Chapter Text
Half stumbling, half sprinting, a man runs for his life. Tossing a smoke grenade behind himself, he nearly runs straight into a wall. After regaining his footing, he continues his escape. He's not three steps away from turning a corner from when...
Bang!
A rifle round slices through the smoke, punching a hole of clear air in the cloud. The man looks back: the barrel of a gaudy, gold-plated assault rifle, flashes through the opening in the smoke, crosshairs clearly settled on his cranium.
Now, Yoo Joonghyuk isn't the kind of guy who can just stand back and watch a man get shot...
But luckily, this is just a video game.
Lee Jihye clicks her mouse, and Kim Namwoon's character ragdolls onto the floor.
< a/n: recommended ghost trick sound track: REINCARNATION >
"There, that's 15-7," Jihye says cheerfully.
Two teenagers, still in uniform, sit across from one another in a dimly lit PC bang, LED lights tinging the room in a moody blue. Jihye, who had been keeping her unblinking face inches away from the screen for the duration of the one versus one match, finally sits back in her chair to rub her eyes. Namwoon, who was already sitting far back in his chair, seems to recess even further back into it.
Watching from behind them sits one (very much alive) Yoo Joonghyuk, who dons a black compression shirt and sweat pants. His signature black trench coat hangs on the back of his chair rather than the man's torso, the biting February chill having been squarely defeated by 10 powered-on gaming PCs in a cramped room.
"Not a bad shot, Jihye," Joonghyuk hums. "Your movement's improved a lot too."
"I've been practicing the drills you showed me," the girl says cheerfully, almost instinctually bowing her head. “Namwoon hasn't beaten me for weeks!”
"God, you're still so dumb, just sitting out in the open! The only difference is that now you shoot me in the head!" whines Kim Namwoon, who throws his headset onto the keyboard in front of him. "Why not use some strategy for once?"
"If your idea of 'strategy' is sitting in corners with a shotgun, then I think I'll probably improve faster if I do things my way." Lee Jihye rolls her eyes.
"Jihye, he's right," says Joonghyuk. "You'll need to take every little advantage you can get over stronger opponents-- don't look for fair duels, look for unfair ones. Never work harder when you could work smarter. And Namwoon..."
The white-haired teen looks up at his senior expectantly.
"...Well, you could work a little harder."
The boy rolls his head back towards the sky in defeat.
"I could say the same to you," he mutters.
"What did you say to Master?!" shouts Jihye. "Show some respect!"
The two teenagers continue to bicker. Yoo Joonghyuk sits deeper into his chair, resting his cheek against his fist atop the armrest.
When the two kids first stumbled into this PC Bang, they were starstruck by Joonghyuk, the esports pro who'd shot onto the scene at just 16 years old. Without a penny to his name, he chased his dreams while supporting his family. That's not to say he didn't have any advantages going for him. He was fostered by a former pro, after all.
Jihye was too shy to say a word, and Namwoon was doing his best impression of a new military recruit. Joonghyuk was happy to see his two proteges opening up more.
The sound of stomping feet coming closer and closer snaps Joonghyuk out of his reminiscing. He moves his arm to get up, but it's too late. His gaming chair is whirled around from underneath him, and he finds himself staring up at one Namgung Minyoung, former Spacecraft II pro, owner of the PC Bang they're in, and Joonghyuk's legal guardian.
"Joonghyuk!" she says. "Why are you here? You already failed the tryout?"
Joonghyuk was a large man himself, but Namgung Minyoung had a few inches on him even when they stood back to back. So looking up at the woman while he was sitting down made Joonghyuk feel like he was a child again.
"Do I need to report everything to you? I'm just back for the day. We have a break until Monday."
"Well maybe you should be practicing then! Do you want another team to drop you?"
"Guh..."
Despite Joonghyuk's meteoric rise through professional esports, he'd garnered something of a "bad boy" reputation among the major teams. He had a bit of a temper and a huge chip on his shoulder, which led to no small number of dramatic altercations and viral clips. But somehow, Joonghyuk would manage to hop from game to game, immediately picking up and dominating new titles before quickly moving onto the next.
His ability to adapt was astounding, and on day one he'd be playing completely new games like [he'd been playing them for 10 years].
But lately, the genius had hit a bit of a dry patch.
"I saw your last few matches-- you've been coasting on talent too long." Namgung Minyoung grips the back of Joonghyuk's chair hard, the foam stretching like a water balloon in her fist. "You need to drill your basics again, Joonghyuk. From the beginning."
"Hey, they weren't that bad--"
"Three kills across three games, Joonghyuk. You're supposed to be their ace!"
"I... see your point." Joonghyuk tries to shrink back in his chair. "But really, I was just planning to drop by today. I came home because I had other plans-- you're going too, right?"
"Oh, it's... Hah." The woman eyes the man warily, keeping one hand on the chair as she checks her phone. "You're right, it's today. I completely forgot."
She lets go of the chair and Joonghyuk scrambles to his feet, putting on his coat.
"Heh, not so tough when mom's around, huh?" snickers Kim Namwoon, to which Lee Jihye smacks him in the back of the head.
"Do you need a ride then?" Namgung Minyoung pats down Joonghyuk's sleeves, clearing off residual dust. "Ai, our part-timers need to do a better job of wiping down the chairs."
She eyes the two teenagers, who instinctually straighten their backs and get back to work.
The entrance bell chimes as someone familiar walks in.
"I've got him," says one (very much not in law enforcement) Han Sooyoung, twirling a pair of expensive looking car keys. She's wearing the same old white trench coat, though layered with a plain purple hoodie rather than a police uniform.
"Ah, Sooyoung-ah! Thank you for always taking care of this stupid boy." Namgung Minyoung gives Joonghyuk what she thinks is a light shove, which sends the man sprawling forward. "Go on then, Joonghyuk. I'll see you both tonight."
Joonghyuk and Sooyoung walk outside and over to a striking red sports car.
"...How did you afford this?" asks Joonghyuk.
"I got a hefty advance for my latest novel." Sooyoung smiles. "So I got it lease to own."
"That... doesn't sound very financially sound."
"Hey, it's either this or sitting on the money," the woman shrugs as she steps into the driver's seat. "I don't want to laze around, I want to fight until I die. The struggle keeps me honest."
Perhaps that sounds a little melodramatic for someone who spends 99% of their time in front of a screen, but Sooyoung truly wrote like she was fighting for her life. She'd been one of the most prolific webnovel authors of all time, churning out multiple hundreds of thousands of words of fiction per year. She'd recently broken into traditional publishing as well.
Joonghyuk was hoping for a bit of idle chatter as Sooyoung tested out her new car. But instead, Sooyoung lands the two at their apartment in 20 minutes flat for what Google Maps deems a 40 minute drive.
Joonghyuk shakily opens the sleek door of the car, almost stumbling onto the hard ground of their parking garage. "You think... you could've driven a little slower?"
"It's your fault for being late," Sooyoung slams the driver's side door and opens up the trunk..
"Come on, they always keep him late at the office." Joonghyuk walks after her. "We've got time."
"They better not keep him late today," growls Sooyoung. "Or I'll drag him back here myself. Here, take this."
She heaves a 3 pound bag of all-purpose flour from the trunk and throws it at Joonghyuk, which is soon followed by a couple bags of sugar and a carton of milk. Sooyoung herself carries only a carton of eggs as she walks towards the elevator up to their apartment..
"Struggle keeps you honest, huh?" Joonghyuk mutters as he follows the woman.
Kim Dokja (also very much not in law enforcement) sighs as he scrolls idly through his phone. His evening commute is always the worst-- Usually, he'll have already read through all the webnovels chapters for series that released in the mornings, yet it'd a bit too early for those with nightly releases to have published new chapters.
This in conjunction with learning that he was not, in fact, going to be getting a full time extension to his contract position as a QA engineer (on today, of all days) was putting quite the damper on his mood.
Giving up on digital media, Dokja produces a hardcover volume from his messenger bag. The cover sleeve is a deep crimson. The main subject is a man in a black trench coat with his face planted firmly into the ground and rear end sticking into the air. The title reads: "Three Ways the Dead Can Save The Living."
Dokja smiles as he leafs through the well-worn pages. He glances at the inside of the front cover, where a signature and loving personal note has been scrawled in sharpie. His gaze lingers on the words for a moment before he flips to a random spot in the middle of the book and reads until his stop is called.
He strolls from the train station to a tall, sleek apartment building. He'd never thought he'd be able to afford living in an area like this, but he was fortunate enough to have a few well-off roommates. Fumbling around in his bag, he realizes that he's forgotten his key.
With a yawn, he punches the button for his room in the call box of the apartment.
"Hey, it's me, could you let me in?" he calls out into the receiver.
After a few seconds of pause, there's an audible click as the door to the apartment building unlocks. Dokja makes his way to the elevator and over to his room.
As he walks up to the door, he can hear hushed whispers and hissing, as well as the clattering of of one the few pots that they own. He prepares for the worst-- maybe a feral animal had broken in, or there was a robber in the apartment-- and takes a deep breath before rapping his knuckles on the door.
Suddenly, the whispers disappear.
There's a tense few moments of silence as Dokja waits to be let into the place where he lives and pays rent (at least a small portion of it).
"...It's unlocked," a gruff but familiar voice calls from the inside. Hearing that, at least, puts Dokja a bit at ease.
Dokja twists the door knob and walks inside. He's greeted by utter darkness, when...
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM DOKJA!!!" A chorus of cheerful voices shout as the lights flick to life, revealing friends, loved ones, and a truly massive single layer cake spread out on a folding table in the center of their living room.
Dokja, for his part, was doing his best to not look like a spider on the wall, having been scared silly by the sudden noise. Chuckling, he walks inside and closes the door behind him.
After the initial cheers and a bit of mingling, everyone lines up to grab a slice of cake.
You might expect our birthday boy Kim Dokja here to get the first slice. But, as the sack of skin and bones he is, he would only ever cut himself a little sliver of the gigantic cake his partners had so lovingly baked for him. It's all he would ever willingly accept.
To get around this, Sooyoung and Joonghyuk had a plan: put Dokja on cake distribution duty, and make him eat whatever was leftover.
Obviously, the children get to go first. Yoo Mia steps up to the table, holding out a paper plate expectantly. She's not shy at all about taking the first slice of cake, having lived in the same apartment as our trio for the past five or so years as well.
Dokja makes the first incision on the cake, then traces a hefty arc around the circle with the base of his knife. "Is here good for you, Mia?"
"...Maybe like, one fourth of that, Ahjussi."
"...Right, of course."
Behind Mia stands a somewhat familiar brown-haired girl of the same age.
Kim Dokja had only ever met her in passing, when Yoo Mia brings the girl over for a playdate— though they’re just about getting to the age where they find that term childish— yet inexplicably, the young girl, Shin Yoosung, seems to adore the man. He tries his best to maintain that high image she has of him, but he’s never quite sure how good of a job he’s doing.
He tries to offer the girl a similarly large slice, but like her friend, Yoosung negotiates down to something reasonable.
"You need to eat more, Ahjussi." She gives him an innocent smile as she leaves him to his gigantic sugar disc.
Up next, the... elderly? Dokja isn't sure if he's quite ready to start using that term for Lee Sookyoung. There had always been a certain tension between mother and son, but a lot was smoothed out with time. Especially after moving out of the house and finding some time to process alone, their relationship and settled comfortably.
"Mother, I heard you've been having a little trouble with your health recently... you need to eat more!" Dokja tries to cut his mother a big slice.
"Dokja-yah, you know my stomach isn't good for these kinds of treats. Joonghyuk made sure to make some easy-to-digest side dishes for me, so you don't have to worry." She gives a light chuckle. "And don't think you can get out of eating more yourself."
Dokja grits his teeth as he gives his mother a polite smile. "...Of course."
The second "elderly" was Shin Yoosung's father, Bihyung. If Kim Dokja barely ever saw Yoosung, he barely recognized the older man's face. The most interaction they'd had was a wave behind a car window as Kim Dokja saw the girl off.
"Thank you for always taking care of Yoosung." The man steps forward to accept some cake. "That girl speaks dotingly of you whenever she comes home, you know."
"Ah, is that so?" Kim Dokja scratches his head, unsure how to act around the man. "I'm flattered."
Dokja decides not to try and skirt his responsibilities and goes to cut the man a reasonable slice.
"You know, you can give me a little more." Bihyung pats his stomach. "I'm good for it, and it looks like you might need the help."
"Oh, I couldn't possibly..." The daunting figure of the cake looms in Dokja's periphery. "You know what, I'll take you up on that."
"Thank you, Dokja." The man's arms falter a little bit as a hefty slice of cake lands on his plate. "For everything."
Dokja is hopeful that Namgung Minyoung will take a similarly large slice, but the woman forgoes the cake entirely with some excuse about having digestion problems lately.
The birthday boy sighs as he looks down at the remaining three quarters of cake.
Up next are Lee Hyunsung and Jung Heewon, a couple of police academy dropouts that were now helping out at a local bar. Apparently, they'd been ready to join the police force within the year, but a chance encounter with Lee Sookyoung's memoir had made the pair reconsider.
One night while he was out with Sooyoung and Joonghyuk, Dokja had noticed the volume sitting behind the counter. Uncharacteristically of the introverted man, he'd struck up a conversation, and somehow, they'd really hit it off.
"Hyunsung-ssi, Heewon-ssi! I'm glad you could make it," says Dokja. "You two always work so hard, make sure to take a big slice."
"Oh, we couldn't possibly..." says Hyunsung.
"I insist," says Dokja.
"Well if you say so-- oof!"
Heewon, whom Sooyoung had locked eyes with to non-verbally communicate the plan-to-make-Dokja-eat-more, elbows the larger man. "Really, we'll be fine with just a normal portion."
Dokja grumbles under his breath as he cuts them their cake.
"Ah, that's right! Dokja-ssi, Heewon was just telling me that Uriel was a huge fan of Joonghyuk-ssi and was wondering-- oof!"
Heewon gives the larger man another elbow and quickly pulls him to a couch to eat. "Thanks Dokja-ssi. Happy birthday, again!"
Up next is Yoo Sangah, one of Dokja's coworkers. Apparently, she'd also considered joining the police force at a time, but was similarly dissuaded by Lee Sookyoung's memoir.
"Sangah-ssi?" Dokja says, a bit surprised. "How did you get off work so quickly?"
"Oh, I pulled some strings so I could help out with some of the preparations today," she replies. "You know, you could've made your escape with me too."
"Wait, so... that fire alarm today...?"
"Hm... I don't know what you're talking about," she says with a wink. "Ah, I'd like about a five-degree slice of cake, if that's alright?"
"Ah... o-of course." Dokja does as the woman asks.
Finally, of course, are Yoo Joonghyuk and Han Sooyoung, his partners and roommates who organized this little party. But there was still an entire half of cake remaining.
"Ah, Joonghyuk-ah, Sooyoung-ah, you simply must try this cake," Dokja says in his best impression of a doting K-drama lover. "Here, allow me to cut you each a nice, big slice--"
"Dokja, we literally made that cake. We know it's kinda mid," replies Sooyoung.
"I thought we did alright..." mutters Joonghyuk. He'd been working on his cooking ever since they'd moved in together. His dishes were shaping up, but he still had some ways to go.
As Kim Dokja goes to cut a couple normal slices, Sooyoung puts a hand on his shoulder.
“You know…” she says. “It’s been just over 10 years since [that night], and we haven’t talked about since. I just… do you want to talk about it all?”
Where was this from? Dokja thought.
“Oh, uh… like, my dad dying?” says Dokja. “It’s… yeah, it certainly was a shock, and the lost of human life is never something to celebrate… But Sooyoung, you of all people should know that life kind of only went up from there.”
After the untimely death of Dokja's father, Lee Sookyoung was able to reflect on her life with a much more carefully written and focused work on her time as a detective, laying bare how his rising the ranks had led her husband down such a path-- or perhaps, simply allowed him to reveal his true colors.
It was still a scathing and pointed piece at the system of law enforcement, yet it was written in a much more tactful and restrained way, as Sookyoung was no longer trying to garner as much blame as she could to take attention away from her son as a murder suspect. After all, it was plain to see that her husband, suddenly overcome by some emotion-- whether it be guilt, shame, or something else entirely-- had taken his own life that fateful night ten years ago.
The result was a small but significant lapse in the footing that the police institution had in their little corner of the world. Perhaps it wasn't quite "fighting the system" in the dramatic way we had wanted to, but it was still a step forward.
After that, she'd tied up a few loose ends, helped out on some last few cases, including the case of an [abused boy falsely accused of kidnapping his sister], and resigned to a quiet life with her son.
"So yeah, I'm fine," says Dokja. "But... thank you for asking. I really appreciate you guys for always looking out for me. Seriously, the past few years have been... well, they've been like a dream."
Sooyoung gave him a hard look. “…Really? There’s nothing else you want to say?”
“Um... I love you? I love both of you so much?” Dokja says, unsure if he's being tested. "Listen, there's like kids and older adults here and it was already enough of a headache trying to explain us to Mia--"
"Relax, idiot. Save that for tonight." The shorter woman smacks Dokja in the back of the head. "I was just... checking up."
"Yeah, of course. And... thanks again, for putting on the party, for everything." The birthday boy goes back to cutting the cake.
"Oh yeah, and we don't want any cake. You eat the rest of it." Sooyoung begins to walk away, dragging Joonghyuk by the arm. "If you haven't licked the plate clean by the time we check on you again, we'll be considering it a rejection of our love and you'll be sleeping on your own tonight."
Dokja gulps.
"Wait, Dokja," Joonghyuk stands firm, accidentally yanking Sooyoung's arm backwards. "May I cut a slice?"
"I thought you didn't like sweets, Joonghyuk."
"...It's not for me."
Han Sooyoung gives Yoo Joonghyuk an indiscernible look.
"Uh... sure," Dokja hands the knife over to the taller man.
Joonghyuk eyes the remaining cake, which is all but a perfect semicircle. With expert, honed precision, he cuts a thin sliver of cake-- it's barely [1%] of the entire circle.
"There," Joonghyuk delicately pushes the almost translucent slice of cake onto a plate and takes it gingerly in his hand.
"I swear, you guys are just making fun of me..." Dokja mutters.
As Joonghyuk and Sooyoung walk off to mingle or munch on other snacks that have been laid out on the table, Dokja finally begins to sit down and eat the cake.
He spoons off a little section for himself and takes a bite. Sooyoung was right-- to be honest, it really wasn't anything special. Though it may wound Joonghyuk's pride, the simple recipe they had followed was about as good as a pre-made cake mix, and the lack of any special adornments didn't quite make it stand out against something store bought either.
Dokja knew it was his fault-- he was the pickiest eater out of the three, after all, and he was sure that Joonghyuk and Sooyoung just wanted to make something he would eat without forcing himself.
But Dokja couldn't help but feel like there was [something missing] from the cake. Maybe if he had been a bit better about expressing his preferences, leaving a tactful comment about cinnamon or something here or there, his partners might have felt more comfortable to spice things up. But that would require him to shake the delicate balance of this dreamlike reality, to assert himself.
So Dokja ate each bite gladly, knowing that each bit of this gigantic cake was for him. This, to him, was [perfect].
Han Sooyoung slips away from the party into her room. Their apartment had four bedrooms, for four tenants: Mia, Joonghyuk, Dokja, and Sooyoung-- though the latter three often found themselves in a single one.
Sooyoung walks over to her desk, and pulls out a series of notes, a rough outline for a new novel. Always the workaholic, she leafs through the pages, imagining how she'll actually draft the novel itself.
Joonghyuk quietly opens the door and walks into the room, holding the small plate of cake.
"Ah, I really just feel like the ending is a bit unsatisfying," she says aloud. "What do you think, Dokja?"
She's mistaken Joonghyuk for Dokja-- pretty hard to do, given the difference in their stature. Kim Dokja is still in the other room, making his way through a mountain of sugar and cream.
"...I saved this slice for you, Dokja," says Joonghyuk.
His are actions completely unintelligible. Dokja is in the other room, enjoying all the cake he could ever want in the world.
"...Did you think we wouldn't notice?" Sooyoung says to no one in particular.
They've both gone a little mad from the number of people in the apartment. Perhaps a bit of sugar would help-- they should eat a bit of cake.
"Enough of this. We know, Dokja," says Sooyoung, exasperated.
She receives no reply.
"Don't pretend you don't hear us," says Joonghyuk. "You've been watching this whole time, right?"
Finally, I answer. (...How did you know?)
"You said you'd come find me."
You know, I thought I'd be better at this. I thought it would suit me just fine to curl up and watch the strange beautiful patterns of their lives unfold. It was painful at times, sure. And at times I considered just wandering the world aimlessly like Joonghyuk had.
But I was greedy. I'd found myself engrossed in that story I'd seen to the end, and I didn't want to let it go. I couldn't look away-- this was the small affordance I'd allowed myself. Because who was I to be unhappy? Clearly, this was the [perfect ending] I was looking for. Everyone is happy, and everyone is alive, right?
"No, Dokja. Not everyone is here," says Sooyoung. "Because when [Kim Dokja the phantom] rewound time on Yoo Joonghyuk, he inadvertently [saved his own life] by causing the death of his would-be killer. Thus, Kim Dokja lived his life, and Kim Dokja the phantom remained behind."
(...Someone had to remain behind. If you cannot save your own life with ghost tricks, then this is the logical conclusion.)
Joonghyuk grits his teeth. "Why did it have to be you? Why didn't you at least talk to us first?"
(Would you have listened? Would you have thrown away the other half of yourself instead?)
"No."
(Then, how--)
"We'd find a way," says Joonghyuk. "We always did."
"And we will find away," adds Sooyoung.
(...Enough of this. I'm not going to rewind back 10 years. I'm... fully satisfied with how fate has changed.)
"...Aren't you forgetting one more phantom?" says Joonghyuk. "One we met at the [very beginning] tonight."
Sooyoung, still sitting at her desk, reaches across her papers to turn on an inconspicuous [red desk lamp].
(Hi, Ahjussi,) the voice of a young girl comes from the lamp. It's [Biyoo].
Memories suddenly flood our brains, images and experience flood from the spirit of Biyoo-- or rather, judging from these memories... [Shin Yoosung.]
What comes to us is another version of that fateful night's events. One where Yoo Joonghyuk [did not save Kim Dokja at the junkyard]. The manipulator had personally gone to kidnap the minister's daughter, "accidentally" killing her so that they could use the convenient replacement hostage right next to her: Yoo Mia.
But what he didn't realize, was that she had died within range of the [meteorite fragment].
(I've been trying to save you for a long, long time, Ahjussi. But... I couldn't. I had to rely on Joonghyuk to do it for me.) Yoosung says. (But now... I can help you, one last time.)
(No, Yoosung you--) I look around at the resolute faces of those around me.
< a/n: recommended ghost trick sound track: Epilogue ~The End of the ''Night'' >
(Hah.) I sigh. (Really, you guys don't know where to stop, do you?)
"Neither do you," Joonghyuk and Sooyoung say in unison.
(...Fair.) I laugh. (Fine. We'll try it.)
To be honest, I'm... not very hopeful. The rules of ghost tricks are clear-- unless we somehow find a way to confront the god pulling the strings or find some other bizarre loophole, I don't see a single way we can find our way to a happy ending where all of us, truly all of us, get to live. But I trust these people who are willing to risk everything to make it happen.
To change your fate is to struggle, yet to struggle alone is no virtue. Take the hands of others into your own, and both in life and in death: struggle, fight, and try again, no matter how many times it takes.
"Ok then," says Joonghyuk. "How's about one last go around, then?"
"Why are you talking like you're the one rewinding?" Sooyoung laughs.
"Sorry, habit."
(Everyone ready?) says Biyoo, the crimson fog of the world of the dead already seeping through the apartment walls.
Somehow, I think we'll be alright.
One more time, the sounding of gears rings in our ears.