Chapter 1: CONTRIVED
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Chapter 1:
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(Intro music — a melodic, Parisian-insipired waltz played on the bandoneon.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: It was a rainy Saturday afternoon when the case first came to my door. I was in my office, sorting out paperwork while I waited for the client to arrive, the cup of coffee on my desk having long since gone cold. At that point I didn’t know much about the dame’s problem, only what little information she’d provided in the voicemail that had been waiting for me when I arrived at work yesterday morning, which was mostly the repeated insistence that “he” had been kidnapped, and she was mighty worried for “his” safety. Now I’m not a betting man, but if I was, I’d bet it was her husband she was referring to. I’d also bet that he wasn’t missing at all, and had actually pulled a runner on the poor gal and left her for someone else that caught his fancy. I’d seen it happen enough times in this line of business: broken hearts, scorned lovers — but that was neither here nor there. All I knew for sure was that the client would be arriving soon, and I had a terrible feeling in my gut that I knew exactly how this story would end.
(Sound of rain fades in. We transition to a quiet indoor space. There’s a knock at the door.)
KIM DOKJA: Come in.
(Footsteps approach.)
KIM DOKJA: Please, sit down.
YOO SANGAH: Thank you, detective.
(Sound of a chair scraping across the floor.)
KIM DOKJA: Do you want something to drink?
YOO SANGAH: No thank you, I’m fine.
KIM DOKJA: Straight to business, then. You don't mind if I record this, do you? For my notes.
YOO SANGAH: Fine by me.
KIM DOKJA: Great. Now, with that out of the way, how can I help you, miss..?
YOO SANGAH: Yoo, Yoo Sangah. I’ve heard many good things about you, detective Kim, they say you’re the best at what you do.
KIM DOKJA: And what, exactly, is it that they told you I do, Ms Yoo?
YOO SANGAH: Get results. (She takes a breath to gather her resolve.) You see, detective Kim, I came to you today because my husband — uh — (she stops, hesitating, like a new thought has just crossed her mind.) My husband… is… (she speaks slowly, not quite sure) at home, waiting for me, to get back.
KIM DOKJA: (Confused) I see.
YOO SANGAH: (Still sounding unsure, but trying to pick the thread of her sentence back up) Yes, he — and I — are both terribly worried about what’s happened. You see, detective Kim, we believe that our — (she sounds somewhat caught off guard by her own words) dog? — yes, that our dog has been kidnapped. (Composing herself once more) And you’re the only one that can help us find him.
KIM DOKJA: (Making sure he heard right) Your dog has been kidnapped? Not your son, perhaps?
YOO SANGAH: Oh, maybe… (She considers the question for a moment.) No, definitely my dog.
KIM DOKJA: Right, of course. (He clears his throat, trying to stay in character.) In that case, why come to me, Ms Yoo? I find people, not pets — I can swing stolen objects, even, but I can’t say I’ve ever located a missing mutt. Wouldn’t you be better off contacting the police?
YOO SANGAH: They’re no use. (She sighs.) Believe me, I’ve tried.
KIM DOKJA: What have you tried exactly, Ms Yoo? Have you canvassed your neighbourhood? Put up missing posters?
YOO SANGAH: He’s not just missing, detective, he’s been kidnapped! It’s been a whole week and there’s still no sign of him!
KIM DOKJA: How can you be so sure? Why would anyone want to kidnap your dog?
YOO SANGAH: I don’t know, isn’t finding that out part of your job?
KIM DOKJA: I… suppose it is. (He takes a breath, conceding) Very well, Ms Yoo, tell me everything you can about this kidnapped dog of yours.
YOO SANGAH: (Relieved) Oh, thank you, detective! I knew I could count on you.
(Sound of rain fades out.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: We talked details for a couple of minutes, established a payment plan that worked for both of us, and I made her a promise that I would take the case as seriously as any missing person’s. Still, after Yoo Sangah left my office I sat with the information she'd given me for a good long while. I’m not usually wrong about the people that walk through my door, but I suppose I had assumed too much too quickly — she was a beautiful lady, after all, anyone would have to be insane to run out on those gentle eyes and that charming smile of hers — but the fact that she had sought me out to find a dog of all things baffled me. I mean, I get that people love their pets, but paying a private investigator to find one? I’m not top of the line by any means but my services aren’t cheap either. There had to be more to this story, something I wasn't seeing yet. Perhaps that kidnapping theory of hers had more merit than I had initially believed, or maybe she believed it did, but if that was the case that only gave me more questions than answers. Pure speculation would only get me so far, however, so I would have to go back to where this whole thing started and try to piece it together from there.
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: (Gradually getting more pointed and deliberate) And so I began my investigation, hoping — no, praying — to the universe out there — to the constellations — that someone knew what they were doing, and that everything would begin to make sense soon.
(Outro music.)
“And… SCENE!” Han Sooyoung shouted into the megaphone in her hands, then set it down as she took a moment to stretch the sore muscles of her neck. “Not bad.”
Behind her, Yoo Sangah approached her seat at the director’s chair, still wearing that retro-style dress they’d picked for the setting, and asked, “How did it go?”
“A bit of a bumpy start, but that’s to be expected,” Han Sooyoung glanced at the screen in front of her, which was displaying a live feed of the ongoing scenario, and made a few quick notes in her phone.
“Is that why you changed the script halfway through?” Yoo Sangah asked as she peered over her shoulders.
On the screen they could see a black-and-white video of Kim Dokja, dressed in a long trench coat and with a fedora pulled over his eyes, sitting at the desk in the office Yoo Sangah had just vacated.
Han Sooyoung shrugged coyly. “I strive to keep my audience on their toes.”
“A little warning would have been nice,” she chided good-naturedly. “I almost flubbed my lines.”
“But you pulled through,” Han Sooyoung remarked, “and so did our audience’s interest.” She pointed at the Star Stream chat, highlighting a couple of the messages received throughout the segment.
[A few constellations are bored.]
[Some constellations are curious about this performance.]
[Constellations who like unconventional stories are intrigued.]
[Some constellations think the plot is too contrived.]
“See?” She turned to Yoo Sangah.
“I still don’t see how you’re going to make a dog kidnapping more interesting than a missing husband.” Yoo Sangah shrugged.
“It’s all about predictability,” she explained. “Mysteries are about keeping the audience guessing, trying to piece the information themselves, waiting for the next reveal! What’s the point of a case that can be solved straight away?”
“But then what was the point of the original plot? Weren’t we following in the steps of the classics?”
“I changed my mind while I listened to him talk at the start — it really is always the same old story, isn’t it? That’s why I decided to shake things up, do the unexpected — reinvent the classics, if you will.” She sounded quite sure of herself. “It’s what keeps stories fresh. Simply regurgitating old stock would have tanked our ratings.”
“But how is Kim Dokja supposed to play along if we don’t follow the script we agreed on?” Yoo Sangah worried her brow, watching on the screen as the subject of her question made his way through an atmospheric alley. “Shouldn’t we update him?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Han Sooyoung smiled deviously. “It’s much better for us if he doesn’t know.”
Yoo Sangah stared at her for a few seconds with narrowed eyes, then sighed in defeat. “You’re the director.”
“That’s right, and speaking of directing…” she glanced at the screen again, then made a few more notes. “We’re almost ready for the next segment. Where’s Gilyoung?”
“Somewhere nearby, I think.” Yoo Sangah looked around. “Are you giving him a role?”
“Something like that,” Han Sooyoung waved her hand dismissively. “You’ll see.”
Yoo Sangah opened her mouth as if to ask for clarification, but closed it almost immediately upon realising the futility of the action, opting instead to plant a smile on her face and shake her head. “See you later.”
“Don’t be late for your next scene!” Han Sooyoung called after her as she walked away. “The show has only just begun.”
(Scenario alert ping. System voice announces:)
<Sub scenario – Embedded Narrative>
Type: Sub
Difficulty: ???
Clear condition: Work together with other Constellations and/or Incarnations to create a 'Story chamber' and make a narrative to keep the <Star Stream> entertained. The narrative will be evaluated in real-time by judges as well as audience members. The judging criteria includes 'Popularity', 'Characters and Plot', and 'Originality', overall points will be assigned at the end.
Time Limit: None.
Reward: 300,000 Coins, Possibility of a Story related to the narrative told.
Failure: None.
*A participant may only take on one role. (Excluding extras.)
*Additional Coins will be rewarded according to the points received.
(Dismissing window sound.)
Chapter 2: SHARP
Chapter Text
Chapter 2:
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(Intro music — a wistful piano solo in a minor key.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: They say that when it comes to missing people, the first seventy-two hours are the most crucial to any investigation. That’s three days in which the most important evidence will be gathered, the best leads will be uncovered, and investigators will have the best chance of finding the victim unharmed — any longer than that and there really is no guarantee regarding the outcome of the case. Unfortunately, seeing as I had missed that crucial window in my current investigation, things weren’t looking too good for Ms Yoo’s beloved pup, but I had promised her I would try, and so I arranged to meet her at the scene of the presumed crime.
(KIM DOKJA knocks at a door, which opens after a moment.)
YOO SANGAH: Detective, thank you for coming. Please, come in.
(Footsteps as KIM DOKJA steps inside.)
KIM DOKJA: Good morning, Ms Yoo. Shall we get right to it, then?
YOO SANGAH: Of course. What do you need from me?
KIM DOKJA: Walk me through the events of the day your dog disappeared.
YOO SANGAH: This way.
(They begin walking.)
YOO SANGAH: (Recalling with ease) As I told you before, this happened a little over a week ago — the Thursday before last, to be exact. I remember because my husband spent most of the week working overtime, but he promised he’d be back in time for dinner on Friday, so I was gone most of that day getting groceries to make something special.
KIM DOKJA: (Good-naturedly) Your husband is a lucky man. Is he at work right now?
YOO SANGAH: Yes, but he was glad to hear you were on the case; he’s been so upset ever since our little Bihyung went missing.
KIM DOKJA: (Caught off guard, trying not to laugh) That’s the dog’s name? (Composing himself) I mean, yes, that’s the dog’s name. I remember you telling me this. I, uh, take it your husband really loves that dog?
YOO SANGAH: (Distracted) Him? Not really, no. (Opening a door) This is where I last saw him, he was asleep in his crate when I left for the store.
KIM DOKJA: Was the crate locked? O the door to the room?
YOO SANGAH: No, neither, I don’t like locking doors inside the house — what if there’s an emergency?
KIM DOKJA: And you said you were gone most of the day?
YOO SANGAH: Yes, I left in the morning and came back a little after six in the evening.
KIM DOKJA: And the dog was gone by then?
YOO SANGAH: Yes, with no signs that anyone else had been in the house.
KIM DOKJA: I see… (he hums in thought.) And you’re sure you didn’t leave any doors open? No chance for the dog to slip outside?
YOO SANGAH: (Determined) I’m positive, everything was closed when I left and it was still closed when I came back.
KIM DOKJA: Do you mind if I take a look around the place?
YOO SANGAH: Please, be my guest. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need something.
(YOO SANGAH walks away.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: I started my investigation in the room, not entirely optimistic that I’d find anything useful given how much time had already passed, but hoping for a miracle nonetheless. The room itself seemed unremarkable, clearly a guest room that saw more use by the aforementioned dog than any actual guests if the toys and clumps of white hair scattered around the place were of any indication. The dog’s crate was located by the wall opposite the only window on the room that let in the warm morning sun — it was one of those collapsible plastic ones without the door installed, clearly only meant to give the animal a place to sleep rather than restrict its movement around the house. Everything seemed to be in its place, so no great discoveries there. Still, something about the scene just didn’t seem… right, but the more I stared, the more whatever it was seemed to get away from me, so I decided to come back later. Perhaps a change of scenery would help me focus.
(Footsteps.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: I decided to take a quick look around the house to double-check the front and back doors for obvious signs of entry but, just as Ms Yoo had reassured me, found none, which meant that either whoever broke in was smart about it — and this was most likely targeted burglary — or no one had broken in at all, and the little fluff ball had simply poofed out of existence all on its own. Even so, I went around and checked the rest of the doors in the house just in case, thinking maybe there could be a forgotten side door no one accounted for or, uh, (clearly reaching) a large dog-sized crack in the wall. Maybe even more clues.
(Sound of a doorknob being turned partway through, but it won’t open.)
KIM DOKJA: Hm, weird. (Calling out) Ms Yoo, one of your doors seems to have jammed shut.
YOO SANGAH: (From a distance) Oh no! (Footsteps as she approaches) Which one?
KIM DOKJA: This one here.
YOO SANGAH: Oh, that’s my husband’s office. (Annoyed) He’s locked it again.
KIM DOKJA: You don’t sound too pleased.
YOO SANGAH: He’s entitled to his space and all, but he’s overreacting — it’s not like Bihyung being in there for a few minutes made any difference, the place was already a mess!
KIM DOKJA: The dog got into his office?
YOO SANGAH: Yes, a couple of weeks ago. (She sighs.) He was working late and must have fallen asleep at some point, next thing you know he’s screaming bloody murder at the poor puppy for eating a few research papers that were on the floor! (Indignant) He went and bought new locks for the door the very next day, now I might as well stick a picture of him on that stupid door with how little I see of his face when he’s at home. (Mutters to herself in annoyance, trailing off) If I’d known that’s how it was going to be… (huffs.)
KIM DOKJA: (Joking to lighten the mood) So… no chance the dog got lost in a pile of papers back there?
YOO SANGAH: (Laughs) No, we checked. His briefcase too — wouldn’t be surprised if Bihyung had slipped in there with how much stuff he hauls to and from work everyday.
KIM DOKJA: Ah, shame, that would have been a very fast case.
YOO SANGAH: Speaking of, have you found anything?
KIM DOKJA: (Hesitating) Not yet, but I’m not losing hope. I’m going to take a look around outside.
(Footsteps.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: Seeing as the inside of the house was not yielding the sort of clues I’d hoped for, perhaps the outside would have what I needed. Ms Yoo’s home was located in a fairly quiet neighbourhood that, though not particularly affluent or isolated, seemed to have been left almost untouched by the war, with its neat houses of various colours and textures sitting snug against one another and a small, well-paved road that wound around the place, delineating small clusters of houses. Too quaint to be the sort of place where one would expect to find roving thieves looking to snatch a purebred dog from someone’s backyard and resell it for profit. Though I wasn’t discarding that idea entirely.
(Sound of an old car driving by.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: As I walked around, the first thing I noticed was that the window of the guest room where the dog usually slept did not face the main road, but rather one of the side pedestrian roads that led deeper into the neighbourhood. Following the bend of the road, it soon became apparent that it would be rather hard for someone to catch a glimpse of the animal unless they were at least a little ways up the side road with the way it gradually slanted uphill, invalidating my emerging theory that this had been an opportunity theft. It was as I stood there, staring from the distance at the little plastic crate inside the room, that the strangest thing caught my attention out of the corner of my eye: a footprint, half-hidden underneath a large planter containing a yellowing shrub, right next to the spot where I was standing.
(KIM DOKJA grunts as something heavy drags over concrete.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: Moving the planter aside, I was able to investigate more closely. The footprint was large, possibly belonging to a man, and seemed to have been made by some sort of boot — military style would be my guess due to the sole pattern, though I couldn’t be certain without something to compare it to. More than that, though, moving that planter aside revealed a treasure trove of clues hidden away from view: discarded snack wrappers, a couple of burnt-down matches, and even more overlapping footprints — two distinct sets, a large one and a small one — in a pattern indicative of both short bursts of pacing and long periods of standing still. Experience told me that this was the scene of a stake out, and my gut that the target was none other than that little mutt I’d been hired to find.
(Crinkling as KIM DOKJA picks up one of the plastic wrappers.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: The scene began coming together in my mind, all that was left to do was confirm some of my suspicions. I returned to the guest bedroom window, from the outside this time, and found exactly what I was looking for: those same types of footprints on the floor in front of the window, and partial shoe prints on the exterior of the windowsill. Now I just had to figure out how exactly they got into the house…
(Sound of KIM DOKJA trying to pry open the window.)
LEE JIHYE: (Cautiously) Hey, what are you doing?
(A smack as KIM DOKJA startles and hits his head against the glass.)
KIM DOKJA: (Under his breath) Shit, ow.
LEE JIHYE: (Accusingly) Are you a thief?
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: Much to my dismay, it appeared as though I’d been caught red-handed as I conducted the more… unbecoming aspect my investigation. Not that I was currently doing anything illegal, per say, but even I could see how this might look terrible for a passing high school student with no context of the larger situation.
KIM DOKJA: (A little forceful to start, then trying to sound reassuring) No! No, of course not, I’ve been hired by the owner of the house.
LEE JIHYE: (Sceptical) Really?
KIM DOKJA: (Trying to sound reassuring) Yes, really. I’m a PI looking into Ms Yoo’s missing dog.
LEE JIHYE: Oh. (Curious) Found him yet?
KIM DOKJA: (Sighs.) Not quite. Say, kid, you live around here?
LEE JIHYE: (Hesitating for a second) Uh, yeah. I’m… neighbour — a neighbour, I mean.
KIM DOKJA: Oh, do you know anything about the dog?
LEE JIHYE: (Sounding unconvincing) No?
KIM DOKJA: Are you sure?
LEE JIHYE: (Still unconvincing) Yes? Look, I’m sorry he’s gone but I didn’t see who took him, alright?
KIM DOKJA: I was just asking, better to cover all my bases.
LEE JIHYE: Alright. Well, hope you find him. I’m leaving now.
KIM DOKJA: (Without giving her a chance to decline) I still have a couple of questions, if you don’t mind? Have you seen any folks not from around here lingering in the area these past few days?
LEE JIHYE: How would I know who’s not from around (catching herself) — I mean, I’m busy with, uh, school stuff, so I wouldn’t know.
KIM DOKJA: I see. Any idea who or why someone might have wanted to take the dog?
LEE JIHYE: (Doing the verbal equivalent of a shrug) Dunno. Maybe the dog was important.
KIM DOKJA: (Curious) Important? For what?
LEE JIHYE: (Frustrated) I don’t know, this wasn’t part of the scri— the school curriculum. I — I’m really leaving now, mister. Bye.
(Quick footsteps as LEE JIHYE walks away.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: The lass walked away before I had a chance to probe further, but I was left convinced she knew more than she was letting on — though I would have to talk to Ms Yoo to fully confirm before I went around throwing wild accusations at what could simply be a moody teen bristling under questioning from a strange man.
(Footsteps, a door opening.)
KIM DOKJA: (Calling out) Ms Yoo, do you have a minute?
YOO SANGAH: (Getting closer) What is it?
KIM DOKJA: Two questions: first, do you usually lock your windows?
YOO SANGAH: (She hums as she thinks) Hmm… I must admit I can’t be sure I do. I like letting in the air during summer and then, well, maybe I’ve forgotten to lock them again once or twice?
KIM DOKJA: An easy mistake to make, though I do recommend you take better care of that in the future. Second question, how much have you told the neighbours about your dog?
YOO SANGAH: (Confused) What?
KIM DOKJA: I just want to know how many people you’ve told about your dog being missing, or even your suspicions about him being stolen. Have you enlisted any of them to help you search?
YOO SANGAH: I’ve told no one aside from the police that my dog was taken — despite what our initial meeting may have led you to believe, detective, I know I would sound like a crazy woman if I were to go around the neighbourhood asserting that my dog has been kidnapped. As for him being missing… I may have mentioned it to a couple of the neighbours whose houses overlook the main street, in case they were to see him running by, but that’s all. My husband and I are quite private people, you see.
KIM DOKJA: So no one knows the dog’s been taken? (Mostly to himself) Interesting. Do any of the neighbours you confided in have school-aged kids?
YOO SANGAH: No, there are very few kids in this area — we’re too far from the school — but some of the couples have young toddlers. None of them would even know Bihyung was missing, though, they live a bit out of the way.
KIM DOKJA: (Thoughtfully) Huh. In that case, I’m going to take one last look around inside, but I think I have almost everything I need.
YOO SANGAH: Really? What have you found?
KIM DOKJA: I have reason to believe your dog was indeed deliberately taken, and that whoever did so watched your house for a while looking for the perfect opportunity.
YOO SANGAH: (Gasps a bit too dramatically.) What? How can you be sure? What does that mean? Will you be able to find him?
KIM DOKJA: All in due time, this is nothing more than conjecture at this point — I’ll inform you as soon as I know more.
YOO SANGAH: (Fretting) Very well, detective. I’ll leave you to it.
(YOO SANGAH walks away.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: With those questions answered, my investigation in the house was almost wrapping up, all I had to do was return to the scene of the crime — and by now I was convinced that a crime had taken place — for one last look around. And the first thing on the docket was checking that window.
(Footsteps. Sound of a window opening.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: Indeed it had been left open, and looking closely at the floor just underneath it I could see the faint residue left by the kidnapper’s shoes among the various dog-derived detritus on the floor. So that was one mystery solved. Though something about this place still nagged at the back of my head…
(KIM DOKJA makes a noise of confusion, then his clothes rustle as he kneels down on the floor.)
KIM DOKJA: (To himself) Do dogs usually shed in such dense clumps of hair?
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: Now that I had seen it, it was obvious that something was wrong. Upon closer inspection, the clumps of white hair I had initially seen scattered around the room seemed far too thick to be the byproduct of natural shedding. Not that I was overly familiar with the shedding patterns of this particular dog, but even I could see that these tufts seemed more like someone had pulled off fistfuls of the mutt’s hair and dropped them on the floor. Honestly I would be surprised if little Bihyung didn’t have several bald patches given the sheer quantity of hair I found myself looking at scattered around me. (With a laugh) What a mental image.
(KIM DOKJA stands up and steps on a squeaky toy.)
KIM DOKJA: Oh, let’s move that out of the way — (he makes a sound of alarm.) What the…?
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: In my hand, I held a little squeaky dog toy, but that wasn’t the part that had made me jump. No, that had been the sharp little canine embedded into the toy, like a shark’s tooth left behind on an unlucky surfer’s board. I pulled the tooth out and examined it closely: its thin, serrated edges seemed whole — not chipped in any way, with the stub of the root still attached — and there was no blood on it or on the toy to hint of recent injury. Now, I was just about reaching my limit on knowledge regarding dogs’ health, but I was pretty confident they only lost teeth when they were puppies, and I was doubly sure Ms Yoo had commented her little mutt was an adult. Plus, this tooth — small as it may have been — was still too big to have been something left behind during the dog’s puppy days. Far too sharp, as well.
(Tense music.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: Call it intuition, or a sixth sense, but something compelled me to look around some more… and part of me wishes I hadn’t. The more I looked, the more I found: little sharp teeth embedded into toys, into the wooden legs of the bed, stuck under the dog crate, even sitting among the kibble left in the food bowl. I’m pretty sure I found more teeth than there were supposed to be in a dog’s mouth, and they all seemed to be sharp, serrated canines more fit to belong to some ancient carnivore than to a little lapdog. Did these all come from the animal I was meant to find? Was it sick? Just what the hell was going on here?
(Tense music interrupted by a knock at the door.)
YOO SANGAH: Detective, am I interrupting?
KIM DOKJA: (Trying to compose himself) No, no, not at all. I was just about done here.
YOO SANGAH: Oh, don’t let me rush you, I was just checking in.
KIM DOKJA: Appreciate it, but I’ve really seen all I wanted. Just one question, was your dog in good health?
YOO SANGAH: Pardon?
KIM DOKJA: Did he have any issues? Say, losing excessive amounts of hair or, uh, teeth?
YOO SANGAH: (A bit weirded out) Um, no? He was perfectly healthy. (Suddenly worried) Why do you ask?
KIM DOKJA: (Trying to sound casual) No reason, just covering all my bases before I go. You know how it is.
YOO SANGAH: (A little doubtful) Alright, good. My house is always open in case you need something else.
KIM DOKJA: I’ll let you know. Have a good day.
(Hurried footsteps as KIM DOKJA exits the house.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: My head spun as I left the house, and I could still see white hair and white teeth at the edges of my vision. Those last findings had thrown me in for a bit of a loop, sure, but my mission remained the same: find who took the dog, and hopefully bring him back. All else was secondary, including possible medical issues.
(Sound of an old car driving by as KIM DOKJA walks along the pavement.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: It was as I tried to snap back into business mode that I realised those flashes of white fur out of the corner of my eye were not simply a product of my startled mind, and I turned my head just in time to see the blurry figure of a little white mutt dash into a street just in front of me. In that instant, my feet reacted before my mind could catch up.
(Running.)
KIM DOKJA: (Panting) Hey, dog, come here!
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: The dog was faster than I had imagined, and I lost sight of it almost immediately, but continued following the street in hopes of catching up. However, when the street split off into a narrow alleyway, a new surprise made me stop in my tracks so fast I nearly landed face first on the ground.
YOO JOONGHYUK: (Under his breath, struggling) Stay still — why — (He clicks his tongue.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: A man stood in the middle of that alleyway clad in practical black clothes, sporting a well-worn pair of military boots, and trying to hold onto a squirming white dog.
KIM DOKJA: (Accusingly) What are you doing with that dog? Bihyung?
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: He tried to ignore me and begin walking away, but upon seeing me and hearing its name, the dog whined and thrashed in his grip, managing to slip out of his arms and make a mad dash away from both of us. Naturally, I tried to follow.
KIM DOKJA: Hold on, I’m — oof (he makes a sound of winded surprise as he falls.)
YOO JOONGHYUK: Out of my way.
KIM DOKJA: (Incredulous) You actually kicked me — hey, where are you going?
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: He ignored me, again, but I wasn’t going to have it. Not after being mercilessly knocked down on my ass just now.
(KIM DOKJA jumps up and tackles YOO JOONGHYUK to the ground.)
YOO JOONGHYUK: (Annoyed) Get off me!
KIM DOKJA: Not until you answer my questions, pal.
(Sounds of a struggle.)
KIM DOKJA: (Out of breath) What do you want with the dog?
YOO JOONGHYUK: (Less out of breath) None of your business.
(Grunting and shifting of clothes as they finally get free of one another and stand up.)
(Footsteps as KIM DOKJA rushes to block the exit of the alleyway.)
KIM DOKJA: (Panting) I’m not letting you through until you tell me what’s going on.
YOO JOONGHYUK: (After a too long pause) No.
KIM DOKJA: No? No what?
YOO JOONGHYUK: (Seemingly to himself) You said I just had to — (Sighs in frustration.)
KIM DOKJA: Talking to yourself, huh? Why don’t you just answer my questions? Then we can all go.
YOO JOONGHYUK: (Woodenly) You don’t know what you’re dealing with, this is beyond your ability.
KIM DOKJA: What do you mean by that?
YOO JOONGHYUK: (Seemingly bored) They’re not telling you the truth. That dog is — (he makes a deliberate, unsubtle pause before continuing in the same flat tone) dangerous. You wouldn’t understand.
KIM DOKJA: Then help me understand.
YOO JOONGHYUK: My job here is done.
KIM DOKJA: Now hold on a second —
(System sound as YOO JOONGHYUK logs out of the Story Chamber.)
KIM DOKJA: (To himself) Is he allowed to do that? (He sighs in defeat.) Whatever.
(KIM DOKJA clears his throat and gets back in character.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: I turned my head for a moment and the mysterious man seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye, leaving me with more questions than answers regarding this case — and what an odd one it had turned out to be so far. If I’d known I would be dealing with unnaturally toothy dogs and strange taciturn men perhaps I would have charged Ms Yoo a little more for my time, but what was done was done, and I wasn’t about to go back and make it seem like I was trying to extort a lady out of her money.
(Footsteps, street sounds.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: I went back out towards the street and tried to look for any signs of the dog but, of course, there weren’t any. The little beast had disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared, evading both myself and who I assume were its original captors in a surprising display of agility. Really makes you wonder just what the hell they were feeding that thing to make it such a slippery customer.
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: As things stood at the moment, however, I was fairly certain that I was just barely scratching the surface regarding this dognapping and the real reasons behind it. The more I thought about what I’d found today, the less I actually knew about what was going on. Why had the dog been taken? Was running into that suspicious girl earlier really a coincidence? What did the man mean by saying the dog is dangerous? And just what the hell wasn’t Ms Yoo telling me?
(Outro music begins fading in.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: It was time for me to get to the heart of the matter, and I had a feeling things were only going to get stranger from here.
(Outro music continues.)
[The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ clipped the alleyway scuffle scene.]
[A few constellations are sharing that clip to other channels.]
“See?” Han Sooyung laughed. “I told you having them fight would be a good idea.”
“I could have done that.” Lee Jihye answered dismissively. “Could’ve caught the dog, too, if you’d let me.”
“Yes, well, that wasn’t the point of the scene.” Han Sooyoung leaned back in her chair, distracted as she sent off a couple of messages with a shake of her head, then looked back up at Lee Jihye before she continued explaining, “A good mystery needs to earn that third act twist, what would be the point in beating the detective to a pulp and removing the case from his reach?”
“I guess…” Lee Jihye shrugged and went back to the screen Han Sooyoung was directing out of, watching as Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk exchanged a few more words before Yoo Joonghyuk seemed to have had enough of whatever was going on in the story, causing him to exit the chamber and appear in front of them in the blink of an eye. “You’re back!” she greeted him.
“What are you doing here?” Han Sooyoung stood up from her chair and frowned. “You’re not supposed to leave like that, you’re breaking immersion!”
Yoo Joonghyuk merely clicked his tongue as he began shrugging off the large vintage overcoat he’d been provided for the scene, then tossing it over the back of Han Sooyoung’s director’s chair.
“Hey, keep that on, you’ll need that for later,” she grabbed the coat and tried to hand it to him again.
“Later? I’m leaving.” He refused to take the coat and made a point to turn and begin walking away.
“What? No!” Han Sooyoung complained. “I still need you for the finale!”
Yoo Joonghyuk let out a dry laugh at the suggestion. “That’s not what we agreed on.”
“You agreed to help,” she reminded him with a wag of her finger.
“I agreed to help if I had time,” he spoke curtly. “I have helped, and I no longer have time.”
“That’s bullshit, what are you so busy with?” She moved to try and intercept him, not bothering to try and keep the frustration out of her voice.
“‘You wouldn't understand,’” he repeated her script back at her with the faintest smirk as he sidestepped her and continued on his way.
“Can I come?” Lee Jihye piped up.
“Not you too!” Han Sooyoung lamented. “Do you want us to fail this thing?”
Yoo Joonghyuk paused for a second, a faint sigh escaping his lips before he turned back to Lee Jihye and addressed her. “You stay here.”
“Ugh, but—” she tried complaining, but a single glance from Yoo Joonghyuk was enough to change her tune. “Fine, I’ll keep helping.”
Satisfied with her response, Yoo Joonghyuk nodded and quickly finished making his exit, no doubt eager to escape whatever new request Han Sooyoung would come up with if given enough time.
“He’s a real diva, that one,” Han Sooyoung muttered when Yoo Joonghyuk was finally out of earshot.
Lee Jihye merely raised an eyebrow in response.
“Anyway,” she shrugged and began walking back to her station, “we’ll make do without him, I have contingency plans.”
“Really?” Lee Jihye sounded sceptical.
“Oh, sure,” Han Sooyoung sat down and began pulling up tabs with her modified script and the Star Stream’s reactions. “A good director needs to be flexible.”
Reaction messages flashed on the screen one after the other, Lee Jihye peeked over Han Sooyoung’s shoulder and only managed to catch a few.
[The constellation ‘Prisoner of the Golden Headband’ is amused by your production.]
[Constellations that came for another fight scene are disappointed.]
[The constellation ‘Dog Who Threw Himself into the Flames’ is complaining about the lack of screen-time for the dog in the story.]
[A constellation who doesn’t like the fun to be spoiled is enjoying the mystery.]
“Good reception, overall.” Han Sooyoung muttered to herself as she quickly scrolled through the reaction channel. “We have a chance to really shake things up for the last arc.”
At that moment, a new voice joined them.
“Who’s going to shake things up?” Yoo Sangah asked with a smile as she approached.
“Ah, my favourite actress!” Han Sooyoung clapped her hands before gesturing towards her. “I was just about to say: you are going to shake things up!”
“Oh, am I, now?” She didn’t sound the least bit surprised. “What about that ‘husband’ of mine? Weren’t you saving that reveal for another twist?”
“Eh, the husband doesn’t really matter at this point,” Han Sooyoung waved a hand dismissively. “He’s just your generic scientist working on dangerous things humanity could never possibly understand — those characters are always doing things for greed, hubris and a misguided desire for progress, and that’s what ends up killing them. Really, once you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all, there’s nothing left to explore.”
“So… Lee Hyunsung said no?” Yoo Sangah teased.
Han Sooyoung grimaced, then took a breath before admitting, “Lee Hyunsung said no.”
Hearing this, Lee Jihye couldn’t help but giggle.
“But!” Han Sooyoung quickly recovered. “Have no fear, I know exactly how to save this.”
“How’s that?” Yoo Sangah asked.
Hearing the question she’d been waiting for, Han Sooyoung grinned pointedly at her and lowered her voice to an almost conspiratorial whisper before replying, “That depends, how good is your villain monologue?”
Chapter 3: UNFOLD
Chapter Text
Chapter 3:
Download at Google Drive or here, or visit at Archive.org.
(30:31/ 27MB)
(Intro music — a guitar rendition of a folk song with lively, staccato notes.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: After that little run-in with those mysterious characters prowling around Ms Yoo’s house, I realised it was time to get serious about the case I’d been entrusted with. Not that I hadn’t been serious before, mind you, but the stakes had definitely felt lower when I thought I was merely dealing with a missing dog, and I have to admit I failed to do my due diligence in the same way I would have had I been dealing with a human victim. Which is to say that it was time for me to investigate my clients themselves, and find out if they had any enemies that would go as far as to dognap their pet just to spite them — or perhaps for some other reason.
(Sound of footsteps echoing in an indoor space.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: Since Ms Yoo and her husband were new to the area, I ruled out neighbourhood squabbles first, taking the rest of the day I paid a visit to her home to talk to the neighbours and put my mind at ease regarding their involvement. In addition, considering Ms Yoo and her husband weren’t inordinately wealthy and there had been no attempt to contact them regarding any sort of ransom, it was simple to rule out money as the primary motivator for the crime. That helped to narrow it down a little, but I was still a long ways away from any actual answers.
(Indoor library sounds like distant chairs scraping and echoing footsteps nearby.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: From the few brief conversations I’d had with Ms Yoo since our first meeting, I was able to gather that her husband worked for the Atomic Energy Research Institute in Daejeon, though the two of them had moved here for him to take part in some sort of collaborative project with a university in Incheon that was supposed to last the better part of two years. What that project was, exactly, she couldn’t quite tell me — from the sounds of it her husband had neglected to share the specifics of his research and she, in turn, had never really bothered asking — but it had something to do with studying the effects of fallout on the population after the war. Unpleasant work, I thought, and perhaps just the right amount of dangerous and or controversial enough to have garnered his family a couple of detractors. At least, I hoped. In truth… this little theory of mine could have very well been a reach, but it was the only lead I had for now, so it was worth following as far as it could take me.
(Loud sound of a chair scraping as KIM DOKJA sits down, then a thump as he drops a pile of folders onto a table.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: Now, contrary to popular belief, the vast majority of the work a private investigator does is mundane, monotonous tasks like sitting in a parked car for twelve hours hoping to catch a glimpse of a cheating partner, or spending the whole afternoon buried in files trying to find that one piece of evidence that could prove a case of fraud. It’s not glamorous, but it yields results — and that’s exactly what I need for this case.
(Flipping of pages as KIM DOKJA reads.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: I spent the better part of the day scouring archives — newspaper, scientific journals, you name it — in hopes of finding out more about Ms Yoo’s husband and his work. Call me paranoid all you want, but something about knowing the man worked with radiation and the abnormal clumps of dog hair and fallen teeth I’d found at their house didn’t sit right with me, especially coupled with that strange man’s warnings on the day I almost caught the creature. Could the poor animal have been poisoned by something Ms Yoo’s husband accidentally brought back from the office? Did he perhaps try to get rid of the dog as a way to eliminate the evidence of his negligence? Or was there something altogether more sinister at play here?
(Sound of writing.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: All public records suggested the research project focused mainly on observation of the effects of fallout at ground level, but the details were glaringly scarce. What’s more, buried in between fluff pieces in the newspapers around the time the project was announced, there were a few articles dedicated to the scepticism of the locals and the fears those scientists reignited with their presence, so a case could definitely be made that one of the concerned parties may have been trying to terrorise those involved enough to get them to abandon their research — though I wasn’t able to access police reports to corroborate that suspicion yet.
(Sound of a book closing, then the scraping of a chair as KIM DOKJA gets up from his seat.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: There were records of complaints, too, from the people whose land was being used to conduct the research, ranging from general displeasure to outright conspiratorial accusations about the team deliberately giving the population radiation poisoning to study its effects, though none of these seemed to have amounted to anything. In addition, the project seemed to have had quite the turnover rate in the beginning, with a handful of scientists and overseers being brought on board and let go every couple of weeks during the first few months. Altogether, these facts painted an unclear but turbulent picture, lending credence to the theory that perhaps a disgruntled local — or even a project member — was trying to get those working on the research to quit. All I had to do now was find a current list of the people making up the team to start narrowing down my search, but that was proving to be surprisingly difficult.
(Sound of a collision as someone bumps into KIM DOKJA, dropping a folder on the floor and scattering its contents.)
KIM DOKJA: Pardon me, I wasn’t looking where I was going.
JUNG HEEWON: (Unconcerned) No worries, it was my fault.
KIM DOKJA: Here, you dropped this.
(KIM DOKJA bends down and begins to pick up the scattered papers.)
KIM DOKJA: (He stops gathering the papers, muttering to himself as he notices something) Wait, huh?
JUNG HEEWON: (Quickly and matter-of-factly) This case is too hot, detective, you’re going to get burnt sooner or later.
(JUNG HEEWON walks away.)
KIM DOKJA: (Reacting a beat too late) …what? Hey!
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: The woman had disappeared just as quickly as she had appeared, but that wasn’t the strangest part of the interaction. No, the strangest part was what I had in my hands just then, delivered to me almost as if the heavens were taking pity on my blind stumbling about — or, more likely, because she wanted me to see it.
KIM DOKJA: (Muttering) Well, that’s a surprising amount of familiar faces…
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: Held in my hands was a whole dossier on the project I had just spent the day trying to find information about. Not only that, it came with some very illuminating pictures which seemed to depict the members of the team standing inside their lab, all donning identical white lab coats and looking at the camera, clearly eager to be doing anything other than posing for the shot. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised to see that man from the alleyway standing among them, and seeing the woman who had bumped into me just now next to him — I still remembered her face despite how fleeting our encounter had been — also tracked with my burgeoning theory of a disgruntled co-worker, but the thing that shocked me most, despite my time-honed cynicism, was seeing none other than Ms Yoo herself, standing in the middle of the group, wearing a pristine lab coat and smiling at the camera the same way she’d smiled at me when I first saw her in my office.
KIM DOKJA: (Still muttering) Son of a… (he lets out an incredulous laugh.)
KIM DOKJA: (He sighs.) What now?
(Scene transition.)
(Sound of a car door closing, then an old engine sputters to life as KIM DOKJA begins driving.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: Technically speaking, what I’d discovered about Ms Yoo didn’t really change anything — whether she was a Doctor or a housewife, she was still my client — and I had no reason to believe that she would stage her own dog’s kidnapping and then hire a private detective to track it down. For what? It made no sense.
(Driving car noises.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: My next move, then, was to look into the other people in the picture, especially the ones I’d already bumped into before, considering neither of those instances seemed to have been coincidences. I went back to Ms Yoo’s neighbourhood the next day and looked around for clues regarding that man and the teenager, managing to track down a small corner store where they’d been sighted together and getting testimony from an elderly neighbour who was certain he’d seen both of them lurking around on the day the dog was kidnapped. That, coupled with the fact that I’d seen the dog myself not too far from its home, led me to believe that sticking around the area would probably help me gather a few more clues, so I parked my car a bit out of the way and decided to take a little stroll.
(Footsteps.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: I first headed to the alleyway where I’d lost the dog the first time and started my search from there. Contrary to what most would expect, however, I’d come somewhat differently prepared for this search due to my recent… discoveries.
(Sound of a flip being switched, then a brief burst of staticky clicking as a Geiger counter turns on.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: Now, this was definitely a bit of a reach, and I’d certainly feel foolish if this little stunt ended up being for nothing — especially with how much this stupid machine ended up costing me — but considering everything I kept finding out about the people surrounding the disappearance of this mutt ended up leading back to that research project, it at least felt plausible to assume I’d end up finding either them or the dog by following signs of radiation. If not, well… egg on my face, I suppose. It was worth a try.
(Geiger counter clicks a few times sporadically as KIM DOKJA begins walking.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: Perhaps unsurprisingly, the machine didn’t seem to pick up anything out of the ordinary as I walked, and I have to admit my pride took a bit of a hit with every step I took just waving that silly little rod around like a fool. That is, until I decided to make my way back to Ms Yoo’s house to see if I could pick a trail up from there, and got a bit more than I was bargaining for.
(Clicking increases in frequency until the sound becomes an almost shrill, continuous buzz.)
KIM DOKJA: (Surprised) What the —
(KIM DOKJA turns the Geiger counter off.)
KIM DOKJA: (Whispering) That’s not good…
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: I followed the sound all the way to that blasted window only to be stopped cold by what I saw: dozens of scratches on the wall just below the windowsill, and a pattern of cracks spreading out from the base of the glass indicating a forceful collision of some sort, with tufts of white hair stuck to the thin spiderweb-like cracks and a sharp little tooth embedded in the scratched, drool-slicked metal frame.
(Sound of a window rattling as it remains closed.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: At least Ms Yoo had remembered to lock the window since last time I was here. It didn’t seem like she was home either, so this had either happened while she was out or it was the reason she had left. My bet was on the former; Ms Yoo didn’t seem the type to run away from things.
(KIM DOKJA turns the Geiger counter on again and begins walking away.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: Since the scene seemed fresh enough, I decided to take my chances and see if I could pick up a trail on the dog, perhaps follow it to wherever it had been holing up this past few weeks. Much to my delight — and, admittedly, my dismay — I was soon able to do so, and so I picked up my pace while trying not to worry about whatever it was I would find at the end of this radioactive road.
(Geiger counter continues to click with alarming frequency as KIM DOKJA breaks into a jog.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: The trail took me a fair distance away, where the neighbourhood bordered on a plot of land filled with four storey apartment blocks still under construction, and seemingly straight inside of one of the buildings. I was apprehensive about following it indoors given I really had no idea what I was walking into, but spotting a conspicuous car parked just outside made my mind up for me.
(Footsteps and Geiger counter clicks continue, then KIM DOKJA flips the switch to turn the machine off.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: It soon became apparent that the little beast had been roaming about the place, not only due to the fact the Geiger counter alerted on almost every corner of the building, but also since I could clearly see the signs myself: pawprints on the dusty ground, scratches on the walls, tufts of hair scattered around, and a few abandoned paint buckets that had been mauled almost beyond recognition. And then, just when I was having second thoughts about remaining here, I heard voices drifting in from somewhere upstairs.
(Conversation echoes a bit from the distance.)
LEE JIHYE: (Confused) Where did it go?
JUNG HEEWON: (Equally taken aback) It was here just a second ago…
LEE JIHYE: This better not be another one of Han Sooyoung’s cheap jumpscares.
JUNG HEEWON: (Hesitating) I don’t think that’s what this is.
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: It only took a few moments of listening to the conversation for me to recognise the voices, and so, perhaps against my better judgement, I decided to make my presence known.
(Footsteps as KIM DOKJA goes upstairs.)
LEE JIHYE: (Startled) Who’s that? (She lets out a breath.) Oh, about time you showed up.
KIM DOKJA: You’ve been waiting for me, I take it?
LEE JIHYE: Yeah, we’ve been standing here for — ow!
JUNG HEEWON: (Interrupting) We thought we might see you again, is all.
KIM DOKJA: I shouldn’t be surprised, it feels like I’ve been one step behind you this whole time.
JUNG HEEWON: You’ve been keeping up just fine, detective.
KIM DOKJA: Appreciate it — say, didn’t you have another friend?
JUNG HEEWON: (Awkward) Oh, forget about him, he’s… been called away for work.
KIM DOKJA: (Understanding) I see, his loss, then.
JUNG HEEWON: (Laughs.) Anyway, I suppose you have questions for us?
KIM DOKJA: I certainly do. For example, where is Bihyung, and why did you take him?
JUNG HEEWON: Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, detective, why don’t you tell us what you know so far?
KIM DOKJA: Let’s see… (Hums in thought for a moment.) Ms Yoo’s dog was taken from her home by this young lady and your absent friend, but then gave you the slip as well and is currently on the loose — somewhere in this building, I presume. As for the motive behind the crime, I must admit that I don’t have a concrete theory yet, but I’m leaning on it being related to the research project you were working on with Ms Yoo. You want to sabotage it by bringing to light the negligent exposure to radiation the poor dog has been subjected to. Close enough?
JUNG HEEWON: (Pleasantly surprised) You have been busy, detective. Almost full marks.
KIM DOKJA: Oh? Please do tell me what I got wrong.
JUNG HEEWON: It wasn’t negligent exposure, and we’re not trying to sabotage the research, we’re trying to bring it back on track.
KIM DOKJA: Wait, are you saying Ms Yoo irradiated her dog on purpose?
(Footsteps approaching.)
YOO SANGAH: (Indignant) I didn’t irradiate Bihyung, it was an accident.
KIM DOKJA: Ms Yoo? Have you been following me?
JUNG HEEWON: (Jumping in without waiting) An accident? Just how many times did this “accident” happen?
YOO SANGAH: (Dismissive, ignoring KIM DOKJA’s question) Alright, well, the first time was an accident. The rest were my husband’s idea. You know how he gets when he finds something new to research.
LEE JIHYE: (Piping in) And you didn’t think to stop him from experimenting on your dog?!
YOO SANGAH: (Defensive) Who am I to stand in the way of progress? Besides, he made some really good points about just how much this research could help people.
JUNG HEEWON: Help your wallet, you mean. We know about those deals you were making behind everyone’s back.
YOO SANGAH: (Sighs.) Well, we are people too.
KIM DOKJA: (Finally butting in) Wait, I get the gist of what’s going on here, but I don’t understand how giving a dog radiation poisoning is profitable in any way.
YOO SANGAH: (Explaining like he’s stupid) Obviously it isn’t.
KIM DOKJA: Then what were you doing to it?
YOO SANGAH: Spontaneous evolution via radiation-induced mutations.
KIM DOKJA: That doesn’t make any — (catches himself going off track) you know what, sure. (He takes a quick breath.) Why hire me at all, though? I didn’t do anything you couldn’t have come up with on your own, and it sounds to me like I’ve just gotten in the way of whatever this is.
YOO SANGAH: Well, yes, but I needed someone to make first contact with Bihyung in case he’d gotten too dangerous to be around. Especially now that my useless husband has gone missing after the last time he went out to look for —
(A fleshy tearing sound interrupts her words and something falls and splatters to the ground.)
JUNG HEEWON: (After a stunned pause) …Found your husband.
(YOO SANGAH gasps, LEE JIHYE lets out a shocked ‘ew!’.)
KIM DOKJA: (Trying to process what just happened) Uh… was he stuck to the ceiling this whole time?
JUNG HEEWON: (Way too casually for the circumstances) Seems like it.
KIM DOKJA: (Horrified) Is that a flesh cocoon?
JUNG HEEWON: (Still way too carefree) I’d say flesh web rather than cocoon.
LEE JIHYE: (In a loud whisper) Can we get out of here please?
JUNG HEEWON: Oh yeah, we should leave now.
(Sound of approaching dog paws click-clacking over the floor.)
LEE JIHYE: Shit, too late.
KIM DOKJA: (Muttering) I’m not going to get paid for finding this dog, am I.
(The dog stops.)
YOO SANGAH: (Tentatively) Bihyung?
(The little dog barks a few times nonthreateningly.)
YOO SANGAH: (Speaking low and steady) I suggest we all back away slowly…
(The little dog barks a few times again, but on the last bark the noise turns into a monstrous roar as the sound of flesh tearing and bones crunching signal the dog’s final metamorphosis.)
JUNG HEEWON: (Shouting) Fuck that, run!
(Sounds of running.)
NARRATOR KIM DOKJA: (Slightly out of breath) Though my eyes didn’t want to believe it, what had begun as a little Maltese dog morphed into some sort of insectoid abomination with way too many limbs in an explosion of fur and flesh. I wasn’t sure if it was chasing us, but better safe than dead, in this case. Speaking of, if I made it out of this I would definitely have to charge Ms Yoo extra for all the undue trouble —
LEE JIHYE: (Interrupting, out of breath) Can you not do that right now? It’s even weirder hearing you when we’re running for our lives!
KIM DOKJA: I’m trying to paint the scene!
LEE JIHYE: You’ll be paining it with your guts if you keep getting distracted!
(The monster roars again from a disconcertingly short distance as it begins to give chase.)
KIM DOKJA: (Conceding) I see your point.
(More running. Behind them, the monster smashes through a wall.)
KIM DOKJA: We need to lose it! The staircase might be narrow enough.
JUNG HEEWON: Up or down?
KIM DOKJA: Down. I don’t want to be stuck on the roof with that thing. That your car outside?
JUNG HEEWON: Yes!
KIM DOKJA: Good, we’re driving out of here!
(The monster roars again.)
KIM DOKJA: Go go go!
(Their running footsteps echo as they run down the staircase. Then they emerge into open air.)
KIM DOKJA: To the car, quick!
(They run. Car doors open and close as they pile in.)
YOO SANGAH: Thank you for letting me ride with you, detective.
KIM DOKJA: Yeah, yeah, I’m charging you extra for this.
JUNG HEEWON: Wait, why are you driving my car?
KIM DOKJA: (Dismissively) Don’t ask questions, we need to go.
(The car engine starts, but they don’t begin driving.)
LEE JIHYE: (Nervously) What are you waiting for?
KIM DOKJA: (More to himself) It didn’t follow us.
LEE JIHYE: Wasn’t that the point?
KIM DOKJA: Yes, but something's…
(Sound of glass braking and a roar as the monster smashes through the wall of the building.)
JUNG HEEWON: Drive, now!
(The monstrous insect lands heavily on the ground. The car drives off in a hurry.)
YOO SANGAH: How are we going to lose it?
KIM DOKJA: Any tunnels nearby?
YOO SANGAH: Not that I know of.
LEE JIHYE: Wait, on top of the monster, is that…?
(LEE JIHYE winds the window down.)
LEE JIHYE: (Shouting) Lee Gilyoung, get your stupid bug monster to stop chasing us!
LEE GILYOUNG (Shouting back from a distance as the monster runs to catch up) Sorry! Director Han said to pretend like I wasn’t here!
LEE JIHYE: You don’t have to call her that! (She lets out a huff of frustration.)
JUNG HEEWON: Guess that means we’re on our own?
LEE JIHYE: Why are we running? We can just fight it!
KIM DOKJA: (Pointedly) We can’t fight anything, we’re just regular people right now!
LEE JIHYE: Screw that, ram the car into the bug!
KIM DOKJA: What? No!
JUNG HEEWON: That might work.
KIM DOKJA: Are you insane? With all of you still inside? Hey, let go of the wheel —
(Sound of the car’s tires screeching as it turns around violently.)
JUNG HEEWON: Ready?
LEE JIHYE & YOO SANGAH: Ready!
KIM DOKJA: Wait —
(The car engine revs and they accelerate violently towards the roaring bug monster.)
(There’s a grand collision between the car and the monster, then it fades into a dull ringing sound as everything else goes quiet.)
(The ringing sound gradually grows quieter, after a moment of silence, the Outro Music plays.)
“And… CUT!” Han Sooyoung threw her hands up in the air victoriously. “Nice work, team!”
Kim Dokja, still smouldering from that final collision, coughed to try and clear his lungs as he staggered towards her. “What the hell was that?”
“It was the high octane finale our viewers were clamouring for,” she explained with a smile.
Hearing that, Lee Jihye looked up from where she was putting out the fire on her costume skirt. “Wait, finale? Did we die?”
“Well, yes,” Han Sooyoung replied matter-of-factly. “You rammed your vehicle full force into a giant radioactive abomination, of course you died.”
“Aw man,” Lee Jihye sounded genuinely disappointed for a second. “I really thought we had a chance there.”
“I mean, you did kill the monster,” she offered. “So the city is safe. Congrats!”
Still a little upset, Lee Jihye muttered something about the scenario sucking as she walked away. Meanwhile, Kim Dokja had finally taken off that trench coat and fedora he’d been stuck wearing the whole scenario, having unceremoniously tossed them to the side before going to look for his usual white coat.
“You know that’s not how any of that works, right?” he called out as he searched the costume closet.
“Yeah, well, the constellations were loving it.” Han Sooyoung shrugged.
Kim Dokja couldn’t resist checking into the Star Stream channel. Sure enough, reception for their little production had been mostly positive.
[Constellations who love tragedies are pleased with the conclusion.]
[Some constellations who hate violence dislike the final scene.]
[Constellations who like unconventional stories were amused by the story.]
[A few constellations who admire sacrifice applaud the character’s actions.]
[Constellations who love excitement wish there had been more fights.]
[A constellation that likes ‘enemies turning into allies’ is shedding bittersweet tears at the ending.]
After scrolling for a few moments, he could only click his tongue in response and close out of the messages, going back to looking for his clothes.
“That was fun.” Yoo Sangah, having just finished changing out of her ruined costume, joined them with a laugh.
“Who’s going to do the credits?” Jung Heewon, also changed and looking far too cheery for someone who’d just escaped an explosion to the face, asked. “I mean, it can’t just end like that, right?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Han Sooyoung waved her hand. “Jang Hayoung stepped up to be my end credit narrator. She’s wrapping everything up nicely.”
At that moment, still covered in soot and fake monster guts, Lee Gilyoung rushed in and went straight to Kim Dokja.
“How did I do? Was my monster scary?” he looked up expectantly.
“Yeah, real scary. Good job.” Kim Dokja ruffled his hair, then watched as he ran off to find Lee Jihye with an excited spring in his step. “Hey, has anyone seen my coat?”
“It’s in the —” Han Sooyoung began answering, then got distracted by something on her screen. “Oh, ratings are coming in!”
“Really? How is it looking?” Yoo Sangah approached and took a seat next to her.
Simultaneously, the system notifications rolled out.
[Sub Scenario - Embedded Narrative has ended.]
[300,000 coins will be distributed to all participants as basic clearance compensation.]
[Additional compensation settlement will begin.]
“All participants?” Jung Heewon also walked over. “Does that mean even those that ditched halfway through are going to get rewarded?”
“Hey, at least that gave you a chance to join us!” Han Sooyoung gave her a playful jab with her elbow as she moved to make some room.
“Where did you say my coat was?” Kim Dokja tried asking again before they got even more distracted.
“Uh… I put it with — no way!” Han Sooyoung got sidetracked once more. “Are we going to get a Story out of this?”
“I don’t think so…” Yoo Sangah mused. “That’s supposed to be quite the rare reward.”
“Those are some pretty high ratings, though,” she countered.
The three women continued speculating for a few moments as the ratings finished rolling in and the new rewards were calculated and distributed, overall pleased that at least they were getting enough coins for their trouble.
Meanwhile, Kim Dokja had given up trying to ask about his coat and simply walked off in search for it, not really that invested in the results of this Sub Scenario given the more important matters he had to be getting back to.
That was, at least, until a notification indicated that he’d just been awarded a new story.
“Really?” he muttered somewhat incredulously as he went to check. “For that?”
When he saw the story name, however, he had to resist the urge to curse, immediately wishing he had never agreed to do this scenario in the first place.
[The Case-hardened Private Dick]
The others could never find out about this.
Ceewelsh on Chapter 1 Sat 13 Sep 2025 09:52AM UTC
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Ceewelsh on Chapter 1 Sat 13 Sep 2025 10:07AM UTC
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Ceewelsh on Chapter 2 Sat 13 Sep 2025 10:30AM UTC
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Ceewelsh on Chapter 3 Sat 13 Sep 2025 11:06AM UTC
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Poetry on Chapter 3 Sun 14 Sep 2025 07:03PM UTC
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