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The four-in-the-morning darkness was bright with the glow of constellations. Of course, the stars never set these days, so some would say four-in-the-morning darkness was the same as three-in-the-afternoon darkness. Han Sooyoung swore there was a difference, though. Anyway, the starlight shone through the windows as Han Sooyoung crept up on Yoo Joonghyuk with sock-feet, silently praising herself for her stealth.
Then, she stubbed her toe loudly on the shoe rack and, well…
She found herself pinned up against the wall, the Splitting the Sky Sword leveled at her throat.
“Why are you following me?” The way he had locked her in place, one hand under her arm to press her shoulder to the wall, left them chest-to-chest. This allowed the rumble of his question to reverberate through her body.
“You’re sneaking out of the house fuck-off early in the morning, of course I’m following you. Where are you going?” Kim Dokja had charged her with keeping everyone together—if she couldn’t do that, she could at least know where Yoo Joonghyuk was going.
“Out.” He let her drop lightly to her feet, sheathed his sword, knelt down to put on his boots. “You can tell the rest of them I’ll be back in three days.”
“For the tenth scenario? Or for your personal ones?”
He ignored her and kept lacing up his boots. Luckily, they were the chuuni type of boots that took a long time to lace.
“You don’t even have a scenario to do right now. No one does! Personal ones aren’t open yet and the fucking dokkaebis sure aren’t around.”
He didn’t answer, and instead threw back at her, “Why are you up?”
Damn.
“I’m suddenly not allowed to take a stroll around our collective house anytime I like?”
“You usually sleep like a corpse.”
“Stop watching me while I sleep, pervert.”
That managed to shut him up for a bit while his face decided which glower to make. Not long enough, though. He rose from a crouch to his six-foot-something height and turned to her to ask, “Is this about Kim Dokja?”
She squinted at him. Who would’ve thought, a protagonist with brains. Pigs will fly, next.
“Since when is it not about him?”
It hadn’t been a week since Kim Dokja died. Jung Heewon laid in bed half the day. Lee Hyunsung had himself instantly redeployed on relief efforts. Lee Gilyoung cried, which made Shin Yoosung cry, which made Lee Gilyoung cry more. Lee Jihye lost her temper at anyone unfortunate enough to be in her vicinity. Yoo Sangah was constantly out of the house, probably haunting the Minosoft high-rise downtown. And yes, Han Sooyoung couldn’t sleep.
“Drink some tea and go to bed.”
“Oh, that’ll solve it, won’t it? Drink some tea and try to forget how some noble idiot duped me into killing him permanently while irreparably scarring all of his friends.”
“...”
“None of them trust me. Not a single one. Because I attacked first.”
“...”
Han Sooyoung grabbed him by the bicep, as if to shake him. His powerful muscles were solid underneath her palm, and they did not move an inch. “He asked me to kill him, Yoo Joonghyuk.” In her ears, her voice sounded ragged and pained. “And he knew I would do it, too.”
With her free hand, she angrily scrubbed at her face, where tears were streaming against her will.
“Dokja may think I'm a heartless monster, but I’m not that good. That’s your job.”
Yoo Joonghyuk finally opened his mouth. “You think I do not feel guilt? That I’m not in pain?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked heavily.
“Frankly, I don’t know what you feel, Yoo Joonghyuk.”
He leaned in close to her. The starlight lined his features, and Han Sooyoung was suddenly aware of the sheer planes of his cheeks, the unhappy twist of his mouth, and the deep shadows under his eyes.
“I… I have never had to do this before. I have never been forced to stay like this. To grieve. To see everyone else grieve.” His voice was rough with emotion.
“You aren’t going to regress?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“No.” He stared down at her. “I don’t think Kim Dokja will be in the next regression.”
It was as Kim Dokja had told her.
“So, he’s dead for good,” she said. “And we’ve killed him.”
Han Sooyoung buried her face in her hands, and, as loud as she dared with everyone else sleeping,
“Fuck!”
It was muffled slightly by her palms.
A couple beats passed, and then she felt a rough hand on her damp forehead, thumbing her overgrown bangs out of her eyes. It was an oddly sweet gesture.
She looked up. “What?” Her throat was constricted, making even that word sound pathetic.
“Han Sooyoung, he trusted me to get the job done.” He paused, throat bobbing. “He trusted you for the same thing.”
Trust. If this was trust, she didn’t like it.
“I hate him,” she seethed. “Does he know what he left behind? That can’t have been the only option.”
Yoo Joonghyuk exhaled. “Kim Dokja made his choice—”
“—And it was a stupid choice—”
“He made his choice, and we’re alive for it. Kim Dokja died for—for us.”
His face spasmed, quick as a flash, in a rictus of pain. He looked down, opened and closed his fists. Kim Dokja had died in those arms, she recalled. Yoo Joonghyuk had tried to grab for him, but he’d disintegrated. Like trying to hold water.
Han Sooyoung hadn’t been able to see his face at the time, but who wouldn’t have been able to hear him?
Kim Dokja! No! Kim Dokja!
“You love him,” she breathed.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyebrows furrowed. He took in her face.
“So do you.” Like it was obvious.
They looked at each other in the dark.
“So then, what are you doing? Going to avenge his memory by hunting constellations for sport? Kiss his tombstone and sleep on his grave?”
Kim Dokja’s empty grave was marked in a nearby park—no one in the party knew where he originally lived, not even Yoo Sangah. There were always fresh flowers there whenever she stopped by.
“No.”
It was then that she saw something peeking from Yoo Joonghyuk’s coat pocket. Someone.
“What is that?” She pointed.
“No one.” He tried to push it deeper into his coat but she was faster. Han Sooyoung snatched up what appeared to be a little stuffed doll.
“For your sister? She lives here, you kn—” Wait, no. The doll’s hair was a distinct shade of blonde, and if she shifted some of the hair aside—
On the back of the doll’s neck was embroidered: If lost, return to Eden.
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is telling you to let go of her.]
“...Why do you have the Archangel Uriel in your pocket?”
Yoo Joonghyuk quickly took the Uriel doll back from her and held it up high so she couldn’t reach. Bastard.
“You’re not with Heewon, so she’s not here for… wait.”
He glared at her.
“Is this about Kim Dokja?” she asked in a perfect echo of him from ten minutes ago.
“...”
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is shaking her head furiously.]
“No way . Weren’t you just saying Dokja was dead, asshole?”
“He is dead.” Expelled from the scenario, which was eventually the same thing. Unless…
“Are you going to make him not dead?”
No answer. She studied him and the doll critically.
“Well, if you are, I hope you haven’t told anyone beforehand. So you don’t create false hope.”
“Why else did you think I was leaving at four in the morning?”
It was too late for her, of course, but the rest of the party didn’t need the emotional whiplash. As it was, she laughed wetly. Maybe, just maybe, Kim Dokja could come back even from this.
Yoo Joonghyuk let out a puff of air which she recognized as a laugh. Then, he stuck Uriel into an inner coat pocket, adjusted his sheathed sword, and said: “You wouldn’t be in the next regression, either.”
And before she could even react to that he added, “Let Yoo Sangah do the talking in the government negotiations. If you talk, you’ll get us all arrested.”
“Fuck you.”
A thought occurred to her.
“Hey.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder, a hand on the doorknob. “Do you think us killing him means we fulfilled the prophecy?”
She could barely make his features out at this distance, but she thought his eyes widened incrementally.
“Goodbye, Han Sooyoung.”
|Incarnation Kim Dokja will be killed by his most loved ones.|