Chapter Text
Kim Dokja doesn’t bother with dinner, stomach twisting at the idea of Hyuk-ie being captured by the pound or being hit by a car. He soothes himself with the reminder that Hyuk-ie had survived for a long time without his intervention, but the worry persists like a plague.
When the night air becomes intolerable, Kim Dokja shuffles back inside. Without bothering to change into pajamas or brush his teeth, he crawls into bed and watches the darkness shift to the odd blue of a morning. Infantile sunlight slides between the blinds, plastering itself to the walls of his room.
He ignores his alarm clock when it rings, preferring to ruminate, but when it goes off for the third time, he shoves away the impossibly heavy covers and gets out of bed. He slides on his shoes and places a gnawed-on squid plush on his doorstep before leaving.
Maybe the familiar scent will coax Hyuk-ie to return.
The roar of the train and buzzing of conversations are muted and tinged with gray. The brisk morning air is an enemy, picking at his exposed skin as if to criticize him. His mind is stormy as he dissects the incident and the ensuing conversation.
What could he have said? What could he have not said?
He keeps his face impassive as he steps in the office but Yoo Sangah notices something off immediately. Maybe it's from the darker-than-usual eyebags mutilating his face. Maybe it’s because his hair is messy and he’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday.
“Dokja-ssi, are you okay? You don’t look well.”
Kim Dokja’s voice is strained. “Hyuk-ie ran away.”
Yoo Sangah covers her mouth with a hand as she gasps. “Oh, I’m so sorry… Have you checked the pound? Or put up missing flyers?”
“I’ll do that after work. I didn’t have time in the morning.”
“Can I go with you?” Yoo Sangah asks. “Maybe I can help.”
“You don’t have to,” Kim Dokja replies.
“I want to,” Yoo Sangah says, brows furrowing with determination.
Warmth swells in Kim Dokja’s chest alongside sour shame. He shouldn’t need help, but unlike him, Yoo Sangah is competent. If anyone can help him find Hyuk-ie, it’s her.
“Thank you,” Kim Dokja says in spite of the weight in his throat. He tries to swallow it down, but it doesn’t budge.
“Anytime. We’re friends, of course I’ll help you.”
Kim Dokja nods stiffly.
They settle into work. Like a robot, Kim Dokja types at his keyboard, filling out everything that Han Myungoh had placed on his desk due to jealous spite.
The papers disappear rapidly and when he runs out of work, Kim Dokja stares blankly at his computer screen until Han Myungoh, catching Yoo Sangah looking at him in concern, slaps more papers on his desk.
Kim Dokja’s eyes sting from a lack of sleep. If he were a less emotionally repressed man, they would sting from tears.
Will this be the last time he sees Hyuk-ie? As a naked man in his apartment? As a stupidly loyal dog following at his heels to go to the grocery store?
Yoo Sangah carefully places a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find him.”
“I hope so,” he murmurs. He grinds the heels of his palms against his eyes and forces himself awake.
When lunchtime rolls around, Yoo Sangah coaxes him into going outside with her. They sit on a bench together and watch the passing crowds. She insists he eats half of her lunch. Kim Dokja refuses despite the cramp in his abdomen, but she doesn’t relent until Kim Dokja buys a quick meal from the convenience store.
He devours it, his hunger roaring at its first morsel of food since yesterday’s breakfast. Cheap and familiar and ashen against his tongue.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a black dog wagging its tail with its tongue lolled out of its mouth, but when Kim Dokja looks up, the dog is gone. Kim Dokja’s shoulders slump.
He and Yoo Sangah return to Minosoft together and absorb themselves into work. It flies at a grueling pace, but for once, Kim Dokja appreciates the monotony of the task. Look at files, type, repeat.
Eventually, they’re released.
Yoo Sangah accompanies him to the pound. There is no sight of Hyuk-ie, but Kim Dokja can see Yoo Sangah’s heart melt out of her chest for all the lonely animals that seek a forever home.
The print shop is next. Kim Dokja scrolls through his phone for appropriate photos. His chest aches at the sight of Hyuk-ie doing miscellaneous tasks like playing with its chew toy, sniffing a stray tree, or laying down on the couch belly up.
“I think this picture is best,” Yoo Sangah says.
In the photo the two of them are looking at, Hyuk-ie is standing tall, staring intently at a tree because it had heard a critter. Its entire body is visible and its tail is high in the air, curled like a gnarled branch.
Kim Dokja nods. He swipes to another photo. “This one shows his face really well,” he sighs. “I should have put a collar with a tag on him.”
She carefully places a hand on Kim Dokja’s shoulder and squeezes it briefly. “What’s done is done. All we can do is move forward and not repeat our past mistakes,” Yoo Sangah says softly.
“That’s true,” Kim Dokja says. The warmth of her gentle touch stings even as her arm drops back to her side.
He’s made a lot of mistakes but losing Hyuk-ie may be the largest one yet.
The employee helps them craft a missing poster. Missing pets are common, after all.
“I recommend setting a reward as incentive,” the employee tells them as she arranges the missing poster, slotting the images against each other elegantly and selecting a font that’s easy on the eyes.
Kim Dokja cracks open his wallet. He fishes for won, but there’s nothing there. Rent is already making a dent in his miniscule wallet. He can’t afford much else if he wants to cover the cost of more than a few posters, even if he skips more meals than he does already.
“Fifty copies of these, please,” Yoo Sangah tells the employee. She rummages for her purse, locates her wallet, and hands over a debit card.
Kim Dokja shakes his head as the employee swipes the card and returns it to Yoo Sangah.
The employee finishes creating the missing poster. The duo print out several, buy a roll of tape, and return to Kim Dokja’s neighborhood.
They plaster posters on all available surfaces. Lamp posts, trees, fences—every surface under the sun has a picture of Hyuk-ie with Kim Dokja’s contact information on it.
Eventually dusk settles, wrapping the world in its dark haze.
Kim Dokja checks his phone for the time. It’s late. “Let me walk you back to the train station. I’m sorry for making you stay here with me all this time. This area is especially dangerous at night.”
“Oh, thank you, Dokja-ssi, but you don’t have to. I can take care of myself.”
A smile curves Yoo Sangah’s face, but Kim Dokja is insistent.
“I know, but let me repay you for your help today,
For all his mother's flaws, she had nevertheless instilled him with some sense of right and wrong.
“I appreciate it then.”
Conversation is small as they walk to the train station. Yoo Sangah is learning Spanish in her free time and the only reason she’s been taking the train lately is because her bicycle was stolen.
Kim Dokja, meanwhile, reads webnovels out of routine rather than joy, and is mourning his missing pet.
But in spite of it, life goes on.