Chapter Text
Chapter 1 — 3807
There are dreams that never seem to end. Dreams that, once you wake up, leave behind a sense of loneliness. Like a void occupying the place where something precious once was. A dream ruthlessly leaving you emptier and emptier with each passing second.
Dokja woke up with a jolt and felt the subway halt. Only then did he realize he had dozed off for a while.
"The next station is..."
The automated voice rang out. He stared at the display panel showing the number of stations the subway covered and realized that his station hadn't arrived yet. He checked the time. It was seven o'clock.
Dazedly, he looked at the passengers and slowly realized that he had only dozed off for a very short while. He hadn't even dreamed.
Yet what was this indescribable emptiness he was feeling? What was this mental fog that didn't allow him to think properly?
His phone, still in his hand, was open to a web novel website. He had dozed off while reading Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World.
Dokja concluded that the end of a decade-long novel was the reason for this strange emptiness and loneliness. The novel that had guided him from his days as a middle school student, using it to cope with bullying, to a temporary office worker with no permanent position or stability, was finally coming to an end.
Three thousand one hundred and forty-nine chapters.
Yet it seemed that the novel was still incomplete, since its epilogue hadn't been released yet.
He was still refreshing the final chapter when he noticed someone peeking at his phone.
Looking up, he saw Yoo Sangah from HR staring at the screen with a strange expression.
How was he supposed to describe it?
It seemed like a mix of disgust and sympathy.
Dokja concluded that his coworker was looking down on his habit of reading web novels in his spare time. Yoo Sangah was a brilliant person. She studied new languages in her free time and was incredibly hardworking. That was the reason she had become a permanent employee at the company while he had not.
Yet she wasn't the type to judge someone based on their hobbies.
At least, that was what he thought of her.
So what was that expression?
She was now looking directly at him, opening and closing her lips as if she was hesitating to say something—or perhaps trying to come up with an excuse as to why she had been staring at him like that.
"The next station is..."
Before she could say anything, Dokja stood up from his seat.
"My station has come, Sangah-ssi."
If that expression had been strange before, he didn't even know what to call it now.
He had never seen that expression on Yoo Sangah's face before.
Was it the expression of someone who lost something?
Not the ordinary disappointment of a bad day, nor the frustration of a missed opportunity.
It looked closer to grief. It made no sense.
They were coworkers.
It was strange.
Really strange.
He walked over to the automatic doors, ignoring her.
A small boy was chatting with his mother while holding a box of grasshoppers. He had been talking the entire time, but now he was staring at Dokja.
A chill ran down his spine.
He turned his back to everyone, yet he could still feel their stares burning a hole through the back of his head.
He probably needed more sleep.
The subway felt strange today.
He got off at his station and started walking home.
While getting off, he had looked at the compartment number, without any particular reason.
3807
He had felt a sense of Deja Vu, which he couldnt shake off no matter what.
He reached his shabby one room apartment which was on the outskirts of Seoul.
This was what he could afford right now.
He had never dreamed of a lavish or bigger house.
Or had he?
Dokja went straight to bed. He slept for a long time. He dreamt a lot, usually.
And he woke up feeling empty, as usual.