Chapter Text
Tranquility
For once, the industrial complex was quiet.
Kim Dokja Company’s plans for the day were a stark contrast to their usual relentless routine. Their normal litany of arduous training and tackling hidden scenarios had been given a break in preparation for the great war between saints and demons.
No hidden scenarios popping up like unwanted ads. No constellations betting on whether Kim Dokja would lose a limb today or tomorrow. Just them, sitting around like normal people.
Which, honestly, made everyone more nervous than usual.
Every member of the company had gathered in the main living room. The walls carried a muted brown with a faint greenish hue, giving the space a lived-in warmth.
The couches were drawn into a circle at the very heart of the room, while the dining table stood off to the side near the kitchen, Yoo Joonghyuk's Kitchen tools placed in precise locations (clean freak)
On the couch furthest from the window sat Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung. The two bickered as they always did, their voices rising and falling like sparrows in a quarrel.
“A centipede is obviously better for scouting! It can go anywhere!”
“But my dogs are smarter and can actually fight!”
Yet their words clashed only on the surface. Their hands remained firmly wrapped around the white coat of the man between them, gripping him as if he were a life raft in a churning sea, fearing that letting go for even a moment might cause him to break apart, scattering into fragile story fragments
Which, fair, Kim Dokja thought. I’ve kind of earned that paranoia.
He let the familiar sounds wash over him. This was peace. This was what they were fighting for. What he'd been fighting for
Across from them, Lee Jihye, dressed in a short-sleeved gray hoodie with her black sword at her waist, sat in uncharacteristic silence. Her eyes, however, betrayed her.
Every so often, they darted to the man on the couch, confirming his presence before she looked away quick like she'd been caught doing something embarrassing. Her shoulders would relax for maybe five seconds before the cycle started again.
The fear of Kim Dokja vanishing had woven itself into the very fabric of the nebulas existence.
Han Sooyoung, as always, had a lemon-flavored lollipop tucked between her lips, her eyes narrowed and her brows furrowed as she pored over his plans.
The vice leader of the company, his closest confidant, the person most likely to call him an idiot to his face, and a figure both indispensable and divisive.
Her pale skin caught the warmth of the light, while her legs tapped the floor restlessly. The small beauty mark just below her eye only seemed to heighten her features.
Those dark eyes, which so often gleamed with schadenfreude, now carried a flicker of worry, anxious and unsettled.
The cause of the worry?
Well, that was obvious to everyone in the room
“This plan is insane, even for you,” she muttered, not looking up. “Trying to...You’ll get torn in half.”
“It’s the most efficient path,” Dokja replied mildly.
“The most efficient path to the afterlife, maybe.”
The Demon King just offered a vague hum in response, which was his way of saying 'I'm not arguing because I know you're right, but I'm doing it anyway.'
Yoo Joonghyuk, sat cross-legged in his black combat boots and dark trousers. His chiseled face and jaw were stern, his nose sharp, and his lips pressed into a firm line.
His eyes that seemed to hold the secrets and misfortunes of the world, as though he had lived through every sorrow imaginable (he had) were fixed on the black heavenly demon sword as he examined it slowly and in silence.
This blade had been with him since the beginning of his regressions, across countless lifetimes. It always returned to him. Its worn handle felt like an old companion, scarred, battered, yet steadfast and constantly persevering just like him.
Perhaps the only constants across his regressions were himself and the weapons that endured with him.
His gaze swept over the bickering children, the frustrated writer, and finally settled on the source of her exasperation.
The man in the white coat. The garment radiated a veneer of purity and innocence.
But Yoo Joonghyuk knew the truth.
Behind that facade lay a dark salvation.
It was the salvation of someone who placed the happiness of others above his own.
The salvation of a Demon.
Kim Dokja seemed to feel the weight of that stare. He didn't need to look to know Yoo Joonghyuk was watching him. The protagonist’s default state was ‘looming death.’
He slowly lifted his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
Oh, how they despised that smile.The smile that always appeared just before he vanished.
“See something you like, Joonghyuk-ah?” he called out, smirking when the regressor’s jaw visibly tightened in response and he grunted.
Success.
He knew Yoo Joonghyuk better than he knew himself; the man’s traits and mannerisms were like the familiar streets of a neighborhood he had grown up in.
This was the man who had endured horrors untold. The countless deaths and tragedies of his companions, betrayals beyond measure, and the cruel burden of being forced to regress again and again until his very mind buckled
The man who had lost his humanity in order to see the scenarios through to it's end. The end of the story. The end of a journey. The end of his journey. And though he finally succeeded, at what cost?
That was the question that kept Kim Dokja up at night.
This was the man he had idolized and accompanied for thirteen years through the pages of a webnovel.
He would give everything for him.
To repay the salvation he had offered a mere reader, to repay the second chance he had given to a frail, impoverished teenager. To the young Kim Dokja, bruised and broken, who sought out 'Ways of Survival' in the suffocating loneliness of a decaying hospital room.
The thought lingered longer than he liked. He grimaced, shaking his head as he pushed it away.
It's in the past, he told himself firmly.
Ancient history. Water under the bridge. Other clichés people used when they really meant 'I'm not dealing with that right now.'
His gaze fell to the two children beside him, children who had witnessed more death and destruction at their age than even the most battle-hardened generals.
Their small hands already carried the scent of blood, and the sweet, cloying trace of death seemed to linger around them.
They had matured far too quickly, grown up too fast. And, as always, Kim Dokja believed himself responsible.
With a quiet sigh, he reached out and laid his hands gently atop their heads, ruffling their hair.
Immediately, they tightened their grip, leaning into his touch, as if afraid he’d pull away.
“Hey! No fair, Hyung! You’re taking her side!” Gilyoung protested, though he made no move to escape the head pats.
“He is not! You’re just jealous!” Yoosung shot back, nuzzling closer.
"No i'm not!"
"Yes you are! You always get jealous when Ahjussi pays attention to me."
"That's because you always hog him!"
"I do not hog him. I'm just sitting here."
"You're practically glued to his side!"
"So are you!"
Gilyoung twisted to look up with indignant eyes.“Ahjussi, tell her I’m not jealous. And that you like me better.”
Dokja smiled softly. "...You're both equally important to me. How's that?"
"That's a cop-out answer, Ahjussi" Yoosung mumbled, but she was smiling.
"Yeah, total cop-out," Gilyoung agreed, but his grip on the coat relaxed just slightly.
Their squabble dissolved into quiet contentment. A small, genuine smile touched his lips. This, he could do.
He continued to massage their scalps, his expression softening, before his eyes shifted towards a broad, familiar back.
The back of his shield, friend and companion.
Lee Hyunsung was focused on polishing his shield, but would occasionally glance bashfully at the woman sitting next to him.
Jung Heewon. Her black hair swayed in the breeze, her eyes closed in a moment of peace. Her scarred right hand rested on her sword, ever-ready.
She possessed the countenance of a beautiful knight, leaving little surprise that Lee Hyunsung was enraptured.
"Hyunsung-ssi," she said without opening her eyes, "if you keep staring at me like that, people are going to talk."
Lee Hyunsung jerked, nearly dropping his shield. "I wasn't... I mean, I was just... Your sword needs sharpening!"
"My sword is fine."
"Right. Yes. Of course it is."
He cleared his throat awkwardly and returned to polishing with renewed, flustered, almost frantic energy. From across the room, Lee Jihye made a gagging sound that she tried to disguise as a cough
Heewon's lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile.
Dokja chuckled lightly to himself, enjoying the budding romance, earning puzzled glances from the two teens. He shook his head and dutifully returned to his task of ruffling their soft hair.
The quiet moment let the darker thoughts surface, unavoidable.
Yoo Sangah....
She was still unconscious.
After he returned from the 1863rd round, three years had passed for his friends, and in that time she had sacrificed so much that she now teetered on the edge of vanishing.
Since then, they had defeated Gigantomachia, and he had returned with the star fluid only to learn that his mother had been harmed as well, left in critical condition.
It was a complete failure on his part. He should have tried harder, thought of a way to...to do something.. anything
So he made a choice. He let the Fourth Wall absorb her. It was a risk, undeniably, but it worked, and he would revive her once more on reincarnation island.
“I will save her,” he murmured, the words a vow. “I have to.”
The two children clinging to his sides caught his reaction, their eyes betraying hints of concern now more visible than before.
"Hyung?" Gilyoung’s voice cut through his thoughts. "What’s wrong?"
Yoosung’s grip on his sleeve tightened. "Ahjussi, your face… you look sad."
Again.
That familiar ache settled deep into his chest.
It hurt him more than anything that even the slightest sign of discomfort from him would send the children into worry and concern. He had hurt them far too many times. Failed them in ways that still kept him up at night.
He didn’t deserve the affectionate names they called him, nor the love and care they showered upon him. Yet, despite the bitter ache in his chest, he forced himself to swallow those thoughts and put on a strong face, if only to ease their minds.
He softened his expression, offering them a practiced, gentle smile.
“Hm? It’s nothing. Just thinking out loud.” He gave their heads a light, reassuring pat. “Don’t worry about me.”
Lee Gilyoung’s eyes narrowed slightly, skeptical, but Yoosung relaxed incrementally, trusting his word—or at least, trusting his desire to comfort them.
He chuckled lightly, squeezing their cheeks playfully, before finally surrendering to the warm embrace of the brown couch beneath him.
A slow breath slipped from his lungs as he sank deeper into the cushions and closed his eyes. He was supposed to be resting. The war between saints and demons was delayed, and the company had staged a minor mutiny, enforcing this single day of peace.
And for once, he would actually try and listen to their concerns. The sense of comfort, of his companions safe and around him, was enough.
.........
Well, It would have been more relaxing if he couldn't physically feel the weight of their collective stares. It was like being tucked under a warm but suffocating blanket.
“He looks pale,” Lee Jihye whispered, not quietly enough.
"He always looks pale," Han Sooyoung countered, though her eyes never left him. "It's his normal squid-like complexion."
"Paler than usual, I mean."
“I’m telling you, one little sedative,” Heewon murmured back. “Just a pinch. For his own good.”
"I can hear you," Kim Dokja called out without opening his eyes.
"Good," Heewon replied evenly. "Maybe you'll take the hint and actually rest instead of mentally planning multiple backup plans for the worst-case scenarios."
"I'm resting right now."
"You're plotting something. I can tell the difference."
“Tying him up with a rope would be more reliable,” Han Sooyoung declared, turning to the others as if presenting her case to a jury. Her words were slightly muffled around the lollipop in her mouth.
Yoo Joonghyuk gave a grunt that sounded suspiciously like agreement.
Bastard
"We're not tying anyone up," Lee Hyunsung protested weakly, though he didn't sound particularly convincing.
“Why not?” Lee Jihye asked. “It’s for his own good.”
"Because that's... we can't just..."
"We absolutely can," Han Sooyoung said.
Kim Dokja kept his eyes closed, a wry smile playing on his lips. Let them try. For this single, quiet moment, surrounded by the chaotic, loving people he called his company, he was exactly where he was meant to be.
But before they could act on their threats, the familiar ping of a scenario sounded, and a cold blue light washed over their faces.