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The tension in the arena was electric — a living pulse that seemed to synchronise with every click of Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouse. The roar of the crowd faded into a distant hum as his world narrowed to the glowing monitor before him. His teammates’ voices crackled through his headset — urgent, hopeful, alive. They were counting on him, their captain, to hold the line for just a few seconds more before their respawn.
The match hung by a thread. The scoreboard was nearly even, inhibitors destroyed on both sides, and Baron Nashor was up.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice, calm yet commanding, broke through the static, “Push top. One stay base. Clear the wave. I’ll handle Baron.”
Known throughout the scene as The Supreme King, Yoo Joonghyuk controlled Azir, his signature mid-lane champion — the Emperor of the Sands himself. His movements were razor-sharp, weaving in and out of vision as his opponents began to take down Baron Nashor. He could almost feel the rhythm of the enemy jungler’s smite, the heartbeat of the fight itself.
Then, the moment came. The Baron’s health dropped dangerously low. With a single flick of his wrist, Yoo Joonghyuk flashed into the pit, summoned his sand soldiers, and unleashed his ultimate.
A flash of light. A split second of silence.
[ SupremeKing has stolen Baron Nashor! ]
The arena erupted into chaos. The crowd screamed his name as Yoo Joonghyuk escaped over the wall with a perfectly timed flash. He regrouped with his team, their support instantly restoring his health. The rhythm of the match shifted in an instant — momentum was theirs.
They charged mid-lane, an unstoppable force. Azir’s soldiers carved through the enemy like blades of sunlight.
[ QUADRA KILL! ]
The audience rose to their feet.
[ PENTA KILL! ]
And then there was silence silence. The only sound was the explosion of the Blue Team’s Nexus.
[ VICTORY ]
The screen went white. Confetti rained from above. Yoo Joonghyuk removed his headset, the roar of the crowd crashing back into his world like a tidal wave. His teammates leapt from their seats, embracing one another, their faces alight with disbelief and triumph. Cameras flashed. Commentators shouted his name.
But Yoo Joonghyuk remained seated for a few moments, watching his teammates celebrate. He exhaled softly, relief washing over him, and glanced towards the massive victory banner behind them. His reflection shimmered faintly across the screen — calm, composed, unreadable as always. Yet, for a brief moment, a small smile tugged at his lips.
“Captain!”
He turned at the sound of Lee Jihye’s voice, gesturing for him to join them as the chanting of ‘Supreme King!’ grew louder. The commentator called Team Pacheonmaeng to the centre of the stage.
And so he rose, adjusting his team jacket, and walked towards the centre with his teammates to claim their trophy. The stage lights glimmered against his sharp gaze, gold and violet hues reflected in his eyes. His teammates raised his arms as they bowed together in gratitude to their fans. Moments later, the announcer declared him the team’s MVP, and he was invited to share a few words in the post-match interview.
That’s how it always is. He always led his team to win five world championships, and dominated the E-sports world. He practically rules the gaming world — hence why he was known as The Supreme King.
Post-tournament season was something Yoo Joonghyuk had long anticipated after weeks of relentless training. His team had finally been granted a month-long break. Yet, as expected, his manager, Uriel, never failed to remind him that he still needed to stream at least once a week — to maintain his presence and keep his fans entertained.
And Yoo Joonghyuk already knew what he would stream — the very game that had consumed his thoughts since its beta release: Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined World.
It was a game infamous for its merciless difficulty. Levelling up was a test of endurance; world bosses demanded flawless coordination or sheer tactical brilliance. Those who dared to wander alone were swiftly devoured by its unforgiving world. Even duels between players were brutal—fought for SSS-grade items and ranking prestige.
Yet this was where Yoo Joonghyuk thrived. Within this digital wasteland, he reigned supreme. As a guild master, he had led his comrades to countless victories — slaying bosses, collecting rare relics, and dominating every server event. His guild’s name alone carried weight, its reputation spanning multiple servers.
Still, there had always been one name whispered with greater reverence — and fear — than his own: the Demon King of Salvation.
Few dared to challenge that entity. Fewer still lived to tell the tale — and not for reasons anyone expected. The Demon King’s difficulty was legendary, yes, but what unsettled players most was not his strength; it was the consequence of provoking him. Anyone reckless enough to taunt, attack, or even send gifts to the Demon King soon found themselves targeted by the Supreme King himself.
And tonight was no different.
As soon as the stream went live, Yoo Joonghyuk’s screen burst into light and motion.
Demon-like Judge of Fire: Show ’em, King!
Supreme-king-lover: Now THIS is why he’s called the Supreme King!
User932: LET’S GOOOO KING!!
The chat scrolled so fast it was almost unreadable — a blur of usernames, emojis, and gleaming donation icons flashing across the screen. Tens of thousands had already joined, the viewer count climbing with every passing second, though the stream had barely begun.
Yoo Joonghyuk leaned forward slightly, the faint reflection of the game glinting in his dark eyes. His expression remained unreadable — composed, almost indifferent — yet there was a quiet fire in the way his fingers moved across the controls. Precise. Disciplined. Utterly focused.
The wasteland stretched before him: cracked earth, ember skies, and the distant rumbling of something vast and unseen. His avatar, clad in the Black Infinite Dimension Space Coat, stood alone before the entrance to the Demon Realm.
“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered under his breath.
A shadow flickered on the horizon. A red tag. Then another. Ambushers. Players trying to challenge the Demon King. Players foolish enough to raise their intimacy level with him.
But Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t have time for theatrics. His character moved like a phantom, blades of light slicing through the dust. The game’s visuals were so detailed that even the blood looked disconcertingly real. One by one, their avatars crumbled into fragments of data.
He didn’t notice the faint smirk ghosting across his lips — but his viewers did.
User4951: Did he just smile?
LJY: When Master says this is a restricted area, it’s a restricted area!
Anonymous: He’s so possessive over the ugliest NPC!
That last comment made his brow twitch. He set his controller down briefly and adjusted his mic.
“He’s not ugly,” he said simply.
His tone was flat, but the quiet conviction beneath it was unmistakable. A few seconds of stunned silence passed before the chat erupted — laughter, teasing comments, and hearts flooding the screen.
He ignored them all.
As soon as he was teleported from the entrance, the world around him shifted. The Demon Realm unfolded. The air thick with crimson mist, faint echoes of choral music trembling in the distance. His footsteps — steel against stone — reverberated through the ancient halls.
[SupremeKing has entered the Demon Realm]
Anonymous: There he goes again…
Demon-like Judge of Fire: Weekly reset~ <3 He’s off to visit his wife!
Anonymous: He’s gonna break that console again!
User1412: I’m new here. What is he doing?
User4869: Gift spamming… He’s going to try marrying that NPC again.
User1412: …What?
Yoo Joonghyuk guided his avatar deeper into the Demon Realm, towards the throne. And there, at the heart of the ruined citadel — the Demon King of Salvation awaited.
Despite what others said, he never understood why people called him ugly. Even motionless, the demon looked serene. The flickering torchlight reflected in his crimson eyes, painting his features in divine melancholy. The choir swelled as Joonghyuk approached.
Some viewers expected him to fight. But there was no battle. There never was. Only his footsteps echoing through the silence as he began placing gifts before the Demon King: rare elixirs, relics, dungeon fragments, obsidians, gems, even SSSR items.
Then the chat exploded again.
[Demon-like Judge of Fire gifted you 1000 coins]
Demon-like Judge of Fire: JUST LET THEM MARRY ALREADY!!
User1412: He really is… serious about this?
User4869: Unfortunately, he is.
Supreme-king-lover: I get jealous of the way he looks at that NPC.
Deep down, Yoo Joonghyuk wanted to say he wished he could marry the Demon King. But he didn’t. His avatar simply stood still, offering gift after gift.
[INTIMACY LEVEL INCREASED]
[INTIMACY LEVEL INCREASED]
[YOU HAVE REACHED YOUR WEEKLY LIMIT]
[ WARNING!!! YOU CANNOT MARRY AN NPC]
The system’s messages flashed repeatedly, but he ignored them — and the roaring chat — until every offering had been made.
Finally, the Demon King rose from his throne, feathered wings unfurling as he approached.
“So, you have returned…”
A new voiceline? Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes widened. That wasn’t in the previous patch.
User666: Wait— a new voiceline?!!
Demon-like Judge of Fire: This wasn’t in the last patch…
Go-Supreme-King: Is this new lore?!
New dialogue options appeared on his screen. He made his avatar kneel before the Demon King and selected one, “I came here to give you another offering…”
“You truly have no end to your devotion, Supreme King,” the Demon King replied.
Then, a cutscene began — one none of them had seen before. The Demon King’s face was clear now — and it looked exactly like him. The demon’s wings fluttered as he drew close, hands cupping Joonghyuk’s avatar’s face.
“Maybe I should reward you for that…”
He leaned closer. The scene didn’t show what happened next, but the implication was unmistakable as the music shifted — soft, romantic, impossibly intimate for an MMORPG. Yoo Joonghyuk felt his ears burn and grumbled something inaudible under his breath.
The chat erupted upon witnessing the oddly new cutscene no one has ever seen before.
Demon-like Judge of Fire: OH MY GOD.
Demon-king-marry-me: HOW CAN I GET THIS SCENE FOR MYSELF?!
User4951: A BETA RELEASE?!
Demon-like Judge of Fire: GET MARRIED ALREADY!!
Secretive-plotter: How can I unlock this cutscene?
The cutscene faded just as the Demon King pulled away from the embrace, leaving the gamer breathless.
“I told you,” his avatar said, voice flashing across the screen. “You’ll never be alone.”
“And yet, every time you visit, you leave,” the Demon King murmured, voice low — almost sorrowful.
The chat lost its mind. The lines sounded too real. Too human.
Unfazed, Yoo Joonghyuk opened his inventory again and began placing new offerings.
[SupremeKing has gifted the Demon King of Salvation: Eternal Tear ×1]
[SupremeKing has gifted the Demon King of Salvation: Soul Fragment ×10]
[SupremeKing has gifted the Demon King of Salvation: Eternal Roses from Celestia ×12]
The Demon King’s voice softened once more.
“Promises don’t bind gods, Supreme King.”
The voice was too vivid, too human.
Yoo Joonghyuk exhaled, eyes never leaving the screen. Then he said — tenderly, almost forgetting he was live.
“Good night, Fool.” He breathed, almost a whisper, but still enough for everyone to hear.
And the stream ended.
As the screen faded to black, Yoo Joonghyuk removed his headphones and leaned back with a deep sigh. His reflection stared back at him in the dark monitor when a soft knock came at the door. He didn’t need to speak before it opened.
Kim Dokja entered, carrying two mugs. Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes softened as soon as he saw the beautiful figure in front of him. He looks real. Very real. Very alive. Far more human than any avatar — and he is only Joonghyuk’s and no one else’s.
Dokja set the mugs on the desk, then leaned down to cup Joonghyuk’s cheek.
“I can’t believe you’re still playing that game,” Dokja said softly.
Joonghyuk huffed, tugging him closer by the waist until Dokja settled on his lap. Hiding his face in the crook of Dokja’s neck, he muttered, “Shut up.”
Dokja chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Why are you so obsessed with my in-game doppelgänger, anyway?”
Joonghyuk looked up, his tone flat but his lips faintly curved. “You should be flattered.”
“Flattered?” Dokja raised a brow. “You practically married my digital clone!”
Joonghyuk rolled his eyes at his theatrics. “You’re the one whose father’s company used your face,” he retorted, tracing lazy circles on Dokja’s waist. “I can’t marry him yet. Would you rather someone else did?”
Dokja stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter.
“Joonghyuk-ah,” he teased, eyes glinting, “are you saying you’re doing all this because you don’t want other players raising their intimacy level with a character that looks like me?”
Yes, you’re mine. He wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss against Dokja’s neck, earning another laugh.
“You really are an idiot, Joonghyuk-ah,” Dokja sighed fondly, cupping his face so their eyes met.
“I know you were behind those custom cutscenes and cheesy voicelines,” Joonghyuk murmured. “And I’m getting close to making the digital version of you mine, too.”
Dokja blinked — then smiled. That infuriatingly beautiful smile that made Joonghyuk’s chest ache.
“Next time,” Dokja whispered, voice warm with affection, “how about paying more attention to me than to the Demon King of Salvation?”
Joonghyuk brushed aside his fringe and cupped his cheek, pressing their foreheads together.
“That sounds fair,” he whispered.
And then, he kissed him.
It wasn’t rushed or desperate this time — just slow, steady, and achingly tender. A kiss that spoke of sleepless nights, of waiting, of missing someone so much that even a digital reflection could never fill the void.
When they finally parted, Dokja’s breath trembled against his lips. His eyes softened, gleaming faintly in the glow of the monitor.
“I missed you, Joonghyuk-ah,” he whispered.
Joonghyuk smiled gently, weary, and utterly sincere as his thumb brushed against Dokja’s jaw.
“I’m home,” he murmured, the words falling between them like a promise.
And when he drew Dokja close once more, it wasn’t out of fear that he’d disappear again. It was simply to feel the warmth he had after those long weeks of training — to be finally home with his Kim Dokja.