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Kim Dokja may have read through three thousand chapters about the scenarios that are cooked up in this world, but there are still some unpredictable schemes that the Star Stream manages to unkindly shove his face into.
It’s apparent when somehow, someway, Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk end up walking up the stairwell of his apartment complex for some arbitrary requested scenario rewards. The one he lived in before the scenarios began, and the culmination of his sedentary lifestyle and bad habits all on display exactly how he left it for work on that morning.
He stops in his tracks before the closed apartment door, Yoo Joonghyuk’s ever-looming and ominous presence a step behind him.
“...I lost my keys,” Kim Dokja says when he belatedly realizes how embarrassing it was for Yoo Joonghyuk to see and judge his life choices before he started fucking things up in the Star Stream.
It was meant to be private, something buried that he conveniently forgets about when in the face of these not-so ‘foreign’ dangers of this ‘new’ world. He can’t just lose his image here when he spent so much effort cultivating it to not be trifled with. Mystery is part of what kept viewers watching.
Not much information was given about Yoo Joonghyuk’s pre-scenario life, but Kim Dokja took a wild guess and assumed he lived it better– healthier , at least.
[Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ wants to remind you of the generous reward awaiting the completion of the scenario!]
[Constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ offers to spend probability to open the door.]
[Constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ yells out that the previous life of Constellation ‘Demon King of Salvation’ was not as interesting as a fight!]
[Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ ***---]
Using probability? Just to open a door? How bored could somebody get? For the first time, Kim Dokja found himself agreeing with the Abyssal Black Flame Dragon. He just needed to fight and defy the impossible to get the most rise out of the constellations, not go back to his old apartment and present how boring and ordinary he was pre-scenarios.
Yoo Joonghyuk silently looks at him. His expression betrays no thoughts, but the brief twitch of his eyebrow has chills shooting down his spine. That foreboding feeling turns for the worst when Yoo Joonghyuk surges forward and unkindly kicks the door down as if Kim Dokja’s former property meant nothing.
Kim Dokja stares open-mouthed as the force of the locks breaking open echoes. Dust plumes in the air, and slowly settles, Yoo Joonghyuk’s coat sweeping past and dragging the smoky mist inside.
“What– you can’t just– this is my apartment, Yoo Joonghyuk!” He chastises, running in after the bastard who strode in like he owned the place.
“You haven’t paid rent in years.”
“That’s– well.” He stops and considers that for a moment. “That’s not what I mean. This was still my apartment, at some point. What if I held sentimental value for that door?”
“Fool.”
He stops chasing Yoo Joonghyuk’s heels, another quip on the tip of his tongue before it dies out when he’s hit with the sudden unsettling sight of his apartment, untouched as the way he left it.
[Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ cheers and curiously looks around!]
[A majority of constellations are underwhelmed.]
No kidding. It’s just an apartment, ordinary as any other. Nothing valuable or special about it.
There was still that handful of disposable wooden chopsticks that he took from fast-food restaurants gathered on his counter, that old sweater from college draped over a kitchen chair, that lone mug sitting in the sink.
Kim Dokja the salaryman was not nearly as interesting as the Demon King of Salvation, and he hasn’t been that person for a long while. Everything is the same as how he left it.
He could almost convince himself that he finally got home from a long and tiring day of work, the door sealing shut and the apartment quiet, about to take off his suit and wash it for tomorrow. Everything the same.
He could convince himself, if not for the protagonist of a ten-year-old novel with a coat darker than night and a sword sheathed at his hip currently rummaging through his cabinets and drawers, looking entirely out of his element, too big in this small place where Kim Dokja used to live. It’s like he didn’t fit here.
–well, most of all, what is that bastard doing looking through his stuff?
“Joonghyuk-ah, you shouldn’t dig through a man’s home the first time you’re let inside.”
And he doesn’t even respond. Kim Dokja was expecting some form of ‘shut up’, so this comes as a surprise. Yoo Joonghyuk glances over an outdated resume that he found at the bottom of a box underneath the couch, which was, respectfully, a single-seat chair with a leg rest in front of it.
He stood there staring at the chair, kind of weird, like he was having some sort of profound internal monologue about a discounted chair that was a shade darker than what was shown in the photos. Then he put the resume back inside the box and slid it under.
[Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ is looking at the chair.]
This guy too? It’s just a chair. It’s where he would reread the latest chapter once he was out of the subway. If the subway was too loud to hear his thoughts or he just couldn’t get to reading it there- then this was where he’d sit and rott away reading, dead to the world. There was nothing interesting about it.
This is why he didn’t want Yoo Joonghyuk prying around his apartment– he’s practically reeking judgment at Kim Dokja’s lazy lifestyle.
There has to have been a reason that they were sent here, other than a whim. Yoo Joonghyuk probably thought that the dokkaebi hid something within his old apartment that would either help them or greatly inconvenience them if it weren’t found, also considering that this was a very personal place, which means the constellations would have greater immersion in seeing him affected if things went wrong.
It’s right to be cautious in this world, right to investigate and pry. This doesn’t mean that Kim Dokja doesn’t snatch the papers out of Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands and slam the drawer shut when he starts looking through old ID photos.
“Nothing's going to be in there. Why are you looking at these? Items won’t appear from ordinary papers.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s glare turns sharp as if he had the right to go rummaging through his stuff like a homeless squatter. His eyes train into the drawer that Kim Dokja still had his hand guarding, as if he was trying to move it with his mind, and a scoff leaves the frown on his lips as he looks away. Kim Dokja’s about to tell him not to give him an attitude when the bastard whips around and skulks off.
Lack of communication makes for an easy segway into the next plot point, but it sure was annoying to be a character experiencing it from inside. Kim Dokja balefully watches Yoo Joonghyuk walk around his dusty apartment, observing silently for any hints of something out of the ordinary. After he found out that Kim Dokja got Unbreakable Faith from some hilt he overlooked– this must be his form of PTSD.
When he starts looking through the kitchen though, Kim Dokja undoubtedly assumes that it came from a personal need to judge that too.
“Nothing’s going to be in the sink, Yoo Joonghyuk.” Kim Dokja says once he gets tired of waiting for him to stop staring at dirty dishes.
The faucets squeak and no water flows out, other than a sorrowful drop. Yoo Joonghyuk, inexplicitly disappointed in Kim Dokja for not paying a water bill that expired two years ago, takes a final look at the lone mug in the sink, turns the faucet off, and opens the fridge.
“No wonder you don’t have the energy to train.” Is what that bastard says at the sight of a carton of rotten eggs and spoiled milk. The light didn’t turn on, so it looked sadder than usual, but of course, it didn’t– there was no electricity.
There was also that discounted kimbap on the door bin that Kim Dokja remembers looking forward to eating, but Yoo Joonghyuk seemed to refuse to look at it. Feeling wronged, Kim Dokja slid between him and the fridge, the drapes of their coats sweeping against the other.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s arm stays gripped on the door while he turns his face up, a dark stare meeting his eyes.
His face is stony.
“Kim Dokja.”
[Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is holding her breath.]
Suddenly, Kim Dokja is hit by how absurd this entire situation is. The bastard doesn’t seem to take the hint to get a move on, so Kim Dokja juts his chin forward and leans to the side. Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes follow his movement.
“You’ve never seen spoiled food before?” An easy grin crosses his face, “Well, Joonghyuk-ah. It turns out that perishable food items go bad if they aren’t kept cold.”
Just as sharp and abruptly, Yoo Joonghyuk sighs and pushes him out of the way, closing the fridge afterward.
[Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ laughs at Incarnation ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’.]
Yoo Joonghyuk storms out of the kitchen. Kim Dokja brushes dust off his shoulders and trails a step behind. He takes a final glance at the sink and wonders if Yoo Joonghyuk wanted to do his dishes or something.
It hadn’t even been a single night, and Kim Dokja was already exhausted trying to keep Yoo Joonghyuk from unveiling his entire life as an ordinary man to the constellation. It may not be that interesting, but there was still potential for the nebulae to use the information they gained here against them if there was some vulnerability here that Kim Dokja forgot about.
Well, if it came down to that, he’d make Yoo Joonghyuk deal with it for pulling a stunt like this.
He smiles to himself at the thought of troubling the protagonist who dragged him around where and whenever. As if scorning him, the moment he nears happiness is when he notices that said protagonist creeping towards the corner of his room.
“Yoo Joonghyuk!” Kim Dokja slams his hand over Yoo Joonghyuk’s, who was seconds away from opening his dresser drawer. “I’m sure you know what nearly every person keeps in their top drawer.”
The dokkaebis have varying personalities that all spell out different shades of sadism, but they would really have to hate him to hide a valuable item where he kept his underwear. Come on– who wants to see that? How does that make for good storytelling?
Without an ounce of guilt or remorse, Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand relaxes. Kim Dokja flinches at the feeling of his grip going slack in his touch, and he pulls away as if burned, rubbing at his palm. Looking into Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes is like falling off a bridge all over again.
This man is not a stranger now, but it takes more than companionship to not be disappointedly confused in someone.
“We’ve looked around enough,” he sighs, shoving his hands into his coat pockets, “I’m sure the entirety of the rewards will just be given at the scenario’s completion.”
“I’m not looking for rewards.” He responds, his hand sliding away from the drawer.
“Really?” Kim Dokja scoffs, in disbelief. “What are you looking for, then?”
Yoo Joonghyuk goes still. He gives him a deep, somewhat terrifying stare. Kim Dokja is close to brushing off the question when he turns his head away, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.
Watching the protagonist of a long, long story means watching someone spiral through as much strife as three thousand chapters could fit. It’s plenty. Yoo Joonghyuk is plenty, fleshed out, human, as much alive as he is now. Three thousand chapters of watching is enough for Kim Dokja to know things that Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t tell him.
“Nothing.” He says, and Kim Dokja doesn’t need to use Lie Detection to know that he was lying. It’s like all his knowledge about a liar’s habits was suddenly thrown out the window.
Most places Yoo Joonghyuk visited for the first time in the novel were ransacked or ignored depending on their value in the following regressions, and his decisions were stubborn, solid with confidence.
There’s no danger here, no overarching threat of loss or grief. The stakes are so low that Kim Dokja wonders why it was here that Yoo Joonghyuk tripped up.
“Nothing it is.” He responds, mercifully, patting him on the shoulder.
Kim Dokja physically feels the way Yoo Joonghyuk stiffens under his coat, his expression flat. If this guy was angry even now, then he shouldn’t have gone scavenging through an apartment while the host was watching.
[Constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ says that all of this is too boring!]
[Constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ is asking how Constellation ‘Demon King of Salvation’ became this way from life as an incarnation!]
The realization has him freezing in his tracks. Was that it? Was Yoo Joonghyuk searching for personal signs of how he ended up adapting to the scenarios so quickly? That was too bad, since the answer he was looking for could only be found on a phone screen nobody else could see.
It would make sense if Yoo Joonghyuk was still considering regression in order to gain some semblance of control over Kim Dokja’s influence, though he’d like to think they were well past that, and Yoo Joonghyuk thought of him as an asset that was only possible in this turn.
But if it really wasn’t useful items he was looking for, then what else was there?
[Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ screams that this information is very important!]
[Constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ agrees that he would like to know more about how Constellation ‘Demon King of Salvation’ lived an ordinary life.]
The Star Stream still manages to surprise him even now. This was apparent when Kim Dokja swept his fingers over the dresser and it came back up covered in dust, and when he turned to survey the entirety of the apartment as detached as the rest of the constellations who watched were.
It’s jarring, how nothing changes. Was he expecting a ruin of concrete? A new story lying in wait with a scenario hoping to spawn?
He actually wasn’t expecting anything at all, and that was why the sight of it, so mundane and familiar, was so strange. Yoo Joonghyuk already walked away, with Kim Dokja deciding to just let him do whatever he wanted.
That was right at least. This was the summary of Kim Dokja’s boring and ordinary life, all gathered up in the form of an unlived apartment, a story he hadn’t considered a story at all up until now. There was that lone chair pushed into that lone table, that lone mug in the sink, lone chair by a dusty window.
Then there alone stood Kim Dokja, and the fourth wall shushing him down from thinking about it.
He wipes the dust off of his fingers and thinks about the phantom sensation of wings fluttering on his back, stretching up into a smoky sky. There’s no use in lingering in the past so redundantly, and now that there was the tail ends of the grand story he was chasing so close in sight, he needed that less than ever.
Three thousand chapters is plenty, but not a sentence or more was spoken about Yoo Joonghyuk’s origins. Is this for the mystery that kept the reader reading, or was it the same as how Kim Dokja never thought about his old apartment or the life he used to live more than what the story brought up?
He wasn’t arrogant enough to call himself the protagonist, so he brushes this thought aside and looks away.
Yoo Joonghyuk had approached his bed, which was, respectfully, a twin-size with a single pillow and an embarrassing three layers of blankets. At least the bed was made, so he wasn’t made out to be a slob. In fact, at least he had a bed frame at all, and he didn’t end up stooping that low even though there was more of a likelihood than he’d admit.
Kim Dokja is completely fine with the Star Stream being a bit unpredictable at times, as long as he can keep it in control. This tirade was bothersome, but it wasn’t life-threatening, and Yoo Joonghyuk was in too deep to get rid of him now.
While he watches his companion get closer to the bed to do whatever investigation he deems necessary, it must have been the scorn of the universe in its entirety that Kim Dokja saw the accompanied tiny black pillow tucked beside his own a second too late.
One moment, Kim Dokja is thinking about all the things the future holds, the next, he’s sent reeling into a past that an entire novel should never have covered.
And while Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand reaches for the comforter, Kim Dokja watches, in slow motion, trapped in place by the chains of an entertaining story, his mind screaming and begging for the world to stop moving– as the blankets are all yanked aside and Kim Dokja’s old companion comes tumbling out onto the bare sheets.
[K im Do kja i s an id iot.]
A raw, visceral moment is spent in silence. It’s a silence that Kim Dokja has experienced before, drawn, burning, and dreaded. His voice is choked in his throat, staggered breaths chopping out.
All he sees is Yoo Joonghyuk’s broad back while he reaches for the doll and holds it up to observe.
Small and chubby, stylized face of thick, angry eyebrows over big, sharp eyes.
This was a place that he was meant to forget, a place that the rest of the world was supposed to ignore, including everything inside it. Cotton-doll Yoo Joonghyuk frowns at him from real Yoo Joonghyuk’s fist. Kim Dokja nearly forgot about how cute it is.
[Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is crying!]
[Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ has sponsored 5,000 coins!]
[Constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ is gobsmacked.]
“Yoo Joonghyuk.” Kim Dokja says, in a daze.
[Constellation ‘Maritime War God’ retreats to tell his incarnation something important.]
[Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ feels validated for recent personal purchases.]
“Yoo Joonghyuk.”
[Constellation ‘Bald General of Justice’ slaps his head!]
[Constellation ‘Mass-production Maker’ considers the value of the product and offers Constellation ‘Demon King of Salvation’ a business contract.]
[Constellation ‘Queen of the Darkest Spring’ notes to herself that her son likes these frivolous items.]
[A majority of constellations are too shocked to speak!]
It seems plenty of them are speaking anyway. Kim Dokja weakly walks to the bed and stands at his companion’s side.
Despite the thousands of things he should’ve done, all Yoo Joonghyuk does is stare at the doll, and suddenly, Kim Dokja feels a rush of adrenaline spike through his blood.
“Yoo Joongyuk!” He snaps, waving his arms up, “This is obviously a ploy set up by the dokkaebi– I mean– why else would– this is why I knew we should have just gone back to the complex! Why would I ever own a doll like this, I’m a grown man–”
It’s never been as clear to Kim Dokja than in this moment to understand that sometimes, silence hurts more than words.
“The constellations must have planted that there and that’s why they were so adamant–”
[Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ claims innocence on her honor!]
“--not to mention my character itself, do I seem like the type of guy that owns those sorts of things–”
[Constellation ‘Mass Production Maker’ says that the doll is well-made.]
“--are you even hearing yourself, Yoo Joonghyuk?!”
Kim Dokja settles, his face red and chest heaving. There was not a single situation he had ever been through that had felt as critical as this. He takes a great gasp of air, stares at Yoo Joonghyuk’s emotionless face, and the terrifying clarity that he had not said a word this entire time settles in.
As if he popped, Kim Dokja wheezes.
In the passing few seconds of silence, he ignores the stream of blue notifications pouring out at his side. A man and a doll stare into each other’s eyes.
“Where did you get this?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks. It’s the first thing he’s said in a while. No cue in his voice could tell him what he was thinking right then and there. The ‘why’ part of that question thankfully goes unsaid. He hopes it stays that way forever.
The real answer to that question was more shameful than that. A lot of saving, bad decisions, and discount coupon hoarding- then Kim Dokja designed the doll himself and had it sent to a manufacturer, whom he paid on a tight budget instead of getting his heater fixed. A long three and a half weeks later, Kim Dokja had his own personal Yoo Joonghyuk doll, which he pampered like a real child and let sleep in his arms every night.
There was no materialistic way to outlet his love for WOS while being the sole reader, no fandom to drown in, and no merch to buy. So he settled with making his own.
And how in the world is he supposed to say that? ‘Yeah, I suddenly got the urge to create and own a complete copy of you as a little toy before we ever met. I guess fate does exist after all, Joonghyuk-ah!’
“Well, here’s the thing…” He shuffles on his heels. There was no ‘thing’. He had absolutely no way to explain himself. In fact, it kind of feels like he could understand what Yoo Joonghyuk wanted whenever he regressed for incidental reasons.
“I see.” Yoo Joonghyuk nods as if he reached some celestial understanding. This greatly unsettles him.
“I have no idea what you think you’re seeing, but it’s wrong.”
“You said you were a fan.”
At first, Kim Dokja was confused. He stares at the doll being rudely squeezed, then remembers– ah , right. Yoo Joonghyuk used to be a streamer. Never mind that the doll was dressed in a mini black coat with a mini sword in his hand, it was totally because Kim Dokja used to watch a gaming streamer at 28 years old which he bought plushies targeted at teenagers from. This was neither better nor worse than the truth.
“...can you just, hand that back to me?” Cats out of the bag. The least Kim Dokja could do for the doll is stop it from being strangled, then he’ll move past all of this without answering any questions and leaving them up for interpretation. He still only has theories as to why the entire world seemed adamant about cornering him here, but a growing suspicion that it was to humiliate him creeps up at the forefront.
Yoo Joonghyuk holds the doll above their heads when Kim Dokja reaches for it, as if he were some courtyard bully. The look on his face is more disbelieving than mocking, however, and it’s that look that makes Kim Dokja play the perfect role of the feeble victim while he mindlessly hops and makes ungraceful swipes for it in the air.
“Yoo Joonghuk!” He yells, just like a feeble victim would. “Don’t tell me this was what you were looking for this entire time.”
His dodging hand freezes. Kim Dokja’s slap lands over his fist, but the bastard still doesn’t let the doll go.
“The scenario conditions,” Yoo Joonghyuk coughs. “It was to fulfill the interest of the constellations. That’s why.”
[Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ feels fulfilled.]
“ That’s why? ” Kim Dokja nearly grabs him by his stupid coat and shakes him around, if not for the doll’s pitiful face being all scrunched up. Does he think that he’ll be let off easy after all this? With such a flimsy excuse as to why he had no qualms trying to look into his underwear drawer? “Yoo Joonghyuk, you don’t care about the constellations!”
Maybe on another day, Yoo Joonghyuk would have brandished his sword at Kim Dokja shamelessly claiming to know him so personally, but with a single gesture towards the dresser, he grunts like a caveman and drops the doll into Kim Dokja’s awaiting palm.
“The next condition is to spend the night here.” He says, eyes still staring at dollhyuk. Kim Dokja defensively covers it from sight.
“Do you really think this doll was all it took to clear the first?”
Yoo Joonghyuk nods. The small movement makes him want to scream.
“We’ve camped out in worse places,” Kim Dokja sighs and turns to survey the apartment. Well, there was only one bed, but he was not about to do this. “I’ll lay a blanket in the kitchen and you can sleep there.”
As expected, Yoo Joonghyuk stares at him like he lost his mind. It was just a joke, but of course, he wouldn’t understand.
“It’s my apartment, and don’t say that it isn’t. Didn’t you fall asleep standing before? I’m sure you can handle a couch.”
“Couch? You mean the chair.”
“-- couch.” He repeats, sharply. This guy only heard what he wanted to hear. “Fine– how about this, we’ll take turns on the bed. 70 to 20.”
“That doesn’t add to 100.”
“Knowing the two of us, we’ll spend the 10 arguing.”
[Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ feels very fulfilled.]
[Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ has sponsored 1,000 coins.]
[Constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ is asking if you are a married couple.]
“And of the doll?”
Kim Dokja stirs, wrapping the doll into his coat. He thought they were moving past this. “What about the doll?”
“What will you do with that?” Yoo Joonghyuk crosses his arms, objecting to the idea of having social decency and letting the topic go.
It’s true that the doll was made in the image of Yoo Joonghyuk before he existed. Kim Dokja would never own a doll of a real person, especially someone he knew, for obvious reasons. He should probably clear the air about not being a freak and let Yoo Joonghyuk decide what happens to the doll.
“...I’ll decide later.” He says, shifting on his feet. The doll hugs against his chest, still fluffy and soft. “For now, let’s complete the scenario.”
The Star Stream still surprises him, even now.
They end up sharing the twin-size bed, and Yoo Joonghyuk forces Kim Dokja to leave the doll on the couch overnight. He says nothing about the little pillow he found on the bed and tosses it aside, and uncharacteristically kindly says nothing when he finds piles and piles of miniature items and clothes when he pulls back the other two blanket layers.
Kim Dokja nearly forgot about that too. The day he left for work that morning was August 3rd, and he was on the subway back to celebrate the birthday of a nonexistent person with a non-living doll. This is why a story needed mystery about it’s closest characters, otherwise all the reader would think about was how they owned a doll of a fictional person and routinely dressed them up in little outfits.
He slams the cabinet shut, all of Dollhyuk’s things jostling inside it.
—
When they return to the complex, Kim Dokja stalls for two days before he decides to burn the damn thing. Doll Yoo Joonghyuk will only bring him grievances from now on, especially with Han Sooyoung being around. Just imagining what she’d say if she found out makes his shoulders shudder.
The doll rests heavier than Peaceland’s metal in his hand, its glaring eyes staring back at him like it always did whenever he silently left for work, and when he came home weary and tired and ready to just fall into bed for the rest of the evening. Dollhyuk’s dewy eyes and thick eyebrows peer up at him pitifully, as if asking if their companionship was so easy to throw away.
Really… how bad would it be to just keep it…? What’s the worst that could happen…
By then, the doll had already slid back into his arms, and Kim Dokja not-so-shamefully slid back into his room.