Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was a normal, beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds outside were singing, and Kim Dokja was sitting in the living room, dumbly staring at an invitation card that was on the verge of crumpling in his fingers. On the card’s front, this was written:

You are cordially invited to the ■■ High School reunion on campus, which will take place on ■■, 18:00. There will be fresh catering, drinks and music. Please feel free to bring your significant other(s) if any. We hope to see you there!

　　Of all things that Dokja expected to find in the mail, this was definitely not one of them.

　　His adoptive daughter Biyoo, who was in her humanoid form sitting next to her father, stated matter-of-factly: [You’ve been staring at that thing for five minutes now. Aren’t you going to do something about it?]

　　Dokja blinked at the card, then at her, and blurted, “…How in the world did they get my address?”

　　[That’s what you’re worried about?!]

　　Dokja shrugged back helplessly, sweating bullets like the card was going to blow up in his hands. Maybe that would be a blessing. Dying sounded awfully nice this time of year, though it would be cruel to feed his nebula more trauma.

　　“It’s either that or remembering the people who had made my life a living hell. Gosh, they must be so old by now.”

　　It had been more than twenty-two years since the scenarios had ended. Adding the couple of years during which the scenarios occurred, plus the thirteen years Dokja had spent reading Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World, minus the three years spent in high school… Wow, that was over thirty years since Dokja had last seen his classmates, and the constellation had not aged a day past twenty-eight. If he attended the reunion, he would practically be a vampire amongst a crowd of squishy humans. One more reason to decline the invitation.

　　Sensing her guardian’s turmoil, Biyoo said gently, [You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Father. After all, those people made you miserable.]

　　No kidding. The jeers and insults, the beatings, the bystanders not lifting a finger to help him… These were all memories that Dokja sometimes wished to forget.

　　“I know,” he agreed. “But considering my reputation as the Demon King of Salvation, refusing the offer might depict me as a coward. And I’ve already made peace with my experiences with Song Minwoo.”

　　By making peace, he meant punching Song Minwoo into a bloody pulp until the guy begged for mercy, and Han Sooyoung coldheartedly killing him not even minutes later. Should Dokja thank her for that? Probably apologize, too, due to the target put on her back for killing a werewolf.

　　There were definitely pros and cons to participating in this reunion. However, this was a decision that Dokja felt should not be made alone. Speaking of which, the invitation mentioned bringing partners along…

　　Significant others, huh…?

　　He smiled wryly at Biyoo and requested: “Can you bring Yoo Joonghyuk and Han Sooyoung over? We need to have a discussion.”

“Absolutely not,” Sooyoung said abruptly after Dokja explained his current dilemma, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “I don’t want you to go a hair follicle’s width near those bastards.”

　　Dokja ogled at her, eyes wide with bewilderment as he retorted, “I’m a fully grown adult? I can take care of myself just fine.”

　　“You were a suicidal rat during the scenarios and a suicidal rat before. I’m not buying it.”

　　Did no one have any faith in him at all?

　　Dokja threw his hands up in the air and spun his head to Yoo Joonghyuk, seeking any form of assistance.

　　Instead, the former regressor pointed out: “You were malnourished and exhausted before the apocalypse. That does not qualify as taking care of yourself.”

　　This was betrayal at its finest. Were they not companions separated by life and death? Dokja thought that they had something special.

　　“I’m perfectly healthy now! Can you guys stop focusing on my past and actually give me some legitimate arguments as to why I should or should not go?”

　　“Actually, yeah,” snarked Sooyoung, “because we all know that your classmates are the primary reason why you—” She made a slicing motion at her own neck.

　　Both Dokja and Joonghyuk stiffened upon witnessing the crude gesture. Unfortunately for them, Sooyoung was not a very circumspect woman. It was obvious what she was trying to convey, even though the method was inaccurate. It would have made more sense if she pointed at a window and hopped in place.

　　Shut up, Dokja told himself. You promised yourself that you would never do such a thing again, remember?

　　Sooyoung, having noticed the men’s discomfort, sobered and apologized: “I’m sorry. That was harsh of me.”

　　“No, no.” Dokja shook his head and sighed. “You were right to be concerned. It was the undeniable truth.”

　　Indeed, if he were a more timid man, he would have concluded the session just like that. There would be nothing wrong with it. If he had to encounter those cruel faces one more time, those devils disguised in human pelts with their hands concealing claws that drew blood and mouths hiding tongues unleashing spittle on his once vulnerable, bruised body, what would he do? Flee like the wimp that he used to be? Kill himself to escape that nightmare? Would he even be able to escape by doing so? Or would their sins contaminate his very soul beyond repair?

　　Yet harming himself would have been exactly what they had wanted. They had leeched off of his suffering. He would never let that happen again.

　　It was at this moment that Joonghyuk spoke up.

　　“It seems that regardless of what we say, you have made your decision already.”

　　Dokja hoisted his head and queried, “Pardon?”

　　Joonghyuk pointed at the other man’s starry irises and explained: “Your eyes are filled with resolve. In the end, you feel that you should go to the reunion anyway.”

　　Dokja could not bring himself to refute that statement while his associate constellation suspired.

　　“Darn it, Kim Dokja. If you had already decided on what to do, then you should just say so outright.”

　　“Ah, but I wanted your opinions before I finalized everything,” Dokja placated, lifting his hands in surrender. “Please don’t be mad.”

　　One of the stupidest things that a person could ever do was plead for someone else to not get angry. It would often backfire and make the other party more upset and simultaneously feel guilty. Luckily for Dokja, Sooyoung was putting in quite the effort to rein in her temper.

　　“I—” The writer rubbed her forehead and hissed, looking like the epitome of a disgruntled cat. “I still think that this is a horrible idea.”

　　“I know.”

　　“But you plan on doing it anyway.”

　　“Pretty much, yes.”

　　A beat.

　　“…What are we going to do with you?”

　　Dokja laughed indulgently at hearing Sooyoung groan and said, “Sorry.”

　　Sooyoung nonchalantly flapped a limp hand at Dokja’s face and lamented, “Aw, forget it. But if your classmates do one step out of place, they’re dead meat.”

　　Dokja perked up, completely ignoring the author’s threat of potential murder, and exclaimed, “So, you and Yoo Joonghyuk will come with me?”

　　Joonghyuk responded, “The invitation did suggest having others escort you.”

　　He could see those dark orbs sparkling as the reader stood up from his seat to wrap Joonghyuk and Sooyoung in a tight embrace.

　　“Thank you,” Dokja told them sincerely. “You guys are the best.”

　　If anyone felt his arms trembling slightly, they chose not to mention it.

　　Joonghyuk hummed and patted Dokja on the back. Although not a single word was produced, the dreamer understood the other’s sentiments.

　　On the other hand, Sooyoung was less interested in partaking in sappiness and added, “We should bring Biyoo to the reunion and have her stream the whole thing.”

　　The grin that curled across Dokja’s lips was befitting for a demon king as the reader concurred: “Oh, absolutely.”

　　If the situation ever escalated, at least they would have recorded evidence.

　　Then, Joonghyuk thoroughly ruined Dokja’s mood by inquiring: “How are you going to explain the reunion with your younger self?”

　　“Ah.”

“You’re kidding me,” was what fifteen-year-old Kim Dokja—the former Oldest Dream and dubbed Odin for convenience—said when the adult Dokja stopped by the other’s worldline and announced the news about the high school reunion. The two Dokjas were sitting in the kitchen sharing a pot of piping hot tea and some assorted homemade pastries, but judging Odin’s ashen face, the younger boy had lost his appetite.

　　“I’m not,” affirmed Guwon—which was the chosen alias for the adult Dokja—as he sipped his tea.

　　“I’m starting to think that you’re absolutely insane, hyung,” bemoaned Odin, burying his head into his small palms. “Your old high school was some of the worst years of your life, and you’re still going to revisit that place?”

　　It took a second for Guwon to register that Odin attended a different high school, having first been introduced to everyone in the form of a middle schooler. The high school environment that Guwon had been in had consisted of bullies whom he knew since junior high or even before then. Odin had the privilege of never bumping into such despicable vermin again.

　　“Pot, meet kettle,” the elder countered mildly. “I clearly recall you accompanying me to Tartarus and giving our abusive father the verbal smackdown of a lifetime. Tartarus, of all places! A normal person would balk at the idea of going there.”

　　“I—” Odin lifted a finger to rebut such a declaration, yet failed to conjure up a defense. “Yeah, okay. I got nothing.”

　　It came to show that perhaps both Dokjas were a bit warped in the noggin. To their companions, this was old information.

　　“Anyway!” cried Odin. “You’re basically going to come across your former bullies, who are now middle-aged while you don’t look a day over twenty, with your partners as your bodyguards and Biyoo filming the entire event live?”

　　“That’s what is expected,” Guwon confirmed.

　　Odin shook his head furtively and promulgated, “It sounds like an absolute fiasco.”

　　“It most likely will be.”

　　The lad chortled hysterically and announced: “I’m definitely watching that stream when the time comes.”

　　“I sure hope you do,” said Guwon, “because I won’t be enjoying that party—believe me.”

　　Odin simply giggled in the expense of Guwon’s misery and took a huge bite of a soft peach tart.

　　“Good luck, then, hyung. You’re surely going to need it.”

Eventually, the evening of the dreaded event arrived. Dokja, Joonghyuk and Sooyoung decided to wear all-black ensembles consisting of leather jackets and jeans, plus silver chain accessories like necklaces, pant chains, belt chains and tie chains. Sooyoung and Joonghyuk opted for turtleneck shirts while Dokja donned a dress shirt and necktie. All three looked absolutely stunning, though they were trying to keep their cool for what was nascent. (The dark attire certainly was not helping much.)

　　The trio members along with Biyoo were currently walking toward Dokja’s old high school. Biyoo hovered above their heads in her dokkaebi form, the only splash of white in a sea of ebony.

　　Seeing blue windows continually popping up in his line of vision, Dokja knew that his loyal constellation and Outer God supporters had flooded into Biyoo’s channel.

　　All in all, it was the usual commentary. The constellations were being quite lively at this hour.

　　“Thank you, Mother and Uriel,” Dokja said out loud, giving the sky a minuscule smile.

　　Today’s weather was perfect. The sun rays shining through the trees made a picturesque view, and the light breeze caressed his face like a goodnight kiss, calming his nerves. It was nice and cool and quiet outside, the ideal conditions for an outdoor party.

　　The peace was interrupted just a tad by another indirect message—only this time, it was from someone who rarely texted in the channel.

　　999^th regression Yoo Joonghyuk. Dokja’s favorite regression turn in the original novel and his hero. Dokja felt a faint blush unconsciously rise in his cheeks as he smiled shyly in exchange.

　　Immediately after that…

　　Sorry, Gabriel. At this rate, Uriel was going to destroy her entire residence and go broke.

　　Oh. Oh, no.

　　On cue, Biyoo disappeared in a puff of smoke with a resounding [Ba-aht!], intending to remain invisible for the next several hours.

　　Dokja fought back a gulp as he stared at the unforgiving gateway of the school entrance, his palms clammy and freezing. It was like those doors were welcoming him back to hell, and he had literally been in Tartarus in the past.

　　There were no happy memories behind that fence.

　　Then, he felt hands grabbing onto his own—one small and manicured, and another large and calloused. He squeezed back, a rush of serenity seeping into his skin as he took a deep breath. Those people could not hurt him anymore.

　　Using this story, Dokja could sneak past the crowd without garnering unwanted attention. Only those who were already aware of the story could detect his presence.

　　Joonghyuk opened the doors for his companions, and the trio stepped inside.

　　The front courtyard was bustling with middle-aged alumni in semi-casual clothing. There were fewer people than expected, since some former students (read: Song Minwoo) had perished during the scenarios, a solemn reminder of the modern world’s direful history. Tables were packed with food—including appetizers, entrées and snacks—and a combination of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks.

　　Dokja briefly wondered if smuggling liquor on school grounds despite it being the weekend was actually legal. Ultimately, he chose not to think about it.

　　There was also a DJ playing trending pop tracks. Dokja recognized one of them as a song that Uriel, Sun Wukong and ABFD had recently released to the public. He could hear the system windows ringing in his ear, presumably messages from the artists themselves for discovering their own music being played during this particular festivity.

　　After hustling to an empty, private spot in the field with a table set and ascertaining that no one was around to bother him and his chaperones (Sooyoung had stolen some food and beverages along the way while Joonghyuk examined them with a critical eye), Dokja deactivated his story.

　　Dokja chuckled to himself. Sometimes, his stories acted more sentient than they usually let on. It was cute, to be honest.

　　“Nothing was spiked,” Joonghyuk reported as Sooyoung handed Dokja a plate of pasta and a flask of fruit juice before digging into her own meal.

　　“That’s good,” Dokja hummed before jerking his head at Joonghyuk. “Are you going to eat anything?”

　　“I don’t eat food made by other people.”

　　Typical Joonghyuk—always so stubborn. Dokja caught Sooyoung rolling her eyes in the corner of his sight.

　　The reader said, “If I feed you, will you eat?”

　　For a few seconds, Joonghyuk stayed silent, his stoic black eyes staring into Dokja’s shiny pleading ones. Then, he nodded brusquely, the tips of his ears a deep red.

　　Seriously, this guy could be surprisingly docile. Whatever happened to the rough and gruff Yoo Joonghyuk? Did Dokja tame him like how Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung tamed beasts and insects?

　　Sooyoung gagged as she yelped, “Are you acting like a wife in front of my food, Kim Dokja?”

　　Dokja raised his eyebrows and saccharinely rejoined: “Want me to feed you, too, Sooyoung-ah?”

　　“No, thanks. You need to eat more. You’re all skin and bones.”

　　Rude. Dokja was pretty sure that he had gained a healthy physique after being released from Lee Seolhwa’s hospital. Oh, well. Free food was free food.

　　Their dinner was finished rather quickly, for it was cheap compared to Joonghyuk’s gourmet-style dishes. Satisfied with the meal, the three cleared the table and stood up. It was enjoyable having some time to themselves with only Biyoo’s subscribers as extra company.

　　Of course, due to Dokja’s abysmal luck, such peace was bound to be broken at some point.

　　9,158 coins? That was a strange number. The younger Dokja must have been the one in control of the keyboard at the moment.

　　To further test the limits of Dokja’s fortune, an unfamiliar voice uttered: “Are you Yoo Joonghyuk?”

　　Turning to the direction of that voice, Joonghyuk became face to face with a middle-aged woman in a silk violet dress. A group of about five more people had gathered behind, goggling at the pro-gamer with expressions of awe.

　　So much for privacy. All the trio really did was delay the inevitable. It appeared that Dokja would have to confront his classmates whether he liked it or not.

　　Nevertheless, Sooyoung subtly shuffled herself in front of Dokja to hide his figure, though as a consequence of her short height, Dokja’s hair was still exposed, obliging the male to crouch onto the grass.

　　Joonghyuk asked crisply, “Who are you all?”

　　“Oh, I was a student at this school! So were the rest of those with me.” She gestured at a man with short hair and spectacles and introduced: “This guy here used to be our class president.”

　　The man bowed, whose gesture was returned by Joonghyuk and Sooyoung, the latter revealing her name and constellation modifier. Dokja, grafting to keep his legs off the ground, succumbed to exhaustion and sat down.

　　Having exchanged polite pleasantries, the woman continued: “What brings Yoo Joonghyuk-ssi and Han Sooyoung-ssi here? Are you affiliated with one of the former students?”

　　“And if we were?” Joonghyuk challenged.

　　“Then we should meet them! I’m sure everyone here wants to know the lucky one who managed to snatch the famous Yoo Joonghyuk and Han Sooyoung.”

　　A chorus of assent echoed behind her.

　　Here, Joonghyuk’s thick eyebrows narrowed. Those people were treating this situation as some sort of scoop. Did they not realize that their fellow alumnus was supposed to be the same age as them?

　　Sooyoung drawled, “I don’t know… They’re really shy and don’t like it when others try to pry into their business.”

　　Her wording was perhaps too unrefined to be considered appropriate. Dokja tugged the back of her jacket in faint rebuke.

　　“It’s all right,” he whispered gently, standing up gradually. “I can handle it.”

　　He could simply imagine the dozens of coin sponsorship messages in his inbox as he retreated from his hiding spot and meandered his way between Sooyoung and Joonghyuk. Thereupon, he typed an indirect message, ensuring that he suppressed his status.

　　The responses were expeditious. Sputters and gasps reverberated in the crowd as the alumni gaped at the celebrity ahead of them, supplemented with the occasional “Oh, my goodness. He looks so young and pretty!”

　　Indeed, he was. Without the facial censor after the scenarios’ conclusion, Dokja’s beauty had finally been divulged to the populace. Smooth milky skin, tidy hair, thin eyebrows each painted with a single stroke, a petit nose, dainty strawberry-hued lips and eyes twinkling like stars, with long lashes fanning his cheeks, Dokja looked like an angel in sinister apparel.

　　The woman in the purple dress stammered, “S-S-Salvation-nim, is this your real appearance?”

　　“Mm-hm. It’s authentic. Surprised?”

　　She opportunely had the tact to not ask if he had gotten any plastic surgery. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but Dokja would have been offended if anyone insinuated that he did.

　　“Ah, yes, I see… What are you doing here?”

　　“Why else would I be here? I came here with Joonghyuk-ah and Sooyoung-ah.”

　　“You mean…you are the mysterious alumnus whom they were referring to?”

　　He shrugged, beaming as his partners reached over to clasp his hands in theirs, entangling their fingers together. The three were squished against each other like a sandwich, but rather than feel cramped, Dokja instead felt secure between them.

　　The class president stepped forward, scrutinizing Dokja’s visage.

　　“I beg your pardon, Salvation-nim. I feel as though you are familiar, but I cannot recognize who you are. Can we ask for your name?”

　　So, that was how it was. Dokja was nonplussed by this innocent question, for when he was still a high school student, he preferred being invisible. It was better to blend in than be targeted as the son of a murderer. Naturally, the more malicious students would physically and verbally harass him whenever the opportunity arose, so Dokja disappeared posthaste from their lives the instant he graduated.

　　How would they behave once they realized whom they had maltreated all those years ago? Dokja desperately wished to find out.

　　“My name is Kim Dokja,” he said in a bitter tone, his eyes constricting astutely as he gauged his classmates’ reactions. “I’m sure you’ve all heard that name somewhere.”

　　It was like a light switch had been flicked on. The alumni’s eyes bulged to the width of saucers, rubbernecking stupidly at the young man who smiled frostily at them and his partners glaring daggers into their pathetic miens.

　　This. The horror on their faces. This was exactly what he had prophesied.

　　“Ah, Kim Dokja-ssi,” the class president whimpered fretfully. “It has been a very long time.”

　　The woman in the purple gown was not faring much better, her hands shaking as she agreed, “Yes, it has been so many decades…”

　　Dokja snorted, his countenance resembling that of a swindler.

　　“I remember you,” he said coolly. “You used to insult me in the hallway whenever I passed by you.”

　　Bullseye. Dokja observed with a prudently curbed epicaricacy as her posture crumbled.

　　Her mean face, void of wrinkles and stress in her adolescence… He could still imagine it after all those years.

　　Struggling for words, the woman could only admit: “Yes… I was young and rash. I should have known better than to act with so little decorum.”

　　Woefully for her, Dokja’s companions refused to give her and her buddies any room to vindicate their case.

　　“You and your friends should not have treated Dokja like that, period,” Joonghyuk admonished, his frown taut. “Even a child would know better than to touch or speak to a peer with the intent to hurt. What made you think that reminding him of his trauma was a good idea? Were you all asking for trouble? Trying to shape him into a real ax-murderer? You’re lucky that Dokja isn’t that kind of person.”

　　“Really, what was wrong with you people?” Sooyoung chimed in, adding fuel to the fire. “Just how trashy was Dokja’s neighborhood back then? None of us had to deal with such disrespect and abuse to such an agree when we were little.”

　　Dokja would like to contend that the neglect from which Joonghyuk and Sooyoung had suffered during their youth was also devastating and that traumas ought not to be compared, but Sooyoung would not appreciate hearing that right now.

　　To make matters more chaotic, the constellations were having a field day online.

　　It seemed that the ones sharing the Secretive Plotter’s account were not done yet, because Dokja continued to receive coin sponsorship messages of apparently random values. 41, 666, 999 and another 9,158…

　　The teenage Dokja was one-hundred percent earnest when he claimed that he would watch the stream to completion. Goodness gracious. The current Oldest Dream was afraid that his tinier counterpart would someday frivolously drain the Secretive Plotter’s wallet. He needed to put a stop to that.

　　“Guys,” he addressed his comrades. “I think you all got the memo across. I’m positive that my previous schoolmates have learned their lesson, haven’t they?”

　　His drone that was directed to those in question caused them to straighten swiftly and vigorously nod their heads, their gazes beseeching for a shred of clemency.

　　A clique of constellations ranging between narrative and myth grade, Outer Gods and transcendents… Those poor civilians stood no chance in a fight.

　　Taking pity on the humans, Dokja said, “I believe that we created enough of a scene tonight. Joonghyuk-ah, Sooyoung-ah, would you like to go home early?”

　　The atmosphere was so painfully awkward that he suddenly wanted to go to bed and sleep.

　　Sooyoung murmured her assent and Joonghyuk grunted, which Dokja interpreted as a yes.

　　Nodding in return, he bade the alumni: “I’m afraid that we will have to retire, so please excuse us. Have a pleasant evening.”

　　Upon bowing shallowly at the stunned grizzled lot, he tugged at his companions’ hands and led them away, past the school gates and to the open route home. Not once did he rotate his head as he power-walked far from the academy.

　　His subscribers wished him good night, slowly logging out until only the Secretive Plotter’s account was still active.

　　Dokja giggled in spite of himself.

　　“It’s a promise. Who knows? Maybe I’ll see you guys in my dreams tonight.”

　　He received 9,158 coins for the final time, and the Outer God’s account shut off.

　　Feeling soothed, he, Joonghyuk and Sooyoung strolled side by side together, the sky dimming into various fiery shades of pink, orange and yellow. Biyoo disabled her invisibility and transformed into her humanoid form, prompting Dokja to carry her in his arms. The little girl snuggled in his clasp and emitted a sound akin to a purr.

　　For a minute, everyone ambled in quietude, simply listening to the chirping of nocturnal insects and witnessing fireflies flutter near the grass. Subsequently, Sooyoung chose to vocalize her thoughts.

　　“I don’t suppose you’ll be invited to another class reunion in the next five to ten years?”

　　Dokja huffed out a laugh and shook his head.

　　“I wonder about that myself. It would be a miracle if I see my classmates again within the year. But enough about that. Let’s go tell everyone at home what just happened. I’ll bet that they can’t wait to hear the news.”

　　With that in mind, the four headed home, their bellies full and their hearts at ease as they contrived a new story to tell their family.