Chapter Text
The long, lonely moments spent inside the subway car in the middle of deep space had taught Dokja to cherish the oblivion of sleep even more than she had during her days as an office worker, or even amidst the scenarios of the apocalypse. Sometimes she dreamed of moments with her companions, sometimes of the horrors of her childhood, but more often than not, all that awaited her behind closed eyelids was an endless darkness. The emptiness of her dreams differed from her reality only in that the cold light of distant stars was nowhere to be seen.
She had learned to force her consciousness to cling to the remnants of sleep with all her might. It served as her only respite between the never-ending surveillance of countless world lines. She would wake up gradually, attempting to come to terms with her predicament each time. She did not regret what she had done, nor did she believe she had made the wrong choice, but…
But now, instead of the familiar chill of the train, the uncomfortable seats, and the quiet humming of the Fourth Wall in her mind, Dokja felt warmth and softness enveloping her entire body. Her frame still ached—a sensation lingering in the back of her mind—but what stood out the most was the feeling of a rough, calloused hand holding her own with such profound gentleness.
She did not want to wake up from this dream.
But she was no longer in that subway car, was she? Her brain always started working far too quickly, even after a complete loss of consciousness. She remembered sitting and watching one of the countless world lines while the Fourth Wall dozed within the depths of her mind, until…
A knock resounded. In the middle of deep space, where there was nothing for hundreds of light-years in any direction, a distinct knock came from the outside of the train window. For a split second, Dokja felt like the protagonist of a horror novel, until she looked around and spotted a figure in a white spacesuit. A figure with a face she felt she had observed for hundreds of years in that car, and a voice she could never forget. Though now, it somehow sounded simultaneously desperate, relieved, and gentle—in a way she had never heard from him before.
"Found you…"
She blamed her subsequent loss of consciousness on the sleeping Fourth Wall, and on a profound, overwhelming sense of bewilderment and terror.
Now she understood the source of this warmth, but… why did she also feel someone pressing their cheek against her hand? The softness of skin mingled with the faint, prickly sensation of stubble. Light filtered through her closed eyelids, and the scent of flowers hung in the air, a stark contrast to the harsh, familiar smell of antiseptic she usually associated with waking up in hospitals.
"Have I not waited long enough for you, my star?"
Dokja knew this man. Even through the years of absolute loneliness, she had always known him. One thousand eight hundred and sixty-four regressions, hundreds of years of his life, and the story of a single man isolated in his grief. No, not isolated. Because she had always watched him, observed him, and loved him. Her companion, her incarnation, and her most beloved story.
"Yoo Joonghyuk…"
Her mind was racing far ahead of her body; she was still unable to move her limbs or open her eyes, but her hearing was all she needed to recognize him. What kind of reader would she be if she couldn't even do that?
She felt the lips against her palm curve into a smile. Since when did Yoo Joonghyuk smile whenever Dokja called him by his name? Usually, he would only get annoyed upon hearing it. Had she truly missed that much while she was the Most Ancient Dream? What on earth had happened during all this time?
The familiar humming of the Fourth Wall in Dokja's mind interrupted her train of thought. She didn't even need her sight to know that a familiar notification was hovering right in front of her face, announcing that the Fourth Wall was mitigating her pain. She let out a sigh of relief as her body finally felt lighter, and she was at last able to flutter her eyes open.
Though that proved not to be one of Dokja’s finest decisions, as she was immediately forced to squeeze her eyes shut again. (The Fourth Wall whispered to her that all of her ideas were terrible. Dokja promptly ignored it, considering her plans to be perfectly reasonable, thank you very much.) It seemed she had once again "lucked out" by waking up in the middle of the day. Now it made sense why Joonghyuk was here. Actually, scratch that—nothing was making any sense.
Yoo Joonghyuk let out a soft huff and laughed.
…Huh?
Dokja felt her brain short-circuit for a solid minute from sheer shock. The last time she had heard this man laugh was…
She had to forcibly cut off her own thoughts. It seemed the Fourth Wall had no intention of helping her shut out the world any longer. From here on out, she would have to face reality head-on.
She felt her hand being gently lowered onto the soft blanket as Joonghyuk rose from the chair he had presumably been sitting on. Dokja heard him take a few long strides somewhere to her right, and… the room grew darker.
She finally opened her eyes and scanned the room through a squint. Yoo Joonghyuk was standing by the window, carefully drawing the curtains so that the harsh beams of light wouldn't pierce her eyes. He looked strikingly domestic in a plain black turtleneck and sweatpants. For the first time since the 0th regression, Dokja was seeing Joonghyuk in something other than his usual battle gear—the attire she had watched him wear throughout one thousand eight hundred and sixty-four regressions. And he was even wearing… house slippers? The more she observed, the more questions began to pile up in her mind.
The floral scent she had noticed earlier originated from the countless bouquets crowding what seemed to be every single available surface in the room. They came in all kinds of varieties and colors, causing her brain to tangle itself in the meanings of floriography. On the nightstand right beside her bed stood a vase filled with an elegant arrangement of white chrysanthemums.
Dokja offered a faint smile.
"Joonghyuk-ah, I feel like I've just woken up inside a flower shop."
Yoo Joonghyuk walked over to her bed and leaned down, looming over her. Dokja squinted, bracing herself for… something. Instead, she only felt two fingers gently pinching her nose shut. Staring at her companion in sheer bewilderment, she tried to wriggle out of his grip, turning her head to the side. Joonghyuk merely let out a soft smile at her futile attempts.
Dokja felt her heart rate skyrocket at the sight of it. Why was Yoo Joonghyuk smiling at her with such profound tenderness? Shouldn't he be furious? She had forced him to endure so much suffering, and yet here he was…
"Stop thinking so much, you fool. I can practically hear the gears grinding in your head as they struggle to turn," he released her nose and sat down beside her right on the edge of the bed, seemingly forgetting about the nearby chair. A scarred hand gently brushed away a stray lock of hair that had fallen over her face, and Joonghyuk let his palm linger against her cheek. "That stupid skill finally stopped blurring your face."
"Don't call the Fourth Wall stupid; it'll get offended, and I'll have to suffer through the body aches all over again. You wouldn't want your most beloved companion to be in pain, now would you, Joonghyuk-ah?"
"Of course not," he replied instantly. With every subsequent word and action from this man, Dokja began to wonder more and more whether she had truly woken up, or if this was all merely a sick hallucination born of her absolute loneliness. "I searched for you across the entire universe, Dokja-ya. Wishing pain upon you now is simply counterproductive. There is no need to look so shocked."
Dokja let out a breath, a suppressed laugh trembling on her lips. She raised her hand despite the noticeable tremor in her fingers, placing it against the back of Joonghyuk's head and running her fingers through his soft hair. She pulled his head closer to her, as much as her weakened body would allow.
"Be honest with me—while I was gone, did you hit your head somewhere and decide to keep it a secret from everyone? Are you feeling alright, Yoo Joonghyuk?"
The man braced his palm on the mattress right beside Dokja's head and leaned in closer. A mere few miserable centimeters remained between their faces. Dokja felt a burning flush instantly cascade over her face, pooling down toward her chest beneath the hospital shirt.
"I am perfectly fine now. Dokja-ya."
And he smiled. Not a minuscule smile, not just a faint twitch of the corner of his lips, but a grin so wide that Dokja could see the even row of his upper teeth. Dokja felt a sudden heaviness settle over her chest; she wanted to cry just looking at that smile. She didn't deserve it. Why was he looking at her as if she were the only thing he had ever yearned for and wanted? This definitely couldn't be good for her heart.
Ignoring the tears welling up in her eyes, Dokja gazed intensely at her incarnation. For the first time in hundreds of years, she was seeing him alive, in the flesh, and so incredibly close. Seeing him like this in reality was entirely different from watching him through a screen. To anyone else, it might have seemed as though he hadn't changed a bit since their last encounter, but Dokja knew him better than anyone.
She caught the most minute shifts. The uncharacteristic relaxation of his shoulders. The slight redness at the corners of his eyes. The faint tremble of his smile. And…
"My god, Joonghyuk-ah…" Dokja let out a soft gasp, shifting her hand higher to play with the unruly curls framing his forehead. She let out a gentle laugh. "You have silver hair. I never thought I'd see it on you again, not since the moments right before your regressions. Has it really been that long, or is this… because of me?"
Joonghyuk wasn't entirely white-haired, not like back then when he had accepted the stigma of regression from her. Instead, his hair now looked rather like… a starry night sky. Pitch black like the void, yet dappled with flashes of silver-white light. It was noticeable only if one leaned in close. Very few people were ever permitted such proximity. Dokja couldn't help but think that on him, it looked… breathtakingly attractive.
She had to nervously swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.
Perhaps deciding that lounging like that wasn't particularly comfortable, or maybe simply giving himself time to assemble his thoughts, Joonghyuk kicked his slippers onto the floor and lay down on the bed, facing Dokja. It was a bit cramped, yet somehow profoundly cozy. 'I must be losing my mind,' Dokja thought.
"Probably a bit of both. At the very least, I had plenty of time to ponder it. If you are blaming yourself…" Yoo Joonghyuk hesitated(?!). It seemed that even someone like him was prone to such moments. "No, you are definitely blaming yourself. Listen closely, because I am only going to say this once."
Involuntarily, Dokja’s entire body tensed up. She wasn't afraid of Joonghyuk; rather, she was terrified of his words. She could no longer shield herself with the comforting thought that none of this was real. Because now, she knew for a fact that this was reality. There was no longer a novel she could consult. From now on, she would have to listen to the words of her protagonist live, instead of reading them on a wall.
She tried to shift her body to turn onto her side, wishing to face Joonghyuk, but the remnants of the comatose numbness still held her limbs captive. Suddenly, she felt his hands gently helping her turn over, and Joonghyuk readjusted his position so they were both comfortable, staring directly into each other's eyes.
When he finally spoke again, his voice had dropped to a soft whisper, making it feel as though they were suspended somewhere beyond the edge of the universe, where only the two of them existed.
"I do not blame you for a single one of my regressions. Nor do I blame you for granting me that stigma. I asked for it myself, and it was what I wanted. I wanted to learn more about my existence and about this world. I hoped I would be able to figure it out, and that you would continue to exist somewhere beyond the boundaries I would eventually break. You knew everything about me, yet I knew nothing. And I still want to learn. If you will allow me, my star."
Dokja closed her eyes, feeling hot tears trace down her face. It was simply too much to bear.
"Since when can you talk for so long without stopping, Joonghyuk-ah? Where were you hiding this talent?"
She let out a breathless laugh in an attempt to diffuse the heavy atmosphere, but Joonghyuk only continued to look at her with that intensely tender, serious gaze. He let out a soft sigh, leaned in, and… left a soft, weightless press of his lips against her forehead.
"Just know this. You don't have to answer me right now. It seems your brain hasn't fully recovered its functions yet."
The mask Dokja had been desperately trying to pull back over her face shattered into pieces. Tears began to stream uncontrollably from her eyes. She had never believed she would one day be able to forgive herself for the fate she had forced Yoo Joonghyuk to endure. But to hear that he forgave her, that he didn't hold her guilty…
"That's cruel…" she whispered.
"Yeah, well. Your love is even crueler."
Joonghyuk pulled her into a tight embrace. Dokja could feel the warmth of his body seeping into her frozen, weary heart. Once again, she felt that she was not alone—just like that day in her youth when she had first discovered Ways of Survival. They had both been solitary existences. Though now, perhaps, they could no longer be called that. Not when they finally had each other. And not when they had a family waiting for them. Dokja sincerely hoped they were all doing alright.
Incapable of thinking straight or worrying about anything else, Dokja simply placed her palms against Joonghyuk's cheeks and pressed her lips against his. She couldn't see his reaction through her closed eyes, but he only held her tighter in his arms instead of pushing her away, so she counted it as an absolute victory.
The kiss, much like the previous touch, ended quickly, leaving Dokja feeling slightly lightheaded. Without a doubt, this was the most eventful awakening she had experienced since the Disaster of Floods.
"How…"
Her words were abruptly cut short by the sharp sound of the door swinging open.
"Joonghyuk-ssi, you really should be—"
Lee Seolhwa froze, her hand still resting on the doorknob as she stared in sheer disbelief at Dokja—her patient who, a mere half hour ago, had been in a deep coma. As it turned out, thirty minutes was more than enough time for… well, for everything that had transpired to land them in their current predicament. Specifically, wrapped in each other's arms, with tears smeared all over Dokja's face.
Now, Dokja felt incredibly awkward. Visualizing how this entire scene must look from the doctor's perspective, she wished nothing more than for the ground to swallow her whole.
The doctor stoically evaluated them, and with a swift, rhythmic clicking of her heels, marched over to the side of the bed where Joonghyuk lay. She stopped, placing her hands firmly on her hips, and spoke with an eerily calm smile.
"Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi," her voice was flat, almost entirely devoid of life. "You failed to notify me that my patient had awakened. Furthermore, I suspect you have driven her to tears and are currently crowding her bed, even though she is incredibly fragile right now. Her Stories are still recovering; are you actively trying to cause her harm?"
It was… genuinely terrifying. Even though the chilling aura wasn't directed at her, Dokja felt goosebumps break out across her skin, barely suppressing a shiver.
Joonghyuk didn't fare much better. His usually stern expression remained unchanged, but Dokja caught the subtle, telltale signs of his profound discomfort. Though he seemed far more resilient against mental attacks these days, if he were a wolf, his ears would currently be pinned flat against his skull. It was hilarious to picture Joonghyuk with wolf ears, but under Seolhwa's heavy gaze, laughing was the last thing she wanted to do.
"She only just woke up…”
"Which is precisely why you should have fetched me immediately, rather than attempting to suffocate my patient."
Lee Seolhwa actually cut him off! Dokja could hardly believe her eyes as she witnessed the argument.
"I wasn't suffocating her. It's called a hug."
"And since when do you know what a hug is, Joonghyuk-ssi? It is time for you to go home; your sister is waiting for you."
Yoo Joonghyuk looked as though he was ready to dig his heels in and argue. He parted his lips to retort, but was abruptly cut short when the doctor firmly grasped his forearm and yanked him away from Dokja. Dokja hadn't realized Seolhwa possessed such formidable physical strength within her graceful frame. Then again, it made sense; she was a combat medic, after all.
Realizing that resistance was futile, Joonghyuk cast a longing, deeply lingering gaze at Dokja, then leaned down to gently press his forehead against hers.
"I will return tomorrow. Don't disappear on me again. I will find you, no matter where you run."
In the past, that would have sounded like a ominous threat, but now, to Dokja, it felt oddly… romantic. Perhaps the countless years spent in that subway car in deep space had warped her brain.
Shooting the doctor a final, displeased glare, Yoo Joonghyuk rose and, practically dragging his feet, shuffled out of the room.
The door clicked shut. Only the two of them remained.
Lee Seolhwa let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through her hair, as if that brief debate had thoroughly exhausted her. As far as Dokja could tell through the film of tears in her eyes, the doctor hadn't changed much since their last meeting either. The same silver hair gathered in a loose bun, wire-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, and her ubiquitous white coat. The only new additions were the absence of her usual red lipstick and the faint, dark circles lingering beneath her eyes. 'She needs more sleep,' Dokja wanted to say, though coming from her, it would sound hopelessly hypocritical.
The doctor pulled a few dry tissues from the box on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed, gently dabbing away the tears from Dokja's face. For the second time today, Dokja found herself wondering if the chair beside her bed was purely decorative. She reached out to take the tissues and tidy herself up, but Seolhwa merely brushed her hand aside, softly intertwining their fingers instead.
"How are you feeling? Emotional turmoil is hardly what you need right after waking up. Besides, Joonghyuk-ssi could have accidentally injured you. Next time, don't let him crowd you on the bed."
Without breaking eye contact with Dokja, she set the used tissues aside.
"I'm fine, really. He didn't hurt me. I'm just so happy to see you again, Seolhwa-ssi."
Dokja offered a genuine smile, pushing aside her lingering embarrassment. It seemed Joonghyuk and Seolhwa had never rekindled their romance. Then again, Dokja certainly wouldn't press the issue now. She had more than enough to handle with the current dynamic between the three of them.
What had even become of her life? Honestly, things had probably gone off the rails from the moment she was born. Oh well, nothing she could do about it now.
"The feeling is mutual, Dokja-ssi. Though I doubt you have the energy for a full examination or my questions right now. From what I can observe, your condition is stable. Feeling the itch to run away yet? I'd really rather not have to administer a sedative so soon after your return."
Lee Seolhwa let out a soft chuckle at her own joke as she stood up, but for some reason, Dokja didn't find it funny in the slightest. Ways of Survival had never documented this woman's dark sense of humor. Then again, Ways of Survival failed to document a lot of things Dokja had experienced firsthand, so she would just have to make peace with it.
"Umm… No, I'm pretty sure I couldn't even manage two steps right now. But… what are you doing, Seolhwa-ssi?"
Dokja watched in sheer bewilderment as the doctor removed her glasses and white coat, neatly draping them over the chair. She slid the hair tie off, letting her hair cascade over her shoulders like a silver waterfall. Finally, Seolhwa kicked off her high heels and climbed back onto the mattress.
"I am going to personally ensure that Dokja-ssi doesn't escape. I hope you understand why I don't trust your word. No offense, Dokja-ssi, but your promises aren't worth thirty pieces of silver.”
She had to replay what Seolhwa had just said in her head several times. If Uriel had heard this… No, that wasn't the main point right now. Dokja readily admitted that she often withheld the full truth or spoke in half-truths, but to this extent?!
The mattress dipped for the second time today, only this time, Seolhwa took Joonghyuk’s place.
"Dokja-ssi needs to rest now. Now that you're awake, you're unlikely to fall back asleep for long on your own anyway. Later, Joonghyuk-ssi will most likely bring you a phone so you won't get bored lying here and succumb to the temptation to run away. Sooyoung-ssi mentioned that you promised to read the novels she would write. I believe she already has something prepared for you."
The sheer delight of being able to read novels again completely drowned out the residual awkwardness of feeling a warm female body pressed against hers.
(She had read Yoo Joonghyuk's story this entire time. She loved his story, but… she couldn't endure it any longer. Besides, her own Yoo Joonghyuk would hardly appreciate it if she kept re-reading Ways of Survival endlessly.)
Thinking of Joonghyuk and Sooyoung, her thoughts naturally drifted toward the other members of her company. If something had happened to them, Joonghyuk and Seolhwa wouldn't be acting this calm. But would they even want to see her after everything she had done?
Once again, Dokja felt a painful pang tighten around her heart.
"Seolhwa-ssi… How are the children?"
Lee Seolhwa let out a quiet sigh and pulled her patient into a firm, protective embrace. The guilt currently consuming Dokja was entirely expected, but that didn't make it any easier to watch. Mentally, the doctor made a note to request a therapist for the room later on.
"You can ask them yourself. Tomorrow is their turn to visit you. I doubt Joonghyuk-ssi will want to share the news of your awakening with anyone just yet, so you will get to surprise them. I should probably fetch a second box of tissues."
Seolhwa's voice vibrated pleasantly against Dokja's cheek as she pressed close to her chest.
"Their turn?"
"Yes, we have a strict schedule for who visits you and when. If I allowed everyone who wanted to see you in all at once, their shouting would have dragged you straight out of your coma. Besides, they wouldn't all fit in the room anyway. So we made a calendar. The initial draft for the visiting dates was a bloodbath. I actually have a video; I'll show you later. Everyone wanted to be by your side when you opened your eyes. Naturally, I hold a special privilege as your attending physician."
Seolhwa sounded so overtly proud of this fact that Dokja snorted out a laugh, picturing the chaotic battle.
"Were they… Were you all truly waiting this eagerly for me to wake up?"
Dokja couldn't entirely mask the faint trace of doubt in her voice. She genuinely couldn't fathom why anyone would hold such deep feelings for her. She pushed herself back slightly from the doctor to look her in the eyes. Seolhwa merely gazed back with soft, melancholy tenderness and a faint smile.
"We were all waiting for the moment Dokja-ssi returned to us. We simply cannot move forward without you. We love you."
Tears clouded her vision once more, but she couldn't detect a single hint of falsehood in Seolhwa's words. Dokja would probably never fully understand why they loved her so much. If not for her…
Seolhwa gently wiped a stray tear from the reader's cheek, pulled her close again, and left an featherlight, ephemeral kiss on the corner of her lips. Thankfully, she was no longer wearing lipstick.
"You should sleep now. We can continue this conversation once you've had a proper rest."
Gently pressing Dokja's face back against her soft chest, Seolhwa pulled the blanket up to cover her shoulders completely. Dokja didn't have the strength or desire to object. She doubted she could utter anything coherent right now anyway.
Now, she finally possessed a "tomorrow"—one where she would no longer be alone. She would have to do a lot of talking, but… she was no longer isolated.
As for the question of "Do I even deserve this?"—she decided to leave it for later.