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“A love spell penalty.” Dokja deadpans, trying not to pay attention to the hand currently clasped within his own.
Or its owner, currently seated by his side, uncharacteristically quiet even for your standard run-of-the-mill brooding protagonist bastard.
“Who the hell told you to never shut the fuck up, huh? We were keeping it under control until you barged into the building yelling his name for the entire world to hear–”
“Shouldn’t he have immunity for this sort of thing?” Dokja quickly interrupts, daring to glance toward Yoo Joonghyuk. He observes him for a pause before finally giving in to the urge and grabbing his face, turning it this way and that under the warm light.
Nothing appears out of place, he thinks, slightly relieved. Then it quickly dawns that Yoo Joonghyuk on any normal day would have bitten his head off if he tried this sort of thing, and the little found relief dissipates into dust.
“So he’s gone stupid?” He asks Han Sooyoung with a crestfallen look. Dammit, he’d just gotten the key to an underground dungeon that could have used the bastard’s help. It’s bad enough that he’s had to ask Biyoo to close his channel temporarily — he might be a swindler, but he’s not willing to broadcast whatever the hell this is for all of the constellations to witness. He does value his life, after all.
“I’m not stupid.”
The two glance back at Yoo Joonghyuk. He’s looking straight at Dokja, who returns his gaze with a blank expression before finally opting to give him a consoling pat on the arm, shooting Han Sooyoung a glare that demands answers.
Sooyoung rolls her eyes, resuming spinning a dagger between her fingers. “He seems fine, doesn’t he? Seolhwa thinks it’s something like a psychological imprint. Think of him like a newly hatched duckling. You’re the asshole who cracked his egg, now you gotta face your own actions and take care of the idiot.”
Dokja gives Joonghyuk another long look, finding it exceedingly hard to cast Sooyoung’s duckling imagery onto the broad-shouldered protagonist.
Even Han Sooyoung snorts.
“I didn’t crack his egg,” Dokja mutters, wincing as Joonghyuk proceeds to take his hand back, lacing their fingers together before laying them back on the couch.
He tries not to think about the slight guilt that came at the mention of Lee Seolhwa, quickly pushing it to the back of his mind. “How long is this going to last?”
“Another, what–,” Han Sooyoung turns towards the mounted clock. “Eighteen hours? You know what, just lock him in his room if you don’t want to see him. Or knock him out. Whatever works.”
He has to admit he’s extremely tempted, but the timed key in his inventory calls for alternate measures.
“That’s fine. Hey, Yoo Joonghyuk.”
He didn’t even have to call for his attention, he realizes; the bastard’s eyes are pinned on him. A little unnerving, without that murderous tint that usually accompanies it.
He pulls out the key from his inventory, dangling it in the air as he asks, “Want to go on a field trip?”
***
Dokja staggers lightly as he pulls out Unbreakable Faith from a fallen corpse, wiping the blood off on its skin before glancing towards Yoo Joonghyuk. He appears to be done as well, not a hair out of place as he eyes the pileup of ground rats at his feet.
The dungeon had been little work so far, a handful of Level 8 reptiles scattered amidst an endless swarm of ground rats that appear to have mutated several times larger. Simple enough to kill, but the trick was in their numbers; they’d been flooded with them upon entrance, continuing through three of the gates that led them to the last room before the final chamber. A time-consuming, tedious work and he finds himself a little glad; at least the constellations hadn’t missed out on a good show.
A message blinks in front of him informing him of some measly coin gained from getting a first kill, and he waves it away, walking towards the final gate. Yoo Joonghyuk follows closely behind, and Dokja steals a quick look, turning back around just as quickly.
The sounds of dripping water echo within the tunnel-like chamber, suddenly broken by Yoo Joonghyuk asking, “Is something wrong?”
Sure the hell is since you thought to ask that, Dokja thinks to himself.
“It’s nothing. The boss is rumored to be Level 6 or lower, help me weaken him, yeah?”
It almost feels hallucinatory, the ease with which Yoo Joonghyuk agrees. Dokja eyes him curiously as they come to a stop at the gate door, a sudden thought traveling to the front of his mind.
Was this what Yoo Joonghyuk would act like if he fell in love? No declarations, not even a simple change of expression; the bastard would simply become more…agreeable?
Hell, could he make the penalty last a little longer?
“Kim Dokja?” A hand slips into his, giving it a light squeeze.
Ah, right. He’d forgotten about this part.
He twists his hand away, pretending to dust off his coat in a completely useless endeavor—monster blood already having seeped into every inch. If anything, it transfers back onto his hand, he realizes irritably.
What was Yoo Joonghyuk like in the regression where he was with Lee Seolhwa? It’s hard for him to recall that far back, but he thinks he can recollect wisps of a quiet love, of a momentary solace found in a trusted companion. He’d been happy for Yoo Joonghyuk, if he’s remembering it correctly.
A surge of curiosity blooms in his thoughts, and he quickly clears his throat, placing his hand on the aged handle.
“Remember. The final blow goes to me, alright?”
Might as well get some coins and items out of this absurd development.
***
“Ready to head back?” Dokja thinks to ask in the middle of wiping his sword on his sleeve, tucking it back into his inventory before turning around. The dungeon had been worth it in the end; the final boss had been a breeze to clear with Yoo Joonghyuk there to deliver several lethal blows up ahead, and an SSS-grade item, Eye of Beithir, lies within his hands as proof.
Yoo Joonghyuk looks up, giving him a quiet nod before offering his hand. Dokja stares into the skies and sighs, leaning forward and grabbing the damned hand and marching out into the rocky fields.
It’s an awkward walk back, a few looks directed towards them here and there that are quickly withdrawn as they scamper off, intimidated by Yoo Joonghyuk’s powerful aura. He really could smile a little, Dokja muses before quickly backtracking on the thought, deciding that two grown men holding hands was enough of an eye-catching sight—heavens knew what would happen if Yoo Joonghyuk began smiling on top of it.
Gloomy bastard, he thinks with a mix of exasperation and amusement as he yanks him closer, fastening his pace to get the embarrassing ordeal over with.
It’s dark outside by the time they reach the headquarters, and they encounter Lee Jihye on the way in, who gives them a single glance before biting down on trembling lips, clapping her palm over a laugh as she quickly runs away.
Dokja bites back a heavy sigh, continuing to drag Yoo Joonghyuk forward. By some stroke of luck, they don’t run into anyone else—presumably either asleep or off in some corner doing their own thing. He’s busy eyeing the clock, trying to figure out how many hours are left for the penalty when he spots Yoo Joonghyuk heading towards the kitchen, finding himself following after him.
He leans against the doorway, watching as Yoo Joonghyuk takes out knives and containers and arranges them on the countertop before asking, “Are you cooking?”
Yoo Joonghyuk turns back, pinning him with an earnest look that makes Dokja regret ever speaking. “Are you hungry?”
He shrugs offhandedly, then immediately loses control of his carefully controlled expression as he watches Yoo Joonghyuk take out several chunks of meat from his inventory in fast succession. Ground rats, the whole lot of them, he quickly realizes.
“When on earth did you find the time to…” He trails off, frankly flabbergasted. Were they running low on meat? Was this a manifestation of the penalty in some demented form?
“Why?” He asks weakly instead, and Yoo Joonghyuk gives him a short stare, turning back to sharpening the knives.
“I heard from Yoo Sangah. You enjoy this, don’t you?”
Enjoy—wait a minute.
A distant memory comes to mind; a sub-scenario in an old station, a small group gathered around the gentle light of a magic power stove.
What the hell?
Yoo Joonghyuk looks back towards him, seemingly expecting an answer. Dokja comes up with a dozen responses in his head; ‘it was the only thing available at the time, you stupid bastard’, ‘why the hell were you asking Yoo Sangah-ssi about what I like to eat’, ‘what the hell is going on in your mind, Yoo Joonghyuk?’.
He eventually settles for a jerky nod, finding himself muttering out, “Yeah. It’s not bad.”
Ridiculous, he thinks as he sees the quiet glint that lights up Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes. The last time he saw him like this, the bastard had thrown him off a bridge. What was he so damned happy about now?
He shudders lightly, heading back to his room before the lunacy catches onto him.
After a quick shower and a couple skills whipped out to clean his clothes and moisturize his face, Dokja sits at a table, doing a quick read on a few chapters that could prove useful to the upcoming scenarios. Time passes by faster than he expects, because soon enough, there’s a knock on the door.
He’d blissfully forgotten the day’s turn of events, and is scared out of his wits when he finds Yoo Joonghyuk standing outside his room.
“Dinner’s ready.”
“You…” he trails off helplessly, sighing in the end. He looks aimlessly around the corridor, then sniffs the air lightly, “Have you showered?”
Yoo Joonghyuk seems a little startled by the question, eyes taking on a hesitant look before quietly shaking his head.
Aha.
“Go take a shower, you stink of sewers.” Dokja commands happily, rubbing his nose at the stroke of genius. He glances back at his face, the smugness slightly dimming as he sees the forlorn reluctance written all over his face.
“…You can come eat with me afterwards.” He warily offers, in part relieved when Joonghyuk nods after a moment of consideration, looking a little more appeased as he walks off.
What a strange bastard, he thinks as he makes his way to the kitchen. A sweet smell lingers in the air and his stomach rumbles lightly, surprising himself. When was the last time he had one of Yoo Joonghyuk’s meals?
It shouldn’t count with the magic power stove doing most of the work, his mind quickly provides, and he nods approvingly. There’s an anticipation that lingers, however; an expectation of some sorts that the damned halo around the guy would have elevated it to some obscure grade above the common man’s touch.
It’s just rat meat, Dokja fiercely mutters to himself as he tears off a sizable chunk from a golden brown leg, growing increasingly quiet as he chews it in his mouth.
He swallows thickly, staring at the leg for a long pause before darkly mumbling under his breath, “Sure enough, a protagonist is a protagonist…”
How nonsensical, he thinks as he chows down the rest and grabs another, mind traveling back to their dungeon attack earlier in the day. The monsters hadn’t been anywhere close to the higher grades they’ve been battling lately, but he knows well and clear that they managed to finish up so quickly because of Yoo Joonghyuk’s presence. A little funny though, but battling them had felt different today, somehow.
He thinks back on their recent battles, quickly gathering scraps of memories before coming to a sudden realization.
That bastard hadn’t trailblazed his way through the monsters all by himself today. Instead, he’d adapted to Dokja’s style of fighting, even retreating at some points where he let Dokja take the lead, dropping back into the scene at vital moments to wipe them out with well-timed combinations of their swords.
A perfect teamwork, he marvels silently. Who would have thought—Yoo Joonghyuk, a team player?
“How is it?”
The sudden voice sends him jumping straight out of his bones, and he looks over his shoulder, finding the man in question halfway across the room, looking oddly out of place without the ever-present coat framing his figure. He wonders when was the last time he saw him like this, then thinks about the last time Yoo Joonghyuk had spent this much time in their headquarters.
A busy man with a busier schedule, gratingly impossible to track with the way he’s constantly on the move; dressed down in casual clothes, asking him if he liked what he cooked.
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
“It’s not bad.” He mumbles around another leg, stuffing his mouth immediately after.
***
“This is my room.” Kim Dokja finds himself saying a few hours later, stuck to the doorway as he incredulously stares at the man standing before him.
Yoo Joonghyuk nods shortly, then asks, “Can I come in?”
“Come—why on earth? Do you know what time it is, Yoo Joonghyuk?”
The bastard has the gall to seem confused by the question. The expression on his face takes on a deeper look as if actually pondering on an answer, and Dokja huffs exasperatedly, pulling him into the room.
Hell to it all, there’s only nine hours left on the clock. Protagonist or otherwise, he can always just knock him out.
“Don’t try anything funny.” He warns while throwing a newly bought comforter at his head. Yoo Joonghyuk catches it with ease, bunching it over his lap before giving him a questioning look.
“What would I try?”
Dokja ignores him and marches over to his desk, cushioning his head against the soft padding as he takes out his phone, picking up where he left off. The chapters flit by quickly, and by the time his eyes go weary, he finds that near to three hours have already passed.
He glances irritably towards the bed, spine growing stiff as he finds Yoo Joonghyuk on his back, staring emptily into the ceiling, not a sign of sleep in his eyes.
What the hell is he thinking about now?
“Can’t sleep?” He asks instead, and Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes flit towards him.
He stares at him for a long time, then says, “It’ll come.”
Dokja closes his eyes and inhales slowly, then lets out a deep breath.
He can’t be blamed for this, he thinks a little venomously, shutting his phone and making his way to the bed.
Really, if the bastard has the audacity to wring him out in the morning about this, he’ll remind him of exactly how pathetic he looked laying there with those damnably beautiful despondent eyes.
The bed dips under his weight, and a look of surprise crosses Yoo Joonghyuk’s face as Dokja wiggles his way closer, stretching an arm over the pillows and gesturing towards it.
That he feels a little foolish, he’ll never admit.
“C’mere. Keep the blanket on.”
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t move, and Dokja counts to ten in his mind, swallowing the row of curses on his tongue before saying, “Seriously, this is where you draw the line? You’re in my bed, in my room, and we both need to catch some sleep. Yoo Joonghyuk, get in here or I’m kicking you out.”
The light rustles of the sheets interrupt the silence within the room as Yoo Joonghyuk shuffles closer, finally resting his head in the crook of his arm. His eyes close instantly, and it’s hard to miss the relaxed heave of breath that leaves his chest, the protective layer of blankets between them and all.
Perhaps he’s a little more tired than he’d thought, Dokja ponders. He’s finding it a little hard to remain irritated, not when he’s discovering for himself that Yoo Joonghyuk’s hair is soft, that his breaths are warm, that his lashes are lightly curled towards the tips. A protagonist at heart; outrageously beautiful even on his way to sleep.
It occurs to him within some obscure corner of his mind that this may just be his one chance to observe this so closely. The damning thought leaks into some nerve pathways and turns his voice a little softer as he asks, “Why didn’t you just tell me to come to bed? Did you think I wouldn’t? I let you hold my hand all day.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes flutter open, lids swollen with sleep. He watches Dokja’s face for a while before dragging out an arm from beneath the swath of sheets, placing it over Dokja’s chest, patting lightly.
“Kim Dokja,” he mutters, voice gruff with exhaustion. Dokja stiffens lightly, eyeing the palm laid over his heart.
He mumbles something under his breath that Dokja doesn’t catch, and he mulls on it for an agonizing few seconds before finally daring to ask, “What did you say?”
You worked hard.
A breath of air leaves his lips, a silent exhale.
He watches as Yoo Joonghyuk falls asleep; his breaths gradually evening out, head growing slack over his arm. He watches, then watches some more, finally tearing his eyes away as he lets out a dazed laugh, staring up at the ceiling.
The poor fool, whoever it was that would fall for this damned bastard.
He adjusts his arm, tucking Yoo Joonghyuk a little closer before closing his eyes.
For a moment there—just a fleeting moment—he’d thought his heart had fluttered.
***
“Never speak of this.” Yoo Joonghyuk commands between gritted teeth, and Dokja lets out a relieved sigh.
“Glad we agree on that. Take your time getting out of my room, bastard.”
He returns a greasy smile when Joonghyuk shoots daggers his way, eternally grateful that the Black Heavenly Demon Sword is several rooms away, a considerable distance from Yoo Joonghyuk’s tensed fists, or his own precarious neck.
He watches as Yoo Joonghyuk struggles out of the sheets, marveling at the deep scowl furrowing his brows together. Any lower and they’ll fall into his eyes, he thinks amusedly.
Really, how can he not tease this guy when he’s this ruffled up? It’s his fault if anything, he justifies to himself.
“Yoo Joonghyuk,” he calls out, gleeful at the murderous look that’s sent his way. Time to light the fuse, then.
“Are you in love with me?”
[Activate exclusive skill ‘Lie Detection Lv.7’?]
The grin on his face freezes as he stares at the sudden message box blinking in his vision, wholly unprompted.
He hadn’t been trying to activate that, had he?
Leaving that aside, lie detection had never generated a confirmation prompt, neither on his end nor anywhere within Ways of Survival, as far as he can recall. So what was the meaning of this?
Lost in his thoughts, he misses the brief tension to Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulders at his question, only coming back around to hear them snarl, “Don’t be a fool, Kim Dokja.”
Ah, so the penalty really is over, he thinks with relief. Watches with deep amusement as they storm out of the room, slamming the door so hard that the desk rattles against the floor.
He chuckles as he slumps back onto his bed, calling out for Biyoo so he can finally turn the channel back on. Back to the game, he muses while running over the notes he’d memorized for the next sub-scenario, one that’s bound to be a bountiful harvest.
(It never occurs to him that Yoo Joonghyuk never said no.)