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Rather than a powerful, magical concept, Yoo Joonghyuk viewed wishes as something virtually futile.
There was no all-knowing deity who would listen to the desire you whisper to the stars. You pray yet it reaches no one. You speak your wish softly to the heavens while hoping it will be acknowledged, but that hope fractures into mere echoes. Yet, you still continue to hope as if it wouldn’t pulverize your entire being again and again.
It’s foolish. Even Yoo Joonghyuk, who traversed different worldlines and dwelled in a recurring spiral of lifetimes, must admit that he was a fool for always wishing to reach a beautiful ending despite knowing that it may never be fulfilled—for hoping, despite being so painfully cognizant that it may be pointless, for an ending to make itself known.
Yoo Joonghyuk has died plenty of times to become used to the notion of death. He has regressed time and time again to the point that he always falls back to the thought of regression as if it were an ingrained instinct.
Occasionally, he wonders just when death and regression became out of the question even when those were the ends that he was familiar with—and he looks at yet another foolish man beside him, clad in a white the color of burial clothes, always managing to be so unimaginably selfish… yet selfless at the same time, and oh, he realizes, rather shocked by this understanding that dawns on him, it’s because of you.
Looking at Kim Dokja, Yoo Joonghyuk begins to consider yet another possibility. Despite everything, despite how many times he died, was reborn, and the line between life and death continued to blur, these innumerous cycles made Yoo Joonghyuk’s path intersect with Kim Dokja’s, so perhaps these endless repetitions were born from a wish as well.
It was ironic, now that he thought about it.
He could almost laugh at the thought, except his heart ached just thinking about it. How truly paradoxical—he stands by Kim Dokja’s side, and his heart beats with a deep-seated urge to live; he looks at Kim Dokja, and he knows that he wants to live, yet Yoo Joonghyuk also sees Kim Dokja and the absurd amount of love he has for everyone and the inexplicably immense love they held for him in turn, and for the same reason, Yoo Joonghyuk understands that this is the only choice he can make.
It wasn’t exactly a pleasant admission—but he couldn’t deny how Kim Dokja shamelessly wormed his way into his heart and just… stayed. He could only admit that despite how unwelcome the way Kim Dokja forced himself into Yoo Joonghyuk's life was, he ended up wanting him to stay for longer in the end, perhaps until the end.
Kim Dokja was here. They were here—and that makes it so indescribably easier to breathe. It makes it seem so simple to live. It makes this searing desire to stay unbearable. But, just as he had always failed to reach the end in each of his regressions, he presumes that this was yet another world that must end prematurely, no matter how unwilling he may be to part with this turn.
Yoo Joonghyuk was used to this. Innumerable paths could have led to this, and there were regressions where this was the end. Yoo Joonghyuk has always shouldered the weight of this inexhaustible desire to protect, but ultimately, in this world, his existence was of no consequence.
His companions could continue moving towards the end of the scenarios even without him. In the end, this was the best choice.
Better him, who was unable to bring about this much change, than he, who was able to bring so many people that Yoo Joonghyuk cared for to this point.
Perhaps Yoo Joonghyuk was never really what the world needed—it was just that he was the one who was forced to shoulder this fate by some unknown entity, some unknown puppeteer.
Perhaps this has been his role all along—to push Kim Dokja towards an ending that he cannot reach, that he may never be able to set foot on.
That was rather cruel. Just when he thought that he would finally, finally be able to reach a conclusion, the universe so ruthlessly robs yet another hope from him.
Even Kim Dokja cannot survive expulsion from the scenario. If he becomes the demon king, he will die here. As such, the one who should become the demon king, the one who ought to face death this time, should be Yoo Joonghyuk and not Kim Dokja.
Kim Dokja asks him, "What about you, then?" There was a small tremble in his voice as he spoke, clearly shaken. Rather than angry, he sounded... distraught?
Yoo Joonghyuk did not understand how the ultimatum he reached affected Kim Dokja this deeply.
His gaze travels across their companions—the ones he continued to protect, the people that he so desperately wanted to live with even across different lifetimes—and he knows that had it been Yoo Joonghyuk alone, this sight would have been near impossible if not a complete implausibility. So, he says as such. “The one who can save this world,” he sounded resigned even to his own ears, “it might be you, not me.”
The one who's supposed to save this world—at the very least, this world—would be you, and if in this conclusion, Yoo Joonghyuk was unnecessary—if all along, what he desired so fervently could only be achieved if he were not here; if these eternal repetitions would have to continue and never end for at least one world to be saved, then he was prepared to do whatever was necessary. In the multitudes of worldlines that Yoo Joonghyuk has traversed and will continue to traverse, he would like to at least be assured that he was able to save one.
Even if it means he would forever be trapped in this unending cycle of tragedy.
Ah, he shouldn't have realized it.
It would have been better had he not realized it. It would have been easier had he stopped caring, had he never learned to care for anyone—because then the ache in his chest would not incessantly grow like a gnawing aberration. Even still, he cannot stop caring, he cannot stop loving, and he does not want to stop.
They were all here, the people that he wanted to reach this world's conclusion. They are here because of Kim Dokja's presence. They are here because of his existence, because of this anomaly that didn't exist in previous regressions—and ah, he can't help but admit how fond he was of this round. He can't help but admit that he actually found this round interesting. He can't help but admit that he does not want to let go of this round, but he has to, doesn't he?
There has always been one option from the very beginning, and he knew what he had to do the moment he realized what this scenario would entail. It seemed like this particular round let their paths intersect—but this thread that connects him and Kim Dokja… he has to sever it with his own hands.
Yoo Joonghyuk wants to continue to live in this round. He wants to live in this world where most of the people he cared for are still alive and well. He wants to continue existing in this place—and, begrudgingly, he also wishes to continue to be a part of the nebulae that Kim Dokja so carelessly yet intently created; but he cannot.
He wonders if he could say that he loved this world, that he still ended up cherishing this particular round despite having started it with near to no hope. He wonders if Kim Dokja would laugh at him if he heard him admitting this; he wonders if the day could have come when he would have admitted it. Had fate not deemed this to be this regression's end, perhaps something like that could have happened.
If Yoo Joonghyuk does not become the demon king, Kim Dokja will, and failure from the scenario is equivalent to being expelled from the star stream, and this little... company that they founded together will eventually fall apart. It does not take a genius to see that they all circle around Kim Dokja as if he were a lifeline, as if they cannot let go of him, and Yoo Joonghyuk cannot even reproach them for that, because even he does not feel that he could let go of this world and by extension, Kim Dokja, however foolish he knows the thought is.
This is the logical conclusion, the path that he must choose to take. Even now, he realizes that everything is still for them. Even still. Even if the path he treads on always leads to this choice, Yoo Joonghyuk doesn't think he would ever regret choosing them. If there was something he thinks he would regret, it would be being unable to find a way to stay.
It would be being unable to find a way to see what the ending could be like if he were in a world where Kim Dokja existed—and Yoo Joonghyuk thinks, perhaps he feels the same way, perhaps he too wants to see the ending in a world where I exist, perhaps then, I can understand.
Yoo Joonghyuk had already resolved himself by then. It was not that he had accepted to let go of this world—but that he had accepted that this was what he must do for this world.
He does not want to give up on this regression—but that was also precisely why this was his decision, and he has already resigned himself to this ultimatum.
Yet—yet even when Yoo Joonghyuk made the effort to explain how this world shouldn't be affected by his death, that this story will continue to exist regardless of whether he regresses or not, that Kim Dokja should be the one to live, that fool still fails to understand—or perhaps he already understood Yoo Joonghyuk's intentions, perhaps that was precisely why he appeared that heartbroken, perhaps unlike how Yoo Joonghyuk feels that he may forever be unable to understand Kim Dokja, Kim Dokja had already understood him from the very beginning.
This possibility should have made him uncomfortable, yet, it was strangely comforting.
“With this, I will pay off the debt,” Kim Dokja breathes out, sounding somewhat content. Yoo Joonghyuk voices his confusion because once again, he doesn’t know what Kim Dokja was implying, what debt he was talking about when Yoo Joonghyuk had never done anything that could be considered a debt. “You saved me once—now, I’m going to save you.”
Yoo Joonghyuk does not understand. When did he ever save Kim Dokja? That wasn’t possible—Kim Dokja didn’t exist anywhere in the previous regressions that he had walked. He would ask that question—except everything happens too quickly, the jade left its place from his hand when Kim Dokja activated his skills, and Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t even given the time to process the situation, to attempt to understand.
Yoo Joonghyuk was prepared to do anything and everything only so that Kim Dokja would not have to be the one to take this path—so that he would not have to be the one who dies.
Yet—Kim Dokja takes the demon king's jewel and Yoo Joonghyuk could do nothing but watch as this hope that he had found amidst these adversities offered himself to the flame as a sacrifice yet again—as if it was his very nature to burn himself in a scorching inferno for those that he loved—and wasn’t that yet another thing that was so unimaginably strange to understand? For some reason that Yoo Joonghyuk cannot comprehend, it seemed as if he belonged in all that Kim Dokja loved.
It seemed as if Kim Dokja believed that Yoo Joonghyuk belonged by his side. It seemed as if he was telling him— where do you think you’re going? You’re staying right here. It seemed as if he knew just how much Yoo Joonghyuk wanted to stay like he was saying that his place was right here, in this little ragtag team of theirs.
It was unfamiliar because Yoo Joonghyuk was so accustomed to being the one giving, to only receive from those who already received from him, so when Kim Dokja seemed to offer every bit of devotion he had to Yoo Joonghyuk every single time, Yoo Joonghyuk is left to wonder why he kept giving so much, before realizing that he should be asking that question to himself. However, if he does ask it to himself, he knows that he will not have a response because he doesn’t know why as well.
That man shamelessly holds the jade within his hand and looks at them as if he has not just ruined all of Yoo Joonghyuk's plans as he always does.
Yoo Joonghyuk wanted to ask him, 'What are you doing, you fool?!'—but there is no time, there is never enough time. However many regressions there may be, this may be the only one Kim Dokja to ever exist—this may very well be the only round that Kim Dokja lives; Yoo Joonghyuk may have an infinite amount of chances, but this might be the only chance he has to live with Kim Dokja—and Yoo Joonghyuk feels fear constricting his heart.
"Believe in me," Kim Dokja says—there is not even a flicker of hesitation in his voice as he urges them to take him down. "I will resurrect," he reassures them. Even Yoo Joonghyuk is urged to believe him— Yoo Joonghyuk wants to believe him, so he understands why the company was clinging to his words as if they were a lifeline, he understands why they were holding onto this so desperately because Yoo Joonghyuk couldn't help but want to believe in his words too.
If they—if he—wouldn't hold onto Kim Dokja's words that he will return, then how will they be able to continue?
Yoo Joonghyuk understands that there is only one way to conclude this scenario. Even still, his grip on the hilt of the heavenly sword of gathering clouds wavers—because even though the prophecy can only be fulfilled if this sword is used so that Kim Dokja will no longer resurrect, what if he no longer returns, what if it is also because of Yoo Joonghyuk that he will forever be unable to come back?
This— this wasn’t what he wanted.
He could vividly make out the heartbreak coiling into their expressions as they made their resolve to continue to believe, the tears brimming from the corners of their eyes as they unsheathed their blades to defeat the constellation that they loved so dearly, that no one could ever replace. It was so unarguably clear how much love they had for him—it was so unquestionable how dear they held him. Yoo Joonghyuk could never imagine letting go.
Yoo Joonghyuk was resolved to be the one to die in this scenario—but perhaps, all along, all he wanted was to not be the one to have to do this—because as the sword within his grasp pierces Kim Dokja’s body and cruel crimson streams down the blade, he realizes that this time it is not just that he has to lose someone he has grown to care for in front of his eyes, but he would have to accept that he was the one who would bring about his end, and he holds Kim Dokja as he falls.
Kim Dokja holds the back of Yoo Joonghyuk's head and lightly caresses it as if he were a child, as if he were something so incredibly precious to him—Yoo Joonghyuk meets Kim Dokja's eyes and sees those blood-red rubies stutter close. Yoo Joonghyuk couldn't stop himself from holding him even tighter, even closer, because he was on the verge of disappearing, and if he were to let go, if Yoo Joonghyuk would let go of him, then he might never be within his reach again—he may never be able to feel the warmth of his body against his, never be able to find this man in any other worldline.
Kim Dokja leans into his touch as if consoling him and his gigantic wings flutter closer to him, folding just a little bit as if he was holding Yoo Joonghyuk in return, as if even now, even as he is the one who was on the verge of death, there was nothing more that he wished than to protect Yoo Joonghyuk—than to protect this little group that they found, this little family that holds them together, and even this act of sacrifice was yet another of his ways to protect them.
Yoo Joonghyuk was unfamiliar with that feeling because he was so used to being the one to protect rather than being one who anyone would want to protect, and somehow he wondered how it would feel to seek shelter underneath those wings, and he thinks, you’re a fool, Yoo Joonghyuk; this is exactly how it would feel.
Yet again, the things he ought to protect—the people he must protect, they lose their light within his arms. Yet again, there is another cruel death—another outcome he was far too powerless to change despite living multitudes of lifetimes.
"Kim Dokja," he whispers—it sounded broken.
Kim Dokja's lips curl up into a small, content smile— how could you smile like that? How could you smile as if it was no matter of consequence, as if this was always how it was meant to be, even in this situation?!—and he says, "It was a really great story, wasn't it?"
Yoo Joonghyuk breathed in shakily and— he cannot respond; he felt rather out of breath, like there was something unknown obstructing his throat. He felt as if he was unable to voice out the words he wished to speak, like those sentences were forever lodged in that passageway—it’s pathetic, because even when Kim Dokja practically giftedhim the world, the words just won’t come out—even though the world that Kim Dokja brought to him, the possibility of a future that Kim Dokja showed to him, this story was unimaginably pleasant and he could almost imagine reaching the end of his endless regressions if it were with him, and he cannot say you can't die, don't you dare, not after all this time, not after giving me hope and I so foolishly held onto that because you were here.
He cannot say that he had begrudgingly started looking forward to the stories that Kim Dokja will continue to create, that there was this uncontrollable anticipation for being part of the world that that man will craft with his own hands that he was and will never be able to experience in any other regression.
He cannot say it because there is a familiar lump wedged in his throat and he cannot even breathe, much less speak. The blood mercilessly drips down Kim Dokja's chest, the sanguine red trailing down Yoo Joonghyuk's hands as he holds him close, desperate even for the faintest smidgen of warmth—any proof that Kim Dokja was still alive. He feels the warmth gradually leave Kim Dokja’s body, and Yoo Joonghyuk cannot bear to see this again, he can't do this again.
Yoo Joonghyuk had seen Kim Dokja die so many times that he had gotten far too used to the impermanence. Even still, back then, even while being completely aware that Kim Dokja would resurrect, Yoo Joonghyuk's heart still beat so frantically in unadulterated terror and he couldn't control what might have been a troubled expression painting itself on his features. This—this inescapable fear that enveloped Yoo Joonghyuk right now was comparable to—or even worse than—the terror he felt upon witnessing his loved ones die in his first life.
He breathes in and he knows that he's trembling. He does not want to let go yet it feels as if he would fall apart any moment now. He has a firm hold of Kim Dokja but it feels as if the world is about to shatter right then and there. He falls back to his usual mechanism of thinking if he should just regress, finding himself entertaining the possibility of another regression with Kim Dokja. But no, he cannot—he was not willing to risk this uncertainty, he could not even bear to consider that possibility.
Kim Dokja looked at the sky with a laugh; then, he said, like it was a certainty—like it was to reassure them, as if there could never have been any other path that they should take, and ever so vaguely, Yoo Joonghyuk sees his reflection in his eyes, "Let's meet again, Yoo Joonghyuk."
Yoo Joonghyuk does not wish for Kim Dokja's death. He does not wish for this story to end, not just yet.
He cannot accept the possibility that this would be the end. There was more to this, there had to be more to this. But—but if this would be the end, if this ending would be the finale that they reach, then how would Yoo Joonghyuk be ever able to know whatever epilogue Kim Dokja claimed he wanted to see —how could he ever understand the silent, almost incomprehensible whisper beneath those words that seemed to imply as if the epilogue he wanted to see was an ending with them, with him (‘...with this beloved, yet stupidly foolish protagonist of the story that I love more than anything in the world ’).
So, he finds himself clinging to those words, to that hope that Kim Dokja carelessly gives him and holds it close to his heart, like he does, again and again, and again as he repeats this godforsaken cycle, as he repeatedly dances this song of eternal repetition, except this time, except this time, the hope he cradles so tenderly belongs solely to this lifetime.
Kim Dokja pushes him slightly as a consuming black manifest behind him. Yoo Joonghyuk felt his heart threatening to leap out of his chest, somehow knowing what was going to happen. He tightens his hold on Kim Dokja, desperate not to let him go—because when else, when else, in the infinity of regressions would he ever find someone like Kim Dokja?
Kim Dokja mouths to him, “Survive, Yoo Joonghyuk,” and Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t comprehend why he was the one saying that as if that was the only thing he could ever wish for even in death, why he was the one saying the words that Yoo Joonghyuk wanted to be the one to say to him.
Kim Dokja's body slowly shatters into little fragments—and Yoo Joonghyuk runs towards him, frantically trying to reach him, to hold him close, afraid that he would disappear right in front of him, that he will no longer be able to find him ever again, that all that he is will fade into dust and what else would Yoo Joonghyuk be able to do but hope ?
He grasps him by the collar to take him back into his arms but even that disperses and he realizes that he is forced to let go of even this hope.
"Kim Dokja," he whispers like a prayer as he sees the pieces of him scatter. The rate by which his body dissipated rapidly increased and he continued to be absorbed by the void, and Yoo Joonghyuk could not help but voice out his refusal—"No!" This couldn't be happening. This wasn't what Yoo Joonghyuk wanted; he didn't want to let this happen except he had no choice, it felt as if he'd never had any choice, and this one time that he did choose him, it still felt as if that very choice was being callously taken away from him, "Kim Dokja."
Yoo Joonghyuk tries to hold him closer, but there is no longer anything left; he tries to hold him closer, but it is far too late to do anything more than look at the scattered pieces of him left, and watch as even those slowly disappear. Yoo Joonghyuk inhales a wobbly breath and he does not understand why it felt as if it was the world that broke into a million pieces; he cannot explain the way his chest tightens and he feels that he would shatter immediately after.
Perhaps it was also then that he reacknowledges that there was truly no benevolent god that would make your wishes come true—and, if there were no god to grant meaning to his wish, then he would have to be the one to carefully weave meaning into his prayer—
He has to survive. He has to survive. He has to survive. Ah, dying words were really like a curse. Even still… Even still, he has to hold onto those words that were spoken like a promise.
…he swears that he will find him; if he was expelled from the star stream, then that means he might exist somewhere where the eyes of the star stream does not reach—Yoo Joonghyuk is certain that Kim Dokja will find a way out of what seems to be another certainty (he wants to believe that he will find a way)—and once he returns, he will return, he has to—Yoo Joonghyuk would do anything and everything to keep him from choosing death yet again.
Yoo Joonghyuk tasted brine on his tongue. He shifts his hand, the same one that killed him, the same one stained with his blood, and he touches his face. He realizes, then, that he was crying.