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“So…” droned fifteen-year-old Kim Dokja—a.k.a. the first Oldest Dream or “Odin” for convenience when his bigger counterpart was in the vicinity—one day at the Demon King of Salvation. “I heard that you visited our dead aunt last week.”
He and the Secretive Plotter had decided to visit the adult Kim Dokja’s worldline after the second Oldest Dream sent them a cryptic message about the awkward family reunion that took place in the Underworld recently. Hearing the words “my aunt” be voiced by the adult Dokja (nicknamed “Guwon” when both versions of the dreamers were in one location) had thrown Odin off, for he knew that their memories of that belligerent woman were abhorrent.
Currently, the two Dokjas, the Secretive Plotter, Yoo Joonghyuk and Han Sooyoung were sitting around in Guwon’s living room, the exact same room where Guwon had requested advice from his nebula members regarding his aunt (and broke down into tears, an act that he would rather not bring up). He and Odin shared the sofa while the others sat in separate armchairs ahead of them.
“I did report that,” Guwon said serenely, his mien a nearly perfect mask of abstemiousness, though the twinkle in his eyes suggested that his true thoughts were under the lines of I did something incredibly stupid again but survived, and I’m not going to apologize for that.
The Secretive Plotter gave him a weird look and unsubtly side-eyed Odin, as if to warn the latter not to evolve like the mischievous demon king. Odin looked away guiltily, not having the heart to confess that the Secretive Plotter was wishing for too much. He was still a Kim Dokja, so trollish behavior was probably already ingrained in his ethos.
Sorry, Joonghyuk-hyung. You should’ve known what to expect when you took me in.
Anyway, that was not the point here.
“And you only bothered to tell us now because…?” he pressed on, flapping a hand at Guwon’s direction.
The demon king shrugged and said, “I forgot? It really slipped my mind for a bit until I realized that you should probably know about it. And hey! No one died, so it was fine!”
“That’s rich coming from you,” commented a chafed Sooyoung, her nose scrunching as she forced herself to listen to Guwon’s drivel. “You used to make dying your hobby.”
“You nearly collapsed after you kicked your aunt out of the meeting,” Joonghyuk reminded him matter-of-factly with a thick raised eyebrow, “and you thought that was fine.”
“Well, you caught me, didn’t you?” Guwon retorted, crossing his arms and pouting.
(It should not be cute for a twenty-eight-year-old man to perform aegyo, but somehow he managed to pull it off. Maybe it was because he genuinely appeared to be in his early twenties instead.)
To his dismay, even the Secretive Plotter glared at him as he rumbled: [Kim Dokja.]
The aforementioned young man threw his hands up in the air and bemoaned, “Is this a catchphrase among all versions of Yoo Joonghyuk?! My name?!”
“Admit it—you’re a menace to society,” cackled Sooyoung, her legs kicking at air.
Guwon groaned and buried his head into his hands. What was it with his comrades ganging up on him all the time?
Odin just laughed at him, further shattering his fragile ego. The betrayal!
“In all seriousness,” said the lad, sobering up, “did it help at all? Seeing our aunt, I mean. It must have been uncomfortable.”
“No kidding,” Guwon chuffed. “But yeah, it was refreshing. I got to say all of the things I couldn’t say before. The fact that she treated me less than a human because she feared that her reputation would be ruined… How could I forgive her for that when she never showed me any decency?”
Unbeknownst to him, Sooyoung flinched, recalling the tragic wish of the 49% Kim Dokja, who had felt so cheated by his nebula shunning him that he had wished to be reborn as someone else.
To have known pain so intimately throughout one’s whole life, to forming a family of choice, only to be hurt again… It was no wonder that Kim Dokja hardly expected much from people and remained so introverted. His heart was so scarred that it was difficult to tell where the damage ended and began—perhaps the injuries were entangled in infinite knots, or his heart had been shredded to pieces and clumsily stitched back together.
Odin cut her line of thought by tittering: “Family, right?”
“Yeah.” Guwon nodded. “The paternal side especially was so messed up, though I won’t say that our mother is normal, either.”
Odin hummed and queried, “Because she went to prison?”
Guwon grimaced and shifted his gaze. “You could say that.”
Now that he thought it over, did anyone aside himself tell his younger counterpart the truth about their father’s death? That it was Dokja who had held the kitchen knife that night? That his father tripped on an empty glass bottle and fell onto the blade?
Odin glimpsed at the elder and patted his arm consolingly. “You don’t have to beat around the bush, you know.”
Guwon blinked at him and asked, “What do you mean?”
The boy shrugged.
“That night. It wasn’t Mother who killed him, right? It was us—or rather, he got himself killed, didn’t he? You told me, remember?”
Guwon did, yet he still felt his breath catch in his throat, rendered speechless for a few seconds. It was an infamous day that he would not wish to recollect.
The princeling must have zoned out, for Odin elaborated: “No one told me anything except you. Not to mention, your facial expressions whenever you mentioned our parents gave you away ahead of time, and I connected the dots from there. It turns out we were lying to ourselves the entire time, weren’t we?” He lowered his gaze and sighed. “It made sense the more I thought about it—the reason why Mother wrote that book.”
Underground Killer. A memoir about a mother who killed her abusive husband to protect her child. Ironically, the child was targeted by news reporters and bullies alike—ergo, his spiral into despair.
“Are you angry at her?” Guwon inquired quietly.
“A little?” Guwon waved his hand to and fro. “Not as much as before. I understand why she did it, but I think she might have tried too hard in trying to convince the public that she was the perpetrator. And you know how unreliable the justice system was.”
“It was positively awful,” Guwon agreed. “A lot of things could have been prevented back then.”
The ceaseless cruelty, for example. Why was the world filled with such horrid, vile people?
“True.” Then, Odin smiled. “But I still got to meet Joonghyuk-hyung and the others in the end, so I’m not wallowing over that anymore.”
Guwon chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair in approval.
The Secretive Plotter watched the two fondly (because he must acknowledge that he was always a sucker for Kim Dokja) and said, [So, I take it that you don’t plan on more traumatic family drama any time soon?]
Guwon raised an eyebrow and replied, “Since when has anything stuck completely to the plan?”
[Knowing your luck?] The Outer God scoffed. [The next thing we hear is you planning another trip to the Underworld to traumatize a relative who traumatized you.]
His face slackened when he noticed Guwon tap his chin contemplatively. And that was when he realized that the rat was considering something foolish at the detriment of his companions’ sanity.
[Kim Dokja, no.]
The constellation lifted his palms face-forward and protested, “I didn’t even say anything yet!”
[Your face said it all. What are you scheming this time?]
Hearing the Secretive Plotter scold the reader, Joonghyuk and Sooyoung swiveled their heads at Guwon with identical frowns, as if to prompt him to come clean.
Even Odin focused his attention on the other with a skeptical expression.
Guwon just…gave up. Apparently, everyone in this room had absolutely no faith in him. His track record was truly sabotaging him.
“Look. I promised my adoptive parents that I would spend the whole afternoon in the Underworld tomorrow for some family bonding. It just so happens that there are a lot of dead convicts there as well—my biological father included. I might bump into him either tomorrow or someday later. And I have so much pent-up fury directed at that guy.”
“Ah.” Sooyoung nodded empathetically. “So, you want to beat him up?”
“That would be very nice,” Guwon admitted unabashedly, “but unfortunately, I don’t think I should stoop to his level, no matter how tempting the offer is. And, oh, Odin-ah.” He turned to the shorter youth. “Are you sure you want to listen to this?”
“Try me, hyung,” said Odin with a confident flair that was definitely absent years ago. “I’m not the same coward as I was when we first met.”
Guwon grinned sardonically at him. Both were capable of being pitiful monsters in their own right. Nonetheless, decades of hardship had desensitized them markedly.
“Going back to the topic, I have no intentions of talking to that slimy bastard. However, as the Secretive Plotter has pointed out, plans tend to go awry. At the very least, I should be emotionally prepared if we ever cross paths again. I wouldn’t say that I’m afraid of my father anymore, but I fear that I might lose decorum if he simply opens his mouth to curse at me, because that is exactly something that he would do.”
His father sounded like a total piece of work, was the mutual thought of every person in the chamber who was not named Kim Dokja. Compared to that brute, the Dokjas were mild-mannered.
Then again, even the collected Kim Dokja could snap. Exhibit A: his father’s death. Exhibit B: Guwon beating up the dokkaebi Paul for dooming Shin Yoosung of the 41st round. Sometimes the quiet ones were also the most dangerous.
Odin appeared to have no qualms toward Guwon’s reasoning as he spoke up.
“Okay.” All of a sudden, a lightbulb flashed in his head as he perked up. “Hey, can I come with you tomorrow, hyung?”
Gawping at the smaller boy due to the abrupt outburst, Guwon fumbled for words.
“I mean… Persephone and Hades won’t mind your company, but are you sure?” he asked.
“Why not?” Odin responded. “Besides, like Joonghyuk-hyung said: Knowing your luck, you might as well have jinxed yourself. I want to use this opportunity to speak my mind, too. And the two of us will have so much fun afterwards!”
Guwon paled into the shade of milk as he stared at his counterpart. Was unhingement hereditary in their family or what? This was exactly why he took a vow of chastity—his bloodline’s genes were a global hazard. Witnessing his younger self’s dubious rationality firsthand made him wonder how his own companions viewed him.
(Did he really want the answer to that?)
The Secretive Plotter was not fairing any better, gaping at the adolescent like he had grown another head before the former groaned into his hands.
Surveying the Outer God’s turmoil, Guwon immediately apperceived that he should apologize.
It was inevitable—tomorrow was going to be an utter debacle. He could feel it in his bones.
The next morning, when Guwon had dressed himself in his jacket and necktie and signature white coat, he rubbed his eyes and blinked at the hallucination-inducing scene at the front doorway. Then, he shook his head viciously and blinked some more.
When Odin asked if he could accompany his older self, the latter expected him to arrive alone. He did not foresee the child bringing along the cavalry.
He thrust a shaking finger at the group of the 999th round’s Outer Gods and screeched, “You brought your entire crew with you?!”
“Good morning to you, too, hyung,” Odin deadpanned, glaring droopily at him like an exhausted cat. “Thanks; I am doing well today.”
“That’s not the point and you know it. You couldn’t have given me or my parents a warning?”
“I sent a message to Hades-ahjussi!” Odin alleged innocently. “He approved of them—for today, at least.”
The only reason why Hades would even agree to such an outlandish request was because it was a version of Kim Dokja who was asking. Otherwise, he would be far more intolerant.
Guwon fought back the urge to commit defenestration—against whom, he was uncertain. Being raised by Outer Gods who all desperately required therapy was hindering the boy’s social skills. They were all bad influences—except for maybe the King of the Silver Heart, Lee Hyunsung. He could do no wrong.
[Hello, Guwon-ssi!] chirped Hyunsung, distracting the demon king from his inner pandemonium. [It’s nice to see you again.]
Guwon could not help but smile back and hail politely: “Likewise. It’s been a while, Hyunsung-ssi. Not that I’m unhappy to see you guys, but…” His gaze trailed over the entities bemusedly. “...Why did Odin-ah decide to invite you to the Underworld of all places?”
[We heard that you two might bump into your crazy old man down there,] answered the Monarch of the Great Abyss, Kim Namwoon. [So, guess what? Tada! We’re your bodyguards for today.]
The Master of the Sunken Island, Lee Jihye, muttered something under her breath insinuating that Namwoon should curb his enthusiasm. The Living Flame, Uriel, simply giggled at Jihye’s exasperation.
“Your kindness is appreciated,” Guwon thanked tactfully. “However, Odin-ah…” He directed his rebuke at the younger dreamer. “Please do not announce things in the last minute from now on. Other people might not be so patient, all right?”
“Yes, hyung,” Odin sighed heavily. “Crystal clear.”
Satisfied, Guwon patted him on the head. Odin just had the type of face that one could not stay mad at, with those large doe eyes and marshmallow cheeks.
Considering that Guwon had an almost identical visage, why did people still get angry at him? Oh, right—because he had the perpetually bad habit of sacrificing himself whenever the situation was too dire. Whoops.
Jihye placed a hand on her hip and asked teasingly, [Well, are you going to lead the way, Your Highness?]
Guwon’s friends from both the 999th and 1,864th worldlines had the tendency to address the constellation with royal honorifics for kicks. Only he did not think it amusing.
“Why do you and my worldline’s Lee Jihye like to make fun of me so much?” he whined despondently, kneading his forehead with slender fingers.
[You make it too easy!] sang Uriel, beaming at both Dokjas. [And you’re cute, making it a whole lot funnier.]
“What about younger me, then? Why doesn’t he get the same treatment?”
[Because he’s not royalty,] said Jihye. [You’re the heir of the Underworld and a demon king. What’s the problem?]
Nothing, reflected Guwon. Nothing but the universe trying to screw with him per usual. Before the scenarios, he was just another victim of capitalism trying to pay rent. After the apocalypse occurred, people called him ugly because his face was censored. (This simply proved how rude they could be. Humanity was such a disappointment. Plus, he was not actually unattractive!) And now, he was surrounded by comrades 24/7 whose stability was nebulous at best.
(Those very comrades had attempted to get him a therapist. All he did was drive the therapist into getting a therapist because his trauma was too much for anyone to handle. They had to resort to family counseling that day forth.)
He shot a helpless glance at the Secretive Plotter, whose lips merely quirked upward and remained closed. Although, his foot restlessly tapping the floor signaled impatience.
Glad to see that there was someone taking this seriously, thought Guwon as he gestured at the others to rally up.
“Okay, everyone,” he announced, clapping his hands together. “Let’s not waste any more time and head out.”
[It’s so dark in here!] was Namwoon’s first observation when Guwon led the team to Tartarus. The former had insisted on checking the place out, so Guwon had relented and granted that wish, though he would argue that Tartarus was rather prosaic for a legendary landmark. It was basically a ginormous mine with obsidian walls and criminals in raggedy uniforms performing grueling manual labor for eternity.
(He decided not tell the white-haired youth that his human equivalent had worked there. Would he even take offense to such a reveal? Who knew? No matter what version, the guy was still a chūnibyō.)
[Yeah, well, maybe it would look a little brighter if you took off your eyepatch,] Jihye nudged her peer, who gasped theatrically in return.
[Why would I do that?! It looks awesome on me! Right, Captain?] He whipped his head at the Secretive Plotter’s direction. [Tell Jihye-yah that I look cool.]
The Secretive Plotter espied his charge passively and crisply grunted, [You look fine.]
As expected of a Yoo Joonghyuk—always straightforward and blunt while delivering mediocre compliments.
Hyunsung darted his eyes at the various toilers and questioned, [Is it really a good idea for us to be here?]
“No need to worry, Hyunsung-ssi,” Guwon reassured him. “We have a team of Outer Gods and constellations, one being the Underworld’s prince. No one with a brain would dare to attack without risking my parents’ or my own wrath. And in the rare case of someone having the guts to do so anyway, we can protect ourselves easily.”
[Is that so? Then, I’ll trust Guwon-ssi’s judgement.]
Indeed, the Demon King of Salvation had promised that no harm would befall them, but of course, as luck would have it, there would be a mishap to put Guwon’s words to the test.
To clarify, when the group members were peacefully ambling through their inspection, one of the workers (a man of above average height) bumped into the Living Flame while trying to move past the party.
Before Uriel could complain, the man beat her to it by rudely yelling: “Hey, watch it!”
Jeez, that guy could be labeled as a felon for his attitude problem alone.
Quick to defend his friend, Odin cried, “Don’t talk to Uriel-noona like that!”
His older self, having caught a glimpse of the offending man, widened his eyes and briskly pulled the boy behind him and away from the stranger’s scope.
Odin stared at Guwon quizzically before looking at the newcomer, only to grip the elder constellation’s coat tightly.
The unknown man was all hard edges, his countenance harsh and stern and his physique broad and jagged. His hair and eyes were black, his nose sharp and his mouth pressed in a straight line. A few wrinkles decorated his face, giving the impression that he was older than thirty when he had perished. His frown was too grotesque for him to be handsome, though his slicked-back hair might have nearly made him appear charming in his prime. His flat cheeks were an interesting shade of puce.
Nevertheless, he was an unwelcome sight, for the Oldest Dreams blanched upon discerning him. All that they remembered of this man was bellows and spittle, the stench of alcohol and blood, broken glass bottles and fists punching their heads and stomachs. Nothing but heart-wrenching, excruciating pain.
This was the man who once had the dishonor of being titled Kim Dokja’s father.
The Secretive Plotter must have noticed their agitation, since he subtly shifted to conceal them from their father’s view.
(There was a saying that a man showed his true colors after marriage. Such a shame that Mr. Kim was the example of a man who should have never been entrusted with a partner, more or less an offspring.)
A bystander hissed at his fellow human: “Dude, you just crashed into Uriel of all people, a constellation who could definitely obliterate you! Apologize lest you lose your head!”
The guy must have mistaken the Living Flame for the Demon-like Judge of Fire. All the same, correcting him would be no use—they were both more powerful than regular incarnations.
Mr. Kim peeked at the quondam archangel—at her long blond tresses and emerald eyes, plus her deceivingly delicate frame—and scoffed: “You want me to apologize to some girl? She was in the way.”
Oh, a drunkard and a misogynist? He was dead meat, especially when the aura surrounding the visitors eclipsed into obscure smoke. Jihye in particular looked like she was going to drown him.
[You were in the way, you moron! You want to be snuffed out of existence so badly?!]
All of Mr. Kim’s colleagues swiveled their attention away from a potentially upcoming confrontation-slash-bloodbath. At any rate, there were some people with a sense of self-preservation. Too bad Mr. Kim was not one of them, spluttering vile curses in frustration once he realized that his co-workers had abandoned him to the wolves.
Meanwhile, Guwon was internally screaming.
It hasn’t even been five minutes, and we’re already causing a scene! Break it up, you guys!
Sweating profusely, Hyunsung slowly inched away from his companions. Smart man.
Namwoon tilted his head and whispered to the readers: [Is this jerk your sperm donor?]
“Yeah,” muttered Guwon, whilst Odin solely bobbed his head.
Ducking, Namwoon said, [Got it. Just leave everything to me.]
“Wait, what?”
It was too late. Before Guwon could insist for an explanation, Namwoon had already walked away and clasped Jihye’s shoulder.
[Stay back. I’ll take it from here.]
The admiral blinked perplexedly, yet complied to her friend’s order. What in the world was he going to do?
Namwoon leered at the older male, the former’s crimson irises drilling holes into beady ones. The stare-down lasted for ten vexatious seconds until Mr. Kim mustered the courage to break the silence.
“Boy, what do you think you’re looking at—”
BAM!
A calloused fist smashed into Mr. Kim’s cheek, forcing the human to spin on his axis and collapse onto the soil, drool flying from his mouth due to the impact.
Uriel gasped. Jihye shrieked. Hyunsung winced. Odin startled. Guwon and the Secretive Plotter facepalmed.
Of course Namwoon took the violent route.
Mr. Kim continued screaming as Namwoon straddled him and landed a couple more punches on his defenseless face. The chūni bared his teeth and snarled during his attacking spree, aiming to knock out a tooth from the pathetic vermin. Mr. Kim’s agonized howls reverberated in the air.
As purgative it would have been, Guwon wanted to avoid that kind of publicity. Companion of the Heir of the Underworld Beats Up Tartarus Employee. He would never live down the headlines—Sooyoung and Jung Heewon would guffaw at his expense for days on end if he did not interfere pronto.
He gently pushed Odin into the Secretive Plotter’s arms, trampled over and lifted Namwoon by the underarms like a disobedient puppy, cajoling: “All right, Namwoon-ah. I think that’s enough.”
Then, he peeped at Namwoon’s masterpiece to assess the mutilation.
It was a ghastly spectacle. Mr. Kim’s skin was black and blue, his face deformed beyond recognition as a result of the bruises on his eyelids, cheeks and mouth. A couple of visible teeth seemed chipped, and his nose appeared broken. His injuries were twice as grievous as the ones that Kim Dokja and Lee Sookyung had suffered under his hands, but they were no less throbbing.
Guwon nearly whistled. The inflicted damage was quite impressive.
Surprisingly, Mr. Kim still managed to control his vocal cords as he hoarsely groaned, “You… Did you tell your buddy to assault me…?”
Guwon tutted at him, promptly activated his demon king transformation and challenged in his true voice: [Is that any way to speak to your prince?]
Hearing the word “prince” roll down Guwon’s status-induced tongue like thick honey (his status was so strong that his father felt his skull getting crushed), Mr. Kim’s breath hitched, the older man struggling to get onto his knees and kowtow. To think that he humiliated himself in front of Underworld royalty! He was going to be fed to Cerberus in no time.
“A… A thousand pardons, Your Highness! I did not mean to offend you.”
What a two-faced, undignified bastard. Was this what Lee Sookyung had fallen for? Based on his articulation, it seemed like Mr. Kim had zero knowledge of the heir’s true alias. This could be entertaining.
For once, Guwon did not register any snickers from being addressed so formally. Howbeit, the current circumstance was no joking matter. He silently thanked his companions for behaving as he ultimately decided on what to execute next.
Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he coldly commanded, [Cease your disgraceful sniveling and lift your head.]
Quashing his sniffles, Mr. Kim obeyed and gaped at the constellation, his eyes swollen and body engulfed by the shadows of Guwon’s feathered wings.
The younger man demanded, [Do you know who I am?]
“You… You are the prince of the Underworld, Your Highness,” Mr. Kim mumbled with gritted teeth.
[Speak coherently and concisely.] Oh, pestering him was going to be fun. [Anything else?]
“The…Demon King of Salvation?” was uttered a tad louder.
A sharp chuckle.
[Warmer, though not what I had in mind. We’ve met decades ago, long before I ascended. Does my face not jog your memory?]
Baffled, Mr. Kim squinted at the man opposite of him.
Smooth black hair. Pallid skin. Average height and a lithe build. A white button-up shirt and coat, with a black necktie, suit jacket, slacks and loafers exposing wan ankles. Thin eyebrows, a small nose and dainty pink lips. Long-lashed eyes with stars glistering in the irises. He was bewitching, unconventional to the standards of masculine handsomeness—an androgynous type of beauty more commonly pursued by modern-day youths—and fulfilling the category of men of which Mr. Kim would have disapproved of his son becoming. Too soft. Too pretty. Too lissome for the elder’s respect.
Or that was what he had originally presumed, until the crushing pressure of the constellation’s status virtually suffocated him, and sharp horns and massive wings ruptured respectively from the demon king’s head and back. This twig-like man with his deceptive veneer could jūdō-flip Mr. Kim in a second flat.
The human studied Guwon’s appearance. The lilt in his voice, the distant gaze, the shape of those cheeks and the curves of his mouth were conspicuous to Mr. Kim, but he found it difficult to pinpoint a reminiscence. It was almost like this young man resembled a long-lost lover…
…Hold on. An ex-lover…
Lee Sookyung.
They were all the same. The shrewd twinkle in the prince’s eyes, the strong and steady tone, and the voracious scrutiny as though he were analyzing—reading—other people… They were identical to that woman.
“You… You’re Dokja—”
CRUNCH!
Mr. Kim emitted a girlish scream when Guwon’s heeled shoe slammed too close to the first’s head, the ground cracking as debris flitted from the contact.
[Don’t address me so familiarly,] the younger scorned. [We’re not family.]
Mr. Kim seemed close to micturating in his underwear. Conversely, Odin goggled at the ridiculous scene with fascinated rapture.
A short distance away, some stray workers tittle-tattled about how hot it would be for Guwon to step on them. Having overheard this drivel, the Secretive Plotter glowered at them so menacingly that they instantly shut up.
Mr. Kim seemed incapable of this endeavor, however.
“You… You are a constellation? You’re the prince? My son is that demon king? Wait, didn’t you kill me—?”
Watching him bow at Guwon like a lowly miscreant, similarly to how Lee Sookyung and Kim Dokja would cower by virtue of misgiven beatings, gave Odin the gallantry to leave his guardian’s hold and approach his older self.
“Didn’t my hyung just say that you aren’t family?”
[Odin-ah?] ejaculated Guwon, hustling the teen under his arm as if to shield the smaller one from their father’s essence.
Mr. Kim skimmed his eyes back and forth as though he were seeing double—which he literally was. That lad was practically a miniature, cherub version of the Demon King of Salvation.
“What the… But… How is this possible—”
[“Different worldlines,”] both Dokjas stated concomitantly without batting an eyelid.
Technically, it was not a fully false claim. After all, they did reside in separate worldlines.
Bewildered, Mr. Kim zipped his mouth shut.
Odin could not care less. That man’s ugly mug—the first horror story in Odin’s life birthed into reality—was the perfect incentive for the boy to completely go off.
“Not that it should matter. There are just so many things wrong about your miserable existence that I was obliged to endure in my short life—so many things that I don’t have the patience to list. Lashing out on innocent people when you got laid off from your job, drinking yourself to stupors, beating Mother and me up until we could barely stand, trying to kill us when you were so unsatisfied with your own life… Don’t you have any sense of pride and dignity? Leave us out of your own stupid problems!
“And you know what? What you said about me killing you? That was all your fault. I was a child. I didn’t know any better—I just wanted to protect myself and my mother from you. You, the poison in our life. I didn’t expect you to trip over a bottle and land on the knife. And for the record, you were the one who carelessly left the bottle on the floor like the alcoholic that you were. You wanted to die so badly and toss away your family that you got your wish! Yet my mother and I still couldn’t escape your influence and paid the price anyway!
“I hate you,” he declared fiercely at the man he had previously labeled his father. “I hate you so much for what you did to us. I hate your relatives, and my classmates for bullying me, and my teachers and other adults for doing absolutely nothing to stop them, but I hate you especially. If you weren’t so selfish and toxic, I wouldn’t have doomed the world. I wouldn’t have made my hyung suffer for my mistakes. I wouldn’t have tried to kill myself.”
Mr. Kim’s eyes widened at the horrifying (albeit, without context, very vague) revelation. Even so, Odin refused to yield.
“At the very least, I got to meet people who genuinely cared about me. Perhaps it wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t as cruel. I don’t regret befriending them, mind you, but I lament the conditions for the basis of the encounter. For that, I cannot forgive you. And I’m glad that I can finally live without you haunting me.”
Breathless, he turned to Guwon and smiled wryly, announcing: “Hyung, I think I’m done now.”
Guwon choked out a hysterical laugh and tousled the boy’s hair, deactivating his transformation.
“You did well. I’m certain that you got your point across.”
In truth, Mr. Kim was frozen in position, speechless at Odin’s intrepidity. The human’s expression was so deplorable that it was derisory. It was like all of his dreams had been dashed before his very eyes.
His wretchedness was honestly getting annoying, though.
Guwon quirked an eyebrow and said derisively, “Well, are you daft? Leave us. Ought you not to fulfill your tasks for today? Don’t let us keep you.”
Sometimes, the demon king could be downright mean.
On cue, the Secretive Plotter reached for his sword handle, earning a yelp from his target. Guwon had a severe case of déjà vu. Joonghyuk had pulled the same stunt last week.
Whimpering, Mr. Kim scrambled to his feet and scurried away, smarting in ignominy whilst his associates muckraked in the background. Typical mobs.
A beat passed. Then, Guwon drawled succinctly, “So…that just happened.”
A snort. Soon, the whole band was wheezing and simpering, the dense atmosphere fragmented by Guwon’s maladroit remark, succeeded by heartfelt compliments at Odin for growing a spine and also Guwon for degrading their father in public.
[Well done,] praised the Secretive Plotter, effecting the readers to blush and grin sunnily at him.
Odin tugged him over, beckoning him to wrap his arms around them. The remaining Outer Gods followed suit, forming a group hug, with the Oldest Dreams giggling in the center.
The scab in their hearts from their father’s tyranny had begun to heal into a faint blemish, and his aghast bearing from Odin’s ebullition and Guwon’s prestige would forever silence him into obeisance and contrition. All in all, it was a congenial epilogue to their sorrowful saga.
The young lord Dokja squeezed his junior parallel’s shoulder and said cheekily, “Hey, want to resume that tour?”