Chapter Text
Many, many times throughout Ways of Survival, Kim Dokja wondered who Yoo Joonghyuk’s sponsor was.
An ancient being, rumored to be powerful beyond measure, and yet who never seemed to reach out a hand to assist their incarnation.
It was as if they were merely a spectator, nothing more, nothing less.
Unlike the rest of the constellations, they never appeared in the scenarios, nor did they compete in them. A hidden star in the night sky, alone and unheard of.
Yet to them, everything was seen, and everything was heard.
Kim Dokja had been called a singularity multiple times before, but he would argue that this constellation was even more of an example than he was.
It was as if he was outside of the apocalypse, an exception to the laws of the Star Stream.
As if the rules of this world didn’t apply to someone like him.
Kim Dokja had many theories on who the sponsor was. At first, he thought it was the author’s self-insert. At one point, he thought it was Yoo Joonghyuk’s sister, Yoo Mia. At another, he thought it was Anna Croft.
(They were foolish theories, he would have to admit, in hindsight. But with no further information on the mysterious constellation, it wasn’t like he could come up with any better ideas.)
But as the novel progressed on and on, for years and years, and Yoo Joonghyuk’s sponsor remained a mystery, he came to terms with the fact that whoever was behind the veiled wall was only a side character, a device used for the plot.
Nothing more. Merely an insignificant tool, another chess piece as part of the board that was the story.
Until though, he saw the stygian eyes that had been watching the regressor for so long.
The puppet master who had been controlling the puppet.
[Constellation ‘Most Ancient Dream’ is looking at Constellation ‘Demon King of Salvation’.]
The first time Kim Dokja heard the voice, it was after the tenth scenario. After he had been expelled out of the Star Stream, and left his companions behind so they could live and continue on with the story. Blood was stained on his face, and his incarnation body was decomposing, its stories shattered and leaking onto the ground.
He was supposed to be cast outside of the scenarios, in a place where he could meet a wenny person and make a deal so he could survive.
He ended up in a different setting than he expected. One that was unknown even to him.
It was like a pocket in time that was tucked beneath layers and layers of compiled stories. It was a place where the momentum of the plot froze, and everything was at a standstill.
For a moment, his destruction was suspended.
His stories halted in their cracking, and the pain that he had been feeling was momentarily erased. It was as if he was trapped in some sort of stasis.
When he looked up, all he could see was the vast expanse of inky black night, enveloping his entire surroundings.
It was a soundless space, eerily empty and devoid of any life whatsoever.
It was a place that had never been described before.
Not once in the novel he had read.
For that reason, he knew exactly who it could belong to.
[You came.] A voice suddenly pierced the unsettling silence.
It was obvious who it was.
A place he didn’t know, to match perfectly with the entity he didn’t know.
Kim Dokja glanced around, looking for the source of who spoke, but he found no one. And yet he still knew who had opened their mouth.
“Of course I did.” He replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He kept his tone even, hoping not to betray any of his emotions. “Did I really have a choice?”
The air rippled, as if disturbed by his sudden appearance. It danced for a second, encircling him, and started forming a dense fog that curled around him, slithering up his body. Winding around and around, it carefully blinded him from distinguishing any of his surroundings.
The voice paused, not answering for a moment.
Kim Dokja shifted on his feet, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Both by the figure he was talking to, and his lack of eyesight.
It wasn’t everyday that he met someone of this status.
He knew it they wanted to, they could suppress him in an instant. To them, he’d only be a mere fly.
But instead, they only spoke.
Kim Dokja had a sinking feeling that they were only unleashing a mere fraction of their status with their true voice.
[You know who I am, don’t you?]
He glanced around once more, still searching for the origin of the voice.
“How could I not?” Kim Dokja smiled, but the light didn’t reach his eyes. “A being as powerful as you? It’d be extremely disrespectful of me if I didn’t.”
The mockery was evident in his tone. Kim Dokja hadn’t tried to hide it.
He was testing the waters, seeing how thin the ice was.
[Impertinent fool.] This time, the voice had a slight hint of annoyance, but it was mixed with amusement.
He hadn’t stepped over his limit, it seemed.
[I see your wit halts for no one, not even for a being like me.]
The constellation had returned his blatant impudence with dripping sarcasm that oozed from his voice.
Kim Dokja couldn’t help but smile once more.
“How am I supposed to show my utmost respect to someone who’s too cowardly to even show their face?”
Another jab.
But his provocation went ignored.
The voice only let out an amused huff in response.
[Well, Demon King of Salvation, I can’t exactly let you go around telling everyone who I am, can I?]
His first visit with the ever-cryptic entity was the shortest.
As soon as he had arrived, he was pushed out, with darkness swimming in his vision before he knew it.
The faint glimmer of a smirk was the last thing he saw before he blacked out.
Dammit.
Kim Dokja had never forgotten their first meeting. And to his disappointment, he knew it wouldn’t be the last.
The second time he met the voice, it was before he returned back to his earth after being sent to the 1863rd regression.
The events of that round were still fresh in Kim Dokja’s mind, and they clearly weren’t going to leave anytime soon. He couldn’t help but think back again and again to the sight of the two Yoo Joonghyuk’s.
One, with a sword pierced through his heart, lying motionlessly on the ground. The other, disappearing right before his very eyes, so close, yet so far.
A phantom, which Kim Dokja couldn’t touch.
He’d be lying if he said that seeing his protagonist die didn’t shake him.
So when the tentacles of shimmering stars reached for him again, he didn’t have the energy to resist.
He had been intercepted by a smoky hand that grasped his arm, and pulled him into a void similar to the one from before.
This meeting was as unexpected, and yet expected, as the first. This time, he could see the faint silhouette of his surroundings. As if it was phasing in and out of existence. The thick fog that had encased him previously was slightly lifted now, allowing him to study the space around him more visibly this time.
Everything was a hazy outline.
This time, he could vaguely see the figure before him. The ghost that he had felt haunting him ever since he became a constellation.
Kim Dokja could never get rid of the feeling that predatory eyes were tracking him at all times.
[You’re here again.]
A low rumble that carried the power of the heavens.
“It’s not like I want to be.” Kim Dokja’s reply was instant as he scrutinized his environment once more.
It was no use. Though the smoke was lesser this time, it was still heavy enough that it covered mostly everything.
There was nothing for him to see.
[Hmm? What, you don’t like me?]
He turned his eyes back to the cloaked silhouette.
Was he imagining it, or was the voice teasing him slightly?
That shouldn’t be possible.
There were many things Kim Dokja expected this person to be.
Playful was not one of them.
“I can’t say it’s a pleasant experience to be kidnapped out of the blue.” He responded, eyebrow raised, crossing his arms and tapping the ground with one foot.
He looked expectantly at the foggy figure in front of him, squinting slightly to try to make out its features. He could faintly see a cloak covering its face.
Some part of him felt disappointed. The other part relieved.
He was afraid, perhaps, if he found out who this voice was, he wouldn’t be able to handle it.
The cloak fluttered as a tiny breeze whispered through the air. Blowing ever so slightly, he saw hints of the other person’s skin.
Though the breeze was light, it was cold enough that Kim Dokja could feel it brush against his neck, as if it were a hand wrapping itself around it.
He pushed back down a shiver and clenched his jaw.
For some reason, he was getting an ominous feeling from here. He couldn’t place the feeling, but this space was by far the most unsettling he’d ever been in before.
The other person seemed to find his discomfort amusing, and beneath the silvery veil, he could see the barest hint of a smug smile.
Then it asked him a sudden question.
[Don’t you want a break from the scenarios? From constantly fighting, constantly being on guard?]
Kim Dokja didn’t answer.
He only frowned, turning his head, and making it obvious that he wasn’t going to respond.
The voice continued on after his silence, undisturbed.
[Doesn’t it get tiring?]
Tiring.
Kim Dokja did his best not to flinch, a scowl forming on his face as he tried to hide his unsettled feelings.
It was bullshit. Naturally, the scenarios got tiring. After performing a story endlessly over and over, and over again, anyone would be worn with fatigue and exhaustion. It took a great physical toll to keep pushing onward, to keep fighting, to stand up and face the next challenge again and again.
But he had a feeling the voice wasn’t talking about his physical struggle.
Tiring.
Repeatedly doing scenario after scenario, it was inevitable that one would question the purpose of everything.
Why were you fighting?
Why did this keep continuing?
Will this ever end?
Will they ever reach the end?
Is it possible?
Will there ever be a time where it will all be over?
Those were the questions the subjects of the scenarios asked themselves. Incarnations and constellations alike. They were all part of the story, no matter how great or powerful they were.
And they all knew not all of them would make it to see the resolution.
Though Kim Dokja had a stronger mind than most others, even he wondered this at some point.
This toll on mentality and morale– it was possible for even him to succumb to it.
This constellation had poked at a crack in his mind. A weakness in his normal certainty that he had grown to sink into.
He decided to dodge the question.
“When will you show me your face?” He narrowed his eyes at the outline in front of him. “It’s unnerving, talking to someone you can’t see.”
[You talk to the constellations all the time. How am I different?]
The statement caught him off-guard. He was startled, for a moment.
The constellation sounded genuine when asking the question.
“You know how you’re different.” Kim Dokja looked up at the abyss above, closing his eyes.
Yes, this constellation was most certainly different.
An individual unlike any other, its existence was something greater than even the Star Stream itself. Out of every entity in the Star Stream, it was the furthest from a character.
[Am I really, though? Perhaps I’m just like you.] A faint murmur, flickering by his ear.
Kim Dokja let out a skeptical scoff.
The constellation had to be playing with him, making a joke like that.
“You’re nothing like me.”
The voice seemed displeased by that statement.
With a ‘ tch ’, it threw him out of the timeless haven once again, this time turning its back to him, not even sparing him a second glance.
His second visit didn’t last long either.
The third time the voice visited Kim Dokja, it was during his sleep.
Mind you, Kim Dokja was having a perfectly good sleep, thank you very much.
Until a certain someone decided to invade his mind.
He had resigned to the fact that their visits would most likely continue, whether he liked it or not.
Although he had thought the constellation would be upset with him after making such a comment earlier.
“You really seem intent on bothering me.” He muttered, sighing once again, as a vague silhouette formed in front of him.
The space around him was even clearer this time, and now he could slightly make out where he was.
A train car, painted with the deep, expansive universe. Dim lights flickered shakily above him, flashing rapidly to show the shape of a man across from him.
The figure was on the leaner side, not nearly as muscular as Kim Dokja expected him to be. With long, lanky legs and elegant hands, he didn’t resemble his incarnation at all.
It bewildered him, slightly, that the sponsor behind such a powerful protagonist was this thin.
It suited him, though, in Kim Dokja’s opinion. A delicate touch to match the rough and brittle exterior.
He was sitting, this time, opposite to the obscured constellation.
[Perhaps. After all, you are very easy to tease.] The voice remarked, mirth evident in its tone. All traces of dissatisfaction gone. [Or perhaps it’s you who wanted to see me.]
Kim Dokja snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.
“You think I want to be here?”
The constellation was flattering himself if he thought Kim Dokja wanted to see him. In fact, he wanted nothing to do with Yoo Joonghyuk’s sponsor.
The other being only snorted, a sound full of amusement, yet it held an underlying hint of danger within it.
[Don’t you want to know who I am?]
“Yes.” Kim Dokja admitted, crossing his legs, hands placed neatly on his lap. “I do. But it’d be easier if you’d just tell me.”
He scrunched his nose, giving the constellation a slight glare. If the constellation would just do that, Kim Dokja wouldn’t have to worry about him ever again.
The figure let out a small chuckle, its cloak rippling with the image of the stars as it laughed.
The echoing of stars in the night sky.
That’s what its laugh sounded like.
Kim Dokja blinked, surprised by the noise.
[Well, what would be the fun in that, then?]
Fun?
For a moment, the words failed to register in his brain, and he merely blinked for a moment.
But then Kim Dokja quickly recovered from his shock, his mouth twisting into a scowl.
“You think this is just some game?” He glowered at the figure before him, his eyes narrowing. “That your identity isn’t important to me? That I haven’t woken up for a reason?”
The silhouette tilted its head, and Kim Dokja swore he could see hints of its face through the veil covering its face.
Stygian eyes glinting with curiosity.
He continued, pressing further.
“Most Ancient Dream, I’m here not because I want to see you, but for my companion.”
It was a shot in the dark as to who the voice was, but Kim Dokja already knew he was correct.
After all, there were no other options to who it– no, he – could be. The aura this constellation radiated, it clearly portrayed an otherworldly status.
The ‘Most Ancient Dream’ faltered suddenly at his comment. Through the murky covering, Kim Dokja could see his dark orbs widen almost imperceptibly.
[Your companion? Yoo Joonghyuk?]
The constellation sounded wary for some reason. As if he was hiding something behind his smokey gaze.
Kim Dokja gave a reluctant nod, his eyes flickering around the carriage car, avoiding the stare of the person in front of him.
[My incarnation.]
“Yes.” He huffed, not even bothering to try to hide his resentment. “Your incarnation.”
[You seem angry with me.]
The constellation didn’t sound offended in the slightest. Though he had been surprised for a moment, he quickly recovered.
In fact, he spoke casually, as if he wasn’t bothered at all by the remark made.
“Of course I am.” Kim Dokja looked down at the floor. The ground seemed familiar, in a way. He thought he had seen it before.
In this space, this oasis between the passage of time, everything seemed so achingly familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. He didn’t know whether to stay alert, or whether he could relax for the first time. Was this a break from the scenarios, or a trap he could fall victim to if he wasn’t careful?
There seemed to be no reason to not speak his mind, though. It couldn’t hurt to say what he was thinking.
“You’re the reason he suffered so much.”
Kim Dokja felt like he was making a confession, one to the heavens, and to God.
[...]
“You never once tried to help him.”
It was one of the reasons why he never liked Yoo Joonghyuk’s sponsor in the first place.
Why make his incarnation suffer through the endless scenarios, over and over, and over again? Why put him through the agony, and trap him in time’s greedy hands?
Why did he never once try to assist Yoo Joonghyuk in any way?
Perhaps if he had, the protagonist could have suffered less.
[You care about him.]
Kim Dokja felt a wave of emotions wash over him,
drowning, lifting, breathing, suffocating.
“You care about him.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.
As if it were a known fact throughout the Star Stream.
Universal, not confined to the limitations of people’s opinions.
“He’s my companion.” Kim Dokja muttered, his voice barely above a hush. The words came out of his mouth almost reluctantly. “I couldn’t stop myself from caring even if I tried my hardest.”
That was a confession, one he never fully admitted to himself.
[Is he really just that to you?]
Skepticism was etched in the other constellation’s voice.
Kim Dokja furrowed his eyebrows, glancing up to look at the silhouette, who he could see had shifted his head to look out the window of the train, watching as the stars blinked in the sky, as if waving a friendly hello.
If he squinted, he could see the blurry outline of the constellation’s face.
Pale skin, as white as snow, and gentle features that felt like ocean waves brushing up against the beach’s shore. It looked ethereal and ephemeral, transcending this world, and transitory, like it would one day disappear.
[Just your companion?] The constellation turned back towards him, a strange expression pained behind the veil of stars. [Or something more?]
Kim Dokja didn’t answer.
He didn’t know how to answer.
It felt like everything he could have said was stuck in his throat, unable to form a single idea that he could express in a sentence. Like feathers were clotting his mind, preventing anything from arranging into a thought he could say.
It was unfamiliar, not knowing how to respond.
Then the ‘Most Ancient Dream’ spoke again.
The words that came out of his mouth were unexpected, with the first hints of real emotion he’d ever heard from the constellation before.
[Demon King of Salvation, have you ever thought that perhaps, I did care.]
He stiffened.
The temperature in the room rushed downwards, like the whistling of wind falling into the abyss of the sea.
“... what?”
[I did care, once.]
Kim Dokja could only stare at the constellation in front of him.
‘The Most Ancient Dream’. The most mysterious entity in all of the story.
[After all, I spent an eternity trying to reach the stars for him.]
The two locked eyes for a moment.
Silence overtook them.
Then eternity collapsed, and Kim Dokja was cast out once again.
The fourth visit came after the Great War of Saints and Demons.
His nebula had gone through so much, they had endured so much, and they had grown so much. Through the times of hardship and struggle, they prevailed, defying the orders of the story, and becoming something even greater than what anyone had ever expected.
They were becoming independent. Becoming more than just characters, but narrators who owned their own tale.
When Kim Dokja looked at them, he couldn’t help but feel proud.
They were his companions. And they could survive by themselves.
But exhaustion was wearing on his mind after the great battle, and although he wouldn’t like to admit it, he was weakened at this state.
Still, though, this time, Kim Dokja was prepared.
He had been anticipating their visit for a while now. And he had more questions when he was met with the faceless constellation once again.
Never had he ever thought that the ‘Most Ancient Dream’ was more than just a cruel god above. A spectator who enjoyed seeing his puppet suffer.
But he started to doubt himself for the first time. He started to peel off the layers of built hatred and discard them, replacing them with new ideas instead.
“Tell me.” Kim Dokja said, leaning back against the seat of the train car. “What happened to you?”
[What happened to me?]
It was like a routine at this point. The two of them would sit across from each other in silence for a moment, and then Kim Dokja would be forced to break it when he spoke. The other constellation never talked first. No, it was always him who had to start the conversation.
It was mildly aggravating.
Neither of them addressed why exactly he was brought into this space, and it was clear that it was going to stay that way.
“Yes, what happened to you.” Kim Dokja nodded, giving a pointed look at the other person. “How did you become a constellation?”
The ‘Most Ancient Dream’ seemed to be thinking for a moment.
Kim Dokja watched as the stars that had appeared on his cloak flickered in and out of existence. Like twinkling lights that were gleaming at him mischievously. Glinting with tales of time to tell.
Then the sponsor of Yoo Joonghyuk opened his mouth.
But this time, he didn’t use his constellation voice, the one that commanded reverence and respect. When he spoke, he spoke as if he were an earthly being.
It stunned Kim Dokja, for a moment.
“I once walked down the same path as you.”
His voice was like gravel, as old as time and worn down, like sandpaper that had been used one too many times. It felt uncannily similar to something he’d heard. For some reason, Kim Dokja thought the voice was familiar, yet different.
Just like the window of time he was encased in right now. Everything felt like a distant memory buried deep within the abyss of his mind, not yet forgotten, but not remembered.
But more than anything, the voice sounded tired. As if the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulders, and he had been carrying it for too long now.
“Like you, I once had companions.” When the ‘Most Ancient Dream’ spoke, it was like he was telling the tale of another person, although the story was his. It was as if he no longer acknowledged who he was in the past.
“People I used to rely on, and trust.”
Kim Dokja, for the first time, stopped to listen to the story of this constellation. He had always liked stories, after all.
This constellation, whose tale was unknown.
This constellation, who he’d always thought was nothing more than a side character.
This constellation, who he never once gave a glance to.
This constellation, who he only knew how to hate.
“Once upon a time, they were my everything.” The ‘Most Ancient Dream’ tilted his head up to face the heavens. “But in the end, it wasn’t my fate to be with them.”
The lone constellation slowly looked back down, and faced Kim Dokja’s gaze with one of regret.
Regret, remorse, and longing.
All of it was illustrated behind the cloak covering his story.
Though Kim Dokja couldn’t see his face, his emotions were as clear as day.
“Demon King of Salvation.” The voice like eroded rock spoke, stygian eyes and a wistful look.
If he really reached for it, it was like he could touch the constellation’s soul in front of him.
“Hell’s too cold for us to hate each other. More than you know, I am exactly like you.”
The fourth visit ended there, abruptly.
Cut off, before Kim Dokja could ever respond.
He didn’t get a chance to speak with the other constellation for a while.
No matter how hard he tried, he was never answered when he called out for his presence. He wanted to know more, what exactly the ‘Most Ancient Dream’ meant.
But it was clear that he had no intention of seeing him for a while.
If the constellation wanted to never speak to him again, who was he to protest?
And so Kim Dokja gave up, and stopped pressing for another visit. Although his curiosity hungered for more, he had no real reason to visit the sponsor again.
Until that is, when trouble pounced on him unexpectedly.
And he spiraled, panic and hysteria consuming him.
The fifth time Kim Dokja saw the ‘Most Ancient Dream’, it was a cry for help.
There were no other options, no other solutions he could seek. It was his last resort.
He had immediately knocked himself unconscious, to the startled confusion of his party members, and frantically scrambled in his mind for the voice he had been hearing for so long now.
A silent scream, a silent plea, a silent chant.
Never did Kim Dokja think that he’d be begging to see this constellation.
Normally, he wasn’t one to beg in the first place. But he would sacrifice his pride and dignity for this if he had to.
This wasn’t a light matter, and at the moment, he was desperate.
He would grovel, if necessary. If it meant the sponsor of the protagonist he’d cared about for the entirety of the scenarios would answer him.
And answer him he did.
[You’re back.]
There it was again.
The ‘Most Ancient Dream’s true voice.
He had stopped speaking in his time-worn one, and instead replaced it with one that stretched a distance between them.
By this, he was saying, “Know where you stand before me. I showed you myself once, not again.”
Kim Dokja couldn’t care less, though. Not in this moment, not in this time. Not when his companion was on the brink of destruction.
More than ever, he needed the sponsor now.
Even if the constellation felt uncomfortable, or wary. The matter was urgent.
And the puppetmaster knew it.
“Most Ancient Dream.” He took a deep breath, and willed himself to stare at the entity in the eye. “Help me.”
Perhaps that wasn’t the best approach to plead for assistance from an omnipotent being.
(He could have asked more eloquently, with more reverence too, but that wasn’t on his mind at the moment.)
(But it certainly should have been.)
[Shouldn’t you speak with more respect?] The sponsor’s tone was as cold as ice, and Kim Dokja could instantly see how Yoo Joonghyuk was his incarnation.
A condescending gaze that demanded absolute fear. One that held experience beyond imagination.
[After all, my status is far greater than yours.]
Kim Dokja was well aware of this. In fact, he was so aware that not even ‘The Fourth Wall’ could stop himself from trembling slightly.
Although, ‘The Fourth Wall’ didn’t work in this space and time.
(He had tried, before, to activate it, but it seemed that the sponsor was displeased by his attempt and immediately shut off his skill.
He hadn’t tried to use the wall again after that.)
This was the person he had resented for so long. This was the being he had hated, cursed at, and despised for ten years of his life, alongside the protagonist he felt so strongly for.
He had always blamed this constellation for Yoo Joonghyuk’s suffering. Never once had he stopped to think if the sponsor himself was in pain as well.
Now, the feelings he felt strayed farther away from hatred and closer to understanding.
The words ‘The Most Ancient Dream’ said never stopped ringing in his head.
“Hell’s too cold for us to hate each other. More than you know, I am exactly like you.”
At first, he was skeptical. He had disregarded the statement, snorted, and shook his head with doubt.
But the more he thought about it, the more he reminisced about his journey, and contemplated the story. The tale of the Star Stream, one that was old, and beyond the concept of time itself, and the understanding of ordinary beings.
He had to admit, perhaps ‘The Most Ancient Dream’ knew more than him.
He was certainly stronger. Considering he had an eternity’s worth of stories to tell.
If Yoo Joonghyuk had regressed 1863 times, the ‘Most Ancient Dream’ had witnessed them all.
That’s why Kim Dokja needed his help now.
“Your incarnation.” He made sure his voice was steady, straightening himself so he could look at the constellation directly. “He’s in danger.”
[So he is.] There was indifference when the ‘Most Ancient Dream’ spoke, but Kim Dokja decided to look past the wall that was put up between them.
Behind the veil that hid the sponsor’s emotions and feelings, piercing through the layers of endless time and space, he stopped to listen to the silent story that was longing to be read.
For the sake of his protagonist, and his companion.
For the sake of his incarnation, whom he had watched over for so long.
“I know you care.”
[Do I?]
“You do.” Kim Dokja jutted his chin upwards, facing the wall ahead of him with audacious confidence.
[And how do you know that, oh-so all knowing ‘Demon King of Salvation’?] A voice filled with hidden spite, unknown if one didn’t look close enough.
“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have that look in your eye when you talk about him.” Kim Dokja let out a light laugh, ignoring the constellation’s disguised hostile tone. “At the very least, you have some feelings for your incarnation.”
[...]
The ‘Most Ancient Dream’ huffed with amusement, and if his eyes weren’t deceiving him, Kim Dokja thought he could see the barest hint of a smile on his face.
Every time they saw each other, it seemed the veil thinned a bit more.
Every time Kim Dokja sat across from the once unreachable constellation, he thought he understood him just a little more.
Even if it was only by the tiniest fraction.
[Cut to the chase. How do you want me to help?]
It seemed the constellation was resigned to his fate. No longer delaying, he seemed to accept the fact that he would, whether he liked it or not, have to help.
Kim Dokja grinned. This time, he, too, spoke in his true voice.
[‘Most Ancient Dream’, incarnate into the scenarios.]
A moment of silence lapsed over the two.
It was an empty silence, one that held no thought or feeling. Perhaps he had stunned the other constellation into stillness.
Then the ‘Most Ancient Dream’ guffawed. Leaning back into his seat, he seemed to be shaking with laughter.
[You want me to incarnate into the scenarios? Are you a fool? Don’t you know the effects that would create?]
Kim Dokja’s grin didn’t fall off his face. “I know. You’re much stronger than any other constellation out there, aren’t you? Strong enough that you can even evade the Star Stream’s eye.”
It was one of the things that he had figured out about the ‘Most Ancient Dream’; he had to be one of the most powerful beings in the Star Stream. After all, with an incarnation like Yoo Joonghyuk, it wasn’t possible that he was weak at all.
[And yet you still ask me. Don’t you know, probability won’t allow for that?]
“Is probability the problem then?” Kim Dokja raised an eyebrow questioningly in the direction of the other constellation. “Do you not have enough to help?”
Probability was another matter to consider. If the ‘Most Ancient Dream’ really was powerful, the Dokkaebi Bureau wouldn’t allow for someone of his status to enter the scenarios.
[Not just that. The Star Stream won’t allow for a presence as strong as mine in the scenarios.]
It was true, after all. But the ‘Most Ancient Dream’ wasn’t like other constellations.
More than anyone else, he was a “singularity”.
“Oh?” A smirk danced on Kim Dokja’s lips. “So are you telling me someone like you is bound to the confines of the Star Stream?”
If there was any talent Kim Dokja had, it would be his uncanny ability to get under people’s skin. Or at the very least, taunt and mock them to the point of extreme annoyance. Whether or not this constellation was an exception, he would have to find out.
[I’ll admit, you are a bold constellation, demon king.] The other constellation didn’t seem fazed by his remark. [To know my power and to still speak to me with such disrespect? You have nerve.]
But Kim Dokja already knew from the start, that he had won.
The ‘Most Ancient Dream’ hummed, tapping a slender figure on his knee. Leaning forward, he propped his chin on one of his hands. In this moment, he seemed less like a menacing power and more like a businessman. With a sly glint in his eye shining through the hazy disguise.
He already knew he had the constellation caught.
[Tell me, demon king, what benefits will I get out of helping you?]
Kim Dokja laughed, the answer already on the tip of his tongue.
The fish had fallen for the bait.
“Most Ancient Dream, don’t you miss the story?”
The said constellation he was talking to looked intrigued, from the way he tilted his head to the side.
[Elaborate.]
Stygian eyes met ones of equal obsidian.
One weathered with the toll of perpetuity, the other still glimmering with life and excitement.
“Don’t you miss the thrill, the excitement of the scenarios?”
Stars glittered in the backdrop.
“Don't you miss the feeling of fighting side by side with people you want to protect?”
Yet there was no one watching them.
“Don’t you want to remember how it feels? To be part of the story?”
It was just the two of them, alone, staring opposite to each other as the universe whistled by outside.
The fog had turned into mere mist now, though its tentacles still wound around both of them, creating the illusion that they were only apparitions. As if they weren’t really there. As if they were ghosts looking at each other through a mirror.
Kim Dokja could recognize where they were now.
It was Carriage #3807. The place where his own story had begun. Whether this window of time was an illusion or not, it still held meaning in his heart.
[To be a part of the story… I like the sound of that.]
Suddenly, the blanket enveloping the sponsor changed.
At first, it shifted slightly.
The veil covering the ‘Most Ancient Dream’s face was becoming clearer and clearer by second, transparent enough that he could see the nostalgic smile that had started to slowly spread across the constellation’s face.
Kim Dokja felt a strange feeling to start to stir within his mind. The face he was staring at oddly resembled someone he knew. Though the wall had thinned further, there was still a thickness to it so that he couldn’t quite exactly distinguish the features of the other constellation.
But he saw enough to know that the ‘Most Ancient Dream’ was amused.
[Alright, then.]
No, not amused.
[As you put it, ‘Demon King of Salvation’, I’ll join the story once again.]
Excited.
It was an expression that showed enthrallment, an expression that showed exhilaration, as if life had bloomed within it once again.
The look on the ‘Most Ancient Dream’s face was still cold, but it had thawed ever so slightly, as if the sun had dawned its blessing on it as it had before.
[You need my help saving your ever, so dear companion, correct?]
The constellation, who had been tucked between the darkness for so long now,
[Your companion, my incarnation.]
was coming out into the light again.
[Yoo Joonghyuk, that idiot…]
A smirk was illustrated across the ‘Most Ancient Dream’s face. And it was mirrored across Kim Dokja’s as well.
[Let’s go save him, shall we?]