Chapter Text
[You know, right? 5 people have been found dead! Mummified corpses, Kim Dokja. Well, desiccated remains, if you want to get technical. Anyway, every corpse has had their blood completely-]
“Han Sooyoung.” Kim Dokja panted harshly into the phone pinned between his ear and his shoulder, cursing at his past self for picking up her call. To be fair, he never knew when she called because of an actual emergency.
“Why don’t you start a true crime podcast instead of calling me when I’m at work?” In the next moment, he caught sight of a busy crowd flooding the elevator and started to sprint like his life depended on it, careful not to spill the tray of thermal coffee cups he was holding.
[Like I have time for that crap. Hey, I’m still waiting for you to send back my manuscript, you slow-ass rat.] Her sardonic and static voice tickled his ear and he instantly felt the overwhelming urge to simply drop everything he was holding and scratch it.
Instead, he continued to run for the elevator as if his life depended on it. Well, if his life had depended on it, he would have died. And, to make matters ever more miserable, the only alternative lift was out of order. A morbid sigh escaped him.
[...Err, is this a bad time?] Han Sooyoung inferred belatedly from the chaotic rustling noises coming from his side of the call.
“Since you asked, yes. It is.” He replied dryly. “Can you get to the point?”
[Yeesh! I can't even check in on you anymore?]
Check-in? He wasn't a hotel, he meant to say, but she was quicker, clicking her tongue as she added.
[Just don't dilly-dally for too long and get me my manuscript before tomorrow. I'll start deducting from your pay.]
“You don't pay me.” He reminded her with scoff while deftly opening the door to the stairway with his hip.
[Hey, what about those chicken wings you stuffed yourself wi- No, never mind. Hey, just keep in mind that it’s dangerous out there, even for an ugly squid like you.]
Han Sooyoung had the most roundabout ways to show concern.
“Don't worry. I’ll send you the edited stuff in the evening.”
[Send me a text when yo-]
Beep.
“Haah…”
It was liberating to get off the phone, or rather, to get Han Sooyoung’s nagging voice off his eardrums. It gave him a couple of silent seconds to realize that he had to brave 6 flights of stairs before getting to the floor of the meeting. Kim Dokja’s sedentary soul withered at the thought. There was no way he wouldn’t be a sweating and panting mess at the end of this ordeal.
And for what?
A meeting abruptly moved 1 hour earlier. Incidentally, the location suddenly changing to some distant and obscure conference room at the other end of the building, and then, Kim Dokja was sent on a gopher assignment to fetch coffee at the busiest time of the day as if he were some intern and hadn’t been at Minosoft for over a year now. Coincidentally, Han Myungoh happened to be in charge of the meeting, as well as the one who sent Kim Dokja on a last-minute errand and the one who failed to inform him of the meeting's new time and location.
Maybe all of this could be dismissed by the less astute observer as a mere sequence of unfortunate events. And had the person responsible for it been anyone but Han Myungoh, Kim Dokja himself might have entertained the idea that it was just bad luck – a commonplace thing in his life, really.
“Just a few more months, then I’ll be free.”
I’ll be unemployed, he backtracked mentally.
He bit his lip, silently dragged himself up the stairs, and, finally finding the room, tamed his breathing and the wild thumping of his heart before pushing through the door.
“And for the upcoming collaboration with Star Stream Ent- oh, look at that. Finally you decided to join us, Dokja-ssi. I was starting to lose hope you’d come today.”
“Myungoh-ssi.” Kim Dokja returned dryly, hating how his head automatically bent ever so slightly downwards like an obedient gopher. “Sorry for being late.” he muttered under his breath, feeling anything but apologetic.
Like a pleased weasel, Myungoh’s mouth curved unpleasantly upward at one end, likely satisfied at the sorry state Kim Dokja was in. But before he could come up with any more petty ways to publicly degrade him, a woman stood swiftly up from her seat and sprinted towards the entrance, her long chestnut hair swaying with each soft tap of her feet.
“Dokja-ssi! Thank you for the coffee!” Yoo Sangah cried cheerfully, “I heard the café downstairs is so busy today. You must have waited ages for all of those… no wonder you’re late! Here, let me help you with that.”
Yoo Sangah swept the tray of thermal cups from him and began distributing them around the table, people letting out ‘thank yous’ here and there. Of course this gratitude was for Yoo Sangah and not Kim Dokja.
“Thank you, Sangah-ssi.” He smiled softly at her as she came back to place the tray by the counter, and she returned a discreet smile of her own, winking conspiratorially at him. Within these walls, Yoo Sangah was truly his one and only ally.
“Ahem.”
They both looked towards the indignant sound.
“Did you forget I am presenting?” Han Myungoh shot Kim Dokja a vicious glare – or as vicious as a little weasel-man like him could muster, and not very impressive by Kim Dokja’s glaring standards. Then, as though remembering something, Han Myungoh’s gaze changed into a different sort of _vicious_, and Kim Dokja knew something bad would follow.
“Ah, Dokja-ssi. Did you remember to send me the files I asked?”
Immediately, he frowned. What the heck was he on about?
At his lack of response, Han Myungoh’s face morphed artistically into a pinched expression.
“Oh, maybe you forgot…?”
“What do you mean?” the other blurted out in genuine confusion.
Han Myungoh let out a sigh.
“I explicitly asked you to send me the data from last years campaign, don’t you remember?”
“What?”
What dat-
Then it clicked.
Oh.
Kim Dokja felt his heart sink unpleasantly. Of course, Han Myuongoh had never actually asked him for that, but who would believe his word over the department head’s own?
His colleagues quiet, judging stares only served to aggravate his anger.
This weasel bastard.
“I’m sorry, but I think there has been a misunderstanding, Myuongoh-ssi. I don’t remember-.”
“Hm, I guess you must have forgotten…” Han Myungoh interrupted, ignoring Kim Dokja’s reply.
If there exists a mantra for preventing one from committing murder, Kim Dokja was desperately reciting it.
Nothing good comes from sticking your head out, he reminded himself. Just endure it.
Maybe he would have just quietly let himself be bullied into submission, since that generally meant less troubles. But then again, he caught sight of how the corners of Han Myuongoh’s mouth twitched, eager to curl into a smirk, and he had to slap that look right off of his damn face.
“Myuongoh-ssi,” Kim Dokja brushed his bangs back, his dark and clear eyes, normally half-hidden by his hair, became visible and so did the derisive look directed at Han Myuongoh, “I’m afraid you’re the one with a bad memory. You never asked me for anything other than the coffee, which is sitting right there. Maybe check your memo pad?” His voice was levelled but the edge of it was clear. The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift from tense to edged.
Han Myungoh’s mouth gaped slightly, almost too surprised to be angry. As though Kim Dokja’s defiance was the strangest thing in the world to him.
“D-Dokja-ssi… Ahem, let’s not make a scene out of this, ok? Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Then next time, please make sure to remember who you asked the favor of as well, Myuongoh-ssi. This is quite worrisome.”
“Y-you-“
“Ah, I heard knitting helps to offset cognitive degeneration. In case you’re interested.”
Han Myuongoh’s catatonic state was promptly overcome when a couple of muffled laughs and nervous coughs emerged.
“T-that’s! How dare you talk like that to your superi-!”
“Ah, excuse me Han Myungoh-ssi! Here is your share.” With one fluid motion, Yoo Sangah, the unofficial diplomat, quickly swept into the dangerously heated discussion with impressive ease, pushing a cup of coffee into Han Myuongoh’s grasp. “Also, if it’s last years files, you can easily access those through the archive in the cloud folder, Myuongoh-ssi. We recently updated the folders, remember?”
Too dumbfounded to answer immediately, Yoo Sangah simply smiled at him.
“I think since everything is settled now, we should continue the meeting. Didn’t you say you had urgent business to attend to soon? That’s why we moved the meeting so suddenly, remember? It would be terrible if you missed your important appointment with Star Stream Eternprise.”
Yoo Sangah’s smile might have seemed the most inoffensive thing to anyone else. But Kim Dokja could easily see that it did not reach her eyes.
Han Myungoh’s operational system seemed to crash for a moment as he looked at her in awe. Then, he coughed awkwardly, ignorantly charmed by her calculated move.
“Ah, of course, you are right. As always, Sangah-ssi. An exemplary employee, if ever I have seen one.”
“Not at all, Myungoh-ssi.”
Kim Dokja didn’t manage to contain himself and rolled his eyes at the man’s simple mind but Han Myungoh was too busy staring at Yoo Sangah’s retreating back to notice.
“Ah, right.” Just as Kim Dokja was finally about to sit down, Han Myungoh spoke, “Dokja-ssi, before I forget, I’ll have to ask you to stay a bit later today to pick-up where I left off.”
Kim Dokja considered the consequences of murder.
***
It felt paradoxically as though the day had both dragged on and swept by all at once.
“Dokja-ssi, let me stay and help.”
At around 5 pm, Yoo Sangah had rushed to his cubicle and now begged for the umpteenth time to help with the overtime Han Myungoh had sentenced him with.
“You can’t possibly work on this alone. I’ll talk to Myungoh-ssi-"
“No, Sangah-ssi, it’s alright. You should go home and rest. It’s been a long day.” Besides, the weasel had left hours ago for the meeting and never checked back in. And if he found out Yoo Sangah had stayed to help, it would only be like pouring oil into the fire.
She shot him a mix of a worried and incredulous look. “But Dokja-ssi, you’ve had a long day too. Longer even! You should rest.”
In truth, he had also done overtime the day before, a fact she fortunately wasn’t aware of. He could only imagine what horrible state he was in, considering how he felt like a walking corpse.
“Don’t worry Sangah-ssi. I’ll just do what I can within reason and then go home. Believe me, I’m not a workaholic.”
If anything, he was the opposite. A procrastinator sentenced to meet deadlines.
He shot her an unlucky smile and she could only sigh dejectedly.
“I don’t understand why Myungoh-ssi is so unfair to you. And to force you to go through these files so suddenly! He should have prepared this beforehand.”
It was good that she had no idea she was the cause of this. Let it keep being this way.
In the split of a second Yoo Sangah’s expression shifted from a somewhat cute pout to a chillingly cold look, as she began muttering some pretty scary and illegal things.
“Maybe I should put a laxative in his coffee next time.”
A loud, frantic cough escaped Kim Dokja at that dark slip of tongue.
“Oh, my! Dokja-ssi, are you alright?”
“S-Sangah-ssi, what was it again that you said you wanted to give me?”
“Oh, right.”
Suddenly, she inserted herself into his cubicle and put her large purse on his desk, rummaging through the stuff inside.
Kim Dokja looked on, awaiting an explanation.
“You know, Dokja-ssi, it’s been really dangerous around these parts lately.”
He looked up at her from his chair not sure what she meant. Then, he recalled the phone-call he had with Han Sooyoung.
“You mean those murder cases?”
She shook her head vigorously like her neck was a bouncing spring.
“Yes, those! It’s such a ludicrous idea to have you stay late when it’s been so dangerous out there!” She fell back into her angry rant. “I should give Myungoh-ssi a piece of my mind-“
“Well, I am a man and I heard they target attractive people, anyway. Frankly, Sangah-ssi, I don’t think I need to worry that much about it.” He shrugged with a soft chuckle, trying to change the subject before she went and kicked Myungoh’s office door down in a fit of rage.
But he really meant it. An ordinary looking guy like him would never be the target in these types of cases. That is supposedly the fortunate thing about being plain-looking.
However, at his honest comment, Yoo Sangah turned to shoot him an incredulous look.
“W-what is it?” he felt the need to ask after a stretch of silence.
“Dokja-ssi, sometimes I really worry about you.”
“Eh?”
“Well, besides that, you should know that you being a man or not doesn’t really matter here. There were 2 young men who were killed.”
He was slightly surprised at that.
Frankly, he only knew as much about this as Han Sooyoung had told him, and since she had painted the culprit’s picture in his mind as a pervert… Anyway, he didn’t have much to go by other than the phone-call from earlier.
At that he suddenly felt a metallic cylinder being pushed into his hand.
“So, if only for my sake, take this with you to ease my mind.”
He looked at the item in his hand feeling a little embarrassed and back up at the gentle woman’s soft but worried smile.
Then, he sighed and returned a defeated smile of his own.
“Alright, if that will make you go home before it gets darker, then I’ll take it, Sangah-ssi.”
She snickered as she gathered her things and made her way out. “Don’t worry about me, Dokja-ssi. I’ll be home in half an hour on my bike!”
… Didn’t she live even further away than him?
If he had half of her stamina, life might be much easier.
Instead, he was cursed with a noodle-like body.
***
Kim Dokja had the full intention of leaving earlier than the last train, but he dozed off at the end of his shift, becoming essentially dead to the world.
Miraculously, Han Sooyoung’s spamming messages non-stop served as an alarm and woke him up just in time for him to realize he was screwed. He sprinted out of the office like the sky was about to fall down on him, not wanting to miss the last train.
Of course, his phone battery had died just as he caught sight of a list of obscenities and threats Han Sooyoung had texted him. He debated internally whether or not that was a good thing.
While Kim Dokja did feel slightly bad for not replying, it was beyond his power now. Instead, he focused on running or wobbling down the eerily dark and empty streets of Seoul in hope of reaching his transport in time.
“G-goddammit! Hah, hah, why are there so many stairs?! Was this really necessary?!”
He felt his legs tremble pathetically as he dragged himself up the steps with increasing difficulty, physically regretting not just going by the flat terrain of the main road.
“O-ok, l-let me, hah, just catch, ha, my breath…”
His ears were almost ringing from the overtasked blood circulation and the violent thumping of his heart. He was in embarrassingly pathetic shape.
Sangah-ssi might be onto something with the biking to work thing…
Well, first, he needed to get a bike, or rather, enough money for a bike. In any case, as someone whose life consisted of sitting at a desk at work and at home, Kim Dokja couldn’t have expected much from himself.
I swear to God, if I make it to the train, I promise I will go to the gym, so please…
He took a few wobbly steps at the top of the stairs, ready to resume his sprint.
Then, he paused.
Rather, the alley before him - the path he had to cross - suddenly forced him to a halt.
A single lamp struggled to light the dark and deserted alley, and it just happened that it had a flickering bulb. It did a singularly terrible job at illuminating the place he needed to pass through, but a fantastic job at turning it into a perfect scene out of a horror movie.
As if on cue, Han Sooyoung’s voice echoed in the back of his mind.
Mummified corpses. Desiccated remains, if you want to get technical.
Kim Dokja’s jaws tightened.
Goddammit, Han Sooyoung and her damn true crime rigmarole.
A sudden foreboding washed over him as he took in the eerie scene, the unpleasant, moldy smell, the cold dampness.
He felt the irrational urge to run away from there like his life depended on it and not look back. The kind of inexplicable itch at the back of one’s neck. Almost as if his instincts were screaming at him not to go there, to turn around and leave while he could.
...What’s this? I’m afraid? ... Of what? A flickering light?
He scoffed at himself, attempting to shame his fear into submission.
No, no, no. Don’t be an idiot.
“OK, get yourself together, Kim Dokja. It’s just a bad bulb. Are you gonna let a bad bulb stand between you and TWAF’s latest update? You’ll lose the damned train and have to walk for over an hour, likely in the rain. Do you want that? No, you don’t. Just keep walking, keep walking.” He soliloquized, ignoring the feign chill up his spine and goosebumps on his arms.
Kim Dokja was not one to be easily frightened.
Or at least, he hadn’t been for a long time.
Yet, he felt it as clear as day now. A dark foreboding clinging to his heart like a persistent cobweb, so light and thin you barely feel it, but its touch chilling to the bone.
That was the familiar shadow which had singularly governed much of his youth and nearly consumed him whole during his school days.
He had seen its face before.
Spying through the cracked door of the closet, when his father thrashed his helpless mother. When he tired of her and dragged him out of the closet. When he looked him in the eye before his fist connected with his face.
He recognized the gaze on him then. The same gaze he felt now.
Kim Dokja inhaled sharply, stiffening and gripping the satchel of his bag with trembling fingers.
Stop with this nonsense, brain. Stop it. There’s nothing here. There’s nothing here. Think happy thoughts. Puppies, unicorns, flowers, TWAF updated today, Han Sooyoung sent me a script- Wait, that’s not a happy thought.
The street seemed empty, and it seemed too narrow for anyone to properly hide anywhere, unless they were inside that garbage container, which Kim Dokja decided not to think about. He knew it was unlikely, yet the irrational part of his brain kept imagining all kinds of ridiculous scenarios, most of which involved him being gruesomely murdered.
And then, he suddenly became sure. He felt it as though a slap on the back of his head.
Someone was watching him.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Without regard for pride or dignity, he quickened his pace, a dangerous gambit, considering that the blinking light had pretty much left the alley an abyssal void of darkness. Almost as a matter of course, what followed was a horrifying sequence of events.
Kim Dokja hooked his right foot on something, tripped, fell spectacularly on his face and scraped his palms into the pavement, leaving them a cut-ridden mess.
“Aaghh… Shit… What the…” He cursed, forgetting himself for a moment. He instinctively turned his gaze to glance back at what had made him trip and his heart lurched in his chest.
A leg.
To be precise, an outstretched leg.
“?!”
The blood drained from his face as he traced the leg up to a body, praying to all and any gods that this would not be what he thought it was.
“A-a person…” he observed, warily.
Then, to his immense relief, it seemed to be your average sleeping drunkard.
“Gosh…” Kim Dokja cried in a mixture of relief, mortification and utter embarrassment. “It’s because Han Sooyoung kept talking about this, my mind’s always going there now… Gosh… “
He got up, patted the dirt off himself and approached the passed out man with reluctance, gently shaking him by the shoulders, calling out to him politely. After a few tries, the gentle shaking evolved into a rather forceful tapping of the drunk’s admirably firm cheeks.
“Excuse me, sir. Hey. HEY. Are you alright?”
This was all he needed now. To come across some drunkard in some creepy alley. He couldn’t even leave the damn guy sprawled on the street in good conscience, considering the current murderous spree around Seoul.
“Sir. Sir! Please wake up, I’m gonna miss my train….”
Who passes out in the middle of a garbage heap like this? And he even looks so young, tsk, tsk…
While rhythmically tapping the guy’s cheek with increasing force, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he realized that this wasn’t your average drunk.
What the hell, is this guy some celebrity?
A perfectly, handsomely chiseled face. Like a living statue carved by the gods themselves. Sharp jaws, angled brows, straight nose. If he wasn’t literally tapping the man’s cheeks, he would think this might be a statue.
No, this guy’s looks could slap most celebrities multiple times in the face.
He must have been around the same age as himself, maybe a little younger. It was hard to be sure. It was also strange that someone so drunk didn’t have the smell of alcohol all over him. Kim Dokja couldn’t catch a whiff of it, and he was very sensitive to that scent. In some dark recess of his mind, he was thankful for having been spared the stench of it.
“Okay, mister. This is starting to hurt my hand.”
Losing his patience and realising he had probably already lost his ride home, Kim Dokja decided to take it out on the man’s firm cheeks, tapping them with a vengeful force.
“Hey, hey, why did you have to pass out here, huh? I can’t stay here all night. Some of us need to get home and wake up early tomor… uh?”
He paused.
That was strange. How drunk do you have to be to remain completely knocked out even at this point?
Throughout all of this, the handsome stranger’s face had remained unmoving.
In fact, so had the rest of him. No single flinch.
Kim Dokja’s jaws suddenly tightened and he reluctantly placed a finger just beneath the man’s nose. When he didn’t feel any signs of breathing, he quickly retracted his hand. Feeling a surge of panic, he fumbled for the man’s jugular. It was both through the prolonged contact with the cold skin and the complete lack of a pulse that he realized…
“…Holy sh-.”
He was dead.
Kim Dokja threw himself back, falling on his butt.
A single, cold raindrop fell on his cheek, trickling down to his chin, but Kim Dokja did not even flinch.
He really had stumbled upon a dead body? Literally, even.
“Shit.” He repeated intelligently in a half-whisper. Shit. Shit. I need to call 119… uh, or is it 112?? Shit…
What luck. What was the probability of something like this happening? Had Seoul become a place where one could just trip over a dead body, just like that?!
Somehow, he was convinced Han Sooyoung’s incessant prattling helped materialize this situation into reality.
Jumbled thoughts tumbled about his head, but one thing suddenly stuck out to the forefront of his mind.
Wait, he isn’t a mummy.
No, shit? Was mummification the only valid way to be murdered nowadays? He admonished himself mentally.
Kim Dokja shuddered, fingers fumbling in his pocket, reaching for his phone with increase panic.
“Calm down, calm down, I need to call-“
Ah, but my phone is dead.
It was along with this realization that something extraordinary happened.
In the split of a second, the world turned upside down. Literally.
“Wha-?!”
His shirt collar was grabbed from behind and he was thrown to the ground with such force that the impact to his back knocked all air out of his lungs.
“Ack! Wha-keok!”
Before he could catch his breath he was hauled from the ground and this time, slammed against the alley wall, the little bit of air he had to spare knocked out of him again.
“Gasp!”
What the fuck is happening…!
This was probably what clothes in a tumble dryer felt like.
Then, it stopped abruptly.
Kim Dokja coughed violently and felt the pain in his back too vividly before he managed to refocus his eyes and realize the situation he was in.
The should-be-dead-or-drunk celebrity was currently thrashing him around.
“What the fuck.”
The corpse, or rather, the apparently very alive man regarded him coldly for a moment before speaking.
“Who are you?”
Kim Dokja answered as best as he could in this situation.
“Who? M-me?”
That didn’t seem to be what his aggressor wanted to hear.
The grip on his shirt collar was tightened to the point that it started half choking him.
“Ack! Wai-” Kim Dokja yelped helplessly.
“Answer me. I asked who you are. What did you do to me?” he growled, the choking getting worryingly tight. “If you wish to live, tell me.”
What the fuck, this psycho-! Kim Dokja aimed a sharp and angry kick at the man’s leg, but found that to have been a grievous mistake when it felt like his foot had rammed full-force into a literal concrete wall.
“AGH- OUCH!”
It also seemed to have zero effect on the guy.
Now that the man was pressing him against the wall, effectively towering over him (and mind you, Kim Dokja is not short at all), he also realized the lunatic was pretty damn muscular. Compared to his noodle-limbed-self, Kim Dokja was, to put it mildly, fucked.
“Agh… ugh, w-wai- I haven’t done anything, I swear….!”
Did slapping his cheeks count as doing something? Not that he would admit to slapping him now.
Before Kim Dokja finished pleading, the pressure choking him began to ease until it disappeared.
He bent forward, sliding against the wall, collapsing on his butt and falling into a violent coughing fit, gasping and gripping his throat to make sure the maniac hadn’t actually crushed it.
Shit, what the actual fuck just happened…
With haggard breaths, he looked up, expecting to meet the crazy bastard’s murderous gaze staring down at him.
Instead, what he saw was the man stagger backward while covering his face with a scarred hand.
“Haah, dammit…” the lunatic murmured, “It wasn’t… It wasn’t enough…”
Kim Dokja watched this scene warily, realizing suddenly the dangerous situation he was in. But he was too afraid to make an abrupt move yet and not at all over his lack of oxygen.
What the hell is wrong with him…
Whatever might be the case, this was probably the best moment for him to get the hell out of there.
But as he motioned to get up, his wrists were harshly grabbed and he was once again pinned to the wall, now with both hands flanking his head.
“Ugh!”
“Do anything funny… hah…. and I will kill you.”
He did not doubt that.
For a horrifying moment the man simply stood still with the terrible effect of the flickering light aggravating his features. Kim Dokja froze under his glare like a deer in the headlights.
Then, the man’s face hovered closer, too close for Kim Dokja’s comfort. He tried to look to the side, but the man growled. “Don’t look away.”
What the hell is this freak doing?!
How could he possibly break free from this maniac? It seemed like the bastard was barely putting any effort into his grip, yet Kim Dokja couldn’t even make him budge. He never regretted being so weak as he did now. Maybe headbutting him would be an option, but considering the throbbing in his toes, that wasn’t a gamble he was willing to take.
Anyway, let’s try to talk it out…
“Ahem, h-hey, listen here. I don’t know what you’re so angry about, I was just trying to wake you up. You drank so much that you passed out in the garbage dump, you know. And I don’t have anything worth stealing – just look at my satchel, take whatever you want- but my phone is old, don’t take it, please. Also, I missed the last train becaus-“
“Shut up.”
Kim Dokja shut up.
Then, a sudden glint of golden light emerged from the man’s left eye.
Kim Dokja’s shut mouth now gaped slightly in surprise.
“What the hell is that-“
In the meantime, the golden eye searched his face voraciously, seeking something.
The man’s breath had become more haggard, even though he had seemed fine just a moment ago when he decided to make Kim Dokja into his personal thrashing bag. For a foolhardy moment, Kim Dokja thought he could break free and run. Maybe his concrete like skin didn’t extend to the space between his legs.
As though he had read his mind, the man’s eye met with his own and he spoke again in a low, menacing tone.
“If you want to live, don’t move.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
That worked well enough and Kim Dokja went as stiff as a pole.
Was this how he died? At 28, killed by some random wacko wizard on some obscure, dark alley? No achievements in life? No girlfriend, no family… It wasn’t like anyone would miss him, anyway. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. In fact, this was actually fitting, wasn’t it? A fitting ending to his overdue expiry date.
…
But then again, he really wanted to read that new chapter.
***
The man’s condition grew worse by the minute.
His breathing became increasingly haggard.
He felt an itch in his throat.
It had all begun when this human started fumbling around him with his bloodied hands. He had woken up shortly after that ruckus. The scent of something sweet wafting just below his nostrils, like an electric current, had jostled him awake.
Even though I should have fallen into a deep sleep from my wounds…
The man searched the human’s face.
A pale, lanky and unremarkably ordinary face. Big eyes and bigger eyebags. A sickly looking human who didn’t even possess the average amount of strength expected in a child.
How did he manage to wake me up?
Subconsciously, his grip on the human’s wrists tightened and the other let out a yelp.
“I won’t ask again.” He began, feeling the prickling sensation of his growing fangs, “Who are you?”
Despite the hopeless situation, the human, surprisingly enough, glared back at him with renewed vigor.
“Isn’t it basic manners to introduce yourself first, before asking for people’s names or beating them up, at least?”
The man regarded the mortal with a faint sense of amusement, perhaps somewhat impressed with his resilient spirit. Most humans would be in tears, trembling, begging for their lives. Was he fearless? Or just foolish?
Yes. A simple fool with no sense of danger.
Leaning close enough so that the human could feel his metallic breath on his cheek, the man spoke in a low, husky voice.
“Then, you can die.”
In an instant, he dove his fangs straight into the nook of the panicked human’s neck.
“Wha- w-wait!” the other stuttered in protest, but by the time the words tumbled out, it was already too late.
The man’s sharp fangs pierced the other’s pale neck, and a loud, shuddering gasp escaped the writhing human.
“Agh! S-stop….”
The stranger… no, the vampire ignored his victim’s pleas, easily overpowering his thrashing. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the other succumbed to the poison and stopped resisting.
However, one thing he did not expect.
This blood…
It was delicious.
No, rather, it was beyond delicious.
Sublime.
The vampire thought in a daze,
This is…
He was starved. Starved and dying. And that certainly must have enhanced the taste. Yet, it was obviously more than that. And to think he would come across such a powerful elixir just as he was about to…
Was this truly just a phenomenal coincidence?
The vampire’s grip tightened and a tantalizing scent suddenly wafted between them.
As though electrified, the vampire felt a chill up his spine. He pushed the human further into the wall, pressing himself against him and deepening the bite while the latter gasped helplessly.
Then, as though regained his wits, the vampire stopped himself, pulling away from the human’s neck abruptly, leaving the other to tremble and gasp for air, only sustaining himself by the vampire’s hold now.
Moving closer to his face, the vampire hissed into his ear, “What is your name?”
The human’s eyes trembled, glazed over from the bite, his breaths haggard and his face flushed. Almost as in a hypnotized state, he answered obediently for the first time.
“Kim… Dokja…”
Slowly, the vampire loosened his grip on one of the man’s wrists, grasping his chin to tilt his face upwards.
“Earlier. What did you do to me?” The vampire demanded.
How did you awaken me?
Who sent you here?
How was he awoken when he should have fallen into a hibernating state?
The human… Kim Dokja’s eyes were unfocused, his pupils blown up from the rush, but he seemed to be making an effort to remember. Though it became clear it wouldn’t amount to anything. In fact, the vampire had little hope of getting much else coherence out of him now. When the humans reach this stage, they’re already too far gone.
“Tch…”
I didn’t mean to inject so much.
Then, to his surprise the human answered.
“I slapped you.”
The vampire froze. He didn’t believe what he heard so he blurted out.
“…You what?”
Kim Dokja repeated in a daze.
“I slapped you. A lot.”
The vampire's hand went instinctively to his face. So that was why he felt a slight tingle on his cheek.
For a silent moment, the vampire contemplated throttling the human.
Instead, he silently regarded the human’s distant gaze before sighing and letting go of his other wrist.
How could he have lost himself so easily to his hunger?
How pathetic. Acting like some bottom feeder. Tsk.
If she had seen this humiliating display, he would certainly never hear the end of it.
Going by the way the human looked, he must have released too much of the anesthetic. He might have been injured – gravely, even – but that was no excuse to lose control. It never was.
It’s because I am like this that that bastard managed to-
Then, it happened.
The vampire, who never in a million years foresaw this development, was completely unprepared for the humiliation that followed.
Click.
Swinging a small, metallic cylinder right in front of his face, Kim Dokja pressed down on the spray button.
Immediately, the vampire’s vision went red, his sharp senses overwhelmed by the strong, spicy scent. He felt his eyes and nose burning as though someone had just splashed liquid fire on him.
“You fucking… perverted… bastard!”
“Ugh!” The vampire fell to his knees, hands hovering over his closed eyes.
T-this is…?!
In the darkness that followed his tightly shut eyes, he heard the disoriented rustling around him, the frantic gasping and the sound of running.
“D-damn you… wait!”
Through the slits of his eyes, the vampire could see the blurry shadow of the damned human sprinting away and out of the alley.
“Kim… Dokja…!” He demanded pathetically, reaching for the empty air with the bulging veins in his temples threatening to explode. “You bastard… I will kill you!”
But when the pain had soothed somewhat and he finally managed to open his eyes and see again, Kim Dokja was long gone.