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Chapter Text

Lee Jihye is talking about otome games, and Yoo Joonghyuk could not care less.

First of all– what self-respecting pro gamer (ex pro gamer, technically, but he digresses) plays otome games? They're the stuff of teenage hearts and yandere love rivals, neither of which apply to Yoo Joonghyuk. If anything, they apply more to Lee Jihye herself (teenage heart) and the late Kim Namwoon (possible yandere?), who Joonghyuk had wanted to recruit in this regression, only to find out he had died to an annoying squid before the second scenario had even started.

Kim Dokja… what a fool.

Joonghyuk glowers down at his sword currently laid across his lap. He’s running a dull cloth over it which does nothing to help the sharpness nor lustre of the blade, but at the very least it's a welcome distraction from Jihye’s incessant yapping.

“It's like,” comes her voice, over to his left– he tries surreptitiously to ignore her. It doesn't work. “All those games, Diabolik Lovers, Mystic Messenger, they all have one of those… What's it called? Point system? Affection system? So you have to like, collect points with the love interests, and then…”

With each word that comes out of her mouth Joonghyuk can feel the muscle under his eye wind itself up tighter and tighter, tighter and tighter, until he's fairly sure it has begun twitching in a very unflattering way. Jihye is still going.

“...So I was thinking. Isn't this world kind of like a game now? We have the Dokkaebi Shop, and we have all these skills and stat points and the Star Stream’s system, so why don't we have affection systems as well? It's not like I have anyone to use it on, but…”

Here Jihye’s voice, the vocal equivalent of a drunk man– wandering and rambling increasingly off-course with a bottle clutched in his hand– suddenly stutters to a halt, and Joonghyuk looks up from his sword. She's turned her face towards him now and her brows are furrowing together into that little thoughtful frown that he's learned to associate with bad and No, Jihye, stop searching up pictures of ‘Pro gamer Yoo Joonghyuk young'. Her eyes, dark and lively, flicker to his then dart down to his fists, now clenched and lying flat on the flat of his blade, which seem to strike a chord in her.

Her eyes physically brighten and Joonghyuk prepares himself for the utter nonsense that will undoubtedly exit her mouth in the next few seconds.

“Right, you and that ugly ahjussi!” It's nearly a crow with how loud her voice suddenly goes– spiking double in volume. She delivers this with all the subtle excitement of a bull charging into a china shop. “You could probably use that affection system on him, right? Because you’re…”

She waggles her brows at him.

Joonghyuk isn’t all that sure what that’s supposed to mean or imply but he isn't liking the sound of it just from the impish look on her face.

“No.” He shuts it down with a single word, returning to his sword. “Whatever you're cooking up in that head of yours, keep it there.”

He lowers his head, removing the cloth from the blade. It's been polished so much that it's reflecting his own face back at him: forehead clenched into a frown so deep it seems like a permanent wrinkle, jaw clenched, a vein nearly popping into definition on his temple. A normal day spent in the company of a talkative high school girl– really, after two regressions with Jihye as his apprentice, he should be used to her chatter by now.

He can practically hear Jihye's shit eating grin etched into her voice. “But–”

“No.”

“Even if he and that pretty unnie, that brown haired one–”

“Jihye.”

“Ugh, fine.”

A long moment of silence: peace. A rarity around her. Then she's talking again.

“Are you a hundred percent sure games don't work after the apocalypse anymore, because I want to show your little sister my progress on Mystic Messenger–”

Mia. Who is twelve. Who has no concept of dating because she's too busy being on her ipad playing some kind of blox game where her avatar leaps from one platform to another or planting block flowers in a garden and asking him for game currency so she can buy more seeds. Mia playing an otome game.

Jihye’s voice slowly dies out. She dares one glance at his face which is rapidly clouding over, thunderous, and pales. She drags her fingers over her mouth in a zipping motion and her head jerks up and down in comically large nods, but by then, all Joonghyuk can see is an omen of the future: Lee Jihye presenting her phone to Mia, Love and Deepspace gleaming enticingly on the screen, and thus the insidious world of pixelated men and gacha addiction sinks its claws into his younger sister.

He won't allow this.

Clearly, Jihye can sense his resolve too because her survival kicks in for once. Seconds later, she goes flying off into the distance, already running, and her shriek follows soon after.

“Why're you taking your sword out, I literally shut up– Master–!”

Affection system.

Later that night, Yoo Joonghyuk is lying on the ground, his head pillowed by some random bags left in the subway station– one still smells faintly of cologne, a little too strong for his taste– and staring up at the dark ceiling of the station. The lights are out because the bulbs stopped working the day the apocalypse hit. It's a familiar sight and a familiar feeling: the hard ground, the neon glow of the exit signs somehow still stubbornly working, the faint scent of blood still lingering in the air, even if the station is deserted. Any other day or any other regression he would've been asleep by now. Rest is vital for peak performance.

Still this regression in particular, he's been losing far more sleep. Too many uncontrolled variables, too many unknowns, too many…

Too many squids, he decides with a scowl, glaring up at the ceiling.

Kim Dokja has never appeared in any of his regressions before. He's odd and he's conniving, and he's a slimy weasel who somehow manages to needle his way under Joonghyuk’s skin when he'd thought himself impenetrable. He's also managed to gather around him an oddly loyal, oddly competent group, poaching Lee Hyunsung away from Joonghyuk’s plans in the process.

Joonghyuk doesn't like to deviate from what's known. He likes what he can see and what he can control: the tangible, corporeal and solid under his hands. Lee Jihye is something he can deal with. Lee Hyunsung he can easily handle. Kim Namwoon, too, until Kim Dokja decided he was too dangerous to keep alive. Whatever the case, Joonghyuk sticks to what he knows; what he knows will work. That's the point of regression, after all– to make use of what he knows from the past.

Kim Dokja is a flaw in that system. He's the tiniest cog that shouldn't exist but somehow clings to survival with astounding stubbornness and he trips up the entire system Joonghyuk’s being revolves around.

It just doesn't make sense no matter how much he mulls over it in his mind. If Kim Dokja is so competent, if he truly is a prophet like he claims to be, why hasn't he appeared in the previous turns? Surely he wouldn't have died so early on in the first scenario if he could see the future. Surely he should've stayed a constant, like everything else in Yoo Joonghyuk’s life.

Perhaps it's a fool’s pipe dream or just the odd novelty of having something so ephemeral in a life of relentless slog, but for a split second, Jihye’s words cross his mind once again. Affection system. For… Kim Dokja.

For all he knows, it might not even work on him– Kim Dokja seems to have some kind of mental protection skill, a strong one at that, high-rank enough to block his [Sage’s Eye] even in the first scenario. Something as elementary as an otome game affection system likely wouldn't even be able to read his emotions, much less his affection.

It feels so bizarre to be contemplating such a juvenile idea that he nearly scoffs out loud at the ceiling. Why is he even entertaining such an idea? Things like affection and sentiment don't have a place in his [Story], nor are they remotely of value in a place like the Star Stream. They're paltry trinkets of a past life. Regalia abandoned to gather dust.

Such things, like most of life, are ultimately worthless.

Still, it takes him another thirteen minutes to banish all thoughts of conniving bastards and otome systems from his mind before he finally succumbs to merciful slumber.

Yoo Joonghyuk wakes up with a headache so bad he almost ignores the screen in front of him as a product of a regular system window before he blinks hard to dismiss it and the blue screen remains floating in front of him. He has half a mind to just go back to sleep– it's still early out, judging by the light grey sunlight seeping through the shattered station windows, and Jihye is still sleeping.

All his sleepiness, however, vanishes the moment he fully opens his eyes and reads the contents of the screen.

Joonghyuk feels his brain audibly make that groaning sound an overworked car makes when it's trying to rev up its engine.

One blink. Two blinks. And then, this time, another system window:

Affection system.

The situation is so utterly bizarre that perhaps he can't even fault his mind for immediately leaping to Lee Jihye’s words from last night. Affection system… ugly ahjussi… Kim Dokja….

As if sensing the direction his thoughts are drifting in, the system window suddenly pulses bright pink before settling back to the normal Star Stream blue. The white words on the window roll backwards and rapidly reshuffle back into existence, this time into a series of sentences Yoo Joonghyuk really wishes he couldn't comprehend.

No. This cannot be going where he thinks it's going. Frantically, he attempts to wipe his mind of all thoughts of squids and conmans and cheating bastards– anything but that. Mia, Jihye, even Lee Seolhwa–

Ding!

…Fuck.

These meddling constellations.

Several blue boxes spring up as soon as Yoo Joonghyuk opens his eyes, ruining his day thoroughly before it's even had the opportunity to start.

It's been two days since the affection system came to life, and begrudgingly, Yoo Joonghyuk must accept that this… this thing, this abomination of nature, is not a stress-induced hallucination his mind has decided to spring onto him, nor has he gone insane under the combined weight of multiple regressions and finally snapped. Instead, it seems to be a sub-scenario commissioned directly from the [Goddess of Love and Beauty] herself– none other than Olympus’ Aphrodite.

(He blames Lee Jihye for introducing the constellations to the concept of otome game systems.)

Much to his irritation, it doesn't seem to be only Aphrodite, either– Uriel also seems to be enjoying this far too much for his liking. How many coins has he received from her these two days? A few thousand?

Uriel, who had been a fearsome, ruthless hunter of demons in the previous turns, is now paying unnecessary attention to the relationship between him and Kim Dokja like one of those manga-loving teenage girls, and loses her mind if he as much as mentions Kim Dokja in a conversation.

It's a decent source of coins; being from the well-off [Eden], her donations are certainly hefty, but other than that, Joonghyuk doesn't plan on enabling her any further, unlike some conmen who purposefully use their personal relationship to wrangle coins from constellations.

With a sigh, he sits up. Jihye is already awake, having been on watch earlier, crouching over the remains of their food: all scavenged from nearby convenience stores and supermarkets. Joonghyuk knows this area by heart by now, including which stores have been raided by others and which still have supplies, so food has never been a concern for them. There, she's rootling through the mess, picking up a small muffin in a plastic package before pulling a face.

She doesn't hear him walking up to her until he taps the top of her head with his knuckles; she visibly startles before she settles down again. “Oh, it's you, Master.”

He makes some kind of noncommittal noise as a response.

The same muffin comes hurtling at him a moment later and he catches it with one hand, the other resting on his sword. It's orange flavoured. That must've been why she pulled that face; she doesn't like orange flavoured things. She's just like Mia, in a way– still picky like a child.

He drops it back next to her. It skitters onto the floor where she grabs it with another pulled face. “What, you don't like orange either?”

“No.” He draws his sword. “I don't eat food I didn't make myself.”

Her brows arch. “But no one made this. A machine in a factory probably did.”

“Doesn't matter. I'll hunt something. Don't cause any trouble while I'm gone.”

She shrugs and goes back to riffling through the food in a crinkle of plastic. Joonghyuk heads into the back of the station. It's effortless to hop onto the tracks and into the black of the tunnel, where he can already hear a few rats skittering about in the darkness, claws screeching tinily on metal.

The constellations continue their incessant chatter as he cuts the monsters down. Blue notifications keep appearing and reappearing in his line of vision even after he dismisses the notifications. As expected, most of them are Uriel.

Typically, Yoo Joonghyuk is very good at ignoring things he doesn’t deign to give his full attention: constellation messages, offers of sponsorship, Lee Jihye, Kim Dokja’s untrustworthy smile. But maybe he’s shaken up from the sub-scenario or he’s just all that annoyed that keeping his cool seems a herculean task. Against his better judgement he glances at the messages.

A faint crease forms between his brows. These two… they're the last two constellations he would've expected to band together against him. As far as he knows, [Olympus] and [Eden] are not allies.

“Uriel.” He skewers another rat while he's at it. “Since when was [Eden] on friendly terms with [Olympus]?”

There's a moment of silence where Yoo Joonghyuk can picture Uriel behind the screen: hunched over, her white wings fluttering anxiously like a baby butterfly, gnawing on her nail as she ponders an answer that won't upset [Eden]. It's an image completely incongruous with the Uriel he knows, yet… strangely in character for the Uriel of this regression.

What ominous wording.

Yoo Joonghyuk continues moving forward through the tunnel. It's fortunate the darkness is half obscuring his scowl because he's fairly sure he's about to pop a vein. “To meddle in incarnations’ systems? Do constellations not have better entertainment? Constellations of your kind typically commission different scenarios.”

He wants to say bloodier scenarios but he holds it at the tip of his tongue instead.

Besides…

Since when does Aphrodite meddle in homoerotic affairs? As far as he knows, he's only ever heard of Aphrodite sponsoring heterosexual couples.

But then again, considering the nature of Greek mythology and history, it's not all that surprising that the Goddess of Love and Beauty is interested in the queer, too.

Another rat comes skittering out of the darkness. With a flick of his wrist, he stabs it through the centre and pulls the sword back, crimson splattering across the floor. That makes three rats; good enough for the whole day’s meals. Surprisingly, monster rats make for a decent meal; a bit gamey and tougher on the mouth than pork, but decent enough.

He decides to try it anyway, as a last ditch effort. Surely any heterosexual couple would be more interesting than watching him and Kim Dokja. Surely Aphrodite has better things to do.

He speaks out loud, knowing the stars will hear him: “Are there no other couples more suited to your tastes? Even– for Gods’ sake, Kim Dokja and that brown haired woman. That bastard and I…”

There's a bond between them, for sure; he's seen it before. The brown haired woman and Kim Dokja. They were together in the first scenario and they're together now. Somehow they tend to gravitate together like puppets. Hands brushing, wiry gazes entangling. Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t too sure how he feels about it but then again he’s not too sure how he feels about the untested variable that is Kim Dokja anyway.

Joonghyuk has to take several deep breaths. One in one out. Slow and steady. Slow and steady.

It doesn't work.

“For the last time, I don't like men–!”

Now that Yoo Joonghyuk has discovered the culprits behind this cursed affliction, he finds himself at a loss for what to do for once. This too is a novelty for a regressor like him who knows everything, but not exactly one he has the time nor effort to contemplate at the moment given he’s currently lying on the ground face down on the edge of consciousness.

Out of the corner of his eye he strains to see. The culprit is standing a few feet away. Kim Dokja is still posed to fight with his fist held out from the punch he’d given Joonghyuk and his eyes are wide like the fool he is. He looks surprised. Arcs of electricity dance around his clenched fists. How embarrassing– Yoo Joonghyuk has been taken out by an idiot king.

Regrettably, Joonghyuk can’t move at the moment, so he lies there like a dead fish while Kim Dokja hurries over to his side, calling his name.

He hooks his hand into the collar of Joonghyuk’s jacket and lifts him like a sad kitten. He does his best to glare at Kim Dokja but he just looks mildly taken aback by his open eyes.

“Whoa, you startled me.” Kim Dokja stares at him but when he receives no response– Yoo Joonghyuk’s tongue is leaden– he seems to assume he’s unconscious. Kim Dokja starts mumbling. “Has he passed out with his eyes open? The novel never…”

Joonghyuk’s desire to hurl Kim Dokja off the nearest bridge intensifies as he starts smacking the side of Joonghyuk’s face. Presumably he’s doing this to wake Yoo Joonghyuk up but it does nothing to achieve that aim and instead just renews the annoyance he feels.

“...”

“You should have been nicer to me,” Kim Dokja declares out of nowhere and pats his cheek in such a patronising way Yoo Joonghyuk’s blood pressure rises exponentially. “How can you threaten to kill me every time you see me? It’s disheartening. Well, this is my only chance to slap you, so I guess it’s not too bad.”

He grabs Joonghyuk’s face by the jaw suddenly and pulls it up gently towards the light. He’s looking down at him now, thoughtful and oddly pensive where he seems to be judging Yoo Joonghyuk’s face like an appraiser judges a jewel.

“Huh, this bastard’s face really is wasted on him.”

Joonghyuk’s head is tilted left and right, really not great for his consciousness which has begun to slip further and further away (courtesy of Kim Dokja’s supercharged punch– he must’ve poured all his coins into maxing his strength stat). Kim Dokja is still musing low and thoughtless like a drone of rain in the background: “Jeez. If he wasn’t such an asshole, even I’d fall for him.”

The comment is so bizarrely out of place that it takes Joonghyuk’s half-conscious mind three long moments to process. Even more bizarre is the first thought that comes to mind: Uriel was right– Kim Dokja likes men.

As if on cue, sensitive to any mention of romantic attraction, the familiar blue boxes begin to spring up in Joonghyuk’s vision again and don’t go away even when Joonghyuk resolutely ignores them.

Joonghyuk’s consciousness is shrinking fast but even then he has the awareness to question why exactly the affection stat is so stupidly high when Kim Dokja drops his face unceremoniously back onto the ground and leaves. Yoo Joonghyuk passes out and misses the entirety of the Absolute Throne’s demolition and Kim Dokja’s troublesome antics.

For a while after that, everything seems fine. Joonghyuk hears about Kim Dokja destroying the [Absolute Throne] but it’s not the worst decision– Joonghyuk himself would’ve done that too. It’s peaceful, or as much as it can be while being in an apocalypse, which he spends clearing side scenarios and finding hidden pieces around Seoul. It’s monotonous work.

Of course, this all goes to hell and Yoo Joonghyuk somehow ends up comatose on the ground once again before Kim Dokja.

It all seems oddly familiar as Kim Dokja gapes at him from above with the same dumbfounded look as before. How is this fool a prophet when he always looks perpetually confused about what’s going on in front of him? Joonghyuk snaps his eyes as wide as they can possibly go and levels his most baleful glare at him– partially because of the punch from the Kings’ Selection and partially just because.

Kim Dokja physically flinches backwards, nearly leaps across the street.

“Hey, can’t you just let it go already? It was a fair fight. You can’t hold that against me. And you tried to kill me too–!”

This brings him great satisfaction. Maybe a little annoyance. Frightened because of a simple glare– as if Yoo Joonghyuk hasn’t done worse to him. He should be used to this by now. Is he really fit to be Yoo Joonghyuk’s companion if he’s so easily rattled?

He opens his mouth and tries to speak, but just shifting his lips apart feels herculean. He can just about mutter a few words but not to great success. Kim Dokja keeps staring at him with bewilderment like a confused chihuahua.

Joonghyuk gives up. He resigns himself and refocuses his efforts in thinking as loud as he can in Kim Dokja’s direction. It’s a reasonable assumption at this point that he has a mind-reading skill or something of the sort; it saves the effort of talking.

It’s as if Kim Dokja has been struck physically and his eyes blow wide. He lilts back slightly on his heels with the impact of it. He keeps his hand loosely wrapped around the hilt of his sword, flexes and unflexes indecisively. He can hear Yoo Joonghyuk.

An odd ache builds up in Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest. It suffocates him and he’s not entirely sure whether it’s the [Thousand Spirit Poison] eating him from the inside out or something else. His train of thought derails for a slow long moment. This world will what? Perish? Die? What does it matter if he dies here when he’ll just wake up in the next train car again?

Things get blurry after this point. The poison– Seolhwa’s poison– has completed its circuit around his whole body and seems dead set on wrecking his internal function, bringing with it waves of pain that feel like fiery claws digging into his marrow and gnawing on frayed nerves. He can vaguely hear Kim Dokja’s voice and another higher one, a woman. Snatches of words and conversation flow by his ears like a river.

Something putrid and foul reaches his nose. He would’ve rolled away from the source of the scent which seems to be the left of him, near where Kim Dokja is, but an arm slides under his head and tips it upwards again. Bizarrely with his eyes closed Yoo Joonghyuk thinks of the Kings’ Selection ordeal and Kim Dokja’s inordinately high affection stat before something is behind pushed between his lips.

It’s knee jerk instinct to push back. The object is cold and metallic, the edge rounded. It knocks against his teeth as Kim Dokja tries to push further but to no avail. There’s a whisper of a curse above him, a hiss of annoyance.

“What is that?” The female voice.

Yoo Joonghyuk recognises the object as a spoon as Kim Dokja replies. “An antidote.”

A pause. The spoon retracts. “He’s not making it very easy for me to give it to him, though. Annoying bastard.”

A snort. “So you’ve decided to help him?”

Kim Dokja’s voice lacks the smarmy quality it usually has. “I think he came to me on purpose.”

“On purpose? You mean he came to ask for help? I don’t think he came all this way in that state to kill you.”

“There’s no way he’d do that.”

The woman seems to be pondering over this. Shoes scuffle on the ground; she’s pacing. “How do you know?”

Yoo Joonghyuk feels the arm supporting his head grow tense fractionally. This is the first time he’s been close enough to Kim Dokja without it being a fight or some other tense situation; Kim Dokja’s forearm is solid, not muscular but not weak either. In all aspects he seems ordinary. Middle of the group in physique, skill, talent. It’s his intellect that sets him apart. Perhaps that’s why Yoo Joonghyuk hasn’t killed him yet.

“I just do.” The spoon hovers tentatively over his lips again, nudges hesitantly. For all his bluster Kim Dokja is being remarkably gentle with Joonghyuk right now. “That’s just the kind of person he is.”

At first Joonghyuk wants to laugh. What does Kim Dokja know about him? What can he possibly know about him? Yoo Joonghyuk knows but he isn’t known. Notoriety isn’t comprehension. What everyone sees, the Supreme King, is hardly even scratching the surface of Yoo Joonghyuk’s endless life. For a long time he has told himself that this is the way it has to be. To survive and persevere, he must not be [Yoo Joonghyuk], but he must become the [Regressor] with no attachments.

But then the sheer conviction in Kim Dokja’s voice haunts him. He sounds, he is utterly convinced that he understands Yoo Joonghyuk personally. Something about that presumption makes Yoo Joonghyuk angry and almost sick, coating the inside of his mouth with an oily film. It shouldn’t make him angry and it’s irrational but it does. It makes him deeply uncomfortable, prickles all over.

But it also makes him warm somewhere in his chest and it feels marginally less suffocating.

On a good day Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t like to think about his emotions lest it sends him toppling headfirst into a depressive haze and he doesn’t like to think about it much less when he’s borderline being cradled in a smarmy conman’s arms being hand-fed a disgusting homemade antidote. Yet ever since Kim Dokja’s appearance in this regression, Yoo Joonghyuk seems to be breaking his rules one by one.

So for the first time since he was sixteen, Yoo Joonghyuk opens his mouth, swallows the spoonful of liquid, and lets himself eat food made by others.

“Finally.”

Joonghyuk can hear the smile in Kim Dokja’s voice. For no reason at all he wants to open his eyes and see it for himself before he suppresses it.

It seems to take an eternity to finish the whole antidote Kim Dokja has cooked up. It tastes horrid like a mixture of tree bark and some kind of unpleasantly grassy slimy liquidy texture but he chokes it all down, tamps down on it. [Thousand Spirit Poison] is no easy thing to cure and he needs his strength for what comes next.

(Kim Dokja’s affection stat has been rising steadily in tiny 0.02 increments over the course of this odd feeding exercise which Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t want to dwell on at the moment.)

He thinks, now that he can think, that Kim Dokja is an awful cook. It seems harmonious with his job as a salaryman that he wouldn’t be good at cooking. He’s probably the type of overworked corporate slave that lived off of convenience kimbap and instant ramyeon prior to the apocalypse. Perhaps that’s why he seems so scrawny all the time, exacerbated when he stands next to the mountain of a man that is Lee Hyunsung.

It’s been a while since Yoo Joonghyuk cooked properly in the kitchen too. The last time he remembers was for Mia before the apocalypse. But that too feels like a lifetime ago– when he regresses, he regresses after that moment in time. Like much of his untainted memories, he can never experience it again.

He still has his eyes closed as he finishes the last few spoonfuls– the last few dregs, Kim Dokja promises him when he sees Yoo Joonghyuk’s brows clench into a frown at the taste. The woman still hasn’t stopped talking, she’s still chattering on, has been for the past ten minutes.

“You two would make a great couple.”

Kim Dokja’s hand which is holding the spoon stops momentarily. “Do you want to feed him?”

“No.”

This must be the First Apostle whose avatar he beheaded before. Understandably she doesn’t want to feed him. Joonghyuk isn’t inclined for her to do so either.

Kim Dokja’s hand slips again and for a foolish moment Yoo Joonghyuk thinks he’s just as disturbed by these messages as Joonghyuk is before he returns to feeding Joonghyuk with renewed fervor. He even plays it up, dabbing away a bit of the antidote liquid on the edge of Joonghyuk’s lip.

Even without opening his eyes Joonghyuk can imagine the scheming look on his face. What a money-hungry bastard.

The spoon knocks uncomfortably against his teeth. Joonghyuk decides he’s had enough and forces his eyes open, blinks quickly against the sudden deluge of light, stares up at Kim Dokja. Somewhere along the line his head has been moved to lie against Kim Dokja’s thighs instead of being held up by his forearm, which is how he realises the change in attire.

In place of the large grey robe he’d been wearing during the Kings’ Selection, Kim Dokja has picked up a proper suit somewhere, with a dark grey shirt and a dark brown tie. He’s even found suspenders which Yoo Joonghyuk finds unnecessary in the apocalypse but at least it goes with the suit. It certainly fits his complexion better than the awfully ill-fitting grey suit he’d been wearing at their first meeting. Evidently it had been his work clothing.

As soon as Kim Dokja realises he’s awake, he pushes Joonghyuk’s head off his lap and it thumps back onto the solid concrete of the road. Joonghyuk opens his mouth, attempts to say something like ‘You fool’, but his tongue is still paralysed from the poison. Strands of hair are sticking uncomfortably to his forehead with sweat and dust.

“Hey.” Kim Dokja looks down at him, says without infliction. “You’re back.”

Joonghyuk glances around Kim Dokja or does the best he can with the majority of his body still paralysed. There’s the briefest shadow behind the nearest street corner. The woman is gnawing on the side of her thumb, sneaking glances over at them– trying hard not to seem like she’s eavesdropping.

He accepts the request.

Kim Dokja might be scrawny but at least he has the brains to invest coins in his stats to keep up. Otherwise, Joonghyuk is pretty sure he would’ve collapsed under the weight of carrying Joonghuyk on his back and sprinting at top speed.

Kim Dokja has his hands under Yoo Joonghyuk’s legs and is carrying the majority of his weight against his back. It had taken a great deal of maneuvering to get Joonghyuk’s limp-as-flour paralysed full weight over Kim Dokja’s shoulders. During which, naturally, the First Apostle woman did not help.

Joonghyuk keeps his head on Kim Dokja’s shoulder and deliberates what level Kim Dokja’s strength stat must be now. From that punch at the Kings’ Selection, it couldn’t have been below level 80 even back then. For a hit to knock him out of commission, it must have at least been over level 90. So is it level 100?

Not that he’s necessarily surprised. Kim Dokja is a master of performance. He must have received tens of thousands in donations by now– a regular incarnation couldn’t even begin to dream of such numbers.

Kim Dokja looks over his shoulder at the First Apostle. She’s running alongside them with her hair whipping about like jumpy shadows, pushing it out of the way every once in a while. Keeps staring at the two of them.

“What, you want to carry him?” Kim Dokja says this with a deadpan rivalling Joonghyuk’s own. “Can’t you use your avatar? It’d be more convenient.”

The woman skids back startled squirrel style. Joonghyuk watches the bemusement melt off her face into sticky disdain-danger. “No way. If it were you, would you be able to carry someone who’s decapitated you?”

“He’s tried to kill me.”

Joonghyuk grits his teeth; he should do it now, being very frank, he would probably do it if not for the paralysing poison.

“Yeah, but he actually killed me. There’s a difference.”

“He killed your avatar, not you. There’s a difference.”

The woman puffs up like a pufferfish in indignation. “It had my memories– It was a part of me!”

Kim Dokja reads the [Midday Tryst] message and ignores the woman’s spluttering. His face is blurred which Joonghyuk chalks up to some kind of mental protection skill, the very same that protects him against [Sage’s Eye], so his facial expressions are unreadable. Still an air of disbelief– maybe petulance– seems to exude out of nowhere.

Like many other things Kim Dokja says, this does give Joonghyuk some pause. Trust is almost a defamiliarised concept. He trusts himself. He trusts Lee Jihye to an extent. Apart from that, who else does he trust? Kim Dokja may be an ally for now, but he’s still an untested variable with his own group of allies who could turn against Joonghyuk any day, and he certainly doesn’t trust the First Apostle.

Some gingery feeling has returned to the tips of his fingers. He jabs Kim Dokja in the ribs who yelps.

The problem is, two days is an awfully long time to be out of commission. 48 hours of missed events… and not to mention, he’ll be defenceless if Kim Dokja really does dump him on the side of the road like a bag of trash.

Not for the first time, Yoo Joonghyuk calculates the probability of this actually occurring. It’s not too high since Kim Dokja has shown a propensity to want to be Joonghyuk’s ally since the beginning; surely he wouldn’t just abandon him (even if he says so.) The thing with Kim Dokja is that he says one thing but does another, promises one thing and exploits another loophole.

And then there’s also the affection stat.

It’s barely any higher than it had been at the Kings’ Selection a few days back. A 0.5 increase is infinitesimal. Kim Dokja’s affection is about as turbulent as Yoo Mia’s temper; a glare had sent it falling, but letting him feed Joonghyuk had increased it again by small amounts. Point is, it’s not easy to increase Kim Dokja’s affection from Joonghyuk’s observations, because when it decreases, it plummets; when it increases, it’s only a tiny inching upwards.

It begs the question of how Kim Dokja’s affection even got that high to begin with. 82 isn’t a small number but it’s illogical from Joonghyuk’s point of view because they’re not particularly close. He’d tossed the man into the mouth of a sea monster on their first meeting, even– no normal person would like someone who’d tried to kill them.

Joonghyuk knows perfectly well Kim Dokja’s personality isn’t normal by any means but even then this seems out of the ordinary for him.

His thoughts start veering into implausible territory. Is Kim Dokja masochistic or what? Did he want to be thrown into the monster’s stomach? He can’t be, given his affection decreased when he was frightened. But still this is the only explanation Yoo Joonghyuk can think of and he finds it incredibly far-fetched.

Joonghyuk decides to test his newfound hypothesis.

Another window suddenly pops into view. It blinks bright red once before melting back into the typical blue of all system windows. Joonghyuk falls silent.

So… not a masochist, then.

Yoo Joonghyuk falls asleep on Kim Dokja’s back. He’s coming through the door of the house where the scent of freshly made laundry hazes his senses and white hair blinds him for a moment, she’s standing at the crib in the corner of their bedroom rocking back and forth. It’s so beautiful his chest seizes with a sudden lance of pain. It’s not a dream if he stays here forever.

They come across a group shooting arrows at them and Yoo Joonghyuk is promptly transferred from Kim Dokja’s back to one of the First Apostle’s clones who staggers mildly under his weight and glares at him as if her incompetence is fault of his. Joonghyuk watches through half-slit eyes as that brown haired woman, Yoo Sangah, descends from the sky and cuts through bodies like a hot knife through butter. Arcs of golden light ensnare necks and limbs and sever flesh and bone.

He recognises this stigma immediately: [Ariadne’s Web] from the nebula [Olympus]. [Abandoned Lover of the Labyrinth] must be Yoo Sangah’s sponsor.

Just to be sure, he uses [Sage's Eye] and his head begins to pulse. Troublesome– it's not just Ariadne. Yoo Sangah is being supported by the whole of [Olympus].

Kim Dokja barely glances at the message before his gaze clouds over with doubt.

Things are almost painfully awkward after the fight. The clone deposits him unceremoniously against the side of a wall, leaving his head lolling forward like a puppet. He can just about make out Kim Dokja squaring up to talk to Yoo Sangah.

“Sangah-ssi, are you alright?” Kim Dokja swipes the back of his hand against his face. He’s still breathing hard from running.

Yoo Sangah is bending over with her hands on her knees; she perks up. “I’m fine. What about you, Dokja-ssi?”

“Ah, I’m okay too.”

“...”

“...”

Yoo Joonghyuk understands now why Aphrodite had no interest in this pairing. They’re utterly… How should he say it? Overly polite? Corporate, as if they’re still at the office? It feels almost wrong hearing Kim Dokja, who addresses Yoo Joonghyuk by name overly familiarly, address someone so formally. Or perhaps that means Kim Dokja respects Yoo Sangah more than he respects Joonghyuk.

That thought needles him.

“You look like you’ve been through a lot,” Yoo Sangah says a little awkwardly. Her brown eyes flicker from Kim Dokja to the First Apostle woman skulking a little further away. A small frown.

Kim Dokja gestures at Yoo Sangah’s gear to draw her attention, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Yoo Joonghyuk has been around him long enough to realise that this is one of his quirks when curious. “Your gear looks high quality. How much was it from the shop?”

A black bodysuit, a cropped black jacket and tall boots. There are two sheathes strapped to her thighs where her daggers lie pressed close. Joonghyuk has never seen these items in the shop but he has an inkling of which nebula they’re from.

She clears her throat, looks a little apologetic. Rubs the back of her neck with one hand. “I came across a green meteorite. I think they have rare items so I took what I saw.”

The shadow at the back of the group darts forward. Standing directly in front of Yoo Sangah, the First Apostle is laughably small, craning her head upwards to look her in the eye. Challenge twists her mouth and lights her eyes fiery. “Is that really everything?”

The conversation balks.

“...What?”

“Let’s say somehow you got them by pure luck.” The First Apostle looks her up and down. “But those items alone couldn’t have made you that strong. Who’s your sponsor? Did they help you level up your [Agile Movement] and [Reinforced Knife Fighting] skills? That level of growth is impossible even with a premium growth package.”

They stare at each other for a moment. One light one dark.

“And who are you?” Yoo Sangah inquires after a long pause. She fights to keep her voice level but Joonghyuk can see the beginning of cracks in her face.

“The First Apostle.”

It’s like a silent imploding happens in Yoo Sangah’s brain. Silent one moment then she explodes into a blur of motion quick even to Joonghyuk’s senses, lunging forward with her knives out.

The First Apostle skids backwards as Kim Dokja jumps in between them. Yoo Sangah’s dagger stops inches from his face. She stares at him in disbelief; betrayal, eyes swimming with confusion.

“Sangah-ssi, wait! She’s not an enemy.”

Yoo Sangah makes another aborted jerk towards the First Apostle half-ducked behind Kim Dokja. Her eyes gleam in provocation.

“You two… are friends already?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. Listen–”

“She killed everyone in the Chungmuro group! Did you forget?”

The First Apostle looks completely unrepentant. Snickers, even, like a child thumbing their nose at a teacher. “Oh, you’re that girl from back then. You’re hiding something. You weren’t that strong back in Chungmuro. Is it just me, or is that suspicious?”

It's not as though the First Apostle is wrong. Yoo Sangah being backed by a whole nebula explains her level of explosive growth. The First Apostle might not know she's sponsored by [Olympus] but she's right to suspect Yoo Sangah is being supported by something more powerful than the constellations of the Korean Peninsula.

“You know I’m not lying,” the First Apostle continues. Shrugs. “There’s no way she could’ve improved that quickly, unless she has an SSS-grade growth skill. But… how many constellations can provide their incarnations with such a high tier skill? In Korea, of all places?”

Yoo Sangah’s eyes flare wide. She’s turning red, two spots of colour standing out on the tops of her cheekbones. “You–!”

Joonghyuk watches her leg muscles tense and resigns himself to watching Kim Dokja try and break up another brawl for the next twenty inefficient minutes when light, red and radiant, bursts through the window of the building. It almost blinds him when a system window pops up, almost as bright as the light outside.

A vein throbs in his temple. They’re out of time.