Chapter Text
Yoo Joonghyuk awakes with a female voice murmuring in his head.
“You're on a path in the woods,” she says, “And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a Demon King. You're here to slay him. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.”
Yoo Joonghyuk looks at his surroundings, searching for the voice, but sees no one. Just like the voice says, he’s on a dirt path in the woods. The path snakes between trees before the forest opens up, and through the empty spaces, Yoo Joonghyuk can see the beginnings of a grassy hill and a wooden structure sitting atop it. The only sounds in these lush woods are the faint rustling of leaves and a couple chirping birds.
“Where am I?” he asks. “Who are you?”
He reaches at his belt for – something? Glancing down, there’s nothing attached to his belt, but he has the nagging feeling that there ought to have been. Like a constant of his has gone missing.
“I already told you,” the female voice says impatiently, “You’re on a path in the woods. It doesn’t get simpler than that. And as for me … you can call me … the Narrator.”
“You don’t sound sure,” Yoo Joonghyuk says.
“Oh, and are you so certain of yourself?” The Narrator taunts, “Do you know who you are?”
“I am Yoo Joonghyuk,” he states.
“And who is Yoo Joonghyuk?”
Yoo Joonghyuk opens his mouth to continue, but falters. In his memories, he searches and searches, but … there’s nothing. He knows nothing about himself, his age, his birthday, his family. He understands these all exist, that he must have them, but he simply cannot recall anything about them. All he knows with certainty is his name.
Even if he looks down at himself, he can only glean pieces: he is male. He has thick combat boots and a long coat, his entire attire black. His hands have scars and callouses, and he guesses the rest of his limbs are similarly scarred.
The emptiness, the lack of knowledge, sits like bile on his tongue. He scowls.
“That’s what I thought,” The Narrator says, her voice smug. Yoo Joonghyuk glares at the open air. “Now you do have a Demon King to slay, so hop to it.”
Yoo Joonghyuk frowns. A notch forms between his eyebrows as he thinks, and he folds his arms across his chest. “How?”
“How what?” The Narrator replies.
“How will this Demon King end the world?” he asks.
“Does it matter?” The Narrator says, and there’s an edge of annoyance in her voice, “He just will. So go and kill him before he does.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s frown deepens. With a huff, he starts walking down the path, his footfalls heavy in the dirt.
“Damn protagonist,” The Narrator mutters.
Yoo Joonghyuk trudges on until he reaches the opening where the trees thin. He emerges from the forest and gazes up the hill at the cabin on the hill. It’s a quaint, rustic thing, its wood old and worn. Faint light glows from its windows, ready to illuminate the approaching night.
“A word of warning,” The Narrator says, interrupting the quiet. Her voice lowers in her seriousness. “The Demon King will do everything in his power to stop you. He will lie and he will cheat. He will promise you the world. If you let him get to you, he will kill you a dozen times over. You can’t let that happen. Don’t forget, the fate of the world rests on your shoulders.”
Yoo Joonghyuk sets his jaw as he lets the weight of the situation settle over him. Strangely, it’s a familiar one, to have the burden of Fate and the world upon him. He walks up to the cabin door and pulls it open with a loud creak.
“The interior of the cabin is bare,” the Narrator says, “A thick layer of dust coats the floor and the single table in the corner of the room. On that table is a pristine blade. It is your implement. You’ll need it if you want to do this right.”
Yoo Joonghyuk is already striding across the room towards the sheathed blade. It’s a sword in its scabbard, lying across the table, and just the sight of it calls out to him like an old friend. The handle settles familiarly in his palm as he pulls it out of its scabbard, the dark blade glittering in the dim light. He swings it through the air once, twice, and it makes a beautiful curve before him. This is what was missing earlier, the weight of a sword at his hip. He buckles it to his belt and feels a little more whole.
“Hmm, very good,” The Narrator murmurs before clearing her throat and continuing with her description, “At the far wall is a door to the basement, where the Demon King is kept.”
Yoo Joonghyuk pushes open the door to reveal a staircase descending down into the depths of the cabin. His steps downward match the drone of the Narrator’s voice.
“You descend down the basement stairs. The wooden steps are old and worn and shadowed, but you can see faint moonlight illuminating from some unseen window at the bottom. The air is cold and damp, the smell of rot permeating through the wooden walls. It’s not a place fit for anyone to stay in – you would probably be doing the Demon King a favour by slaying him. And as you reach the end of the steps, you look up to see the Demon King chained to the far wall, bathed in the faint glow of the moon.”
Yoo Joonghyuk looks up. His breath catches.
There’s a man sitting at the opposite side of the basement, his limbs delicate and thin. His skin is pale, almost as pale as the long white coat he’s wearing. Dark lashes fan across his cheeks as he peeks up through his bangs, then straightens, gazing steadily at Yoo Joonghyuk. The man’s lips part in wonder, his eyes glimmering with hope before they dart to the sword in Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands. Just as quickly as it came, the expression shutters and the gaze darts away before fixing back on him with a cautious, blank stare. The man shifts to face him and the heavy chain on his wrist rattles as it drags across the floor. Even from across the room, he can see the red weal it leaves on his skin.
He looks so … fragile, Yoo Joonghyuk thinks. Is he really a demon king?
“Focus,” The Narrator snaps in his head, “Remember, you’re here to slay him.”
“Ah. Hello,” the Demon King greets. He gives a polite nod. His brown eyes glimmer with something sly and intelligent. “Are you here to kill me?”
“Yes,” Yoo Joonghyuk says without hesitation.
“Don’t just tell him that!” The Narrator screeches in Yoo Joonghyuk’s head. “Have you never heard about the element of surprise?”
Yoo Joonghyuk ignores her. “Can you hear that?” he asks the Demon King instead, and gestures vaguely upward with his finger.
The Demon King’s brows furrow. “Hear what?”
“That woman’s voice.”
“The only voice I’m hearing is yours,” The Demon King replies, confused.
Yoo Joonghyuk shakes his head. “Never mind.”
The Demon King chews his bottom lip. It looks like a nervous habit, one that’s left his lips raw and bitten. “... Why are you going to kill me?”
Yoo Joonghyuk crosses his arms across his chest. “I’ve been told you’re the Demon King that will bring about the end of the world.”
“Oh.” The Demon King fiddles with his coat sleeve. “Well, that seems very one-track minded of you. Who told you this stuff?”
Yoo Joonghyuk considers saying, the narrating voice in my head, and keeps silent. The Demon King waits for an answer, and when Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t give one, he shrugs.
“I mean, I don’t think I look much like a Demon King,” he murmurs, looking down at himself. “If anything, you look more like a Demon King, what with your all-black wardrobe, your sword and that scary glare. What kind of Demon King would wear a white trench coat? And doesn’t it seem strange to kill me for something I haven’t done yet?”
He has a point, Yoo Joonghyuk thinks.
“Don’t listen to him,” The Narrator warns.
The Demon King tilts his head as he gazes at Yoo Joonghyuk. “Tell me, how am I going to end the world?”
Yoo Joonghyuk pauses. “Shouldn’t you be telling me?” he asks.
The Demon King gives a wry smile. “I would, if I knew how. Or maybe I wouldn’t. Evil masterminds only tell their plans when they’re right on the cusp of victory, don’t they? But this doesn’t feel very victorious to me.” He gestures to the basement around them, to his chained wrist, to Yoo Joonghyuk standing at the other side of the room, sword in hand. “I thought you’d know, considering you’ve been told I would end the world.”
He doesn’t sound like he will end the world, Yoo Joonghyuk thinks.
“Oh, believe me,” The Narrator says, “Letting him live means he will bring about the apocalypse.”
And why should I believe you? Yoo Joonghyuk asks the Narrator.
“It’s my duty to give you the facts and to guide you,” she says, matter-of-fact, “And it’d be great if you listened to me, but ultimately, what you do is your choice.” She sighs. “Not that you’ve ever done anything besides whatever you want.”
I don’t trust you, Yoo Joonghyuk thinks. He stares hard at the man chained at the other end of the room, as if trying to glean more about him just by studying him closely. His left brow twitches with the effort.
“I’ve done nothing but tell you the facts, and you don’t trust me?” The Narrator complains. “Ugh. Protagonists! Well, fine, I don’t care if you don’t trust me, all you have to do is slay the Demon King and – hey! What are you doing?”
[ Skil■■ ‘S■ge■ Eye’ ■■■■ ! ]
“Stop!” she shouts, “Shit, you shouldn’t be able to –!!”
[ Sk■ll ‘S■ge■ ■ye’ is p■rti■■ly bl■ck■■ ! ]
Bright sparks appear in the air between them. The Demon King winces and turns to shield his eyes. For a brief moment, in the air in front of Yoo Joonghyuk, a blue screen flickers and glitches.
[ P■rs■■■l ■um■ary ]
N■■■: ■■■ ■■■■■
■g■: ■■
■xclu■■■ ■■■ri■■■■s: ■■■■■■■
E■■■■i■e ■■il■■: ■■■■■■
…
Nearly everything is unreadable, save for one line at the end which catches his gaze.
Achi■v■ment■: Ma■s Murd■rer
It’s still partly hidden, but Yoo Joonghyuk can interpret it just fine. His jaw tightens with resolve and he focuses on the Demon King and glares.
The Demon King wrings his hands together. “Um, what were you doing, causing all those sparks? You know, you’ve been awfully quiet this entire time … Were you contemplating how to kill me? … Can you do it quickly, so it doesn’t hurt?”
“You talk too much,” Yoo Joonghyuk says in a frigid tone. His boots click against the cold stones as he approaches the Demon King.
The Demon King huffs out a weak laugh that wavers in the air between them. “Well, I think anyone would be nervous facing their death.” His eyes dart between Yoo Joonghyuk, his sword, and the basement stairs. Pain and resignation flood his gaze. The Demon King’s throat bobs before he looks back at Yoo Joonghyuk. “I don’t really want to die, but – well, if it saves the world…”
Yoo Joonghyuk tightens his grip on his sword and holds it out, the blade gleaming. He gazes down at the chained man and nods.
“I’ll make it quick,” he promises, and plunges his sword through the Demon King’s heart.
The Demon King makes a pained, choked sound. The spark of life fades from his dark eyes as he slumps to the ground, blood pooling on the ground and staining his white jacket with vivid red. An uncomfortable quiet settles in the room, a stark contrast to when the Demon King was nervously chatting away. Yoo Joonghyuk frowns, swipes the blood off his blade, and sheathes it with a quiet snick.
“The Demon King is dead,” he pronounces.
“Wonderful!” The Narrator says. “You’ve slain the Demon King and saved the world!”
Yoo Joonghyuk asks, “What happens now?”
“Well, now you can be happy,” she says, “The world is saved from certain doom and you can live happily ever after.”
How vague. Yoo Joonghyuk scoffs, then turns on his heel to head back up the basement stairs. When he reaches the top, he stretches out his hand and pulls at the knob.
It’s locked.
“Uh, the basement door is locked,” The Narrator says. She sounds a little bit stumped. “There shouldn’t be anyone else outside. But if it’s locked, then the scenario …”
“I thought you were supposed to know everything?” Yoo Joonghyuk growls.
“Well, obviously I don’t know everything,” she snaps, “I’m just here to state the facts. And the fact is that if you’ve killed the Demon King, then you should be able to leave. So it must mean you haven’t killed him properly.”
“I ran a sword through his heart.”
“I saw that,” The Narrator says, “But the fact remains that you can’t leave, so he must somehow still be alive. Maybe you should double-check.”
Yoo Joonghyuk twists the knob as hard as he can, but it doesn’t even budge. Steeling himself, he rams his shoulder against it. He bounces back and Yoo Joonghyuk stares at it in surprise. The wooden door that should have splintered has changed, a faint metallic sheen coating its surface, as if the wood has transformed itself into metal.
With a growl, Yoo Joonghyuk stomps back down the steps and walks to the corpse of the Demon King soaking in a pool of his own blood. He kneels, settling his fingers against the man’s neck to feel for a pulse. He waits, and waits, fingers pressed to slowly-cooling skin. There is no sign of life. The room is empty of any presence save his own.
“He’s dead,” Yoo Joonghyuk declares, “Now figure out how to open the basement door –”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Beneath Yoo Joonghyuk’s fingers begins a faint, rhythmic pulse. It beats slowly, weak at first, then gathers strength. The Demon King’s cold, greying flesh regains its colour, pale and pink, and Yoo Joonghyuk watches with wide eyes as the gash on the Demon King’s chest knits itself back together, flesh twining with flesh and smoothing itself out. The Demon King’s chest begins to rise and fall with faint breaths.
Yoo Joonghyuk takes a step back as he watches the Demon King’s eyes blink open. The man slowly pushes himself up into a sitting position, groaning from the effort. His white coat is dark and red from blood, and the rivulets of blood trail down his cheek and skin. He looks up at Yoo Joonghyuk, his dark eyes coming into focus, then looks down at himself. The familiar, intelligent gleam from before returns to his gaze.
“Ouch,” The Demon King says with a wince. His mouth curves into something that’s both a grimace and a wry smile. “Dying really hurts.”
“He should be dead!” The Narrator exclaims.
“You should be dead,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, staring wide-eyed at the now-revived man.
“I should be dead,” The Demon King echoes with a slight nod. He looks down at himself again and picks at the red-stained corner of his coat sleeve. A grimace crosses his face and he lets his arm drop. The chain attached to his wrist rattles against the floor. “So, what now?”