Chapter Text
It’s way harder to make friends these days than people believe it, especially if someone like Kim Dokja comes from a dark past that is popularily well known from the book his mother wrote, “Underground Killer” which even reached Kyobo’s Bestsellers list, which fully details their past.
If you’re not like Kim Dokja, congratulations you have a bigger chance of making friends. If you are like Kim Dokja or even Kim Dokja himself, then I have some bad news. But don’t worry, this story is not all that bad even though it follows Kim Dokja himself.
Even with all this, he is still an average unknown student, only being recognized by his name for the things that have happened.
Kim Dokja had long since learned that people only looked at him for two reasons. The first was curiosity. The second was pity. Neither lasted very long.
Most students lost interest after the first few weeks of school. They would whisper his name once or twice in the hallways, search up articles during lunch break, maybe even read excerpts from “Underground Killer” out loud with poorly hidden fascination. After that, Kim Dokja simply became background noise again.
And honestly, he preferred it that way.
He looked up from his novel.
His homeroom teacher stood near the front of the class, adjusting her glasses with a sigh that already sounded exhausted despite it being barely eight in the morning.
“The principal asked for the festival volunteer list. Since nobody signed up…” Her eyes swept across the classroom full of students suddenly pretending to be deeply interested in their desks. “…I’ll be assigning people myself.”
A collective groan erupted.
Kim Dokja lowered his gaze back to his phone.
The ‘not my problem’ mentality was showing full force as always.
“Han Sooyoung.”
“Unfair.”
“Lee Jihye.”
“Actually, I still have trauma from last year.”
“You survived last year just fine.”
The class laughed.
Kim Dokja kept scrolling through the chapter he’d been reading under the desk. The protagonist had just been betrayed for the fourth time in twenty chapters. Honestly impressive.
“And…” the teacher continued. “Kim Dokja.”
Silence.
Dokja blinked once before slowly lifting his head.
Why me?
Several students turned around instinctively. A few exchanged looks. Someone near the windows whispered, “Does he even talk to people?”
Kim Dokja ignored them.
“Teacher,” he said flatly, “I have no festival skills.”
“You can carry boxes.”
That was unfortunately true. Before he could refuse again, the teacher added one final name.
“And Yoo Joonghyuk will supervise.” The atmosphere changed immediately.
The girls near the back straightened up. Somebody muttered, “Of course he is.” Another student quietly complained that life was unfair.
Kim Dokja resisted the urge to click his tongue.
Yoo Joonghyuk.
There was genuinely no one more irritating.
Top grades. Good at sports. Teachers adored him. Students followed him around like ducklings. He even had that annoyingly handsome face that looked like it belonged on some luxury skincare advertisement.
Kim Dokja hated people like that.
Or maybe hated was too strong.
Disliked intensely.
“…Any objections?” the teacher asked.
Yoo Joonghyuk, seated near the front as always, answered calmly. “No.” Of course not. Perfect students never complained.
Kim Dokja considered pretending to be sick for the next week. Unfortunately, his attendance record was already terrible enough.
The bell rang soon after, ending the discussion.
Students immediately crowded around Yoo Joonghyuk’s desk.
“Joonghyuk, are you joining the basketball event too?”
“Did you finish the math assignment?”
“My friend from class two said—”
Kim Dokja walked past without listening further.
He almost made it out of the classroom before someone called his name.
“Kim Dokja.” He stopped. Not because he wanted to.
Because Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice had a strange weight to it. Calm, low, annoyingly steady.
Dokja turned around slowly.
Up close, Yoo Joonghyuk somehow looked even more unfairly put together. His uniform was neat despite the long school day ahead, dark eyes sharp and focused directly on him.
Kim Dokja immediately felt suspicious.
“What.”
“…We should discuss the festival duties.”
“No need. Just tell me what to carry and I’ll carry it.”
A few nearby students snickered.
Yoo Joonghyuk ignored them completely.
“We’ll meet after school.”
“That sounds terrible.”
For the first time, something almost amused flickered across Yoo Joonghyuk’s face.
Kim Dokja stared.
Did this bastard just almost smile?
“I’ll wait by the student council room,” Yoo Joonghyuk said.
Kim Dokja wanted to refuse.
Instead, for some reason, he found himself saying, “Fine.”
Then he left before the conversation could continue.
The hallway air felt cooler than the classroom. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked toward the stairs, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling crawling up his neck.
It wasn’t unusual for people to stare at him.
But Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him differently. Not carefully. Not fearfully. Not curiously. Just… directly. As if Kim Dokja was actually worth paying attention to. Honestly, it was creepy. It was probably pity for his situation that nobody actually cared about, except some teachers.
By lunchtime, Kim Dokja had already decided that Yoo Joonghyuk was doing this on purpose.
There was no other explanation.
Everywhere he went, he could feel Yoo Joonghyuk’s gaze somehow finding him through the crowd like a targeting system specifically designed to ruin his peace.
When Dokja sat alone on the rooftop stairs, Yoo Joonghyuk passed by the hallway window below.
When Dokja went to the library during break, Yoo Joonghyuk appeared at the check-out desk returning books.
When Dokja bought a cheap bread roll from the vending machine after deciding the cafeteria was too crowded, Yoo Joonghyuk walked past with his group of friends at the exact same moment.
It was horrifying.
Kim Dokja bit into the bread with a look of deep betrayal.
“This school is cursed.”
“Talking to yourself again?”
Dokja glanced sideways.
Han Sooyoung dropped into the seat beside him without permission, stealing the second milk carton from his tray before he could stop her.
“You’re staring,” Dokja said.
“You’re interesting today.”
“That sounds insulting.”
“It is.”
Han Sooyoung leaned back lazily, twirling the milk carton between her fingers. Unlike most people, she didn’t avoid him or act awkward around him. She simply treated him like an unfortunate stray cat she occasionally tolerated.
Which, honestly, was probably the closest thing Kim Dokja had to friendship.
“You got assigned with Yoo Joonghyuk, right?” she asked.
Dokja looked offended. “Don’t remind me.”
“Girls from class three are already jealous.”
“Why?”
Han Sooyoung stared at him for a long moment.
“You really don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“…Never mind.”
Dokja narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
Before he could question her further, the cafeteria suddenly grew louder.
A group of students near the entrance shifted excitedly, whispers spreading through the room almost instantly.
“Yoo Joonghyuk’s here.”
“He skipped lunch yesterday, right?”
“Did he cut his hair?”
Kim Dokja physically felt his lifespan shorten.
“Do people always act like this around him?” he asked, muttering his question to her, as if finally noticing this happening now that Yoo Joonghyuk is his problem now.
Han Sooyoung snorted. “Pretty privilege.”
Yoo Joonghyuk entered the cafeteria calmly, seemingly unaware—or simply uncaring—about the attention surrounding him. A few students greeted him immediately.
He acknowledged them politely. Then his eyes moved across the room.
And landed directly on Kim Dokja. Dokja almost choked on bread.
Why. Why was he looking here.
Han Sooyoung’s expression slowly became delighted in the worst possible way.
“Oh,” she whispered. “This is getting interesting.”
“Nothing is getting interesting.”
Yoo Joonghyuk began walking toward them.
Absolutely to the hell not.
Kim Dokja stood up immediately. “I suddenly remembered I have somewhere else to be.”
“You’ve eaten half a bread roll.”
“A tragic sacrifice.”
He grabbed his bag and escaped before Yoo Joonghyuk could reach the table.
Behind him, Han Sooyoung burst out laughing.
Kim Dokja ignored her and continued walking through the hallway with increasing speed.
Unfortunately, fate clearly hated him today.
“Kim Dokja.”
He stopped walking with the expression of a man moments away from collapsing.
Slowly, he turned around.
Yoo Joonghyuk stood a few steps behind him, tall enough that several passing students openly stared at the contrast between them.
Kim Dokja looked tired already.
“What now?”
“You left before we finished discussing the festival.”
“We never started discussing the festival.”
“Then let’s start now.”
Kim Dokja considered jumping out the nearest window.
“We can talk after school,” he said.
“We are talking after school.”
“Then why are you talking to me now?”
For a second, Yoo Joonghyuk seemed genuinely caught off guard by the question.
As if he himself didn’t know the answer.
“…Because I wanted to,” he finally said.
Kim Dokja stared at him blankly.
That was somehow the strangest answer he could’ve given. Around them, students had begun slowing down noticeably just to watch.
Kim Dokja could practically hear rumors forming in real time. This is how scandals start.
“You’re weird,” Dokja concluded.
A faint crease appeared between Yoo Joonghyuk’s brows.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“Yes.”
“…You admit it easily.”
“Because it’s true.”
Most people would’ve looked offended.
Yoo Joonghyuk only watched him quietly.
The silence stretched long enough to become uncomfortable.
Then—
“You shouldn’t skip meals,” Yoo Joonghyuk said suddenly.
Kim Dokja blinked.
“What?”
“You barely eat.”
“…Are you monitoring my eating habits now?”
“You always buy the cheapest bread from the vending machine.”
“That is somehow worse.”
For the first time since approaching him, Yoo Joonghyuk looked slightly uncertain. And strangely enough, that expression suited him less than confidence did.
Students nearby continued staring shamelessly.
Kim Dokja sighed.
“I’m leaving.”
“After school,” Yoo Joonghyuk reminded.
“Yes, yes. Student council room. Horrible fate. I remember.”
Dokja turned around again, waving dismissively without looking back.
He expected Yoo Joonghyuk to finally leave him alone.
Instead, he could still feel those eyes following him down the hallway.
Steady. Focused. Just enough to feel dangerous.