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When he was younger Kim Dokja didn’t know if his “talent” was a blessing or a skill. But even in his young age he very quickly decided that it was, in fact, a curse.
Before everything—if there was ever a “before” in his life—he could never explain what the strange flavors that constantly clogged his throat were. Around his mother, everything tasted bitter. More than the rare bits of dark chocolate his mother would give him. It was a bitterness that made his teeth tingle and the back of his throat burn like bile that ultimately wrapped back around into pain.
The answer to what he was, as it often did in his life, came in books. In a little fantasy story where the protagonist was an empath.
Empath. Empathy. The ability to share and understand the emotions of others. His mother explained that it was real, but certainly not in the ways Kim Dokja experienced it. None of what she said explained the sudden burst of piercing sour that cut through the roof of his mouth and into his nose and brain. Or the creeping sensation of saccharine sweetness that left him drooling as nausea rose from his stomach to the tip of his tongue.
Emotions left a thick, disgusting coating along his tongue and throat. Thick and chunky like spoiled milk with a taste he could never describe outside of it being “too much”.
The tastes only got worse as he aged, surrounded by vultures and carrion every walking moment. And the older he got, the harder it was to eat. Even the sensation of saliva pooling in his mouth would make him gag on the best of days. Really it shouldn’t have been a surprise how small he was as a child. Even ignoring how little food they had, he barely took a bite of any meal. His mother would coax him between bites of food Kim Dokja would ultimately refuse, pressing his lips into a thin line like a petulant baby.
Soft foods with mild, or barely there flavors were always on the table. The taste of soft tofu was something he was all too familiar with now. Just something to tide him over, so he could eat enough to not starve.
And like all things in his life the only space he was free of his constant nausea seemed to be between the words of a story. The white spaces in between each letter on his screen was as beautiful as it was clear. Scentless and tasteless. A place for him to mix his own emotions together into a new meal for him to savor. Rolling each word across his tongue like erected Kim Dokja would stretch out every story he read to stave off hunger. Diligently washing away the ghosts of emotions from his tongue with the tastes of salty excitement.
So then it was easy to fill in the blank spaces of his mind with pages. Water and glue and a page layered on another and another until his mind wasn’t just encased by his skull, but a dome protecting his snow garden, untouched and unblemished. The library of his mind was a maze where he was settled in the center, as distant as he could be.
It was only after these walls were erected that he visited his mother.
And even then the clean white walls of his pages couldn’t block all of the sour regret Kim Dokja could barely taste through the clear barrier.
Another year, another page added to his library, and another update to the sole anchor in his life. Kim Dokja was certain his library had fused into his very being. To be without this story, the story of Yoo Joonghyuk, was to then cut his head off of his body. Because what was there to protect his mind and emotions if not for the words of Ways of Survival? What did he have left?
Fear, regret, murderous intent. All of the emotions in the train became a sludge that made his throat and lips itch and his head feel as if it was filled with helium. Kim Dokja wheezed, wiping away the spit pooling at the corners of his mouth as Lee Hyunsung finally pried the doors apart.
What a horribly familiar flavor. Absurdly sour and a thin watery sweetness that did little to cover the bitter taste that coated his tongue. Some sort of aftertaste of fear that came with dying that Kim Dokja could compare only to biting into a raw tomato. The strange taught skin breaking easily and quickly becoming thin mush between his teeth.
The zombies, at least, felt nothing. If not for the overwhelming smell of blood, it would be the single rare reprieve from the world of the living.
Then, Yoo Joonghyuk himself. Kim Dokja swallowed thickly at the myriad of flavors flooding his mouth. Even with his hand on his throat, the emotions roiling off of Yoo Joonghyuk like waves tasted mild. Beautiful in their mellowness that bled into each other like watercolor or different sauces. Suspicion, though somehow smooth and delicate, and a low rumbling anger that didn’t pop or scratch at the roof of Dokja’s mouth. Low smokey exhaustion and a few more flavors Kim Dokja couldn’t put his finger on.
Kim Dokja barely stopped himself from licking his lips, his stomach growling lowly from something other than his constant hunger.
Maybe it was a blessing that Yoo Joonghyuk threw him into the sea commander.
Truly alone for the first time in his life, Kim Dokja could still taste the flavors of Yoo Joonghyuk’s emotions when the monster died. Sticky from mucus and his skin burning slightly from stomach acid, Kim Dokja wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.
Suspicion and anger and exhaustion. Somehow it just tasted like buttered toast.
There were many things about Kim Dokja that were suspicious and strange. His knowledge of the scenarios, the easy way he spoke to Yoo Joonghyuk while still seemingly being wary in the way a skittish animal was, his habit of staring at a blank phone.
The strangest, and most irritating, however, was his unwillingness to fucking eat.
Everyone had noticed it. Kim Dokja would take a few bites here and there, but never more than one maybe every ten minutes when they all ate together. He seemed more willing to shred his food to pieces and sit there, smiling as if he was doing nothing wrong, than actually put a piece of food into his mouth and chew. When Yoo Joonghyuk moved to stand before him, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, Kim Dokja just laughed. Still, with Yoo Joonghyuk watching him like an angry predator, Kim Dokja slowly but surely cleared his plate.
But when Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t around to cook, meals were difficult to come by. And Kim Dokja handed most of his food off to everyone else in the party, focusing especially on the children.
Jung Heewon watched as Dokja stayed back while everyone else ate.
“Aren’t you going to eat too?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowed. Kim Dokja shook his head, taking care to keep a hand in front of his mouth and nose. His face looked paler than usual, though as always the true details of his appearance alluded her. Did he always have such dark circles under his eyes?
“I don’t feel very good,” he replied. His voice wavered just enough, rough with exhaustion and low in timber, that Jung Heewon simply nodded. Later in the night Yoo Sangah spotted him draining bottles of nutrient drinks from the Dokkaebi Bag. She stood beside Dokja has he drank down one, and then another, pausing only when he cracked open a third—and final—bottle. She heard the Star Stream’s notifications pinging but neither of them looked to see what they read.
Yoo Sangah carefully took in Kim Dokja’s face, trying to overlay the expressions he made in her memories onto the man before her now. Thin eyebrows knit together, shallow cheeks sinking in as he swallowed down whatever drink was left in his mouth. There should be the slightest wrinkle on the bridge of his nose as Kim Dokja stood very, very still.
“Wouldn’t it be easier eat?” she asked, watching as Kim Dokja barely kept himself from gagging once the bottle in his hand was empty.
Kim Dokja covered his mouth with his hand, breathing deeply once, then twice, his nostrils flaring, before shaking his head. He raised the empty bottle and shook it. Working his jaw slightly he gasped. And then he coughed, a deep and wet noise from the bottom of his chest.
“I have some… medical issues. It makes eating a little difficult.”
“A little,” Yoo Sangah repeated. As if a man eating less than a mouse did was a small issue.
Yoo Sangah chewed the inside of her cheek. Kim Dokja must have eaten before the scenarios. She had bumped into him more than once during their lunch break, even though their departments took slightly different times off. What had he been eating? Had he been eating at all? She flipped through the album of her memories to the few snapshots of Kim Dokja that were slotted into place.
Somehow, in all of her memories, she could only see Kim Dokja curled over his phone.
It wasn’t a divine revelation that broke through the layer and smoke and mirrors, but rather Kim Dokja suddenly keeling over and vomiting in the middle of a sudden and pointless argument the party was having.
Jung Heewon had hefted him over her shoulder and everyone followed after her when she began sprinting towards Lee Seolhwa’s small office. Lee Seolhwa had stopped anyone other than Kim Dokja and Jung Heewon from coming in, resolutely closing the door.
“What happened?” Lee Seolhwa asked, quickly pulling on a pair of disposable gloves.
“We don’t know,” Jung Heewon replied, “We were talking about the upcoming scenarios and this bastard had a stupid plan again and—”
She bit her tongue when Kim Dokja heaved, rolling onto his side on the small cot and curling in on himself. One arm was pressed against his chest, the hand coming to rest at the base of his throat, while his other hand was clamped over his mouth.
“Dokja-ssi, I’m going to need you to uncover your face,” Lee Seolhwa stated. She carefully leaned down and placed a hand on one of Kim Dokja’s elbows.
His breath rattled in his lungs as he wheezed. Lee Seolhwa bent down further as Kim Dokja worked his lips.
“Could you repeat that, Dokja-ssi?”
She brushed her hair back behind her ear and practically held her breath as Kim Dokja’s breath gently grazed across her cheek. When Kim Dokja’s head fell back onto the pillow, Lee Seolhwa stood up straight.
“I’m going to need everyone to leave the vicinity,” she said, “Dokja-ssi requested it.”
Jung Heewon took half a step forward. “But—”
“Heewon-ssi. I will not ask again. Technically speaking, you aren’t next of kin or family, so for confidentiality you will have to leave.”
The two women stared at one another, and Kim Dokja gagged again. Spicy irritation was flaring into a hot anger that burned his tongue, swirling together with a nauseating mix of sour anxiety and overly salty panic that clogged his throat. The emotions in the room spiked before finally he heard footsteps and the door opening.
He held his breath, swallowing the air in his mouth until the emotions slowly dissipated, leaving only a thick film on his tongue.
“Dokja-ssi?” Lee Seolhwa asked. Kim Dokja screwed his eyes shut and slowly breathed in through his nose. As he held his breath he rose. The walls of his library were thinning, and the Fourth Wall was ringing loudly in his head as it thickened in response. Lee Seolhwa’s confusion and concern was bitter and watery like over-steeped tea.
“In a minute,” Kim Dokja rasped. He swallowed against his dry mouth. “Can I have some water first?”
Empath. Empathy. The ability to share and understand the emotions of others. Everyone listened closely as Kim Dokja carefully picked his words from the millions he had stowed away in the library of his mind.
“And you experience the emotions of others through taste?” Yoo Sangah asked slowly, a hand pressed to her chin. Kim Dokja nodded firmly.
“Yes. So it makes eating… difficult. As with being around too many people at once.”
“How have you been dealing with it until now?” Yoo Sangah asked. To that, he just shrugged with one shoulder.
“I just have.” Because how could he even begin to explain how his skull wasn’t just his own anymore? “This has been my life since I was born, I’ve learned to accommodate and live with it. And now I have a few skills that help buffer the worst of it.”
Not by his choice though. The Fourth Wall seemed to have a will of its own regarding when it would dull the flavors bursting through his tongue like an unpleasantly soft grape.
More questions, and everyone’s bubbling curiosity burst through a thin skin and washed his mouth in something sour. He coughed in a vain attempt to stop gagging, but it seemed everyone had noticed anyway as they quickly backed away. Kim Dokja swallowed thickly as spit pooled onto his tongue.
Before anyone else could speak though, the door opened and Yoo Joonghyuk stepped through the doorway. Kim Dokja covered his mouth with both hands as he coughed, phlegm catching in his throat as he coughed and coughed.
“Kim Dokja.”
Kim Dokja shook his head, wheezing before his coughing started again. A large, rough hand pulled at one of his wrists and a metal canteen was stuffed into it. But Kim Dokja could barely feel his fingers, nor when the canteen nearly slipped from his hand. There was a low growl as Yoo Joonghyuk wrapped his fingers around Kim Dokja’s, his skin a hot brand, before carefully guiding the mouth of the canteen to Kim Dokja’s lips.
“Drink,” Yoo Joonghyuk stated. Breathing heavily through his nose, Kim Dokja took a tiny sip. The water was ice cold and Kim Dokja shuddered as the sudden freeze zipped from his tongue to the tips of his fingers. Eyes clamped shut he carefully swallowed, only to then be coaxed into taking another sip. The water tasted a little salty, as if Yoo Joonghyuk had mixed in a packet of flavorless electrolytes into it. And maybe he had, though did he really need the extra minerals? Or did he transcend past that human need now?
Kim Dokja didn’t open his eyes when the canteen was pulled away from him. He simply sighed and let his head hang, only for it to land harshly on a solid shoulder. The pain was dull though and Kim Dokja could easily ignore it.
Instead, he clenched his jaw as he tasted bits of exasperation, irritation, and curiosity that were no heavier than cream on a slice of cake. Whipped and airy, it melted against his tongue.
“Where did you go?” Kim Dokja asked. Yoo Joonghyuk had vanished earlier that day after everyone had eaten. He had stared down Kim Dokja over a bowl of porridge that was smaller than everyone else's, barely moving an inch until Kim Dokja’s spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl.
Kim Dokja felt like he was going to explode when Yoo Joonghyuk took the bowl away. When was the last time he ate so much in one sitting? It was infinitely easier to eat small portions throughout the day when his nausea wasn’t as intense.
Eating around Yoo Joonghyuk was easy though. Even if Kim Dokja could barely taste the food in his bowl, Yoo Joonghyuk’s emotions weren’t wild enough to burn off his tastebuds.
Still. Yoo Joonghyuk’s demeanor seemed to get stormier and stormier with every meal Kim Dokja ate without any comment. In fact, it was after the banquet in Peaceland that Yoo Joonghyuk had suddenly started making the meals for everyone in the party. Or, he had started making meals for Kim Dokja only for Han Sooyoung to see and demand food as well, which then devolved into everyone getting involved.
Kim Dokja remembered stealing a bite of Yoo Joonghyuk’s food that night, his nose stuffed and throat tight from being around too many people at once.
“It’s delicious, right?” Lee Seolhwa had asked. But Kim Dokja had only frowned.
Texture wise the food had been wonderful. “Grilled to perfection” as some might have said. But the crowd in the banquet hall was too large, overwhelming all of his senses with burnt exhaustion and mourning that was sour the way a molded fruit was. He pressed his lips into a thin line and forced himself to swallow.
With what he hoped to be a placid smile he had simply replied, “It’s not for me.”
He had hoped that would be the end of it, but no. The very next morning Kim Dokja woke up to Yoo Joonghyuk staring him down with a plate in his hand. There was plain rice on it with rolled omelets. All together it wasn’t a lot of food, but they hadn’t scavenged or hunted anything recently either.
Kim Dokja had blinked slowly. “What?”
“Eat.”
“What?” Kim Dokja repeated. There was something spicy in the back of his nose like impatience. Yoo Joonghyuk forced a pair of chopsticks into his hands and Kim Dokja stared at the plate balanced precariously on his knees.
“You’re not going to let me brush my teeth first?”
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk growled. Kim Dokja raised both hands up.
“Fine, fine, calm down you bastard.” He prodded at the rice and eggs before carefully biting. Perfectly cooked rice that was sticky without becoming like glue and rolled omelets with just enough softness to them. But Kim Dokja let out a high noise because why the hell were they so spicy? Everything tasted like piles of black pepper were dumped onto it.
He choked down the small mouthful before rushing off to find a sink to rise his mouth. After that Yoo Joonghyuk had almost a black aura emanating from him whenever they crossed paths. Han Sooyoung had crossed her arms.
“What the hell did you do?” she asked.
“What did I do?” Kim Dokja scoffed. It wasn’t his fault the stupid protagonist was trying to poison him at every turn.
Kim Dokja shook his head, the seams of Yoo Joonghyuk’s coat digging into his forehead easily bringing him back to the present. Slowly he stood up straight, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck as he titled his head from side to the side to stretch out the tightness forming at the base of his neck.
“Joonghyuk?” Kim Dokja asked. Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t said anything yet. He was just watching Kim Dokja with a frown and a deep furrow between his brows. He would get wrinkles if he did that, assuming his perfect skin would wrinkle at all even in old age.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s frown got deeper, if that was possible. Kim Dokja moved his hand to his chest and breathed, feeling his ribs moving under his palm.
“What did you eat?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked.
“Huh?”
The two of them stared at one another.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s brow twitched. “Before. What did you eat before.”
Blinking slowly Kim Dokja hesitated to answer, the words balancing precariously on the tip of his tongue. What did he eat? He never really did have money to be adventurous with his food, even if his sense of taste was shot. What did he used to eat when his mother was still around?
“Soft foods with mild flavors,” he said slowly, “Anything I could eat quickly and not really taste… There was a point where the only thing I ate for a while was eggs and white rice because everything else made me sick.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s brow twitched and Kim Dokja pictured that plate of rice and rolled omelets in his head.
“Is there a food you like?”
What was with the protagonist suddenly asking? Kim Dokja tilted his head up to really look at him, lips pursed, but then a notification popped up in front of his face. It washed everything in his sight with a pale blue.
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ wishes to know if there is anything you don’t like.]
“Ah…” Kim Dokja read the message slowly.
“I don’t like raw tomatoes. The flavor and texture are like… there’s a fear that comes when someone is dying. It’s mixed with a dozen other emotions, but it bursts in my mouth and leaves an itchy film,” he explained, “As for what I like… I like omurice. It was the first meal I had without tasting any other emotion.”
He had been on far too many pain medications and could barely hold a spoon, but in his fluff filled mind that omurice he had after failing to kill himself somehow didn’t taste like regret.
[The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ has donated 999 coins]
“Is there anything else?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked.
“Foods I like? Or that I don’t?” Kim Dokja frowned. “Either way, I’m not sure. I never ate much in the first place, so I suppose my palette isn’t exactly refined.”
Yoo Joonghyuk just continued staring at him, and slowly Kim Dokja began to squirm, stepping away only for Yoo Joonghyuk to follow. They continued the little song and dance until Kim Dokja’s back hit a wall.
“Are you done?” Kim Dokja asked.
“There isn’t anything else?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, acting as if he hadn’t heard Kim Dokja at all. Making a face Kim Dokja jut his chin out.
“No, what else do you need?”
[Incarnation ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’ has activated ‘Lie Detection’ Lv. ???]
[‘Lie Detection’ has confirmed your words as truth.]
With a single nod, Yoo Joonghyuk then spun on his heel and left the room. His jacket fluttered after him and Kim Dokja cursed.
“Stupid protagonist,” he muttered. ‘The bastard must think he looks so fucking cool.’
‘… he did look a little cool though.’
Dinner came and went without Kim Dokja appearing, a thousand different emotions bowling him over once Yoo Joonghyuk was far away enough.
No one came to check on him, instead opting to send him messages he didn’t read. The blue light of the Star Stream’s screens pierced his eyes all the way to his brain. He spent the last daylight hours of the day curled under a blanket, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent and focusing on the smell of artificial clean linens.
The sun dipped beyond the horizon, and his headache didn’t go away. Kim Dokja clawed one hand out from the cocoon of his blankets to grope through his bedside table for headache medication when the door to his bedroom opened.
“Who the—” Kim Dokja rose quickly, one arm out of his blankets while the rest were still wrapped around the rest of his body. Who the hell was entering his room without knocking?
The hallway lights were on, and Yoo Joonghyuk’s form was as recognizable as anything else. Kim Dokja frowned at him before clumsily throwing a pillow at the protagonist.
“Bastard, haven’t you heard of knocking?” Kim Dokja muttered as he flopped back onto his bed. His entire body felt weak and he stared at the edge of his open bedside drawer, the search for headache medicine abandoned.
“I’m a bastard as you like to say,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied. His boots thudded against the floor as he approached the bed. “Can you stand up?”
Slowly, Kim Dokja curled in on himself before stretching his legs out. He tossed them over the side of the bed before pushing himself onto his elbows, then sitting up straight, his blanket still wrapped around him. He closed his eyes and sighed, not even flinching when a dry hand pressed against his forehead.
A notification ring, and Kim Dokja peered at it through half open eyes.
[The constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ is concerned about your health!]
“I’m okay,” he muttered, “Just tired.”
“You need to eat,” Yoo Joonghyuk stated bluntly. He gripped Kim Dokja’s shoulder harshly but when he pulled him up it was surprisingly gentle. Kim Dokja stumbled as he stood, leaning against Yoo Joonghyuk for a moment before he was guided down the hallways to their usual dining room. All of the lights they walked by were dim, washing everything in a deep yellow.
As they stepped through the doorway to the dining room Kim Dokja slowed to a stop.
There was a plate waiting on the table, steam rising slowly in the dim light. Kim Dokja blinked once, and then again, before rubbing at his eyes.
“Huh?”
Maybe the yellow light was making the eggs seem brighter, but the omurice on the table looked like one of the all too perfect display pieces some restaurants had. It looked nothing like the first meal he had after waking up in that hospital room.
He let himself he guided and pushed into the seat. Yoo Joonghyuk placed a spoon in his hand before pouring something hot into a cup. When he put it down, Kim Dokja could smell ginger and honey.
“Its for you,” Yoo Joonghyuk said. Kim Dokja could only laugh.
Who else would it be for?”
He gripped the spoon in a fist, his knuckles going white. He sniffed, a spice like hot peppers blooming on the back of his tongue. What flavor was that, anticipation?
[Incarnation ‘Yoo Joonghyuk’ has activated ‘Three Restraints’]
Just as quickly as it appeared, the spicy taste vanished. Kim Dokja peered at Yoo Joonghyuk from under his lashes. Yoo Joonghyuk was leaning back in his seat, arms crossed against his chest. He looked calm, but Kim Dokja could see the way his eyes shook just a little bit as he watched Kim Dokja right back.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
Spinning the spoon so he was holding it properly Kim Dokja swallowed before he could start drooling. Everything smelled good. Undeniably and completely, in a way that washed over the roof of his mouth to the back of his tongue. He could smell some stir-fried kimchi under the savory egg and the ginger tea. Did Yoo Joonghyuk make kimchi fried rice?
“I’ll eat it well,” Kim Dokja said quietly. The spoon easily cut through the thin egg and he blinked when a sudden burst of steam hit his face. The savory smell of the kimchi fried rice flooded his nose, and Kim Dokja quickly took a bite.
“Mm!” He pulled the spoon out from between his lips and quickly shoveled another spoonful into his mouth. It was hot, but the flavors rolled and melded together across his tongue. After the third one Yoo Joonghyuk reached out.
“Slow down. You’ll make yourself sick by eating too quickly.”
Flushing, Kim Dokja swallowed and put the spoon down against the plate. He licked his lips as he carefully cradled the cup of ginger tea in his hands. It was tepid now, barely steaming as he took a careful sip. The tea wasn’t bitter at all, instead leaning more towards a fresh and spicier taste that was cut through with a slight minty aftertaste and a general layer of sweetness from the honey.
“How is it?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked. There was a gleam in his eyes, something almost playful. Kim Dokja wrinkled his nose. The need to disagree, to turn his nose up just at the audacity building up.
But, it was good. Maybe the first meal he had ever experienced as any normal person would. No strange flavors crossing over the taste of the food itself as a stranger’s stray emotions fluctuated like a wave. He picked the spoon up again and carefully tore at the egg again, cutting into the rice.
“It’s really good,” he said softly. He stared at the food on his plate and added in a softer voice, “Thank you.”
How many times could this protagonist save him? Maybe one day Kim Dokja would try to count it out. Yoo Joonghyuk titled his head to the side and smiled. Not a smirk, not something so prideful, but a barely there smile Kim Dokja wished he could taste.
“You’re welcome,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied.
Kim Dokja felt his face flushing and he stuffed the spoon back into his mouth. Just as he swallowed, he could taste a new flavor on the tip of his tongue. It was just as savory as the omurice, yet not in the same charred and crispy way. This flavor was just as mild as all the other emotions Yoo Joonghyuk had tasted. But somehow it felt fuller.
What a strange emotion.
Kim Dokja couldn’t wait to taste it again.