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Cale’s eyes flutter open, the rapidly worsening dread and anxiety he feels isn’t wholly assuaged by the presence of the children averaging ten years old’s presences. He quickly focuses on slowing his breathing, forcing himself to take slow and deep breaths despite the fluttering of his chest, hoping that the children won’t wake up during this ordeal.
It was a nightmare. Of course it was, it always was. Every single night when Cale— no, even as Kim Rok Soo— every single night he went to sleep without passing out from injuries or pushing himself too hard, he’d have nightmares. If it weren’t for the worry on everyone’s faces when he wakes up, he’d prefer to pass out instead of dealing with this .
The nightmares were relentless, his record ability and his naturally good memory felt more like a prison when he was dreaming; every single trauma and fear had the potential to come up in his dream. This time was no different.
He felt his skin burning, the heat of the flames sent him into a panic as he heard the wails of his mother, desperately pleading for him to get out of the car. He felt the asphalt mercilessly scrape against his body, unfocused on the pain as he scrambled out from the flipped over car, hissing as he crashed forward onto the broken glass on the ground from the shattered window. He didn’t register the extent of his injuries as he could only focus on the wails of his mother who screamed until the light quickly faded away from her eyes, her body just as limp as his father still trapped inside the car— body so wrecked and foreign that Cale didn’t recognize any part of him.
The world quickly turned to black as he heard the sirens quickly approaching. He had passed out all those years ago— to this day he doesn’t know what he passed out from. Shock? Perhaps the relief that he survived? It was most likely grief— grief for the fact that he survived. He shouldn’t have. He deserved to die there with his parents.
The next time he opened his eyes, Cale was in front of a group of faceless soldiers. There were hundreds, possibly thousands of them.
“You killed us,” one said, their voice distorted and inhuman. Cale isn’t sure how he registered their voice at all.
Another faceless soldier screamed, “it’s all your fault! If you hadn’t come into this world and changed the story, I wouldn’t have died!”
Cale didn’t say anything as the mob began to shout, their sorrows palpable as he felt the deep pang of remorse in his heart. It’s true. He’s a murderer, both as Cale Henituse and Kim Rok Soo, people died all because of him. It was all his fault.
He often thinks of the faceless soldiers who die with each battle, the lives that they lived, the families that may be waiting for them, the futures they could have had if everything was different. He mourns for them. Beneath the mask of indifference he wears, he feels himself shatter time and time again.
The soldiers began running towards him, weapons drawn for those who have them, fists pulled back for those who don’t. They attacked him. Though it was nothing more than a stupid, horrible, no-good dream, he believed the pain was real— he recoiled from the attacks, but made no move to protect himself; he deserved it after all.
Of course, his dream couldn’t go without him seeing Choi Jung Soo’s mangled corpse.
“Being alive is the best,” Choi Jung Soo’s corpse said, his body frighteningly cold, his voice deceptively warm as he repeated Lee Soo Hyuk’s motto, and a lighthearted laugh followed his words. “Being alive is the best, so why did you kill me?”
If Cale hadn’t had this dream so often, he would have thought he misheard Choi Jung Soo— his voice was so happy and his tone was so loving, but his words were so spiteful and biting.
“I’m sorry.”
“Aigoo— Kim Rok Soo,” the mangled man ruffled his own hair in frustration despite the fact that his arm is twisted and his hair is caked with dried blood. He’d probably use two hands to ruffle Cale’s hair afterwards, but the other hand was covered in dried blood which caused it to stick to his sword, the same sword he plunged into the ground to keep his body standing up for just a few seconds longer before he died. “You always say you’re sorry, but you keep selfishly living your life. Don’t you think it’s time to end it?”
Cale, no, Kim Rok Soo said nothing.
“The God of Death would allow you to come back here. You could save us this time.”
“I can’t.”
“Why can’t you? Are Lee Soo Hyuk and I not enough for you?”
“You’re already dead… my Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk are dead.”
The mangled Choi Jung Soo’s angry expression faltered and quickly morphed into a sad and accepting expression as he watched tears begin to fall down Rok Soo’s face.
“Ah, my troublesome little dongsaeng… What will I do with you? Why can’t you just pick us? Who knows what trouble you’ll get into without us watching over you.”
Being called his dongsaeng… He’s missed it. It’s not the same when Alberu says it.
“Who says I’ll get into trouble? And we’re the same age, who are you to call me your dongsaeng?” Kim Rok Soo sniffled as he said so, his tone warmer than it ever was when they were alive. He at least wants to be able to express a fraction of his love and gratitude towards them, even if it’s just through his voice. He had been too late to do so in real life, so in this dream, he just wanted a bit of respite.
Ah, this bittersweet part of the dream— one where Choi Jung Soo seemed like himself again. It’s so— Rok Soo doesn’t know how to describe it— it’s so mind-boggling, frustrating even. It would be so much easier to not be hurt by this dream if Choi Jung Soo was angry at him the whole time. It would make the dream feel more like a dream and less like… this .
“I was born earlier in the morning!” Choi Jung Soo let out a huff when he saw
“But we were born on the same day anyways, a few hours doesn’t matter much.”
There was a pause.
“Well, if you love them enough to cry over them, I can’t hold you back.”
It was a nightmare, Cale is sure of that, but the end felt sweet. Morbid and horrible to see his friend’s corpse talking, but sweet in comparison to everything else.
He misses them.
Thank whatever gods were out there that Lee Soo Hyuk wasn’t the one talking to him in his dream this time. It would’ve wrecked Cale for days– he was already tired and stressed with everything going on, to see Lee Soo Hyuk’s corpse talking to him would’ve distracted him for days on end; despite how many times he’s had that variation of the nightmare he could never get used to it, he would never get used to it. The day he got used to it was the day he no longer felt any guilt for the deaths of his friends– that day would obviously never come. Despite him and Lee Soo Hyuk talking about how it was fate’s fault, that it was the monster’s fault for appearing there, deep down Kim Rok Soo felt it was still his fault.
Maybe if he just studied the monster patterns a bit harder, if he recognized the changes in his surroundings, noticed that they met less monsters than usual on their way there he could’ve changed things. Maybe then he wouldn’t be haunted by the color of the vivid reds and heart-wrenching black ashes he saw that day.
The rapid rise and fall of his chest, the too-loud beating of his heart in his chest, the cold he feels despite the warmth of the small bodies next to him— it’s all a painful reminder that this is his world now.
Well, maybe painful isn’t the word to describe it since he’s happy here, but he knows he’ll never see his other friends again. He had never truly had the time to grieve over their deaths since he immediately took over the role of Lee Soo Hyuk, he was put in charge of other people’s lives despite the fact he led his friends to their deaths just days prior.
“Human?” Raon’s groggy whisper from on his chest makes Cale flinch for a second.
“Sorry Raon. Did I wake you?” Despite Cale doing breathing exercises to calm himself earlier, his onslaught of thoughts caused him to panic once more. Cale’s chest rapidly rising and his body shaking must’ve jostled Raon awake.
“S’okay,” Raon yawns. “You’re shaking human, are you okay? Do I need to get Mister Ron?”
“I’m okay,” he lies. “There’s no need to get Ron in the middle of the night,” Cale exhales a bit shakily, forcing out a laugh as he uses his clammy hand to pet the back of Raon, coaxing him back to sleep.
Raon seems a bit hesitant to go back to sleep, sensing that something was a bit wrong with his human. Raon, though innocent (for the most part), knows what fear looks like on someone. Cale’s expression right now was similar to the one he wore when he talked about the note from the God of Death.
Cale notices Raon’s gaze on him and closes his eyes, hoping to get rid of the child’s worries.
Cale is okay. Well, he’s not, but he has no choice but to be. The moment he admits he’s not okay is the day everything he’s bottled up will gush out of him— all the trauma, all the guilt, all his fears, the acknowledgment of how large a role he’s played in all this, recognizing all the people who died because of his actions— whether he was against them or they fought on his side. The moment he wasn’t okay was when he’d fall apart.
So yes, Cale would be okay. He’d be okay until the next time his nightmares struck, when the brief moments afterwards would wrack him with soul-shattering guilt.