Chapter Text
Mundanity is unusual in its quietness, Secretive Plotter thinks as he chops away at vegetables. While he hasn’t been an active participant in scenarios for years now, he had spent that time searching, combing through every worldline for hints to break past that final wall and confront the being who had put him through so much suffering. There hadn’t been much time put aside for resting of all things.
Technically, that drive had led him to the answer he sought, even if things ended up very differently than first intended. There isn’t any regret over abandoning his original goal though.
He finishes packing away the homemade lunch, carefully writing ‘Dokja’ on top. They may trade out who accompanies Dokja to school, but Secretive Plotter is the sole being in charge of providing meals after a particular incident involving Kim Namwoon and a stove fire.
What had been more concerning was the way that Dokja had simply watched the fire, feet rooted to the floor, as if it were up to the fire to decide if he should be burned or not.
Really, such a worrisome thing his former sponsor was.
Never would he have imagined this as his ending, living in a house with a group of people too close to call friends and too distant to call family. Lee Jihye and Kim Namwoon’s footsteps echo from upstairs. Much quieter steps, ushered forward by Uriel, approach from the stairway and down the hall to the kitchen.
It’s…peaceful. Peaceful and all so strange.
“Uh, good morning…” Dokja trails off, as he always does when it comes to addressing them. His hands grip his backpack straps tightly, and Secretive Plotter turns back to the lunch so that Dokja doesn’t see the frown growing. Uriel gives a pointed cough, and Secretive Plotter smooths out his expression.
“Good morning, Dokja.” Secretive Plotter holds out the lunch. “Here, for today. Make sure you eat well.”
Dokja nods, holding the simple container like it’s some sort of treasure. Whatever annoyance Secretive Plotter had been feeling fades. Even he had not been so hopeless as to see such trifling acts of kindness as miracles.
Whenever he has doubts about his choice- their choice- all it takes is a moment or two with Dokja to smother them once more. Is he unsatisfied? Partially. He spent countless years focused only on his vengeance or his final death. Those feelings need an outlet, one way or the other, though he does his best not to make Dokja aware of such things. But he cannot say he is unhappy here either.
It's Lee Hyunsung's day to walk Dokja to school, though the entire house makes sure to see him out the door. He waves back as he leaves, a small smile on his face. While not very expressive, his eyes are much brighter than they were before.
“You’re terrible at this,” Uriel jabs, leaning over the countertop once the pair has left. “I thought we all agreed to be gentle with the kid. He already jumps at the smallest disappointment.”
“And I thought we all agreed it would be a process,” he snaps back, putting away the last of the dishes.
“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re no good at it.” Her gaze lingers on him for an uncomfortably long moment. She heaves a sigh. “I really can’t see any trace of him in you. Are you sure you’re the same person?”
His already glum mood at the thought of Dokja’s trauma plunges even further. He grits his teeth, glad that he no longer carries a sword on him.
“Who knows.” Secretive Plotter dries his hands and trudges out back without another word. Uriel has the decency not to follow him.
Their house is close enough to urban areas for Dokja to walk to school, but isolated enough that no one calls into question the unusual power seeping out of its inhabitants. The backyard overlooks a small section of forest not overtaken by any construction. A small padded section fenced out by the house’s prior inhabitants encloses it away. Lee Lee Hyunsung had bought chairs and a table for it when they first moved, and Secretive Plotter has found he enjoys simply sitting in them, listening to the ambient noise. The privilege to simply watch the world exist, expecting nothing from it, is one he hadn’t known until now.
It's especially useful in times like these. He and the rest of the 999th round incarnations have never quite…gotten along, so to say. They had simply all looked at Dokja and agreed that the boy needed them. While Secretive Plotter thinks the rest of them have more or less gotten over their misgivings from back during the scenarios, at least enough to not be openly antagonistic, Uriel still finds the chance to try and dig underneath his skin like this. She should be thankful they all agreed not to fight physically lest they scare Dokja or tear the block apart, and that he has a millennia of experience in having to stew on his rage.
He doesn’t want to be known for a version of himself that no longer exists. As if they could pick apart the pieces of his soul and cherry pick the desired parts. 999th, 41st, 666th, Yoo Joonghyuk after Yoo Joonghyuk, he was none of them and yet a summation of them. The journey of nearly two thousand lifetimes.
And yet, across all of it, he can’t quite recall a moment like this, sitting and taking in the world as it is. No scenario, no wall. He can hear the wind rustle through the grass, enchanting in its simplicity.
Part of him wants to invite 41 out to enjoy the moment with him, but as tempting as the notion is, he refrains. The kkomas have gotten weaker since the events in the subway, the star stream's power fading by the day. It grows harder for them to keep their consciousness. Besides, they've earned this relief as well. If 41 is content resting, then even a person like him won't disturb that.
Instead, Secretive Plotter takes a breath and settles in. Mundanity may be strange in its quietness, but it is a welcome oddity. In fact, he thinks it’s something far past time to become accustomed too, and so he stays there, gazing on.
As peaceful as his life is these days, it is not a life without worry. Interacting with the other inhabitants of the house, trying to be a supportive figure to Dokja, maintaining their image in front of other residents of this world, ensuring Kim Namwoon and Lee Jihye don’t go around causing needless destruction, managing Uriel’s presence; the list could go on for another milenia.
But right now, none of those are his chief concern. No, it’s something more pressing and sudden.
Dokja is acting strange.
The first incident happens on a day like any other. They’ve planned to visit the library as a group to let Dokja peruse its contents and return the books already finished.
At first, Dokja had avoided books like they burned him, rejecting every offer for a story or something similar. He wouldn’t even read webnovels, shifting away whenever asked. Lee Jihye had been the one to get it out of him, that he was terrified of their reactions should he start reading once more, now that he knew the characters from his once beloved novel were real people he had watched for an eternity.
That notion had been gently talked out of him, and while Secretive Plotter is glad for it, considering how none of what occurred was intentional, he wonders if Dokja comes to rely on another novel just as much, will a new dream be born? Another person put through the same thing he was?
It shouldn’t happen with them here, not when Dokja is no longer alone against a world dead set on destroying him, but Secretive Plotter still wonders. No one else seems to share the sentiment, considering how cheery they all are. Well, besides Kim Namwoon, but a cheery Kim Namwoon, frankly, is an embarrassing sight to behold.
“I’m just saying, what fun is reading a book when you could be doing something actually fun,” Kim Namwoon says, walking alongside Lee Jihye and Dokja so that the younger boy is sandwiched between them. “It’s just a bunch of words on a page.”
Lee Jihye scoffs. “You’re just saying that because you’re illiterate.”
“I’ll show you who’s illiterate!” Kim Namwoon snaps, darting around Dokja to start poking at Lee Jihye’s side.
Dokja, meanwhile, levels Kim Namwoon with an unimpressed stare that goes unnoticed by the teen. “Doesn’t change that she’s right,” he mutters under his breath. From the amused glance Uriel and Lee Hyunsung share, Secretive Plotter isn’t the only one observing. It’s good to see the boy coming out of his shell in small, yet nonetheless meaningful ways.
Lee Jihye and Kim Namwoon manage to pull themselves out of their argument by the time they get past the front desk, though Secretive Plotter suspects it is thanks to Uriel whispering threats of no dinner in their ears.
The group quickly disperses into their usual positions when they come here. Uriel pretends to be browsing while actually keeping a close eye on Dokja- she’ll inevitably be distracted by some new trashy romance that has hit the shelves. Lee Jihye starts looking at comics and other things that aren’t actually books while Kim Namwoon tries to improve his image by pointing out all the ones he recognizes. Lee Hyunsung usually goes for either the historical or military section, though today he heads in the opposite direction, towards the…self help section? Secretive Plotter decides to ignore that, finding a chair in the teens section and closes his eyes.
He doesn’t care for reading anymore, but the library is comfortably quiet, filled just enough with the sounds of life as to not be isolating.
All is well, just another day passing peacefully by. That is, until he feels a tap on his shoulder. Secretive Plotter opens his eyes to find Dokja standing next to him, face drained of color.
“Can we go home?”
Secretive Plotter checks the nearby clock. It hasn’t even been an hour- these trips are a minimum of two hours on average.
“Sure, do you have new books for the week?”
Dokja shakes his head, rubbing his hands together as if trying to itch something off them. “Didn’t get any.”
That takes Secretive Plotter aback. “Are you sure?”
“Mhm,” Dokja hums, giving a small nod. “I’m good.”
“Well…” Secretive Plotter decides not to question it, more concerned about the way Dokja somehow appears to be growing paler. “Alright then. Go find Uriel and Hyunsung for me.”
Dokja speeds away on his task, and Secretive Plotter frowns after him. Finding Lee Jihye and Kim Namwoon, he relays Dokja’s wish to go home.
“Already?” Lee Jihye looks just as confused as he feels while Kim Namwoon silently cheers behind her.
“He’s not looking too well,” Secretive Plotter admits.
“What’s wrong with him then?” Kim Namwoon half snaps. “He’s not dying right? He’s too fragile.”
Lee Jihye smacks Kim Namwoon upside the head. “No he’s not dying you dumbass. We don’t just keel over and die.”
“Hey! Don’t be an ass!”
“Both of you be quiet,” Secretive Plotter grumbles. “We’re still in the library.”
Thankfully, both of them shut up, sharing a nervous glance with the other as they fall in step behind him. He hunts down Dokja quickly, glad to see the boy with Uriel and Lee Hyunsung already. Though maybe he should be more worried about the urgency at which Dokja gathered them.
“I had already checked out, but is everyone else ready?” Lee Hyunsung asks, receiving affirmatives all around.
Secretive Plotter keeps his eyes on Dokja though, the boy keeps his gaze trained on the floor, rocking back and forth on his feet nervously. He hasn’t done that since their first month or so of living together.
As they shuffle out of the building, Lee Hyunsung takes care to put himself behind Dokja, shadowing every step. Kim Namwoon pretends to act as usual, but in his flippant steps he never strays more than an arm's length away from the boy.
“He said his head was hurting,” Uriel mutters in Secretive Plotter’s ear. “But wouldn’t say anything else.”
Secretive Plotter hums, looking back at them without making it obvious.
Their trip home is relatively uneventful, opting to take the subway rather than walk as they usually do to save precious time. Under the fluorescent bulbs Dokja’s pallor seems more severe, though he says he’s fine. Just like always.
Dokja perks up, looking at the tracks. Secretive Plotter follows his gaze, curious as to what could have grabbed his attention when there’s been no sign of the next train. After a moment, Dokja hums.
“What is it?” Secretive Plotter asks.
Dokja jumps a bit, looking back at the tracks. “It’s nothing really…”
Secretive Plotter waits, expectant. Dokja squirms.
“I just thought I heard it coming.”
This may be much more serious than he thought, if Dokja is having auditory hallucinations.
Uriel crouches down to meet Dokja’s eyes. “Do you hear anything else? Feel anything strange?”
“No, just misheard.”
“People don’t usually go around hearing things, are you sure?” Kim Namwoon asks, poking Dokja’s shoulder.
“Hey don’t say it like that you’ll freak him out,” Lee Jihye hisses. Then turning back to Dokja, she smiles gently. “He’s just worried, ignore him.”
Dokja chuckles at that, a rare sound. “I know that.”
Even Lee Jihye is too shocked to say anything, and in her silence, Lee Hyunsung ruffles Dokja’s hair gently.
“Good,” he says.
Dokja touches his head with his fingertips after Lee Hyunsung’s hands leave him, as if feeling for any traces left behind. Uriel sweeps Dokja up in a hug, the two teens also crowding around.
Secretive Plotter smiles to himself. Or so he thought. From the small huddle of bodies surrounding Dokja, his grey eyes meet Secretive Plotters with a curious stare. Dokja is the one to look away first, but Secretive Plotter is left feeling oddly seen through.
When they do reach home, Dokja elects to go to his room, neither hungry nor in need of fever medication. A migraine, he think it is. But what could have caused it?
“He was fine this morning right?” Lee Jihye says, not daring to raise her voice above a whisper. Dokja has good ears, they’ve all come to learn, especially in the house. Her question is met with nods.
They’re gathered in the kitchen around the table, discussing what could have gone wrong. It’s something they started doing early on, to better manage the various bumps and troubles.
“Well, migraines can happen for a lot of reasons, I don’t think it’s something we could have prevented,” Lee Hyunsung argues gently. “He really just needs rest, we already tried to give him some medication.”
“But can’t we do more?”
“There’s no guarantee that is true.”
Uriel and Secretive Plotter speak up at the same time. He gives her a sharp glare, which she ignores.
Kim Namwoon snorts. “I agree, sitting around here whispering like chumps is stupid. Talking about something never fixed it.”
Lee Hyunsung gives a deep sigh, pressing a hand to his temple. “How about we wait before taking any drastic measures? If it happens again then we can start getting worried. Migraines happen sometimes, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“Fine,” Secretive Plotter mutters, only half convinced. He thinks the sentiment is shared given everyone else’s expressions.
“This might be a good sign in some ways,” Lee Hyunsung adds.
“Huh?” Kim Namwoon exclaims. “In what way? This just sucks.”
“He told Joonghyuk-ssi that he was uncomfortable with the situation and needed to leave, isn’t that better than what he’s been doing?”
Secretive Plotter grimaces at the mention of his old name from a person that isn’t Dokja, but begrudgingly he had given them permission to use it. Regardless, Hyunsung does have a point, he supposes. In consideration of Dokja’s tendencies, this is a remarkable improvement.
But despite that, Secretive Plotter can’t help but feel uneasy. He’ll have to keep an even closer eye on his former sponsor.
True to his concerns, the incidents continue. Nothing as major as the day in the library, but little moments keep piling up. Individually they could be ignored; together they are suspicious of a larger cause.
Dokja gets more migraines, some of them while in school, bad enough for the teachers to dismiss him of their own accord. He’s reading less and less, while waking up later and later. He says it might just be a cold, but cold medicine does nothing. Uriel even tries some more traditional medicines to no effect.
One morning, Dokja remarked to Lee Jihye that his clothes felt like they were too big for him. She had laughed it off, but when Dokja kept picking at the shoulder seams and his sleeves, she took note of it.
“I don’t understand it,” Secretive Plotter snaps. “What is going wrong?”
He’s sitting in the back again to try and calm his nerves, tapping his fingers against the hilt of his sword- dug out of his closet to bring him a vague sense of security.
“I wouldn’t know any more than you,” the little being on his shoulder replies. 41 hums, beady eyes tracking the movement of his fingers. “But it must be getting more serious.”
“Nothing terrible has happened yet, but something is happening.”
“To think he would worry you enough to summon me of all things,” 41 says.
“I know you were resting,” He says, feeling some remorse about disturbing the kkoma. 41 had been his most trusted confidant for years upon years, seeing every side to him. It was a thankless task. “There’s just no one else I can talk to like this.”
“I don’t mind. Resting is nice, but even that can get boring.” 41 jumps down, pudgy, doll-like hands holding onto the sleeve of Secretive Plotters coat. “It’s good seeing you like this.”
Secretive Plotter scoffs. “Like this?”
“Normal. Just another human,” 41 explains. “Worrying about simple things.”
The defensiveness he’d been feeling vanishes just as quickly as it had come. As always, 41 is the being who understands him the best.
“41, do you think it’s wrong of me to worry over him like this? Considering what he did?”
Even as a kkoma, 41 still manages to give a deadpan glare. “Why should I judge what’s right or wrong? If you’re worrying over him it’s because you want to. It’s none of my business.”
Secretive Plotter can’t refute that, so he goes back to staring at the greenery, fiddling with his sword.
“If you’re really that concerned, try asking him again.”
“He’ll never give a straight answer,” Secretive Plotter huffs.
41 lets it be at that, and the two bask in the silence together. Only when the front door opens does Secretive Plotter realize how late it has gotten; Dokja has come home from school.
Normally he would go to greet the boy and his escort- today’s chosen one is Jihye- but instead he stays sitting, turning just enough so as to better see and hear them. The door leading out here is made of glass, allowing him to see into the kitchen and the beginning of the hallway leading to the front room and stairs.
Dokja comes into full view first, setting down his backpack on the counter to first unload his lunch container. He takes the time to wash it by hand, as he always does. Such an earnest child. Jihye, sauntering in behind him, has none of the same charm. She pokes Dokja on the shoulder, and he laughs at whatever quip had accompanied the gesture.
Blond hair cuts through his line of sight- Uriel has come out from her room to greet the both of them in her obnoxiously cheery way. Dokja seems unannoyed, returning with a nervous smile of his own. Uriel gives Secretive Plotter a glance out of the corner of her eye, acknowledgement of his presence, but no more than that.
Ever observant, Dokja notices the small movement, peering around Uriel’s figure. His expression shifts at the sight of Secretive Plotter; whether that’s a good or bad thing, he can’t tell. Dokja heads upstairs to his room after conversing a bit more, so Secretive Plotter doesn’t think much of it. Instead he recalls Uriel’s whispered criticism, the ways that he’s slipped around Dokja previously.
He isn’t exactly built to be inviting, it shouldn’t be a surprise that his presence is intimidating. While Dokja is not expressly afraid of him, rarely does the boy approach him first. That is answer enough, and one he cannot begrudge the boy for.
There’s a knock on the door, and Secretive Plotter is pulled out of reverie once more, this time to Dokja giving him a small wave. The door opens, Dokja hesitating for a moment before crossing the threshold to join Secretive Plotter.
“Hey, Joonghyuk-ssi,” he greets, standing off to the side rather than settling down on one of the other chairs. Strange, how when Dokja says his reclaimed name, no strangeness accompanies it, as if a little piece of himself slots itself back into place for him and him alone. Dokja fidgets, hands tucked behind his back as he waits for a response.
“It’s nice to see you, Dokja,” Secretive Plotter says truthfully. A strange sentiment when they live together, but moments like this are precious still. “How was school? Any more migraines.”
“Oh, it was fine, same old. Not that they ever do anything interesting,” Dokja says, sounding oddly distracted.
“I see.” Not that he would actually know, the last time he was in a standardized educational environment was in his first life, which might as well be a speck of dirt in the cosmos. “Well…what subject was the least uninteresting?”
“...Biology?” He says, ending the statement of sorts with a breathy sort of laugh.
Only then does Secretive Plotter recognize Dokja’s isn’t antsy due to nerves, but the boy is trying his hardest to ‘ignore’ 41, who had shifted to lean against his other arm when Dokja arrived home, and is now leaning up against the limb while standing in Secretive Plotters lap. 41 gives no sign of life, apparently determined not to reveal his presence. “Ah, this is 41.”
“As in the 41st round?” Dokja asks, positively lighting up. He turns, eagerly examining 41 from a distance.
“Yes.”
Dokja flinches. “Sorry- I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“It’s fine,” Secretive Plotter says, determined to reassure first and process all other reactions later. Gentle. He has to be gentle.
Dokja hums, but doesn’t say anything else, and the conversation stagnates to an awkward, tense halt.
Something jabs into his wrist, not painful but still pointed. He quickly discovers it’s 41 trying to get his attention. Carefully, 41 draws characters into Secretive Plotters skin, out of sight from where Dokja is standing.
‘Let me get a closer look at him.’’
Secretive Plotter clears his throat and swears Dokja jumps out of his skin at the noise. “Dokja…would you like to hold him- it?”
“Can I?” Though its phrased as a disbelieving question, Dokja is already holding out his hands. Secretive Plotter snorts, lifting up 41 to set down in his palms.
“Be careful,” he warns. The kkomas aren’t exactly built like human beings nor do they have flesh and bone, but still, better to be proactive. Though as Dokja raises 41 closer to his face, Secretive Plotter wonders if it was a useless concern. Wonder practically lights up every corner of Dokja’s face.
“I’ve never seen any merch for Ways of Survival or anything. Where did you even find this? And it’s so high quality too- it’s really incredible.” Dokja lightly strokes a finger across 41’s head, like one would pet a cat. “Actually, did you make it yourself? You must have, it’s too lifelike for it to be low quality production. I can’t really imagine any world having a dedicated fanbase to the novel anyways. I was its only reader for so long, so I would have been the only one interested in-”
All at once, Dokja’s excited speech slams to a halt, expression turning hollow. “...Ah. Right. I did it again. Sorry.” He holds out 41 towards Secretive Plotter. “Thanks for letting me see it- I think Uriel is looking for me though so I’ll just…go. Yeah.”
Before Secretive Plotter can even get a word in edgewise, Dokja is long gone. In his hand, 41 shifts to better watch the space where Dokja last was.
“...I think I understand what you saw in him back in the subway,” 41 says, carefully measuring his words.
“Do you now?”
41 brushes against the top of his head with his pudgy arm. “He’s a child. A very fragile one. Not one to hate easily.” When Secretive Plotter doesn’t respond, 41 asks, “Do you still dream of vengeance?”
“No,” Secretive Plotter mutters. “Not anymore.”
“Then that’s fine, I think.”
“What are you going on about?”
“Just my own thoughts.” 41 yawns, his little body drooping a bit. “There’s something about him though, something that feels like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t say, but it’s not from this world.” 41’s voice gets quieter as he speaks, and he yawns again. “You want to know what’s troubling him, but maybe he doesn’t know what it is either.”
Secretive Plotter pauses. He hadn’t thought of that. Too concerned about what Dokja could be hiding from them under the excuse of not bothering anyone, he’d forgotten that Dokja often doesn’t have answers for the things that hurt him. The universe too, does not operate solely on reason. Things happen, without cause or concern for those they affect. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Now, go back.”
41 closes his eyes, slowly fading away, back to wherever he existed in his periods of rest.
Secretive Plotter spends another lingering moment on the back porch before heading inside. Dinner still needs to be prepared, Dokja’s portion lacking the tomatoes he despises. As he cooks he thinks over what 41 said to him, and how to find the root of Dokja’s problems if it’s true that the boy is just as clueless.
He was something close to a god once, he’s bound to find answers one way or the other.