Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The community home was practically lifeless as Kim Dokja walked through its halls. At this time of morning, there were usually tons of people, adults and kids alike, barrelling up and down the corridors. Now, however, it looked like the life had been squeezed out of the home as very few kids could be seen, their heads down. A few adults rushed by with the most fancy clothes they could afford in their hands, ready to give them to the favorites out of the community home. No one noticed Kim Dokja as he quietly walked, lifeless.

The day of the reaping had arrived. Every child 12 to 18 years old had the chance to be called. Some of the younger ones, specifically the ones who had turned 12, could be seen crying. It was their first reaping, but Kim Dokja had been doing this for years.

Kim Dokja walked until he found the room he was looking for. A previously abandoned closet, until Kim Dokja filled it with books. Abandoned rooms weren't common in the community home, where just about every inch had to be purposed for the many orphaned children living inside it. When Kim Dokja found this barely-used closet, he immediately repurposed it for his own uses. Now, the shelves were filled with whatever books Kim Dokja could get his hands on. There weren't as many as he would have liked, but this closet had proved to be his safe haven, away from everything and everyone else.

Kim Dokja grabbed the newest book he'd been reading and closed the door behind him to sit on the floor and read. Luckily for him, there was a lightbulb he could use as his reading light, however dim it may be. Outside, he could hear more and more children and teenagers out and about, getting ready for the reaping. In case you were called, it was generally best to look as good as you could on the day of the reaping. You wouldn't want to be on stage, in front of the eyes of the entire country, looking like a ragdoll. It was no use for many children of the community home. Only the favorites got the good clothes, while the rest had to scrounge around for the nicest rags they had.

The community home was where all children were placed when no adults could take care of them. Almost all of the children were orphans, the rest were abandoned or had parents who could no longer look after them. The conditions weren't great as there wasn't enough food to fill every child in the home. Clothes, soap, and other amenities were hard to come by, too. The adults who ran the place tended to choose their favorite children, and it was those who got the special treatment. They had food, amenities, and good clothes for the reaping, while the rest had to try their best to survive.

Kim Dokja arrived at the community home when he was just a young child. At that time, all of District 12 knew who he was. Murder wasn’t common in the Districts, so when it did happen, it was very well-known.

Kim Dokja’s father had abused him and his mother for years. Every day, Kim Dokja walked around with bruises littering his skin, a dull look to his eyes, and barely any skin on his bones. His mother looked the same, but when people had their own problems to deal with – like trying to feed themselves or their family – a young, abused boy and his mother were not something they cared about. At least, not until his mother killed his father. District 12 was pretty lax with its rules, but murder was not something they could look past. Kim Dokja’s mother was publicly executed, and Kim Dokja had lost both of his parents. 

Life in the community home was neither better nor worse than life before. Everyone avoided him, as it was taboo to be close to the son of a murderer. He was forced to find his own food and take care of himself. Ever since that day, he’d been on his own. 

When he turned 12, he was old enough to put his name in the reaping. Because of the lack of food provided, he was also forced to put his name in an extra time. Tessarae was given to anyone who put their name in an additional time, which was a meager supply of grain and oil for one person for a year. Some people put their names in multiple times to feed their families, too, but Kim Dokja only needed to feed himself. Since then, he’d had to put his name in an extra time every year, and since it was cumulative, at his current age of 16, he had his name in the reaping 10 times.

Kim Dokja had never cared much for the reaping. Many of the other kids and teenagers were terrified of having their names called because that meant they had to participate in the Hunger Games, which basically meant death. Kim Dokja, however, had never cared if his name was pulled. He had no one who cared about him, and no one he cared about. Besides, he only had his name in 10 times, which compared to some of the other teenagers with big families, wasn’t many. The odds were in his favor.

An hour before he had to be in the square for the reaping, Kim Dokja emerged from his closet. He had no better clothes to change into, but he might as well clean himself up a little. Wash his face, comb his hair, and make himself look as presentable as possible.

At 1 o’clock, everyone was corralled out of the house and into the square. There was a roped-off space for all of the kids participating in the reaping, while everyone else was in the streets around. All the kids filed in, with the oldest in the front and the youngest in the back. Kim Dokja joined the other 16-year-olds and turned his attention to the stage in the front. On it, there were three chairs. One of them sat the mayor, Mayor Gong. 

Mayor Gong was a grouchy old man with balding hair. He seemed extra cranky today, as it was known that one of his children was old enough to put her name in the reaping. Not even the mayor’s children were exempt from potentially being called.

Another chair sat a young-looking man, who must have been the new escort for District 12. District 12’s former escort had graduated to a new District the previous year, so this nervous-looking man appeared to be the new one.

In the last chair sat the only alive past District 12 victor of the Hunger Games, Kyrgios Rodgraim. Kyrgios Rodgraim was one of the most handsome men Kim Dokja had ever seen, but his looks were unfortunately ruined by his sour face and attitude. He sat in his chair with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

Once it turned 2 o’clock, Mayor Gong rose from his chair and stepped up to the podium. In his gruff voice, he read off the history of Panem, something he was required to read every year. He stated what the country went through before and during the war. He listed the hardships Panem had faced, how it overcame them after the war, and then the rise of the Games. The war had started when the Districts rebelled against the Capitol, wanting to be free from their grasp. After a painful war lasting years, the Capitol defeated the Districts. To remind the Districts who were in charge and punish them for rebelling, the annual Hunger Games were born. Each of the 12 Districts had to produce a boy and girl tribute, who were then thrown into an arena and forced to murder each other until one tribute was left standing. The tributes were chosen randomly at the reaping, where all children aged 12 to 18 were forced to put their names in. Then, everyone watched as these children fought each other to the death.

It was cruel, forcing children to murder each other every year. Kim Dokja had always hated watching the Games.

After Mayor Gong finished with his spiel, concluding with the names of the past District 12 victors of the Hunger Games, he stepped off the podium, and the new escort from the Capitol stepped up.

“H-Happy Hunger Games!” The escort exclaimed in his nervous voice. Not only were the Districts forced to sacrifice their children to murder each other, they were also forced to treat it as some sort of festivity. The Hunger Games were aired to all of Panem, but while it was depressing in the Districts, it was treated as entertainment in the Capitol. Sick bastards, enjoying children murdering each other.

“May the odds be e-ever in your favor!” The escort squeaked out. “M-my name is Youngki, and it is my honor to be your escort for this Hunger Games and many to come.” The escort, Youngki, began. After some more talking about the Games and how much of an honor it was to be District 12’s escort, it was finally time for the drawing.

“Ladies f-first!” Youngki said as he walked over to a big glass ball with hundreds of little slips of paper inside. Each of those slips of paper had a young girl’s name written on it. He reached into the ball, scrounged around, and then pulled out a tiny slip of paper. He squinted as he read the name.

“Han Sooyoung!”

Everyone turned around, and Kim Dokja searched through the crowd to see a young girl of about 14 walking toward the stage. She looked confident, with her chin high as she walked past the rows of people. She was pretty for a girl in District 12, with shoulder-length black hair and a mole under her left eye. She seemed more put together than most tributes did as she stood on the stage in front of everyone.

“Let’s g-give Han Sooyoung a round of applause, everyone!” Youngki said.

The girl even smirked a little when the crowd clapped for her. As tributes for the Hunger Games go, she certainly wasn’t the worst. Most tributes for District 12 were sniveling and crying by now, but this one was fairly put together. She was not even shaking, at least not noticeably.

Youngki moved over to the glass ball holding the names of the boys and said, “I-It’s time to choose the male tribute!”

It seemed all the boys were holding their breath as Youngki reached into the bowl to pull out a little piece of paper.

.

.

.

“Kim Dokja!”

Kim Dokja froze. Oh. That was his name.

With only 10 little pieces of paper in that giant bowl, he figured the odds were he wouldn’t get called. How wrong he was.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way past everyone to the stage, trying to follow Han Sooyoung’s example of being confident. He could hear murmurs from the people around him as they parted to make way.

“That’s him, right?”

“The murderer’s son.”

“Good riddance.”

Kim Dokja held it together like he had always done for years as he made his way to the stage. Han Sooyoung gave a wayward smile as Kim Dokja took his place next to her. The mayor spoke more about the Treaty of Treason, which gave the Districts the new laws to guarantee peace and the Hunger Games. After he finished, Kim Dokja and Han Sooyoung shook hands and turned back to the crowd as the anthem played.

After the anthem finished, they were immediately whisked off by Peacekeepers to the Justice Building, where the tributes could say goodbye to anyone they wished to. Kim Dokja had no one who would want to say goodbye to him, so he sat alone in the little room they provided and tried to keep himself together.

He was going to be participating in the Hunger Games.

Kim Dokja took deep breaths as he processed that. It was never something he quite thought would be real. He always thought he would be able to hold himself together well if he was called to be a tribute. He’d never cared about death before. But his situation hit him. The Hunger Games weren’t just death, they were having your suffering broadcasted to the whole country while you were forced to either kill or be killed. In most cases, both. It was basically torture for a lot of kids.

But Kim Dokja couldn’t afford to fall apart. It was even more humiliating to have your breakdown filmed for everyone to see, and there would be more cameras to record him.

It took less time than Kim Dokja thought it would for the peacekeepers to come back to haul Kim Dokja to the train station. He met up with Han Sooyoung, and they both faced the reporters sticking cameras in their faces as they boarded the train to the Capitol. It sped away as soon as the doors closed behind them, and Kim Dokja and Han Sooyoung collectively released a breath now that they were away from the cameras. Youngki joined them as they took a small tour of the train and their living quarters. They each had their own rooms, complete with a bedroom, dressing area, and a bathroom. It was significantly more private space than Kim Dokja had ever had. The only private space he ever really had at the community home was that little closet he claimed. Kim Dokja realized he would probably never see that little closet again. It was the closest thing he would ever have to a home.

Youngki left them alone in their rooms, telling them in his stuttering voice that they could do anything they wanted and that he would be back to get them for dinner. Kim Dokja figured it’d be best if he changed, but when he looked at the giant wardrobe filled with many, many clothes, he was overwhelmed by the choices he had. He’d never had nearly this many clothes in his life. He eventually chose the first clothes at the top of the drawers, resulting in a simple white tee and comfortable pants.

Youngki came by as he said he would collect Kim Dokja for dinner, leading him through the train to the fancy dining room that was about as big as his shared bedroom back in the community home. Han Sooyoung and Kyrgios Rodgraim were waiting for him at the table. Kyrgios Rodgraim did not look happy to be there in the slightest.

As a past victor of the Hunger Games, Kyrgios Rodgraim was required to mentor all of the new tributes in the Games. It was his job to try his best to keep the District 12 tributes alive. Considering there were no other District 12 victors, Kim Dokja guessed he had not succeeded in that. But then Kim Dokja considered what it was like to mentor two kids each year and then watch them die over and over and wondered how Kyrgios had not fallen into a drunken depression.

Everyone gave greetings to each other, except Kyrgios who sat silently with a sour look on his face, looking wholly disinterested in what was happening. Kim Dokja didn’t blame him.

After Kim Dokja and Youngki sat down, servants brought in the food. The whole table was filled with plates of food. It was more food than Kim Dokja had ever seen in his life, and glancing at Han Sooyoung’s face, it seemed she felt similarly awed. Youngki told them to make sure to save room as they both dug in, as there would be more food to come. When they finished with their food, the servants brought in more. And more. And more. It was the best food Kim Dokja had ever had in his life. It was more than the best – it was heavenly.

Unfortunately for Kim Dokja, his stomach wasn’t used to being filled so much. By the time the food stopped coming, he was having trouble keeping it all down. He clutched his stomach, but he’d gone days in a row without eating anything multiple times, he could handle a little stomach pain. Kim Dokja regretted nothing.

After they finished their meal, the group moved to the TV to rewatch the reapings. These were going to be the kids who would be going into the arena with him, so it was crucial to know what his competition would be. Kim Dokja didn’t think about how all but one of the kids shown on the screen would end up dead before the month was over.

The reapings were shown in order from District 1 first to District 12 last. Unsurprisingly, the boy from District 1 was a volunteer. People often volunteered in the more well-off Districts, as winning the Games meant glory for both you and your District. The first few Districts tend to have the most volunteers, and the tributes tend to have trained their whole lives for the Games. The male volunteer from District 1 was an older teen with light brown hair and an uncanny smile. The girl, who also volunteered, was breathtakingly beautiful, with long brown hair, a sweet smile, yet cunning eyes. What shocked Kim Dokja was that the male tribute from District 2 wasn’t a volunteer. There was almost always a volunteer from District 2. Maybe everyone was too speechless from how handsome the tribute was, though. The girl tribute from District 1 was pretty, but this man could easily beat her in terms of beauty. His black hair cascaded in waves down his forehead, his black eyes sharp. In fact, everything about this man was sharp, from his jawline to his eyebrows to his nose. He quite reminded Kim Dokja of Kyrgios Rodgraim, actually, with the sour expression he was wearing as he stood on the stage. Only much, much more handsome. Kim Dokja didn’t know that was possible. He was too busy focusing on this tribute that he almost didn’t notice the girl tribute. Her blonde hair was cut short at her shoulders, and her eyes were keen. A few other tributes stood out, too. The boy from District 4 lunged forward to volunteer, ecstatic to be in the Games. He looked kind of young to already be volunteering, and he somehow managed to have bleached white hair. Kim Dokja thought that that would be a complete waste of bleach, which was very, very hard to come by in District 12, but maybe it was a lot more common in District 4. The man from District 6 also looked beautiful, with long blonde hair, an androgynous face, and a cunning smile. There were quite a few young-looking tributes, but unfortunately, a whole two tributes seemed to be as young as 12 years old. The female from 10 and male from 11 were very young, with the male even crying as he stood on the stage. The girl was quite put-together for someone so young, but if Kim Dokja paid attention, he could see her frame shaking.

Finally, District 12 was last. Kim Dokja’s own reaping. He saw Han Sooyoung get called and make her way to the stage, and then he heard his name and watched as his past self took his place next to her. So many of the tributes Kim Dokja saw from the other Districts looked pretty or handsome (the females from 5, 9, and 11 were also beautiful), and Han Sooyoung also looked pretty, so Kim Dokja looked bland in comparison. He looked quite small for his age on the TV, and his drab outfit did not do him any favors.

The anthem played, and then the program ended. The room stayed silent until Kyrgios Rodgraim silently rose and left the room.

Han Sooyoung scoffed. “You’d think, as our mentor, he’d try harder. He probably believes us to already be dead.”

“I already know I am. Have you seen those other tributes?” Kim Dokja said.

Han Sooyoung gave him the stink eye. “Well, you may have given up hope, but I haven’t. The Games haven’t even started!”

“I’m just being realistic. There are 24 of us and only one will survive. I’ve spent my entire life being malnourished, and some of those tributes spent their lives being trained. What are the odds, Han Sooyoung?”

Han Sooyoung scoffed again, turning her head away. “You never know. The careers don’t win every game.”

“But they win most. And how many times has a tribute from 12 won?”

Han Sooyoung turned her eyes to the doorway, where the only victor from 12 left through.

Kim Dokja sighed, standing up. “Be realistic. Misguided hope won’t win you the Games.”

Han Sooyoung had a scowl on her face as Kim Dokja left, sparing poor Youngki who looked so nervous and out of place. He felt exhausted as he headed back to his room on the train.

Chapter Text

Kim Dokja didn’t feel sorry for what he had said to Han Sooyoung. Neither of them had a good shot of winning the Games and hope would just be deluding themselves. It was best to come to terms with their deaths now.

Besides, Kim Dokja had no reason to be nice to her. In some time, they would both be in the arena together, trying to kill each other. Being nice would mean nothing now.

Though, she may have had a bit of a point with their mentor. Even if they were very likely to die, Kyrgios Rodgraim could at least try to get them out alive. It was his job as their only mentor.

Ruminating on these thoughts, Kim Dokja sat on his bed, staring out the window and watching the scenery go by. How long did he have left to live? Was there anything he regretted? What should he do with the remaining week of his life? Was there anything else he wanted to do? No, Kim Dokja thought, not really.

Kim Dokja would live the rest of his life to the fullest. He would probably have more of an enjoyable time at the Capitol than he did for any of his life before. He would enjoy his time in the Capitol, and then he would participate in the Games and then he’d die. That was just how it was going to go. He could try to prolong his life in the arena, and he’d probably succeed, but his death was the only ending possible here.

Oh, he’d never read another book, would he? Kim Dokja thought of that unfinished book he was reading back at the community home. He would never finish reading that book. He’d never know how it ended. And he had one other book that he had yet to read, planning to start on it after he finished reading his current book. And all of those books he was looking forward to rereading, too… He’d never be able to do any of those things again.

Kim Dokja watched as the sky grew darker and darker until there were stars in the night sky. Eventually, he got up to remove his clothing, throwing on only an oversized shirt from the wardrobe over his boxers as he laid back in bed, getting under the covers.

Overall, it was a sleepless night for Kim Dokja.

Kim Dokja was awoken in the morning from whatever half-sleeping state he was in by Youngki knocking on the door. “U-um… Kim Dokja-nim? It’s time to wake up…”

Kim Dokja sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes. “Thank you, Youngki,” he said to let Youngki know he was awake.

Moving to the bathroom, Kim Dokja washed his face, splashing cold water on it to wake him up quickly. He stared at himself in the mirror, taking in his pale skin and deep bags under his dull eyes. Shaking his head, he turned away from the mirror to go back to his wardrobe. This time, he pulled out a black shirt and another regular pair of pants. Good enough.

After he was done cleaning himself up, Kim Dokja headed to the dining car for breakfast. Youngki and Kyrgios Rodgraim were already there, but Han Sooyoung had yet to arrive. Breakfast was already on the table, with both men having already started eating.

Kim Dokja awkwardly sat down at his spot at the table and filled his plate with some food. There was a selection of drinks, including a brown beverage that looked like coffee, a white drink that looked like milk, and a citrusy-smelling orange drink that Kim Dokja didn’t know. Kim Dokja didn’t care too much for the other selection of drinks, so he decided to try the orange drink, which was actually really good. There was a selection of other breakfast foods, including many different types of fruits, but Kim Dokja sat back and slowly sipped the orange drink while watching the other people at the table.

Kyrgios Rodgraim was currently glaring at his food as if it had killed his whole family. Kim Dokja wondered if it had done something to him or if his face was permanently stuck in that scowl. He didn't think he'd ever seen him in anything other than a glower.

Youngki was silently eating his food. He always looked so shy and out of place, which was the complete opposite of what Kim Dokja thought people from the Capitol were like. The last escort District 12 had was a bright and way-too-cheery young man so unlike this timid man in front of him.

Youngki noticed Kim Dokja looking him. “A-are you enjoying your orange juice, Kim Dokja-nim?”

Kim Dokja looked at the drink in his hands. “This is called orange juice?”

“Did Kim Dokja-nim not know this?” Youngki asked.

“Just Kim Dokja is fine. And no, I didn't. We don't get luxury beverages like this in District 12.”

Youngki looked at the other glasses of orange juice at the table. “I wouldn't call orange juice a luxury beverage. It's just orange juice.”

Kim Dokja squinted at Youngki. “I'm sure there's a lot of things you get often in the Capitol that's a luxury in the Districts.”

Youngki nervously turned his attention back to his food, not giving a response.

An awkward silence hung over the table until Kim Dokja turned his attention back to Kyrgios, who was glowering even harder at his food. “What did that food do to you for you to be staring at it like that, Kyrgios?”

Kyrgios turned his scowl onto Kim Dokja. “Use honorifics, brat.”

Kim Dokja was feeling particularly incensed this morning, enough to antagonize Kyrgios. The first time Kyrgios ever spoke to him, and it was to call him a brat? “And if I don't want to? What have you done to deserve the use of honorifics? Certainly not be our mentor.”

Kyrgios’s glare turned colder, but Kim Dokja was spared of whatever his response may be by Han Sooyoung’s arrival.

“You guys started eating without me? How rude.”

Kim Dokja gave her an easygoing smirk. “Maybe you should have been faster.”

Han Sooyoung scoffed, already piling her plate up with more food than he thought could fit in her stomach. He decided it was probably time for him to start eating, too.

If Han Sooyoung noticed the slightly awkward atmosphere at the table, she didn't say anything as everyone silently ate their food.

Well, the table was silent until Han Sooyoung took a drink of a brown liquid that seemed to be coffee. She immediately gasped, staring down into the brown liquid with awe-filled eyes. “What is this? This is so good.”

Kim Dokja squinted at her drink. “Isn't that coffee?”

Han Sooyoung shook her head. “No, it's something else entirely. Here, you have to try some!” She shoved the drink into his hands.

Kim Dokja frowned at the liquid, wondering what was so great about it. Tentatively, he took a sip, and immediately downed a lot more, forgetting it was technically Han Sooyoung’s cup. It was a lot different than the bitterness of coffee; it was sweet, sweeter than any drink Kim Dokja had ever had and so, so good.

Quietly, Youngki chuckled. “That’s called hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate?” Han Sooyoung echoed, already having another drink of the stuff in her hands. “So this is what chocolate’s like? I've never had it before.”

Youngki frowned. “You've never had chocolate…?”

Han Sooyoung shook her head, already downing her drink.

Youngki’s frown stayed on his face, but he must have learned from his conversation with Kim Dokja because he didn't say anything else.

Han Sooyoung continued stuffing her face with as much food as she could, completely forgoing any and all manners. Kyrgios was scowling at her. Like normal. Kim Dokja tried to maintain a little of his dignity as he ate, but he was not used to having so much good food that it was a little hard to hold back.

Han Sooyoung finally noticed Kyrgios glaring and stopped eating for a moment to return his scowl. “What's your problem?”

Kim Dokja looked between Kyrgios Rodgraim and Han Sooyoung for a moment before turning to Han Sooyoung. “Ah, it seems Kyrgios Rodgraim -ssi has forgotten how starved the rest of us from District 12 are.”

Han Sooyoung let a wicked grin spread across her face before responding. “You're right. How disrespectful of me to not remember how beneath him I am.”

Kim Dokja gave a solemn nod. “Of course. I mean, he's so above us that he can't even bother to mentor us properly-”

Kyrgios stood up in a flash, whipping out a knife from the table and stabbing the table between Kim Dokja and Han Sooyoung. “Do you wish to die?”

Kim Dokja and Han Sooyoung shared a look before bursting out in laughter. Han Sooyoung was too busy trying to catch her breath, so Kim Dokja responded. “We're going to die anyway in the arena, especially without your mentoring.”

Kyrgios Rodgraim turned the full force of his murderous gaze onto Kim Dokja, who tried his best not to look away or flinch. It felt like the entire room dropped a couple of degrees. Kim Dokja saw why he won the Hunger Games. He could truly be scary.

Kyrgios Rodgraim moved swiftly around the table to Kim Dokja’s side, picking up the knife from the table. He forcefully grabbed Kim Dokja's arm and, despite his protests, moved him to the adjacent car.

Kyrgios thrusted the knife into Kim Dokja’s hand. “You think you have worth? Show me what you can do with that knife.”

Kim Dokja looked between the knife and Kyrgios Rodgraim hesitantly. Kyrgios stared at him expectantly. Gripping the knife, Kim Dokja decided to try slashing it. He'd never handled a knife before, so it was a little awkward.

Kyrgios scoffed. “Are you stupid? All that big talk and you cannot even slash a knife?”

Han Sooyoung exploded with laughter, clutching her stomach from the doorway where she was watching them from.

Kim Dokja looked distastefully at her. “How about you do this, Han Sooyoung? You were the one talking about him being a mentor yesterday.”

Han Sooyoung wiped a nonexistent tear from her eye. “Sure, I'll show you how it's done.”

She strode over, took the knife from him, and twirled it once in her hand just to show off before throwing it. It landed perfectly inside the wall with a ‘shink!’ Han Sooyoung turned back to Kim Dokja, a triumphant grin on her face.

Kyrgios regarded the knife in the wall. “So you can throw it, but how much good will that do in hand-to-hand combat?”

Han Sooyoung’s grin quickly turned into a scowl. “That doesn't matter because I won't be in hand-to-hand combat, anyway.”

“Anything can happen in the arena, and you need to be ready. You cannot throw your knife in a knife fight.”

Han Sooyoung scoffed, turning away. “Whatever.”

Kyrgios Rodgraim regarded the both of them. “As it stands, both of you stand no chance in the arena. You are both going to die.”

Han Sooyoung turned back towards him, indignant. “Not being able to slash a knife doesn't determine everything!”

Kyrgios scowled at both of them. “He can barely hold a knife, and you're so naive to think you won't ever get into hand-to-hand combat.”

“Well-” Han Sooyoung started.

“Then teach us.” Kim Dokja interrupted. “That's your job as our mentor, right? To keep us alive in the Games? Then do your job and teach us.”

Kyrgios regarded both of them for a moment before turning away. “I will think about it.” With that, he strolled off.

“It's not supposed to be a choice,” Han Sooyoung mumbled.

Kim Dokja didn't know how he somehow ended up trying to convince Kyrgios to start teaching them. He had no confidence he'd win, he just felt slighted by Kyrgios’s insults. Kim Dokja supposed Han Sooyoung could use the help, she may actually have a chance. She was confident.

Youngki walked into the room and shrieked when he saw the knife in the wall. He quickly dislodged it and sat it on a table. Then he started corralling them to the front of the car, where they'd be getting off. “We're almost to the Capitol! Be ready, you're going to be handed to your stylists soon.”

The stylists. They dressed up the tributes to try to garner attention and made them look all pretty in front of the Capitol before putting them in the Games. Each tribute got their own team of stylists who chose how to dress them for each pre-Games event in the Capitol. And after the Games, too. But only if they made it out alive.

The train went dark as it ran through a tunnel that traveled through a mountain. Once out of the tunnel, they were in the Capitol. Kim Dokja and Han Sooyoung moved to the window to see, and they both gasped. The Capitol had been shown on TV before, but no video could compare to the real thing. It was a lot different than District 12. There were buildings everywhere, towering in the sky in different rainbow hues. The city looked completely alive and vibrant, with bright-faced people mulling about. Some people turned to gawk at the train, recognizing them as tributes. Some began to point and cheer, waving at them. Han Sooyoung soaked it all in, a confident smile on and her chin up.

The train began to slow, arriving at their station. Before the doors opened, Kyrgios Rodgraim came up to them. “You two. Do not do or say anything against your stylists,” and he left it at that.

Han Sooyoung and Kim Dokja looked at each other in confusion, shrugging.

Kim Dokja’s stylists were exactly what he thought people from the Capitol were like. There were three of them, apart from his head stylist. They each had weird code names that they sometimes called each other. Kim Dokja had no idea what that was about.

The most excitable one was Uriel. She had long, curly blonde hair and vibrant green eyes. Uriel talked the most, excitedly going off about anything and everything. She was also called Demon-Like Judge of Fire, but Kim Dokja wasn’t sure why. This woman didn't seem very demon-like to him.

Next was probably the most tame one, Sun Wukong. Though, calling him the most tame was like calling him the tallest among dwarves. It didn't mean much. Sun Wukong had long blonde hair, slicked back in a ponytail and a golden headband. Sometimes, he was called Prisoner of the Golden Headband or The Great Sage, Heaven’s Equal. Odd names, but they were all odd.

Last was arguably the oddest out of this trio, Abyssal Black Flame Dragon. Apparently, he was never called anything else. Kim Dokja knew that he was the same age as his other stylists, but he looked like a teenager. He had short, spikey black hair and a grouchy attitude. Kim Dokja thought he had eye bags at first, but it turned out he created fake eye bags using makeup. That, plus his dramatic black eye-shadow and eyeliner made him look like a chuuni.

Uriel squealed the first time she saw him. “Ahh! You look so handsome in real life! I loved seeing you on screen!”

Kim Dokja furrowed his brows in confusion.

Abyssal Black Flame Dragon scoffed. “Please. He’s the most bland out of all of them.”

Uriel gasped as if he had said the most offensive thing. “You take that back! Dokja must be the most handsome out of them all!”

“Are you going blind in your old age, ahjumma?”

Uriel screamed, hitting him. “You aren’t any younger than I am!”

Abyssal scowled. “You must be getting old. This guy’s the blandest I’ve ever seen.”

Uriel went off on him, a string of curses flying out of her mouth as she chased him around the room.

Sun Wukong did nothing to placate the situation. Instead, he paid attention to Kim Dokja, who was standing naked in front of him. “The Plotter said to clean you up and not change much.”

Kim Dokja figured “The Plotter” must be his head stylist. He nodded.

While Uriel and Abyssal ran around in the background, Sun Wukong started working on Kim Dokja. The first thing he did was start scrubbing him down. Kim Dokja had taken baths on the train, but he never made too much of an effort to scrub all of the dirt off of him. Sun Wukong pulled out scrubs, determined to get every bit of dirt off him. Uriel and Abyssal finally stopped fighting after Uriel managed to tackle him to the ground, and they joined Sun Wukong to help fix up Kim Dokja. Uriel seemed very happy to help make Kim Dokja “prettier.”

They all scrubbed Kim Dokja raw until he felt like they removed a layer of his skin. Kim Dokja gritted his teeth, remembering what Kyrgios said about not going against the stylists in any way. It was his first actual piece of advice, so he said nothing as he was harshly scrubbed down.

After he felt as clean as the day he was born, they moved on to removing any hair in places it wasn’t supposed to be. Some places got hair removed completely, some were merely shaved down to not nearly be as long. Kim Dokja had never shaved once in his life, as he’d never owned a razer and he certainly wasn’t going to try to use a blade. They then lathered his skin down in multiple different types of lotion. Kim Dokja had no idea why they needed so many different types. Between adding more layers of lotion, they also sanded his nails down. That was one of the weirdest feelings Kim Dokja had ever felt, and he struggled to not squirm away from the nail filer.

Uriel squealed. “Perfect! You look so handsome, Dokja-ya!”

Kim Dokja cringed. Apparently, people from the Capitol didn’t know boundaries or when it was appropriate to use certain honorifics.

Abyssal Black Flame Dragon scowled. “I guess he looks a little better. He’s still bland, though.”

Uriel shoved Abyssal away.

Kim Dokja wondered how they ever became stylists together.

Sun Wukong nodded thoughtfully. “Maknae does look good. I think it’s time for the Plotter to look at him.”

Uriel nodded excitedly, her eyes sparkling. “I can’t wait to see what Plotter does with him!”

The three of them left the room, and Kim Dokja stood there shivering, anticipating whoever this “Plotter” must be.

A kind of odd, but handsome-looking man entered the room. He had a veil on, which was an odd fashion sense, but his face was very naturally handsome. One of his eyes was black, while the other was a golden yellow. Kim Dokja wondered if it was a contact or if he altered his eye to look like that.

The Plotter did a full circle around Kim Dokja, humming a little. “I can work with this. Let’s talk.”

Kim Dokja picked up his discarded robe, glad to be covering himself again, and followed the Plotter to the seating area. The Plotter sat across from Kim Dokja on the couch, and the table between them was filled with food.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kim Dokja. People call me Secretive Plotter.”

His head stylist was surprisingly a lot more tame than Kim Dokja thought he'd be, despite the weird name. The Capitol kept surprising him. “It's nice to meet you, too.” Kim Dokja nodded.

“So… The opening ceremony.” Secretive Plotter started.

The opening ceremony. Each tribute is dressed by their stylists in an outfit that represented the District they came from, and they rode chariots down a road to introduce them to the Capitol and all of Panem. Each District had something they were known for. District 4 was known for fishing, District 7 for lumber, District 11 agriculture, and District 12 coal mining. Coal mining was certainly not as interesting as some of the other Districts, so Kim Dokja had never cared too much about this.

Secretive Plotter looked him up and down, a calculative look in his eyes. After a moment of silence, he nodded.

“I'm going to focus more on the coal than the coal mining for your outfit.”

Kim Dokja nodded. That made sense.

“Coal by itself is plain, but it's also very important. I want to channel that.”

Secretive Plotter dressed Kim Dokja in a simple, thin black turtleneck and pants complete with black boots. His whole ensemble was black, making his pale skin look white compared to it. It was truly a plain outfit.

Secretive Plotter also gave him makeup. Kim Dokja expected him to cover up skin imperfections and his eye bags, but he didn’t expect to be given actual makeup. The shadows of his face were made to look darker, and he was given black eyeshadow around his eyes. What completed the look was a splash of gold on his eyelid, standing out amongst all of the black.

Standing in front of the mirror, Kim Dokja looked much older than he was used to. It was subtle, the look, but the flash of gold pulled it all together, adding a sort of subtle beauty that you wouldn’t have noticed had you not looked hard enough.

Secretive Plotter fussed with his hair some more before standing back and giving an appreciative nod. “It’s a good thing your hair is black.”

Kim Dokja met back up with Han Sooyoung, and it was clear that her stylist did not go for the subtle beauty approach. She was in a black dress with gradual transitions to yellow, orange, and red on top. She also had black eyeshadow, but there were more hints of gold in her makeup and a subtle dusting of golden glitter across her face. With her dress, she looked like she was glowing. Unlike Kim Dokja, her beauty slapped you across the face.

Han Sooyoung looked him up and down. “You clean up nicely.”

“I guess you don’t look too bad…” Kim Dokja responded.

Han Sooyoung grinned, doing a little spin. “Admit it. I look great.”

Kim Dokja rolled his eyes, but he didn’t refute her.

They were ushered down to the bottom of the Remake Center, which was basically a big stable, where the chariots awaited them. Each pair of tributes had a chariot that was colored to match their Districts and pulled by four horses. Kim Dokja and Han Sooyoung’s chariot was black. The horses that pulled the chariot were trained so they wouldn’t have to be guided by reigns, so the tributes didn’t have to do anything for the opening ceremony but look good for the crowd while the horses guided them.

Han Sooyoung and Kim Dokja entered the chariot and waited for their cue to begin riding. Each District started in order from 1 to 12, and since they were District 12, they went last.

Han Sooyoung scrutinized Kim Dokja further. “They really made you look plain, huh? What, did they think you could never compare to me?”

Kim Dokja rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, no. Please. Enlighten me.”

Kim Dokja decided to change the subject. “So, do you think Kyrgios will finally start to mentor us?”

Han Sooyoung squinted a little, but she didn’t say anything about the abrupt subject change. “I don’t know if that old fool could even do much if he did help. No one will want to even be near him with that scowl of us.”

Kim Dokja nodded. “I guess we’re sponsorless.”

Han Sooyoung flipped her hair. “That won’t stop me from winning, though.”

Kim Dokja rolled his eyes once more. “Good luck with that.”

The music began and the giant door opened, letting light into the area. The District 1 chariot started, and the District 2 chariot went after that.

Suddenly, Kim Dokja was feeling nervous. He was about to be presented to all of the Capitol, and all of the country. He knew there would be a lot of cameras to record him, and everyone in the Districts would be watching. He took a deep breath to calm himself and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.

Secretive Plotter fussed over his hair again. Kim Dokja didn’t know what he was changing about it, he thought it already looked fine enough. Plotter nodded. “Stand tall, chin up! Smile, you’ll do great.”

Kim Dokja nervously nodded, trying his best to mask his nervousness and stand straight. Soon enough, it was District 12’s turn to start moving.

When they made it out of the doors, light enveloped them. Kim Dokja squinted, his eyes adjusting to the harsh daylight. Then he heard the cheers. Many, many people were lining the streets, cheering for the tributes as they rode by in their chariots. Kim Dokja remembered Plotter’s advice and forced his chin up, waving at everyone with a smile on his face. He could tell people were focusing more on Han Sooyoung and the other tributes than him, but that was fine with him. He felt nauseous, looking at all of the people cheering, celebrating these teens and children who were about to go kill each other. How could these people do that? How could they celebrate this death fest as if it was some sort of fun festivity? A holiday?

Nonetheless, Kim Dokja kept a graceful smile on his face as they passed, careful not to let any of his inner thoughts show. This was the Hunger Games. He needed to be strategic about everything.

The chariots went down the street until they hit the City Circle in front of the president’s mansion. The chariots filled the loop and came to a stop, the music ending. Above them, on a balcony, the president appeared. The president had always reminded Kim Dokja of a demon. A dokkaebi, maybe. He was middle-aged with a sort of odd fashion sense, as he was most often seen wearing a fedora. The president gave a welcome as the cameras zipped by, giving another shot of each tribute. After the president’s speech (something Kim Dokja didn't care to listen to), the cameras showed one last shot of the tributes as the chariots pulled them into the Training Center, where they would spend the rest of their time in the Capitol before the Games.

Their stylists surrounded them as soon as they stopped moving. Secretive Plotter helped Kim Dokja out of the chariot, and suddenly he was surrounded by his three stylists.

“Ahhhh! Kim Dokja-ya looked so good!” Uriel squealed.

“Maknae didn’t look too bad.” Sun Wukong nodded.

“Most of the other tributes looked better.” Abyssal Black Flame Dragon butted in.

“ Do you want to repeat that to my face, bi- ”

Kim Dokja saw why Uriel was called demon-like. He agreed that she could be very scary when she wanted to be. After listening to Uriel droning on about how great he was, and fighting with Abyssal Black Flame Dragon, he eventually tuned them out and let his eyes wander the room to the other tributes. As he expected, all of the other tributes looked stunning. Kim Dokja was sure he wouldn’t be remembered compared to these people, no matter what Uriel said. He was completely blown away by how beautiful most of these other people were. As he was looking around the room, his eyes lingered on the male tribute from District 2. This man was surely the most stunning out of all these other tributes. He was also sure he was the most sour. This man was currently surrounded by what appeared to be his stylists, a scowl on his face, looking completely disinterested. His eyes moved across the room until they met Kim Dokja’s. Kim Dokja hurriedly looked away, a pink tinge to his ears.

This was going to be an interesting Hunger Games.

Chapter Text

The Training Center housed all the tributes until the Games began. Each floor was for a different District, and, as District 12 tributes, they were on the top floor. Once everyone piled into the elevator, Youngki pressed the little button labeled “12” and they shot up.

Kim Dokja had never ridden an elevator before, and he wasn’t sure what it would be like. Riding one bypassed all of his expectations, though. It was one of the weirdest feelings Kim Dokja had ever felt. It was slightly nauseating, the way the elevator felt as it rose. It went much faster than he thought it would, too. Kim Dokja both loved and hated the experience. He didn’t know if he wanted to ride it again or never step foot in it again.

Youngki had clearly started to warm up to them on the train as Kim Dokja noticed he stuttered less. But at the Capitol, he'd reverted back to his nervous self. He looked jittery, not meeting anyone’s eyes and seemingly trying to blend into the background.

Han Sooyoung flipped her hair. “So? How did we do? Do we have sponsors lining up yet?”

Youngki fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “W-Well… S-Some people seemed i-interested.”

Kyrgios scowled. “You're District 12. No one's going to sponsor you.”

Han Sooyoung turned her chin up. “They will after they see my charm.”

Kim Dokja snorted. He didn't mean to. It just came out. “Didn't we agree we'd be sponsorless?”

Han Sooyoung scowled at him for what seemed like the thousandth time. “Well, I have people interested in me. What about you?”

Kim Dokja shrugged. “Sponsors aren't in my plan.”

“Really? Your ‘plan’?” Her tone oozed with sarcasm.

“Yes. My plan. I actually have one, unlike you.”

Han Sooyoung scoffed. “I have a plan!”

“Your plan is just to get sponsors and throw knives at people,” Kim Dokja said.

“It is not! I just haven't told you my plan.”

Kim Dokja rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“Don't underestimate me. I'm smarter than you think.”

Kim Dokja raised an eyebrow skeptically before Youngki finally butted in. “W-w-why don't w-we take a tour of the f-floor?”

Kim Dokja felt bad for Youngki, so he went along with his little tour. Han Sooyoung kept glaring at him but maybe she also felt bad because she didn't say anything else. Kyrgios Rodgraim, predictably, did not join them. Kim Dokja still didn't know if he had agreed to actually be of help or not.

Kim Dokja’s room was the largest living space Kim Dokja had ever had, which wasn't saying much. It felt as large as the community home itself, though. It had a private bathroom attached that was as big as his shared room in 12. Youngki left them in their rooms to their own devices and told them he would be back for dinner.

Kim Dokja took a shower, scrubbing off all of the makeup. It was the best shower he'd ever had, even better than the train. He didn't think that was possible but the Capitol kept surprising him. It was a shock how luxurious the Capitol was compared to the Districts.

The shower had nozzles on all sides for spraying water and an auto-drying system. He could bring food to his room simply by speaking into a mouthpiece and there was a huge wardrobe with any clothes he could possibly wish for. He went with a simple black shirt and pants anyway.

Youngki called him for dinner when it was time. His and Han Sooyoung’s head stylists were there, so at least he wasn't alone with the other three. He liked Youngki enough, but he was hardly a buffer between Kyrgios Rodgraim and Han Sooyoung.

When Kim Dokja arrived at the dining room, everyone was there except Han Sooyoung. Of course. She was always the last to arrive.

Kyrgios was sitting at the table with Youngki. Secretive Plotter and who must be Han Sooyoung’s stylist were talking on the balcony. When Plotter saw Kim Dokja, he paused briefly to wave at him before continuing his conversation.

Kim Dokja took a seat at the table and denied the wine offered to him. He'd never liked how people tend to act under the influence of the stuff. He'd seen the way people acted around town and the way his father acted. He didn't want to turn into them.

Han Sooyoung arrived not long after, and Secretive Plotter and Han Sooyoung’s stylist sat down for dinner. Looking at them together, Han Sooyoung’s stylist looked remarkably like Han Sooyoung. They both had those same mischievous eyes, with a mole under one, and dark hair with bangs. Her stylist was noticeably older, though, and had long hair as opposed to Han Sooyoung’s short hair.

They were celebrating the “success” of their debut for dinner. Kim Dokja figured it wasn't exactly “successful,” there were plenty of other tributes who were more eye-catching than he was. (Notably the boy from District 2. Kim Dokja really needed to find out his name.) Apparently, the food was supposed to be fancier than normal, which Kim Dokja didn't know was possible. The luxury of the Capitol as opposed to the Districts never ceased to amaze him.

Kyrgios and Secretive Plotter turned down the wine, but everyone else accepted some. Youngki sipped it slowly and Han Sooyoung’s stylist was drinking a moderate amount, but Han Sooyoung herself was downing her drink. Kim Dokja watched part in amazement and part in disgust as she gulped her wine down. Really, a young person like her ought to have some restraint with that stuff… Is just anyone allowed to drink? Dinner had just started and Han Sooyoung's face was already red.

Han Sooyoung looked over at Kim Dokja’s water. “Oi… You not gonna drink anything…? Pussy.” She slurred.

Kim Dokja wrinkled his nose. “I have restraint.”

“Come onnnn. Live a little. You're so borrrinnnggg.”

Kim Dokja rolled his eyes. Han Sooyoung was already annoying when sober . He didn't want to deal with her while she was drunk.

Han Sooyoung ordered another glass of wine. It was already her third glass, someone really ought to stop her.

“You're going to stunt your brain development like that,” Kim Dokja said.

Han Sooyoung squinted. “No I'm nott.”

“Yes, you are. It used to be illegal for underaged teens to have alcohol way back then.”

“How do you know that?”

“I read. Unlike you, I'm sure. I doubt you're even literate.”

Han Sooyoung scoffed. “I'm lit… Liter…. Li…. I know how to read! I'm just not a nerd .”

“Actually, nevermind. I doubt you'll live long enough for your underdeveloped brain to matter.”

Youngki butted in. “Y-you read, Kim Dokja-ssi?”

Han Sooyoung scoffed at getting interrupted but decided to take that time to down more wine. Kim Dokja wondered if it was safe for her to consume that much.

“Yeah. There's not much to do back in District 12, so I spent the time reading. It helped distract from the hunger. I had a whole book collection, too.” Kim Dokja responded.

Han Sooyoung coughed. “ Nerd .”

“What do you like to read?” Secretive Plotter asked.

Kim Dokja shrugged. “I'll read anything I can get my hands on. Books aren't common, so I have to take what I can get.” He didn't mention that sometimes the ‘take’ is much more literal. “But I really like fantasies, with a main character who keeps getting knocked down and getting back up again.” Dokja’s eyes sparkled as he talked.

“Lotta good those… hic … books’re doin you now.” Han Sooyoung slurred. She was starting to hiccup.

Kim Dokja sent her a distasteful look. “Shut up and drink your wine, Sooyoung.”

Han Sooyoung tried to muster up the best glare she could, but with her red face, it wasn't doing much. “Squid.”

“Squid?” Kim Dokja said.

Han Sooyoung squinted. “You… hic look like one.”

Kim Dokja rolled his eyes but didn't deign her with a response.

For the finale of the dinner, a huge cake was brought out. It was the biggest cake Kim Dokja had ever seen. He'd seen cakes through the window of the bakery, but never one this big. It had a whole three tiers! It was white, with little frosting decorations all around. Kim Dokja was almost sad for it to be cut, ruining all of the pretty decorations. But that immediately went away once he tried it. The delicate flavors tasted like heaven . It was his first time trying something so sweet, he'd certainly never had a cake before. They're extremely rare in District 12 as they're so expensive.

Han Sooyoung's stylist finally tried stepping in to stop Han Sooyoung from drinking more wine, but somehow that turned into a drinking game between the two of them. The rest of the table ignored them.

After the cake was eaten, Youngki announced it was time to watch the replay of the opening ceremony. As soon as Han Sooyoung stood up, she fell flat on her face. Kim Dokja did nothing to help her.

Han Sooyoung’s stylist sighed. “I'll help her to her room. You guys watch it without us.”

It was impossible for Han Sooyoung to put one foot in front of the other, so her stylist practically dragged her off.

The rest of the group moved to the adjacent room to watch the replay. Many of the tributes looked absolutely dazzling. The girl from District 1 was breathtaking in a bejeweled dress that made her sparkle, but all attention was drawn from her by the boy from District 2. He looked formidable in an outfit that somehow combined armor and a suit. It seemed like an odd combination, but he made it work with a stony face. Kim Dokja guessed he could be wearing anything and he'd still look good. The girl from District 5 drew some attention, as did the boy from District 6. The girl from 9 also looked great. She looked androgynous, so much so that Kim Dokja wouldn't have known if she was a girl or boy if it wasn't for the boy standing next to her. But it was clear she was really pretty with short blonde hair and delicate features. The girl from District 11 drew a lot of attention with her striking white hair. As Kim Dokja expected, their appearance didn't draw much attention. Kim Dokja looked almost invisible next to Han Sooyoung and the girl from 11 in front of them.

There was no way anyone as boring as him would gain any attention. And that included from the other tributes, which was fine with him. Let them overlook him. They won't ever think to target someone as boring and forgettable as him.

Kyrgios Rodgraim stopped Kim Dokja on his way back to his room, which was a surprise.

“Tomorrow is the first training session. You need all the training you can get. Talk to me at breakfast.”

That was even more of a surprise. Did that mean he would actually be a mentor? Was he actually going to help? And what about Han Sooyoung?

Kim Dokja found it hard to sleep that night, scenarios of what could happen in the arena running through his head. What kind of arena would he be put in? Each Hunger Games had a different one. There should be wood, hopefully. He can make a fire with that. Hopefully, there would be easy access to water, like a lake or a river. But what if there wasn't? What was the best way to survive? All these thoughts plagued his head until he heard the knock on the door from Youngki signifying breakfast.

Kim Dokja dragged himself out of bed to get ready. He was used to having little or no sleep anyway.

Remembering Kyrgios’s request, he went to breakfast a little bit earlier than normal. Kyrgios was waiting for him at the table with his arms crossed. Kim Dokja apprehensively sat down in front of him.

“What… did you want to say?” Kim Dokja asked.

Kyrgios took some time answering, first looking him up and down multiple times. “You have a strategy, yes?”

“Of course.”

Kyrgios hummed. “During training. Don't focus on physical activities. Try to blend into the background. Make yourself look weak, but not too weak. They might think you're an easy target.”

Kim Dokja nodded.

“And… look for an ally. Do you already have someone in mind?”

Kim Dokja’s mind went to the handsome boy from District 2, but immediately thought against it. District 2 tributes usually join the careers.

He shook his head.

Kyrgios thought for a moment. “That girl is a good choice. You already know each other.”

“Absolutely not.” Kim Dokja said. He could never work with Han Sooyoung .

Kyrgios clicked his tongue. “Well find someone. And make sure you break off any alliances before the end game. Understood?”

“Yes,” Kim Dokja responded.

“Yes sir ,” Kyrgios corrected.

“I'm not calling you sir.”

Kyrgios scoffed. “Brat.”

Kim Dokja decided the conversation was finished and served himself food. A table was off to the side filled with breakfast foods, and a servant was ready to help. Kim Dokja filled his plate with various breakfast foods, including eggs, waffles, sausages, and toast, and sat back down at the table. Kyrgios sat silently with only a drink in front of him.

Sometime later, Han Sooyoung finally showed up. Kim Dokja thought she might end up skipping breakfast altogether. She looked a little pale and was wearing sunglasses with a serious expression on her face. Kim Dokja resisted the urge to snort.

Kim Dokja side-eyed her when she sat down.

“ Not a word ,” Han Sooyoung warned.

Kim Dokja bit back a smirk. “I wasn't saying anything.”

Han Sooyoung went light on the food and only drank water instead of the myriad of drinks offered. Kim Dokja had warned her against drinking too much, but she didn't listen.

Kyrgios hadn't said anything to Han Sooyoung. Was he going to wait to talk with her in private, or was he not going to give her advice like he did Kim Dokja? Kim Dokja didn't want an advantage over her in the arena like this.

The atmosphere at the table became stifling, so Kyrgios stood up, looking at both of them. “Training is at 10. Meet Youngki at the elevator by then.”

That was a good enough incentive for Kim Dokja to leave, so Han Sooyoung was left alone at the table as he went back to his room.

There was an outfit waiting for him, most likely left there by his stylist. It was a simple stretchy black fabric for both shirt and pants. Seemed easy to move in while also being just a simple outfit.

Kim Dokja took a bath to soak and think.

It'll be the first time he’d meet the other tributes in person. A lot of them seemed intimidating, and he had to choose one of them for a potential teammate.

Kim Dokja understood why Kyrgios told him to get an ally. They both knew Kim Dokja lacked in the physical strength area and didn't know how to use any weapons. An ally can help fill the gaps, but trusting anyone in the arena was difficult. It was every person for themselves. Kim Dokja was certain he couldn't trust Han Sooyoung at least.

He dressed in the breathable fabric and paced his room, waiting for it to be 10. He was glad he didn't eat much for breakfast with his nerves like this.

The tributes got a few days of training before they were assessed by the gamemakers on their skill level. It was the best time to show off your skills or learn some new ones before you get put in the arena, and it might be really useful for Kim Dokja. One of his biggest concerns was food. He wouldn't have very many sponsors to give him food, so he’d have to get food himself. Training could be useful to learn ways to hunt or gather food himself.

As always, he arrived at the elevator before Han Sooyoung. She decided to take off the sunglasses for training. It was a dead giveaway that she was hungover, and she couldn't show weakness to the other tributes. Han Sooyoung didn't talk to him as they boarded the elevator and went down to the basement of the training center, where the training would be.

Most of the other tributes were there when they arrived. It seemed like the careers were already forming a group. The boy and girl from District 1 were talking to the boy from District 2. Kim Dokja could guess what they were talking about. The girl from District 2 was talking to a girl with long brown hair and tan skin from District 3. The boy and girl from District 7 were off to the side, talking to each other. The boy from District 7 is quite big, almost like a bear. Maybe he'd make a good ally? He seemed like he might already ally with the girl from District 7. She seemed quite strong too.

More and more tributes were pouring in. The boy and girl from District 1 had stopped talking to the boy from 2 and were talking to each other. The boys from Districts 4 and 6 were now talking to him. He seemed to be quite popular, predictably. Kim Dokja had no doubt that he'd be popular with sponsors.

Most of the other tributes looked stronger and bigger than Kim Dokja. He didn't like his odds if he got into a fight with any of these people. Even a young girl from 8 seemed stronger than him, and she seemed to be about 13 years old.

Kim Dokja bit his lip, sizing up all of the other tributes. Han Sooyoung had already gone off on her own.

The tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 typically look the strongest. Those were the wealthiest Districts – the Capitol’s favorites. Even the girl from 4, a little girl who looked to be about 13, looked strong. Kim Dokja recalled that she had volunteered, same as the boy from 4. These tributes were called the Career Tributes and tended to form an alliance. Because of their advantage, they also tended to win the Hunger Games. It was likely one of these people would win again. Kim Dokja tried to commit their faces to memory.

Once all of the tributes had arrived, the Capitol attendant released all of them to begin their training. Some of them went straight to showing off. Throwing knives, lifting weights, hand-to-hand combat… They excelled at these.

Kyrgios said to stay away from physical activities, so he decided to go to the poisonous plants station. He already knew a lot of poisonous plants, but knowing what he could and couldn't eat was important. The attendant there was impressed by his knowledge.

The knot-tying station seemed fun. The attendant there seemed happy to have someone to teach. Kim Dokja knew next to nothing about setting up traps, so the attendant first taught him some simple knots. An hour later he could set a simple trap to hook animals. Kim Dokja decided to stay at the station a little longer while keeping an eye on the other tributes. As he expected, no one paid attention to him. Han Sooyoung was showing off her knife-throwing. Kim Dokja wondered if that was all she knew. The boy from District 2 was off on his own, but he had a tail following him. The girl from 8 seemed to have taken a liking to him. The boy from 4 seemed to be trying to get his attention, too. They were both ignored.

The gamemakers were there, too. Watching all of the tributes, sometimes joining stations to jot down notes. One of them only watched Kim Dokja for a little bit before getting bored and going off to another tribute.

So the next few days of training went like that. Kim Dokja focused on the more survival-focused stations and no one bothered him. He was learning useful skills, too. Kim Dokja knew the basics of lighting a fire, but he'd never actually lit one before. Execution is a lot different than just knowing how. He learned how to build a shelter, too. 

The tributes all eat lunch in the same room. It was a good way to tell what alliances might be forming. Kim Dokja wondered if the boy from 2 decided not to join the careers as he tended to eat by himself. The boy from 4 seemed to have given up on the boy from 2, as he joined the careers in eating. The boy and girl from 7 ate together. They seemed to like each other’s company a lot. The girl from 2 tended to spend her time going around and talking to people. Kim Dokja noticed she talked to Han Sooyoung but not himself.

The most interesting development, though, was Kyrgios Rodgraim. Every morning and night, he met Kyrgios in an empty room on their floor. Kyrgios trained him, teaching him hand-to-hand combat and knife skills. Kim Dokja admitted he was actually a good teacher, but the training was rigorous.

“First, we will stretch,” Kyrgios told him.

“What?”

“We will stretch. Stretching is always important before exercise.”

Kim Dokja was confused, but he followed Kyrgios anyway. They went through multiple stretches: interior shoulder-stretch, exterior shoulder-stretch, 3-point stretch, calf stretches, flamingos (Kim Dokja learned he's terrible with balance. Kyrgios yelled at him every time he fell while trying to stand on one leg), butterflies, and a bunch of other stretches. After that was the physical training.

“Get on your face,” Kyrgios said.

“What?”

“Are you a broken record? Get on your face. We're doing push-ups.”

.

.

.

“You cannot do a simple push-up?”

Kim Dokja wheezed while on the ground. “I've literally never done any exercise in my life.”

“How weak do you have to be unable to do a push-up? What a weak disciple I have.”

Kim Dokja just wheezed on the ground.

“Get back in push-up position. Put your knees on the ground. Put your butt down, stupid disciple. Now go until failure.”

“Failure?”

“Until you cannot do it anymore. Any more stupid questions?”

Kyrgios had him do that 3 times, with only a minute in between for resting.

Kim Dokja was wiped out, trying to catch his breath and drink some water.

“Now we are done with warmups.”

Kim Dokja almost spat out his water. “What?”

Kyrgios scowled. “You think that was it? No, we are just starting.”

Kim Dokja groaned.

Kyrgios focused on learning knife and hand-to-hand combat. Kim Dokja sparred with Kyrgios and got his ass beaten over and over again while Kyrgios yelled at him and called him insults. Kim Dokja wondered if it was worth it.

Kim Dokja lay on the ground, gasping for air with a bruised body and Kyrgios standing over him, scowling. “You could not win against a puppy.”

Kim Dokja groaned. “Yeah, yeah I know.”

Kyrgios shook his head. “Cockroaches learn better than you.”

“If such a cockroach exists, I want it as my teacher.”

Kyrgios glared down at him. “Do you wish to die?”

Kim Dokja just groaned in response.

“If you can give me snark, then you are ready for the next exercise.”

Kim Dokja groaned even louder.

“Get up, stupid disciple, and watch me.”

Kim Dokja acquiesced, watching as Kyrgios took out a knife. He thrusted the knife forward in a simple stabbing motion, but Kim Dokja admitted he made something as simple as a stab look elegant. Kyrgios handed the knife over to him.

“Do that a hundred times.”

“A hundred ?”

“Yes. A hundred. I would have you do more, but unfortunately, we are short on time. Were you not watching?”

Kim Dokja grumbled, getting into position and trying to copy Kyrgios’ form as he stabbed the knife.

Kyrgios adjusted his form, giving him both advice and insults with every stab. Kim Dokja stabbed until his arm felt like it would fall off.

“We are done for now,” Kyrgios announced.

Kim Dokja fell down in exhaustion.

“Go get breakfast. And hide your exhaustion from the other tributes during training. You don't want to show them any weakness. Meet me back here after dinner.”

Kim Dokja shot up. “We're doing this after dinner too?!”

“Yes, stupid disciple. You need all the training you can get.”

Kim Dokja groaned.

And so every day, Kim Dokja trained with Kyrgios in the morning, went to training with the other tributes, and then trained with Kyrgios again at night. His body felt beat up and sore every day, but he could tell he was getting stronger. After he could do 20 assisted push-ups, Kyrgios told him he could start doing actual push-ups. He eventually graduated from stabbing with a knife to slashing with a knife to actually sparring with Kyrgios. Kim Dokja doubted Kyrgios was supposed to be training him personally, but no one said anything. He eventually got to a point where he could easily throw punches and handle a knife.

Kyrgios stopped him one day before training. “The gamemakers will test you today. Show them what we've been doing.”

Kim Dokja nodded. The gamemakers tested each tribute individually to assign a value to them for everyone to see. The value ranged from 0 to 12, with 0 meaning an absolute failure and 12 being basically God. Careers tended to be strong enough to pull a high number, but Kim Dokja was looking for a more mediocre number. His skills weren't good enough for a high number, but he shouldn't get a terrible number either, which was exactly what he was looking for.

The gamemakers call each tribute into the room one by one. Since Kim Dokja was District 12, he naturally went last. The atmosphere in the room got more and more nervous as tributes were called until it was just him and Han Sooyoung.

Kim Dokja stood awkwardly next to her. “Uh… Good luck.”

Han Sooyoung scoffed. “Like I'll need it. I already know I'll get a high number.”

Kim Dokja rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

Kim Dokja was called before Han Sooyoung, so he waved her goodbye and stepped into the room.

The gamemakers were off to the side, sitting around a table. There was food on the table and glasses filled with wine. The gamemakers weren't paying much attention to him, talking with each other and drinking wine. They'd been through 22 other tributes and didn't care about paying attention. If Kim Dokja cared a little more about his score, he'd be mad. Fortunately for him, he didn't care. He wondered how Han Sooyoung would react, though.

He walked over to the knife station, picking out a good knife he could use. There were dummies available for training so he decided to slash some of them up. Slashing dummies was a lot different than sparring with Kyrgios, so he took care to make sure he didn't show off too much. He then punched a few. It was easier than he thought with a non-moving target. He even tried throwing a few knives just to get a feel of it. He didn't do amazing, but it was kind of fun. Deeming himself done, he turned towards the gamemakers. Most of them weren't paying attention, but the few who were nodded and dismissed him.

He thought he didn't do too bad.

Chapter Text

As soon as he was dismissed, Kim Dokja headed back up the elevator to floor 12. Youngki guided him to the sitting room, where Kyrgios Rodgraim looked uninterested, and they waited for Han Sooyoung to be done. Kim Dokja wondered what kind of score Han Sooyoung would get. It seemed like the only thing she could do was throw knives, but maybe she had a secret up her sleeve? As annoying as Han Sooyoung was, Kim Dokja admitted she wasn’t stupid. She might have had a plan and possibly a secret ace to pull out. The real question was if the gamemakers were sober enough to care. Han Sooyoung probably wouldn't be happy with them…

As Kim Dokja had anticipated, Han Sooyoung was fuming when she got back. As soon as she marched into the room, she slammed her fist into the wall next to her. 

“Those fucking gamemakers! They can't even fucking pay attention when my survival is on the line!” A string of profanities flew out of her mouth as she continued to curse out the gamemakers. It was colorful language for someone as young as her, but considering her vulgar personality, Kim Dokja was not surprised.

Youngki jumped up in shock. “H-H-Han Sooyoung-ssi? Wh-what happened?”

“Did you not fucking hear me? They weren't fucking paying attention to me! They were more interested in their damn drinks!”

Han Sooyoung walked over and slammed her hands down on the coffee table in front of the couch and looked accusingly at Kim Dokja.

“What about you? Are you not fucking pissed?”

Kim Dokja shrugged. “No, not really.”

Han Sooyoung looked disgustingly down at him. Or, at least, she tried, but with how short she was hunched over the coffee table, she didn't manage to be taller than Kim Dokja lying on the couch. “Do you not have any self-respect? Do you not fucking care?? These are our lives on the line!”

Kyrgios Rodgraim scoffed. “Those gamemakers don't care about you or your life. Don't expect them to.”

Han Sooyoung kicked the coffee table. “Those fucking gamemakers and that fucking Capital! Forcing us to come all the way fucking here to participate in some death fest! Fuck them and their Games! Is our suffering really so amusing to them? Do they have fun watching us fucking kill each other? I don't want to do shit for them!”

Kim Dokja whistled. “You're pretty brave to be saying all of that here.” There was no telling what the Capital would do once hearing all of that, and they were definitely listening to everything they said.

“The Capital can kiss my ass! What are they going to do? Make my life hell? They're already fucking doing that!” She kept kicking the coffee table.

“U-um…. Han Sooyoung-ssi, p-p-please c-calm down.” Youngki butted in.

“No! Fuck you! You're from that fucking Capital too! I bet you get enjoyment from this just like the rest of you sick fuckers! Is it that fun to watch me die? Are you fucking enjoying this?”

Kim Dokja sighed. “Okay, Han Sooyoung, we get it. Leave the poor escort alone.” That poor man already stuttered enough, and he looked so troubled standing there.

“No! You don't seem to be getting it!” She was now standing up on the table, hands on her hips, effectively being able to look down on Kim Dokja. “You don't seem to care about this at all! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Kim Dokja sighed again. “Of course I care, you think I want to be here? But there's nothing we can do about it. Yelling and harassing the poor escort won't change our fates.”

“But it sure as hell will make me feel better about it. And besides, I was able to do something about it.” Han Sooyoung had a mischievous grin on her face.

Kim Dokja sat up, his eyebrows raising skeptically. “Han Sooyoung… What did you do?”

Han Sooyoung’s grin turned triumphant. “Oh, nothing. Just threw a knife at the gamemakers.”

“Y-you did what?” Youngki exclaimed.

Han Sooyoung laughed. “Serves them right, not paying any attention to me. It's not like I was aiming to hit any of them, it just hit the wall next to them.”

“Wow. And you're not scared of any backlash?” Kim Dokja said.

“Of course not! What can they do? The training is supposed to be secret.”

Kyrgios looked vaguely impressed. If not having a scowl on his face for once counted as impressed. “You have some moxie to you, girl.”

Han Sooyoung looked pleased with herself. “You should have seen those gamemakers’ faces! They looked so surprised! It was so worth it.”

“You better be prepared for a pretty abysmal score, though. I thought you wanted sponsors.” Kim Dokja told her.

Han Sooyoung sighed. “It was still worth it, though. Just the price I had to pay to get my revenge.”

“You may have just ruined any chance you had of surviving with that.”

Han Sooyoung shrugged it off. “That silly little score doesn't determine everything. Someone with a low score can still win! I'll prove it!”

“I don't think anyone your age has ever won the Hunger Games, too…”

“Then I'll be the first!”

“Okay…” Kim Dokja said skeptically. If she wanted to try, she could try.

“Enough with the dilly-dallying.” Kyrgios Rodgraim said. “In two days each of you will have your live interviews.”

Kim Dokja and Han Sooyoung both nodded. The live interviews were an important event where tributes could show potential sponsors and everyone else what kind of person they were. Kim Dokja figured it'd also be a good event to look at the other tributes and see what threats he was going against or who he might want to ally with.

“So are we getting trained for how to do the interviews?” Han Sooyoung asked.

Kyrgios nodded. “The both of you will need all the help you can get.”

Han Sooyoung scoffed and rolled her eyes, but she didn't refute it.

“O-o-okay then. Y-you two can g-go back to your rooms a-and we'll reconvene for dinner later. Th-the scores will be posted a-after d-dinner is done.” Youngki said.

Han Sooyoung didn't acknowledge Youngki when she left the room. Kim Dokja made sure to say goodbye and apologize for Han Sooyoung’s behavior before he left.

. . .

Their head stylists joined them for dinner once again. Han Sooyoung had calmed down after being by herself, and she seemed to genuinely get along with her head stylist. Kim Dokja was afraid she'd make another scene and insult the stylists as she did with Youngki. But something about the stylists just seemed… different from the rest of the Capital. Kim Dokja couldn't quite name what it was, but they seemed more laid back in a way. And Secretive Plotter especially looked familiar somehow. The reason why eluded Kim Dokja, but he didn't have the time nor capacity to be thinking about that now with the Games so close. He had to focus on his survival.

Han Sooyoung got another glass of wine, but she must have learned her lesson because she didn't chug it like the first time. 

“How did the training go?” Secretive Plotter started the conversation by asking.

Kim Dokja sighed. “Don't get Han Sooyoung started on that again.”

“I haven't told a single lie,” Han Sooyoung said.

“You're going to get people in trouble,” Kim Dokja responded.

“So what did my little tribute do?” Han Sooyoung’s stylist asked.

“Threw a tantrum because the gamemakers weren't paying attention to her and threw a knife at them,” Kim Dokja said.

Han Sooyoung scoffed. “I didn't throw a tantrum!”

“Then what else would you call it?”

“I was rightfully pissed off.”

“You threw a tantrum.”

“Did not!”

“Wait, you threw a knife at the gamemakers ?” Han Sooyoung’s stylist butted in.

Han Sooyoung lifted her chin proudly. “Yup! Serves them right for not watching me like they should have.”

“I believe she has signed her death warrant,” Kim Dokja said.

Han Sooyoung ignored him.

“She likely has,” said Secretive Plotter. “The gamemakers might target her in the Games.”

Han Sooyoung’s eyes widened. “They can target me?!”

Secretive Plotter took a sip of his drink. “Of course they can. The gamemakers can control a lot of aspects of the Game. They can kill any tribute they want.”

Han Sooyoung furrowed her eyebrows, looking lost. “They wouldn’t, right? They can’t be that mad?”

“What happened to your initial confidence?” Kim Dokja teased. “I thought you were going to be the youngest victor. Going back on that already?”

“I am going to be the youngest victor!” Han Sooyoung stressed. “But if the gamemakers really want me dead…” She looked a little pale.

“They might not.” Han Sooyoung’s stylist said. “They might just figure you would naturally die and see no point in targeting you specifically.”

Han Sooyoung gritted her teeth. “That’s reassuring,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

“Regretting already?” Kim Dokja said.

“Of course not! They deserved it.” Han Sooyoung replied. She looked a little better.

The rest of their dinner went smoothly after that, and soon it was time to see what scores the tributes got. All of them moved to the next room to sit around the TV as the Capitol televised each of the tributes’ scores. They started, as they always do, at District 1. Careers tend to get high scores, and that’s what the two District 1 tributes got: a 9 and an 8. Kim Dokja had noticed that the District 2 girl and boy hadn’t joined the careers, which was uncommon. The handsome District 2 boy got a whopping 11. An 11! Kim Dokja figured he must have a lot of sponsors lining up to bet on him. He wondered what the boy did to get such a score. It was almost unprecedented. The girl got a 9, which was still pretty good. They each watched each of the tributes flash on the screen and saw what number they got. The careers each got between 8 and 10, which was common. Everyone else got much more common numbers like 4s and 5s. Kim Dokja noticed the two kids got 5s, which was pretty good for two 12-year-olds.

Pretty soon, it was District 12’s turn. Kim Dokja got a 4. Exactly what he had wanted. Nothing abysmal, but nothing outstanding either. Completely average.

He noticed Han Sooyoung holding her breath when her picture flashed on the screen. Then, next to her picture, the number 9 flashed. 9! Han Sooyoung cheered. “Hell yeah! A 9?!”

Everyone around them clapped, while Kim Dokja was confused. “Why’d she get a 9?”

“Maybe the gamemakers liked my moxie too!” Han Sooyoung grinned. Kim Dokja wondered if she knew what that word meant.

“Or maybe they want people to target you,” he retorted.

“They would have given me a higher number then. That District 2 boy got an 11, which completely outshines everyone else. He’ll probably be the one targeted.”

Kim Dokja admitted that was true.

“Alright, enough celebration,” Kyrgios Rodgraim said, as dull as always. “It’s time to discuss your training.”

“For the interview?” Han Sooyoung asked.

“Correct. Both of you need to be ready. Do you wish to be trained separately or together?”

Han Sooyoung and Kim Dokja looked at each other.

“Separately,” they said at the same time.

Kyrgios nodded. “Then we’ll discuss more at breakfast. Dismissed.”

Kim Dokja rolled his eyes. “He’s like an army instructor,” he mumbled as he left the room. At least, from what Kim Dokja knew of them from various novels.

It was another restless night. Every night Kim Dokja spent was another night closer and closer to the Games. They weren’t far off, now. Just three days away. Three days until he was out in that arena, fighting for his life. Han Sooyoung would be too. With all their bantering and teasing, it was easy to forget just where they were. They were in the Capitol. And in just three days, they would be trying to kill each other. At least one of them would end up dead by the end of all of this. They both couldn’t survive. More likely, they would both be dead. They might even end up killing each other. Kim Dokja couldn’t imagine it. Han Sooyoung, dying? By his hands? It was hard to imagine anyone dying at his hands. Could he really take another human being’s life? But unfortunately, that would be Kim Dokja’s reality in just three days. Three days…

Kim Dokja woke up still tired, but he dragged himself out of bed anyway to get ready for the day. Kyrgios was already waiting at breakfast when Kim Dokja arrived. Han Sooyoung arrived not long after. 

“The interview is tomorrow,” Kyrgios started, “and you both need to be prepared. I will be coaching you each for 4 hours, and we’ll go over your presentation and strategies. Understood?”

“Why isn’t Youngki helping?” Han Sooyoung asked. “Isn’t he supposed to, as our escort?”

Kyrgios looked over at their escort, who was eating silently at the end of the table. Youngki visibly cowered under his fierce gaze.

“I don’t believe he is qualified enough,” Kyrgios said.

“I-I c-can help! I-I’m trained to!” Youngki said.

Kyrgios didn’t even reply to him. Kim Dokja once again couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. Why did he choose to become an escort in the first place? He didn’t seem right for the job. Han Sooyoung didn’t even look at him.

Han Sooyoung went first. While Kyrgios talked to her, Kim Dokja trained in a separate room. Kyrgios advised against training too hard so close to the Games. He didn’t want his performance to be impaired by being sore. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t train at all. Kim Dokja mainly practiced throwing knives. He found out he was pretty bad at aiming. He also did a little strength and endurance training, but heeded Kyrgios’s advice and made sure not to overdo it.

Pretty soon, it was lunchtime.

When Kim Dokja arrived, Kyrgios and Han Sooyoung were already there. Han Sooyoung looked frustrated as she ate in silence, not looking at Kyrgios. Kim Dokja figured the coaching didn’t go well. Kyrgios was probably very frustrating. Kim Dokja knew that firsthand.

“How’d it go?” Kim Dokja asked as he sat down. Han Sooyoung just looked at him and scowled.

That bad, huh?

Kyrgios also looked to be in an irritated mood. At least, more so than he usually was. Kim Dokja wasn’t looking forward to having to deal with him while he was irritated.

“Miss Han Sooyoung is… difficult to work with,” Kyrgios said.

“ I’m difficult to work with?!” Han Sooyoung exclaimed. “ I am?!”

Kim Dokja figured they were probably both difficult to work with.

After lunch, Kyrgios brought him to a separate room while Han Sooyoung went to let off steam.

“I’m sure you already have an idea of what you want to do for the interview,” Kyrgios said.

“Of course.” Kim Dokja nodded.

It was the same strategy he’d been going for. Make himself seem completely average. He’d answer the questions normally, not making himself stand out in any way, but not making himself seem pathetic either. He’d be completely forgettable.

He’d also need to pay attention to the other tributes. What cards would they be hiding under their sleeves? And who could he potentially ally with?

Kyrgios didn’t do much for his training. He asked Kim Dokja questions like he was the interviewer and helped Kim Dokja adjust his answers. He also gave tips on his posture, smile, and helped him perfect his strategy. After 4 hours, he was ready.

The next day was the stylists’ day. He was handed over to them as soon as he woke up.

Uriel was most excited to see him again. It hadn’t been that long since he had seen her last, but she acted like it had been years.

“Dokja-ya!” Uriel squealed. “It’s so nice to see you again!” She hugged Kim Dokja while he stood awkwardly. Abyssal Black Flame Dragon rolled his eyes.

“Have you gotten more handsome? I think you have!” Uriel said. Kim Dokja just smiled.

“We’re supposed to be styling him, ahjumma,” Abyssal said with attitude.

Uriel gave him a look before they were both calmed down by Sun Wukong. Kim Dokja really appreciated Sun Wukong.

They didn’t do as much as they had done before. They gave Kim Dokja a good scrub, did his hair, shaved his body, gave him only one layer of lotion, tidied his nails, and painted them black. And all of this was done with a minimal amount of arguing. Kim Dokja was proud.

After they were done, it was Secretive Plotter’s turn.

“Are we going with the same look as before?” Kim Dokja asked him.

Secretive Plotter nodded while he got out the clothes he had prepared.

Soon, Kim Dokja was in a black button-up with black slacks and loafers. His hair was minimally styled, and a headband made out of gold metal was placed on his head. He was also given a golden necklace that glittered in the light. Lastly, he was given slightly more dramatic makeup, with black eyeshadow, golden flecks across his face, and a golden band on his eyelids. The gold stood out against his black ensemble, making parts of him shine. It looked like his pale skin was glowing, accentuated by the gold that would sparkle when catching the light. Kim Dokja was amazed by how Secretive Plotter was able to take a dirty District 12 runt like him and make him shine. Kim Dokja did not doubt that his look would be subtle compared to what the other tributes and even Han Sooyoung would wear, but he was surprised by how pretty he looked. It was still subtle, but Kim Dokja could not deny that he looked pretty. Kim Dokja wondered what Secretive Plotter could do if he wasn’t trying to make it subtle. Just how beautiful could Kim Dokja look?

“It looks great,” Kim Dokja sincerely told Secretive Plotter while staring at the mirror in front of him. “Thank you.”

“It was not hard to make you shine,” Secretive Plotter responded with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

Kim Dokja took a deep breath. “Ready.”

“Stay calm, you’ll do great.” Secretive Plotter reassured.

“I don’t have to do much, anyway. It’ll be fine,” Kim Dokja said.

“Exactly. Go dazzle them, but not too much.”

Kim Dokja chuckled. “I will, thanks.”

Kim Dokja met with Han Sooyoung and the rest at the elevator. Her stylist did amazing to make her shine. Her skin was covered in a gold powder, making her twinkle when she moved. Her dress was shorter in the front than in the back, with a lot of ruffles as it puffed out from her waist. The shape gave her a more curvy figure with a shorter waist, and Kim Dokja suspected pads had been added to her chest to make it appear fuller. The dress looked exquisite with a lot of layers. The bottom of the dress was black in color, and vibrant reds and oranges were added to the top. Her earrings and necklace were actually glowing, giving the appearance of fire. Her makeup was well done to make her appear older and more mature. She looked like a confident and beautiful young woman.

Kim Dokja’s breath was almost taken away when he saw her. Almost.

Han Sooyoung gave him a dazzling smile when she saw him and did a twirl. “What do you think? I look amazing, don’t I?”

“You look… passable.”

Han Sooyoung punched him in the shoulder. “Admit it. I look great.”

Kim Dokja rolled his eyes, giving in. “Fine, you look great. But just barely.”

They all took the elevator to meet with the other tributes. Kyrgios gave them one last look and told them to behave before they were lined up with the other tributes to go out on stage. All 24 of the tributes sat in a big arc on stage, overlooking the audience. The audience in front consisted of the personnel for the Games, like the stylists, mentors, escorts, and gamemakers, as well as people who paid enough to see the interviews in person. It was also being televised all over the country so that everyone could see it. Each of the tributes sat in District order, with the girls preceding the boys. They’d be interviewed in that order, too.

Kim Dokja took one last breath before they all walked single file onto the stage. The lights flashed, and cheers erupted from the audience as Kim Dokja and the other tributes walked out. He was the last tribute, bringing up the rear of the group, and no doubt the least eye-catching of them all. He gave the audience a shy smile as he walked out and took his seat.

The host of the interviews came out with a dashing smile, addressing the audience as they cheered. Kim Dokja remembered his name was Dokgak, and he had been hosting the interviews for a while. Dokgak had tan skin and red hair, styled in an odd way above his head. It defied gravity, the way it flowed up. There was a lock of hair in the front that was separated from the rest of his hair, reminding Kim Dokja of a horn. He was wearing a white flowy robe with a cape made out of black bird feathers. A necklace with massive black beads hung around his neck. It made for quite the odd look, but this was the Capitol and looks like these were commonplace.

Dokgak greeted the audience with a charismatic smile, starting the show off with a few jokes. Soon, the interviews started and the girl from District 1 took center stage. Her name was Min Jiwon, Kim Dokja found out. Min Jiwon might be the prettiest girl Kim Dokja had ever seen. She was in a marvelous flowy dress that accentuated her beauty. It seemed that was the aspect she was going for in the interview: dazzle the audience with her charm. She made herself out to be the perfect ideal girl, who was smart, sweet, and still a little humble. She blinded the audience with her smile.

After 3 minutes, her allotted time was up and it was the District 1 boy’s turn. Kim Dokja paid close attention to their names and what they said. He wouldn’t be able to remember everyone, but he tried to memorize the people who looked the most important. This boy’s name was Cheon Inho, and even after the interview, he was still quite mysterious. His eyes were cunning, and his smile looked like it was hiding a lot.

District 2’s girl was named Anna Croft, and she was quite passionate in her interview. Kim Dokja recognized that she would be a real threat in the Games.

After Anna Croft was the moment Kim Dokja was waiting for. The District 2 boy took Kim Dokja’s breath away, and it seemed even the crowd had gone silent from his beauty. He looked like a true work of art, too perfect for any human.

Yoo Joonghyuk, Kim Dokja learned his name was.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s personality was less than desirable for someone so handsome. He seemed like a real piece of work, even grouchier than Kyrgios Rodgraim. He gave short and curt answers to any question Dokgak asked him and looked to be glaring at the audience.

“What did you do to score an 11 in training?” Dokgak had asked him.

“...I’m strong,” Yoo Joonghyuk had replied. He said nothing else. Dokgak seemed to be at a loss on how to respond, but he recovered quickly.

Usually, a tribute like this would be hated for a bad attitude, but the audience was eating it up. Anything was possible with a handsome face, it seemed. People liked a bad boy with a pretty face.

The tributes went by fast, and Kim Dokja noted each tribute that seemed strong. The young District 4 female was named Iris, and the District 4 man was named Kim Namwoon. Kim Namwoon seemed crazy and bloodthirsty. He would likely be a force to be reckoned with in a battle, but he didn’t seem that smart.

Kim Dokja watched each tribute take their interview until it was Han Sooyoung’s turn. Han Sooyoung went for a sassy and confident approach to the interview. The audience did seem to be enamored with her. Kim Dokja figured she wouldn’t be without some sponsors. He was kind of proud of her. 

And then it was Kim Dokja’s turn, the last interview of the night. They would be going out with a whimper, it seemed.

It wasn’t hard for Kim Dokja to make himself seem average in front of the audience because that’s what he was: average. Just some boy from the community home whose only pastime was reading. Kim Dokja could tell that books weren’t very hot in the Capitol; he suspected some people had fallen asleep during his interview. Dokgak tried to make him look greater than he was, as was his job, but it didn’t work too well for Kim Dokja. The other tributes also looked bored, most not paying attention.

Overall, it was very successful. No one paid attention to the poor District 12 boy. He would be the last thing on everyone’s minds.

Hopefully, this would give Kim Dokja some sort of chance to win, right?