.

“Although, if it ever actually becomes a thing, I fully support you two. Despite the height difference and mismatching personalities and all.” 

The murderous aura immediately returned in full force, and Kim Dokja clamped his mouth shut. After a few minutes passed, he deemed it safe to go near Yoo Jonghyuk again.

“Aren’t you doing that problem wrong?” He pointed out the moment he saw the boy’s worksheet.

Yoo Jonghyuk’s pencil stopped moving. Then, he angrily erased everything he wrote, reducing the page back to a blank space.

“Are you ever not bothersome?” Yoo Jonghyuk muttered.

“How else can I tell you you’re wrong without being ‘bothersome,’ then?”

“Yoo Sangah is quite good at that. You could learn from her.”

“Well, sorry I’m not Yoo Sangah,” Kim Dokja rolled his eyes. “How do you two know each other, by the way?”

“I won’t answer that.”

“Of course you won’t.” Kim Dokja sighed. “I’ll stop bothering you.”

Yoo Jonghyuk clenched his jaw. “That…” He trailed off.

Kim Dokja raised an eyebrow at him. Yoo Jonghyuk let his pencil hover above the paper, then put it down.

“The more you don’t talk—”

“Yoo Sangah and I play for the same esports team.” Yoo Jonghyuk pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows slanted downwards.

“You’re a pro gamer?” Kim Dokja’s voice rose a pitch. The Yoo Jonghyuk in Ways of Survival had also been a pro gamer.

“Yes. Now shut up or I’ll kill you.” 

Suddenly, everything made sense. His confidence at the carnival game, the awkward air when Yoo Sangah beat him… “What game do you play?” Kim Dokja rested his chin on his hand, intrigued.

“I answered your question. I won’t answer anything else.” Yoo Jonghyuk resumed puzzling out his worksheet again.

Kim Dokja regarded the other boy. He thought of Yoo Sangah’s words, so irritatingly reasonable despite the time and place they were uttered at.

Yoo Jonghyuk had answered his question. It was only fair if Kim Dokja returned the favor.

“Back at the amusement park, you asked me if I had someone to rely on.” Kim Dokja began fiddling with his pencil, flipping it around between his fingers.

The constant scratching of pencil against paper ceased.

His throat dry, Kim Dokja forced himself to continue. “The short answer is no. I don’t have anyone to rely on.” Unless you count a Ways of Survival as a person.

Kim Dokja swallowed and focused on on his pencil, bright yellow under the sunlight. “I’ve always figured that it’s impossible, relying on other people.”

“It’s not impossible.” Yoo Jonghyuk folded his arms together. “You’re a fool for thinking otherwise.”

It was a denial, a rejection of everything Kim Dokja had come to accept as part of his world. And yet, Kim Dokja couldn’t help but bite back a wobbly grin.

Because wasn’t that what believing in other people meant? Taking apart the rules Kim Dokja had boxed himself inside of, one letter at a time.

He gripped his pencil firmly, steadying his hand. “Maybe you’re right.”

Chapter Text

His father wished for him to be a strong man. One who stood on his own, without need for others—the kind of being that lived and died alone. 

His mother wished for him to be a reader. One who could find company in words, who would never feel lonely as long as he had books at his side..

In the end, the child became both. He endured a harsh loneliness unlike any other by hiding. He hid underneath the sea of text within each novel and behind the backs of his favorite characters. He imagined their ghostly smiles, breaking past the boundaries of fiction to meet him.

And so, in such a manner he survived, dreaming of unsaid words and faceless friends.

—

Kim Dokja awoke to the sound of paper crumpling. He blearily opened his eyes, watching the student next to him drive his pencil straight through the desk. The paper below his hands was wrinkled beyond recognition, battered with eraser shavings and smudged graphite. Veins popped along rough, scarred hands as the student clenched his fists.

Confused, Kim Dokja blinked again. The scars disappeared. He peeled his face off his desk, rubbing his eyes as his vision blurred. Yoo Jonghyuk’s hands were clear, the skin a little rough but devoid of any injury.

He looked up at the board, where the teacher was going over a math problem. He yawned, stealthily peeking at Yoo Jonghyuk again. Anguished was not a word Kim Dokja typically used to describe Yoo Jonghyuk, but Kim Dokja really couldn’t identify any other emotion that matched what he was witnessing.

“What are you staring at.” Yoo Jonghyuk growled.

Kim Dokja stopped mid-yawn, coughing. “I wasn’t staring at anything.”

With a slam, Yoo Jonghyuk flipped his paper over to a clean side and began writing the problem down again. 

“But I will say that brute force won’t help you solve that problem.”

“You’ve been asleep the entire class. What would you know?” 

“I wasn’t sleeping. I was resting my eyes.” 

“Do you drool when you rest your eyes, too?”

Kim Dokja hurriedly touched his face. Hadn’t he made sure to wipe any drool away? This damn sunfish bastard, noticing things he shouldn’t.

“Anyway, there’s a formula you can apply to that problem.”

“It doesn’t work.” Yoo Jonghyuk scribbled out something on his page again.

“Did you try applying it differently?” Kim Dokja raised an eyebrow.. “Or have you just been repeating the same thing, over and over?” 

“I didn’t ask you for help.” Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyebrows slanted down unhappily, his fingers about to dig holes through his paper.

“You can’t figure it out alone. Give me that.” Kim Dokja leaned over, grabbing the paper before Yoo Jonghyuk destroyed it. The other boy stared at him, his eyes widening. After an awkward stalemate, Yoo Jonghyuk released his grip on the paper.

He flipped it over and studied Yoo Jonghyuk’s numerous attempts. Each time, he only changed the way he solved a few variables. When his answers started differing vastly from the beginning, Kim Dokja could see where the boy began restarting the problem more frequently. Eraser marks sank into the page, the problem illegible underneath the dark pencilwork. 

Finally, Kim Dokja flipped the page over. Save for the crossed out attempt at the very top, the rest of the paper was snowy white, a blank sheet for Kim Dokja to write on. 

“You were actually pretty close to solving it here. Why’d you give up?” Kim Dokja tapped the problem at the top.

“... It didn’t seem right. I’ll do the problem again.” He reached for the paper.

Kim Dokja hurriedly slid it away. “Yoo Jonghyuk, wake up. Don’t think things will improve if you repeat them a few times.” 

Yoo Jonghyuk remained silent. His eyes widened imperceptibly, his pupils shaking. In them, Kim Dokja saw a windy city; ravaged by monsters yet beautiful nonetheless. 

He trailed off, then cleared his throat, refocusing on the math problem. “You can do it. Stop erasing your work and solve it this time.” 

Conflict brimmed in Yoo Jonghyuk’s face. He begrudgingly took the paper, undoing his scribbles and finishing what he started on that side of the page. When he made a careless error, Kim Dokja was quick to remind him, earning a stilted nod from Yoo Jonghyuk.

When they finally arrived at the correct answer, Kim Dokja couldn’t stop himself from grinning. 

“You enjoy meddling in other people’s problems,” Yoo Jonghyuk accused him.

Kim Dokja frowned. “We both know you needed help, even if you’re too proud to admit it.”

Unperturbed, Yoo Jonghyuk continued, “yet you make it so difficult to help you.”

Kim Dokja gaped at Yoo Jonghyuk, who had already turned away to flip through a textbook. “You—”

“I don’t have time for idle chatter. I need to pass the remediation exams.” Yoo Jonghyuk interrupted.

Any further attempts proved fruitless. Yoo Jonghyuk was like a brick wall, unyielding in his denial of Kim Dokja’s existence. 

With a sigh, Kim Dokja opened his own notebook, staring at mostly empty pages marked with the bare minimum of notes. Instead of thinking about variables and equations, he thought of the bewildering things he had seen. Scarred hands? An apocalyptic city? 

In Ways of Survival , Yoo Jonghyuk had been a pro gamer before the end of the world. Kim Dokja had long accepted all the strange similarities. He had even thought it would be funny if the ordinary boy doing math problems next to him suddenly pulled out a glimmering sword and start ranting about clearing scenarios.

But that didn’t mean he actually planned on seeing that happen. After all, becoming a hero and saving one’s friends was reserved for Kim Dokja’s imagination. Ways of Survival , along with all its characters, was purely fiction. 

Kim Dokja sighed again, checking his calendar. 

—

The summer days floated past lazily, filled with the echoes of pencil scritching and pages turning. With them came the remediation exams. Unlike the final exams, which had loomed over Kim Dokja’s head like a death sentence, the remediation exams felt like water, the answers flowing easily to him.

Finally, Kim Dokja walked out of the school, his footsteps light. Catching sight of Yoo Jonghyuk, he made his way over to the boy. “How did it go?”

Yoo Jonghyuk stiffened, his shoulders subtly rising. “... Fine.”

It wasn’t very convincing, but the sun was shimmering brightly and the sky was a carefree blue, so Kim Dokja decided not to bother Yoo Jonghyuk any further over it.

“It went well for you, I assume.” Yoo Jonghyuk crossed his arms.

Before he could respond, a pair of small hands seized Kim Dokja’s shoulders. He yelped and spun around.

“Aw, did someone get scared?” Han Sooyoung snickered, taking her hands back.

Not deigning to grace her with an answer, Kim Dokja rubbed his shoulder, making sure to emphasize how much agony he was in. 

“Why are you here?” Yoo Jonghyuk asked.

“I wanted to see the dejected looks on your faces after remediation exams, obviously.” 

“That’s so supportive of you.” Kim Dokja muttered. 

“Of course. How could I not support my good friends?” Han Sooyoung snickered, falling into step between them as they walked forward.

“Friends?” Yoo Jonghyuk said, echoing Kim Dokja’s thoughts.

“What, you don’t remember? On your birthday Shin Yoosung said we were, so it must be true.”

Yoo Jonghyuk regarded Han Sooyoung with an unreadable gaze.

As they walked, Kim Dokja let the sunlight wash over him, a tingling warmth bouncing over his skin. The blue sky seemed to waver in the heat, as if that intimidating expanse of indigo were questioning itself. It was the same sky as that day long ago, but somehow, Kim Dokja didn’t feel as small under it.

“What about companions?” Kim Dokja offered. When he was met with silence, he turned around to see the other two had stopped moving.

When he raised an eyebrow at them, confused, Han Sooyoung was the first to move, her voice faint. Kim Dokja walked closer to hear her. 

“Is there a reason you came up with ‘companions?’”

Suddenly feeling bashful, Kim Dokja rubbed his neck. “I don’t know. It just felt natural. Companions complete each other, right? They keep each other company. That’s what we do.”

Han Sooyoung groaned. “You don’t have to make it sound weird.” 

“You’re the one making it weird.” 

But the barest hint of something.. happy? Appeared on Yoo Jonghyuk’s face, and Kim Dokja could see Han Sooyoung trying to stifle a smile. Relief flooded his body, and Kim Dokja waited for them to catch up.

“It’s seriously too hot outside,” Han Sooyoung complained. 

“You’re too frail.” Yoo Jonghyuk commented, easily sidestepping Han Sooyoung’s vicious attempts at breaking his kneecaps.

“As a tall freak of nature, can’t you at least be useful and provide shade?” Han Sooyoung retorted.

Noticing how pale Han Sooyoung’s skin was, Kim Dokja said, “You haven’t been going outside, have you?”

“Of course not. Did you not just hear m—” Han Sooyoung yawned, cutting herself off.

“Tired at this hour of the day?” Kim Dokja snorted. 

“Shut up. For some reason, I just haven’t been able to sleep well these past few months.”

“It’s summer break.” Yoo Jonghyuk crossed his arms. “You can sleep as much as you want.”

“Just because it’s summer break doesn’t mean I’m not busy!”

“Busy with what?”

Han Sooyoung proudly cleared her throat. “Writing, obviously.”

That was right, Han Sooyoung was probably busy updating her webnovels. Kim Dokja instinctively took out his phone, reminded of Ways of Survival . The latest chapter had been released this morning, but he hadn’t had time to read it because he’d woken up late and rushed to remediation class…

“Hey, it’s a vending machine!” Han Sooyoung brightened up, rushing over to a familiar playground. They stopped in front of a shiny vending machine, colorful drinks and sweets lining its shelves. 

“... Has this always been here?” Kim Dokja asked.

“No.” Yoo Jonghyuk said, apparently also recognizing the playground as the one his sister frequented.

With a rather unconcerned shrug, Han Sooyoung slipped a coin into the machine. It rumbled, a lemon-flavored popsicle tumbling out at the bottom. Han Sooyoung picked it up and tore the wrapper open, her eyes lighting up.

Kim Dokja shook his head and turned to the machine, his eyes trailing over the selection. Eventually, he found some pocket change and bought a chocolate ice cream bar. To his surprise, when he opened the wrapper, he was greeted with two ice cream bars, fused together.

“Lucky you, getting a two-for-one deal.” Han Sooyoung leaned over.

“... I don’t think I can eat this much,” Kim Dokja confessed. He glanced over at Yoo Jonghyuk.

“I don’t eat things made by others.”

There went that idea. Kim Dokja grabbed the two sticks, figuring he may as well split them anyway. He took a deep breath and pulled with all his might, then—

gasped as the bottom half of one of the ice cream bars gave way, leaving the rest of the fused ice cream bars intact. It looked like a rectangle that was missing a huge, square-shaped corner. Kim Dokja held out the pathetic little stub of an ice cream bar he had ripped off, staring at it in horror.

Han Sooyoung burst into laughter, a tear in the corner of her eye. “How did you mess it up that badly?!”

Even Yoo Jonghyuk watched the spectacle, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Is that ahjussi? Ahjussi!” 

Suddenly, two children came barrelling over, latching onto Kim Dokja’s sides. He staggered, nearly dropping the ice cream bars. On his right was Lee Gilyoung, holding a massive bug net in his hands, and on his left was Shin Yoosung, her eyes sparkling. 

“Hyung, I didn’t know you were coming here today!”

The childrens’ cheeks were bright red, sweat plastering their hair to their foreheads. Kim Dokja tilted his head, smiling a little awkwardly. “Have you guys been running around in this heat?”

“Yeah! I was catching bugs!”

“No, you were just waving your net around like a dummy.” Shin Yoosung glowered. 

“Shut up!”

“Anyway, ahjussi, what happened to those ice cream bars?” Shin Yoosung craned her head to get a closer look at Kim Dokja’s shameful mistake.

“You see, ahjussi here is a huge idiot and couldn’t split the ice cream bars evenly.” Han Sooyoung grinned cheekily.

Lee Gilyoung peered at the sweets for a moment, then opened his mouth and promptly bit off the extra chunk stuck to the ice cream bar. “There, now it’s even!”

“ Lee Gilyoung! That was for ahjussi, how can you just—”

“I-it’s okay. Actually, if you guys want the ice cream bar, you kids can have it.” Kim Dokja said, trying not to gape at Lee Gilyoung obliterating the treat so quickly.

He gave an ice cream bar to Shin Yoosung, who had been trying to restrain her mouth from watering. After some hesitation, Shin Yoosung gratefully took it, unable to contain her excitement.

“Thanks, hyung!’ Lee Gilyoung smiled, his face covered in chocolate. Kim Dokja couldn’t help but smile back, giving him the remaining chunk of the ice cream bar.

“Eating too many sweets isn’t good for you,” Yoo Jonghyuk said to Lee Gilyoung.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Lee Gilyoung stuck his chocolate covered tongue out at him and glared.

“Wow, he hates you.” Han Sooyoung snorted. 

Yoo Jonghyuk sighed. 

“Hyung! Catch bugs with us!” Lee Gilyoung waved his bug net around, grabbing Kim Dokja’s shirt hem.

“Huh?!” Kim Dokja flailed as Shin Yoosung gently pushed him from behind, laughing.

“Yeah! You need to show Lee Gilyoung how to actually catch bugs, ahjussi.”

He looked helplessly at Han Sooyoung and Yoo Jonghyuk. When neither of them budged, he relented and let the kids guide him to some bushes. They spent the rest of the afternoon scrambling around in the bushes, chasing after grasshoppers and butterflies. Even Han Sooyoung and Yoo Jonghyuk tried their hands at catching bugs. Kim Dokja found himself laughing with his companions until his cheeks hurt and his eyes stung. 

When the others grew tired and decided to take a break, Kim Dokja continued to hunt for bugs in the undergrowth with Lee Gilyoung.

“Hyung.” Lee Gilyoung said, picking up a grasshopper with his hands. “Look!”

The grasshopper’s wings whirred, and Kim Dokja craned his neck over, marveling at it. Its body glowed emerald in the sunlight. 

“Do you want to hold it?” Lee Gilyoung asked, his tone betraying his excitement.

“Sure.” Not wanting to disappoint, Kim Dokja held out his hand.

Lee Gilyoung gently let the grasshopper jump to Kim Dokja’s hand. He flinched slightly at the contact, but calmed down, holding his hand still. The grasshopper seemed unbothered, its short antennae twitching.

He felt the hard chitin against his skin, and thought of what would happen if he were to crush it. The splatter of the grasshopper in his palm, the traitorous joy in his chest, the screaming of the people in the train—

What?

Kim Dokja refocused on the grasshopper, alive and well, still content to sit in the palm of his hand. As if it knew, somehow, that it was safe here.

“What do you think, hyung?” Lee Gilyoung smiled.

“It’s very cool, Gilyoung-ah.” Kim Dokja handed the grasshopper back to Lee Gilyoung, who chose to set it back in the grass, watching it hop back into the bushes.

“Hyung, I want to ask you something.” 

Kim Dokja sat down in the grass. “Go ahead.”

“You have to answer honestly, no matter what. If you do, I won’t tell anyone else, not even Shin Yoosung.” Lee Gilyoung said, his voice tight. In that moment, Kim Dokja felt the child looked older than he really was.

“.... One question.”

“You were being bullied, right?”

As Kim Dokja opened his mouth to quickly retort, something in Lee Gilyoung’s eyes stopped him. 

After a long pause, Kim Dokja nodded. “N-not right now, though.” He quickly added.

“Han Sooyoung-noona and that emo bastard will protect you, right?” Lee Gilyoung frowned, his little hands balling up. “Because if they won’t, I definitely will! I’ll come to hyung’s school and beat the bullies up!”

Just like that, Lee Gilyoung looked his age again. Kim Dokja chuckled. “You don’t need to worry, Gilyoung-ah.”

Unconvinced, Lee Gilyoung rocked back and forth, hugging his knees to his chest. “Hyung, I know you’re a nice person, but you don’t have to be nice to mean people. If they ever hurt you, you can fight back!”

Suddenly, Lee Gilyoung stood up, jumping into a fighting stance and throwing his fists out. “Like this! That’s how Jihye-noona taught us!”

Kim Dokja laughed. “Just like that?”

Lee Gilyoung brought his hands back to his sides, turning to look at him. “Just like that. Promise me, hyung!”

He heaved himself off the ground, ruffling Lee Gilyoung’s hair. “I’ll be fine.”

—

As the sun set, Kim Dokja lounged on the bench at the playground, thankful he was wearing his summer uniform. He felt disgusting, coated in sweat and dirt, but the grasshoppers they had caught proved that it was all worth it.

“I’m going to die from exhaustion.” Han Sooyoung proclaimed, flopping onto the bench next to him. 

“Where did Yoo Jonghyuk-oppa go?” Shin Yoosung bounded over.

“He left earlier to go prepare dinner for Yoo Mia.” Kim Dokja said.

“Aw, I want to eat his cooking.” Shin Yoosung sighed.

“No you don’t! I bet he would only cook healthy, boring stuff.” Lee Gilyoung crossed his arms. With that, the two started arguing about Yoo Jonghyuk’s cooking.

Kim Dokja chuckled, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt. Watching him, Han Sooyoung lightly punched his shoulder.

“Speaking of, when did you start wearing your summer uniform? From what I remember, you always wore the winter uniform. Even when it was spring.”

He immediately dropped his hand, his throat dry. The dark bruises and cuts that previously littered his arms had mostly faded, only visible if you knew what to look for. Remediation classes were peaceful, quiet, and the only gossip Kim Dokja heard was if students wanted to do the practice problems or skip. There was no Song Minwoo lurking in the halls, no cold rumors waiting to sink their claws into Kim Dokja’s neck. 

But summer break was drawing to a close.

“Kim Dokja?”

His face perfectly serene, Kim Dokja smiled at Han Sooyoung. “It was quite hot.”

“Yeah, it was also hot in the spring.”

“Ahjussi said his uniform was a fashion choice!” Shin Yoosung bounced over.

Han Sooyoung raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. 

Kim Dokja bit his lip. “You see, I… hey, we’ve been outside for a while today, why don’t we all head back before it gets dark?”

“We’re not done here!”

“Really? Because I am!” Kim Dokja abruptly stood up, before turning and practically running away.

“Wait, but hyung, you haven’t—” Lee Gilyoung dashed over, trailing off. “Where is hyung going?” 

Eventually, the loud chirping of crickets drowned out Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung’s panicked cries as Han Sooyoung cackled something behind him. Kim Dokja slowed down to a walk, feeling the humidity cling to his bare skin. The sun glimmered gold above him, his companions’ voices still ringing in his memories.

If only he could preserve this moment. If only he could relive every laugh, every joke, every sensation, like a wonderful, never-ending dream.

School began as though it never ended, with students naturally filling up the hallways with chatter. Kim Dokja stood in front of a board displaying students’ scores on the remediation exams. As he searched for his name, a familiarly refreshing presence stopped next to him.

“Congratulations, Dokja-ssi.”

“Ah, Yoo Sangah-ssi.” Kim Dokja greeted, before realizing what she said. “Huh?”

“You passed! Don’t tell me you can’t find your name?” Yoo Sangah giggled, pointing at a small line of text on her right. It was by no means high up on the board, but…

Kim Dokja leaned over, his eyes widening. “Ah, I… I really did pass.”

“Of course you did. You worked hard.”

“... Thank you, Yoo Sangah-ssi.” 

“Oh, Yoo Jonghyuk-ssi passed as well! That’s great…”

As Yoo Sangah scoured the board for other names, Kim Dokja kept his gaze pinned on his own name. For some reason, Kim Dokja’s throat felt rather choked up. Something misty fogged in the corners of his eyes as he looked at his own name on the board, next to a score he could be proud of.

It was a strange feeling, like he was witnessing something he shouldn’t have.

“How is everyone else doing?” Kim Dokja asked.

“Jung Heewon-ssi and Lee Hyunsung-ssi miss you.” Yoo Sangah said, after a brief pause. Noticing the look on Kim Dokja’s face, she continued, “You know, they’ve always thought of you as their friend.”

Kim Dokja smiled weakly. “Even after I stood you all up on the ice cream outing before exams started?”

“Of course. You had your reasons.” Yoo Sangah said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Kim Dokja shrugged. Yoo Sangah quickly turned to give him one of her rare serious looks, and he straightened up.

“Promise me you won’t run away the next time you see them.” Yoo Sangah asked earnestly.

“I… can’t promise anything.” He held her gaze, then exhaled. “But I’ll try.”

Yoo Sangah bid him farewell, and Kim Dokja waved halfheartedly as she receded into the hallway.

“Sangah-ssi’s wasting her time on you, you know.” Someone whispered behind him. Kim Dokja whirled around, but no one was there. The students flooded around him in an endless stream. Distantly, he heard voices behind his back, felt the way students roughly pushed by him. 

“Remediation? Seriously?”

“What happened? Wasn’t he one of the library tutors?”

For now, Kim Dokja drowned them out with thoughts of grasshoppers and ice cream bars.

—

Class continued like always. Kim Dokja gave Han Sooyoung a slight raise of his eyebrow as he sat down, and she gave him a toothy grin, her legs propped up on the desk in front of her. 

The teacher said something about how break was over and it was time to focus on school once again, and the rest of it faded into background noise. Kim Dokja certainly took notes, but his mind was somewhere else.

“What’s with the face?” Han Sooyoung said.

“Huh?” Kim Dokja looked at her.

“It’s lunchtime, idiot.”

“Ah.” Lunchtime. Kim Dokja tapped his foot anxiously, remembering arched eyebrows and a twisted smile and a shoe planted in his back.

“... Are you free during lunch?” Han Sooyoung put a hand on her chin, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What?” Kim Dokja murmured, distracted.

Han Sooyoung gave him a rather exasperated expression, then grabbed his arm, standing up and pulling him out of his seat. “Actually, I don’t care if you’re free or not. You’re coming with me.”

“What are you—” Kim Dokja hobbled after Han Sooyoung, letting her drag him to the entrance of the classroom. There, a familiar bastard waited, leaning against the doorframe.

“You’re with Yoo Jonghuk again?” He asked Han Sooyoung. “Are you sure you two aren’t dating?”

“Shut up or die.” Yoo Jonghyuk glowered. 

Choosing the former option, Kim Dokja decided not to question where the two were taking him. Even after they wound through numerous students, even after they headed into a particularly shady hall, even after they shoved through what vaguely looked like warning signs and debris.

Eventually, they walked up a set of stairs. Yoo Jonghyuk slammed open a set of doors, and Kim Dokja was greeted by an azure blue sky. A light breeze washed over his face, and for a few moments, he could only stare out at the horizon, his heart pounding.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been to the school roof before.” Han Sooyoung leaned against tall fence, lining the edges of the roof.

“I—I didn’t know you could get to it.”

“Of course you didn’t, because you always have your head in that phone of yours.” Han Sooyoung snorted.

“The roof has no people besides us.” Yoo Jonghyuk said. “I assumed you would have found it already.”

Aghast, Kim Dokja retorted, “What are you trying to say, exactly?”

“Seriously, can you two stop fighting every time you open your mouths? I’m trying to enjoy my lunch.” Han Sooyoung rolled her eyes, unwrapping her lunch.

Kim Dokja turned his head away from the enticing scent, only to be meet with Yoo Jonghyuk taking out numerous boxes. As he began taking the lids off each box, an aroma wafted out of each that immediately made Kim Dokja’s stomach grumble in response.

The other two students turned to look at Kim Dokja simultaneously, and he gave them a hasty grin, shuffling backwards. “Oh, wow, seems like I forgot to buy lunch! Guess I should—”

“Stay here.” Yoo Jonghyuk put his chopsticks down, glaring at him pointedly. 

Han Sooyoung tapped her chin, then squinted her eyes at Kim Dokja. “Do you actually eat lunch?”

“Of course.”

“You’re lying. My sister would pulverize you in a fight.” Yoo Jonghyuk said.

“That’s not true.”

“I believe it.” Han Sooyoung chirped. Kim Dokja frowned at her.

“These are baseless accusations.”

“Okay, then prove it! What do you eat for lunch?”

“... Convenience store kimchi. And sometimes bread from the school store.”

Han Sooyoung choked on her food, snorting. “I’ve seen the bread. It looks like a sad brick.”

“Where’s your food right now?” Yoo Jonghyuk said.

“I told you, I forgot to buy it.”

“... You really are an unfortunate guy.” Han Sooyoung sighed. “Here, I’ll donate some of my foo—”

“No, I’ve already taken enough from you. I really don’t need it, thank you.”

Kim Dokja raised his hands up, trying to deter Han Sooyoung from shoving her food at him, but instead felt something bump his leg. He looked at the ground to see one of Yoo Jonghyuk’s numerous lunch boxes sitting by him.

“Oh, so you’ll accept Yoo Jonghyuk’s food but not mine? I get it, he’s a master chef, whatever.” Han Sooyoung clicked her tongue angrily.

“No, that’s not what I was trying to say. I—” Kim Dokja found himself petrified as Yoo Jonghyuk levelled a vicious stare at him.

“Then what where you trying to say?

“T-That I’ll take them both, then! Naturally.”

With that, Kim Dokja found himself eating both the delicious kimchi that Yoo Jonghyuk had given him and the rice and vegetables from Han Sooyoung, under strict scrutiny from both parties. The moment he finished, Yoo Jonghyuk pushed a bowl of soup towards him.

“You need to eat more.” Yoo Jonghyuk said.

“Seriously, I’m full.” Kim Dokja pushed the soup back towards him. “Thank you, both of you. Besides, Yoo Jonghyuk, don’t you refuse to share your food with anyone besides your family?”

Watching them, Han Sooyoung interjected, “Exactly. Yoo Jonghyuk, you’re acting like his wife.” 

Yoo Jonghyuk choked on his food. Kim Dokja started coughing.

“He looks like a skeleton. He’s going to die if he keeps living like he is.” Yoo Jonghyuk frowned.

Han Sooyoung’s eyes glinted. “So you’re going to keep offering him food, right?” 

“... Yes.” Yoo Jonghyuk frowned, as if sensing something was wrong.

“Doesn’t that mean you’d be cooking specifically for Kim Dokja?”

“I will merely give him leftovers from cooking Yoo Mia’s lunch.”

“And those leftovers are going to fill up an entire lunchbox? Multiple, even? Every day?”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s brow furrowed as he realized where Han Sooyoung was going with her questions. Kim Dokja wanted to say something, but held his tongue.

“Just admit that you’re going to cook food for him. You’re basically his personal chef!”

“I am not Kim Dokja’s personal chef.”

“So you’re his wife, then.”

“Han Sooyoung, do you want to die?” Yoo Jonghyuk shouted.

The girl snorted, and Kim Dokja sighed, powerless to stop the two of them from bickering. It was like watching an angry black bear arguing with a newborn chick, except what the small chick lacked in size it made up for in intelligence. Not that he would tell them any of that.

When the school bell rang, he almost missed the cozy, yet free atmosphere of the rooftop.

—

While waiting for Han Sooyoung outside the bathroom before lunch, Kim Dokja became keenly aware of the way people’s eyes lingered on him for a second longer than normal. Their gazes crawled up his skin, but Kim Dokja resolutely ignored the sensation. People would forget about him soon enough once his story faded into the dust of obscurity.

Then, he saw a familiar figure in the rush of students flooding by. Kim Dokja instinctively turned his head away, his breath becoming quick, scattered. He took his phone out and clicked it open to a chapter of Ways of Survival , the familiar story calming his nerves. He scrolled, not really reading the text.

“Kim Dokja? I was wondering if you were still alive.” 

He kept staring at his phone, watching how the text flowed down the page, his eyes catching onto every instance of Yoo Jonghyuk’s name, every instance of courage the hero demonstrated.

A hand, grabbing his shirt. His head, jerking up. Kim Dokja registered everything in slow motion, before finally letting himself glower at Song Minwoo.

“You’re the same as always, reading that crap, huh?” Song Minwoo laughed.

Kim Dokja’s grip on his phone tightened. He noticed the wide berth the students around them gave, their pitiful gazes skirting around the scene. No one could be bothered to help. 

It was fine. He had never expected them to. 

“What do you want.” Kim Dokja gritted out through his teeth.

“Where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you since you puked everywhere.” Song Minwoo sneered.

“He’s been hanging out with us.” Suddenly, Han Sooyoung stepped out next to Kim Dokja, her arms crossed. 

Song Minwoo looked between them. “Oh, who’s this? Why’s she so puny?”

Han Sooyoung’s face darkened. 

“Aw, why are you so angry? Are you his little girlfriend?”

Before she could launch what Kim Dokja was sure would be a series of expletives, Song Minwoo continued, leering at him. “You’re lucky I’m not in the mood today. But don’t forget about your old buddy, okay? I’ll see you later.” 

With that, he turned, before looking back one more time. “And you, pretty girl next to him! It doesn’t do much good to hang around the son of a psycho murderer.” Finally, Song Minwoo disappeared into the sea of students. 

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard what he said.” Han Sooyoung said.

Kim Dokja put his phone away, his gaze downcast.  “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Look, if that guy is bothering you, we—”

“Thanks, but it’s all right.” 

Han Sooyoung frowned at him. “You—“

“You don’t need to get involved.” Kim Dokja cut her off, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice.

She scowled at him. “And why can’t I?”

“Because I’m not letting you!” Kim Dokja growled, surprising himself with how sharp he sounded. 

When Han Sooyoung didn’t respond, he mumbled an apology. They made their way to the rooftop in an awkward silence. Eventually, Han Sooyoung spoke to him again, and Kim Dokja pretended he didn’t hear the way her voice cracked.

Days passed. Kim Dokja ate lunch with his companions. Everything was normal. Nothing worrying happened. 

—

After school, Kim Dokja bid goodbye to Han Sooyoung and Yoo Jonghyuk. When they asked him where he was going, he teased them for acting like concerned parents, which was enough to make them stop asking.

Kim Dokja stood in front of a familiar room, his fists clenched at his sides. Through the class windows of the doors, he could see a familiar sight—people that he longed to speak to and laugh with again, but somehow couldn’t bring himself to.

A broad-shouldered student, reliable as always, hunched over a desk. Next to him, a grinning girl with her hair tied up into a bun. Kim Dokja remembered the last time they’d spoken to him, and how they’d promised to get ice cream. How many times was it now, that Kim Dokja had made a promise before breaking it?

Even though he hade made it all the way to the entrance to the student council room, a mere step away from meeting Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung again, his heart stuttered anxiously, his hand wavering over the handle.

This wasn’t a novel like Ways of Survival . He was no Yoo Jonghyuk, meeting an old companion again for the first time. He couldn’t predict how they would respond—perhaps Yoo Sangah was right, and they would welcome him with open arms. Or, perhaps they would turn to him with barely hidden resentment, suppressed behind pained smiles. Or they would simply yell at him.

Kim Dokja swallowed, his throat dry. To meet them again, to take that risk, even if it meant failure. 

That was right. He had to open this door, even if what lay on the other side terrified him. But before he could turn the handle—

“What are you doing, lurking outside of the student council room like a creep?” Song Minwoo said.

His heart clattered. Kim Dokja whirled around.

Song Minwoo’s mouth curled into a grin. “What, did they finally abandon you?” Kim Dokja saw a few other boys, none other than Song Minwoo’s goons, pop out from behind him.

Kim Dokja twisted his arm out of Song Minwoo’s grip. “Shut the hell up.”

“That’s not a very polite way to speak. Did you learn that from your mother?” Song Minwoo sneered.

Kim Dokja felt a twinge in his chest, but held his ground, like how Yoo Jonghyuk would. “You should just leave me alone. I’m not your dog anymore.”

“Oh, so lunch boy thinks he can just leave because he says so!” One of the boys cackled.

Song Minwoo stepped forward and grabbed Kim Dokja’s collar, hoisting him upwards. “Didn’t I tell you not to forget about your old buddy?”

“You’re not my buddy.” Kim Dokja’s heart rattled in his chest, willing his voice not to waver.

“Why are you so serious? We’re just having a friendly meetup, aren’t we?” Song Minwoo looked at the other students, who laughed in agreement.

“Yeah, with our stray dog!” One of the boys cackled.

Thinking of a writer with a sharp mouth and mischievous eyes, Kim Dokja steeled himself. “Look at you, always chasing after me. Who’s the real dog?”

There was an awkward silence. The goons looked at each other, confusion flickering in their eyes. Song Minwoo gritted his teeth. “What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me. Unless you’re too stupid to use your ears?” Kim Dokja said, his chest pounding.

Song Minwoo punched him. Kim Dokja staggered backwards against the wall. His cheek burned. The gangsters around him started saying something, but he could hardly focus. 

“Who do you think you are, talking back to me? Calling me a dog?!” Song Minwoo scowled, leaning in. “Get it right. I’m the one in control.”

Terror curled in Kim Dokja’s throat, tangling his voice. Song Minwoo was right. He was outnumbered and no one would come to his aid. Time and time again, he lost to Song Minwoo. The only thing Kim Dokja had learned from his years of living was to endure. Keep his head down until the gossip subsided, until his bullies got bored, until his relatives were away. 

But they always came back, sweeping him into their murky depths. And all Kim Dokja could do was drown, the sun blotted out by the infinite sea above him.

He saw Song Minwoo’s face, blurry with satisfaction. It made Kim Dokja angry, something carnal clawing up inside him. For so long, he had shoved that anger down, living out his feelings only through Ways of Survival . But Ways of Survival was no longer the only companion to his miserable life, was it?

Kim Dokja’s ears filled with a shrill, ringing sound. Something was screaming at him, like the page of a story refusing to flip over and finish. Suddenly, he was crouched in the grass with Lee Gilyoung, the phantom guts of a crushed grasshopper in his grip, a wild hunger buried deep beneath his facade of a human heart. 

He slammed his fist into Song Minwoo’s cheek, still turned away, his fist digging into rough skin, pain rippling from his knuckles. He watched Song Minwoo stagger backwards, undisguised shock tearing his mouth open, his eyes straining red as he held a hand to his cheek. There it was, a shift in the air, the story tearing out its boring, repetitive ending and opening anew.

“ You fucking bastard! ” Song Minwoo screamed, grabbing his shirt and violently shoving him backwards. 

17-year-old Kim Dokja smiled. 

He heard something like crystals singing, glittering stars shattering around him. The glass trophy case next to them had cracked under the impact, splintering into a thousand shards. Kim Dokja winced as the sharp edges dug into his back, the ceiling lights blinding him.

And then Song Minwoo was above him, blotting out the light. He snarled at Kim Dokja, almost animalistic. His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving with an injured pride. Rage carved his face into something inhuman. A keening noise sailed through the air, and Kim Dokja watched the blood drip from Song Minwoo’s palms as he raised a jagged piece of glass over him. 

Before Kim Dokja could react, Song Minwoo stabbed the glass shard into Kim Dokja’s neck with every ounce of strength he had.

Chapter Text

Every night, moonlight slipped into the empty bottle, its silver light sloshing around a hollow interior. The heavy stench spiraled through the air, wrapping around the boy in a chokehold. The boy stumbled backwards as his mother pushed him out of the kitchen, bare feet stumbling against peeling wooden planks.

She smiled at him as she shut the door, as if he couldn’t see faded bruises waiting to bloom anew. As if he couldn’t hear the wailing of shattering glass and muffled screams echoing outside. 

The boy clenched his fists, free of wounds meant for him. He dug his fingers into his palms until they bled, a cheap imitation of his mother’s suffering. He remembered how her eyes glistened, a night sky filled with the light of stars that had already died.

Every night, drunken moonlight spilled into their home, and his mother bore all of its tears for him.

—

Crimson blood dripped onto the floor like teardrops. 

“Kim Dokja.”

Blue veins bulged on calloused skin. The crystal clear glass shuddered in the air, frozen in place by bleeding hands. Yoo Jonghyuk gritted his teeth, pain flooding his face as he stopped Song Minwoo from moving the shard any further. 

It was as if the protagonist of Ways of Survival had manifested in front of him. Yoo Jonghyuk’s irises blazed with an unnamed emotion, something like a question and desperation crashing in their depths as he gazed at Kim Dokja, who was frozen in place.

“Get off of him!” Jung Heewon lunged at Song Minwoo and wrenched him backwards, rage carved in her face. The glass shard clattered to the ground as the hallway descended into chaos.

A pair of large hands grabbed his shoulders and lifted Kim Dokja up. He swayed on his feet before those hands steadied him like a reliable rock. 

“Lee Hyunsung-ssi.” Kim Dokja blinked.

“Dokja-ssi. It’s been a while.” Lee Hyunsung said, a sad smile on his face.

In the background, Kim Dokja caught sight of familiar faces in the fray. Yoo Sangah was helping Yoo Jonghyuk as he knelt on the ground. Han Sooyoung was kicking one of the boys’ heads, and Jung Heewon was ramming her fist into Song Minwoo’s face without abandon.

“What.. how…” Shock rolled through Kim Dokja’s body like a wave, leaving him feeling weak and shaky.

Suddenly, he found himself lifted several feet into the air so that he was on Lee Hyunsung’s back.

“We need to get to the infirmary now.” Lee Hyunsung said, running away from the fight. 

“What about the others? We can’t leave them—”

“They’ll be fine!” Lee Hyunsung harshly cut him off.

Kim Dokja’s protests died down in his throat. Lee Hyunsung had never yelled like that at him before.

For a moment, nothing passed between them other than the sound of breathing and Lee Hyunsung’s heavy footsteps. Kim Dokja marveled at the boy’s strength, carrying him easily without a sweat. Lee Hyunsung’s back was broad and warm, resilient and strong.

It prickled at his heart, so he instead thought about the throbbing in his cheek from getting punched earlier.

They eventually reached the infirmary. Like always, it radiated an air of cold impartiality, sleek white beds and curtains lining the empty room. The lights were off, and a sign saying the nurse was temporarily out sat on the counter.

Lee Hyunsung knelt by one of the infirmary beds and gently slid Kim Dokja off his back.

“Where are you are hurt, Dokja-ssi?” Lee Hyunsung said, standing up.

“... Just my face and arms. It’s nothing serious, you don’t have to—” Before Kim Dokja could finish, Lee Hyunsung had already disappeared into the back of the infirmary.

As he waited, Kim Dokja watched the way the faint light from the window pooled on the bed. It was dim, but it gave him a sense of comfort nonetheless. 

In a few moments, Lee Hyunsung returned, his face set in a determined line. He took some gauze and began applying it to the bruise on Kim Dokja’s face. Having come to understand how stubborn Lee Hyunsung was with these things, Kim Dokja decided not to object to him doing it for him.

“Dokja-ssi. May I ask you a question?” Lee Hyunsung asked, staring pointedly at the gauze he was applying and not meeting Kim Dokja’s eyes. His manner of speech was as polite as always.

“Yes.” Kim Dokja said, his body stiffening. 

“Why did you never tell us anything?” Lee Hyunsung’s face remained carefully neutral. It was a kind face, with a gaze that focused only on the job at hand—patching up Kim Dokja’s injuries—and didn’t stray to anything else.

“I…”

The silence stretched out between them. Lee Hyunsung moved to cleaning the bruises on Kim Dokja’s arms. 

Lee Hyunsung finished treating Kim Dokja’s injuries and straightened up, standing with his arms at his sides, his posture straight and proper. He looked like a soldier at attention.

“Since I’ve been young, I’ve always been taught the correct way to solve problems. As long as I followed the instructions taught to me, I wouldn’t have to worry about anything.” Lee Hyunsung’s hands clenched together.

He cast his gaze downwards, as if ashamed. “But Dokja-ssi, you didn’t come with a handbook. The truth is, when you stopped contacting us after finals, I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid.”

“I didn’t mean to avoid you all after finals,” Kim Dokja hurriedly said. “It’s just, I got extremely sick, and then…”

“I know.” Lee Hyunsung’s voice was defeated, weary. “I don’t blame you for anything. Please never think that.”

But how could Lee Hyunsung not blame him? Kim Dokja gripped the side of the bed.

With a deep inhale, Lee Hyunsung looked up at Kim Dokja, a determined furrow in his brow. “Maybe if I had just been a little braver and tried harder to reach out, we could’ve protected Dokja-ssi. Maybe you wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

“What?” Kim Dokja responded, bewildered.

“If I had been a better shield for you, if I wasn’t such a coward, you would have been fine.” Lee Hyunsung shuddered suddenly, raising a hand to rub furiously at his eyes. 

Indeed, the Lee Hyunsung of Ways of Survival was such a character. An enduring shield, a man who was endlessly kind and always put himself in front of others to protect them. Kim Dokja admired him as much as he looked up to Yoo Jonghyuk.

Yet for some reason, Kim Dokja couldn’t help but argue, “Lee Hyunsung-ssi, you are not just a shield.”

“But—”

Kim Dokja cleared his throat awkwardly. “What I mean to say is, you’re a very righteous and dependable person. You yell at me when I’m being dumb. You cry for me when you worry, and you try your best to talk to me even if you are afraid like you say. Would a shield do all of that?”

Lee Hyunsung scratched the back of his neck. “Dokja-ssi, I…”

There were many things that Kim Dokja had done wrong. But he could not allow Lee Hyunsung to take the fall for mistakes that weren’t his. Because Lee Hyunsung was the most honest, earnest, and trusting man he knew. 

“I promise I won’t lie or hide important things like that anymore.” Kim Dokja curled his hands into fists. “Not because you’re a shield, but because you are a precious companion to me.”

Daring to meet Lee Hyunsung’s gaze, all Kim Dokja found were tears. Panicking, he raised a hand towards him, when the infirmary door slammed open.

A large group of familiar people flooded in, their shoes squeaking against the floor. At the forefront was none other than—

“ You !” Jung Heewon roared, her hair a mess and eyes ablaze, grabbing Kim Dokja’s collar and pulling him into the air. Kim Dokja recoiled, shutting his eyes in preparation for his rightful punishment after everything he’d done.

Instead, something wet and warm dripped onto his cheek. He opened his eyes to see Jung Heewon’s face wrinkled with tears. As she sniffed loudly, Kim Dokja felt her grip on his collar loosen and he fell back onto the infirmary bed. Jung Heewon sank to the floor, furiously scrubbing her eyes.

“H… Heewon-ssi?”

“Don’t talk to me.” Jung Heewon huffed, finally removing her hand from her face. She took a deep breath and then got on one knee, head down.

“You know, I’ve had a lot of time to think since last semester. Why you never asked us for help, why you never told us anything, why you disappeared after promising us we’d go eat ice cream and the only time I heard about you was when Sangah-ssi went to find you.”

With each accusation, Kim Dokja felt himself folding inwards.

“I was really mad, you know. Had we done something wrong?” Jung Heewon looked at her hands. “I thought that when I met you again, I’d probably give you a good punch. I’d yell at you. I’d ask you why the hell you never asked us for help.”

“He’s already injured—” Lee Hyunsung began.

“I’m won’t, don’t worry.” Jung Heewon cut him off. She finally raised her head, smiling wryly at Kim Dokja with red, puffy eyes. Cuts and bruises littered her face. 

He wished she had hit him.

His thoughts must have been evident, as Jung Heewon laughed a little. “When I saw your face, all the desire for violence somehow left my body.” She shook her head a little, standing up and tying her hair back up. “In any case, you look like you’ve already received a bit of a beating, so we’ll count that instead.”

Kim Dokja’s gaze followed her upwards, silently meeting the eyes of everyone in the room. Jung Heewon, Lee Hyunsung, Yoo Sangah, Han Sooyoung, and…

“Where’s that guy?”

“Yoo Jonghyuk is in the back getting treated by the nurse.” Han Sooyoung answered, massaging her cheek. 

And then, he realized just how scratched up everyone was: Han Sooyoung’s proud expression was marred with bruises, Jung Heewon’s arms were littered in scratches, and…

The nurse, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes, walked out, distaste written all over her face.

“How is everyone?” Yoo Sangah asked, stepping in front of the nurse.

“The other boys are all resting in the back. Your moody friend over there is most likely going to need stitches. We can’t provide that here, so I’ve bandaged him up for now and contacted the nearest hospital for him to visit.” 

The words caused a pit in Kim Dokja’s stomach, and a wave of nausea overtook him as he saw Lee Hyunsung’s hands in the corner of his sight, bruised and rough. Had Lee Hyunsung also gotten injured trying to get him away from Song Minwoo as well?

“Thank you so much for your help, ma’am.” Yoo Sangah said.

The nurse’s eyes lingered coldly on Kim Dokja, still sitting on the bed. “Now, would you lot care to explain what happened? Why is half our student council getting into fights?”

Lee Hyunsung made to move in front of him, and Yoo Sangah coughed. “We were stopping a case of bullying. Song Minwoo and the other boys were—”

“Either way, we can’t have something like this tarnishing our school’s reputation.” The nurse interrupted.

“What?” Han Sooyoung barked. “Are you serious? He—” She gestured at Kim Dokja, “could’ve gotten seriously injured because of those bastards, and you—”

“We do not tolerate this kind of language against school staff.” The nurse crossed her arms. 

Han Sooyoung opened her mouth as if to shout more vulgarities at the nurse. Yoo Sangah stepped on her foot and she clamped her mouth shut.

“Do you realize how much time and paperwork this is going to cost me? I’ll have to contact all of your parents as well, as well as report this to the principal.” The nurse sighed, glaring at them. “A fight of this size is not going to go unnoticed.”

“What about all the other times he’s been bullied?” Jung Heewon said. “Where was the paperwork and time? How come no one noticed back then?!”

As the infirmary descended into clamor, Kim Dokja became acutely aware of how his heart thundered in his chest. All background noises seemed to fade away. Static rang in his ears and he stared at the floor, thinking about a protagonist whose sword could cut through stars. A protagonist who willingly shouldered thousands of wounds for the sake of others.

If he were a real protagonist, none of his friends would be injured right now.

“Stop.” Kim Dokja blurted out, causing the noise around him to die immediately.

“What? Dokja-ssi, this isn’t—”

“Everyone should leave. Now. I’ll talk to the nurse myself.” Kim Dokja stood up.

“... We’ll wait for you.” Yoo Sangah finally said, taking a spluttering Han Sooyoung by the arm and gently tugging her towards the exit. Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung reluctantly followed them, casting concerned glances back at him. 

As the door shut behind them, Kim Dokja turned to face the nurse. 

“I’m sure you know the consequences of your actions. We have several exemplary students now that have gotten into a silly school fight because of whatever you and those boys in the back have going on.”

“Song Minwoo has been bullying me for several months. They stepped in to protect me.” Kim Dokja said.

The nurse pushed up her glasses, then smiled at him emptily. “Indeed. Yoo Sangah-ssi, Jung Heewon-ssi, they’re all fantastic students that have achieved multiple awards. They’re part of our school’s success story.”

Kim Dokja’s throat dried up and an unsettling feeling crawled along his neck.

“Now think about it. ‘Star students help son of convicted murderer, multiple students injured.’” The nurse tapped her pen on her desk. “I just don’t want a story like that to end up on their record.”

“You know about my mother.” Kim Dokja’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

“Who doesn’t?” The nurse sighed, leaning forward. “Listen, Kim Dokja-ssi. It’s just that.. you know, think about it like a novel. Some characters don’t fit in certain stories! That’s all.”

“Are you telling me to stay away from them?”

“I’m just telling you to think about what’s best for them.”

Suddenly, Yoo Jonghuk strode out of the inner room, standing between Kim Dokja and the nurse. His hand was heavily bandaged, concealing the stab wound beneath.

Kim Dokja’s breathing quickened. He stared at Yoo Jonghyuk’s injured hand, ignoring Yoo Jonghyuk’s unreadable gaze.

“Let’s go, Kim Dokja.” Yoo Jonghyuk said.

“Make sure to think about what I said.” The nurse called as they stepped out of the infirmary room, Yoo Jonghyuk slamming the door shut behind them with a loud bang .

“Where did the others go?” Yoo Jonghyuk asked, as they were greeted with only the sight of Han Sooyoung.

“They had to go talk to the principal. They told me to tell you guys they hope you’re both feeling better, though. Also, Yoo Mia called me asking why you weren’t picking up your phone.”

Yoo Jonghyuk held Han Sooyoung’s gaze for a few seconds, as if having a silent conversation. Finally, he said, “I have to go pick her up. Don’t do anything foolish.” 

With that, Yoo Jonghyuk looked at Kim Dokja one more time before leaving.

“Hey, make sure to get your hand checked out properly too!” Han Sooyoung yelled after him.

After he left, Han Sooyoung’s gaze sharpened as she faced Kim Dokja. “What did that pathetic excuse for a human being say?”

“You mean the nurse?”

“I like what I called her better.” Han Sooyoung put a hand on Kim Dokja’s back, gently guiding him down the hall. Her hand, though small, was warm. 

“You…”

“Huh?” Han Sooyoung said.

“You’re a really great person, Han Sooyoung.” Kim Dokja said.

They stopped. Han Sooyoung robotically turned to look at him, her eyes wide. “You say some really embarrassing stuff sometimes.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay, okay, I know! I’m the best.” Han Sooyoung coughed, slapping Kim Dokja’s back a few times.

“Thank you for standing up for me back there. And all those other times.”

“Save your thanks for everyone else. I think I’m going to get an allergic reaction if you keep saying this stuff.”

Kim Dokja’s mouth twitched into half of a smile at that.

“Promise me you’ll tell us everything, by the way. And if you try running away from us again, I swear I’ll send Yoo Jonghyuk after you.”

He listened as Han Sooyoung aggressively tried to comfort him in her own way, but the bloody image of Yoo Jonghyuk’s hand in front of him wouldn’t leave his mind.

Why had he blocked that knife for him? Why had Yoo Jonghyuk stepped in like that? What kind of emotion had been racing in his heart when he decided to protect Kim Dokja, a boy who had given him nothing?

There were hundreds of questions he wanted to ask Yoo Jonghyuk. Try as he might, he could not envision what had been running through the other boy’s mind.

These were questions he wished to ask the others, as well. Why didn’t Jung Heewon hit him, back then? Why did Lee Hyunsung blame himself for Kim Dokja’s mistakes? Why did Han Sooyoung try so hard to reassure him, even when she didn’t have to?

As he said goodbye to Han Sooyoung, his heart felt so heavy he wasn’t sure if he could hold it up anymore.

—

“You little brat! ” Kim Dokja’s aunt screamed as he stepped through the doorway.

He stood still, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“What the hell was that call about? We gave you a home, food, we let you go to school, and all we ask for is for you to live quietly.”

The house was dark. Kim Dokja supposed his cousins haven’t gotten home yet.

“We give you so much for nothing in return and this is how you treat us. Do you have any sense of shame? Do you even know what we have to give up to keep you here?”

Kim Dokja looked down in a display of shame, hoping it would ail her anger.

“God, I always knew you and your disgusting mother were of the same breed. Attention-seeking pieces of filth.” His aunt walked over to him and loomed over him.

“Your mother is a murderer, and yet she dared to slip her face into the newspapers with that ridiculous book. And now look at you. Jumping off school buildings and then getting into fights—are you that desperate to be like your mother?”

Kim Dokja bit his tongue. It tasted like blood.

“Do you understand how much of a burden you are on people around you?” His aunt spat at him.

“I’m sorry.” Kim Dokja said, keeping his voice quiet, meek, uncombative.

“We don’t have enough food for you to eat today. Go figure that out yourself. I don’t want to see your face.” 

“Yes.” 

With that, his aunt turned around and left. Kim Dokja stood by the doorway for a moment longer, feeling her words sink into him like cold water invading his lungs. He inhaled deeply, hoping the suffocating sensation in his chest would leave.

His relatives never hit him. Unlike his father, they never laid a hand on him. But what they couldn’t do physically, they made up for in the way they berated him and shamed him, their gazes like hawks scanning for prey.

Kim Dokja felt his stomach rumble and exhaled, ignoring it. 

For the most part, he had grown deaf to their words. He knew they only saw him as his mother’s child, another mouth to feed, a stain on the family. But there was one thing his aunt said that bothered him, like ice crawling along his veins.

He thought of the fake smile Yoo Sangah wore as she talked to the nurse, her hands clenched behind her back. The bruises and injuries lining his friends’ bodies.

He remembered the way his mother smiled, strained, when she talked to him, hiding her injuries under long sleeves and false courage.

The memories settled in his heart, a brand he knew he’d have to atone for, some way, somehow.

—

The days trekked forward. Kim Dokja no longer saw Song Minwoo, and the gossip seemed to flow like usual. He noticed the way students looked at him now; stares of pity were more frequent, and no less disturbing.

At lunch, he relished in the way the cold air brushed against him, eating kimbap from the convenience store nearby. Autumn was coming, the humidity of summer replaced by the crisp breeze. He leaned against the rooftop’s fence, reading the newest chapter of Ways of Survival.

“Are you reading that trashy webnovel again?” Han Sooyoung asked, sitting next to him.

On his other side, Yoo Jonghyuk sat silently, eating his food with chopsticks. The atmosphere between him and Yoo Jonghyuk had remained awkward, with Han Sooyoung being the one to start conversations and keep everything normal.

“It’s not trashy.” Kim Dokja turned the phone screen away from her.

“Come on, you should read my writing! I could write way better stuff than that.”

“Search up SSSSS-Grade Infinite Regressor . It’s popular for a reason, you know!”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to.”

Han Sooyoung groaned and flopped down on the rooftop, the cloudy gray sky reflected in her sharp eyes. “I could write you thousands of stories that are better than whatever you’re reading.”

“.. Thousands of stories?” 

“More than that, if you wanted.” Han Sooyoung rolled over and propped her head up on her hand, grinning like she had just told him she would get him a vending machine drink.

“Writing takes a lot of time, doesn’t it?” Kim Dokja tried to chuckle. “Besides, I wouldn’t need you to do all that…”

Her mouth thinned into a line, and she stared at Kim Dokja, any hint of mischief gone from her face. “I’m serious, you know.”

Kim Dokja felt an unknown emotion curling in his gut. “.. Fine. I’ll search up that novel you mentioned and give it a read.”

“You won’t regret it!” Han Sooyoung’s eyes gleamed. 

“I don’t know about that just yet.”

“Yoo Sangah said my writing was decent!”

“Yoo Sangah’s read your webnovels?” Kim Dokja clicked his phone off, incredulous.

“Finish your food.” Yoo Jonghyuk closed the lid of his lunchbox, nudging the noodles he’d given Kim Dokja.

Kim Dokja’s eyes lingered on Yoo Jonghyuk’s hand, still bandaged. “... Thanks.” He said, his voice coming out more quietly than he intended to.

As if sensing the way the air shifted, Han Sooyoung quickly interjected. “Yoo Jonghyuk, you should let me eat some of your food too. If you do, I’ll let you read my webnovels for free!”

“I’m not interested.” Yoo Jonghyuk immediately said, and the air returned to normal, Han Sooyoung and Yoo Jonghyuk bickering over something that Kim Dokja couldn’t help but hold back laughter over.

As the day drew to a close, Yoo Jonghyuk left early to go pick up his sister, while Han Sooyoung said something about going to visit some café with Yoo Sangah. This resulted in Kim Dokja standing at the school entrance alone, changing his shoes.

“Dokja-ssi!” Someone called.

Kim Dokja looked up to see Lee Hyunsung and Jung Heewon walking over, already wearing coats over their school uniforms.

“How’s it going?” Jung Heewon asked, a bright grin on her face. A bandaid was slapped haphazardly on her cheek, barely covering a scratch. Kim Dokja swallowed.

“Alright, how about you two?”

“The weather’s getting cold.” Lee Hyunsung said glumly.

“It’s really kicking in that summer break is over.” Jung Heewon agreed.

“... I guess it would be weird to get ice cream in this weather, right?” Kim Dokja said, his voice a little hoarse.

The other two students blinked at him, then Jung Heewon burst out laughing. “Don’t tell me you’re still kicking yourself for that?”

Kim Dokja’s face flushed at their reactions. “Wh—I mean, I broke a promise.”

“Even so, you’re here now, aren’t you?” Jung Heewon tilted her head at him.

Lee Hyunsung nodded vigorously, and Kim Dokja felt his heart squeeze. He really was surrounded by good people.

“We can just get something else, after all. Oh, how about hot chocolate?” Jung Heewon suggested.

“I’m happy with whatever Heewon-ssi chooses.” Lee Hyunsung said. “But we should wait for Sangah-ssi so we can all go together, shouldn’t we?”

“Well, of course.” Jung Heewon tapped her chin. “Oh, and you can invite that grumpy guy, Yoo Jonghyuk, and… Han Sooyoung if you want.”

Kim Dokja raised an eyebrow at the pause before Han Sooyoung’s name, before remembering that the two of them had apparently gotten into a fight before. Deciding not to push it, he said, “Sounds good.”

“Anyway, you live that way, right?” Jung Heewon pointed to the right, and Kim Dokja nodded.

“Ah, that’s opposite from where Heewon-ssi and I are headed…” Lee Hyunsung sighed.

“You have an umbrella, right? It’s going to start raining soon.” Jung Heewon asked.

Kim Dokja vaguely remembered bringing his umbrella. It should be in his bag, so he nodded.

“Okay then. See you later!”

Kim Dokja waved goodbye to the two of them as they walked off, Jung Heewon laughing at something Lee Hyunsung said.

Somehow, the two of them looked quite good together. But remembering how Han Sooyoung and Yoo Jonghyuk had responded to him saying that, Kim Dokja decided not to think too much about it.

As he hoisted his schoolbag up on his shoulder, he heard some students walking by.

“Is that the kid who got into a fight?”

“Didn’t he get Yoo Sangah-ssi in trouble?”

“I hope the student council is doing okay…”

The wind swept by. The trees were losing their healthy green sheen, replaced by faded colors, dull under the cold ashen clouds.

Kim Dokja listened to the way his feet crunched against the gravel. The chilly wind seemed to grip his heart, leaving him feeling lonely despite the fact he’d just been talking to Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung moments ago.

He thought of opening his phone to read Ways of Survival as he walked, but recalled Han Sooyoung’s eyes, glittering with determination as she declared she’d do something as outrageous as write a thousand stories for him. More than that, even.

He couldn’t stay as a burden to his friends forever. He had to find a way to repay them for everything they’d done. After all, if it weren’t for them…

Kim Dokja felt something wet drop onto his nose. Then on his head and the back of his clothes, until the rain started falling in a heavy shower. He reached a hand to his schoolbag, digging around for his umbrella.

When he couldn’t find it, he took his schoolbag off his shoulder, his heart racing, and unzipped his bag, digging around on the side of the road. When he still couldn’t find his umbrella, Kim Dokja gave up, standing up and putting his bag back on his shoulder.

With a long sigh, Kim Dokja continued walking, the rain crescendoing into a heavy downpour. Eventually, he found a bus stop awning to wait out the rain under. It did little to prevent the cold gusts from lashing at him, and he was still already soaked from earlier, but it was better than nothing. 

Kim Dokja sat on the bench and took out his phone, wiping the screen off and opening it to the chapter of Ways of Survival he had been reading.

As he read about Yoo Jonghyuk fighting with the grand and majestic constellations, he marveled at how powerful his protagonist was. All of Yoo Jonghyuk’s skills were entirely his own—techniques and training he had honed over multiple regressions. They weren’t system abilities granted by the Star Stream, but rather, the outcome of Yoo Jonghyuk’s genuine hard work. An indomitable will that would never give up. 

Kim Dokja put his phone away after finishing the chapter, noticing how the rain still didn’t let up. With a sigh, he rested his elbows on his knees, staring at a puddle gathering in front of him on the pavement. 

Unlike Yoo Jonghyuk, Kim Dokja wasn’t powerful and didn’t have that same dedication or resilience to train and regress so many times. If he were in Ways of Survival, if he wanted to help his companions or carry onwards, he’d likely have to resort to shortcuts, methods that Yoo Jonghyuk would probably never pursue.

They were different people, after all, as much as Kim Dokja admired him. If Kim Dokja were in Ways of Survival, he would definitely try to help Yoo Jonghyuk find a happy ending and destroy all the stars in the sky, if it meant reaching an end to the scenarios. 

He could join Yoo Jonghyuk’s party as another member. Another method Kim Dokja liked to fantasize about when he was bored was becoming a constellation. The recent chapters had revealed the method to become a constellation was to gain five great stories. Kim Dokja had made a mental list—for fun, of course—of how he would gain the stories to become a constellation.

If he was a constellation, he would definitely have more ways to help Yoo Jonghyuk. He could even be useful, instead of the pathetic boy who had to let his friends get hurt in order to survive.

Kim Dokja shook his head to clear his thoughts, refocusing on the large puddle at his feet. To his surprise, his blurry reflection looked strange. His features were hard to distinguish, but something was markedly wrong about the reflection.

For example, Kim Dokja was fairly certain he didn’t have sharp, curved horns jutting out of his forehead. He watched as the clear reflection of the puddle was blotted out by dark, feathered wings, rising up from his back.

For a moment, his reflection looked like a demon.

But that was right, wasn’t it? That day, under the broken ceiling of that dark castle, faint sunlight trickling down. He remembered how it felt, staring at the dazzling light, preparing to do whatever he needed if it meant his companions would make it out alive.

That was the kind of person he had to be—because there was no other way to repay such a debt.

The reflection rippled violently, as if something had sliced through the mirage. Kim Dokja blinked, the memories coursing through him gone as soon as they had arrived.

In the puddle, a familiar protagonist appeared, dressed in a black coat. Through the wavering water, eyes carrying the world’s misfortunes sparkled like jewels, and a large black umbrella cast a shadow over Kim Dokja. 

“What foolish thing are you thinking about this time?” Yoo Jonghyuk said.

Kim Dokja searched for his reflection in the puddle. Instead, his view was dissolved as Yoo Jonghyuk stepped directly into the puddle, his large black boots shattering the surface of the water. The images taunting Kim Dokja disappeared in a splash.

“I…” Kim Dokja tried to rack his brain for what he had just seen, but it dispersed as quickly as it had come, washed away in the rainfall.

“You’re soaked. You’ll get sick again.”

Kim Dokja looked away from ground and saw not a protagonist, but simply a boy in a raincoat. Something tight in his chest released.

“I’m not that frail.” He complained.

“The rain won’t let up for a while. Come to my place and wait it out.”

Kim Dokja blinked, trying to see Yoo Jonghyuk’s expression. It was hidden under the shadow of the umbrella. “Weren’t you picking up Yoo Mia?”

“She’s at home right now.”

“Then why did you…”

Yoo Jonghyuk said nothing, instead grabbing Kim Dokja’s wrist and pulling him upwards. Kim Dokja flailed around for a bit, surprised, before finally steadying himself.

“Okay, okay, I get it!”

He fell into step besides Yoo Jonghyuk, eyeing the bandages around his right hand—the same hand that was currently holding up the umbrella.

“Let me hold the umbrella. It’s the least I can do after…”

“I’m fine.”

“Yoo Jonghyuk, since when were you so gracious? Come on, I really can—”

Yoo Jonghyuk simply raised the umbrella higher up, taking advantage of the fact that he was slightly taller.

“Damn you, tall bastard…”

Kim Dokja swore Yoo Jonghyuk’s mouth quirked upwards smugly. 

“Anyway, you still haven’t answered my question. How did you find me?”

“... Han Sooyoung mentioned she saw you didn’t have an umbrella after class ended.”

Using Han Sooyoung as an excuse, huh? Kim Dokja crossed his arms. “Yoo Jonghyuk, you’re a bad liar.”

“Are you asking to be punched?”

“As if you’d be able to, with your hand…” Kim Dokja trailed off. Of course he wouldn’t be able to, because he’d used that hand to block an attack meant for him.

If Kim Dokja hadn’t gotten others involved, if he had been strong enough to handle things himself…

Yoo Jonghyuk’s hand holding the umbrella trembled. Taking the chance, Kim Dokja snatched the umbrella away from him and held it up so it didn’t hit Yoo Jonghyuk’s face.

“See, I can hold it fine. Don’t bother trying to take it from me!”

Yoo Jonghyuk looked at Kim Dokja for a long moment, before saying nothing and letting him hold the umbrella.

They made it back in one piece. Kim Dokja set the umbrella to dry in the foyer, before realizing he had never been in Yoo Jonghyuk’s home before.

“So.. just you and Yoo Mia live here?”

“Yes.”

“Where is Yoo Mia?” Kim Dokja said, taking his shoes off. 

“She’s taking a nap in her room right now.”

“I see.”

The conversation drew to an awkward silence. Kim Dokja tried to come up with something to say to fill the gap, but instead found Yoo Jonghyuk flinging clothes at home.

“The bathroom is down the hall, to the right. Take a warm shower and get changed.”

“Wait, no, just letting me wait out the rain at your house is enough, you don’t need—”

Yoo Jonghyuk stood in front of him, his jaw set. His stance plainly told Kim Dokja there was no room for discussion. Not wanting to cause anymore rouble for him, Kim Dokja sheepishly accepted the clothes and went to take a shower.

As he stood underneath the warm water pouring on his head, Kim Dokja felt a sense of comfort, safe from the icy rain outside. He looked at his body properly for the first time in a while, noticing faded bruises and scars.

He thought of the injuries on his companions’ bodies again and felt something ugly rear in his heart.

If he was stronger, he could’ve defended himself without anyone’s help. Why was he so frail? Of course, he didn’t eat that much, that was true, and he slept rather little, but all the same, he remembered his body being a bit more toned and larger. 

Kim Dokja blinked. Perhaps he was remembering it from a dream somewhere. It made no sense for him to remember things about himself that were obviously not true and had never happened. He was a 17-year-old high schooler, not some superhero in a novel.

Eventually he stepped out of the shower and dried himself off using the towel Yoo Jonghyuk had lent him. He changed into the clothes he’d been given—a black T-shirt that was definitely several sizes too large and gray sweatpants that were.. well, they stayed on and that was what mattered.

He folded his wet school uniform, resigning to wash it once he got back to his relatives’ house, and exited the bathroom.

Yoo Jonghyuk was sitting at the dining table, two plates next to him. A tender omelette over fried rice sat on each plate. Yoo Jonghyuk caught sight of Kim Dokja and something flickered on his face. It looked distinctly like amusement, which was unnerving on Yoo Jonghyuk’s face.

Kim Dokja groaned. “Don’t laugh. I told you I was fine just wearing my own school uniform.”

He shuffled around the counter, standing by the dining table. “Where’s Yoo Mia?”

“Still napping. I saved some of the omurice for her to eat when she wakes up.”

“Is it normal for someone of her age to be napping so much?”

“She had to wake up early today because her class had a field trip.”

That would make sense. Kim Dokja vaguely remembered his mother waking him up for field trips, back when…

He sighed. “Then, is this other plate of omurice for…”

Yoo Jonghyuk looked at Kim Dokja like he was stupid. “Yes, it’s for you. And give me your uniform.”

“What? What are you—”

Yoo Jonghyuk wrested Kim Dokja’s damp school uniform away from him and disappeared down the hallway. Kim Dokja heard the clothes rustling, then whirring as Yoo Jonghyuk started up the laundry machine.

“You—You didn’t need to—”

“Eat.” Yoo Jonghyuk came back, pushing the plate of omurice towards him.

Kim Dokja sat down in the chair. He picked up the spoon on the plate and carved out a part of the omelette. The aroma that drifted into the air as the soft fried part of the egg was revealed was delicious, and he took his first bite.

Before he realized, the omurice was gone. He licked his lips, savoring the remaining flavor.

Yoo Jonghyuk stared at him intently. His gaze somewhat reminded Kim Dokja of the way Han Sooyoung looked when she talked about her writing.

“... I think you already know what I think about your cooking.” Kim Dokja said.

Yoo Jonghyuk smirked, a triumphant look in his eyes.

“You can wipe that smug look off. I…” Kim Dokja looked at his empty plate, idly twirling the spoon around between his fingers. “Speaking of, why omurice? It’s not as healthy as most meals go.”

Yoo Jonghyuk reached over and collected Kim Dokja’s plate, stacking it on top of his own. “... I thought you might like it.”

Kim Dokja watched Yoo Jonghyuk as he retreated to the kitchen with the plates.

From blocking Song Minwoo’s attack at the cost of needing stitches, to lending him an umbrella, to letting him shower and change into warm clothes, to cooking omurice, which happened to be Kim Dokja’s favorite food.

All of this, and why? What had Kim Dokja ever done in return? He couldn’t push away their aid. He knew better than to run away.

But he still could not understand why, could not understand how to pay them back, how to begin to return the enormous debt he’d accrued.

Because of them, Kim Dokja’s life had veered wildly off the road paved for him. He could laugh and smile with people he considered friends, go on outings to amusement parks, eat warm meals with others, and live life like he wasn’t the victim of a sordid murder story.

His life felt so normal it disgusted him. Because he was Kim Dokja, a reader, who had survived off the story of a sole man’s despair, remorse, and dreams. He was no different from the constellations Yoo Jonghyuk hated in Ways of Survival, leeching off others in order to cling to life for another day.

Kim Dokja abruptly stood up and walked over to the laundry machine, his heart pounding. His body felt faint, as if it were going to crack open and reveal what ugly thing lurked inside. He saw that the laundry machine had finished its cycle and took the wet clothes out.

“What are you doing?” Yoo Jonghyuk asked. His voice was different. He sensed something was off.

Kim Dokja turned to him and smiled. “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome here. Thank you for everything you’ve done, Yoo J—”

Yoo Jonghyuk grabbed Kim Dokja’s shoulder, a frenzied light in his eyes. Kim Dokja froze, his uniform slipping out of his arms. He noticed the way Yoo Jonghyuk’s hand trembled, a pained expression on his face.

As if something he had found was about to slip away. Yoo Jonghyuk’s grip tightened.

“Don’t smile like that.”

Kim Dokja blinked a few times. “What?”

“That smile of yours… I’ve always detested it.”

“What do you mean—”

“Taking joy in the fact that you know something we don’t. Lying to us again and again.” Yoo Jonghyuk’s voice wavered, and Kim Dokja’s eyes widened as something seemed to pool in the corner of Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes.

“Throwing yourself away every time to repay a debt that no one accuses you of.” Yoo Jonghyuk eyes shook violently and he looked down, his hair falling in front of his face.

Speechless, Kim Dokja could only stare at Yoo Jonghyuk.

Was his heart really so open? The guilt he concealed in his chest, the debt he carried since the very first time they met. Perhaps even before that.

Kim Dokja carried a debt that had to be repaid. He knew it was something that went beyond treating his friends to ice cream or apologizing, something that went beyond helping them study. It was a debt that seemed to stretch into infinity, etching itself into the very fabric of the world.

Either way, it wasn’t something that Yoo Jonghyuk should concern himself with. Kim Dokja steeled himself and grabbed Yoo Jonghyuk’s hand.

“It isn’t your business.”

“How can it not be?!” Yoo Jonghyuk shouted.

Kim Dokja gritted his teeth. “Does every little thing about me have to concern you or anyone else? I already promised I wouldn’t run away from you guys. It’s not like I’m walling myself away from everyone or something.”

“You are. You always do. Because that wall protects you. Even if you don’t realize it, you keep that wall up.”

“Yoo Jonghyuk, I consider you a good friend. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Kim Dokja noticed Yoo Jonghyuk’s grip had loosened and wrenched his hand off his shoulder. “But I’d prefer it if you stopped assuming you knew so much about me.”

“You—”

Kim Dokja bent down and picked up his school uniform, gathering it in his arms. “We’ve only known each other for a few months.”

Yoo Jonghyuk stared at him, his eyes smoldering. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, before clenching it shut and looking away, a vein popping in his neck.

“Oppa? What’s happening?” Yoo Mia asked blearily, stumbling out into the living room and rubbing her eyes.

“Nothing much. I’ll be heading out now, then. Thank you again, Yoo Jonghyuk.” Kim Dokja stepped around Yoo Jonghyuk.

“Kim Dokja, you’re a fool.” Yoo Jonghyuk said, standing forlornly in that hallway.

As he opened the door and slung his schoolbag over his shoulder, Kim Dokja looked behind him and smiled wryly. “And you should look after your sister right now, not me.”

With that, he slammed the door shut behind him. Luckily, though the sky was darkening, the rain had stopped. Kim Dokja held the clothes close to his chest and walked away from that warm home, back to his house.

The withered leaves of summer crunched under his feet, and he thought in that moment that the dark sky after the rain reminded him of eternity, endless and heavy over his head.

Chapter Text

Soft sunlight poured through the subway train’s windows, settling over the boy alone in the carriage. Awash in the fading gold of the day, inky sketches and charts littered the snow-white notebook pages on his lap. After his pencil trailed a collection of meaningless things: complex power charts, crammed timelines, scribbles of characters. To anyone else, it was the illegible scrawls of a silly child. To that boy, it was his world.

The subway train rattled on, the hum of the car against the rails dissolving amidst the thoughts and dreams whirling through the boy’s mind. Each stroke of his pencil took apart the world he had come to love so much, twisting its laws in his favor, tying skills and scenarios and constellations together into the happy ending he always dreamt of.

Buildings passed by in a rush, telephone poles and greenery blurring through the train’s windows. The train and the dreaming boy within stopped for no one, not even to bask in the late afternoon warmth. Even so, the gentle swaying of the train soon caused the boy’s head to slump over, his eyes closing shut, his grip on his pencil loosening.

For once, he dreamed of nothing.

—

“I hope you know that you still owe use another hangout after this.” Jung Heewon slurped loudly from her cup. “Since your original promise was to get ice cream. ”

Kim Dokja grimaced, blowing on his scorching cup of hot chocolate. He didn’t know how Jung Heewon was inhaling her drink like it wasn’t scalding. “I’ll go with you on as many hangouts as you want. You don’t have to act like a debt collector.”

“Can we meet up again tomorrow then?” Lee Hyunsung piped up, his eyes sparkling.

“Hah, are you trying to meet up without me?” Jung Heewon said. “I have work tomorrow.”

Yoo Sangah giggled as Lee Hyunsung started panicking, throwing his hands up in dismay.

The four of them were seated around a table at a coffee shop, finally on the outing they had promised to have since summer. Rather than ice cream, however, they were nursing hot cups of coffee and cocoa to drive away the cold. 

As Jung Heewon ruffled Lee Hyunsung’s hair, Kim Dokja watched the chilly air outside whisk around the autumn leaves on the street and felt a pang in his chest.

“What’s wrong, Dokja-ssi?” Yoo Sangah asked, tilting her head in concern.

“He must’ve gotten dumped.” Jung Heewon teased.

There was a long pause. When Kim Dokja didn’t respond, Jung Heewon’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t tell me you actually got dumped?”

“Dokja-ssi, you were in a relationship?!” Lee Hyunsung gasped.

Kim Dokja opened his mouth to clarify he had not gotten dumped nor had he been in a relationship, but found himself cut off.

“Don’t tell me it was Han Sooyoung.” Jung Heewon scowled. “Or worse—Yoo Jonghyuk?”

“Both?” Yoo Sangah smiled serenely. 

“Dokja-ssi, two-timing is very bad!” Lee Hyunsung’s pupils shook.

“Maybe it’s a three—”

Kim Dokja spluttered on his drink, splashing hot chocolate on the table. “I’m not dating anyone! I never was! And I didn’t get dumped!” 

Yoo Sangah handed him a napkin. “Then what happened? We noticed you didn’t invite either of them to today’s hangout.”

“Yeah, considering you’re with those two all the time.” Jung Heewon muttered darkly.

“I don’t have to be with them all the time. Why would I have to invite them to today?” Kim Dokja swiped the napkin across his mouth, frowning. “Han Sooyoung’s probably passed out or updating one of her webnovels. Yoo Jonghyuk is probably… taking care of his sister.”

Ever since that day, Kim Dokja had been experiencing more strange things. He’d look in a mirror and see his reflection looked different—wrong. There were too many nights where he would wake with a start, still half asleep, sweat drenching his back and memories of whatever he dreamed about receding like ocean waves, retreating to a dark sea.

Together with the troubled feeling in his gut every time he thought about Yoo Jonghyuk, it was causing a slight headache in the back of his head.

To his relief, their conversation was interrupted by the bell ringing as the cafe’s door swung open. A familiar girl with her hair tied up in a ponytail walked in, bundled up under a fluffy autumn coat.

Jung Heewon’s head snapped towards the door. “Jihye?!”

Before Kim Dokja could ask how Jung Heewon knew her, Lee Jihye caught sight of them and bounded over excitedly.

“Heewon-unnie!” Lee Jihye threw her arms around the older girl. “What are you doing here?”

Jung Heewon smiled, patting her back. “Hanging out with some friends. What about you?”

“I’m here to pick up some desserts we ordered.” Lee Jihye started talking about some event, waving her hands around animatedly, even bowing a little bit to Yoo Sangah and Lee Hyunsung while ignoring Kim Dokja.

Kim Dokja awkwardly cleared his throat, and Lee Jihye acted as if she had just noticed him, which couldn’t possibly be true because they had made eye contact when she first entered the store.

“Oh, ahjussi. You’re here too.” Lee Jihye said, noticeably less excited. Kim Dokja suddenly remembered she was close with Yoo Jonghyuk.

“Have you been well?” He asked, trying to sound warm. And hopefully prevent Lee Jihye from bringing up anything incriminating.

“Of course.” She stepped back from Jung Heewon, putting her hands proudly on her hips. “I was on vacation with Na Bori during summer break, and we got placed into the same class again this semester, so it’s been great. DId you know…”

As Lee Jihye continued talking, Kim Dokja heard about things he had never known, like how Na Bori called her “crybaby” as a teasing nickname, or how Na Bori’s uniform was always missing a button, or how she had a weak heart and was easily afraid. 

Lee Jihye said Na Bori’s name joyfully and freely, like it wasn’t a memory to bear. It echoed in his head, an alien sensation digging into his skull. Kim Dokja stared at Lee Jihye, at the way her face couldn’t stop breaking into big smiles, the way her ponytail bounced carefreely as she chattered on about her friend.

“Na Bori sounds familiar.” Kim Dokja said, his head pounding. 

In his memories a girl sat with her head tilted towards the distant sky, looking for someone who she wanted desperately to see again. 

“You know Na Bori?” Lee Jihye said.

That girl, who was usually an energetic chatterbox, had sat alone with a sad expression on her face. Kim Dokja remembered sitting down next to her.

“You can talk to me any time. If you don’t want to talk to me, then it’ll be fine with someone else, too. But you don’t have to huddle in a corner and let it fester inside you.” Kim Dokja heard a voice say. 

Lee Jihye blinked rapidly at him. “What are you—am I not talking to you right now? Are you sick, ahjussi?”

“In the first scenario, don’t you remem—” Kim Dokja groaned, the pounding in his skull growing more persistent. Static buzzed in his head. 

“Dokja-ssi, are you alright—”

Somehow, this was important. He felt he had to say it, had to grab it without letting go. “What happened with Na Bori wasn’t your fault.”

Lee Jihye’s face flipped from confused to concerned to furious. “ What?! What do you mean—are you saying I did something to her?”

Yoo Sangah stood up, her mouth set in a thin line. “I think that’s enough.”

Kim Dokja clutched his head, fighting to keep his gaze on Lee Jihye. 

“I would never hurt Na Bori.” Lee Jihye’s eyes shone wetly, and she blinked, scrubbing at her face, confused as to why she was tearing up. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but there’s nothing ‘festering inside me. Everything is fine.’”

“I’m being serious—”

“Shut up!” Lee Jihye balled her hands into fists, trembling. “I don’t know what kind of prank this is, but I guess I know now why you and Master haven’t been talking. You jerk.”

She went to the counter, picked up her takeout bag in front of the shocked barista, and stomped out of the shop, the door slamming shut behind her.

The coffee shop was silent.

”What the hell was that?” Jung Heewon said, her eyes narrowed.

Kim Dokja’s mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. “Um—”

“Dokja-ssi, are you okay? You’ve been clutching your head the whole time.” Yoo Sangah said, her gaze a little sad.

“Why are you asking if he’s okay? He just made Lee Jihye cry!” Jung Heewon glared at him.

“I don’t think he meant to…” Lee Hyunsung said meekly.

Kim Dokja’s headache had receded enough for him to take his hand off, but he remained staring at the table. 

“I—I don’t know. I don’t know what came over me.” He confessed. It was the truth. He couldn’t understand anything he had just told Lee Jihye, nor make sense of what he had been thinking just moments ago.

All he knew now was that he had made an innocent girl cry. 

Silence fell over them, uncomfortable and heavy.

“I agree with Hyunsung-ssi. I truly don’t think he meant any harm.” Yoo Sangah said, her voice a gentle reprieve in that horrible silence.

“That doesn’t excuse what he said.” Jung Heewon. “What were you even babbling about? What first scenario? And what ‘happened with Na Bori?’”

Oh, that was right.

Lee Jihye’s character look-alike had strangled her best friend, Na Bori, in order to survive the first scenario in Daepong Girls’ High School. Kim Dokja had barely remembered the name because it happened so early on in the novel, as an introduction to the horror of the scenarios caused by the dokkaebis. 

How strange. Kim Dokja had gotten used to the weird coincidentally matching names between his companions and his favorite web novel, but even he had to admit it was getting weird. Was it supposed to be like this?

And what was with him, mistaking a webnovel for reality?

“Na Bori is a character in the webnovel I read.” Kim Dokja’s face colored with shame. Saying it aloud, he realized how ridiculous he was being. Perhaps the weird hallucinations and dreams he could barely remember having were also a result of getting too obsessed with Ways of Survival. “I probably… should sleep more.”

“You—you thought her friend was from a webnovel?!” Jung Heewon cried in disbelief.

Yoo Sangah gently rapped her knuckles on the side of his head, stirring him out of his thoughts. “Let’s not worry about that for now. Just make sure to apologize to her later, okay?” Yoo Sangah’s eyes darted to his phone. “And try to read less web novels.”

”I’m sorry, seriously.”

”Say that to Lee Jihye, not us!” Jung Heewon leaned back, crossing her arms. 

”Also, I was wondering—she said you and Yoo Jonghyuk haven’t been talking?” Yoo Sangah put a hand over his, her large brown eyes questioning.

”That Master she talks about is Yoo Jonghyuk ?!” Jung Heewon shouted. Lee Hyunsung tapped her shoulder and whispered something to her, and she continued on, more quietly, “she’s one of my kendo students and she always mentions some ‘Master.’”

It was times like these Kim Dokja really wished Yoo Sangah didn’t know as much as she did. But of course, because she knew Yoo Jonghyuk and even played on the same esports team as him, she probably also knew of Lee Jihye. So of course she would know that ‘Master’ was Yoo Jonghyuk.

Kim Dokja shuffled awkwardly. “I… we got into a fight.”

”So you get dumped then?” Lee Hyunsung asked earnestly.

“What happened? I thought you guys were really getting it on. I mean getting along. Is this why you’re taking on your rage on innocent middle schoolers with best friends?”

Kim Dokja considered murdering Jung Heewon then and there. 

“Let him speak.” Yoo Sangah sighed. “This is important.”

Kim Dokja bit his lip. “I’ll hang out with you guys whenever you want for the next week if you don’t ask any questions.”

”Deal.” Jung Heewon said. “But you better apologize to Jihye.”

Yoo Sangah blinked at him in exasperation. “Dokja-ssi, you can’t just..”

”Deal!” Lee Hyunsung said.

Yoo Sangah groaned. Kim Dokja smiled. “Just for now, Sangah-ssi?”

”… Deal. Don’t forget to apologize to Lee Jihye-ssi.”

—

When a familiar, tall figure walked into class the next day, Kim Dokja resolutely looked at the very interesting wood grain of his desk.

He sensed the way Yoo Jonghyuk stalled a little bit as he walked by Kim Dokja’s desk, but the moment passed instantly and Kim Dokja let out a relieved exhale.

”What was that?” Han Sooyoung asked, seated next to him like usual.

”What was what?”

”That.” She gestured vaguely with the lollipop in her hand. “A tall, dark, and unfortunately handsome storm just passed by.”

“That’s quite romantic of you,” Kim Dokja said, narrowly avoiding Han Sooyoung’s hand chop.

“You know what I mean. Yoo Jonghyuk was staring at you the whole time he walked by.” Han Sooyoung said. “Did you dishonor his whole bloodline or something?”

Kim Dokja sighed. “We had a fight.”

Han Sooyoung’s eyebrows shot into her forehead. “And neither of you told me?!”

“Why would we?”

She snorted. “Way to make me feel like an abandoned food processor.”

”… What?”

”Anyway, what’d you fight over?”

“Han Sooyoung-ssi, Kim Dokja-ssi, please pay attention,” the teacher at the front of the class said.

Han Sooyoung rolled her eyes and turned back to face the teacher. The two of them spent the rest of the class not listening, with Han Sooyoung completely passed out, hidden behind her book, and Kim Dokja zoning out at the blackboard.

When lunch rolled around and they made their way to the rooftop, Yoo Jonghyuk was nowhere to be seen. The anxiety and tension in Kim Dokja’s chest released, leaving behind a faint disappointment.

”You need to answer my question,” Han Sooyoung said, prodding Kim Dokja’s shoe with hers as she dug into her food.

Kim Dokja bit into some convenience store kimbap. “I forgot what it was.”

”No you didn’t.”

”It wasn’t a big fight or anything.” Kim Dokja took another bite of his cold, slightly soggy lunch.

”That expression on your face says otherwise.”

Kim Dokja immediately was aware of how heavy his face felt, and schooled it into a more neutral expression. “It’s not anything serious.”

”You look like a sad husband, having to eat crappy store-bought food because your wife is mad at you and won’t cook lunch.”

Kim Dokja choked on a clump of rice. “Okay, first of all, Yoo Jonghyuk is not my wife, second of all, he doesn’t cook lunch for me and the way you said—“

”Who was talking about Yoo Jonghyuk?” Han Sooyoung interrupted snidely.

“Who else could you be referring to?!” Kim Dokja said, coughing.

”Dunno. Maybe I was just making a funny metaphor. You’re the one who related it to Yoo Jonghyuk.”

”Han Sooyoung, you seriously—“ Kim Dokja was cut off by another series of coughs.

”Maybe stop choking on your kimbap before you respond. Here, you can have my tteokbokki instead.”

Han Sooyoung pushed some of her food towards Kim Dokja, waiting for him to stop choking.

”… Thank you.”

”But I’m serious. What happened?” Han Sooyoung asked, pointing her chopsticks at him.

Kim Dokja stared at the tteokbokki like it held the answers to the universe in it. 

”You have to tell me at some point, you know. When did this even happen?”

He shuffled uncomfortably. ”It was last week, when it rained after school.”

“Don’t tell me you forgot your umbrella, and then Yoo Jonghyuk walked up next to you and offered to share his, and then you guys had a romantic walk, and then he confessed his heartfelt—“

”What is with you and thinking Yoo Jonghyuk and I are a couple?!” Kim Dokja demanded.

Han Sooyoung giggled, her sharp eyes crinkling. “You get really bothered over it. It’s fun to see you wiggling around like a helpless worm.” She popped a slice of cucumber into her mouth. “Plus, consider it payback for when you thought I was dating him .” She shuddered.

Kim Dokja leaned back. He was never going to have a moment of peace with these people.

”Well, you’re not completely wrong. I actually did forget my umbrella.”

Han Sooyoung dropped her chopsticks. “So did you guys actually have a lovers’ spat?!“

”No! Why does everyone think we’re together?! I ran through the rain to a bus stop and was waiting there when he found me and let me stay at his place until the rain stopped, since it was nearby.”

Han Sooyoung’s eyes practically bulged out of her head. “I don’t even need to do anything. You just go ahead and incriminate yourself.”

”It wasn’t—“ Kim Dokja flung a tteokbokki at Han Sooyoung, who dodged it. “Anyway, then he offered to wash my clothes and cooked me omurice and I.. got mad.” Kim Dokja mumbled sheepishly, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.

“You’re telling me that guy, who famously hates cooking for anyone besides his family, let you stay at his place, offered to wash your clothes, cooked you omurice, and you got mad .”

”Yes.” Kim Dokja said meekly.

It was Han Sooyoung’s turn to fling a tteokbokki at him. “Are you stupid? I hope you only eat convenience store kimbap for the rest of your life!”

Kim Dokja flinched as the tteokbokki whizzed by. “I just don’t get it. I’ve been nothing but trouble and he—no, all of you, keep taking care of me. Isn’t it so—“ he gritted his teeth. “Awful?” 

At that word, the rooftop grew silent. Any trace of teasing or laughter left Han Sooyoung’s face. Her gaze was a little watery as she put her chopsticks down. The sight made Kim Dokja’s heart lurch, and he mentally scrambled to think of what to say to lift the atmosphere.

When she finally spoke, her voice was deathly quiet under the endless indigo above. 

”Not to us. Not if it’s you.” 

Han Sooyoung’s mouth settled into a firm line. She looked at him with a gaze as clear as the sky, as if staring straight into his soul, through Kim Dokja’s slightly askew school uniform and name tag, at someone else.

Unsettled, Kim Dokja laughed awkwardly. “I didn’t really mean it, I was just—“

”I don’t know why you still haven’t gotten it through that thick skull of yours yet.” Han Sooyoung curled and uncurled her small hands. “But it’s fine. Because we’ll be by your side no matter what, so take as long as you need to understand.”

For a moment, her eye bags seemed prominent, and Kim Dokja was reminded of how Han Sooyoung often slept in class. His heart hurt a little bit, but he wasn’t exactly certain why. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, not knowing what else to say.

Han Sooyoung snorted, an obnoxious noise permeating through the air. Just like that, the spell was broken. 

“Tell that to Yoo Jonghyuk.” She smirked at him.

And Lee Jihye, Kim Dokja mentally added with a wince.

”Yeah.”

—

Unfortunately, Kim Dokja failed to apologize to Yoo Jonghyuk that day. And the next. And the day after.

The weak resolve Kim Dokja managed to build up each time was shattered instantly by the way Yoo Jonghyuk would glare at him or walk straight past his outstretched hand. 

At that point, Kim Dokja reasoned that maybe the best apology he could give Yoo Jonghyuk was to stay out of his way.

Instead, he found himself dragged out quite literally every day after school that week, the others making good on his hasty promise. Lee Hyunsung asked him to come with him to the gym one time, where Kim Dokja was forced to come to terms with how weak he was as Lee Hyunsung cheerfully benched twice his body weight. Yoo Sangah made him come cycling with her, and thankfully didn’t ask any questions about Yoo Jonghyuk as Kim Dokja huffed and puffed his way uphill behind her on his bike. 

So when Jung Heewon told him to meet her at the train station Sunday morning bright and early, he expected it.

What he didn’t expect was for Han Sooyoung to also be there, bickering with Jung Heewon right next to the station. 

”I didn’t ask for you to tag along!” Jung Heewon growled.

“I’m friends with him as well, so why can’t I?”

” We aren’t friends.”

”Haven’t you heard of friends by association?”

“Hello?” Kim Dokja finally said.

The two of them swung their heads around to face him.

”Dokja-ssi, your taste in people is horrendous.” Jung Heewon crossed her arms.

”Can you not phrase it like that?” Han Sooyoung complained. “Besides, aren’t you his friend too?!”

”I’m not a psychopathic monster like you are!”

“Oh, please! All I did was make Lee Hyunsung cry one time, and it was an accident.” 

“Do you hear yourself?!”

”… Han Sooyoung, how’d you even wake up this early?” Kim Dokja interrupted, noticing they were about to get into a legitimate fistfight. “I thought you would spend your weekend sleeping in.”

Han Sooyoung scratched her head. She coughed, unnaturally awkward. “Actually, Yoo Sangah told me you guys were hanging out and I wanted to come.”

Jung Heewon gawked at her. “Why would Sangah-ssi tell you that—“ she closed her eyes and groaned. “Nevermind, she’s always been way too nice to you.”

”What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I don’t see an issue with Han Sooyoung coming.” Kim Dokja said.

”Well, I do. I don’t want to have to hang out with this brat on my day off.”

Han Sooyoung looked between them, then tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Have you heard about what’s going on between him and Yoo Jonghyuk recently?”

“I see an issue with Han Sooyoung coming.” Kim Dokja immediately said.

”You know what happened with him and Yoo Jonghyuk? He refuses to tell us.” Jung Heewon’s eyes lit up, ignoring him.

”Definitely more than you do, from the looks of it.” Han Sooyoung smirked.

Her curiosity clearly having won out, Jung Heewon relented, to Kim Dokja’s horror. “Fine, let’s all go together.”

“Does my input mean nothing?” Kim Dokja despaired.

—

The two girls immediately seemed to have put their grievances behind them, allying behind the flag of bullying Kim Dokja.

”So are he and Yoo Jonghyuk actually a couple or something? Why are they arguing every other week?” Jung Heewon asked as they got off the train.

”Beats me! They don’t seem to get along at all but at the same time, they keep finding each other.”

”I’m right here.” Kim Dokja commented, knowing it was useless.

“Oh, the high schooler who bullies middle schoolers is speaking up!” Han Sooyoung crowed. 

Kim Dokja deeply regretted letting the two of them talk. The moment they had gotten on the train, they had begun trading stories about Kim Dokja. Thus, Han Sooyoung was now aware of the coffee shop fiasco, and Jung Heewon knew everything he told Han Sooyoung about his argument with Yoo Jonghyuk.

”Look, I just haven’t gotten the opportunity to apologize to either of them yet, okay?”

”Aren’t you in the same class as him?” Jung Heewon asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“He keeps ignoring me.” Kim Dokja said petulantly.

”Oh, I would too if I were him.”

”Can we drop this?!” Kim Dokja begged. “Why are we at the mall, anyway?”

They walked through the glass doors of the giant shopping mall Jung Heewon had led them to. The moment they entered, Kim Dokja was blasted with colorful advertisements flickering across huge screens, children screaming in the distance, and shop attendants yelling about huge discounts. Bright fluorescent white lights shined above crowds of shoppers going up and down escalators.

”I want to buy some stuff.” Jung Heewon said, immediately turning left into a huge clothing store.

The entire mall was like a maze to Kim Dokja, who was quickly realizing the small stores his mother had taken him to when he was younger were nothing at all like this facility. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever gone shopping—it just wasn’t something he needed or had the time and money for. He was pretty sure he still didn’t have the time or money, but he didn’t want to disappoint Jung Heewon, and it wasn’t like he was going to buy anything.

Racks and racks of clothes filled the store, from frilly dresses to chunky sweatpants. Jung Heewon, however, made a beeline past them straight to the—

“Did you really need to bring me along?!” Kim Dokja said shrilly as she walked into the women’s underwear section. Han Sooyoung followed along behind them, laughing way harder than she needed to.

”I mean, I’ve been needing to buy some new ones for a bit.” Jung Heewon said, quite seriously.

”That’s not the point!” Kim Dokja’s face flushed as an older woman shot him a dirty look, and he decided the best thing to do was to keep his eyes glued to the ground as he trailed behind his tormentor.

Jung Heewon stopped, and Kim Dokja crashed into a rack of bras. The rack nearly fell over, if not for Jung Heewon steadying it with a hand. When Kim Dokja dared to look up, Jung Heewon’s face looked like she was about to explode from holding back her laughter.

”Sorry, I didn’t know you cared that much. You guys can wait for me outside if you want.”

Kim Dokja hightailed out of there, Han Sooyoung cackling behind him. 

“I had no idea you were such a pure kid.” Han Sooyoung wheezed.

”Aren’t we the same age?!” Kim Dokja protested, whipping around as they stopped in the coats section.

Han Sooyoung blinked. “Oh, right.”

”Unless you’re secretly an old hag in disguise, which would match your horrific, evil personality.” Kim Dokja sniffed.

”I have a fantastic personality, actually.” Han Sooyoung laughed awkwardly. 

Kim Dokja frowned at her, but Han Sooyoung smoothly brushed past him towards one of the coats.

“You should try this on!” She snorted, holding up a radioactive-looking green fur coat with purple sequins around the trim. It looked grotesque.

“I can’t believe someone actually designed that and then created it.” Kim Dokja reached a hand out to touch the fur coat, feeling the itchy fur and curling his lip in disgust.

”I think it suits you.” Han Sooyoung said sweetly.

”Oh, but since it caught your eye, I think you and the radioactive coat are fated to be.” Kim Dokja fired back.

Han Sooyoung sputtered angrily, and Kim Dokja chuckled. As she turned around to put the atrocious coat back on the rack, his eyes landed on a coat next to it.

”I’m gonna go find that blockhead Jung Heewon. Don’t move,” Han Sooyoung said.

Kim Dokja turned his nose up at her. “I’m not a child, contrary to popular belief.”

Han Sooyoung shrugged, turning away and stalking off between the rows of clothes.

Meanwhile, Kim Dokja reached out and took out the coat that had caught his eye. It was white, with long sleeves and a trailing back that fluttered imperceptibly to the ghost of a breeze. It had a simple yet clean design, and the inside was lined with functional inner pockets. The tag on the back said “Made by Mass Production Maker,” which made Kim Dokja snort.

He shrugged the coat on, admiring himself in the mirror. It hung a little large on him and pooled around his ankles, barely above the ground. Still, it sat comfortably over his shoulders, like an old friend wrapping its arm around him in greeting. 

Kim Dokja instinctively jammed his hands into the pockets as he spun around in the mirror, but was met with empty air. Confused, he dragged his gaze away from the mirror and down to the inner coat pockets.

He pushed his hands deeper into the pockets, but his fingers continued to grasp nothing. He dug deeper, until almost his entire forearm was in the pockets, but nothing but empty space surrounded his hands. 

How deep were these pockets supposed to be, exactly?

”Oh, there he is!”

 Kim Dokja stopped his endless pocket digging to catch sight of Jung Heewon and Han Sooyoung walking over.

“Do you like that coat?” Jung Heewon said, hoisting her shopping bag into the crook of her elbow. “If you want, we can buy it.”

”Oh, no, it’s fine.” Kim Dokja said quickly, pulling his hands out of the pockets. “I was just bored.”

”Are you sure?” 

“Yep.” Kim Dokja shrugged the coat off, draping it back over the clothing hanger and hooking it onto the rack. He had no need for a coat with bottomless pockets, anyway. What kind of things would he even put in there?

Han Sooyoung’s eyes snapped from the coat back up to Kim Dokja’s face. Her expression was a little whiter than usual. 

“Yeah, the coat looks dumb on you anyway.” She muttered, sounding a little lost in thought. 

Shopping bags in hand, the three of them walked out of the clothing store. When Kim Dokja craned his neck to take one last look at the odd coat, it had disappeared from the rack.

Deciding not to think any more of it and focus on enjoying his time with Jung Heewon and Han Sooyoung, he dispelled it from his memory just as Jung Heewon proceeded to lead them into a cosmetics store.

At some point during the journey, he had been turned into the designated bag holder, lugging Jung Heewon’s shopping bag about as Han Sooyoung and Jung Heewon resumed bickering over random nonsense.

Ignoring them, Kim Dokja wandered off on his own, his nostrils flooded by the sharp scent of beauty products and various powders. Somehow, he found himself looking at a moisturizer, intended to preserve humidity and keep the skin soft and moist.

He absentmindedly reached up to feel his own cheek, dry skin rough under his fingers. His lips were also dry, cracking and chapped in the cold weather. Kim Dokja looked at the small cutout of some actress beaming at him, holding the moisturizer in her hands as her skin glistened under the store lights.

While it was probably photoshopped and edited to achieve such a sheen, he thought about Yoo Sangah, whose face was both delicate and soft, with smooth lips that didn’t crack in multiple different places as skin started to peel off from how dry they were.

Yes, such a thing might help salvage his reputation. It might even help him become popular with other the students. Kim Dokja nodded to himself and reached for a bottle of the moisturizer. 

He eyed the price tag and immediately set it back down, even as the dry skin on the back of his hands screamed at him.

“Are you trying to be an idol?” 

Kim Dokja whipped around, nearly ramming his elbow into Yoo Jonghyuk, who was glaring at him with his arms crossed. 

He stared at him. “What?”

Yoo Jonghyuk stood stiffly, then tiled his head at the moisturizer. ”Why are you looking at useless things?”

Kim Dokja flushed, then furrowed his eyebrows at Yoo Jonghyuk. “My skin becomes dry quickly in cold weather.” He squinted and noticed Yoo Jonghyuk’s lips and hands. “Your skin is also dry.”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyebrows twitched like he was angry. “So?”

“Why are you here, anyway?” Kim Dokja asked. “I—I thought you didn’t want to speak to me.” He cursed inwardly at the stutter.

The other boy gritted his teeth. “I’m with Yoo Mia.”

Kim Dokja bent and tried to look past Yoo Jonghyuk, but his younger sister was nowhere to be seen. “Where is she?”

“Off to get…” Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes darted to the side. “… Moisturizer.”

”But the moisturizers are right here? And didn’t you just say they were useless?“

Yoo Jonghyuk spun around, meaning to walk away. Kim Dokja realized the opportunity he’d been looking for all week was slipping through his fingers and dove forward, grabbing Yoo Jonghyuk’s arm.

The other boy was wearing all black, like usual emo bastard he was, but Kim Dokja could still feel the way he tensed underneath the fabric. His forearm was built, muscles rippling subtly under Kim Dokja’s hand.

If Yoo Jonghyuk wanted to leave right now, he could easily wrench his arm out of his grasp and 15-year-old Kim Dokja didn’t really have a way to stop him. For a moment, fear tangled around his heart. If Yoo Jonghyuk really left now…

”Yoo Jonghyuk.” Kim Dokja said, his mouth suddenly dry.

The other boy didn’t turn to face him.

”I’m sorry for that day. I shouldn’t have yelled at you after all you did for me.” Kim Dokja said, rapidly aware they were starting to cause a commotion in the store. Still, he didn’t let go of Yoo Jonghyuk’s arm. “I won’t take the kindness you’ve shown me for granted.”

Yoo Jonghyuk looked over his shoulder, back at Kim Dokja. Something in his face stirred, in a way that made Kim Dokja’s heart sink. 

“You’re a fool,” he muttered, before pulling his arm out of Kim Dokja’s grasp and walking away, lost between the shelves of cosmetics and products.

“Did he just get dumped?” Someone mumbled. Kim Dokja resisted the urge to go find and violently shake that person. 

He gave up on the moisturizer, dragging himself out of the cosmetics store and deciding to wait for Jung Heewon and Han Sooyoung by the entrance of the store. 

Kim Dokja didn’t understand. He knew what he had done wrong. He had apologized. Why hadn’t Yoo Jonghyuk been happy? The more Kim Dokja thought about it, the more he felt his chest boil hotly, and he sank down, crouching over the shopping bags in front of him as he crossed his arms over his head.

What should he have said, then? Why couldn’t things flow like he expected them to? 

For a few horrible moments, Kim Dokja thought about how much easier it would be if everything were a novel. The Yoo Jonghyuk in Ways of Survival surely would have accepted that apology and continue to focus on his goal: clearing the scenarios. 

But everything was different here. People reacted in unsettling, confusing, and surprising ways. People smiled and laughed when he overstepped and caused trouble, then called him stupid and an idiot and a fool for apologizing, even though everything had been his fault, from the very beginning, and all he wanted to do was make amends.

To say sorry, no matter what it took.

It was as if they were trying to tell him he had nothing to be sorry about. It bubbled up in his head, like a swirl of jagged stars and dark water making his thoughts murky. He was drowning again, trying so hard to understand the kindness they were extending to him and getting it wrong every single time.

”Ugly squid ahjussi.”

Kim Dokja’s head snapped up. Yoo Mia was standing over him, her long pigtails dangling above his face.

He instinctively looked around for her brother, but he was nowhere to be seen.

”If you’re looking for my brother, you won’t find him. He doesn’t want to see you right now.”

”Ah.” Kim Dokja said, embarrassed at being caught.

”But he wanted me to give you this.” Yoo Mia took the little shopping bag hanging off her arm off, handing it resolutely to him. 

Kim Dokja accepted it, still a little confused. He went to open it and see what was inside, but was stopped with a flick to the forehead.

Yoo Mia looked extremely unimpressed. “Don’t open it right now. Just thank me later.”

”Wait, what—“

”Bye, ugly squid ahjussi! I better see you later or else!” Yoo Mia called, already running off.

As she disappeared around the corner of another store, Kim Dokja blinked after her, perplexed. 

“Was that Yoo Mia?” Han Sooyoung asked, walking out of the store with Jung Heewon.

”I heard people saying someone got dumped?” Jung Heewon said, new bags on her arm that she then proceeded to give to Kim Dokja.

”You heard wrong.” Kim Dokja grumbled, Jung Heewon laughing a little at him. 

“Why was Yoo Mia here? Does that mean you saw Yoo Jonghyuk?” Han Sooyoung demanded.

“She said he wanted her to give me something and not to open it right now. And then threatened me a bit, as usual.” Kim Dokja said.

”So did you see Yoo Jonghyuk or not?” Han Sooyoung jammed her fingers into his side when he continued to not respond.

”I saw him, I saw him!” Kim Dokja groaned. “I tried to apologize too.”

”And?”

”He got mad and called me a fool and then left.”

”Wow, you suck at this.”

Kim Dokja resisted the urge to scream. “What am I supposed to do?! That guy is always angry or constipated.”

”And it’s usually because of you.” Han Sooyoung shrugged. Jung Heewon nodded in agreement.

”Whatever! Let’s just get food. Please?” Kim Dokja tried. For once, the other two took pity on him as his stomach rumbled.

A bit later, as they sat over their steaming ramyeon, Han Sooyoung prodded him to open the bag. Inside were only two things: moisturizer and a ticket of some kind.

Han Sooyoung laughed so hard soup came out of her nose. She choked for a bit, then waggled her eyebrows at him. ”Is he telling you to, like—“

”No.” Kim Dokja said firmly, a strange mix of emotions in his chest.

“Then what is it?”

“This is… the moisturizer I was looking at when he confronted me.” 

”How much is it? There’s no receipt.” Jung Heewon asked.

Kim Dokja mumbled out the price and Jung Heewon’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. 

“I didn’t know Yoo Jonghyuk was that rich?!”

Han Sooyoung rolled her eyes like she expected it. “You could’ve just asked me. I would’ve bought it for you.” But even as she spoke, a note of relief underlined her words.

”Maybe he isn’t mad at you, then.” Jung Heewon commented. “What’s the other thing?”

Kim Dokja carefully took out the slip of paper. It simply read a date, time, and location, and scrolled in Yoo Jonghyuk’s uniquely horrible handwriting: Come to our final game.

”What game?” Kim Dokja frowned.

Han Sooyoung leaned over. “Oh, it’s their esports game. Yoo Sangah said they reached the finals for some tournament, so the game is actually being held in a venue. She said there’d be game demos and food or something before the actual game starts too.”

Jung Heewon raised an eyebrow at her. “You seem very informed about whatever Yoo Sangah-ssi is doing. Even I didn’t know their finals were going to be live.”

Han Sooyoung scowled, but no one missed how red her ears were. “We get along. I doubt it’s anything really exciting, anyway.” 

”Oh, you weren’t going to go?” Jung Heewon smirked. “Don’t you want to support Yoo Sangah-ssi?”

“I—I was. Thinking about it.” Han Sooyoung growled. “Anyway, if you go I’ll go with you.” She looked pointedly at Kim Dokja.

”I think Hyunsung-ssi might be free that day too. You guys should ask him too. And whoever else is free.” Jung Heewon said.

”Aren’t you coming?” Kim Dokja asked.

”I have work that day.” Jung Heewon yawned.

Kim Dokja held the slightly crumpled piece of paper in his hands, rereading the blocky handwriting and looking at the moisturizer sitting still in the bag.

“I’ll go.” He finally said.

—

Yoo Mia stood in the subway with her brother. They were hurtling through a tunnel, the outside world dark. She stared at their reflection against the pitch-black windows.

”Orabeoni.” Yoo Mia said, as the subway train hurtled through the underground tunnel.

Yoo Jonghyuk looked down at her. It was a term she only used when she sincerely wanted something from him, more than anything.

”You like that ugly squid ahjussi.”

His eyebrows twitched, but before he could open his mouth Yoo Mia shushed him.

”Since you like him, you have to be patient with him. You have to tell him in a way he understands, lots and lots of times. And maybe then, it might still not be enough.”

Yoo Mia reached up and grabbed her brother’s hand, her small fingers wrapped around his larger, scarred ones. 

Her grip on his hand tightened as he stared at her, his eyes shaking violently. One dark gaze met another. A silent question passed between them, written in the twist of Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyebrows and the set of his jaw.

Yoo Mia opened her mouth. “Because he’s stupid, obviously.”

The two of them watched as the dark tunnel gave way to blinding light, the sky a darkening gray. The subway train suddenly felt too loud. Too familiar.

Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyelids solemnly lowered, his eyelashes casting long shadows over his cheeks. For a moment, he seemed much older than 15. Yoo Mia looked at her older brother, then patted his hand gently.

”Let’s finish this and go back home.”

—

Jung Heewon took a different subway line home, so they bid goodbye as night started to creep into the sky.

”Hey, can you ask Lee Jihye if she can come to the e-sports game? I want to apologize to her then.” Kim Dokja said.

Jung Heewon crossed her arms and shook her head. Kim Dokja’s heart sank, until she said, “In what world would Lee Jihye miss her idol’s game finals? She’ll definitely be there.” Seeing how Kim Dokja still looked anxious, she added, “but I’ll ask her just to make sure. And I won’t mention you.”

He wondered how he could ever give back to Jung Heewon everything she had done for him, and could only bow in thanks. Jung Heewon slapped his shoulder.

”Get up! Don’t bow, that’s awkward!”

”Sorry—“

”And stop apologizing. I’ll see you at school, Dokja-ssi!”

After she left, Han Sooyoung and Kim Dokja boarded the same train. Luckily, there weren’t too many people in the subway, and the two of them sat down next to each other.

As they sat and the announcements rang over the train’s intercom, Kim Dokja felt a sense of calm. It was comfortable here, in a way that made him feel like never getting up again. He didn’t know if he liked that or not.

”So what’s on your mind now?” Han Sooyoung said.

Kim Dokja jolted next to her. “What?”

”Your thinking is so loud I can hear it. What kind of idiotic things are you thinking of now?” Han Sooyoung turned towards him, resting her chin on her palm.

”I’m thinking about these… weird hallucinations I’ve been having,” he admitted.

Han Sooyoung regarded him carefully. “What do you mean?”

“You’re going to think I’m insane.”

”I already think you need to go to a mental asylum.”

Kim Dokja rolled his eyes, then decided to say it anyway. “Sometimes I’ll think that you guys look like the characters in my web novel that I read.”

Han Sooyoung blinked a few times, then slowly tilted her head. “I remember seeing a few pages of that. The writing was really bad.”

Kim Dokja punched her lightly, only to get violently tasered in response. “Well, the thing is, a lot of you guys have the same name as characters in there.” He massaged his ribs, wincing.

”Am I in there?”

”.. You’re one of the few who isn’t.”

Han Sooyoung sniffed triumphantly. “Good.”

”But I’ve started remembering things that definitely didn’t happen. Like, the reason I hurt Lee Jihye was because I thought her best friend was…” Kim Dokja trailed off, embarrassed at the memory. 

What had he been thinking then? They lived in a normal world, not the apocalypse in Ways of Survival . Na Bori was alive and well here.

”You thought she was dead?” Han Sooyoung finished.

”Yes.”

”What else?”

Kim Dokja was surprised. “You’re taking me surprisingly seriously.”

Han Sooyoung patted his arm. “I’m recording everything you say to be sent to a mental asylum so you can get admitted.”

Kim Dokja frowned at her.

”I’m just kidding. Go on.”

”I’ve also started seeing weird things about myself. Or experiencing weird things. I saw myself with.. horns and wings, like I was some kind of demon. And I keep feeling like everything’s.. wrong.”

It felt strange to voice it out loud. It was something he had been unable to say properly for a long time, but in front of Han Sooyoung, he somehow was able to put words to the strange experiences he’d been having.

Han Sooyoung’s face was surprisingly calm. Kim Dokja fidgeted nervously. 

“What do you mean, everything’s wrong?” Her eyes were sharp, glinting under the train’s lights.

Kim Dokja swallowed. Han Sooyoung was usually the person he schemed with, snickering about something or making fun of Yoo Jonghyuk with. Her eyes were always curved into a wicked grin or something similar. Even when they had serious conversations, she would peter off into a bout of laughter or mockery soon enough. Whenever she was like this, focused on picking him apart, completely serious, it felt as though there was always something more at stake. Something that Kim Dokja didn’t know.

It scared him, but he continued. ”I don’t know. I’ve done so many things wrong. I’ve hurt and inconvenienced a lot of people. But even so, I keep experiencing a lot of fun, precious moments.”

”Do you think you deserve to experience horrible things, then? Even though you definitely aren’t at fault for any of the things you keep talking about?” 

Kim Dokja clasped his hands together, thinking sincerely. He thought of his companions, their faces flashing in his mind. How each and every one of them had, in their own way, tried to tell him it was okay. How he had only recently started wondering if they were talking about the same thing.

Seeing Kim Dokja lost in thought, Han Sooyoung spoke again. “What are you thinking about now?”

“I don’t know. I just feel that… this wasn’t how the story went.” Kim Dokja suddenly felt awash with a wave of exhaustion, sleep pulling insistently at his eyelids. He yawned.

“… How should the story go, then?”

For a long time, he had a good idea of how things would go for someone like him. He had planned it out, sketched on his notebooks, ripped the pencil away from the author and orchestrated a never-ending happy ending for the story he loved so much.

But now, as he smelled lemons and felt a soft purple hoodie under his cheek, short hair tickling his head, he wanted to ask her something. 

Kim Dokja’s voice labored to come out. Even summoning the strength to pronounce one word seemed impossible.  

“Kim Dokja, tell me. If you could have any ending you wanted, any ending in the world, what ending would you want?”

He watched the stars flow by the subway window. He wanted to ask Han Sooyoung why her voice was trembling, why she seemed afraid of the answer to her own question. 

Instead, the train hurtled forward, and his body felt weightless within it. The handles swung back and forth from the ceiling in an endless cycle, and darkness shrouded the train. Kim Dokja would’ve looked at his reflection in the window, but he was so tired.

All he could think about now was the shuddering of the train’s wheels, the gentle sway of the cart back and forth. It was so quiet. Was the train even headed anywhere?

Did he even care?

It was peaceful here. No one would find him here. That was how he wanted it to be.

⸢ Kim Dokja didn’t care if… (Idiot!)… this train would ever reach its destination. ⸥

⸢ Kim Dokja didn’t… (Idiot, get up)… think about… anything. ⸥

The train seemed so still on the inside, despite how much it was moving outside. Perhaps he had grown so accustomed to the rhythmic motion of the cart that it no longer was something he took notice of. 

⸢ Kim Dokja was very familiar with this train. ⸥

As if a thick blanket had covered everything, Kim Dokja felt the silence muffle his very being. Even the sound of his own breathing seemed to fade away. 

It was suffocating him. He knew it had to be this way. And yet,

⸢ Kim Dokja was actually starting to get quite tired of this train. ⸥

The windows exploded and pain bloomed in his face. With a horrific shatter, Kim Dokja’s eyes opened to see a red-faced Han Sooyoung inches away from him.

The bustle of people sharpened around him. He could hear a couple murmuring to each other on the other side of the cart, a little kid watching a video on his mother’s phone near them. A group of friends were laughing over some joke, and the bright intercom of the train announcing the train’s arrival to its next stop floated over his ears.

The train seemed so colorful. Kim Dokja breathed like he had just resurfaced from the ocean for the first time in years.

”You were drooling on my shoulder.” Han Sooyoung said, her voice monotone. 

“D-did you just slap me?” Kim Dokja said, horrified.

”Yeah, it’s my stop. I need to go.”

”Oh, I’m sorry. When did I fall asleep?” Kim Dokja said, blearily rubbing his eyes.

Han Sooyoung looked at him. “What do you remember?”

Kim Dokja paused. “You were telling me you were going to send me to a mental asylum.” 

”… Yep, you got it. You got mad that I kept saying that and then you went and fell asleep on my shoulder.” Han Sooyoung said, her voice steady.

”I guess you’re probably right,” he said. He must have mixed up whatever he remembered with his strange dream.

”You were mumbling something in your sleep. Did you dream in that short amount of time?” Han Sooyoung asked.

”Yeah, but I can’t quite remember it. I honestly didn’t even realize I fell asleep. I thought I was just on the train the whole time.” Kim Dokja looked at the sign above the doors. “Isn’t this your stop?”

She watched him, something spinning in her eyes, then said, “I’ll stay with you until your stop and just wait for the train to loop around to mine.”

”What?!” Kim Dokja shrieked, causing the other passengers around them to look at him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Why?!”

Han Sooyoung sighed. “What if you fall asleep again? I have to make sure you don’t miss your stop.”

”I’ll get off at my stop, don’t worry. I’m not a kid.” Kim Dokja said, trying to stamp down a yawn.

Han Sooyoung smiled a little.. bitterly at him, for some reason. “You definitely are. I’m making sure you get off properly.”

Kim Dokja rolled his eyes, but relented as the doors closed shut. 

They didn’t talk much, Han Sooyoung simply jabbing him in the side whenever he was about to doze off. Eventually, the train announced his stop and Kim Dokja stood up. Han Sooyoung stood up with him.

”Are you going to follow me to my house or something?” Kim Dokja asked incredulously as he stood in front of the door.

”Absolutely not. I’m just making sure you don’t trip and die on your way off the train.” Han Sooyoung said.

”I didn’t know you were so thoughtful.”

”Shut up.”

Kim Dokja laughed, and Han Sooyoung smiled at him. She had seemed somewhat down for some reason since he’d fallen asleep, so Kim Dokja felt a little relieved at the sight of her lips curving up.

”Off you go!” Han Sooyoung said cheerily, shoving him lightly as the doors opened. Kim Dokja stumbled out the subway, spinning around once his feet hit solid ground.

”What was that for?” He demanded crossly.

”Just making sure.” Han Sooyoung smiled mischievously. “Good night, Kim Dokja. I’ll see you later!”

Kim Dokja sighed. “See you later.”

As the train doors closed shut, he watched Han Sooyoung waving at him from behind the window and felt a little strange, once again. But the cool night air was caressing his face, the smell of something delicious was wafting over from some nearby stalls, and the moisturizer and slip of paper were still tucked tightly in his pockets, so Kim Dokja turned away from the subway station and walked towards his next destination.

—

Han Sooyoung let her forehead drop against the window, ignoring the stares of the little kid and his mother next to her. Sweat trickled down her neck, and she clenched her hands, feeling how clammy her palms were.

It was a good thing that this Kim Dokja hadn’t learned how to lie properly yet. It was a good thing that this Kim Dokja was pure enough to believe Han Sooyoung when she lied straight to his face. 

It was a good thing she had seen the way he’d trembled after she asked him what ending he wanted.

Because maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he was starting to want the same ending she wanted, had always wanted, as well.