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Yoo Joonghyuk-nim is a very odd man. He is also a very, very rich man.
He never showed himself anywhere, but everyone knew him. He never spoke to anyone, yet gossip would litter the streets. Rumor said he was of old, old money.
Kim Dokja isn’t a very loved kid. He is also a very withdrawn kid.
And yet, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim had chosen him, out of everyone else, to be his personal reader.
Yoo Joonghyuk-nim had some sort of eye condition – Kim Dokja thinks it was called cataracts. It made one of Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s eyes look white and clear – and in certain lighting, like sunset through the windows, it would shine gold. Even if cataracts isn’t a good thing, Kim Dokja thinks it looks a little cool. Especially on Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s face, which has a scar running down his cheek. In Kim Dokja's humble opinion, it doesn't take from Yoo Joonghyuk-nim's handsomeness at all. Even with his aging.
But since Yoo Joonghyuk-nim has difficulty seeing – let alone reading – he had hired Kim Dokja to read books aloud to him.
Three days a week, Kim Dokja visits Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s expansive mansion in a somewhat-secluded area in the woods. It’s huge and grand and beautiful, and Kim Dokja, being as low-class as one could get, is completely enamored by it. The first time he visited, he had stood in the foyer for about 10 minutes, cataloging every intricate detail, the ceiling layered with starry patterns, painting the universe over the walls. He ran a little late to their designated meeting spot – Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s personal study – but Yoo Joonghyuk-nim said he didn’t mind, only reminding him to be on time from then on.
However – if there’s one thing Kim Dokja doesn’t like about Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s home, it’s the dolls.
There were tiny dolls, all identical, on practically every surface of the house. Whenever Kim Dokja looked away, he could feel eyes on him, but whenever he looked back, they would be staring into the far distance. It was a little creepy. (A lot creepy.)
But, Kim Dokja is getting paid. His father couldn’t give a single shit about him, but his mother had encouraged him to give this opportunity a chance. To learn how to earn money, and take care of himself.
Kim Dokja still isn’t sure what Yoo Joonghyuk-nim sees in him, because he stumbles over his words sometimes. His voice is also quite monotone, and Kim Dokja thinks it sounds boring when he recites his sentences. But Kim Dokja, after each of their reading sessions, is lulled into a relaxed state – and when he looks at Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s face as he gets up to leave, and sees his tense eyebrows smoothed out into a curved line... he thinks Yoo Joonghyuk-nim feels the same way too.
His meetings with Yoo Joonghyuk-nim are the highlight of his week. It is also an effective distraction from the calamity that is his life.
He is glad that Yoo Joonghyuk-nim can’t see very well, because he would probably be concerned about the bruises staining his arms, neck, and face. Kim Dokja doesn’t think it would be very pleasant to look at. He's looked into a mirror, and judging by the way the kids look at him too, the sight of himself would probably ruin Yoo Joonghyuk-nim's experience.
But as his peers at school avoid him, Kim Dokja forms a tentative bond with Yoo Joonghyuk-nim.
Most of the stuff that Kim Dokja reads aloud are classics, with difficult, outdated lingo – but thankfully, Kim Dokja has spent lots and lots of time reading with his mom, so he actually knows a lot of the words. However, the topics still tend to fly over his head; maybe because he's still too young to understand.
And yet, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim repeatedly asks him many questions regarding the books that they read.
They’re pretty deep questions. Questions about the themes of the stories, and how that might apply to Kim Dokja. Questions about the meaning of life, and of certain things in life. Relationships, dreams, conflict and strife. One time, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim held up a 50,000-won note in front of him, and asked Kim Dokja how much value it had.
Oblivious, Kim Dokja had thought he simply couldn’t read the text, and answered, “50,000 won.”
“That is simply a number. Numbers don’t mean much to us unless we’re mathematicians,” Yoo Joonghyuk-nim elaborated. “But what value does this –” he sharply flapped the note in his hand, “– have to you?”
Kim Dokja had thought about it for a while, looking down at his scuffed, worn shoes. He wasn’t sure if he understood the question, but he still responds, “Mm... well, I mean – that can get me a lot of snacks. Some movie tickets... Ah, and a present for my mom, since Christmas is coming up soon.” Kim Dokja looked back up at Yoo Joonghyuk-nim to see his reaction, if Kim Dokja had answered properly.
Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s face only looked passive as always. “For a child, those aren’t bad things. You’re more focused on immediate gratification.” Kim Dokja didn’t really know what that meant, but he kept his mouth shut so he wouldn’t seem stupid. Yoo Joonghyuk-nim continued, “But let’s look at it a different way. What if I told you that this 50,000-won note could turn into 500,000 won?”
Kim Dokja remembers his mouth gaping after hearing that. “Are you a magician?” Kim Dokja had wondered out loud.
He saw Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s lips turn up a bit. “Not a magician. Just smart. If I invest this money – or rather, if I let this money rest within a company for a very long time, this money will eventually grow. But it can take years, and there’s a certain amount of risk involved,” Yoo Joonghyuk-nim explained. “There’s no guarantee that it will benefit you. Now, if I were to ask you, would you rather use this money now or later?”
Kim Dokja thought he had his answer, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.
“Is it a hard question?” Yoo Joonghyuk-nim speculated. “Even knowing the large difference, 50000 won is undoubtedly a lot of money. Why wait and risk it, when you could use what you have now?” Yoo Joonghyuk leaned his head on his hand, his elbow resting against the arm of his chair. “Life is a lot like that, Kim Dokja. It is opportunity and choice. Our lives are dictated by choice – some choices are good, some choices are stupid. Some choices are completely out of our control. But how about what is in our control?”
Yoo Joonghyuk-nim shook the banknote clipped between his fingers again. Kim Dokja was watching it all with a focused glimmer in his eyes. “We should try to be wise when and where we can. Keep that in mind.”
Kim Dokja nodded nervously, mentally storing the information within a filing cabinet in his brain. “Is that how you got rich, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim?”
“Yes,” he responded, though there was an odd gleam in his eye. “Among other things.”
When Kim Dokja got home that day with his weekly pay, he almost flew out of his seat when he saw the amount of money in the envelope – 500,000 won. Including his usual 10000 won salary.
He had rushed to their home phone and hurriedly dialed Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s number, even getting it wrong a few times. When the man picked up, Kim Dokja immediately rushed to speak, “Sorry to bother you, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim! I–I just, I think you put too much money in my envelope today. I’ll make sure to give it all back next week. I promise I didn’t steal this–”
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk-nim spoke deeply, his voice reverberating through the phone speakers. It was enough to shut Kim Dokja up. “It wasn’t a mistake. Use the extra money on whatever you’d like.”
Kim Dokja spluttered like a fish, utterly speechless, for a good five seconds. “This is too much money!”
“And there’s plenty more where it came from,” Yoo Joonghyuk-nim responded. He sounded a little amused, but Kim Dokja might have just been hearing things. “Just remember what I told you earlier. In the future, make sure to use these resources wisely.”
“Yes, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim,” Kim Dokja nervously affirmed, an excited smile bubbling up on his lips. “T–thank you! And good ni–”
Yoo Joonghyuk-nim hung up.
With his mother’s insistence, Kim Dokja made sure to hide his stash of money in a completely safe, secure, hidden place in the house, lest his father find it. He had a bad habit of spending all their money on alcohol and gambling. And if he got his hands on even more alcohol than usual – well. Kim Dokja didn’t want to think about that.
Kim Dokja was able to get his mother an inconspicuous gift, one that his father wouldn’t notice. It was a simple necklace, with a pendant that looked like a book. Other than that, the money in his stash wore down bit by bit, but not by any significant amount. Kim Dokja mainly used it to buy cheap candy or toys, the only things he was used to. Surprisingly enough, he felt uncomfortable, almost guilty, using the money.
But it was when Christmas came running along that he found something else to use his money on.
After twilight, his mother woke him up to give him his Christmas present, shushing him so as to not wake his father up. Underneath the moonlight, he opened up his present – a brand new phone.
He started trembling in his mother’s arms as she explained how she’s been saving up her meager amounts of money just to get him something special. She told him how she considered giving him more books, but heard that the new mobile phones allowed users to read novels straight from the device. She went on and on, even going so far as to say he could call all his friends on this device. Kim Dokja didn’t really have friends, and the only person he was on friendly terms with is Yoo Joonghyuk-nim – but Kim Dokja began to think that he didn’t mind the idea of calling or texting Yoo Joonghyuk-nim every once in a while. It excited him, really.
His mother truly was so amazing, though. He felt bad about his own present, the necklace. His mother positions it underneath her shirt, saying that she wanted to keep it as close to her heart as she could. And even though Kim Dokja knew it was just to keep the necklace out of his father’s sight, it still made him smile. He hugged her tight, but not too tight, or else the bruises on her abdomen would hurt. She hugged him back the same way.
Back in bed, he thought about letting Yoo Joonghyuk-nim be his first text – but then he abruptly remembered that Yoo Joonghyuk-nim didn’t own a modern mobile phone, and only exclusively used his old, classic home phone.
Kim Dokja knew what to get him for Christmas.
“No.”
Kim Dokja’s smile freezes, before turning into a small pout. His hand is still outstretched, holding a medium-sized box, wrapped with a ribbon. “You didn’t even open it yet...”
“I don’t need anything,” Yoo Joonghyuk-nim replies succinctly, although he still reaches out to accept the gift in Kim Dokja’s hand.
“At least see what it is! You can give it back to me if you still don’t like it.”
There’s the crunch of paper being unwrapped, and the soft rustle of it falling to the floor. There’s a bout of silence, before Yoo Joonghyuk-nim ultimately gives his verdict.
“...I appreciate the sentiment,” he begins. “But I’m going to have to decline.”
“Yoo Joonghyuk-nim!” Kim Dokja whines. “It’s super useful, I promise.”
Yoo Joonghyuk-nim looks up at him, one eye clear and one eye hazy. “If you can convince me, then I’ll reconsider.”
Kim Dokja brings his chair over next to Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s, eager to point out all the cool features of the new phone. Not only is it a phone that fits neatly into a pants pocket, it also has voice-to-text and text-to-voice, which fits perfectly for Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s needs. It means that he doesn’t have to squint his eyes to read, he just has to press a button and speak into the mic, and it will do whatever he wants it to do. He can also watch videos through the use of the Internet – but Kim Dokja doesn’t know too much about what the Internet is, so he leaves that specific part out. He also explains how Yoo Joonghyuk can program the phone to read books aloud for him.
When Kim Dokja glances up at Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s face to see his expression, he’s taken aback by the genuine look of contemplation on Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s face.
“I think you have convinced me, Kim Dokja. Hm, I’ll keep it. Although–” Yoo Joonghyuk makes eye contact with Kim Dokja, a short smile on his face, making Kim Dokja’s eyes widen. “I would much prefer it if you continued to read for me.”
Kim Dokja nods, still wondering about how that smile looked on the stoic Yoo Joonghyuk-nim. It looked a little weird, because Kim Dokja surely wasn’t used to it – but it also looked quite nice on his face.
Kim Dokja brings out his own phone, exchanging contacts with Yoo Joonghyuk-nim. Other than his mother, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim is the first friend to be put in Kim Dokja’s phone contacts.
“Let’s give each other a nickname,” Kim Dokja says excitedly. “It’ll be the name we see when the other person texts or calls.”
Yoo Joonghyuk-nim hums. “Secretive Plotter.”
“‘Secretive Plotter’?” Kim Dokja frowns, but he goes to type it into his phone anyway, if a bit reluctant. It sounded so mysterious. A little eerie. “Why that?”
“He’s a character from a story I read a long, long time ago,” Yoo Joonghyuk-nim explains. “Do not worry about it.”
Kim Dokja punches the name into Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s contact list on his phone as he tries to come up with his own nickname to give. “Hm... You can just put me as Kim Dokja on your phone. I can’t really think of anything.”
After a moment, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim sits up straight(-er) and begins to type on his own phone, having already memorized the key placements of the letters. Kim Dokja tries not to feel disappointed that he already doesn't need to help Yoo Joonghyuk-nim with that. Bringing him out of his thoughts, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim says, “In that case, if we are going along with the narrative, it would be fine to have you listed as ‘Oldest Dream’. He is another character from the story I mentioned previously.”
“Ah, really?” Kim Dokja lights up again, a smile growing on his face. “That would be cool. We’ll be sort of matching, then!”
They set their ringtones as some sort of space-y, ethereal song, because Kim Dokja noticed that Yoo Joonghyuk-nim liked space a lot. “Now we know when the other person is calling,” Kim Dokja announces. Yoo Joonghyuk nods at him, before reminding Kim Dokja what he’s really here for. Standing back up to attention, Kim Dokja asks, like always, what Yoo Joonghyuk-nim would like to read for the day.
“Yoo Joonghyuk-nim, why do you have so many dolls in your house?” Kim Dokja asks one time, after finishing up for the day. He'd noticed that Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s phone was lying in front of one of the dolls in his study. Kim Dokja thought it was cute – it almost looked as if the tiny doll was using the phone.
“Those?” Yoo Joonghyuk-nim replies blandly. “Take some, if you want.”
Kim Dokja definitely doesn’t expect that, because obviously, if Yoo Joonghyuk-nim had so many dolls, didn’t he have some sort of obsession? Wouldn’t he be a bit possessive over them, at least...? But he offered them up like he was practically waiting for someone to ask.
“Ah– can I?” Kim Dokja still repeats, just to make sure. He tries not to seem too excited. While the dolls creeped him out at the beginning, Kim Dokja grew a little fond of their button gazes. If he squinted hard enough, they even shared Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s countenance. Kim Dokja liked that.
Yoo Joonghyuk-nim simply waves his hand in front of him, lazy yet commanding. Kim Dokja grins, before trotting over to a shelf housing some of the dolls. But now that he’s right in front of it, he realizes just how different some of the dolls are.
One doll looks... extremely angry, for lack of a better term. Kim Dokja immediately looks away from that one. Another doll has little black wings and horns. Another one even has a chef hat. “So cute...” Kim Dokja mumbles to himself.
But there’s one that catches his eye. It’s one with an eyepatch, and a few prosthetic limbs. Kim Dokja impulsively decides his likes this one the best, and gently takes it from the shelf.
“Why that one?” Yoo Joonghyuk-nim asks him. In the setting sun, the handsome planes of his face are accentuated.
Kim Dokja looks back at the doll. “...I just think he looks cool.”
Kim Dokja says his goodbyes, grabbing his pay envelope from Yoo Joonghyuk-nim while the doll is tucked into his elbow. But before he leaves, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim suddenly speaks up, something hard in his voice.
“Kim Dokja. Are you limping?”
The boy stops in his tracks on his way out the door, standing like a deer caught in the headlights. “Uh–” He quickly scrambles for an excuse, but because he wasn’t prepared, he ends up taking far too long to explain. “I just fell on my knee the other day. I–I wasn’t being careful going down the stairs.”
“Hm,” Yoo Joonghyuk grunts. Kim Dokja isn’t sure whether he should take that as a good or bad sign. His feet subconsciously shuffle from side to side, quietly revealing his eagerness to leave.
“...I need you to promise me something,” Yoo Joonghyuk-nim states, completely out-of-the-blue. Kim Dokja gulps, nervousness causing him to subtly squeeze the doll in his grasp. Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s face is much more serious than usual, a deep-set furrow in his brow. He’s looking at Kim Dokja with such intensity – an intensity that he’s unsure how to deal with. Kim Dokja never would have guessed that he had impaired vision of any sort, with the way he is staring at Kim Dokja.
“If someone hurts you, or you make any enemies,” Yoo Joonghyuk-nim starts, never once breaking eye contact with Kim Dokja, “Promise me that you will dispose of them quickly.”
Kim Dokja isn’t exactly sure what that’s supposed to mean, in this context. “Dispose of them...?”
“Promise me.”
“Wait,” Kim Dokja smiles sheepishly, his footing completely lost. “I don’t understand–”
“Promise me.” Yoo Joonghyuk-nim insists sharply, his gaze boring into Kim Dokja's. The sudden shift in tone startles Kim Dokja, making his pulse jump uncomfortably. Although he is reluctant to make promises without thinking, he's left without a choice.
"I–I promise."
Yoo Joonghyuk-nim nods at him, and Kim Dokja walks out of the room with tense limbs.
Kim Dokja walks into Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s study, and finds Yoo Joonghyuk-nim asleep in his chair.
– It’s odd though, isn’t it? It’s the middle of the day, around the time that Kim Dokja usually stops by for his reading sessions.
How silly of Yoo Joonghyuk-nim.
Kim Dokja feels something in his stomach shiver uncomfortably, but he ignores it in favor of moving to Yoo Joonghyuk-nim's side, approaching the sleeping man carefully.
“Yoo Joonghyuk-nim?”
Kim Dokja shakes the man's shoulder with gentle movements, but almost immediately after he does so, Kim Dokja's phone suddenly starts to ring, the sound blaring noisily in the quiet room. It startles Kim Dokja severely, making him jump as his heart skips a few beats.
The ringtone is very distinct – it’s the one him and Yoo Joonghyuk-nim had reserved for each other, to know when the other is calling.
With a tense hand, Kim Dokja takes his phone out of his pants pocket.
When he looks at the caller ID, it says two words:
Secretive Plotter
It's then that he observes the phone clutched in Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s hand, his finger hovering over the phone screen.
Kim Dokja hastily declines the call and tries to shake him awake again, his force slowly growing more intense the longer Yoo Joonghyuk-nim goes on without responding. "Yoo Joonghyuk-nim? Yoo Joonghyuk-nim? It's Kim Dokja. Please – please wake up."
Kim Dokja can barely hear anything over the sound of his heartbeat, which is accompanied by the fading melody of his phone’s ringtone. He nervously pats his hands around Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s neck, unsure of what he’s even doing. Surely, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim will wake up. He wouldn't leave Kim Dokja. Yoo Joonghyuk-nim is his only friend.
He can’t feel a steady beat when he places his hand against Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s neck; in fact, there’s nothing at all. But Kim Dokja is probably just doing the procedure wrong. He’s a little slow in the head, but he knows there’s a heartbeat. There has to be one.
Scrambling around, Kim Dokja finds a small pocket mirror lying on a shelf a few meters away. If Yoo Joonghyuk-nim breathes on it, it should fog up. It will fog up.
Quickly, Kim Dokja places the mirror underneath Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s nose, but his hand trembles so hard that he misses the mark a few times – it was a bit chilly in the room. Winter had yet to pass, after all. Kim Dokja was excited for spring, because the trees and the garden in front of Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s mansion always bloomed so pretty. Around springtime last year, Yoo Joonghyuk-nim had allowed him to bring back home some fresh blooms. Kim Dokja’s father had trashed them not even a day after, ranting about the ugly colors, but luckily Kim Dokja kept a flower in his room, placing it pressed inside one of his favorite books.
Kim Dokja was looking forward to spending this spring with Yoo Joonghyuk-nim again, too.
- But a second passes. And then another. And then another. Kim Dokja waits for the next one as well. Just one more.
The mirror shines and sparkles the whole time, clear and bright.
Kim Dokja almost throws the object across the room. But instead, his grip slackens until it drops to the floor with a despondent clack. He takes a few shaky steps back.
His breaths come in deep and harsh and quick, but it hardly registers. His mind is buzzing with– with – he doesn’t know. He can’t think. He just keeps staring at Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s sleeping face, still sharp and sculpted even when at rest. The scar on his cheek lies stark as always against his skin.
He really looks like he’s sleeping. His skin is still quite warm.
Kim Dokja wishes Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s eyes would open, and give him that gentle gaze that he yearns for, the one that tells Kim Dokja that he is pleased. Telling Kim Dokja that he did a good job, that he had value, that there was a place for him in this world. That it was here, reading precious stories to Yoo Joonghyuk-nim.
“Dokja? Dokja, is something wrong? Dokja?” his mom says through the phone, and Kim Dokja doesn’t even remember when he’d picked it up to call his mother. Maybe he should’ve called 119. That would have made more sense, wouldn’t it?
Kim Dokja can’t think.
“Mom,” Kim Dokja’s voice cracks.
“Yes, what is it? What happened?” She replies, immediately growing concerned after hearing the breathlessness in Kim Dokja’s voice.
“Y–Yoo Joonghyuk-nim. He–” Kim Dokja’s vision gets blurry, hiding Yoo Joonghyuk’s face. Something wet slides down his cheek, but he doesn’t think about it. He can’t think. He can’t.
“I think he’s dead.”
As his mother calls for an ambulance to send to Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s residence, Kim Dokja walks back up to Yoo Joonghyuk and slips the phone out of his grasp. When Kim Dokja clicks the home button, he sees that the lock screen is a photo of himself, in the middle of reading a book aloud – it was a picture that Yoo Joonghyuk-nim secretly took of him when Kim Dokja first gifted him his phone. Kim Dokja remembers being embarrassed, but allowed Yoo Joonghyuk-nim to keep the photo. Kim Dokja got one of him, as revenge; Yoo Joonghyuk-nim had a look of disapproval when Kim Dokja showed him, but conceded, since it was only fair.
Kim Dokja didn’t realize that he meant so much to Yoo Joonghyuk-nim, that he would be the first thing he saw when opening his phone.
Yoo Joonghyuk-nim was Kim Dokja’s only friend.
Was Kim Dokja the same to him?
Before the ambulance arrives, Kim Dokja voices his goodbye in the form of pages, a worn book spread open with written words, reading and reading and reading aloud.
The funeral procession is very quiet.
But Kim Dokja is still surprised that more than five people showed up, other than him and his mom. They were all of Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s old colleagues. A pretty, blonde woman, a tall, handsome and hairy man, a short guy that could pass as Kim Dokja’s age. There was a young girl in a ponytail, with a young, white-haired guy standing right next to her, frowning. Behind them was another tall man, buff and imposing.
Some of them try to make friendly chatter with him, telling him that they’ve heard nice things about him from Yoo Joonghyuk-nim, who occasionally answered when they called him on the phone. Kim Dokja smiles, a little glad, but it lasts as long as a dropped feather, slowly floating to the ground.
Kim Dokja prepares a eulogy, but he barrels through it with a blank voice, barely reading the words on the page that he wrote. Reading out loud feels like a hollow thing now, without Yoo Joonghyuk-nim.
Before the casket closes, Kim Dokja goes up to Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s coffin. Yoo Joonghyuk-nim looks frozen in sleep – like a sleeping beauty. Kim Dokja thinks it would be nice if reality followed how the story went – everything would be solved with a true love’s kiss. But Kim Dokja knows fantasies are just that: fantasies.
When he found Yoo Joonghyuk-nim dead, Kim Dokja had unintentionally pocketed the man’s phone in his distress. Now, after he makes sure no one is looking, he brings the phone out and places it in Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s nice suit pocket, the screen open on that sneak picture he took of Kim Dokja. It lies right on top of his heart, safe and secure.
Yoo Joonghyuk-nim apparently had Kim Dokja written down to inherit some of his money if he died.
One billion won.
Of course, Kim Dokja’s father found out – and he was terribly euphoric at first, his mouth practically slobbering at the thought of using all that money on gambling. That is, before his mother had gone to defend Kim Dokja. She said it was his money, and he was the only one who had the right to use it.
Needless to say, it did not make his father happy.
“FUCKING BITCH!” that man screamed, hitting his bleeding mother with his belt, over and over. She had toppled over after that man pushed her against the kitchen counter, and then choked her, before pushing her again onto the cold ground, where she now lies as she takes hit after hit. “DO YOU KNOW WHO MAKES THE MONEY AROUND HERE? WHO WORKS TO GIVE YOU UNGRATEFUL SHITS A PLACE TO STAY? HUH?” He kicked her straight in the abdomen, grinding the heel of his shoe into her tender skin. He kicked again for good measure. His mother didn’t cry out, but her lip bled from where she bit it too hard.
That man breathed deeply a few times, before turning his hateful eyes towards Kim Dokja, who was watching the spectacle on the other side of the kitchen – which wasn’t very far to begin with. Kim Dokja’s eyes widened, and then trembled, his fight-or-flight instincts activating.
“ And you ,” that man growled at him. Kim Dokja didn’t want to be here anymore. “What makes you think you’re better than me? Hm? You planned this out with that slut over there, is that right? Going to run away and keep all the money to yourselves?” That man pointed at his mom, furious anger painted in every line. Kim Dokja shook his head profusely, as his mother, with a weak, hoarse voice, told him to go to his room. Pleaded with him.
That man prowled closer, belt held tightly in his hand. “Don’t shake your head at me! You know full well what you’re doing! You think you can run away? You think I’ll let you do that? You –! You son of a BITCH –”
“DOKJA–”
“Yoo Joonghyuk-nim.”
Kim Dokja’s voice was a broken thing, barely audible due to how hard his father had beaten it out of him.
He knows no one will answer, no matter how many voicemails he leaves. But Kim Dokja has no other friends, no one else to confide in. It puts it into perspective, just how pathetic Kim Dokja is. That his only confidant is a dead man.
“I miss you,” Kim Dokja utters out in mangled, raw honesty, into the empty void. His hand grips his phone tighter, presses it against his ear until it hurts. Yoo Joonghyuk-nim was the only solace in his bleak life, who showed him so many amazing stories, stories that made Kim Dokja feel alive. He asked many questions, and was the first person who actually wanted to know who Kim Dokja was. Yoo Joonghyuk-nim taught him many things as well, things that will stay with him until his last breath.
“I know you can’t hear me. But I still want to say that I really wish you were my father instead.”
Kim Dokja pauses in his speech, throat scraping even at his minimal words. Habitually, he wants to bite his lip, but knowing the excruciating pain it will cause, he refrains. After another moment, he adds, “...Yeah. The world would be better if you and him switched places.
“He left a while ago, probably to drown himself in more alcohol. Mom is resting on the couch now. I had to help her because of how injured she was. And me... everything hurts. Everything hurts so much.
“I–I got so angry. Mom tried to stop him from hitting me, but he grabbed a knife... It – it dropped at some point when they were arguing, just laying on the floor. I ... I really wanted to pick it up. I wanted to hurt him.
"...But mom stopped me before anything could happen. And she somehow convinced my father to back off, too – something like stab wounds are an immediate red flag, and that he would really get caught if he did anything like that. He calmed down a bit after that, like a coward. I hate him. I hate him.
"You told me to dispose of anyone who hurts me. But I'm not – I'm not strong enough."
Kim Dokja didn’t think he’d have more tears left to shed over Yoo Joonghyuk-nim, but he is proven wrong. He clutches at his bare arms, still run over with fresh bruises. The pain is supposed to ground him, but it only multiplies his desperation tenfold.
“I wish you were still here.”
The next day, his father does not return home.
The day after, he is found dead in a ditch.
The body is about a day old. Stab wounds are littered across his body. But the police said the cuts were abnormally thin, precise, and clean, not like anything from a knife or blade. It was extremely odd, because the wounds were so deep and deadly. It would be difficult for something so thin to do such extreme amounts of damage, but at the same time, it wasn’t impossible.
Although, it wasn't from natural means, either – on his chest there was an intentionally carved symbol. Perfectly lined and shaped.
A star.
Authorities tack it down to a serial killer, or at the very least, someone with a grudge, since Kim Dokja and his mother both had alibis.
Kim Dokja does not mourn. There’s nothing to mourn.
But he wonders. He dreams.
And he smiles for the first time since Yoo Joonghyuk-nim's death.
“This is Yoo Joonghyuk. Call back another time.”
A beep signals the start of a voicemail, but Kim Dokja takes a while to speak, still basking in the minimal comfort of hearing Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s voice, even if it’s automated. Kim Dokja ends up hanging up without saying anything.
He calls once more, letting it ring until the automated message starts up again.
Beep.
Kim Dokja hangs up again. And then calls once more.
When Kim Dokja wakes up the next morning, he has a new voicemail.
It’s from ‘Secretive Plotter’.
Shooting up from bed, heart beating like a drum, Kim Dokja blinks down at the screen in disbelief. His grogginess falls away like a curtain, replaced by pure adrenaline. His thoughts race, though he thinks of nothing at all, his brain a static field. His finger hovers over the button to play the recording, hand shaking.
The playback is completely silent. Not a crackle or a creak.
And yet, Kim Dokja can feel Yoo Joonghyuk-nim’s strong presence, the words left unsaid.
I wish I was still there, as well.
Kim Dokja's life doesn't miraculously get better. In fact, he is completely avoided at school for a very long while due to the unfortunate circumstances of his father. And sure, he has a comfy cushion of money – but money can only do so much.
At least he has his mother. And Yoo Joonghyuk-nim.
"If you were here, I'm sure you would know all about fractions, decimals, and percents."
Kim Dokja laughs this time, now that he knows someone is listening. "I can't get the hang of it. I would probably ask you to tutor me after our reading sessions, if it was back then." Kim Dokja pauses for a bit, deep in thought.
"...And I've been reading still. In case you wanted to know."
At the start, at the beginning of the end, Kim Dokja developed a resentful hatred towards reading stories. What meaning did it have anymore, now that Yoo Joonghyuk-nim was gone? Reading felt lonely. It felt like a wound being opened. It reminded him too much of something he did not have anymore, and it made him feel like something was being ripped out of him.
But after the incident with his father, he's begun to flip through pages again. Sometimes, when he'd feel extra lonely, he'd prop up his little doll next to him and read together with it. Somehow, it brought him an incredible amount of comfort. As of now, it is the norm.
Kim Dokja still misses Yoo Joonghyuk-nim. But he knows it's ironic to miss him, when he's right here by his side.
Kim Dokja gets really sick.
It's not to the point where he needs medical assistance, but he's practically bedridden. He's fed medicine around the clock – with proper procedure and dosage, of course. His mother takes off work to care and cook for him, which Kim Dokja appreciates greatly, especially through his nausea and discomfort. He tries to imagine being all alone, but cuts that thought off quickly.
At some point in the night, however, he awakens in the middle of a fever-induced hallucination.
The room looks hazy and unfocused, and Kim Dokja can hardly get his bearings. The lines blur together, like a dream. When he looks up next to him, he sees a single, glowing, golden eye staring back at him.
It looks very familiar. Kim Dokja's eyes rapidly prickle and sting, and with a mumble, Kim Dokja suddenly sobs out in his delirium, "Hyung."
The golden eye gets closer, and Kim Dokja closes his eyes. After a moment, he feels an embrace, soft and all-encompassing. It isn't warm like a human body, but it is careful and gentle like one's touch. The presence is cool, balancing the way that Kim Dokja burns up from the fever.
Kim Dokja, Yoo Joonghyuk says. His voice floats around the room, filling Kim Dokja's ears, reaching the depths of his soul. It's so much better than when Kim Dokja plays that voice on the phone, that same monotone message over and over again. Hearing it now, it is still so deep and rich, the same as he remembers from before.
Am I 'hyung' now?
Kim Dokja mutters a response, but he's unsure if it's intelligible or not. "'Yoo Joonghyuk-nim'... is too formal," he lazily mumbles, drowsy from the fever. He feels a hand slowly rub his back, and Kim Dokja weakly attempts to bury himself further into the arms surrounding him, body slow to respond due to his sickness.
He hears Yoo Joonghyuk hum, and it vibrates throughout his body like a tuning fork. Kim Dokja continues with his mumbled speech, "I missed you."
I never left.
"It felt like you did."
I'll make sure you never feel that way again.
"...Joonghyuk-hyung," Kim Dokja giggles. He feels like he's floating. "You should read me a story this time."
...As you wish, my little star.
Yoo Joonghyuk speaks of the end of times, of constellations and nebulas, of angels and demons. Kim Dokja falls asleep sometime through, comforted by the secure presence of his first and only friend.
Kim Dokja picks up his phone again, sitting on the hospital bathroom floor.
Beep.
"Joonghyuk-hyung." Kim Dokja's voice is a little deeper now, as some time has passed. He's grown a little, too. Yet, some things haven’t changed.
For example, the bruises beaten into his skin.
His mother had looked at him with such a stricken gaze when she returned home. Kim Dokja had been trying to cover them up so as to not worry her – the stars know that they've experienced enough problems to last a lifetime – and Kim Dokja hadn’t told her before because he thought it was only a one time thing. But it seems that Kim Dokja was still too naive; a dreamer. He probably had a broken bone or two, now. And they weren’t that easy to hide or deal with alone.
At least they had the money to cover the medical expenses.
She patched him up as best she could, before forcing him into the car and driving him to the hospital. The whole way, she goes on a righteously angry rant about having a word with these kids and their parents, taking it to the school’s administration, and the like.
Kim Dokja has a better idea, though. Probably more effective, too.
He closes his eyes, the cool screen of his phone pressed against his cheek. It soothes the ache in his limbs. “There’s a kid in my class... his name is Song Minwoo. He’s a loud... dumb... idiot. One who doesn’t know what’s good for him.”
Kim Dokja opens his eyes again, something swirling in his eyes. “Can you help me... dispose of him?”
Everyone says that Kim Dokja is cursed. They know not to mess with him – because anyone who does coincidentally dies a tragic death.
And the police say they are still doing their best to find the "star carving" serial killer, who has been out on the loose for years. Kim Dokja knows better, of course.
His days are quiet, but at least no one bothers him anymore. All he needs are his books, spending day and night reading stories. Even now, it still feels like Kim Dokja is reading to Joonghyuk-hyung. Every day is a blessing, in that sense.
His mother is concerned for a bit, aware that Kim Dokja never talks about any of his friends or about making plans with them. She felt hard-pressed enough to ban his phone usage for a very long month, until she realized it only made Kim Dokja more detached and distant – and that even though Kim Dokja didn’t have any friends he spoke of before, he never actually seemed lonely. She gives him back his phone, and thoroughly checks up on his internet history from time to time, but ultimately finds nothing of critical interest.
The years pass like that, the rumors surrounding him effectively barring anyone from interacting with him. There was one teacher, though – in Kim Dokja’s high school years. She didn’t care about the rumors, and didn’t care that Kim Dokja wasn’t very social. She was kind to him, and treated him with respect, like he was actually a human being. She passed away the year after, but Kim Dokja knew that it was just the cycle of life, doing its thing. Kim Dokja shoved his head in a book and tried to forget about it, moving away to a reality that wasn't this one.
Graduation, military, more school, career. Kim Dokja had enough money to live comfortably for a long while, but a large portion of that had been used to pay off his father’s atrocious debt. Another portion had been used to invest, as Yoo Joonghyuk had suggested to him back then. And Kim Dokja wanted his mother to be able to retire as early as possible. Which meant he had to work.
He ends up getting a job at a nondescript gaming company. Somehow, some way, the rumors follow him there as well; he thinks that someone from his school couldn’t keep their mouth shut. It’s not that Kim Dokja minds, though – he is very used to the treatment. All things considered, being ignored is probably the best outcome.
On one of his train rides going home, a random coworker sits down next to him. However, he doesn’t even notice them, so sucked up in his smartphone, until they speak up to greet him.
Kim Dokja startles a little, looking up at the voice. It’s Yoo Sangah. The golden girl.
“Ah, hello,” Kim Dokja says a bit blandly, to Yoo Sangah’s smiling face.
“Dokja-ssi, are you going home from work?” Yoo Sangah asks politely. Kim Dokja is a bit taken aback, wondering how she even knows his name. They only met once before, and they did pass by each other from time to time, but Kim Dokja didn’t think she would have remembered. He isn’t sure how to feel about that.
“Yes,” Kim Dokja answers, equally polite. “What about Yoo Sangah-ssi?”
She nods. “Luckily, I was able to leave a bit earlier today.”
“Do you usually take the subway?”
“Ah...” Yoo Sangah’s face drops at that. She’s still smiling, but the enthusiasm is gone from her eyes. “Someone stole my bike.”
Kim Dokja feels his eyebrows raise in surprise. “You commute by bike?” He’s heard rumors that all kinds of men in the company held the privilege of taking Yoo Sangah home every day – and while Kim Dokja knows rumors are just rumors, things start to click.
It’s confirmed by Yoo Sangah’s next words, who laughs a little cuttingly before speaking. “I haven’t been getting my exercise in because of overtime... and also because there’s just been an annoying issue...” Her face visibly darkens. “...Things like that.”
Ah. Kim Dokja thinks he understands the problem now.
They talk a bit more as the sun continues to set; about books, work, the latest films, even if neither of them are really into movies. Throughout, Kim Dokja feels a genuine smile pull at his lips, though he does sense his social battery rapidly draining and yearns to flee to go back to the comfort of his phone. When the train arrives at his stop, he tries not to seem too enthusiastic about leaving, making sure to nod at Yoo Sangah before heading off.
But before he can make it out the doors, someone shoves harshly into him. He stumbles back a bit, and looks up to see who’s barreling through the crowd as if their life depends on it.
Well, it must be Kim Dokja’s lucky day; he just keeps coming across people from Mino Soft.
It’s Han Myungoh, the finance department head of the company that Kim Dokja works at. He is also a piece of shit.
Kim Dokja is carried by the crowd by the time he realizes that Han Myungoh was headed off into Yoo Sangah’s direction, but Kim Dokja is already out the doors. However, when he looks to his side, his eyes catch onto a figure with familiar brown hair.
Yoo Sangah looks back at him, and smiles winningly. “...He must be wondering where I am right about now, isn’t he?”
Kim Dokja can’t help but laugh.
When he gets home, he finds his mother asleep on the couch, a random show playing on the TV. He lays a blanket over her, before shutting the door to his room and dialing a familiar number.
After all, if Yoo Sangah’s bike was stolen by a certain someone, then that “annoying issue” must have been going on for some time now. And they must have been serious about their pursuit as well, refusing to stop until they get what they want.
Well. Kim Dokja never liked Han Myungoh anyway.
“This is Yoo Joonghyuk. Call back another time.”
A beep. “Hyung?” Kim Dokja speaks into the phone, voice warm and light. It always feels like coming home, talking to Yoo Joonghyuk. “Quick question, can you do me a little favor? You see, there’s this nice lady in our company, and I’ve noticed she’s been getting harassed lately...”
To Kim Dokja’s disbelief, he catches Yoo Sangah pouring concerning amounts of pepper in the break room coffee machine a few weeks later, after the shocking news of Han Myungoh’s sudden death has died down a little. She looks a little dumbfounded, since it’s obvious she’s never been caught before, but it smooths out into a crooked smile. “Dokja-ssi!”
Kim Dokja greets her back. “...Sangah-ssi. What are you doing?” he asks out of principle.
She looks back at her hand, which is holding a pepper shaker. “Oh, y’know. Just grabbing a warm cup of fresh coffee for a few of the higher-ups.”
Kim Dokja nods at her, preparing to leave the break room and pretend he saw nothing. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
But Yoo Sangah stops him with an exclamation. “Wait!” When she sees that she’s caught Kim Dokja’s attention, she continues a bit more softly, “Ah... I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Thank you?” Kim Dokja thought she would have wanted to make sure he didn’t tell anyone about her... break room activities. Not anything about gratefulness.
However, when Kim Dokja questions her, Yoo Sangah looks a bit nervous for some reason – nervous enough that even Kim Dokja sees it. “I mean... I’ve heard some interesting things about Dokja-ssi here and there.”
Oh. So, that’s why. “And why is Sangah-ssi thanking me?”
Yoo Sangah looks away, tucking her hair behind her ear. Other than her initial nervousness, there are no additional signs of negative behavior. Her smile is still genuine, from what Kim Dokja can tell. “I don’t really know, actually. It just felt like I should.”
“Then,” Kim Dokja feels his lips curl up. Yoo Sangah catches it, her eyes brightening up at the sight. “You’re welcome, Sangah-ssi.”