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Kim Dokja is the Oldest Dream.
It isn’t difficult to piece together, but finding out the unknown only makes the world click into place as a horrifying weight settles onto his shoulders: a reality he didn’t want. The guilt enters his body, webbing into his blood, his bones, his veins.
He only has one goal in mind as he stares back at those eyes mirroring his own, yet they’re bigger and starry. A stupid reflection of hope that should have never existed. Red fills his vision, eyes trembling as he charges forward, wanting nothing more than to undo the damage he has done. Truthfully, he might be using the deal he made with Secretive Plotter as an excuse, but this is him taking accountability. The only way to make up for it, the only way to forgive himself is to plunge a sword against the Oldest Dream’s chest. His heart is not pure, it is evil, it manifested this world where the people he cared for suffered too much.
There is no one to blame but himself.
His companions are yelling, holding him down, he thinks he hears Han Sooyoung crying and he cannot fathom why. Something thrums down his fingertips, something cold and fearful. Something beyond guilt. He is afraid, but of what?
Bleary eyed, with his cheek in the ground, he stares in confusion as those in the 999th round take the Oldest Dream with them, treating him with gentleness like he was just some kid. But why? Why didn’t Secretive Plotter just get rid of him? How could he protect someone like him? Even looking at the Oldest Dream only aggravates him further. The bruises littering his face and body is proof that he couldn’t fend for himself. That he is too weak. It’s shameful, it’s idiotic, and he can only watch as the Oldest Dream is benignly talked to and looked at in a way he craved for. He could never have this.
God, he doesn’t want pity right now. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
He realizes that maybe he can make things right. If his younger self is now living in a worldline where he is cared for, then he can compensate in this one. The damage has been done already. All he can do now is repent for as long as he exists. It seems that his existence only causes the misfortune of others and his pathetic thinking almost makes him seem heroic, but the decision wasn’t done out of complete selflessness. If he is responsible for this world, then he is obligated to watch over it in solitude. It’s that or the worldline crumbles. Truthfully, it’s the least he can do for himself and his companions. If anyone deserves to reach a happy ending, it’s them.
He sends off an avatar with forty-nine percent of his memories. Kim Dokja watches, his ghost remains in the cold subway while his companions laugh and nudge and tease. Sparkly-eyed and pleased, they almost looked like a family.
He is content, and he will keep telling himself so. At the end of the day, he is Kim Dokja, a reader, an outsider, an observer. That is all he’ll ever be.