Chapter Text
Kim Dokja has lived a relatively mundane life up until this point. He graduated from high school, served in the military, studied at university, and is now currently working as an underpaid contract worker under his evil corporate overlords.
Aside from an unhealthy relationship with his mother, and an even more unhealthy addiction to web novels he's nothing remarkable. He didn't write an award-winning novel, he didn't cure cancer, and he definitely did not solve world hunger (if anything, he's the one in need of food). Throughout his whole 28 years of living, he's managed to spend the majority of it living like a ghost. Unnoticed and unperceived by the many who he pass by. He's not what one might call a "social butterfly" but that suits him just fine. It's not like he cares anyway, after all, staying under the radar is far more appealing than his alternative.
Despite his tendency to remain unseen, however, some things are impossible to hide from. Namely, the media. Every time he hears someone mention the "Underground Killer" or sees a news reporter walking in his general direction he is reminded of those people who used to hound him every day after school. Everyone wanted to know what it was like...being the son of a murderer. Nosy reporters knocking on his front door, school bullies hurling insults his way, family members berating him constantl- Actually, let's just stop there before this gets too depressing. After all, this isn't meant to be a retelling of his tragic backstory.