Work Text:
Kim Dokja gazed at his surroundings as he picked his way through desperate incarnations clawing at the walls and people around them. He grimaced as the stench of blood clouded his senses, lifting a hand to cover the lower part of his face.
A sense of hopelessness welled inside his chest as he glanced once more at the blinking scenario screen, scrambling to make sense of what just became his reality.
۶ৎ
Kim Dokja had been searching for food and healing potions for his companions when he stumbled upon a relatively intact hotel, about fifteen stories high. It was the only building in his immediate range that looked like it wouldn’t collapse with a careful swing of the entrance doors. It had been mentioned in the TWSA novel, a safe haven in the ruined Seoul Dome.
Yoo Joonghyuk had stumbled upon this building while trying to escape the fifth and sixth scenarios, and had managed to find some items of importance. That was all that was specified, but it was more than enough for Kim Dokja to make his decision.
‘Even though Yoo Joonghyuk had entered this building before, I’m not too sure on what I’ll find.’ Kim Dokja thought as he approached the gently swaying glass doors.
‘Surely my presence hasn’t shifted the novel that much, but…’ He shook his head to clear his thoughts and stepped up to the doors, carefully shifting his way into the hotel.
A lightly-trashed lobby greeted him as he took in his surroundings, stopping him in his tracks as he gazed in curiosity. The lobby had a vast amount of space, undoubtedly beautiful before the apocalypse struck Seoul and all its civilians. The fancy wallpaper had deep claw marks and fraying edges, leading downwards to the carpeted floor dulling his footsteps. The lack of shattered glass and the intact mirror wall next to the stairs gave him a bit of a pause, but Kim Dokja dismissed it. The chandelier swaying on the ceiling lit the darkened lobby, giving it a false sense of security as warm light flooded the room.
‘Looks like they still have electricity in this building.’
Kim Dokja ran his fingers through the gold railings leading to the reception desk, taking in the rummaged drawers and forgotten badges of the past employees. He hopped over the desk, albeit a bit clumsily.
He was still the same awkward, quiet office worker as before, believe it or not. Upgraded stats can only do so much for you, and his dexterity unfortunately remained mostly the same as before.
The lack of pinging messages from the Constellations made him hesitate, but he brushed it off with a swipe of his hands on the dusty desk. Any moment of silence from the Constellations should be appreciated, even if he wishes it wasn’t so quiet. The haunted lighting wasn’t helping in slowing down his beating heart.
「 Kim Dok ja wis hes he wasn’t a lone. 」
“I don’t need someone with me, stop spouting nonsense.” Kim Dokja responded hastily, his voice slightly echoing in the abandoned lobby.
‘Although a helping hand would certainly be valued. This hotel doesn’t exactly enforce a sense of safety.’
His searching fingers passed over a cold metal, twitching in surprise. He hummed in consideration as he picked it up and brought it to the light, lips quirked in haughtiness.
The novel mentioned Yoo Joonghyuk had picked up the key to the stairwell after realizing the elevator was stuck somewhere between the middle floors. Of course, only he and the protagonist knew of an alternative entrance to the upper floors, granted through the winding staircase where the employees previously scurried through.
‘Found it.’ He bragged as he slipped around the reception desk and advanced towards the back of the lobby.
Kim Dokja ignored the occasional groan of the building settling in, carefully side-stepping the drops of blood in the patterned carpet.
So far, there wasn’t a hint of previous tenants occupying the building. It was suspiciously clean for a hotel smack dab in the middle of the apocalyptic Seoul Dome, but he digresses. What was important was finding salvageable materials for his companions before the sunfish stole the building’s gold mine of resources. He wasn’t confident that Yoo Joonghyuk would share with the others, what with his tendency to self persevere in the long run. Perhaps Lee Jihye and Lee Seolhwa might be graced with his kindness, if he decided it wouldn’t interfere with his plans.
Eventually, Kim Dokja reached the darkened ‘Employee’ door behind the main stairwell, shoving the key into the keyhole with little resistance. He opened it with ease, waving the dust that greeted him away with his unoccupied hand.
He looked up the winding staircase, watching the occasional splutter of red lights flashing from high above. It smelled dank and stagnant, dusty air layered with notes of damp rot, old concrete, and metallic decay. It was expected in neglected spaces, therefore he pushed through and closed the door softly behind him.
۶ৎ
As the door to the ‘Employee’ stairwell closed with a soft click, another pair of feet approached the entrance to the hotel. Dark combat boots crunched the gravel outside the door, pausing at the threshold as the figure stopped in deliberation.
Stormy grey eyes narrowed at the visible footsteps in the entry way, flashing up towards the doors. The boots continued their approach and stepped into the building with swiftness, surveying the empty room. It carried the smell of stale air, and a distinctive path of footprints dotting the floor.
‘Kim Dokja…’ The shadowed figure strides to the reception desk, rounding it to look into the third drawer beside the office chair. ‘He even foresaw this place.’
The person scoffed and sauntered to the back of the building, following the steps of the dastardly prophet. He paused at the ‘Employee’ door and grabbed the door handle with surety, forgoing the single metal key left glistening in the keyhole.
‘This fool, does he know what awaits?’
۶ৎ
Kim Dokja strolled up the staircase at a leisurely pace, hands stuffed in his pockets. He’d been climbing for a couple minutes now, maintaining a steady breath as he went further.
‘Thanks to the novel for implementing stats into the plot,’ He pondered. ‘I would’ve never made it this far otherwise.’
He eyed the number ‘12’ that greeted him as he cleared another set of stairs, continuing on his way up. There were no signs of life in this space, only the sound of dripping water and his footsteps.
As he trudged the final steps of the twelfth floor, he paused.
Instead of being faced with the thirteenth set of stairs, the riser and tread on the mid-landing was separated, leaving a gaping hole. He looked over his left shoulder to the door with a number ‘12’ above it, turning to face it slowly.
‘I guess this was the highest floor Yoo Joonghyuk stopped at.’ Kim Dokja concluded, sauntering to the door.
He grasped the chilled brass handle and swung it open, keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword, [Unbroken Faith.]
What greeted him was an empty floor lounge, separated from the main hallway with flickering lights. It featured a decorative brown console table, large mirrors, a grand window, and a couple of accent chairs for guests waiting for the elevator.
As Kim Dokja stepped into the new area, he caught a glimpse of a shadow from one of the large mirrors facing him. He ignored his own reflection and instead tried to see if he could catch another glance, eyes flickering around him erratically. His grip on his sword tightened as he came to a startling conclusion.
‘Is this an instance of scary hallway ghosts or is this place not as empty as I thought?’
He approached the arched entryway silently, his sword sliding from its scabbard with a resounding scrape.
۶ৎ
The air in the hallway was thick with the stench of human desperation. Scattered across the cramped hallway and collapsed against the walls, the trapped incarnations looked less like people and more like hollow corpses, clutching at each other with shaking hands.
Then, the corner of a white coat brushed past the doorway. The crowd flinched back, weapons raised in blind panic. But as he walked fully into the dim light, the frantic whispers evaporated. An eerie stillness greeted the man in white.
The survivors studied the man frantically, wondering if he was there to save them. However, in a flash of light, Biryu, an intermediate Dokkaebi who actively despises Bihyung’s sudden success appeared with a flourish in front of a frozen Kim Dokja. Dressed in a small, sleek semi-formal vest, Biryu flashed a fanged grin and spread his arms wide to a distraught audience.
“My, my! Look at this pathetic little huddle,” Biryu chuckled, his voice a high-pitched, mocking chirp that echoed off the plastered walls. “Hiding away on the top floor of a hotel while the world burns below? How utterly… boring.”
The survivors flinched, weapons shaking in their hands, forgetting the newcomer in the face of a greater danger.
“The great Constellations of the Star Stream didn’t tune into my channel to watch a bunch of hairless monkeys shiver in the dark!” Biryu’s smile turned sharp, his eyes glinting with pure sadism. “They want entertainment. They want drama! They want to see what happens when your precious human morality is stripped away.”
He snapped his fingers. A massive metallic crate slammed onto the blood stained carpet with a heavy thud, and a bright blue system window exploded into light before every incarnation’s eyes. Unbeknownst to everyone gathered there, another shadow slithered through the gaping door.
“So, let’s play a game! I call this one: The Traitor’s Bounty,” Biryu purred, floating backward toward the ceiling to stay out of arm’s reach. “The rules are wonderfully simple. Thirty of you walked into this hallway, but only two get to walk out alive with the prize. Oh, and to the person who has the guts to spill blood first? I’ll give you a little head start.”
He tapped a holographic screen floating in front of him, his grin widening as he checked his rising subscriber count.
“You have exactly sixty minutes before your hearts explode. The cameras are rolling, the sponsors are watching… So please, do try to make a beautiful mess of each other!”
[A hidden scenario has arrived!]
+
< Hidden Scenario – The Traitor’s Bounty >
Category: Hidden
Difficulty: ???
Clear Conditions:
- Eliminate all other designated targets in the room.
- The scenario will successfully conclude when only 2 living incarnations remain within the boundary.
Time Limit: 1 hour
Compensation/Reward:
- 10,000 Coins
- [Elixir of Life (Low-Grade)] x3
- [High-Grade Ration Box] x1
- Activating exclusive safe passage to the nearest non-combat sector.
Failure Penalty: Instant termination of remaining survivors within the boundary.
+
Additional Notes:
- [Boundary Constraint]: A physical probability barrier has been erected on the top floors of the building. Any attempt to exit the barrier will result in sudden death via disintegration.
- [Sponsor Intervention]: Direct Stigma usage from sponsoring Constellations is heavily restricted for the first 30 minutes to ensure a “fair and raw” entertainment value for the subscribers.
- [The Traitor’s Buff]: To encourage rapid completion, the incarnation who draws the “First Blood” of the scenario will receive a temporary 15-minute buff: [Stamina recovery speed increased by 50%] and [Attack Power increased by 15%].
At first, everyone is horrified. They look at their friends and allies.
Kim Dokja screwed his eyes shut, his brow furrowing into a tight knot. ‘I should’ve known this building was too good to be true, damn you, Yoo Joonghyuk!’
A shivering man from the back of the group hobbled to the metallic crate embedded in the carpeted floor. Kim Dokja watched him warily, staying where he was. He opened his skill ‘Character List’ after a moment of contemplation, pinpointed on the guy who was shakily unlatching the crate.
[Character Summary]
Name: Min Jin-Woo
Age: 28
Sponsor: None
Attribute: Cowardly Civilian (General)
Exclusive Skills: [Calm Observation Lv. 1], [Coward's Sprint Lv. 2]
Stigmas: None
Overall Stats: [Physique Lv. 8], [Agility Lv. 10], [Strength Lv. 7], [Magic Power Lv. 4]
Overall Evaluation: An ordinary salaryman who survived the initial scenarios by hiding behind stronger incarnations. His current mental state is highly unstable due to severe starvation and panic. He is highly likely to commit an act of betrayal to secure the scenario reward.
“Kim Dokja.”
The voice is stripped of unnecessary warmth or empathy, hardened by centuries of trauma, startling the addressee as Dokja swivels to look at them.
“Joonghyuk-ah?,” He blurted, caught off guard. “What are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you that, fool,” The protagonist shot back, prowling to stand beside the man in white.
“No, this is dangerous! You need to get out of here…” Kim Dokja retorted at the tall man, trying to shake off the feeling of relief at seeing him. “Look! The door is still open-”
He was cut off by the resounding slam of the aforementioned door, the ominous red light disappearing with it. That seemed to be the noise that startled everyone into movement as they jumped to their feet and clambered to the crate.
“Hey! Hold on–!” A woman shouted, pushing the rest away as she came to the front of the group. “We need to think rationally, m-maybe there’s a hidden clear condition where nobody has to die!”
At this, everyone froze in their steps and turned to look at her apprehensively. Even Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja seized their movements.
“You’re crazy! Get out the damn way, lady,” A man, roughly the age of twenty-five argued back. In his hand he held a compact, double-edged knife, which was currently held in front of him threateningly.
“Some of us are trying to survive here, so if you get in the way of that, I’ll have to make an example out of you to show the reality of this situation to you sniveling idiots.”
[ The Constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ is roaring for blood! ]
Amidst the clamoring and yelling, Yoo Joonghyuk shifted his sword to his side and began to step towards the commotion.
Kim Dokja, who was trying to make sense of the situation and thinking of a way to end this without overcomplicating it, saw this aborted movement and instantly grasped his forearm. It was done without much thought, so he didn’t see the way Yoo Joonghyuk stiffened and glared at the offending hand.
Dokja let go as soon as he realized what he’d done, trying to erase the feeling of coiled muscles he felt beneath the dark fabric.
The scenario was violent in nature, and it was an exact replica of the first Main Scenario that had gone down in the beginning. What made a huge difference was the overall stats most of them upgraded and their stigmas. However, the ‘Sponsor Intervention’ changed the playing field entirely. Min Jin-Woo, the first guy he had studied, was still small-fry compared to Yoo Joonghyuk.
Technically, Dokja had nothing to worry about because of the protagonist currently eying everyone down. But, if one manages to slip by, his personal attribute [King of No Killing] will be a hindrance in this scenario.
With this in mind, he made his decision.
The thirty incarnations were already scattering to different corners and shielding their allies. In each of their hands, they held a variety of weapons and bludgeons. Kim Dokja noted these weapons down as he walked forwards with his hands in his pockets. No one was a real threat to him, so he had nothing to worry about.
The protagonist growled something from behind him, but he paid him no mind. If he wanted to do things his own way, he should’ve gotten here sooner.
Dokja scanned all the participants as he drew closer, paying close attention to their attributes and agility stat. If someone were to take advantage of the ‘First Blood’ buff, it would be someone explosive or unpredictable.
As his skill ‘Character List’ opened up tabs on everyone, he came across a young girl who had been initially cowering in a crouch.
[Character Summary]
Name: Han Da-Eun
Age: 15
Sponsor: None
Attribute: Traumatized Stray (Rare), Latent Butcher (Heroic)
Exclusive Skills: [Presence Suppression Lv. 3], [Weapon Augmentation (Blades) Lv. 2], [Spilled Copper Qi Lv. 1]
Stigmas: None
Overall Stats: [Physique Lv. 14], [Agility Lv. 19], [Strength Lv. 11], [Magic Power Lv. 15]
Overall Evaluation: A child who survived the destruction of the Gangnam district by hiding in narrow ventilation shafts. Due to witnessing the horrific deaths of her family during the Third Scenario, her mind has fractured, unlocking the rare [Latent Butcher] attribute. While her physical strength is low, her agility and violent awakening skill make her an exceptional assassin in close-quarters combat. Do not be deceived by her tears; she will strike without hesitation if cornered.
The fact that she had a Heroic attribute and no Sponsor instantly caught his attention when compared to the others. If anyone were to corner her, they’d be struck down before they can even blink.
‘Her attributes are remarkably impressive for an un-sponsored child. She would’ve been a valuable asset to our team, it’s a shame only two of us could survive.’
As he made it about halfway through the crowd, he realized with a start that everyone was looking at him. Some made it obvious, holding a dagger or bat pointed vertically from their chest and keeping him within sight, their eyes venomous and scathing. Others glanced at him from the corner of their eyes, bodies pointed in his direction but heads turned away.
Kim Dokja ignored these stares, trying not to drown under the indescribable familiarity, and sidled next to Han Da-Eun.
“Hey,” Dokja whispered softly, smiling politely at the girl shivering in fright.
She shot her head up with a gasp, taking in his distorted expression and sheathed sword. In a flash, she brought out a butcher knife with serrated edges and balanced on her heels in anticipation. She didn’t know what to make of the man in white, only seeing him enter with the terrifying tall man in black currently glaring at her.
“Don’t worry, I just want to know your name.” The man said, crouching down beside her.
Her instincts started screaming at her to attack this guy, but she tried to calm them down as she studied him wildly.
Slowly, Dokja brought out his hand and turned it palm side up, giving it to the defensive girl as he looked for any signs of distress. He saw her eyes dart to his hand and back up to his face, tension minutely melting from her shoulders.
As she slowly put down the knife, she hesitantly made to grab at his pale hand–
The sound of a wet squelch and gurgling rang out above the nervous chatter.
Kim Dokja whipped his head towards the sound, hand flying down to his sword. He witnessed the man who had threatened the young woman from earlier, whose name was Song Dae-Hyun, repeatedly thrusting his dagger into an older man. His animalistic grunts highlighted each impact as blood sprayed from the stab wounds, coating the walls and ceiling in bright red.
In a panic, the incarnations started shoving and screaming. Dokja saw as Song Dae-Hyun’s body was outlined in red and the temporary system condition ‘First Blood’ flickered into existence.
The reader reached for the hilt of [Unbroken Faith], his fingers tightening around the sword. But, before he could draw the blade, a suffocating pressure bore down on him with a screech.
[ A sub-scenario restriction has been applied to the current zone! ]
[ All Star-Relics and high-grade weapons above B-Grade are temporarily sealed. ]
A heavy, invisible magnetic force slammed into his clenched fist, forcing his fingers open against his will. In a flash, [Unbroken Faith] was violently wrenched from his grip and disappeared into a spacial fracture in the floor with a dull pop.
The air in the hotel hallway grew heavy, dropping like lead weight onto the survivors’ shoulders. Han Da-Eun tried to activate her [Latent Butcher] attribute, but the familiar burning sensation in her veins died instantly. She gasped, clutching her chest as a sharp, stabbing pain flared in her heart.
[ The Intermediate Dokkaebi ‘Biryu’ has invested in localized Probabilty to alter the scenario rules! ]
[ The use of all active combat-type skills is strictly prohibited for the next hour. ]
As Kim Dokja gained his bearings and gripped the wall to shakily stand up, a blaring red pop-up appeared in front of him.
[ Warning. A severe environmental penalty is active. ]
Current Status: Restricted Zone (Hotel Floor 12)
Active Law: 'The Raw Cruelty of Bare Hands'
Affected Parameters:
Stigmas: [LOCKED]
Active Offensive Skills: [DEACTIVATED]
Weapon Inventory Access: [DENIED]
System Note: The sponsoring Constellations demand a visceral, primitive spectacle. Characters must rely purely on baseline physical stats and non-artifact blunt objects found within the environment. Any attempt to bypass this restriction will result in a [Probability Backlash].
The wailing grew louder as the rest got the same pop-up. Kim Dokja watched as Yoo Joonghyuk shook away the Probability and grabbed the nearest person’s collar.
Disoriented, he could do nothing but watch as the protagonist wrapped his large hands around this lady’s neck and squeezed until there was a crack. She was dead before she even hit the ground.
This action prompted Dokja to look back at Han Da-Eun, flinching as his body reflexively jumped back.
Han Da-Eun had raised her knife again as soon as the screams started up, glancing at the shivering man beside her. Her senses were going haywire and it felt like she was back at the Gangnam district, fighting for her life.
She took no chances and pounced as soon as they locked eyes, hers shining predatorily. Even with her Attribute [Latent Butcher] failing her, she didn’t let it deter her as she cried out in franticness.
“I’ll take you down first!”
[ Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint Stage 1 has been activated. ]
[ You have successfully evaded the attack. ]
۶ৎ
Kim Dokja jumped back before the ridges of her knife could plunge into his heart, falling onto his hands. Without the help of his combat active skills or [Unbroken Faith], he was more helpless than a newborn deer. The only saving grace was that it seemed his passive skills were overlooked.
「 Kim Dok ja, mo ve! 」
The blade flashed down. He twisted his torso sideways, pivoting on his palms as the butcher knife slashed at his coat. Before the attacker could regain her bearings and stab again, he dug his heels into the carpet and launched himself upward from the lean. Dokja snatched the girl’s collar, violently yanking her down while driving his knee straight up.
Bone met bone with a sickening crack.
Dokja’s breaths were coming in short, gasping pants. He looked down at the girl crumpled on the wall that looked so much like Shin Yoosung except her hair was a dirtier blonde and nothing like hers-
He only saw the warning flash of his [Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint] skill activate before he was tackled from behind by a pair of hands.
He crashed with a dull thud on the wall, already pushing off with his hands. But he was too slow. The Probability had struck him harder than he thought. Along with that, his mind was churning out ideas that were racing too quickly to comprehend.
A sudden heavy weight bore down on his shoulder, effectively rendering his dominant hand useless. It knocked the air right out of his lungs in a ragged gasp. He tried to turn, but his legs turned to water.
The attacker twisted the hilt, and Kim Dokja’s knees buckled under the pressure. An icy, piercing chill permeated through his chest that rapidly bloomed into suffocating heat. The metallic taste of copper flooded his mouth before he even realized he had been cut.
The knife withdrew, punching out a curse from his lips. Blood flowed from the wound, staining his jacket in a stream of red.
Kim Dokja clasped a hand over his shoulder and shifted to look at the perpetrator.
Park Yi-jun, a shifty-eyed woman he had initially overlooked because her attributes were useless, stared back at him in horror. She prepared to strike again, raising the butterfly knife above her head.
Dokja moved before she could bring it down, seizing her wrists in both hands. His shoulder shrieked in agony, getting soothed away by [The Fourth Wall.]
The blade hovered inches from his face, trembling from the effort exerted by both parties. Betting everything on raw leverage, he brutally twisted his right wrist outward, snapping the attacker’s thumb back to break their grip. As the knife slipped from her fingers, Kim Dokja drove his forehead straight onwards, shattering Park Yi-jun’s nose.
He pushed her away as she cried, sending her tumbling into another group of survivor’s where she ultimately got struck by a wayward swing of a bat.
「 The Fourth Wall is shak ing. 」
The sudden exertion tore at the wound in his shoulder, white-hot pain blinding him for a split second. Kim Dokja staggered, his knees nearly buckling, but his eyes locked onto the discarded iron pipe a few feet away. Dropping to his knees, he lunged forward, his fingers clawing desperately through the floor until they wrapped around the heavy metal.
[ Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint Stage 1 has been activated. ]
[ The incarnation from behind intends to swing. Trajectory: A vertical downward smash with a club. ]
A new attacker charged, closing the distance fast. The man brought a heavy club down toward his head.
Dokja hoisted the acquired iron pipe horizontally above his head, locking his elbows out to catch the blow. The weapons collided with a screech of metal, vibrating straight through his teeth. Holding the lock, he used the pipe’s leverage to twist it away, throwing the man off-balance and exposing his ribs.
The iron pipe struck the man’s flank with a sickening, wet crunch. The man didn’t cave in like a hollow shell, but when he desperately dragged air into his lungs, his torso warped. The skin over his lower ribs violently sucked inward–forming a deep, unnatural crater–while the rest of his chest expanded.
As another incarnation went down, Kim Dokja examined the struggling efforts of the rest of the scenario’s survivors.
The hallway had dissolved into a roaring bottleneck of cruelty. The twenty-foot narrow corridors were packed wall-to-wall with flashing limbs and desperate, scrambling bodies. Shadows warped violently against the flickering overhead lights. Many were slumped in a pool of their own blood, remaining dead to the world or writhing erratically in an attempt to get back on their feet.
To his left, two men were locked in a blind chokehold, rolling across the floor and smashing through a wooden doorframe. To his right, a young man held a woman hostage and tried to swing at the two other men approaching him. The air was thick with the choking stench of sweat, ozone, and copper.
There was no room to breathe, let alone escape.
[ The Constellation ‘Monarch of the Small Fries’ is highly amused by the panic of the civilians. ]
[ The Constellation ‘Sovereign of the Underworld’ is silently looking at you. ]
[ The Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is biting her handkerchief in sheer anxiety. ]
Kim Dokja patted his pockets down to bring out his cellphone, desperate for a hint of anything in the novel. It was mentioned in Yoo Joonghyuk’s 363rd round, and just like before, there wasn’t a hint of this Hidden Scenario in the two meagre paragraphs.
“Joonghyuk-ah!” He rasped, suddenly remembering that he wasn’t here alone.
Kim Dokja looked up in a flash to catch a glimpse of the man.
Thwack!
۶ৎ
Wall is- 」
Ping!
「 K-Kim Dokja– 」
Ping! Ping!
Kim Dokja’s eyelids fluttered as he attempted to assuage the pain.
It felt like he was back in that alleyway, watching Song Minwoo and his lackeys take turns trying to force a reaction out of him. A bat had surfaced at some point–and when he finally came to, the air was chilly, and the starry night had flickered above him.
Ping!
Kim Dokja spotted the grainy wood of a baseball bat from the black spots in his vision. The pot-bellied man shifted into Song Minwoo-
「 The Fou rth Wall has acc limatized to the p ain. 」
“Get up, Kim Dokja!”
The heavy man was flung backwards as Dokja’s eyes snapped wide open. Yoo Joonghyuk tossed the man aside by the back of his shirt as he marched up to the prophet.
“Joonghyuk-ah! You’re–here?” Kim Dokja stammered.
“What are you doing, you fool?”
Joonghyuk reached down to grab the flimsy wrist of the skinny man and pulled him up harshly. Ignoring the cry of discomfort, he dragged him to an indented cutout in the hallway–concealing the two companions.
“You can let go now–” Kim Dokja started, trying to pull his wrist away from the tight clasp.
The skin beneath that scarred hand was warming up steadily, bringing a rush of comfort to the shivering man. He hadn’t realized he was colder than ice until that insignificant touch.
“How can you be so incompetent? I left you alone for five minutes,” Yoo Joonghyuk hissed, yanking Kim Dokja closer. “Five! Look at the state you’re in–”
“I’m fine, you bastard,” He snapped back. “Careful or I might start thinking you actually care about me.”
That stopped Joonghyuk in his tracks, allowing the reader to yank his arm away from his slackening grip.
He winced as it pulled on his mangled shoulder, rolling it back to play it off. Littered in splotches of drying blood, he straightened his collar in feigned aloofness. Kim Dokja cleared his throat as [The Fourth Wall] forcefully pushed the pain down.
“How many have you brought down so far?”
“What?” Yoo Joonghyuk spluttered.
If Kim Dokja hadn’t been so wary of potentially having to defend himself against a flying limb he would’ve rejoiced in successfully catching him off-guard.
“We are currently,” Dokja glanced at the scenario window hanging above them. “Six minutes into the scenario. I’ve handicapped atleast three people, and judging by the carnage back there we should be down to around twenty.”
Joonghyuk could only stare at him in silence as he flippantly brushed off his worrying state.
Kim Dokja’s coat was slashed and ripped open, parting to unfold the horrors of his black dress shirt in the same neglected state. Blood was still oozing sluggishly out the wound in his right shoulder. He favored his left leg as he tilted precariously on his feet, eyes clouding for a moment in anguish before it vanished. The skin over his right temple was split in a jagged line. Dark, thick blood pooled into his eyebrow and masked the right side of his face in a mask of crimson.
As Yoo Joonghyuk scrutinized his companion, he noticed his face was glitching spasmodically with every twitch.
“Joonghyuk-ah? What, were you stunned into silence by my beauty?”
Yoo Joonghyuk grunted in annoyance as he sharply turned his head away, jaw clenching in an effort to forget the gleaming eyes boring into him.
He shoved a hand towards the man in white, pushing his face back as he faced the carnage. Kim Dokja squawked and dug his nails into the arm blocking his view, hiding the sharp twinge of pain it brought to him.
Joonghyuk relished in the feeling of smooth skin underneath his coarse fingertips before jolting away.
‘There he goes again, downplaying his injuries to focus on completing the scenario.’
Ping!
Determinedly ignoring the flaring messages of the Constellations, Yoo Joonghyuk rushed back into the fray.
‘I’ll just have to end this once and for all before anything else happens to him.’
Kim Dokja watched him go, mouth agape, before he remembered where he was and followed after his reckless companion.
۶ৎ
Thump!
Slash!
Kim Dokja dodged as a man surged out of the crowd, swinging a rusted machete in a vicious, horizontal arc meant to decaptitate both of them.
Even surrounded by multiple enemies, Yoo Joonghyuk’s instincts were lethal. As the armed attacker stumbled into their space, his heavy, brass-knuckled fist shot out in a blind, short-range piston punch.
CRACK.
The blow caught the man squarely in the sternum, winding him. The sheer force of the impact blew the man off his feet, launching him backward into the crowd as they toppled under his weight.
Just then, another attacker whipping a heavy iron chain lashed in their direction like a leash. Dokja rushed in and braced his feet, tightly locking his arm around Joonghyuk’s bicep to keep him upright. With his right hand, he snapped his iron pipe upward.
CLANG.
The chain wrapped sporadically around the pipe, sparks showering their faces. Using the attacker’s own wavering balance against him, Kim Dokja pulled him inwards, right into the path of Yoo Joonghyuk’s iron-fisted strike.
“Watch your left, Joonghyuk-ah!” Dokja taunted, adrenaline making him giddy with fear.
His grumbling companion brushed off the comment as he blocked another person from getting too close to them. Unfortunately, a group of three used this chance to rush the protagonist and strike him, hoping to overwhelm him.
Kim Dokja tried to get to him in time to help, but a young girl stepped into his path, forcing him backwards and farther away from the protagonist.
Cursing softly under his breath, he only hoped that Yoo Joonghyuk could take them on with his insanely high stats.
[ The Constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ has sponsored 500 coins! ]
[ The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ feels a sudden rush of worry. ]
The crowd flooded the gap between him and Yoo Joonghyuk like a rising tide. A rusted pipe swung at his knees. He tried to leap back, but the narrow hallway trapped him. The metal smashed into his shin–CRACK–sending a white-hot shockwave up his spine.
「 Kim Dok ja mustnot feel th e pain. The Fourth Wa ll is... is tight en ing. 」
He stumbled, but before he could recover his balance, a blade flashed from his blind spot, shearing through his sleeve and carving a deep, cold line across his forearm.
He lashed out with a hiss, catching their wrist and using it to slice their own throat as they babbled in shock. His attribute [King of No Killing] was now disabled in this Hidden Scenario, so he had no qualms to hesitate. Blood sprayed from the huge incision, getting in his eyes as he tried to turn away from the liquid.
He swung his iron pipe blindly to keep them back, but he was too slow. A heavy boot kicked him squarely in the chest, driving his back violently against the wall. The impact tore open the stab wound in his shoulder, robbing his legs of all strength.
「 The exclusive skill 'The Fourth Wall' has temporarily deactivated due to excessive physiological load! 」
「 All sensory dampers have been removed. 」
Kim Dokja slid downwards as the overwhelming sensation of multiple abrasions and bruises flared up in agony. It felt like his whole body turned into an open wound, and he was left gasping for air as his lungs seized.
Hands clawed at his jacket, ripping the iron pipe from his weakening white-knuckled grip. A blunt club came down on his shoulder, deadening his arm entirely. He was on his knees now, bracketed by a wall of hostile boots, raising his one working forearm just to keep the descending blades away from his throat.
Through the gaps in the shifting crowd, Kim Dokja caught a split-second glimpse of Yoo Joonghyuk. The tall man was roaring, his broad shoulders heaving with rhythmic, crushing force–but three men were clinging to his back, dragging his great frame down to the floor by sheer numbers.
Past the blur of blood in his eyes, Dokja saw a man raise a rusted machete over his companion’s exposed neck.
He didn't think.
Kim Dokja threw himself across the gap, pitching his body over his companion’s broad shoulders. The heavy blade came down, burying itself deep into the meat of his own good shoulder instead. A sickening squelch vibrated down his spine. He screamed, a raw, wet sound, but he used his remaining arm to lock around his friend’s collar, pinning the big man beneath him.
The crowd converged on Kim Dokja’s back like a pack of wolves. Boots, pipes, and fists rained down on him in a deafening rhythm. Thwack. Thump. Crack.
His vision flickered, the edges turning entirely black, but he tightened his grip, bracing his elbows on the floor to form a protective canopy over his friend. He felt his own collarbone snap under a heavy boot. He felt his breath turn to bloody froth. But beneath him, he felt Yoo Joonghyuk’s strong chest heave as the bastard finally found his footing.
The blows on his back started to feel distant, like heavy waves slamming into a sinking ship.
The giant beneath him erupted with a roar that shook the walls. Massive hands reached up, tearing the attackers off his back. The sudden removal of the weight above Dokja made his arms buckle. His elbows collapsed, and he slid sideways, his face hitting the cold, slick tile of the floorboards.
The world immediately began to tilt. First his vision went. The flickering overhead lights smeared into long, blinding streaks of white before dissolving into a thick, creeping ink that rushed in from his peripheral vision. He tried to blink, but his eyelids felt like lead weights, sealing shut.
Next went the sound. The deafening roars of his friend and the wet, shattering impacts of the ongoing brawl began to warp. The noise muffled, dropping in pitch until it sounded like it was happening deep underwater, miles away. A high-pitched, steady ringing rose up to fill the silence in his ears.
Finally, the pain vanished. The white-hot agony in his back and the throbbing ache of his shattered collarbone simply grew cold. A strange, heavy numbness washed over his skin, dragging his consciousness down into the dark. Then, nothing.
[ The Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is shouting for revenge! ]
[ The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ is shocked. ]
[ The Constellation ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ is– ]
۶ৎ
Kim Dokja’s cries thundered in his ears and clenched his heart in its devastating pitch. His companion was supposed to be sturdier than this, he’d endured worse.
Another crunch wrung out as Yoo Joonghyuk smashed two people’s heads together, grabbing one of their flailing arms to wrench their head sideways in a sharp snap. He brought his combat boot down on the throat of the other one that was sent tumbling to the ground.
‘You fool! Why would you… protect me at the cost of your own life.’
Song Dae-Hyun, the guy that had the ‘First Blood’ buff, pulled back as his stats returned to normal, scurrying away from the wrath of the man in black. He’d gotten some good hits in, but the rascal in white blocked them all so he wasn’t able to disorient the stronger one.
Joonghyuk locked eyes with the guy as a ring sang out, announcing that the buff had run out after hitting the fifteen minute mark. His frame flickered in red once more before dying out completely, the bright red light dying out.
The frequency of the fading flickers above them slows down as the bulb stays darker for increasingly longer stretches. Yoo Joonghyuk used these increments of darkness to prowl towards his victim, watching as the idiot realized he was getting closer and attempting to flee.
The protagonist wrenched his head back with a firm grip in his sweaty strands of hair, kicking the back of his knee to bring him down. The vibration of the man’s screams and pleas hummed against his palm as they were muffled.
The target panicked, swiping at the man’s hands and arms with his knife that was practically useless against the angered man. Yoo Joonghyuk caught the flying metal in one of his palms, blood welling and dripping down to the floor.
Stooping low, Joonghyuk’s free fingers closed around a dropped, rusted machete lying near their feet. He raised the heavy blade with one hand, his knuckles turning white, and drove the jagged steel straight downward.
A wet squelch echoed through the corridor as the blade buried itself through the incarnation’s collarbone and deep into his chest cavity, pinning him to the floor like an insect. The man’s breath turned to frothy crimson, his fingers clawing uselessly at Yoo Joonghyuk’s boots as the hallway lights began to fade from his eyes.
He stood there menancingly as he gazed at the bloodshed left behind. Multiple bodies were slumped on top of each other in a large puddle of converged blood. Limbs were astrewn and bloodied hand prints were etched into the walls.
Yoo Joonghyuk silently relished in the silence as the ringing in his ears pettered out. His chest heaved great breaths as he examined the small cuts lining his forearms.
He swiftly veered around to find his companion, ready to take him and escape.
Joonghyuk’s next exhale burned on its way out as he saw a girl claw her way up Kim Dokja’s body, bloodied knife in hand.
۶ৎ
Han Da-Eun clawed at the man’s white coat for leverage, pushing herself up to hover over him. The sweat and blood in her eyes made her teary vision waver, but she wanted to live.
She had watched as the tall guy unrelentlessly pummeled everyone into the afterlife as she lay slumped on the adjacent wall. Even though she had been immobolized at the beginning of the scenario, everyone had skimmed past her to instead kill the ones that were up and fighting.
She took her chance to wait until the man in black killed everyone else, crawling closer and closer to the downed guy with the blurry face as she executed her plan.
Since only two incarnations could survive this scenario and the white guy was basically a living dead-man, all she had to do was strike him somewhere vital as soon as the tall man killed the remaining incarnations and escape.
She brought her knife above her head, reminescent to the first time this guy approached her, and pushed all her weight into it.
…
Crunch.
۶ৎ
Yoo Joonghyuk grabbed her hand, stopping it in its descent into his companion’s heart.
With a snarl he broke her wrist and shoved her sideways, following it up with a hammering of fists. The brass-knuckles dented her skin, breaking bones and flesh as she wailed.
He continued the one-way beat down until he heard the loud, piercing chime of the completion status to stop his battering.
The crimson warning signs flashing on the walls vanish, replaced by pristine, neon-green banners blooming in Joonghyuk’s eyes.
[ Ding! ]
[The Hidden Scenario – 'Traitor's Bounty' has been successfully completed!]
[Checking the final clear parameters...]
[Number of surviving incarnations within the boundary: 2]
[Calculating rewards for the sole survivors...]
[10,000 Coins have been distributed.]
[Scenario rewards '[Elixir of Life (Low-Grade)] x3' and '[High-Grade Ration Box]' have been moved to your Personal Storage.]
[The local Probability barrier is now collapsing.]
[The non-combat transit pathway to the nearest safe sector has been unlocked.]
[Thank you to all the Constellations who tuned in to Channel #BIR-3642. The channel is currently preparing to transition into an ad-break.]
Yoo Joonghyuk let the girl fall from his grasp uncaringly, discarding his bloodied brass-knuckles next to her still body as he scrambled to his partner.
Kim Dokja’s fingers were pale and clammy when he grabbed them, feeling the rapid heart rate thrumming in his blood. He was making these little gasps and whimpers that broke Joonghyuk’s heart, but he didn’t let it show.
His body was a mess of blood and broken limbs, shivering when each little wince sent jolts of pain through his body. His jacket was clawed off his shoulders, showing the extent of the damage to his frail skin.
The bruises were lattered in shades of pink and purple, the ones high up on his sternum already darkening into a mash of black and blue.
“Kim Dokja…” Yoo Joonghyuk sighed, not knowing where to start.
Every inch of his body seemed to bring his prophet pain, there was no careful way to rearrange him on his back to bring him to safety. The building was on its last vestiges of life, teetering as the scenario’s construction withered away.
[ The Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is urging you to do something! ]
The message snapped Yoo Joonghyuk from his grief.
He cradled Kim Dokja’s broken body in his arms, holding him in his solid grip as he rose swiftly from his crouch. The only saving grace was that Kim Dokja seemed to be losing the fight to regain consciousness, but that didn’t stop him from shifting and wriggling as Yoo Joonghyuk ran to the exit.
A door had opened at the end of the corridor when the scenario was completed, the safe route that Biryu, the Dokkaebi, so graciously granted them.
It didn’t stop Yoo Joonghyuk from gritting his teeth, violent images of destroying the Star Stream Headquarters once and for all flashing through his mind. The only person he had deemed worthy as his companion was now taking rasping breaths in his arms, a brutal reminder that he had failed to protect him. Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t know who he loathed more at this point–himself, or the Star Stream for cursing his existence.
He broke out of his stupor as another gasp rang out from the shivering body currently cradled against his chest. Yoo Joonghyuk saw Kim Dokja’s long eyelashes flutter, mapping the frantic, invisible tracking of his eyes underneath.
“I-I.. am Y–”
“Kim Dokja!” Joonghyuk called, fingers tightening their grip from where he held his back and legs close against his frame.
“Joong…hyuk-ah…?”
“We’re almost out of here, hang in there,” Yoo Joonghyuk responded. “Don’t close your eyes again.”
“Don’t… tell me what to do, bastard.” The weak reply came.
The protagonist huffed incrediously at his ability to joke when he looked like this.
He kicked the door down as he finally reached it, stopping as flakes of black paint and rust peeled off under his boots, dropping through the grated floor into the darkness below. Ahead of Yoo Joonghyuk, the building simply ended, replaced by a skeletal cage of rusted iron.
A resounding crack as a fissure in the wall appeared next to them had him rushing onto a narrow landing where an angled staircuse cut a sharp zigzag pattern down the building. The staircase felt small and exposed as Kim Dokja curled up closer against him.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s pounding footsteps echoed around the cramped alleyway as he descended rapidly. He landed on the ground with a thump, heart clenching once more as Kim Dokja let out another agonizing scream at the jolt.
The world beyond the walls of the hotel seemed like an alternative world compared to where they escaped from. The grim reality of ruined roads and shrieking as incarnations fell victim to the monsters prowling left Yoo Joonghyuk breathless with his hopelessness. It was too dangerous to carry Kim Dokja back to the others in the Northern Sector. They’d die from the Sovereign of Eight Legs or the bubbling poison clouds before they could make it.
“Leave me here, I’ll–be fine!” Kim Dokja mumbled, looking over Yoo Joonghyuk’s broad shoulder as their situation became more drastic.
“Shut up, Kim Dokja,” The regressor shot back, shifting his weight as he dug into his [Infinite Dimension Space Coat]. “Drink this.”
He took one of the ‘[Elixir of Life (Low-Grade)]’ vials from his pocket and corked it open with his teeth, bringing it to the thin man’s lips. Kim Dokja’s tightly clenched jaw reluctantly loosened allowing shallow, fitful gasps to catch sharply in his throat.
Yoo Joonghyuk looked into his clouded eyes, watching the tears spring up as he accidentally wrenched his neck too far back. The prophet brought up a trembling hand to steady the bottle and wrapped around Yoo Joonghyuk’s own clenched fist, weakly smiling in guilt.
“Sorry–for being so useless.” Kim Dokja whispered.
His pale, cracked lips slowly withdrew into a frown as Joonghyuk only stared down at him, expression unreadable.
Yoo Joonghyuk was mesmerized as he saw his companion for the first time without the visual distortion warping his face. The pale moonlight highlighted his thin and sharply defined jawline, shadows dancing as Kim Dokja swallowed another whimper. His skin looked smooth, almost porcelain, contrasting sharply with the blood caking his face.
His lips were thin but elegant, his expressions much easier to read. The slender nose bridge was splattered with drops of blood, leading up to his deep, dark eyes. They looked like a bottomless well of ink, a slightly weary depth permitting from them.
His straight, fine black strands of hair were ruffled and sticking to his forehead in a mixture of sweat and blood, still managing to look effortless with the way it framed his face.
“Drink.” Yoo Joonghyuk reiterated, fighting the urge to sweep away the hair in Dokja’s eyes.
[ Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint Stage 2 has been activated. ]
‘So this is what you’ve been hiding from me, Kim Dokja.’
Yoo Joonghyuk’s thoughts broke through the haze of fatigue, making him flounder in surprise. He almost yelped in shock, covering it with a cough as he scrunched his eyes closed and shook away the skill.
‘What is this bastard talking about now?!’
Joonghyuk mistook the movement as Kim Dokja rejecting the potion and forcefully pressed it onto his lips, tilting it back into the parted mouth of his prophet.
Dokja spluttered in shock, trying to swallow the sudden mouthful of sticky golden syrup. His muscles eased into relief as the effects washed over him with a golden light. His throbbing tendons tingled as they slowly knitted back together and his bones popped into place. The sudden alleviation made him gasp in a desperate rattle as the final drops of the potion settled into his veins.
[ You have consumed '[Elixir of Life (Low-Grade)]' x1. ]
[ Active Bleeding has been temporarily slowed, but internal organ damage remains. ]
[ Current HP has only recovered from 5% -> 20%. ]
“A warning would’ve been nice,” Kim Dokja panted, tasting the heavy copper stench of fresh monster ichor on his tongue.
“Hm.” Was all the bastard echoed.
His companion finally looked relaxed in his embrace, head drooping sluggishly onto his chest as he licked the stray beads of syrup glistening on his lips away. While the potion seemed to aid in his recovery, the stab wound on his shoulder was still welling with red. It seems the potion only healed internal and critical injuries, leaving Kim Dokja with the threat of bleeding out from external damage.
With Kim Dokja finally looking stable, Yoo Joonghyuk hardened his expression as he faced his next obstacle.
‘Failure wasn’t an option.’
۶ৎ
The street ahead was unrecognizable. The neat asphalt of Gangnam had been utterly torn apart, replaced by a jagged hole that split down the middle. Deep within the trench, a sickening, low-frequency hum vibrated–the unmistakable sound of the Sovereign of Eight Legs’ digging through the city’s foundations.
Yoo Joonghyuk sprinted along the narrow strip of remaining sidewalk, ducking beneath the dangling, sparking power lines of a collapsed utility pole.
To his left, a familiar corporate coffee shop had been completely destroyed. In its place stood a twisted, ancient stone pillar covered in glowing, alien runes–a piece of another world forcibly dragged into Seoul by the Star Stream’s Probability distortion.
Suddenly, a loud crack echoed from the skies above. Joonghyuk quickly ducked into an awning alleyway, pressing his back flat against the cold concrete wall. He looked up.
A massive, burning meteorite was streaking through the ash clouds, slamming into a skyscraper three blocks away with an explosive roar. The shockwave blew out every remaining window in a two-mile radius, raining razor-sharp glass shards onto the streets.
Yoo Joonghyuk curled protectively around his defenseless cargo and turned his back on the explosion, gritting his teeth as shrapnels of glass embedded itself into his wide shoulders. He ignored the whimper of worry that Kim Dokja let out, eyes darting for an escape route.
Before the debris could even settle, a frantic, red system text flashed directly in front of his eyes.
[ Warning! You have entered a localized danger zone. ]
[ The 'Disaster of Questions' is active within a 500-meter radius. ]
[ Current Environment Status: Absolute Silence is enforced. ]
Yoo Joonghyuk’s heart violently slammed against his ribs. He swiftly crouched down, huddling Kim Dokja impossibly closer.
A block away, through the swirling haze of smoke, a massive, towering silhouette was slowly drifting through the ruins. It floated, surrounded by the decapitated remains of incarnations who dared to speak.
Kim Dokja clamped his mouth shut, holding his breath.
‘Damn it, Myung Ilsang is already roaming this close?’
He cut his eyes toward Joonghyuk. The regressor’s golden [Sage’s Eyes] were active, tracking the eerie silhouette just outside their alcove.
For three agonizing minutes, neither man moved a muscle. The only sound was the distant, erratic crunch of concrete shifting down the block.
Finally, the golden glow in Joonghyuk’s eyes faded. The red system text blinked out, replaced by a standard blue alert.
[ The threat has moved beyond the immediate perimeter. ]
“The local safe zones are compromised.” Joonghyuk muttered, stepping out of the alley. “The minor camps are out of medicine. We need to secure supplies before the next phase hatches.”
“There’s an underground plaza three blocks ahead,” Dokja said, rubbing his aching throat.
‘Accoring to the original novel, there was a major commercial pharmacy chain in the basement levels of that complex.’
With a sharp nod of acknowledgment, they moved fast—Yoo Joonghyuk jumping over crushed cars and navigating around the glowing stone pillars.
They finally reached the building–a partially destroyed shopping center. Ducking under a sagging steel support beam, they descended into the pitch-black basement level. The air here was damp, smelling heavily of mold and old paper.
Most of the storefronts had been completely obliterated and looted by desperate civilians, but Joonghyuk’s eyes locked onto a shattered green sign hanging loosely from its hinges.
[ Gangnam Central Pharmacy ]
The glass storefront was entirely smashed, and the interior was a disaster zone of overturned metal shelves and spilled plastic bottles.
Joonghyuk immediately carried them to the store and stepped into it, glass crunching below his boots. He ventured deeper yet, eventually dropping to one knee behind the ruined counter. He gingerly placed Kim Dokja down, the older man leaning against the wall as his arms that had clinged to his black coat wrapped protectively around his own abdomen.
The protagonist’s large hands ruthlessly sweeping debris aside as Kim Dokja settled, grunting in frustration.
“The high-grade potions are gone,” Joonghyuk growled, tossing aside an empty glass vial.
'I guess he’s really worried about the upcoming Disaster. His desperation is making my insides churn.’ Dokja thought.
“We don’t need magic items right now,” Kim Dokja replied, rummaging through a fallen cabinet from beside him.
His fingers brushed against a thick, sealed plastic wrapper. He pulled it out, a faint smile touching his lips.
“Found them. Traditional gauze, elastic compression bandages, and a couple of unbroken field medical kits.”
He tossed a pack of heavy-duty bandages to Joonghyuk, who caught it effortlessly. They could still patch up basic flesh wounds the old-fashioned way.
“The Flood Disaster is awakening soon. We won’t have time to look for high-grade elixirs when the entire city turns into an ocean.”
Dokja uncurled slowly from his position, thumbing the returned hilt of [Unbroken Faith] to hide his unease at Joonghyuk’s pensive look.
‘Why hasn’t ‘The Fourth Wall’ stabilized yet?’ Another shift. ‘I’m perfectly fine now and very much want to escape from this bastard’s wrathful eyes!’
Joonghyuk shifted his gaze down, ripping a fresh strip of linen with his teeth. His movements were rough, efficient, and entirely devoid of the tenderness standard medical care usually implied.
Across from him, Dokja eyed these movements warily, unwittingly knocking the still-bleeding shoulder against the metal cabinet. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to blink away the lingering haze of subdued pain.
“Stop squirming,” Joonghyuk gritted, pressing an alcohol-soaked cloth directly into the deep laceration on Dokja’s forearm.
The reader choked back a sob, his whole body flinching as his vulnerability heightened without the stable presence of [The Fourth Wall] on his side.
“W-What are you doing–!” He groaned, beginning a one-sided struggle to get away from the burn.
“If you faint on this floor, I’m leaving you here.” Joonghyuk stated. ‘I’m sorry. This is all my fault.’
“It hurts.” Dokja cried out, thumping his head back against the wall.
Every breath he took was a calculated gamble against his hurt ribs. He looked away, his gaze frantic and unable to lock onto any single point in the room. His skin, once flushed from the last dredges of the elixir, now sunk into a deathly pallor–a stark contrast to the angry purple and mottled black bruising already blooming across his collarbone.
“You’re a real humanitarian, Joonghyuk-ah,” Dokja gasped out, a nervous, defensive reflex. He winced immediately as Joonghyuk’s tight grip compressed his bruised muscles even more.
Joonghyuk let out a harsh, humorless bark of a laugh. He took his hand away, only to grasp at the lapels of Dokja’s white coat.
He peeled it off slowly, minding the lacerations that fused blood and fabric together. Kim Dokja cried out again, foot kicking out to push Joonghyuk away. The protagonist only grasped the offending limb, fingers encircling the thin ankle easily and pinning it to the ground.
He took the opening to shift closer to the prophet, bracketed by the long legs as he peeled the last of the coat off his frame.
Joonghyuk stuffed it aside without a hint of care, pressing his knee against the pinned leg to free both his hands.
“You–we’re still being broadcasted to all the Constellations,” Dokja weakly retorted, leg struggling fruitlessly.
He froze as silence greeted him back, the protagonist’s stubborn, unyielding gaze pinning Dokja in place.
Joonghyuk reached out, his calloused thumb abruptly catching Dokja’s chin, forcing the older man to face him. Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes scanned the pale face, tracking the uneven pupils and the slight tremor in his jaw. Satisfied that Sokja wasn’t about to slide into immediate medical shock, Joonghyuk dropped his hand and rummaged through the bloodied supplies.
“Don’t move,” He commanded, his eyes traveling down, tracking the wreckage of Dokja’s torso with a practiced detachment.
Dokja slumped slightly the moment the support on his chin vanished, but the movement was a mistake. A sharp, ragged gasp tore from his throat as the shift pulled at the stab wound in his right shoulder. The flesh there was a mangled, dark red crater, still weeping blood down his chest.
“Stop sagging,” Joonghyuk snapped, though his hand shot out his companion’s uninjured hip before he could collapse forward. “Lean back. Slow breaths.”
Dokja tried to obey, but his body was betraying him. His forearms, resting heavily on his thighs, were a crisscrossed mess of deep, defensive lacerations, the skin parted in lines of red. His collarbone and upper chest, where heavy boots or firsts had repeatedly found their mark, throbbed hotly along with his heart beat.
Kim Dokja let out a weak, pathetic whine, his eyes rolling back under his fluttering lids for a terrifying second before he forced them open.
Joonghyuk clicked his tongue, a sharp irritated sound in the quiet room. He didn’t bother turning Dokja around yet, stubbornly focused on stabilizing the immediate damage right in front of him. His eyes found their mark on the oozing crater in his right shoulder.
He reached for a bottle of strong antiseptic and a clean cloth, quickening his movements before Kim Dokja tried to stop him again. He shoved away the ripped black dress shirt that was obstructing his view, loose threads popping loose from his strong pull.
Dokja didn’t even have time to brace himself. The moment the soaked cloth pressed into the deep stab wound, his head dropped back as a breathless, silent scream caught in his throat.
Joonghyuk didn’t offer a single word of comfort. Instead, his heavy hand clamped down hard on Dokja’s uninjured waist, pinning him firmly against the wall so he couldn't wriggle away from the pain.
"I told you not to move," Joonghyuk growled, his voice a low, gravelly rasp as he worked. His fingers were methodical, entirely focused on wiping the deep stab wound with sterile gauze to halt the incessant weeping. "Die on me now and I'll drag you back just to kill you myself."
Dokja’s fingers clawed blindly at the fabric of the man’s midnight coat. His knuckles were stark white, his entire body rigid as iron. He couldn't draw enough breath to speak; he could only make small, pathetic sounds in the back of his throat.
"Stop looking at it," Joonghyuk ordered, noticing Dokja’s glassy, unfocused gaze drifting down to his own mangled right shoulder.
Joonghyuk grabbed a heavy curved needle, already threaded with thick, black suture lines. Without a hint of hesitation, he pierced the torn edge of the stab wound.
The reader’s eyes rolled up completely, the pupils disappearing beneath his eyelids as his mind desperately tried to check out from the agony. A cold sweat broke out across his pale forehead, mixing with the dark, dried blood smear leaking from his left temple.
"Stay with me, you idiot," Joonghyuk snapped, giving Dokja’s jaw a sharp, stinging slap with his free hand. It was harsh, but it did the trick.
Dokja’s eyes flicked back down, wide, wet with tears, and brimming with pure panic.
"Look at me. Don't you dare faint."
The pale man choked out a sob, his teeth chattering violently from the sudden onslaught of pain. "It... it hurts, Joonghyuk-ah. Please."
"I know it hurts. It’s supposed to," He muttered, his stubborn demeanor never cracking as he pulled the last knot tight, pulling the gaping flesh of the shoulder together.
Joonghyuk didn't waste a second. He moved down to Dokja’s forearms, ignoring the younger man's pathetic, trembling shallow breaths. The lacerations were nasty—deep, ragged fissures where Dokja had tried to shield his face from a blade.
Every time Joonghyuk pulled a thread tight through the flesh of his arm, Dokja’s chest hitched, his ribs protesting the sudden, violent spasms.
He wiped away a fresh track of blood that had dribbled down from Dokja’s left temple, smearing it away with the back of his calloused hand before it could get into his eyes.
"Eyes on me. I said don't look away."
The reader’s head was rolling limply on his neck. His eyelids fluttered erratically, the white of his sclera showing as his eyes rolled upward, desperately seeking the darkness of unconsciousness. He was slipping fast, his skin turning a sickly, translucent grey.
"Dokja." Joonghyuk’s voice cracked through the room like a whip.
He didn't slap him this time, but the sheer, stubborn gravity of his tone forced Kim Dokja’s heavy lids to crack open a sliver.
"I'm... here," He wheezed, his knuckles flexing weakly against his blood-spattered trousers.
"Good. Because the front is done," Joonghyuk said, tying off the final knot on Dokja’s left forearm with a brutal, efficient snap of the thread.
He finally dropped the needle into a tray of antiseptic and leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the older man’s posture. He was heavily leaning to one side, completely unable to support his own weight anymore. Joonghyuk wrapped a thick arm once more around Dokja’s waist, hoisting him just enough to keep him from sliding too far down and risking tearing open the fresh stitches.
With his other hand, he firmly but carefully gripped Dokja’s jaw again, tilting his head back to check his pupils one last time before the next phase.
“Lean into me. Don't drop." Joonghyuk rumbled, his voice dropping into a quieter cadence as he prepared to face the damage hidden behind.
Yoo Joonghyuk braced himself as Dokja completely gave up the fight to stay upright, his forehead slumping heavily against his chest. The older man was a dead weight now, his breath hot and ragged against Joonghyuk’s collarbone.
He didn't push his prophet away. He only secured the man against him so he wouldn't face-plant onto the floor.
With his free hand, Joonghyuk picked up a pair of heavy medical shears. He slipped the blunt edge under the collar of Dokja’s ruined, blood-soaked shirt and cut straight down the spine. The fabric parted with a sharp, wet rip, exposing the injured back to the cool air of the room.
Joonghyuk’s breath caught in his throat—a rare, involuntary fracture in his tough exterior.
Kim Dokja’s back was a disaster zone. The bruises on his front looked less painful than these ones. But worse, much worse, was the high, deep incision slashing across his left shoulder from behind.
The blade had bitten deep, shearing through the muscle tissue. Because Dokja had been sitting upright, the wound had been pooling blood silently, gluing the fabric to his skin. Now that the shirt was gone, a fresh wave of dark, thick blood began to well up, spilling down the pale expanse of his translucent back.
“Dammit, Dokja," Joonghyuk growled, his voice losing a fraction of its irritation, replaced by a grim worriness. "You didn't say they got you from behind, too."
Kim Dokja only offered a weak, thready moan into Joonghyuk’s chest, his fingers weakly twitching against his coat.
Dokja let out a choked gasp, his head lifting barely an inch off the protagonist’s chest, his glassy, unfocused eyes trying desperately to find the devastatingly striking face through the haze. "Joonghyuk-ah–can't... everything's spinning..."
"Focus on my voice," He barked, already reaching for the heavy curved needle and a fresh roll of suture thread. His stubborn gaze never wavered, even as he braced his own body to bear Dokja’s shaking weight.
"I'm going to start stitching. If you need to bite something, bite my shoulder, but don't you dare drop."
Joonghyuk tightened his hold, keeping the barely lucid man steady as he worked quickly to finish the task. The room was heavy with the weight of the moment, the only sound being Dokja’s shallow, ragged breathing. Every second felt like an eternity as Joonghyuk focused on the necessity of the repairs, his jaw set in a hard line.
"Stay with me," Joonghyuk muttered, his voice a much needed anchor.
Dokja’s strength was clearly fading, his movements becoming sluggish and his responses turning into soft, incoherent murmurs. He leaned heavily into Joonghyuk, his consciousness wavering under the strain of the ordeal. The exhaustion was visible in the way his head lolled against Joonghyuk’s shoulder, his grip loosening on Joonghyuk’s coat.
Yoo Joonghyuk didn't let up. He knew the importance of finishing now to prevent further complications. He moved with practiced efficiency, ignoring the exhaustion blooming in his own limbs to ensure the job was done right.
"Nearly there," Joonghyuk grunted, more to himself than to the barely conscious man in his arms. "Just hold on a little longer."
As the final moments of the procedure passed, Dokja’s breathing leveled out into a deep, heavy rhythm, signaling a descent into a much-needed rest. Joonghyuk finally pulled back, assessing his work with a grim nod before preparing for the next step.
۶ৎ
Kim Dokja was finally, mercifully under.
The frantic rolling of his eyes beneath his lids had stopped, replaced by a heavy, unmoving exhaustion. His breathing was still shallow, his chest hitching occasionally when a deep breath agitated his ribs. Joonghyuk knelt directly in front of him, completely boxing Dokja into the corner with his massive frame. He was so close their knees brushed, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the dark, cavernous store.
A dark stoneware jar of thick, pungent arnica rested on the floor between his tensed thighs. Joonghyuk dipped his calloused fingers into the cool green salve, then paused, his hand hovering over Dokja’s chest.
For a bastard who prided himself on feeling absolutely nothing for anyone, his chest felt incredibly tight in the cramped space. His throat burned with an irritation that had nothing to do with the smell of old dust and blood.
‘Stupid, reckless, fragile idiot,’ Joonghyuk thought, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek.
He brought his hand down, flattening his palm against the uninjured skin of Dokja’s collarbone before sliding it downward toward the deep purple bruises wrapping around his ribs. He kept his touch firm, but there was a deliberate, uncharacteristic gentleness to the sweep of his hand that he would rather die than admit to.
Dokja let out a low whimper in his sleep as the pressure glided over a particularly sensitive spot near his sternum. Joonghyuk froze. His hand stayed completely still against Dokja's bare skin, the heat of the older man's feverish body radiating straight into his palm.
He swallowed hard, forcing down a sudden, suffocating wave of panic that had no business being there in the dark. He wasn't supposed to care if the kid whined. "Quiet," Joonghyuk whispered, his voice a steady rumble that barely carried past the quiet darkness.
Dokja didn't wake, but the sound of Joonghyuk’s voice seemed to ease him. His head settled back against the concrete wall, his posture relaxing just a fraction.
Joonghyuk let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He dipped his fingers back into the jar, gathering more ointment, and began working it across Dokja's forearms, carefully maneuvering around the fresh, black tracking of the stitches on his cuts.
In the dim light, the contrast between them was sickening. Dokja looked small, broken, and dangerously pale against the harsh wall, while Joonghyuk’s hands were stained with man’s own blood. He hated how much he hated seeing Dokja like this. It was a liability. Caring meant having something to lose, and Joonghyuk had spent a vast amount of lifetimes making sure he had nothing.
"You're going to be the death of me," Joonghyuk muttered, his thumb tracing the edge of a brutal bruise on Dokja's collarbone.
He smoothed the ointment over the split skin at Dokja's right temple, his touch lingering for just a second too long against the man’s hairline. Realizing what he was doing, Joonghyuk abruptly pulled his hand back.
He wiped his greasy fingers aggressively on a rag, his stubborn facade slamming back into place like an iron shutter. He capped the stoneware jar with a sharp movement that echoed softly in the empty store.
Yoo Joonghyuk wanted to stand up, to walk to the opposite side of the room and keep watch by the door. But as he looked down at Dokja’s shivering, bare shoulders wedged against the cold wall, Joonghyuk clicked his tongue in that familiar, irritated rhythm.
Grabbing his own heavy black jacket from where it hung on his shoulders, he draped it carefully over Dokja's front, tucking the collar right up to the man’s chin to seal out the draft.
Joonghyuk didn't move away. He stayed right where he was, sitting back on his heels on the dirty floor, leaning against the crowded counter–his bulk blocking the cold wind and hiding Dokja from the rest of the world.
He crossed his arms over his chest and watched the steady, quiet rise and fall of Dokja's shoulders.
۶ৎ
A sharp, static hum vibrated directly behind his eyes.
The suffocating, raw weight of the physical room—the sharp stench of rubbing alcohol, the throbbing agony of the fresh stitches in his shoulder, and the overwhelming heat of the man sitting just three feet away—abruptly flattened.
A familiar, cool numbness rolled through his brain like ink soaking into a dry page.
「 Kim Dok ja is a fool. 」
The thick, comforting manuscript brackets manifested in the pitch-black behind his eyelids.
「 The Fourth Wall has re es tab lished synchronization. 」
「 Re-activating psychological dampers. 」
Kim Dokja’s eyes snapped open.
He was lying on his side on top of flattened cardboard boxes behind the ruined counter of the Gangnam pharmacy. The dim, flickering emergency light of the store cast long, distorted shadows across the overturned medicine shelves.
He didn't move. His breath hitched as his mind raced back through the memories of the last few hours. Without [The Fourth Wall’s] protection, he had completely broken down. He had spilled his guts, bled like a normal human, and let his guard drop.
And worst of all—Yoo Joonghyuk had been there to see every single second of it.
Panic, hot and sharp, flared in his chest, instantly fighting against the cold dampening effect of the newly returned skill.
'Damn it. He saw everything. The protagonist saw me like that.'
Deep down, buried beneath layers of reader detachment, a painful, secret truth twisted in his gut.
"You're awake." The deep, gravelly voice cut through the dark.
Yoo Joonghyuk was leaning against the metal counter, sharpening his [Heaven Shaking Sword] with a rhythmic, scraping sound. His massive shoulders were tense beneath his dark shirt.
Kim Dokja swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing his face into his signature, easygoing smirk. Thanks to [The Fourth Wall], the trembling in his hands stopped instantly.
He sat up, deliberately ignoring the sharp tug of the white bandages wrapped tightly around his torso and the black coat that fluttered into a heap of cloth as he shrugged it off.
"Ah, Joonghyuk-ah," Dokja said, his tone perfectly light, breezy, and annoying. "Did you stay up just to watch me sleep? I didn't know the Supreme King was so sentimental."
The scraping sound stopped.
Yoo Joonghyuk turned his head, his dark, piercing eyes locking onto Dokja through the gloom. His golden [Sage's Eyes] weren't active, but his gaze felt heavy enough to pierce straight through the walls.
"Your mental barrier was entirely gone. You looked like an ordinary, fragile incarnation waiting to die."
Dokja’s heart did a violent flip, but he kept the lazy smile plastered on his face, waving a hand dismissively. "A temporary glitch in my Skill, nothing more," Dokja lied smoothly, his internal thoughts screaming as he tried to suppress the heat rising to his face.
‘Don't look at me like that. Please, just look away.'
Out loud, he continued, "You don't need to worry. Besides, a few scratches won't stop me from clearing the next Scenario."
Joonghyuk stood up from his effortless slouch. He didn't look convinced. In fact, the absolute silence radiating from him was terrifying.
He stepped closer, his heavy leather boots crunching on the shattered glass of the pharmacy floor until he was towering directly over Dokja's makeshift bed.
"I don't care about your Skills, Kim Dokja," Joonghyuk muttered, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned down, his shadow completely enveloping the smaller man. "But if you hide things from me again, if you turn into a liability because you refuse to speak..."
He reached out, his large, rough hand suddenly gripping Dokja’s jaw, forcing him to look directly up into his eyes. The physical contact sent a jolt of pure adrenaline straight through Dokja's veins, his secret affection screaming at him to lean into the touch, while his logical brain panicked.
"I will cut you down myself," Joonghyuk whispered.
Yoo Joonghyuk let go as the Constellations broke the silence and demanded their attention through incessant ringing notifications. Under the blinding, unfeeling glare of the system messages, Yoo Joonghyuk’s grip slowly loosened.
He swiftly snatched the black coat from Kim Dokja’s hands, turning away without another glance.
Dokja could only watch, his eyes clouding in raw anguish as he stared at the regressor’s lonely, retreating back trudging toward the exit.
The distance between them felt vast, insurmountable.
Burying the crushing weariness welling up in his chest, Kim Dokja forced his expression back into a cool composure. He leapt up, determinedly pushing back the trauma of whatever had just transpired, and stepped into the dark to follow the world’s only regressor.
‘Thank you, you beautiful bastard.’