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It’s an unfortunate scenario penalty. Really, what twisted brain in the Star Stream thought “ah yes, the entertaining penalty to see for this scenario challenge is someone up to their ears in snot”? Well, maybe for a fluffy sick episode in which the audience gets to watch the by-now battle-hardened incarnation be taken care of by their companions. Except that will not be the case here.
Kim Dokja is one: alone and two: not going to make such an unnecessary mess.
[K im Dokj a is stu pid.]
You see, Kim Dokja will fall into a deep fever in three hours. Which is. Fine. He guesses.
How many years has it been since he’d been sick? Kim Dokja had invested the coins into his immunity and such the moment he had coins to spare. Being sick when you’re alone in this wide world is terribly lonely. Especially now that it’s so desolate.
All being sick ever was to him was a miserable reminder that makes you crawl under bedsheets and take pills to pretend it isn’t there until you’re unable to move. Cold, cold, cold under too-hot skin and a stabbing pain to the head. Spinning darkness as your vision implodes and all you want is your mother to hold your hand and whisper stories in your ears the way she sometimes does when father is away—
Ah. But she’s a million miles away locked-tight behind bars and a locked-tight expression and that stupid, cursed book and a bloody knife clattering on the floor—
Stop.
Anyways.
Kim Dokja doesn’t like being sick. It just reminds him about what he cannot have.
[The Constellation Queen of the Darkest Spring is asking what the penalty will be!]
“Ah, it’s a minor penalty. It’s just going to be uncomfortable, put me out of commission for a few days and I’ll be back to normal,” he says with a smile.
Really, what is he thinking? In the grand scheme of things, is this not minor? He’d rather be miserable for two or three days than have to die again or deal with something that’s actually harmful to the group. His emotions are worthless in the face of goals, and emotions have always been too dramatic and awkward to express. Nobody actually cares enough about such things so it’s awkward to give and to accept.
[The Constellation Prisoner of the Golden Headband is calling bullshit!]
[The Constellation Demonic Judge of Fire is expressing concern for you!]
Concern? Kim Dokja rolls the word in his mouth. It’s not something he’s unfamiliar with.
Concern was the word that kids used when they dumped cold water on him to wash the crazy out of his head. Concern was the word reporters used to pry out their next headlines when they cornered him in the hallways. Concern was the basic emotion the adults of the world let themselves feel and not act on as Kim Dokja dragged ever downwards, wings waterlogged in a crowded sky and destined to crash. Concern is a self-soothing consolation for the people who feel it.
Concern. What even does that word mean?
So Kim Dokja pastes on a smile, and it tastes like plastic and fake sugar on his face.
“Really! I’ll be fine!”
[Several constellations would like Constellation Demon King of Salvation to know that they are raising unimpressed eyebrows!]
Okay. Rude.
“It’s just human illness,” he laughs.
[The Constellation Demonic Judge of Fire is frantically asking what kind of illness because humans die from those!]
[The Constellation Demonic Judge of Fire is demanding to know if it’s bubonic plague or consumption or—]
“A cold! Symptoms without cause!” Kim Dokja yelps. “Do you have no faith when I say I’ll be fine?!”
[The Constellation Secretive Plotter is flatly saying yes!]
[The Constellation Secretive Plotter says to buy some medicine!]
[1000 coins have been sponsored!]
“T- this isn’t necessary,” he says, flabbergasted. What does he even do with this? What do they want him to do with this? It’s not like there’s anything to actually treat and he has his own money so why—
What are they trying to say here?
[The Constellation Demonic Judge of Fire and that’s for them to decide!]
[The Constellation Demonic Judge of Fire says to use this for taking care of yourself!]
[777 coins have been sponsored!]
“I have money,” he protests.
He doesn’t get it, really. What are they trying to accomplish by throwing money at him and telling him to buy medicines that can’t even combat a penalty? Perhaps it’s a gesture of understanding, simple words of consolation to the loneliness of being sick. Kim Dokja isn’t going to pretend to understand it, but he’ll grant them that.
[The Constellation Father of the Rich Night says to accept their care!]
[5000 coins have been sponsored!]
Never mind, they’re being ridiculous. While he’s not turning down money, ever, what does he need money for when the fever is going to be fake? He’s just going to deal with some symptoms and be fine. Do they want him to do something for them after this?
“This is too much!”
“Why are you standing there arguing with the constellations, punk?”
A familiar sharp voice draws his attention to a woman making her way up the hill behind him.
“Ah, Han Sooyoung.”
Surely she’d see how ridiculous everyone is being. She’s pragmatic and Kim Dokja’s always appreciated that about her.
“So? What’s the deal?”
“They’re freaking out about a minor scenario penalty,” Kim Dokja waves a hand breezily.
[The Constellation Demonic Judge of Fire is vehemently protesting!]
[The Constellation Secretive Plotter says that Constellation Demon King of Salvation is going to get sick!]
Han Sooyoung fixes him with a lethal glare that makes Kim Dokja flinch. What’s with the look? He’s not lying! In the grand scheme of this world this is minuscule!
She’s scowling at him, eyes scanning for some visible sign of infection.
Oh. Right.
Why did he forget that she’ll disagree with him on principle?!
“And how is that minor?” Her voice is silky in a dangerous way and Kim Dokja doesn’t like that.
“Because it’ll be the equivalent of a cold. In fact, I won’t actually have any illness at all but the symptoms of it,” he flatly waves away any sort of— Han Sooyoung stabs a finger in his chest, glaring hotly.
“Hah, and how do I know you’re not just saying that? You’re probably about to get the plague or something,” she snaps.
[The Constellation Demonic Judge of Fire is panicking!]
[The Constellation Demonic Judge of Fire says to buy out the whole dokkaebi shop!]
[1500 coins have been sponsored!]
[The Constellation Secretive Plotter demands that you take care of your body!]
[10000 coins have been sponsored!]
Kim Dokja is barely paying attention to the screens at the moment, caught in a thought like a snag on a doorknob. It’s a little weird for this to come from that plagiarist dirtbag author.
[The Constellation Prisoner of the Golden Headband is pleading with you to take plagues seriously!]
[2000 coins have been sponsored!]
[The Constellation Father of the Rich Night is asking around for miracle doctors!]
[The Constellation Demonic Judge of Fire is scouring Eden for a cure!]
She usually doesn’t get too heated about things like this involving other people. Why is she so worked up like this? Is she under a penalty? Did she just see something that’s got her emotional about something else and this is an outlet?
[DOKKAEBI SYSTEM REMINDER: Probability is required to interfere with scenarios and penalties! Beloved constellations, please spend probability before attempting to interfere with the event!]
That’s likely. What had she said she’d been doing today? None of the hidden scenarios he’d told her about had such a penalty or emotional impact. Did she get a personal one? A hidden one he hadn’t seen in the novel?
[The Constellation Demonic Judge of Fire is telling the SYSTEM REMINDER to go ◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️◼️!]
Such hidden scenarios are uncommon but he’s seen a couple. It’s possible to trigger them by going against the system every so often. But why give Han Sooyoung a scenario with that kind of toll when the rest of the group isn’t going to be back together for another day or two? Were they hoping for a romance interest with some other nearby incarnation? Because Han Sooyoung would curse them out to no end. Hm. Is this even worth being worried about? If she’d failed her scenario she’d probably be swearing up a storm about how he didn’t tell her, so she’s probably got something decent out of it.
[The Constellation Abyssal Black Flame Dragon is asking what he missed!]
[The Constellation Abyssal Black Flame Dragon spits out his drink!]
But really, whatever it is that’s causing her to act like this, Kim Dokja is a gold-certified punching bag with three whole decades of experience, a bona fide expert, he can take it. In fact, he won’t even mind it because it’s her.
But he’s not just going to admit that. That’s too vulnerable and mushy for either of them to bear.
[The Constellation Secretive Plotter is demanding that you use your damn information and find a cure!]
Oh yeah. Maybe that’s a fire he should put out. (Also, what’s got that guy who wasn’t even in WOS so concerned? A later problem. He’ll have to figure that out afterwards.)
But Han Sooyoung’s still glaring at him like she’ll shank him if he answers incorrectly. Honestly it’s fair game with her. So Kim Dokja responds as reasonably as he can.
“You think I’ve got the plague?! Then stay away from me!” He turns to the blue screens. “I assure you, I’m going to be fine. It’s supposed to be symptoms for a few days and then I’m done. There won’t even be an actual infection.”
Han Sooyoung sneers, getting between him and the sudden barrage from Uriel, Persephone, and… Secretive Plotter? What’s his deal? Kim Dokja mutes them and faces the actual threat.
“You think I’m letting your lemming ass alone while you’re sick? Get the fuck over here,” she says.
If he actually had a contagious disease he would do no such thing. But he’s just going to get symptoms without an underlying condition so it’ll be fine, he thinks. Besides, he gets the terrifying feeling that there will be consequences if he doesn’t do what she wants at the moment. So he lets her grab his wrist with her small hands, her grip too tight. It’d take a fight to get out of that grip, and it’s not worth it. So he follows obediently enough for now.
Her movements are brusque. Not quite clinical, but sharp. She tugs him to the complex and nearly throws him into a bed, muttering a quiet string of obscenities that Kim Dokja doesn’t really want to answer to. Somehow, Kim Dokja cannot summon the willpower to stop her, his mind nearly out of his body. He simply watches her move. There’s something about it that he’d call harsh, not dissimilar to the sneers of aunts and uncles who told him to stop faking illness and making them look bad.
But it’s different. They wouldn’t throw blankets at his head and yell at him to get out of his armor because sleeping in it would be uncomfortable. They wouldn’t glance at him every moment out of the corners of their eyes to make sure he’s okay. They wouldn’t dim the lights and adjust the room temperature.
It’s not the care he’s used to. But it’s the same kind of care he’d imagine of a teammate. He’s never had a friend to care about such things. But surely… surely this is what it would feel like, right?
[Exclusive Skill Fourth Wall is thinning due to the scenario penalty!]
“You— hey, Kim Dokja?!”
There are tears tracing the sides of his face. Nobody has even made the effort to see if he was still breathing in… in how long? Nobody has ever bothered to care about him in the miserable, dragging, lonely years the last half of his life had been.
How embarrassing that it’s Han Sooyoung. She’s going to lord this over him later.
(A small, weak burning part of him in his chest wonders if he wouldn’t mind that. It’s better than being alone.)
“Ah,” he murmurs.
How long… really, this penalty is doing things to him that he hasn’t in years. How long has it been since he’s dared to cry? Stupid illness and stupid vulnerability that’s hard to cover once it’s exposed.
He finds his head getting pressed into a chest. Han Sooyoung’s heart beats slowly and steadily.
“I know. It’s the penalty. I won’t look,” she says, voice suddenly hoarse.
Kim Dokja doesn’t even have the grace to squirm away, as she valiantly ignores the growing wet patch on her shoulder.
[The Constellation Demonic Judge of Fire is weeping!]
[500 coins have been sponsored!]
When did he even turn that back on?
Like a sun rising on time, the fever starts to crawl up his throat in an hour, and he’s trying so hard not to think about it.
“Take this,” Han Sooyoung demands, forcing some very large teal pills into his hand. “The others will be back soon.”
“Okay,” he says, too helpless to guard against wanting someone to take care of him. How pathetic of him, really.
He feels a hand on his forehead as his heavy eyes force themselves shut and the world fades into a buzz at the base of his skull.
He wakes up a few times, to the bizarre hallucinations of his companions by his bedside. But surely there’d be no reason for that, he thinks.
He wakes up and the lights outside are dark, the air in his room cool. He’s sticky with sweat, which is not fun.
The door opens and Yoo Joonghyuk stands there with a bowl in hands.
“Good,” he says. “I was going to wake you.”
“What are you doing here?” Kim Dokja asks like it’s not obvious. Yoo Joonghyuk is holding a bowl and Kim Dokja doesn’t know how to acknowledge that it’s for him. Such a bitter pill to swallow. That he’s been so lonely his entire life. So lonely in this world and now, facing someone who claims to care for him, he doesn’t know what to do with it.
“What do you think I’m here for? Fool.”
Kim Dokja swallows hard, throat itching, feeling Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes trace every atom of distance his skin moves. It unnerves him, prey before the gleaming teeth of a snake. Why is he doing this?
“Eat.”
“Ah?”
“Eat,” Yoo Joonghyuk repeats, voice low. Kim Dokja’s headache appreciates it. It’s soup. Actual samgyetang. Where did Yoo Joonghyuk even get chicken or such nice ginseng?
The steam of it tickles his eyes. Or are they prickling with too many emotions for him to swallow down in his weakened state?
His mother could never afford such nice things for him; his father never wanted to spend on it. And after. Well nobody in this world liked him enough for that. This is the first time he’s been… he has never in all the years of his life eaten samgyetang because he’s sick, because someone actually went out of their way to make it for him. What a stupid consolation prize, getting it now when it doesn’t even matter anyways. What a sincere burn in his lungs, that someone has gone out and done it regardless.
Ah. What useless thoughts, he laughs weakly.
“Kim Dokja.” A question as a statement, how typical. It’s funny, how many sick days did he bury himself under covers and try to numb anything with Yoo Joonghyuk? And here he is. Taking care of him now that the world has twisted itself inside out.
Kim Dokja’s stomach twists.
“I-“
And he chokes on a spoonful of soup. It’s unfairly delicious. From what he can taste. Yoo Joonghyuk fills the spoon again and holds it out.
“I can feed myself,” Kim Dokja tries. He holds out a hand for the spoon, but Yoo Joonghyuk firmly keeps it extended. And honestly, Kim Dokja’s too tired to fight him on it. And Yoo Joonghyuk seems far too bizarrely eager about this. Kim Dokja just concedes at this point. Easier than choking on the jujube daintily perched on the spoon.
[The Constellation Demonic Judge of Fire is shrieking!]
[500 coins have been sponsored!]
[The Constellation Secretive Plotter is disgusted!]
[The Constellation Abyssal Black Flame Dragon says there should be more fighting!]
“He’s sick, asshole,” Yoo Joonghyuk snarls. It’s so protective. Is he pretending that Kim Dokja is his sister? Some sort of weird role play wish fulfillment of what normal life must have been before the scenarios?
“I’m not Yoo Mia,” Kim Dokja reminds him.
“What.”
“I’m not Yoo Mia,” Kim Dokja repeats. Yoo Joonghyuk squints at him.
“What the fuck.”
Yoo Joonghyuk just picks the spoon back up.
“Eat. And then go back to bed. You’re delirious.”
“Ah… okay,” Kim Dokja mumbles, obediently opening his mouth for the spoon. Yoo Joonghyuk looks at him through the edge of the fan of his lashes. And he smiles, a tiny thing.
Frankly, Kim Dokja is half-convinced that this entire conversation is a fever hallucination.
[The Constellation Demonic Judge of Fire has simply passed away!]
“Yikes,” Kim Dokja mumbles around the spoon. Yoo Joonghyuk snorts, forcing more chicken into his mouth. Kim Dokja chews quietly, waiting for whatever the regressor is here for. Eventually Uriel and Secretive Plotter get into an argument over… something, and Kim Dokja swats away the notifications, muting them.
“You…” Yoo Joonghyuk mutters quietly. “You’re so quiet like this.”
“I’m literally sick,” Kim Dokja grumbles.
“Lee Seolhwa said it’s a status ailment. You shouldn’t have any lasting effects,” Yoo Joonghyuk continues like Kim Dokja hadn’t spoken.
“I know. Everyone’s making a fuss over nothing,” Kim Dokja sighs.
Yoo Joonghyuk looks at him funny.
“The kids were excited. Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung fought over bringing you soup,” Yoo Joonghyuk says pointedly, like a retort. Like he’s trying to argue when there’s no argument here. (Wait, if the kids fought to do it, why is Yoo Joonghyuk bothering to be here? His head hurts too much to follow that thread of thought so he drops it.) “Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung raided at least six pharmacies.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t let us take care of you often,” Yoo Joonghyuk says quietly. Kim Dokja buries his head under the covers. His face is flushed. It’s probably the fever.
“Come on, keep eating,” Yoo Joonghyuk coaxes.
“Hyung-“
“Ahjussi-“
Two children crash into the room. One holding a little brown glass bottle and the other a little green one. Kim Dokja’s head throbs at the sound of raised voices. But they’re so earnest, standing there. Perhaps they’re enjoying the normalcy, the break that it brings.
“What are you two doing,” Kim Dokja laughs before it breaks into a choking cough.
“Hyung!”
“Ahjussi!”
“What did you bring,” Yoo Joonghyuk questions gently but firmly.
“Oh! Seolhwa noona gave us this! It’s for hyung’s throat!”
“Thank you,” Kim Dokja says quietly, taking it. The children preen and leap onto the bed.
“Ahjumma said that you’re not contagious!” Shin Yoosung chirps, nuzzling into Kim Dokja’s chest. It’s so… unnatural, to him. People coming in, fighting to see him. Especially now that he’s weak and useless to anyone in the middle of this hellscape world focused on survival. He has no value to give right now. And he’d already give them everything, so there’s no reason to try to put him in their debt. So what is this for?
“I’m all sweaty,” he tries. The children look up at him like he’d said the dumbest thing possible. Shin Yoosung wraps herself around his (uncomfortably hot, but he’s not going to complain to her) torso like a retort.
“So?”
Kim Dokja fidgets. What is he supposed to say? What does he do to take the eyes off of him? He doesn’t know how to breathe under so many stares. Not when such things have always promised worse aftermaths.
“Get off of him so I can feed him,” Yoo Joonghyuk demands. Kim Dokja watches the kids glare at the regressor with sleepy eyes.
“Hah! Stop trying to flirt with hyung, sooty bastard!”
“Wait you two,” Lee Jihye crashes into the room, clearly having been trying to find them. “Oh! Squid Ahjussi you’re— up?!”
Kim Dokja squints at her, the raised voice making his ears ring.
“Yes?”
“You- your face… never mind,” she mutters. The door opens with Lee Hyunsung and Jung Heewon peeking in, curious.
“Oh hey, your face is visible,” she says. “You’re not ugly at all. How are you feeling?”
“Thank… you?”
“Anyway, I’ve got you ginger ale,” Lee Hyunsung laughs awkwardly, handing it to him. See, Joonghyuk-ah? Kim Dokja’s got fully functional hands. “My unit liked it a lot.”
He remembers getting sick once in the army. That time wasn’t quite so bad. The nurses in the infirmary were far nicer than the ones in the hospital. And it wasn’t as lonely. But it was still quiet with hours dragging themselves forwards by their tongue. He sips the cold drink quietly, watching the others in the room. Han Sooyoung hasn’t reappeared but the novel on his bedside with the lemon lollipop bookmark is pretty telling. Not that his eyes would cooperate for any kind of reading right now.
Yoo Joonghyuk forces more soup in his mouth. Kim Dokja swallows it. He idly wonders if this is what webnovel characters and equally fictional “happy people” feel like when they’re sick.
”Hey, squid ahjussi. We figured out how to hook up a television,” Lee Jihye says, squeezing his shoulder gently. “That means it’s movie time!”
What? Well it’s nice that they’re bonding. But why are they telling him this when he’s sick in bed? Is she teasing him for coins? His head is throbbing too much to deal with those blue message windows right now, so he can’t tell.
”He shouldn’t be watching screens when he’s sick,” another voice joins the crowded room. “It’s good to see that you’re up, Dokja-ssi.”
His room is not big enough to accommodate this. But even if he’s hot enough to melt right now, he finds that he doesn’t mind that it’s full to the point of being stuffy. There has never been a crowd he’s liked to be in until now.
”Hello, Sangah-ssi, Seolhwa-ssi,” he greets with the closest approximation of a bow he can manage. Yoo Sangah tuts.
”Stop worrying about that. Have you eate- oh.” She stops when she notices this bowl in an increasingly exasperated Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands. She has to physically cover a smirk. Which. Okay.
He’s sure Uriel’s excited too, for whatever reason she seems to be whenever he’s in a meter radius of Yoo Joonghyuk.
”Not one to delay illness recovery and honestly nobody needs to encourage this dumbass to make bad choices, but this is totally an excuse to do team bonding. It’s been so long. And he can’t escape our couch cuddles,” Jung Heewon laughs. Lee Seolhwa pauses and Yoo Sangah looks like she’s immediately switched sides.
Kim Dokja squints at her. How on earth is that an argument at all? Are they hoping to get some information out of him? He’d tell them most things, he thinks. He’s almost afraid of letting it slip out of his mouth, the sudden swelling of affection in his throat. These people have, whether they started as his saviors through years and years of parallel pain or become his companions as the world reverse-isekaied itself like a bad attempt to subvert a trope, have become the closest connection he can approximate to family. And they’re here now like a bad novel extra fighting over who gets to hand him a pill he’s going to take himself. He’s not exactly sure why but frankly he’s not capable of the 4-D chess that dealing with people requires right now.
Illness was always a reminder of how the world around him was so empty it echoed. It was always a mark of how nobody in this world cared for him. It’s so abnormal for Kim Dokja to be sick and not alone. It’s so abnormal for Kim Dokja to be not alone. It’s one of the most difficult to swallow and roll with moments of this entire damn apocalypse, actually? Kim Dokja thinks he’ll have a mental breakdown or three when this is over.
[Ki m Dok j a is a foo l.]
Shut up, wall.