Work Text:
Kim Dokja is, as usual, a little slow when it comes to emotions. It’s almost like he has an immovable wall that effectively separates his brain from his heart.
He’s quite fond of stories, and ironically enough, his little (read: one year long) tango around the bush with a specific sunfish fits rather nicely within the five components of the common narrative arc: exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, resolution.
It goes like this:
Exposition:
Kim Dokja is 28 years old, an only child, a reader, and newly unemployed. He doesn’t think it’s his fault, and his former coworker Yoo Sangah assures him it isn’t, but when he lies in bed for a little too long to be acceptable, he feels like it might be his fault.
‘Your performance is fine, but we just don’t think you are a good fit for our company anymore.’
It doesn’t take a genius to trace this back to an incident. About two weeks ago, he accompanied Director Seo Junghwa to a party. He didn’t want to initially, but the director assured him it was work related.
More importantly, it would apparently help with future promotions.
With rent increasing year after year, Kim Dokja’s measly little paycheck did not afford him the leisure of saying no.
And so to the definitely work related party he went, with fists clenched.
And from the definitely work related party he emerged from, with fists clenched but considerably bloodier.
At the time, he supposed it was better than a broken nose, which was what the director emerged from the definitely work related party with. But now, staring at the calendar marking his upcoming rent payment, he’s thinking he might have received the short end.
He’s never really liked job hunting before, but left with no choice, he submits his plain and rather unassuming resume to numerous platforms. He boasts no outstanding achievements, and he’s not really the type to socialize with others so his connections are a little lacking, but he has his determination and he’s eager for some hands-on work.
Well. As much as his 28 years old back will allow him.
Sadly, none of the potential employers see the value in his assets, and he thinks it's quite rude, but there’s really nothing he can do. At his last failed interview, the hiring manager had been nice enough to give him some feedback, unsolicited as it was.
‘There’s nothing wrong with you, but there are just better candidates. Frankly, there is nothing remarkable about you.’
Kim Dokja doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh, to be honest. He’s always known there’s nothing spectacular about him, but he’s held onto hope that maybe his hard work and dedication will serve him well. Not too well, but well enough to survive.
They don’t.
In this world, there are three types of people. There are the protagonists (the ones whose pathways are magically paved), the secondary supporting characters (the ones who get their time to shine, but are usually forgettable enough), and the writers (the ones who work for everything they have).
He fits into the fourth type: the reader.
Kind of there and kind of not; observing and reading from beyond a wall and trying to puzzle it out in his head. Sometimes, the stray thought pops up that readers are supposed to be omniscient, omnipotent even, so he should be omniscient, omnipotent even, right?
And then he promptly discards the thought because he’s not that kind of reader.
As it stands, he has about two weeks to find and secure a job before he runs out of savings and gets thrown out of his shitty apartment, ass first on wet pavement. With nothing but his dignity left (even though some may say he doesn’t even have that left), he’d like to at least walk out on his own two feet.
Distantly, he thinks he should be a little more stressed about his current predicament, but he’s really a bit more worried about the sad little plant wilting on his windowsill. The leaves are so yellow and crumpled, he briefly considers putting the poor thing out of its misery himself.
As he’s thinking of ways to ethically murder a plant, his phone vibrates on the table, and when he catches a glimpse of the caller ID, he starts thinking of ways to ethically murder himself.
Ignoring the call is not an option because if he even so much as considers it, he might as well be signing himself a death wish. So he answers the call.
“Hello?”
“No, you cannot stay with me.”
“I didn’t even say anything?”
“I know what you’re thinking. You’re just gonna try to weasel your way into my house and out of paying me any rent.”
To be honest, Kim Dokja really had not been thinking of that. But now that the idea’s there…
“Don’t you even dare, you bastard.”
“I thought friends were supposed to help each other out, Sooyoung-ah. Are we not friends?”
“No,” comes the crisp reply. “I literally lined you up with a million interviews. It’s not my fault you butchered all of them.”
“It’s not my fault they don’t appreciate an honest, hard working man these days.”
“It’s because they can tell you’re a rat bastard.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.”
“Kim Dokja, I really will leave you on the streets.”
They both know it’s a lie, but he courteously does not point that out. Whether it's due to basic respect, the 10 long years of friendship between them, or the fear that Han Sooyoung really will leave him one day, it’s hard to say.
“Oi idiot, how much do you like games?”
Kim Dokja blinks at the odd question. “...Not that much?”
“And how much do you like money?”
“Is that even a question?”
“Then starting from today, you really like games, okay?”
“Are you high again? Sooyoung-ah, I told you it’s really not good for your body. I know you’re rebellious, but please try to listen a bit. I’m just trying to look out for you.”
“The fuck you mean ‘again’, bastard? I’ve never smoked before.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Duly noted. Looks like you got your situation all figured out. I’ll just have to send this well paying job listing to another idiot friend of mine, it seems. What a shame, the salary really did look attractive as well. Can’t be helped.”
“...Send it to me.”
“What’s that?”
“...”
“Hm, let’s see who would be a good fit for this. Jang Hayoung maybe? ”
“...Please.”
And that’s how Kim Dokja finds himself staring at a job listing for the professional gamer Supreme King’s manager.
Rising Action:
He doesn’t really think it comes as a surprise, but Kim Dokja is not a gamer. He worked at a game development company for several years, but honest to god, he’s never really found the appeal.
The closest he’s ever gotten to gaming was that one time he got addicted to Animal Crossing for three weeks, but somehow, he doesn’t think that’s the type of exhilarating gameplay people are into.
It’s definitely not what the Supreme King is known for.
While Kim Dokja does not exactly have a big social media presence, he’s not oblivious to the hype around South Korea’s biggest pro gamer. He knows his name is Yoo Joonghyuk, his online title is the Supreme King, he's 28 this year, and he… plays games?
Okay, so maybe he doesn’t know much about the pro gamer, but he does know he’s quite well known for his looks. His fandom rivals that of a small (big) idol group, but Kim Dokja can’t really blame them because his face rivals that of a small (big) idol group.
He’ll risk the gay allegations (Han Sooyoung tells him to stop saying that because he is gay), but Kim Dokja is willing to come on record to say this with his whole chest and diaphragm:
The man is gorgeous.
Once again, he curses his unfortunate status as a reader rather than a protagonist. But then again, the Supreme King is an exceptional case; he is quite literally the protagonist of protagonists.
Which is why he’s not totally sure what he’s doing in front of the beautiful glass building that supposedly houses the Supreme King’s agency, Star Stream Agency. Without a doubt, there are hundreds of thousands, if not millions of fans lining up to be his manager. If Kim Dokja can’t even land an ordinary office job with a plain old rando company, how the double fuck is he supposed to land this one?
He doesn’t really have much hope, but Han Sooyoung had gone through the trouble of securing an interview for him. It might be a bit rude to leave without at least stepping foot into the building.
If all else fails, he can at least tell people he’s seen the Supreme King up close and personal before. That might be a resume booster.
The receptionist at the front desk looks equal parts bored and cynical and he can already feel his social battery draining into a bottomless pit. It’s not a great start considering he hasn’t even entered the meeting room, much less started the interview, but he congratulates himself nonetheless when he rushes out a sentence without stumbling over his words.
Surprisingly, there is a lack of fans crowding the place. In fact, there is a surprising lack of anybody in the building. Even when he’s ushered to the correct floor, he barely sees the occasional employee.
It’s a little strange… actually it’s a lot strange, but he doesn’t have the time to dwell on it because between one breath and the next, he’s led into the meeting room and then he can’t count his breaths anymore.
Upon retelling the story, Kim Dokja will vehemently deny ever gay panicking because I don’t gay panic, okay, that’s ridiculous and you're ridiculous, but to everyone else, the truth is blindingly clear.
In hindsight, he thinks it might be abnormal not to gay panic.
He bows politely, hoping he doesn’t fall over with how dizzy he feels, and the interviewer returns the bow, but the Supreme King does not bow and wow, that’s kind of an asshole move, isn’t it?
“You must be Kim Dokja-ssi,” the interviewer greets warmly, extending her hand out.
“Ah, yes. It’s nice to meet you.” Kim Dokja shakes her hand and moves to greet the Supreme King. When it becomes painfully obvious that he is not going to return the gesture, Kim Dokja lets his arm fall limply to his side, unwilling to let his face burn with embarrassment.
He refuses to give him that small victory.
For the first five minutes, the interview goes uneventfully. The interviewer asks him standard questions, and Kim Dokja gives her standard answers. It’s stifling.
Even the Supreme King must think so because before the interviewer can ask him another typical question, he cuts in.
“That’s enough.”
Both Kim Dokja and the interviewer stare at him with thinly veiled shock.
“But–”
“I will take it from here.”
The interviewer takes it as a clear dismissal and silently gathers her papers. Just as silently, Kim Dokja stares at her with pleading eyes, begging for her assistance, but either she doesn’t notice or she doesn’t care.
He’s inclined to think it’s the latter, given how she purposely averts her eyes and packs up even more quickly.
The door shuts with a quiet click, and Kim Dokja thinks it’s the sound of his fate being sealed.
For a full minute and a half, the Supreme King just looks at him. Kim Dokja knows, because he’s counting the seconds in his head.
“What are your capabilities as a manager.” It’s a question, but somehow, it’s phrased as a statement instead. It’s mildly uncomfortable.
“Uh, I…” Kim Dokja’s mind blanks, and he just stares dumbly at the man instead. “I’ve lived 28 years managing myself just fine?”
It comes out as a question (the opposite problem of the Supreme King), but he has bigger things to care about. Like how he just used his age as justification for his application instead of his entire professional career.
There’s no expression on the Supreme King’s face, but Kim Dokja can just imagine the critical judgment. Hell, he’s judging himself right now.
“What do you know about games.”
“People watch you play them,” he says without pause, trying to make up for his lack of knowledge and expertise with blind confidence. It’s not really working, if the quirk of the Supreme King’s eyebrow is anything to go off of.
“Do you know anything about my gaming career.”
“You don’t… play animal… crossing…?” Word by word, the confidence slips further and further. Even further than that, however, he can barely see the last of his sense of self disappearing into the void.
He’s never going to recover from this psychological trauma.
The Supreme King opens his mouth, but Kim Dokja is faster. He grabs his bag and bows deeply, losing the fight against his flush of humiliation, and all but runs out of the meeting room with his tail between his legs. With a bit of (a lot of) time, some ice cream, and maybe some exposure therapy, he might consider leaving his bed again.
The interviewer watches him scurry out and sighs, entering the room again. She’s not surprised to see a firm scowl on the pro gamer’s face. She may have not been in the room, but she is guilty of eavesdropping the entire time. There’s no way she would give up that golden opportunity.
Without a doubt, that was the strangest interview she’d ever witnessed.
And because the Supreme King Yoo Joonghyuk is nothing if not a man of strange tastes, Kim Dokja is hired exactly one hour later.
Climax:
It’s been about two months, and while Kim Dokja would love to say he’s doing a fantastic job of managing the Supreme King, that is unfortunately not the truth.
That doesn’t stop him from trying to lie, however.
More often than not, he trails behind Yoo Joonghyuk like a lost puppy (or a wet rat, as Han Sooyoung likes to correct), utterly confused as to what exactly he’s supposed to do as a manager.
And it’s not like Yoo Joonghyuk is of any use either. In these two months, Kim Dokja has yet to receive a single piece of helpful constructive criticism. Other than the odd noncommittal grunt, Yoo Joonghyuk barely even acknowledges him.
Now, he supposes pro gamers probably do not need extravagant social skills, but with the Supreme King’s massive following, one would think he would have amassed some semblance of a vocabulary.
But no. Nothing. Kim Dokja is starting to think he might not really understand the human language.
Back in Minosoft, he’d never been a fan of the monthly evaluations, but now he finds himself missing them a bit. If only to gauge just how poor his performance has been.
At least he’s not fired yet.
And really, that’s the only silver lining because the pay is extremely generous and he’s able to make his monthly rent without having to skip meals. It doesn’t really stop him from skipping meals regardless, but it’s at least not due to financial reasons anymore.
Halfway through the third month, Yoo Joonghyuk stops him in the middle of the hallway and Kim Dokja just about jumps out of his skin. He’s gotten quite used to disappearing into shadows, and the shadow of the Supreme King is thankfully colossal and easy to sink into.
Also, he still hasn’t really gotten over the whole interview incident. He’s a firm believer of “out of sight, out of mind” and so he’s had plenty of practice dodging the memory. But when the primary instigator is right there in front of him, no amount of mental gymnastics can stop it.
“Um, yes?”
Yoo Joonghyuk just stares at him blankly and Kim Dokja faintly wonders if he should resort to neanderthal grunting to get his point across instead.
“Do you not eat.”
The odd not-quite-question-statement snaps him out of his spiralling thoughts but he immediately wishes he’s back in the sanctuary of his mind because what the fuck? “I’m sorry?”
“You never eat lunch.”
He just kind of stares at Yoo Joonghyuk because he doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t even know if there is an acceptably professional response to that. Yoo Joonghyuk just strolls past him and that’s the end of that interaction.
The next day, there is a neatly packed lunchbox sitting innocently on his desk.
He throws it out without another thought.
Han Sooyoung calls him an idiot, but he’s not stupid enough to just eat something sitting on his desk. There’s no name, no letter, nothing, and while Kim Dokja is fairly nonchalant about his life, he knows Han Sooyoung feels a little differently, despite her violent denials.
(One time, he’d come down with a nasty bug and was bedridden for 3 days without telling anyone. Han Sooyoung and the police kicked down his apartment door.
To be precise, Han Sooyoung kicked down the door. The police just lingered behind her.
After that, he gave her an emergency set of keys to his apartment. His new apartment, because the landlord had terminated his lease after that.)
Kim Dokja thinks he might be imagining things, but Yoo Joonghyuk’s mood is even worse in the following days. There’s a permanent scowl on his handsome face, and he looks about negative five seconds away from wringing Kim Dokja’s neck.
Which he thinks is quite unfair because he’s done nothing wrong! He’s done nothing right either, sure, but he certainly does not think he deserves this treatment.
To make matters worse, Yoo Joonghyuk’s fans are beginning to pick up on his foul mood and there’s a low buzz about it in the media before it blows up into a massive storm due to a single comment:
‘You think he got into a fight with his partner?’
And then the internet promptly dies and resurrects with a vengeance.
Overnight, all social media platforms become flooded with speculations about the Supreme King’s dating life and his potential partners and even the hashtag #SupremeQueen starts trending.
It would be funny if not for Yoo Joonghyuk’s terrifying rage.
And sadly, Kim Dokja is at the epicentre of that rage as his manager.
He’s trying to do damage control and urges the agency to publish a statement encouraging his fans not to meddle in his private affairs, but he’s outvoted one to everyone else. Apparently, it’s great publicity.
They don’t really care that it’s not exactly fostering a great work environment as Kim Dokja is slowly withering away from the weight of his anger.
The agency forces Yoo Joonghyuk to continue his streams and while he doesn’t look the slightest bit happy (read: he look positively murderous), Kim Dokja thinks he has the patience of a saint because he doesn’t snap even while his chat floods with comments prodding at his personal life.
Kim Dokja mutes the chat, much to the public’s disappointment, and thinks he’s finally done something right in his three months of employment when Yoo Joonghyuk glances at him for a brief second.
Unfortunately, his fans clip the video and now there’s an even worse rumour circulating that his potential partner is someone he works with.
‘Did you see the way he looked away?? He must be looking at his lover!!! It happened right after the mute so it must be someone from Star Stream Agency!!!!!!’
Really, netizens are a little too creative these days.
Kim Dokja has to work with Yoo Joonghyuk a bit more to ensure his privacy, and though he doesn’t think he’s quite warmed up to him yet, at least he uses his words now.
He kind of sees the pro gamer as a flower that he has to work overtime to coax into blooming. That is, if flowers were dark, brooding, and constantly frowning. The thought sends him into hysterical giggles and Yoo Joonghyuk looks at him like he’s crazy.
Thankfully, the whole ordeal comes and goes in less than three weeks, because they’re netizens who flock to the newest shiny gossip, and everything more or less goes back to normal in due time.
Because there is no longer a need to, Kim Dokja stops talking to Yoo Joonghyuk as much, but that lasts for about three days before Yoo Joonghyuk corners him and frowns at him so deeply, he almost starts apologizing for being born.
The only thing the Supreme King tells him is “stop hiding” and he doesn’t know what the fuck that means, but he supposes he’s been a little evasive since the whole dating rumours died down.
Really, he’s starting to see the scary Yoo Joonghyuk as a petulant pet instead of a flower. Maybe a doberman. Definitely not a golden retriever.
The neatly packed lunchboxes also do not stop appearing on his desk, but now he eats them instead of throwing them out. It’s only because he had come to work early one day for a meeting only to see Yoo Joonghyuk snooping around his office with a lunchbox held gingerly in his hands.
When Kim Dokja asked him about it, Yoo Joonghyuk just stared at him impassively, like there was absolutely nothing wrong about his actions. And of course, who was Kim Dokja to doubt?
(When he turned away, Kim Dokja thought he might have seen the slightest dusting of red on the tips of his ears, but to this day, he blames it on the lighting.)
The lunchboxes are fucking delicious and even though he’s never really had an appetite, he finds himself growing hungry around lunch time and eager to scarf down the food. Even Han Sooyoung has noticed and prods him about his sudden motivation to go to work.
Because of Yoo Joonghyuk’s rapidly growing career, the agency deems it necessary to increase his management team accordingly. So from the logistics department joins Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung and Kim Dokja takes an immediate liking to them.
Yoo Joonghyuk is, as always, indifferent.
One week later, Lee Seolhwa joins from the marketing department, and even though they all keep a low profile, Lee Seolhwa is different. She’s halfway between beautiful and ethereal and she has quite the fanbase herself.
She and Yoo Joonghyuk form an unlikely friendship through eloquent words and caveman grunts, and Kim Dokja feels like he’s watching a drama with bated breaths.
Despite their budding relationship (as proclaimed by Kim Dokja) and the now quadrupled management team, Yoo Joonghyuk still goes to Kim Dokja for everything.
And he really does mean everything.
Stream schedule, meetings, competitions, tournament dates; Kim Dokja’s phone screen is a wash of texts from the Supreme King. He’s mentioned to him that he has three other managers now, but he doesn’t seem to care.
He doesn’t even know if Yoo Joonghyuk has the other managers’ numbers saved.
When they’re at work together, he barely acknowledges Kim Dokja with more than a curt nod. But once the work day is over, he somehow always has a question to ask him, no matter how trivial.
One day, Yoo Joonghyuk asks him what game he should play in his next stream.
As a joke, Kim Dokja says Animal Crossing. For old time’s sake. And maybe for some exposure therapy.
To his dismay, Yoo Joonghyuk really does play Animal Crossing in his next stream and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. When the agency demands an answer, he innocently shrugs his shoulders, and Jung Heewon snickers like she knows something he doesn’t.
To be fair, the fans seemed to enjoy it well enough.
Four months after the 'Supreme Queen incident', as he dubs it despite Yoo Joonghyuk’s threats, a comment pops up in his chat asking if he’s dating anyone at the moment.
Yoo Joonghyuk glances at it with narrowed eyes, and Kim Dokja is ready to mute the chat again in case anything goes awry.
Instead, Yoo Joonghyuk pays off his debt in the game with bells and says casually, “No, but I am pursuing someone.”
Kim Dokja ends his stream abruptly.
Falling Action:
As expected, the internet explodes with the force of a nuclear bomb. Kim Dokja doesn’t even think it’s an overreaction, because he’s pretty much in the same mental state as Yoo Joonghyuk’s fans.
The perpetrator in question, of course, does not stand down for even a second even when Kim Dokja corners him and bemoans the devastating consequences of his actions. It’s rather comical, watching the normally very calm Kim Dokja lose his shit to what is virtually a brick wall.
(Anyone passing by will say it’s obvious, with the way Yoo Joonghyuk just looks at him and waits patiently for him to finish. Those looking closely will also see the faint curl of a small smile, but then again, there’s no one looking closely because they are all terrified of the pro gamer.)
Kim Dokja is in the middle of his extensive yelling session (it’s actually pretty effective at relieving his emotions, even better than therapy) when Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes darken considerably and then his thoughts derail completely.
“Kim Dokja, what did you say.”
He feels like something crawled up his ass and died but he doesn’t want to back down now. “I said, bastard, pursue Lee Seolhwa however you want, I don’t give a fuck, but please do not make it public news. It’s already hard enough maintaining your privacy as is, I can’t guarantee you won’t get mobbed now.”
There’s clear anger in Yoo Joonghyuk’s glare and Kim Dokja feels the last of his courage shrivelling up in his throat. He has absolutely no idea what he’s done.
“You’re a fool, Kim Dokja.”
“And you’re a bastard.”
It’s rather fortunate that Lee Seolhwa chooses that moment to walk between them with a hidden smile and break up the ensuing fistfight that Kim Dokja has no hopes of winning. He sees Yoo Joonghyuk give her a look that’s almost helpless and he thinks he should give them some privacy.
As he’s walking away, he hears a grumble of “why do I like such an idiot” and he can’t help himself as he turns around to yell,
“Yoo Joonghyuk, you should be a bit nicer, otherwise Seolhwa-ssi will never return your sentiment.”
Lee Seolhwa looks a bit amused and Yoo Joonghyuk looks like he’s about to unethically murder him. Kim Dokja wisely shuts up.
Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung ask him how he’s so certain Yoo Joonghyuk is pursuing Lee Seolhwa and not someone else and Kim Dokja just quirks an unbelieving eyebrow at them.
“They look like the male and female leads of a drama. Obviously, they’re perfect for each other.”
“That’s a bit superficial, don’t you think, Dokja-ssi?” Lee Hyunsung bites into his dry, convenience store sandwich and looks wistfully, not for the first time, at Kim Dokja’s homemade lunch.
“Have you seen them? Besides, Seolhwa-ssi is the only one who can tolerate him.”
“What about you?” When Kim Dokja gawks at Jung Heewon, she grins mischievously. “You seem to tolerate him just fine.”
“I do not. He is an intolerable, insufferable bastard.”
“You go on dates with him though?”
Kim Dokja chokes on his rice. “I go on what now with him?”
Lee Hyunsung frowns like he’s staring at a conundrum while Jung Heewon is busy hacking out a painful laugh. “You guys go out together. I know I heard Joonghyuk-ssi asking for your availability after work.”
“That’s for work! We talk about work!”
“At cafes? At each other’s houses?”
Kim Dokja’s face flames with indignation. “It’s just convenient.”
Jung Heewon laughs at him openly and Kim Dokja briefly considers violence. He doesn’t, of course, but he seriously considers it.
Lee Hyunsung isn’t entirely wrong; they do indeed see each other after work hours but it’s only ever been due to work matters.
Mostly.
At first, it had been entirely due to work matters. Now, it’s more a routine than anything; every Tuesday and Friday and Sunday (and sometimes Monday and Wednesday and Thursday and Saturday), they have a chat about something work related. Sometimes, it becomes something work unrelated, but he blames that on his wandering mind.
He can justify these outings as a weekly (daily) check in with a very emotionally unstable client, like the good manager he is. Sometimes, he tries to ask about Lee Seolhwa, but he gets shut down before the sentence is even out of his mouth.
Kim Dokja has never thought of the Supreme King as shy, but he’s been wrong before.
He’s entirely convinced that with a little bit of time (and cognitive behavioural therapy for one Yoo Joonghyuk), the ship will sail successfully.
That is, until Lee Seolhwa comes out as aromantic with no intentions of dating on her social media.
The trending hashtag #SupremeQueenLeeSeolhwa comes to a grinding halt and Yoo Joonghyuk’s fanbase is thrown into confusion. With no else on the chopping board, they tear apart and analyze all of his streams and online interactions until they compile another list of potential candidates.
No one is safe. Not even Lee Jihye, his junior and an aspiring pro gamer under the same agency.
(Kim Dokja does shut those rumours down, against the wishes of the agency, because Lee Jihye is very much underage and he doesn’t want both of their reputation smeared.)
Kim Dokja seeks out the pro gamer frantically but when he finds him, there is the usual lack of expression on his face. That doesn’t stop him from placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder though.
“Kim Dokja, what are you up to now?”
Kim Dokja looks at him seriously, trying to convey his sincerity. “I heard about Seolhwa-ssi. Please do not despair. With your face, you will find your female lead in no time.”
Yoo Joonghyuk rolls his eyes, and that honestly might be the first display of emotion other than anger that Kim Dokja has ever seen on him. “I do not like Lee Seolhwa. Stop with your delusions.”
“It’s okay, Yoo Joonghyuk. You don’t have to deny it. Let yourself feel and hurt.”
“Kim Dokja, I really will kill you.”
He doesn’t appear to be lying, which leaves Kim Dokja flailing. If it wasn’t Lee Seolhwa then…?
A thought comes to him and he can’t hold back his gasp.
“Don’t tell me…”
Yoo Joonghyuk peers at him, and is that… hope?
“Is it Jung Heewon?”
Yoo Joonghyuk hits him with the lunchbox in his grip.
Resolution:
Kim Dokja goes to work one day and enters through the door to a crack and streamers raining down.
Apparently, it’s his one year anniversary at Star Stream Agency as the Supreme King’s manager.
And apparently, he’s the only one to have made it past three months.
The agency deems it as an achievement unheard of before, so the whole company takes a day off to celebrate it. Even Yoo Joonghyuk is present, standing off to the corner gloomily with a party hat sat upon his dark hair.
Kim Dokja sputters out a laugh at the ridiculous image.
It’s a bit of a mental shock to see Han Sooyoung among the crowd, but considering she’d been the one to send him the job listing and secure him an interview despite his lacklustre resume, it’s not too far out of the realm of plausibility.
He does, however, fall out of his chair when he finds out she’s the CEO of Star Stream Agency.
“You never asked,” is the only explanation he gets.
Fair enough.
Even though it’s hardly professional, Han Sooyoung suggests playing drinking games, and because she is entirely too good at persuasion (and perhaps due to her status as CEO), they go along with it.
Which is how Kim Dokja finds himself in a game of Truth or Drink. Everyone gets roped into playing. Even Yoo Joonghyuk.
The first couple of rounds are uneventful because everyone is still trying to maintain an air of awkward professionalism, but then it’s Yoo Joonghyuk’s turn and Han Sooyoung grins like a madwoman.
“Yoo Joonghyuk, Supreme King. Who were you pursuing?”
Everyone throws professionalism out the window and looks expectantly at the pro gamer. He merely frowns into his drink.
“Are.”
“Huh?”
“Not were. Are.”
The gremlin smile doesn’t disappear from Han Sooyoung’s face. If anything, it stretches wider and Kim Dokja has a very, very bad feeling about it.
“Alright, Supreme King. Who are you pursuing?”
Instead of answering, however, he just gulps down the entire drink in his hand. There’s a collective groan of disappointment that spreads through the group and Kim Dokja lets out a breath he doesn’t remember holding.
Five minutes later, when Lee Jihye is in the middle of answering her question (she has to answer because Kim Dokja will not let her drink as a minor), Yoo Joonghyuk speaks up.
“Kim Dokja.”
“Yes, Joonghyuk-ah?”
But for once, the Supreme King is not looking at him. He’s staring resolutely at the wall, and his fingers clench and unclench rhythmically against the empty glass.
Only Han Sooyoung smiles wickedly.
“What was that, Yoo Joonghyuk?”
He levels a glare at her, but she’s undeterred. Kim Dokja delves into the comprehensive list of glares in his head to try to puzzle out Yoo Joonghyuk’s real emotions. He’s memorized more than 37 different types of glares; surely, this must be one of them. But he comes up empty handed.
“You asked me who I’m pursuing.”
For one minute and twelve seconds, Kim Dokja does not understand what he is saying. When he does, it hits him with the subtlety of a magnitude 10 earthquake.
(+1) Epilogue:
Kim Dokja is 28 years old, an only child, a reader, and newly dating.
For once, he lets go of the wall separating his brain from his heart and realizes oh shit, I think I like him too, much to the relief of one Yoo Joonghyuk.
For once, he lets go of the wall that makes him a reader. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be the protagonist, but he’ll settle for being the protagonist’s love interest.