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Kim Dokja held back a heavy sigh.
His fingers were clamped tightly around the bridge of his nose, but he let no other sign of his irritation show. If it only weren’t for that damn protagonist, he wouldn’t be stuck in a situation like this. Damn. How had it even come to this?
Slowly, Kim Dokja shifted his hand from his face, peeking at the notification that still illuminated the otherwise dark cave.
<Hidden Scenario>
Category: Hidden
Difficulty: D
Clear Conditions: The constellations have grown tired of your bickering and wish for the incarnations ‘Kim Dokja’ and ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’ to express their true feelings for one another.
Time Limit: 48 hours
Reward: 5,000 coins
Penalty for Failure: Both incarnations will have their stats significantly lowered for the next main scenario. The entrance of the cave will not be revealed until the clear conditions have been met or the allotted time has passed.
Spite coursing through his blood, Kim Dokja shot a glare towards the uncaring regressor. He was leaning against the cave’s wall that was farthest from where Kim Dokja himself was seated. There was a slight scowl on his face, but his eyes were shut as if he was entirely unbothered by their predicament.
Well of course he wasn’t worried about the damned penalty. Regardless of how much his stats were lowered, he wouldn’t be the one suffering. On the other hand, Kim Dokja needed his stats to remain right where they were—if not higher.
He bit back the frustrated scream burning at the back of his throat. Why was he the one who had to suffer for the regressor’s lack of emotional intelligence? More importantly, why the hell were those nosy constellations so fixated on their relationship? Or rather, the lack of it.
“Yoo Joonghyuk, are you going to ignore me for the full 48 hours?” Kim Dokja finally said, breaking the silence that had settled into the cave.
From across the cave, Yoo Joonghyuk shot the man a dirty glare. The rage in his murderous eyes was deadlier than any catastrophe they had ever faced.
Kim Dokja rolled his eyes. By now, he was more than used to the protagonist’s antics. “Is it really that hard for you to say I’m your companion?” he prompted, tilting his head curiously. “You’ve said it before.”
“That was the past.”
A cold look settled across the regressor’s face. It wasn’t the usual unbothered look of indifference that he bore, but rather one of genuine displeasure.
Kim Dokja bit his tongue. That was right, he’d almost forgotten that there was an actual reason behind Yoo Joonghyuk’s rage. He’d been so preoccupied with the scenarios and keeping all of his companions alive that he had forgotten that he’d never had the chance to properly talk to the one he cared about most.
To his credit, Yoo Joonghyuk had left while the reader had been asleep. But still, in the few interactions that followed, he hadn’t tried very hard to address the past events.
Perhaps he had been asking too much to demand that Yoo Joonghyuk claim him as a companion after what had happened. Afterall, the man had been furious and rightfully felt betrayed when he’d first found out about that damn novel.
Guilt twisted in Kim Dokja’s stomach as he found himself unable to look the protagonist in the eyes any longer. “Right,” he mumbled quietly, his fingers twisting together. “Then, you can just say we’re enemies. Let out your anger so we can leave and go our separate ways.”
“ … ”
Yoo Joonghyuk did not give a reply.
Kim Dokja supposed the regressor was just going to settle for the penalty. It wasn’t something that he hadn’t been expecting. Of course, it was exactly what he thought was going to happen regardless of whether they were on good or bad terms. With everything considered, it made even more sense for the regressor to want nothing to do with him.
But he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to speak up. He couldn’t waste the opportunity that he’d been waiting for all that time that he’d been sitting by an unconscious Yoo Joonghyuk. He’d wanted a chance to clear the air between them and, if it backfired, he could use the sake of the hidden scenario as an excuse.
The smaller man took a deep breath, pushing himself to his feet so he could properly look Yoo Joonghyuk in the eyes. However, he kept his distance and remained where he was. His hands were shaking slightly, but he dug his fingers into his palms to steady himself.
This was all his fault, he shouldn’t be the one feeling nervous.
“I really do consider you … ” The moment the words left his mouth, he realized that he’d already made a mistake. He shook his head, starting over. “I really did consider you my companion. And I didn’t … have any intention of manipulating you. The novel was just what kept me alive.”
Yoo Joonghyuk showed no sign that he was listening.
Kim Dokja traced his tongue over his lips nervously, but decided he wasn’t going to stop. Even if Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t care, even if he wasn’t listening at all, these were words that he had to say. Because if he didn’t say them now, he wasn’t sure he ever would. But he wanted to.
He didn’t want to have to lose Yoo Joonghyuk as a companion. While he hadn’t thought it was possible at the beginning, it had happened anyway. They had become companions through life and death, but he had ruined it with his own hands.
And he so selfishly refused to let go.
“I admired you, Yoo Joonghyuk,” Kim Dokja said, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I liked you, hated you, resented you, and cheered for you. When I was beaten by iljins … when I failed my entrance exams … when I was drafted to the front lines … when my bosses were vile and abusive … when I was alone … I pretended that I was you, Yoo Joonghyuk. You were someone who could keep fighting, who kept getting back up again and again and again. You gave me the strength to stay alive for one more day.”
I would be dead if it weren’t for you.
Kim Dokja couldn’t bring himself to say those words. So instead he said, “It was all for the sake of survival. I never meant to use you as my entertainment. I never meant to use you at all.”
He stared at his hands, regretting having ever opened that webnovel. If Yoo Joonghyuk ignored him for the rest of this regression, he would deserve it. Did he even have the right to claim that he’d never meant to use the protagonist? He’d known exactly who he was from the very start and he’d always centred his plans around him …
[Incarnation ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’ has activated Lie Detection Lv. 10.]
[Lie Detection Lv. 10 has confirmed your statement as true.]
This guy … He really didn’t trust Kim Dokja even now.
But then again, Kim Dokja wasn’t sure if he would trust himself. Actually, he was almost certain that he wouldn’t.
“I’m sorry, Yoo Joonghyuk,” he said.
He stared quietly down at the ground. Whatever happened next was out of his hands. Everything that he had to say was out in the open—aside from the little details that the regressor didn’t need to hear. He didn’t know the exact events that had happened and just how truly pathetic Kim Dokja’s life had been.
There was silence.
Heavy, painful silence.
And then at least, Yoo Joonghyuk broke that silence.
“ … you should be sorry.”
The words were blunt. There was no hurt or anger in his voice, and yet there was still that bitter undertone that had refused to settle ever since their disagreement had begun.
Kim Dokja bit his lip. “I am—”
“You are apologizing for unnecessary things,” Yoo Joonghyuk continued. His head snapped towards the left, specifically the far corner of the cave where Kim Dokja was. It was almost like he thought that if he stood there still enough, he would be invisible.
Kim Dokja tensed at the sudden attention. “What?”
“Answer me, Kim Dokja,” he demanded. His eyes were once again bright, the indifference in his face morphing into something far more expressive. “Did you become my companion because I was simply a character of a story you read, or did you become my companion because …”
Yoo Joonghyuk did not finish his sentence. However, he didn’t need to.
Stunned, Kim Dokja stared at him. He almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was that really what this had been about? Had Yoo Joonghyuk not been mad, but rather … hurt? He had been worried that he wasn’t considered to be his companion?
[Kim Dokja is an idiot.]
He chose to ignore the 4th wall.
“I became your companion because I wanted to,” Kim Dokja replied fiercely. He made himself hold the intense glare from the regressor. “I thought I knew you well because of what I had read, but in reality … I didn’t know you very much at all. It was like meeting an old friend and realizing that, not only have they changed, but I have remembered some things wrong. I like the you I’m seeing right now more than the character that I read about. And it’s the you I see right now, Yoo Joonghyuk, that I have chosen as my companion. It has nothing to do with the novel, because if I hadn’t read it, I would still make the same choice.”
Yoo Joonghyuk studied him for a moment, his left brow quivering as a look of deep thought crossed his face. Then, he shook his head. “If you hadn’t read the story, you would not be Kim Dokja,” he said.
The words really took him by surprise this time.
Yoo Joonghyuk stared right back. He seemed to be studying the smaller man’s look of complete shock, taking the time to remember what it looked like for the quick-witted, silver-tongued ‘prophet’ to be speechless.
“You would not have been able to make the decisions you made, and you would not …” He paused, his brows creasing slightly as he took a deep breath to force out his next words. “ … sacrifice yourself.”
The reader gave him a crooked smile. It was one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If I hadn’t read the story, I wouldn’t be here to make such sacrifices in the first place,” he admitted. He kicked at the stone ground awkwardly, the crookedness in his smile suddenly turning sad. “I owe it to you all.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes narrowed. “Kim Dokja,” he said in warning.
Kim Dokja wasn’t too sure what had upset the protagonist, but he forced his smile into something more joyful. “You didn’t use ‘Lie Detection’ for my answer,” he said, changing the topic.
“It is because I can tell if you are lying without the skill,” he answered. The crease between his brows remained as he glared at the ground as if he could burn a hole right through it. “I used it earlier for your own sake.”
Kim Dokja opened his mouth, but Yoo Joonghyuk cut him off.
“You did not have any ill-intent to begin with, so you don’t need to apologize for that,” the regressor said. There was a hint of resentment in his eyes, but strangely enough, it didn’t seem directed at Kim Dokja himself. “What you should apologize for instead is your constant sacrificing. Companions are supposed to work together, not separately.”
The words hung heavily in the air.
Companions are supposed to work together, not separately.
Companions. Work together.
Warmth spread along the back of Kim Dokja’s neck and rose to tinge his cheeks a faint shade of red. Fighting for the breath to remain in his lungs he protested, “But I thought—”
“I have heard all that I need to hear.”
Kim Dokja was confused. He didn’t understand what it was that the regressor had wanted to hear, and he wasn’t sure when he had said something that would’ve been enough to satisfy him.
[The fable, Life and Death Companion, is telling its story.]
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk started. His eyes had softened ever so slightly, and the way he said his name … As if it actually belonged to someone important, someone the regressor cared about. “Let’s see the end of the story you like so much.”
Kim Dokja stared at him, searching desperately for a sign—any sign. But there was no such thing. There was nothing that showed any deceit, nothing that showed any different meaning than the one he had given. The regressor was not one for lying very much, and when he did lie … it was often rather obvious.
It was enough to make a small yet genuine smile curve at Kim Dokja’s lips. “Together,” he said, the words both a lighthearted quip and a deep, genuine promise.
Yoo Joonghyuk scoffed, turning his head away from the smaller man. And yet he made no attempt to hide the hint of a smile that had twitched at his lips.
However, the hidden scenario hadn’t been completed.
The dim blue light of the pixelated screen was still glowing in the dark cave. Nothing had changed, and there was no sign that they’d made any improvements.
Kim Dokja frowned, the smiling vanishing from his face. A hint of his happiness still lingered in his eyes and in the colour of his cheeks. Still, it bothered him that the scenario hadn’t been completed. Was there more left that he had to atone for? Or maybe Yoo Joonghyuk was lying afterall and he didn’t forgive him at all.
His lips parted as his hands clenched into tight fists. “I—”
“The scenario is not complete because only you have made a declaration,” Yoo Joonghyuk interrupted. His fingers tapped along his forearm, still crossed tightly over his chest. “It is not you who is required to speak. Stop thinking.”
Kim Dokja shut his mouth, considering the words. He supposed that it was true, but still, he figured that it would be enough to satisfy the constellations. “Well, is there something that you want to say to me?” he offered.
Yoo Joonghyuk was quiet.
The smaller man humed thoughtfully. “Then I will fill the silence until we can rejoin the others.”
“2 days is too much time to waste,” Yoo Joonghyuk said. The look on his face was meant to imply that he was repulsed by the idea of Kim Dokja talking his ears off for the next couple days, but from the faded edge in his glaring eyes, it was obvious that that was not the case.
Kim Dokja tilted his head, puzzled to see this warmer side of the regressor. To say that he liked it would be an understatement, and he wanted to save the moment perfectly to his memory. Afterall, he wasn’t sure how long it would last, or if he would ever be able to see it again once it was gone.
“It could be worse,” he quipped, still taking in that faint but present glow of warmth around the regressor. “Maybe the constellations will realize that we’ve already made up.” He hesitated then, thinking about his words. “We … we are good now, right?”
Yoo Joonghyuk glared at him, but his murderous intent didn’t come close to even rivalling his previous ones.
Kim Dokja scratched his neck nervously.
“Yes, you fool,” the regressor grumbled, rather irritated that he had to spell it out. He was certain that he’d made that much clear.
Kim Dokja beamed at him.
The regressor tore his gaze away.
To the regressor’s luck, the oblivious man in the corner of the cave didn’t notice the colour tinging his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Instead, he was busy staring at the glowing scenario window still in front of him.
It was obvious that he was trying to find some sort of fine print, some little detail that he possibly had overlooked. It was something that the reader did best—read. Under normal circumstances, he probably would’ve been able to find the answer to their situation. However, when it came to these things, the reader was rather dense.
“ … I don’t understand why the scenario hasn’t ended yet,” he mumbled, more to himself than to his companion. “We’ve already said how we feel and made up, isn’t that enough?”
Yoo Joonghyuk was quiet, wrapped up in his own thoughts. He only needed to save a few measly words and the entrance to the cave would be revealed. And yet, he couldn’t find the courage to say them.
He was torn between options. On one hand, part of him wanted to say those 3 words burning on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to rush towards the corner of the cave and embrace that foolish, self-deprecating reader who refused to look out for himself. But then, there was that other part of him. The part of him that was too scared of finding out just how the reader would react. The part of him that wanted to draw his sword and start running at him.
He hadn’t the faintest clue how to go about flirting with the man, and so a part of him wished to make up for it by masking his attraction for hatred. But he didn’t, because he knew that if he acted impulsively now, his chance to do anything else in the future would vanish.
Maybe he could settle for choking some sense into that dense fool. Was it not obvious why the scenario wasn’t ending?
Kim Dokja frowned, clearly not finding the solution obvious at all. “Is there something that I’m missing?” he asked. He looked over at the regressor, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied him (albeit rather poorly). “Are you holding back? Have I done something else to upset you? Now is the best moment we’ll have to speak so openly like this, you know. We can talk about what it is that’s bothering you.”
Yoo Joonghyuk was tired of it. He wanted Kim Dokja to stop blaming himself, he wanted him to stop apologizing, he wanted him to stop feeling like he had to defend himself. He already heard what he wanted to hear.
If the regressor were to be honest with himself for once, he had forgiven the reader the moment he had started explaining. Well, forgive was a strong word for how he felt. He had never been mad to begin with. All he’d felt was confused and a little wounded. He had thought that Kim Dokja had never wanted to be his companion.
But he was wrong.
Just like Yoo Joonghyuk looked to Kim Dokja in order to finish the scenarios and live in this current regression, Kim Dokja had looked to Yoo Joonghyuk in order to survive his own tragedies. And that was more than what he had hoped to hear.
Kim Dokja needed Yoo Joonghyuk, and Yoo Joonghyuk needed Kim Dokja.
And that was why the regressor found the courage to say—
“I love you, Kim Dokja.”
The words were far too quiet for the other man to have possibly hear him. It was obvious from the way the older man’s brows bunched slightly and he leaned forwards, away from the wall.
“What did you say?” he asked, those dark eyes staring innocently up at the protagonist.
Yoo Joonghyuk glared at him furiously, crossing his arms. Embarrassment had begun to settle in and his ears had turned a bright shade of red. His face remained more or less composed, the typical scowl resting on his lips as he tried his hardest to avoid the other man’s apologetic and concerned stare.
“I didn’t hear what you said, Yoo Joonghyuk,” Dokja continued, the words soft but growing in concern. It was far too obvious that he felt guilty for not being able to hear the other man’s muffled whisper.
“Shut up, Kim Dokja.”
Yoo Joonghyuk glared at him briefly before turning his attention back towards the blocked entrance of the cave. However, Kim Dokja wasn’t entirely blind. This time, he took notice of the tinge that had taken to the protagonist’s face.
“Yoo Joonghyuk?” he called out, his voice softer and coated with faint amusement.
“Shut up,” the regressor repeated, firmer this time.
“Hey, come on,” Kim Dokja pressed. “Even if you consider us companions again, I know you don’t want to be here any longer than we already have. You can be honest with me here. If I’ve upset your or done anything, you can say so right now—”
Before the reader could let out one more word, Yoo Joonghyuk was standing right in front of him. He was close enough that his breath was fanning against the smaller man’s stunned face. The reader froze and stiffened even more when the regressor slammed either of his palms against the wall on either side of his head.
“ … Yoo Joonghyuk?”
Yoo Joonghyuk stared back at his reader.
“Did I say something wrong—”
“Shut up,” Yoo Joonghyuk said. But before he could tell whether Kim Dokja would listen to his command, he sealed his lips with his own.
Kim Dokja’s eyes blew open wide. Then, his hands instinctively moved to tangle in the other’s hair.
The feeling of Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips on his own was foreign and almost odd, but it wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, it felt right. Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips were warm but a little rough, as was expected of the protagonist. It was the movement of his lips themselves which felt out of character. Slow, gentle, cautious, and slightly hesitant.
After a few moments, Yoo Joonghyuk pulled back. He studied the other man carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. “Kim Dokja,” he said with a tone that he had never once used.
Kim Dokja’s knees weakened slightly. “Yoo Joonghyuk,” he replied just as fondly.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “I … I can’t continue without you. Don’t leave me alone.”
Kim Dokja’s hands lowered, wrapping around the regressor’s neck lovingly. “Idiot,” he muttered. He touched his forehead to his. “You were never alone.”
“Kim Dokja,” the regressor said again, the name spoken so gently.
Kim Dokja smiled at him and pulled the regressor down for another kiss.
This time, there was no hesitation. Still, it was soft, gentle. They were just starting to test out the new waters they had both found themselves diving into, an unknown that they had no problem discovering together. All of it was new. It was unexpected territory that neither of them had ever thought they’d find, even if they’d both thought about it.
And so now that they had finally found this safe haven, they were going to take their time.
Yoo Joonghyuk pulled away only when they were both out of breath, when the words he’d said but had gone unheard were thundering too loudly in his chest for him to contain. He knew he didn’t have to say them again, he knew that Kim Dokja had already figured it out, but still, he wanted to. He needed to.
Just in case this star he had finally held onto decided to slip out of his grasp.
He learned forwards, wrapping one arm tight around Kim Dokja’s back while the other grasped the back of his head. It was like he was worried that if he let go, if he held on even a little looser, the man would disappear again.
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, the name tumbling out of his lips like a heartfelt prayer.
The sound alone was enough to make the man’s heart flutter right out of his chest. He knew the words underneath that tone. They were words he had never properly heard even once in his life, and so he knew he could live without them.
Quietly, so quietly that only Kim Dokja could hear, Yoo Joonghyuk whispered into his hair, “I love you, my dear foolish reader.”
Kim Dokja smiled, his heart truly about to burst.
He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve hearing those words, but he decided that it didn’t matter, because if Yoo Joonghyuk had decided to say them then he would take it. Because even though he really could’ve lived without hearing those words, now that he knew it was possible … possible to have someone look at him, hold him, the way he was now … possible to no longer have to say “I am Yoo Joonghyuk” when he was alone, but hold and be held by him instead …
He didn’t want to let it go.
And so Kim Dokja held onto Yoo Joonghyuk as fiercely as he was holding him. “I love you too, my dear sunfish protagonist,” he whispered back.
The entrance of the cave had already opened, but neither of them were in any rush to leave.