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Kim Dokja returned in the middle of winter.
Nobody knew how to react.
One moment the industrial complex was loud with arguments and Biyoo’s chirping, the next Yoo Joonghyuk’s sword had already been drawn before anyone else even realized a figure was standing near the entrance.
Then Lee Hyunsung cried.
Shin Yoosung nearly tackled Kim Dokja into the ground.
Even Yoo Sangah covered her mouth like she couldn’t believe it.
And in the middle of all of it, Han Sooyoung just stood there frozen.
Because Kim Dokja was smiling.
Like nothing happened.
Like he hadn’t disappeared beyond the Final Wall for years.
Like Han Sooyoung hadn’t practically destroyed herself trying to drag him back.
“You came back,” Lee Jihye whispered.
Kim Dokja rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Looks like it.”
Han Sooyoung felt irrationally angry hearing that voice again.
Not because she hated it.
Because she missed it too much.
And worse—
Something about it felt off.
Small things.
Tiny things nobody else noticed.
When Yoo Joonghyuk insulted him, Kim Dokja hesitated before responding, like he forgot the rhythm of there conversations. He stared at the empty train tracks too long. He looked at the members with warmth but sometimes confusion slipped through his expression before disappearing again.
Fragments.
Han Sooyoung noticed immediately.
Of course she did.
She was the one who pieced him back together.
The problem started two weeks later.
At first everyone was just happy Kim Dokja existed again.
The company began settling into something almost peaceful. They ate together. Argued together. Sometimes they even laughed.
It felt dangerously normal.
Then Han Sooyoung found the manuscript.
It was hidden beneath a pile of old papers in Kim Dokja’s room.
A familiar file.
“Ways of Survival — Revised”
Her stomach dropped.
Slowly, Han Sooyoung opened it.
The writing style was unmistakable.
Kim Dokja’s comments filled the margins, messy and sarcastic like always.
But the later pages became stranger.
Disconnected.
Entire events written incorrectly.
Some scenarios out of order.
And then—
Han Sooyoung stopped breathing.
A scene from the 1863rd regression.
Except it wasn’t accurate.
The details were wrong.
Kim Dokja remembered the outcome but not her words.
Not the conversation they had before she split her avatar.
Not the promise she made him remember.
Han Sooyoung stared at the page until the letters blurred.
“…Ah.”
That was all she could say.
Because suddenly she understood.
The Kim Dokja that returned wasn’t incomplete physically.
It was his stories.
Somewhere between countless world-lines and fragments of himself scattered across the universe, parts of Kim Dokja’s memories had been worn away.
And Han Sooyoung hated herself for caring.
Because he was alive.
He was HERE.
That should’ve been enough.
So why did it hurt everytime he forgot something?
That night, Han Sooyoung sat alone on the rooftop of the industrial complex, smoking despite promising Yoo Sangah she would stop.
Snow drifted slowly around her.
The cold barely registered anymore.
“You’re going to get yelled at for that.”
Han Sooyoung didn’t look up. “Thought you hated rooftops.”
“I hate alot of things.”
Kim Dokja sat beside her anyway.
For awhile neither of them spoke.
Below them the city lights flickered faintly, peaceful in a way the Star Stream never allowed.
Then Kim Dokja quietly asked,
“Why do you keep looking at me like I died?”
Han Sooyoung’s grip tightened around the cigarette.
Trust Kim Dokja to say the exact thing she didn’t want too hear.
“You did die.”
“You know what I mean.”
Unfortunately she did.
Han Sooyoung laughed weakly. “You really don’t remember, huh.”
Kim Dokja frowned slightly.
“That bad?”
She turned toward him finally.
And for one horrible second she could see it clearly.
This was Kim Dokja.
And it wasn’t.
The person in front of her still smiled the same way. Still sat with his shoulders slightly hunched. Still looked unbearably pathetic when confused.
But pieces were gone.
Important pieces.
The kind only she would notice.
“You forgot me,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
Kim Dokja froze.
Han Sooyoung immediately regretted saying it.
Not because it wasn’t true.
Because of the look on his face afterward.
“…No,” he said quietly.
“You forgot things about me.”
Silence.
Snow continued falling softly around them.
Kim Dokja looked down at his hands.
“I know there are gaps,” he admitted. “Sometimes I remember emotions before memories. Like my body knows something my head doesnt.”
Han Sooyoung looked away quickly.
That hurt more somehow.
Kim Dokja continued speaking carefully.
“When I saw Yoo Joonghyuk again, I remembered trust first.”
He smiled faintly.
“When I saw the kids, I remembered wanting to protect them.”
Then his voice softened.
“And when I saw you…”
Han Sooyoung’s chest tightened painfully.
“I remembered wanting to come back.”
The cigarette slipped from her fingers.
Kim Dokja looked genuinely nervous now which was honestly almost funny.
Almost.
“I don’t know what I forgot,” he admitted quietly. “But I know it mattered. Because everytime I look at you, it feels like I lost something important.”
Han Sooyoung laughed suddenly.
A broken sounding laugh.
“You idiot.”
“That’s becoming your catchphrase.”
“You absolute idiot.”
Her eyes burned.
God, this was humiliating.
After surviving outer gods and regressions and the apocalypse itself, she was crying over Kim Dokja being sincere.
Pathetic.
Kim Dokja shifted awkwardly before carefully reaching toward her hand.
Like he expected her too reject him.
Han Sooyoung stared at him for a long moment.
Then grabbed his sleeve tightly instead.
Warm.
Real.
Alive.
Kim Dokja blinked in surprise.
Han Sooyoung pressed her forehead against his shoulder before she could rethink it.
“You better remember eventually,” she muttered.
Kim Dokja hesitated.
Then slowly rested his head lightly against hers.
“I’ll try.”
“…That sounded unreliable.”
“It probably is.”
Han Sooyoung snorted weakly.
Below them, the city remained quiet.
No constellations.
No scenarios.
No dokkaebis watching there lives like entertainment.
Just snow falling over a world they fought impossibly hard too save.
And for the first time since Kim Dokja returned, Han Sooyoung allowed herself to believe something terrifying.
Maybe incomplete stories could still have happy endings.