Chapter Text
Kim Dokja felt like his eyeballs were melting in their sockets as he stared up at his ceiling. His skin felt heavy on his face, and his tongue sat unpleasantly dry in his mouth, like he could feel the whiteness that coated his tongue from how dehydrated he must have been.
Dragging his heavy limbs off of his bed, Kim Dokja let himself go on autopilot as he got ready for class.
Bloodshot eyes stared back at him as he mindlessly brushed his teeth. Kim Dokja could feel it under his skin and in that hollow feeling in his chest that the sleep deprivation carves beneath his sternum—the lack of proper rest was getting to him. With a mild sigh, he washed his face, splashing his skin with cold water a few extra times in a frivolous attempt to wake himself up. Its effects lasted a solid 2 seconds before the exhaustion continued to ooze out of every square inch of his tired bones.
His morning lectures passed by in a blur, his notes mindless scribbles of vocab and half-accurate quotes, and it was already 12:15 by the time his brain decided to give any semblance of awareness. Awareness that came from a certain familiarly high-pitched voice pounding into his ears.
“Hey, you bastard, why do you look like you just crawled out of satan’s asshole? I’m tryna show you my drafts right now,” Han Sooyoung reprimanded, tapping his forehead with a scone, dropping crumbs onto the keyboard of the laptop between them.
“Don’t do that Sooyoung, your keyboard is nasty enough as it is,” Kim Dokja said with a judgey tone, pushing her hand away from his face. Vision now cleared of blueberry scone, he was met with a familiar scowl.
“My keyboard is perfectly fine,” she argued, even though it was most definitely not, being a gallery of finger prints and mysterious crumbs, “Why do you look so mopey anyway, like seriously you look like you’re gonna blow away if I breathe too hard.” She said, taking a bite of her scone. Dokja let out a tired sigh, stretching his arms above him before leaning back in his chair more, readjusting to get more comfortable.
“I’m fine, just sleep deprived—the usual.” He said, relaying the same thing Han Sooyoung has heard at least one-hundred times from the man before.
“No surprise there,” Another bite of scone. “I will never understand why you took that damn night shift, you haven't gone a day without those nasty dark circles under your eyes since you started there.”
“Ok, rude, my face isn’t nasty, plenty of people have dark circles.”
“Yeah, but yours are bad, like ‘Russian Sleep Experiment’ bad.”
“You and I both know I need the money. No night shift means less hours, and less hours,” He sighed, reaching for his nearly empty plain black coffee that he had practically downed immediately after getting it, “Means no rent. If I have to downsize my apartment one more time, I might as well move into a shed.” He said with a sip.
“That bummy place you call an apartment is basically a shed.” Han Sooyoung scoffed. Kim Dokja just stared at her with exasperation. “Point taken, you need the hours.”
Kim Dokja simply sighed, head lolling to the side as he gazed out the cafe window next to them.
“Yeah, I do.”
Their weekly coffee hangout wrapped in a comfortably quiet way, Kim Dokja felt a bit bad since his tiredness meant that his comments were lackluster and his motivation to make them even less so, but he knew Han Sooyoung understood, after all, she had had her fair share of tired days after staying up to unfathomable hours meeting writing deadlines and updates. It was around 2:24 when Dokja stepped into his apartment building, and 2:24:15 when his quiet was broken, and his body was tackled to the ground by two scarlet strong 12-year-olds.
“Ajusshi!”
“Hyung!”
The three of them hung out in Shin Yoossung’s apartment for a bit, the kids bickering over what would win in a fight, a sea slug or a male angler fish, while Kim Dokja prepared snacks. After a small trip to a nearby park, Shin Yoosung’s mom had come home from work, and the kids bid their reluctant goodbyes. As usual, the girl’s mother, Ms. Park, offered to pay Kim Dokja for watching the kids, and as usual, he politely declined. Now alone in his apartment, the quiet emptiness echoing around him, Kim Dokja pulled out his laptop and notes, mindlessly going through his assignments until his phone alarm went off, reminding him to eat dinner.
A few hours passed, Kim Dokja ate cup noodles as he hunched over his laptop, some show he didn’t know the name of droning on in the background, he showered and changed into fresh clothes—a dark gray hoodie and baggy jeans, simple but comfortable—before finally getting to plop down on the couch and read the most recent updates of some ongoing webnovels.
Before he knew it, his phone went off again, and Kim Dokja dragged himself to the subway.
“Just give me the damn cigarettes!" He shouted, spit from his yellowing teeth hitting Kim Dokja’s cheek as he waved a stubby finger in the man’s face. “I'm not even 1500 Won off!”
Kim Dokja stared deadpan at the slob of a man in front of him, whose receding hairline and overgrown stubble insisted on pushing itself all up in Kim Dokja’s face from across the counter. Was this guy actually mad that he couldn’t afford a pack of cigarettes? It’s not Kim Dokja’s fault he’s dead broke.
“Sir, I cannot sell it to you if you do not pay the listed price.” Kim Dokja said for the Nth time, wiping his cheek with his sleeve.
“Oh please, it’s not like——” Kim Dokja gazed at the clock at the far end of the store while the man rambled on. He still has 3 more hours before the end of his shift. God, how much longer was this guy going to talk?
“Just saying a whole lot of nothing,” he thought to himself as he glanced back at the man, who was still talking, seemingly unaware that Kim Dokja hadn't been listening to a word he said. Now, just staring at the man with a blank expression, half zoned out and allowing his thoughts to drift to more productive things—like TWSA’s most recent chapter—Kim Dokja hears the high-pitched chime of the door’s bell, breaking through the droning noise of the old man’s voice and pulling him back to reality.
“Hello, welcome in–” The words came out automatically, but cut off almost instantly once he saw a familiar masked face walk in, strong brow furrowed and hair far too flawless for nearly 2 AM on a Thursday.
“Hey, you bastard! Look at me when I’m talking to you kid!” A gruff voice snapped, startling Kim Dokja.
“Fucking christ.” Dokja thinks, just about ready to kick the man out of the store. (In reality, Kim Dokja would never do that, even the off chance that this guy reports him to his manager and Kim Dokja loses his job is too big of a risk for him to take, it’s easier to just get the man to stand down… probably.)
“Sir, for the last time, I cannot sell you anything if you do not pay for it.” In a flash, a wrinkled hand shot forward, grabbing onto the collar of Kim Dokja’s hoodie and pulling him forward, the old man’s beet-red face now right in front of Kim Dokja’s, hot breath violating his senses.
“Listen here kid–!” Suddenly, a large form appeared behind the man, yanking him back and causing him to stumble. Before Kim Dokja could even process what was happening, something thuds down onto the counter.
A bottle of blue Gatorade.
Kim Dokja stuttered for a moment, his brain still catching up.
“I, Um.”
Before he could get a word out, the old man marched back over from where he was pushed away, shoving the masked stranger’s (incredibly broad) shoulder.
“You brat, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” He fumed, grabbing onto the man’s black t-shirt.
The stranger grabbed onto the old man’s stubby wrist, crushing it under his grasp as he pushed the hand off of him. The old man gasped in pain as his wrist throbbed in pain, his grip immediately loosening.
“Gah— l-let go!”
“If you’re not going to buy anything, move.”
Kim Dokja did not feel the height of his cheeks tingle at the commanding sound of the stranger’s voice. With a rough shove, the stranger had practically thrown the old man off of him despite seeming to put little power behind the push, his (incredibly large) biceps only flexing minutely.
“I wonder what he looks like when he actually flexes them.” Kim Dokja did not think as he did not take in the way the stranger’s black t-shirt fit around his muscular arms, riding up slightly as he retracted his arm.
The old man scurried up from his newfound place by the lotto machines, opening his mouth to snarl out more pointless slander, but was quickly shut up by what was probably the deadliest death glare Kim Dokja had ever seen. With a kick of the newspaper stand and a quiet mutter of “damn brats,” the old man finally left the store.
Still in minor shock from the unexpected interaction, Kim Dokja’s gaze lingered for a moment on the door as it rattled shut.
“Just this.” A low voice cut through his daze.
“Huh?” Kim Dokja replied dumbly.
“The Gatorade?” The stranger said, nodding at the drink between them.
“Oh- yeah. Oops.”
“Still not very professional I see.” The stranger said in a tone one might dare to call amused, stopping Kim Dokja mid-scan.
“Listen here you bastard, how many times will I have to say that this is a gas station, not a Michelin star restaurant.” Kim Dokja scowled. He was already on his last nerve from that douche bag before, he didn’t need to deal with this stuck-up bastard in the same night.
“You say that like I’ve been here more than once.” The stranger deadpanned. (Though to be fair, it just sounded like his regular voice, but Kim Dokja could just tell this guy was acting like a brat. Man, was he starting to sound like that old dude?)
“Well, for coming here two days in a row, it sure feels like you’ve been here a lot, considering how talkative you’ve been.” Kim Dokja sighed, scanning and bagging the man’s singular drink. “Here you go, tap your card there.” He said, nodding toward the card reader while handing the man his bag.
“…I’m not talkative.”
“…”
“…..huh?”
The man swiftly scooped up his bag, tapped the card, and turned to leave before the payment had even processed, he was already out the door by the time the receipt had printed.
“The hell did that mean?”
The rest of his shift was surprisingly peaceful, considering how the first half of it went. A few more customers came in here and there, no one notable. He read a few more chapters of some web novels he’s been following, restocked a shelf and a half, then read some more. Just another typical night of mindless drifting.
As Kim Dokja scrolled through some isekai slop, a notification popped up at the top of his screen that completely stole his attention.
[LIVE STREAM STARTED: SUPREME KING - late night stream.]
Kim Dokja blinked at the notification for a moment. Really, a stream this late? As far as he knew, Supreme King was still in Korea right now, so he was streaming at nearly 4 AM.
Not like Kim Dokja was complaining.
Without hesitation, Kim Dokja abandoned his webnovel and tapped the StarStream notification to tune on the stream. Supreme King’s streams were usually quiet, considering how little the guy talked, at least compared to other streamers, but his late night ones were even quieter, mostly consisting of casual gameplay.
Kim Dokja had been watching Supreme King’s streams for nearly 5 years now, almost as long as he’s been reading TWSA. In his mind, the two things had almost gone together.
He was never really into gaming, not exactly great at them himself, nor willing to spend any of his already limited money on them when he could be spending it on much more important things, like early access novel chapters, but one random Youtube tap after another just so happened to lead him to a Supreme Stream. At the time, Kim Dokja had just turned 16 and was neck deep in his TWSA hyperfixation, it was all he could think of to the point where he struggled to do anything if he couldn’t in some way involve TWSA in it, and this small random stream he had come across by chance was no exception. Something about the boy, who seemed about the same age as Kim Dokja—though it was hard from just his hands and the few times he spoke. With his camera pointed towards his hands and keyboard, his overly stoic demeanor, minimal speaking, and clean-cut way of cutting down enemies reminded the reader of Yoo Joonghyuk, and that was all his little TWSA-piled brain needed to keep watching.
One stream led to another, and suddenly, Kim Dokja became a regular in that small streamer’s chat. He didn’t say much at the start, too nervous and socially deprived to know what to say, but eventually he found other regulars in the chat referencing him or greeting him, and from then on it just kind of became part of his life. Nothing big or life changing, but a steady, passive consistency he could go to.
Right after getting into Supreme King, he had checked out a few other accounts, popular streamers like Abyssal Black Flame Dragon or Sun Wukong, but he never found himself watching more than a stream or two, and after a few months, he didn’t bother watching any streamers besides Supreme King.
Supreme King had already been steadily growing for his incredible gameplay. But the day he revealed those tall cheekbones, defined jaw, deep obsidian eyes, thick and flawless brows, that tall nose, and gorgeous tan skin that practically glowed no matter what lighting, it was like everyone wanted to see him on their screens as much as possible
But really, who wouldn’t? The guy was drop-dead gorgeous.
The subscribers rolled in, and with that so did the sponsorships, brand deals, and training opportunities. Within a year and a half of the reveal, Supreme King had gone pro.
As the years passed, Kim Dokja found himself having less and less time to tune into streams. Still, while he wasn’t an avid enough fan to get into the actual “pro” part of Supreme King’s “pro gamer” career, nor had he spent money on any of the (unfortunately very very cool) merch that was released, he’d still consider himself a fan of the streamer nonetheless
This was more of a shame than anything, really, considering his so-called “exlusive” role as an Original Fan that was given a “hand picked group” of SK’s earliest watchers shortly after he went pro. Kim Dokja knew that it was probably all just a big PR ploy to keep old fans interested in new content, but still, it was nice to have.
Kim Dokja might not have been the most hardcore of fans, but he wouldn’t dare miss out on a stream, even if he was at work. It’s not like anyone came in that often anyway, plus he’d be off the clock soon………ish
Opening up the stream, Kim Dokja settled himself into his chair, making sure to leave out an earbud just in case another customer came in, letting the comforting noises of gift pings and video-game loading screen music fill his senses.
“Hello. Today, I will be doing some late-night quick plays. Because it is late here, I will not be talking much.”
Kim Dokja couldn’t help but laugh a bit to himself. By SK standards, “not talking a lot” meant not talking at all.
As he watched the gameplay, he couldn’t help but feel a bit parasocial. He had been watching this guy’s streams for literal years, finding comfort in them that he had even dared to compare to TWSA, yet it wasn’t like he actually knew SK anyway. Hell, he didn’t even know his real name, nobody did. Despite being launched into fame, Supreme King had strictly chosen to stay anonymous, no information about his real name, family, history, or anything was available to the public. People had tried in the past, of course, but somehow every “The Truth About Supreme King!” YouTube video, and “Supreme King history LEAKED” twitter thread always ended up being clickbait or misleading. SK had managed to have one of the most well-known faces in Korea, and had so little information about him out there that even his favorite food was up for debate. (Though Kim Dokja was pretty sure it was Murim Dumplings if his once-in-a-while cooking streams said anything.)
Kim Dokja quickly diminished any kind of negative or anxious thoughts he was having. He was well aware that SK was just some dude on a screen, and that Kim Dokja’s comfort came from watching his streams, just like anyone else, not from being special or having any kind of actual connection to SK. Hell, he was technically closer to that masked bastard than he was to SK.
As Bright Colors flew across the screen with every combo and critical hit, Kim Dokja’s eyes were drawn to the small square where SK’s face cam was, his face as emotionless and stoic as ever, more akin to a statue than someone actively playing a video game in front of—wow, 3,000 viewers? This late at night?
“I guess that’s just the popularity of the Supreme King.” Mused Kim Dokja.
With the hum of the AC and the blur of cars passing by outside turning into white noise, and the calming presence of the stream, Kim Dokja found himself nodding off slightly in his chair. Suddenly, a familiar voice zapped him awake.
“Reader, you are not chatting much.” SK’s low voice said as he took a sip from some drink he had, it looked like blue gatorade. The sudden noise almost startled Kim Dokja from how close it seemed—like SK was speaking right into his ear.
“Ah, my volume was up too high,” He thought absent mindedly, turning it down a few notches.
Hearing SK address him brings back the moment of when he first tuned into a stream after returning from military service. It’s a fond memory of his, how he was about to turn off his phone once the stream had ended to see an email offering him the “Original Fan” perks for free. He had laughed to himself at how the team had posed the email to look like it was actually written by SK to him, rather than a copy and paste message the team sent out.
“I see your user, why aren’t you speaking.”
Kim Dokja rolled his eyes at the streamers blunt way of talking, quickly typing something into chat, and he could only hope that it would get through the sudden influx of messages that rolled through anytime SK actually spoke aloud.
[Only_Reader: I'm at work rn, too tried to type T-T]
“I see. Do your work properly then–” SK’s voice was suddenly cut off by the loud chime of a gift.
[“ANONYMOUS” GIFTED 150 COINS: Why r you at work so late reader its liek 4am]
Supreme King seemed to huff at being interrupted, but didn’t continue whatever he was going to say, as if waiting for Kim Dokja’s response.
[Only_Reader: I work a night shift since I have classes and other things during the day]
With his response, chat suddenly swarmed with much more excitement than he would’ve anticipated for his reasonably boring answer.
[demon_likeURIEL: ARE YOU IN COLLEGE READER?]
[graethemailsnail: night shift…? Reader, do you happen to know a guy name freddy fazbear]
[xXphsycho_namwoonXx: ajusshi are you not actually an ajusshi??]
[SeaComanderJihye: namwoo plz change ur name i cant read it w/o cringing]
[starrytigerr: poor reader, having to work this late at night TT]
[SeaComanderJihye: also reader ajusshi where the hell do u work that u gotta be there at FOUR in the morning, id kms]
[No1.GUYBRONCO.fan: what is your job reader?]
[SeaComanderJihye: wait classes, DOES THIS MEAN UR THE SAME AGE AS MASTER???]
“Lee Jihye, stop abusing your priority chat,” SK said through the rush of messages, admonishing his younger team member.
“Oh, I didn’t know priority chat was a thing, but I guess it makes sense for the members of Pacheonmaeng to have.” Kim Dokja thought, slightly amused by the girl’s sudden interest in his life.
In the swarm of messages, now mostly clowning on Lee Jihye, one caught Kim Dokja’s eye.
[whimsical9158_: im surprised u said even this much abt urslef reader, u’ve always been so mysteriouss]
[ieryka_magic: no fr, he’s been around since forever and i think this is the first time he’s given even a hint at how old he is]
Kim Dokja felt a bit surprised by this, remembering how he had been a bit too disregarding of internet safety at the beginning. Sure it hadn't been anything too explicit, but it was surely enough for someone to gauge that he was in high school at the time, and therefore would be around Supreme King’s age now.
Thinking about that message a bit more, Kim Dokja supposed it had just been so long ago that most people wouldn't have been there, let alone remembered the times when Kim Dokja would actually be open about anything having to do with himself and not gameplay.
“Reader doesn’t have to share any information he doesn't want to.” Supreme King’s low voice spilled through Kim Dokja’s headphones, the commanding tone paired with the fact that he had technically said his name, made Kim Dokja’s breath catch in his throat. He couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit special at the fact that Supreme King was protecting his privacy, but he knew that it made sense for the kind of guy he seemed to be. Of course, the man whose age wasn’t even revealed until a year after his professional career began would understand someone's want for privacy, especially when it came to the aether that was the internet. Still, it was nice to hear.
Chat seemed to agree.
[demon_likeURIEL: AWWWW SK UR SO AWBIBFIBFIAUE, LOOKING OUT FOR HIM]
[whimsical9158: AUHG GUYS IS THIS KINGDOK?]
[frizzlenut: KINGDOK CANON!!]
[SeaComanderJihye: Master you are NOT slick]
[demon_likeURIEL: AWNJDBAJOBFOUEBAUOAE SOMEBODY TELL ME YOU CLIPPED THIS!!!!]
[gary.oak: aannndddd clipped]
[demon_likeURIEL: OH MY GOD THANK YOU GARYOAK ILL NEVER LET THE MODS BAN YOU AGAIN PLEASE I LOVE YOU THANK YOU]
[“demon_likeURIEL” GIFTED 500 COINS]
[“demon_likeURIEL” GIFTED 510 COINS]
[“demon_likeURIEL” GIFTED 690 COINS]
[“demon_likeURIEL GIFTED……
“Uriel, if you don’t stop, I’m going to have the mods ban you.” Supreme King huffed as the screen filled with countless coin donations. “I can still revoke your donation rights whether you’re my manager or not.”
Kim Dokja couldn't help but snicker at the cute display from Uriel. She’d always been particularly outgoing and kind to Kim Dokja, though was just kind of like that. Very… outgoing. Still, one thing was confusing him.
What the hell was a “kingdok”?
He thought he’d ask as much, there was a chance no one would see his message anyway.
[Only_Reader: What is a “Kingdok”??]
As soon as Kim Dokja sent the message, the chat went dead silent. Even SK, who had coincidentally glanced up at the screen in that moment paused, his in-game character stopping in its tracks.
Then messages started pouring in like a tsunami, rushing by so fast that Kim Dokja didn’t even bother trying to read them, all filled with some kind of variation of “THE SUBJECT IS AWARE” or “OH MY GOD HE KNOWS”, and the alternate “OH MY GOD DOES HE NOT KNOW?”
Still, completely confused, he couldn't help but hope Supreme King would have some kind of response to chat’s sudden explosion. To his surprise, something completely different happened. From the small corner of Kim Dokja’s phone, he could see SK’s mouth open for a second as if he was about to say something, then close again. Then open again. Then close again. With a huff, the Supreme King turned his head slightly away from the screen, as if avoiding eye contact with the camera, but in doing so fully displaying his… flushed ears??
Was the Supreme King blushing?
“What the hell…”
The stream ended soon after Kim Dokja clocked out, and while sitting there on the train, watching the sun rise behind the Seoul Skyline, he thought of how, perhaps, it would’ve been better for it to have been called an early morning stream.