Chapter Text
Since Kim Dokja was a child he would always feel like something was missing, an emptiness he cannot explain. There's a pull calling him to somewhere far away. Some days it's just a little tingling at the back of his mind. Some days the call hurts him, like his soul was being pulled apart. But mysteriously, whenever he looks up to the starry sky the call eases, being appeased. When night comes and the stars appear one by one to give light to the sky, Kim Dokja would be at peace. Like the stars are old friends watching over him.
Walking home from school, Kim Dokja decided to take another route, prolonging going back home. On a hillside road, he saw an antique shop. He slows down and peered on the items on display. At the corner of his eyes he saw something glimmer. It was an old pocket watch. Kim Dokja's heart stings a little, welling up with an emotion he cannot describe. The call making itself known. Kim Dokja feels compelled to see it closer and before he knows it, he was already pushing the doors open, a little door chime clinking as he does. The inside of the shop is bathed in sunlight, a cozy feeling can be felt from the décor. The interior is a soft caramel hue, beige carpets laid on the floor, towering cabinets from all sides, a counter table cushioned with silk pillows cradling the items for display.
Kim Dokja stood in front of the pocket watch, it's very old with scratches marring the surface, its chain - broken. Kim Dokja reached for the watch, grazing it with his fingers lightly, tracing the designs reverently. Finger catching on the mechanism he felt, he pressed on it and the cover swung open. The glass is cracked, the hands no longer working. Kim Dokja looked around the shop but saw no attendants of staff.
He called out, "Hello?" but there is only silence.
Kim Dokja took the watch and moved deeper into the shop. All around him, items of old are displayed with care; porcelain tea sets, vases, toys, an old typewriter, daggers and swords, a brass scale of justice, an empty bullet shell pierced and made into a necklace, a miniature galleon ship, old fishing baits, a hand stitched doll, a golden spool of thread and books, so many books. Kim Dokja wonders what stories they might hold, what these items have seen and lived through.
Kim Dokja is near the back of the shop and he can see the counter where employees usually are.
Thud
Something fell on the ground behind him. He looked back and his gaze dropped to the ground. It was a book. Black with browning pages, Kim Dokja picked it up. It was heavy, the embossing digging into his hand. The front and back is decorated with silver markings; vines and cogs, stars and runes he doesn't know the meaning of or if it even mean anything. He opened the book carefully, afraid that the fragile pages would crumble, it reads "For our dearest reader". The page held between his fingers are so old it's almost see-through. He closed the book and took it with him, hugging it close to his chest.
He ventured all the way to the back of the store and saw a man standing behind a counter that Kim Dokja is certainly sure that one moment ago is empty. The man sees Kim Dokja and greeted him. For some reason, Kim Dokja felt as if he had heard that voice before.
"Excuse me?" He says tentatively, "I would like to know how much are these items please," he finished quietly, "And thank you."
The man looked at what he brought, he inspected the pocket watch before saying, "Well for this watch normally I would say $150 but since this watch doesn't work anymore and has a damaged exterior, I'm willing to give it to you for $25. As for the book, no one really showed any interest on it, besides maintenance for old books are costly so how about another $20."
That would be a total of $45 and Kim Dokja doesn't have that much money. He became troubled. He fidgets and wrings his hand in worry.
The man noticed his plight and said, "If you don't have that much money, how about paying it in installments. How's that kiddo?" Kim Dokja's mood brightened at that, "Thank you very much!" he exclaims.
"I'll keep this for you in the meant time." The shopkeeper set aside his items behind the counter.
"Here," Kim Dokja holds his hand out, "I have 5. I'll come back," He said and turned to leave.
'Walking out of the shop is quicker that going in and exploring the inside,' he thinks as he pulled the door and emerged out of the shop. The world seems brighter, more vibrant, lighter. Inside the shop the man watched Kim Dokja leave.
"Farewell little dreamer," the man mumbles but no one was around to hear it.