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Every so often, the N’Gai forest receives an unexpected, yet welcome visitor.
The first time Yoo Joonghyuk met him—the first he was allowed to remember— Kim Dokja was sitting under the shade of a large weeping tree, in the middle of the N’Gai forest. He was invisible at a glance, the darkness obscuring his pale, delicate features. His quiet countenance made him forgettable, inconspicuous; the best way to disappear is to hide in plain sight, after all.
Yoo Joonghyuk, master of the N’Gai forest, does his rounds regularly. All sorts of things drift ashore to the edges of his realm, and it’s Yoo Joonghyuk’s duty to ensure nothing bothersome ends up in here. Trash should remain as trash.
For today, he roams until the middle of the forest, which is surrounded by flowers. It’s a picturesque, quiet clearing; atop of a hill, the weeping tree oversees a large lake. Yoo Joonghyuk never quite understood how this seemingly “normal” area fit with the rest of the N’Gai forest. It’s a misshapen lump of normalcy in the midst of a forest known for being irrational and unnatural.
Other Outer Gods are unable to enter this area; it might be more accurate to say they cannot even perceive it. Yoo Joonghyuk never understood why, but then again, there is little anyone can understand from this world.
Yoo Joonghyuk walks until he reaches the tree’s shade. He leans against the trunk, his shoulder digging into the bark, crosses his leg and stares at the lake in a quiet, contemplative gaze. The sunlight glimpses through the branches to bask his face in broken strobes; his eyes shine brighter than gold. Even when shrouded in darkness, the protagonist shines bright enough to bewitch stars.
Kim Dokja is no exception. He is the rule, for a matter of fact.
Sat beneath the tree, he turns to his left to see Yoo Joonghyuk. He gasps ever so softly.
It is only then that Yoo Joonghyuk notices him—was allowed to notice him. Had he not intrigued his sight, he would have never seen him: ‹The Oldest Dream› is such an entity where you cannot dream of encountering them unless they bless you with their gaze; and you cannot dream of surviving if you do not.
A little boy, malnourished, frail, and bruised, looks at him in awe.
“Yoo… Yoo Joonghyuk?” Kim Dokja’s tone is wondrous yet ever so quiet. His hands clench and unclench, fingers trembling; begging for intimacy, yet expecting none. It is the weakest being Yoo Joonghyuk has ever seen, yet there is no mistake that this is ‹the Oldest Dream›.
[Your sponsor is looking at you.]
At first, what Yoo Joonghyuk feels is not confusion.
Instead, he feels… nostalgic. His heart pangs, aches. Suddenly, a long-lost yearning of decades, centuries old, settles in him. The soul remembers, even if the mind does not.
Suddenly, slowly, Yoo Joonghyuk is struck with the inexplicable understanding of fate. The inexorable fact that his destiny is forever linked to this boy is something he has cherished, cherishes, and will cherish.
He crouches down, and carefully covers Kim Dokja’s hand with his own. Their fingers slot together perfectly. This satisfies him greatly, even if he does not remember why.
“Yes. I’m Yoo Joonghyuk.” Yoo Joonghyuk says, gently.
Kim Dokja’s eyes shimmer with tears, quivering. Yoo Joonghyuk brushes them away with his scarred fingers, but it makes Kim Dokja cry faster. Yoo Joonghyuk’s forehead creases slightly in worry. He brings Kim Dokja to sit in his lap, holding him tight. Kim Dokja is so light, Yoo Joonghyuk is afraid he’ll fly away.
“I’m here.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice anchors him. “I’m here.”
Kim Dokja’s sobs slowly subside. He breathes in with stuttering gasps. Yoo Joonghyuk strokes his cheeks gently, willing his high body temperature to heat him up faster. Kim Dokja remains in his arms. Yoo Joonghyuk thinks he wouldn’t mind staying like this forever.
Kim Dokja raises his head to look at him, and sniffles. Up close, Yoo Joonghyuk can see how beautiful his eyes are, his thick eyelashes fluttering against his palm. At this moment, he’s confident Kim Dokja is the prettiest boy he’s ever seen. He’s forgotten about his very own striking looks, which causes Kim Dokja to blush under Yoo Joonghyuk’s quiet observations. To his regret, Kim Dokja hides his face against Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder. Does he find him intimidating?
“Why were you crying?” Yoo Joonghyuk softens his voice as much as he can. He brushes his fingers through Kim Dokja’s ink dark hair, and waits for an answer with a patience of a regressor.
“I can’t sleep.” Kim Dokja hiccups in Yoo Joonghyuk shoulders. “I can’t fall asleep.”
「The Oldest Dream cannot live without dreaming.」
Kim Dokja doesn’t say anything more. His thin arms clutch at Yoo Joonghyuk desperately.
“I’ll help you fall asleep.”
Kim Dokja shakes his head.
“If I stop sleeping,” Kim Dokja whispers. “You’ll stop suffering.”
“You’ll die.”
Kim Dokja says nothing.
“No.” Yoo Joonghyuk says. “Sleep.”
“I don’t…” He takes a shuddering gasp. “Haven’t you suffered enough? This isn’t worth it.”
“I’ll suffer as long as it takes in order to meet you.”
“But…”
“Kim Dokja.” The name sounds foreign in Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth, but he knows it’s where it belongs.
“We’ll meet again.”
“In my dreams.” Kim Dokja mumbles. His breathing has become steadier. It won’t be long, now.
“In your dreams.” Yoo Joonghyuk agrees. “I’ll always be here.”
He kisses the top of Kim Dokja’s head.
“Goodnight, Kim Dokja. Sweet dreams.”
Kim Dokja’s body slowly scatters away like ashes. Yoo Joonghyuk watches over in renewed hope, and closes his eyes.
When he opens them again, he remembers nothing. What remains are tears falling from his eyes.
He doesn’t know why he’s crying. Doesn’t remember why.
It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that he does not give up his goal to end the Oldest Dream.
There’s no use in remembering the forgotten.
■■■
The second time, Yoo Joonghyuk finds him on the roof of his cottage, staring at the stars in the night. Kim Dokja’s beauty eclipses their brilliance. He's grateful he’s allowed to remember, this time.
“You can’t sleep?”
Kim Dokja says nothing when Yoo Joonghyuk approaches, but his body stiffens, wary. Yoo Joonghyuk lifts him up by the waist to carry him inside.
At Kim Dokja's befuddled expression, Yoo Joonghyuk tells him, sternly.
"It's cold outside."
"I'm not cold—ah!"
Yoo Joonghyuk presses a hot palm against Kim Dokja's cold, exposed nape, fingers curling around his throat. He does a full-body shudder, moaning in relief. One heartbeat later, Kim Dokja's face turns red from shame.
"See? You're shivering." Yoo Joonghyuk comments. He needs to think of an excuse to prevent Kim Dokja from sitting on his lap, or else even regression won’t save him.
Kim Dokja is too embarrassed to reply. He settles for hiding his face in Yoo Joonghyuk's chest, giving up.
He settles Kim Dokja in the living room. Yoo Joonghyuk lights the fireplace by snapping his fingers with a spark of probability. The crackle of fire makes Kim Dokja smile.
Kim Dokja stretches his hand towards Yoo Joonghyuk, who accepts it immediately.
"Sleep?"
"Not now."
Kim Dokja looks crestfallen.
"Oh. Okay…"
"No. No." Yoo Joonghyuk exhales. "You can't sleep without eating first."
Kim Dokja looks at him, eyes glinting in carefully restrained hope.
"Wait here." Yoo Joonghyuk ruffles Kim Dokja’s hair. "I'll be back."
When Yoo Joonghyuk finishes cooking, he carries Kim Dokja to the kitchen.
“I can walk!” Kim Dokja protests.
“The floor is cold.” Yoo Joonghyuk says, adamant.
Kim Dokja’s mouth twitches. He opens his mouth to complain, then closes it. The smell of warm food wafts in his nose. His stomach growls audibly.
Yoo Joonghyuk sits Kim Dokja on a cushioned chair. He then sits next to him.
A small buffet graces the table: one bowl of hot, freshly steamed white rice, accompanied by an assortment of fried vegetables; two sandwiches sliced diagonally, with cheese, tomato, lettuce, onions, and mayonnaise; six bunny-shaped apple slices; three watermelon slices cut in triangles; a small bowl of dumpling soup; and finally, a large cup of hot chocolate, topped with marshmallows and whipped cream.
Kim Dokja doesn’t know where to look. Doesn’t even know where to start. He can’t close his small mouth from pure shock.
Yoo Joonghyuk frowns when Kim Dokja still doesn’t touch his food. He grabs the bowl of rice, and inserts the food in Kim Dokja’s mouth with a pair of chopsticks. Kim Dokja accepts the food in surprise, eating it slowly. The rice is easy to chew, and the vegetables are fresh and tasty. The seasoning spreads across his tongue, delicious and addictive. When Kim Dokja opens his mouth, Yoo Joonghyuk shoves another serving in his mouth. His mouth waters; his tongue feels like it’s melting from its deliciousness.
Kim Dokja starts crying silently, and Yoo Joonghyuk freezes. Fat blobs of tears cascade down Kim Dokja’s cheeks.
Is this food tasteless to constellations? Disgusting? Yoo Joonghyuk slowly lowers the third portion from Kim Dokja’s mouth, who immediately grabs his hand, but not before sniffling loudly. Kim Dokja shakes his head, still chewing his food and crying at the same time.
Once he’s done, he eats Yoo Joonghyuk’s offered portion. And he keeps crying.
“If you don’t like how it tastes, don’t eat it.” Yoo Joonghyuk tells him. Kim Dokja swallows his food.
Kim Dokja turns to look at him; his eyes are clear and honest.
“I like it.” He says, quietly brimming with excitement. “I really, really like it.”
Kim Dokja gives him a tiny smile. Yoo Joonghyuk would— will willingly suffer thousands of years if it means he gets to see him smile again. He places another portion of rice in Kim Dokja’s mouth. His cute cheeks are bulging; Yoo Joonghyuk is reminded of a bunny, and is possessed by the desire of pinching Kim Dokja’s swollen cheeks until they’re red.
He settles for squeezing his face instead. Yoo Joonghyuk watches in helpless adoration as Kim Dokja frowns yet yields to his touch.
“Oh.” Kim Dokja has eaten almost half the bowl. “I don’t like tomatoes.”
“Tomatoes are good for you.” Yoo Joonghyuk picks up the sandwich with a menacing look.
“You said I don’t have to eat it!”
“That excludes picky eating.”
Kim Dokja pouts.
This time, Kim Dokja falls asleep almost immediately after he’s done eating.
“No...” He says, drowsily, dazzlingly. “I don’t want to sleep…”
Yoo Joonghyuk kisses his forehead. “Go to bed. I’ll cook for you again, next time.”
“I don’t want to leave you…”
“You’ll see me again.”
“In my dreams.” Kim Dokja’s voice is barely audible. His body slowly fades to nothingness.
“Goodnight, Kim Dokja.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice threatens to break.
When Yoo Joonghyuk opens his eyes again, he feels like he’s slept an eternity. He stretches his arms, and walks to the kitchen. He doesn’t recall cooking; he’s already eaten today. But strangely enough, he’s still hungry.
When he takes a bite from the half-eaten bowl of rice, he starts crying.
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t understand why.
◼◼◼
When Yoo Joonghyuk comes home, he notices the door to his library is ajar. Before he realizes it, he’s walking through the corridors, climbing up a spiral staircase with his lantern. The transition to regaining his memory is getting smoother with time. He walks to section OD.9-158, and crouches. Kim Dokja looks at him, hidden inside the bookshelf.
… He’s so small. Yoo Joonghyuk needs to feed him more.
Kim Dokja scowls, as if reading his thoughts on Yoo Joonghyuk’s expressionless face.
“I’ve already eaten.”
“Good boys that eat four meals a day get to sleep.”
Kim Dokja tears up. “But I’m full…”
“Just this once.” Yoo Joonghyuk concedes. “Eat grapes. Then I’ll read you a bedtime story.”
Kim Dokja smiles.
Yoo Joonghyuk reveals a container full of grapes from under his veil, like a magician performing a party trick.
Kim Dokja glares.
◼◼◼
He finds Kim Dokja bathing in the middle of the lake. His pale skin shines under the moonlight, the water doing nothing but amplify Yoo Joonghyuk’s desires. Drops of water cling to his skin: eyelashes wet, his lips plush, begging to be bitten—
It takes a moment before Yoo Joonghyuk reigns in his desires, but it’s too late, what with his incessantly fraying control. He closes his eyes in silent apprehensiveness, then looks to Kim Dokja distressingly.
When Kim Dokja returns his gaze, he’s blushing, but not disgusted.
He even seems… used to it.
“This wasn’t the first time.” Yoo Joonghyuk says.
Kim Dokja freezes, shocked.
“Y-You.” Kim Dokja splutters, his face turning redder with the second. “You should be apologising!”
“This wasn’t the second time, either.” Yoo Joonghyuk guesses. “Nor the third.”
Kim Dokja is speechless. He only remembers to move away once Yoo Joonghyuk touches his face, body faltering as Yoo Joonghyuk embraces him.
But when Yoo Joonghyuk brings their faces together, Kim Dokja doesn’t run away.
“And I’ve kissed you many times before.” Yoo Joonghyuk murmurs, confident. Kim Dokja shivers, but not from the cold.
Yoo Joonghyuk kisses him then, swallows the coldness on Kim Dokja’s tongue. Warms his enticing mouth until Kim Dokja can no longer breathe, until he’s accepted all the warmth Yoo Joonghyuk has to give him.
Yoo Joonghyuk breaks the kiss, leaving Kim Dokja to pant for breathe against his shoulder. Kim Dokja’s reaction to the hand on his waist is delayed because of that.
“No!” Kim Dokja slaps it away. “Not… now.”
“When you’ve properly awoken.”
“If…”
“When.”
Kim Dokja is silent, breathing quietly against Yoo Joonghyuk’s solid chest. He nods once, slowly.
Yoo Joonghyuk kisses the top of his head.
“For you, I can wait an eternity and more.”
◼◼◼
The last time before they meet before their ◼◼◼ , Yoo Joonghyuk finds Kim Dokja sat on his bed. All the weight he’s gained since they’ve met has disappeared like a lie. He’s just as frail— no, even more sickly than when they first met. The sunlight seems like it could pass right through him like glass.
Yoo Joonghyuk fears that one day, he will disappear forever, out of his sight.
“This is the last time.” Kim Dokja whispers. “I will no longer wake up after this. We won’t remember, anymore.”
“It won’t be the last time.” Yoo Joonghyuk tucks Kim Dokja to bed, scarred hands shaking imperceptibly.
“It will be our beginning.” His voice is confident, with an arrogance that only regressors can wield.
Kim Dokja’s tears silently fall down his cheeks. Almost inaudibly, Yoo Joonghyuk hears the hum of an incoming train. He can feel their memories drift away like steam; his anger and sorrow replaces them, returning in full force.
“I’ll always be here. Connected to you.” Yoo Joonghyuk repeats. For the both of them.
He holds Kim Dokja’s hands, clasped together like in a prayer. A perfect fit, like always.
“Tell me a story.” Kim Dokja’s eyes are half-shut. He’s struggling to stay awake, now.
Yoo Joonghyuk pauses for a moment. He opens his mouth.
“In the 1863rd round, Yoo Joonghyuk…”
◼◼◼
When Yoo Joonghyuk opens his eyes, he doesn’t remember why he’s lying in bed. Instead, he’s struck with the desire to watch another of his past regressions. He sees an ordinary man reading on his phone, and finds him familiar, yet not at all. He wants to say it’s an equal balance of familiarity and unfamiliarity, but it doesn’t seem quite right.
He shakes his head. His mind is being delusional.
If Yoo Joonghyuk ever met this man before, it would have to be in a dream.
[The free service of planetary system 8612 has been terminated.]
[The main scenario has started.]
“Goodnight, Kim Dokja. Sweet dreams.”