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On Kim Dokja’s command, Han Sooyoung had ushered the kids and everyone else away, not without some whining and complaints, of course. There was more of a ruckus than he had expected.
“Ahjussi, are you sure?” Lee Jihye said, casting a glance at him, up and down. She was acting as though he’d be up to no good. Admittedly, for good reason. Though, if he was, he obviously wasn’t going to let it show on his face. “Don’t tell me, you’re gonna try to kill yourself again? Aha!” She said it as if she’d discovered the proof to some unsolved mathematical conjecture. “Master’ll keep you in check, for sure.” She had made some crazy assumptions, as usual.
“Hyung, why? Come, come!” Lee Gilyoung tugged at the cuff of his white coat. “Please? Come up with us!” He had given him those puppy-dog eyes, the ones he knew Kim Dokja couldn’t resist. Still, Kim Dokja had to stay.
“Hah!” Han Sooyoung had simply barked a laugh at him. “Well, whatever. As you wish, you dumbass. Just don’t die, alright? Go to a stairwell in time and don’t dawdle. If you do end up dying, I’ll resurrect you from the grave and do embarrassing things to your body. Watch out.”
After that whole debacle (that ended up lasting less than an hour), they had gone up to the stairwell with no other major hitches. To the next floor, the tenth. They’d all waved at him, Lee Gilyoung pouting and crying all the way there. In the end, he was unwillingly dragged and thrown straight in, the honors done by Lee Hyunsung. Lee Hyunsung looked exceptionally guilty afterwards. Kim Dokja did feel a little bad, of course, but it had to be done.
Everyone else went in normally, after waving and waving and waving. Farewells were screamed out, back and forth, almost endlessly. Kim Dokja’s arm was still sore from waving for so long.
If he’s correct, everyone who had survived so far had gone up. Other teams. Anna Croft, Min Jiwon, Selena Kim, and others. They wouldn’t have risked staying on this floor. They wouldn’t have risked the potential death of a team member. Especially when they’d already met the conditions to move onto the next.
Kim Dokja had told Han Sooyoung that they’d be doing some reconnaissance in the last few hours on this floor. Extra looting, picking off the mobs that still remained. Finding the remaining Hidden Scenarios that may be present on the floor. Last-minute grinding. Him and Yoo Joonghyuk, together.
Well, it wasn’t like he was lying. He had only bent the truth a little.
He looks to the side, seeing that Yoo Joonghyuk had sent him another message through the chat. This brat was always more talkative in texts than in person.
Chat
Yoo Joonghyuk: They’ve gone up?
Kim Dokja: Yes.
Yoo Joonghyuk: Heading over.
Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk. They both knew. The next floor, the tenth, would likely spell their end. Deaths had been few and far between amongst their parties. However, that didn’t mean they didn’t happen. Losing Na Bori on the seventh floor was a freak accident. They’d been by the stairwell, about to go up. A stray attack had been shot out of nowhere, aimed at Lee Jihye. It was from a mob that they thought they’d killed. It had used a skill to mask itself, pretending to be dead. In that split second, Na Bori had pushed her out of the way, taking the hit instead.
A wholly preventable mistake. Subdued by the busy, hectic days full of strategizing, they’d let their guard slip for only a moment. And that small moment, only a fraction of a second, was enough to take a life.
Lee Jihye had been wracked with grief for days. She’d stare out in the middle of nowhere, sometimes laughing, sometimes sobbing. She’d talk to herself, to the Na Bori that had departed from this world. Kim Dokja had thought she’d be unable to go on. He wouldn’t have blamed her. He had patted her back, hugged her. The others did so too. They’d let her rest in the safe rooms, taking her outside during the cooldowns where she’d be kicked out. Meandering chats and conversations, everyone tried to steer clear of the mention of death, instead, talking about useless things.
But, in the end, she stayed strong. She had pushed through by the end of the eighth floor. They all had to. This entire thing, the tower itself, was a cruel joke.
In all other respects, they’d have been lucky. No one else had died. Everyone still stood. Even Shin Yoosung, whose physical body had rotted due to a stray status effect, had been saved, reborn as a dokkaebi. They had gotten close to death sometimes, more than he could count. Himself being the biggest offender, of course, but he didn’t want to think about that. It was fate blessing him, the fact that they’d all survived this long.
It’s true too that fate cannot stop what’s set in stone.
Earlier on this floor, Yoo Sangah had used her once-a-floor-skill, [Threads of Fate]. It had allowed her to see ahead, to set the future in stone. Her expression had paled upon the casting of her skill. She had seen something terrible.
Yoo Sangah had warned him of death on the next floor. That he’d be killed by the one he loved the most. Even the dokkaebi had been endlessly chattering about it. The Demon King Selection.
Wet mud, the sounds of trekking and trudging signify Yoo Joonghyuk’s arrival. He’s covered in blood, dirt, and other miscellaneous fluids. His black coat blows in waves behind him—the look of a true protagonist. He’s unarmed, his sword likely stashed in his inventory. The spindly trees cast shadows onto the ground like skeletal hands reaching towards them—the dead from prior floors forsaking them.
Yoo Joonghyuk still looks handsome as ever. Even while caked in grime and gore, he seems as though he were simply acting on a movie set. His eyebrows are sharp and thick as though a master calligrapher had drawn them. His face is even more scarred than when Kim Dokja had last seen him, but all the scars do is emphasize his jawline, adding measured imperfection to an already-perfect face. Even though his left eye had been lost in a prior floor, it only complements his battle-worn look.
“Hey, Joonghyuk-ah.”
“Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk breathes out. His breath billows, a white cloud forming in the cold air. He looks relieved. His shoulders relax, almost as if a weight had been removed from his back. He walks closer, mud slushing with every step. The blood dripping from his hair and face makes for a sorry sight, but it’s reassuring that it’s not his own blood that he’s tracking everywhere.
Kim Dokja walks close too, his legs moving on their own. He hadn’t seen Yoo Joonghyuk in so long. He knew he was alive—of course he did—but… they hadn’t met up. They couldn’t have.
There was no time. In managing their own teams and completing the Main Scenario for this floor, they could only focus on the tasks at hand. Every second was spent glossing over the layout of this floor, levelling up, gathering loot, killing mobs. A chase to reach the stairwells in time, to not be overtaken in the collapse of this floor. They couldn’t spare a second for something like this—this pitiful meeting to dwell in the feelings between them. Not when they were in an endless fight for their own survival.
He’s scooped up into an embrace by Yoo Joonghyuk. It should be gross. Entrails, slime, and sweat from Yoo Joonghyuk’s clothes stick onto him, but he has no energy to care. He’s gross too— chunks of demon flesh, blood, and dirt coating him—but Yoo Joonghyuk likely has the same thought process. Little things like these didn’t matter anymore. Not in the face of overwhelming warmth, of base human emotion. The urge to connect, to cry, to yearn. As social animals, this was their ultimate fate.
He wraps his arms around Yoo Joonghyuk’s broad back. The smell of iron, rot, and Yoo Joonghyuk surrounds him.
“You’re here, Joonghyuk-ah.” That’s all that matters. Yoo Joonghyuk’s presence. In nights like these, he had yearned for this dearly. He tightens his arms around Yoo Joonghyuk, and he feels the reciprocal tightening on his own body. The embrace is all-encompassing, warming in the cold of this lonely night.
“You too, Kim Dokja.”
Kim Dokja laughs. Yoo Joonghyuk hums in response. He buries his head into Kim Dokja’s shoulder. Kim Dokja does the same.
“How’s Mia? She’s okay, right? That gash looked quite nasty the last time I saw her.”
“She’s fine. We found something to cure her. [Phoenix Tears]. It removed her [Healing Resistance]. ”
“That’s good,” Kim Dokja smiles. It’s a real smile, unadulterated. It pulls at the corners of his mouth and makes him want to scream, cry, and laugh, all at the same time. The feeling floods every pore of his body, thrumming in tune with his heartbeat. “Then, how have you been, Joonghyuk-ah?”
Yoo Joonghyuk stays silent, their mingled breathing the only sounds between them. The mist covers them still, the trees breaking through, reaching high above towards the night sky. Then, he speaks.
“I…” He’s hesitant. Kim Dokja can hear it in his voice. He tightens his hold on Yoo Joonghyuk, a weak reassurance. “I missed you, Dokja.”
Kim Dokja laughs again. “Honest today, huh? I missed you, too, Joonghyuk-ah. I hope you’ve been doing well.”
“You fool,” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice is barely above a whisper. Even so, it’s deafeningly loud against his ears, the warmth of his breath brushing against them. Yoo Joonghyuk hugs him tighter, impossibly so. He mumbles something that Kim Dokja can’t quite catch. Then, his arms pull around Kim Dokja, stronger than before. Kim Dokja feels the breath knock out of his lungs, squeezed in an unavoidable hold.
“Ah, haha! Trying to kill me already?” Kim Dokja wheezes. The arms swallow him up completely, unwilling to let go. “Isn’t it quite early, Joonghyuk-ah? We still have the rest of the night to go, you know?”
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t grace him with a response. Only, the small breaths that he releases, inhaling and exhaling—alive. Kim Dokja’s heart feels too full. He looks over his shoulder, staring at nothing.
The timer to the collapse of this floor ticks down, an ever-present sound. Kim Dokja glances at it. The blue illuminates his face.
Time to floor collapse
0 days, 3 hours, 59 minutes, 23 seconds until collapse.
Almost four hours. That was enough time to do what they needed to do.
The night stretches, long in between them. Stars illuminate them where they stand, the murky black sky gleaning their forms.
“Shall we, Joonghyuk-ah?”
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, a ding shoots through Kim Dokja’s head. He looks to his messages.
Chat
Yoo Joonghyuk: Let’s start, Kim Dokja.
Kim Dokja needs no other approval.
Notification
Incarnation Kim Dokja has cast the skill Somnolence.
Notification
Somolence is active! The world has been ushered into a state of slumber.
Immediately, a muffled sensation blankets everything nearby, a calming shadow resting on the grounds of the land. The world has grown darker, settling into a peaceful quietness. Devoid of all life, human, alien, or animal—the only beings that remain are Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk. It’s like they’re the last two humans on Earth.
The night sky—rather, the constructed sky of this floor—still glimmers above them, the vastness of the universe exhilarating. It’s free from the light pollution that had plagued Seoul’s nights, the busy cars and traffic, the pseudo-stars that shone down upon all—satellites.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has cast the skill Cleanse.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has been cleansed of all impurities.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has cast the skill Cleanse.
Notification
Incarnation Kim Dokja has been cleansed of all impurities.
White flashes. A sudden cooling feeling washes over him, the blood, grime, and guts that had littered his body after Yoo Joonghyuk’s embrace suddenly vaporizing into nothing. Still in Yoo Joonghyuk’s arms, the mess on the black coat has also disappeared.
“Ah…” Kim Dokja’s own breath mists, the condensation catching the refulgence of the stars. “Thank you.”
“Though, you still haven’t answered my question,” Kim Dokja speaks again. “Your team. Has everyone been well?”
“Why ask questions you already know the answers to?” Yoo Joonghyuk says.
“And I thought your sour personality had finally improved after this floor,” Kim Dokja retorts. His words don’t carry any snark, though, softened and fuzzy around the edges. He’s just teasing. “Ah, it was naïve of me to assume so.”
“And I thought you would’ve finally learned to shut up.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s own reply is sharp too, but not in tone. Only the words carry any semblance of venom. They’ve each worn down their anger a long time ago. Whetted down by brief brushes that had tiptoed the line between life and death, experienced together. A biting response was just for old times’ sake.
Kim Dokja grins into the fabric of Yoo Joonghyuk’s coat, sinking his face into his shoulder. “Of course, I’m asking just to ask. Don’t you know about politeness, Yoo Joonghyuk? Small talk? Come on, humor me a little.”
All of this. It’s just talk. Meaningless, small talk. Talk to rid himself of the static buzzing in his head, the weight of imminent doom pressing down on him, bringing all worries of his to the surface. The thoughts of the next floor are suffocating.
But Yoo Joonghyuk speaks. Perhaps he also feels the same. This feeling of overwhelming doom. Perhaps it also floods his mind, all-consuming. Perhaps it has kept him awake at night too, worrying over his fellow team members. Maybe, just maybe, he’s thought about the remaining time they have left, together.
“They’ve been fine,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. “Lee Jihye has been well. She’s taken a new hobby in bothering Lee Hyunsung. Killing mobs and levelling up has taken her mind off of things. Lee Seolhwa’s doing okay, too. Strategizing for this floor has exhausted her a lot, but she’s had time to rest. The burden on her to buff and heal our team has been reduced. Our team members each have found their own skills to heal themselves. Shin Yoosung is still developing. She’s not back to her normal self. She has been better these days, though. Joyful. More active than on the eighth floor. Kim Namwoon has tried to cheer Lee Jihye up, too. He’s excited. For the next floor.”
Yoo Joonghyuk stops. He takes a breath, almost imperceptible. Kim Dokja waits, small joy scrunching the corners of his eyes, lighting up his face. After all this time, Yoo Joonghyuk had finally learned to speak his mind. This time to relax would likely be their last. A respite taken before a car crash.
“Everyone has been fine, Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk exhales. He feels his breath brush against his ear. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Hmm…” Kim Dokja waits, if only for dramatic effect. The static, drowning, still rumbles incessantly in his ear. The crashing rapids of the river in his mind—running, chasing, bubbling—continues, unfettered, his thoughts an endless torrent. These worries of his, he’ll shelve them. He’ll forget about them, until later. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“You, Joonghyuk-ah. How have you been?”
“I’ve collected loot, lots of it. [Phoenix Tears], [Darkened Claws], [Demon Eyes]. I am almost at Level 72. The highest in the entire dungeon.”
He’s avoiding it. But that won’t do.
“No, Joonghyuk-ah. How,” he coughs, breathing in the frigid air once more. “How have you been doing? Have you been well?”
Silence. Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t respond for a long time. He just stands there, melting into Kim Dokja’s embrace, sinking deeper. He buries his head into Kim Dokja’s shoulder again. Sounds of breathing fill the silence. A faint thump, thump of his heartbeat can be heard. Then, a notification.
Chat
Yoo Joonghyuk: …
The blue stares into Kim Dokja’s eyes, drilling itself a home in his cornea. Another ding breaks through. A new message.
Chat
Yoo Joonghyuk: I’m tired, Kim Dokja.
Yoo Joonghyuk: I’m so tired.
Kim Dokja reads his texts. He reads them once, twice. Then, again. Over and over and over again, burning them into his retinas. His mouth wavers.
Notification
The passive skill, Mental Block, has reduced a portion of your anguish.
Yoo Joonghyuk shifts. His head is completely consumed in Kim Dokja’s shoulder.
He buries his face into Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder too. He has no care for the wetness he smears upon the black fabric. The snot he tracks upon the newly cleaned garments. The ugliness of his face, contorting into an expression he’d be afraid to show anyone. A reply is sent, short.
Chat
Kim Dokja: Me too, Joonghyuk-ah. Me too.
He breathes, stifling his sniffing. Yoo Joonghyuk takes equally labored breaths into his own shoulder.
If they stay like this, tangled up in each other’s embrace for a little longer than necessary, it’s no one else’s business but their own.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed by the time they separate. As soon as the weight of Yoo Joonghyuk’s arms depart, he already feels himself missing the familiar warmth.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has cast the skill Cleanse.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has been cleansed of all impurities.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has cast the skill Cleanse.
Notification
Incarnation Kim Dokja has been cleansed of all impurities.
Thankfully, Yoo Joonghyuk cleans up the mess that he’d made on his shoulder and his face before he’s able to see it. Granted, Yoo Joonghyuk had probably made a similar mess on his own shoulder. Well, it’s not like it matters. They both know, something like this was too embarrassing to acknowledge afterwards.
He’s afraid to give thanks, knowing that his voice would likely come out hoarse and cracking. But Yoo Joonghyuk likely knows. None of this matters in the grand scheme of things—these small gestures to protect his own pride, the tightrope that they walk formed by their own feelings, the little moments that they’ve shared together, tucked away in the corners of their minds.
They’ve backed off far enough from each other that Kim Dokja can finally take a glance at Yoo Joonghyuk’s cleaned face. The scars there, they swipe and zigzag across what was once smooth skin. Yoo Joonghyuk stares at him with the one remaining eye that he has, his right eye. His gaze is heavy. The left one remains closed, a jagged scar intersecting his brow to the cheekbone. The eyelid protecting his damaged eye flutters. His chest hurts at the sight.
This was all unnecessary. The pain that they’d gone through. Toiling and toiling from floor-to-floor. No time to rest in between the searches for the stairwells. A marathon, the finish line being their inevitable deaths. Seeing the physical evidence of his burdens, Kim Dokja has to suppress the overwhelming urge to give up.
Why do they have to suffer like this? Why had the dokkaebi come to repossess their world? Why were they forced into this endless fight for survival, all for it to amount to nothing in the end?
Fighting and fighting, just to die. It wouldn’t take a genius to realize that this was entirely futile. That placing this much effort—putting this fight in charge of his emotions—it was stupid. More than stupid. It’d all be useless in the end.
But… moments like these made him rethink that. Glancing at Yoo Joonghyuk’s face, there’s an endless sorrow contained in his singular eye. Indescribable in any number of words, in any conceivable human language. It swirls and swirls, countless eddies, like stars in the Milky Way. Such despondency, it’s terrifying. It eats at his own soul, seeing Yoo Joonghyuk like this. But he can’t look away. No, he can’t look away at all.
He understands it. The weight of being a leader. Of worrying for fellow party members. Of ensuring everyone’s survival. It sinks, settling deep into his bones. He has to be on guard at all times, wary of everyone’s state. Encouraging, small smiles and minute movements, just to make sure nobody has fallen into a similar despair. The despair of giving up. A pervasive nihilism that could destroy the foundation of their party.
They had to keep going. No matter what.
Small laughs shared between him and the company had made it worth it. Ruffling the hair on Lee Gilyoung’s and Shin Yoosung’s little heads. Bantering with Han Sooyoung, annoying her to his own amusement. Being nagged to no end by Jung Heewon, Lee Seolhwa, and the others. Spending time fighting alongside, arguing, doing nothing in particular with Yoo Joonghyuk.
These were experiences of his own, food for his soul. They’d matter little to other people, yes, but they kept him going. With all of this, with his company members, they were family. There was too much at stake to die. There is too much to live for.
He doesn’t notice the sounds of footsteps in the mud, advancing. Yoo Joonghyuk moves closer. Kim Dokja barely has any time to react before a calloused hand rubs his left cheek, where he had recently scarred it after a short scuffle. Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand is warm. He sinks into that feeling.
“Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice rumbles in the quiet of the night. “Does it hurt?”
Kim Dokja smiles, an unlucky smile. “I should be asking you that question. Your new scars, they…” Kim Dokja swallows the lump in his throat. “They look painful. But, no. It doesn’t hurt.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s sole sorrowful eye refracts dazzling starlight. Kim Dokja finds himself entranced by such beauty. It blinks, closing briefly. Then, Kim Dokja feels something brush against him. Against his lips.
A soft feeling, one that Kim Dokja can’t avoid. Yoo Joonghyuk’s rough lips press, unsure at first. Like a newborn faun taking its first steps. Then, they push closer. Kim Dokja flutters his own eyes shut as he leans in.
Soon, it deepens, more than either of them expects it to. Yoo Joonghyuk parts his lips for a moment, breaching tongue against Kim Dokja’s lips. It’s a small request for access, shy. Kim Dokja can’t help but smile. He obliges.
His own tongue intermingles, breath mixing with breath in the bitter air. It blows against his face, condensation forming, uncomfortably warm. A heat spreads outwards, from his core onto his skin, blooming vibrant red onto his cheeks. Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand on his face continues to rub at the scar, as if trying to wipe it away. Over and over, featherlight strokes. The gentle touch melts him.
This is what it means to be alive. To continue living and fighting for what matters to him.
It’s breathless, this feeling. Yoo Joonghyuk’s tongue keeps prodding at his own, an overpowering heat spreading from him. Cracking open his eyes, a minuscule amount, a healthy flush has begun to adorn Yoo Joonghyuk’s face, too. It makes him glow under the light of the false night.
Yoo Joonghyuk continues to explore his mouth in an increased fervor. Kim Dokja can barely keep up with the pace he’s set. It’s as though he’s trying to eat him whole. To keep him here for eternity, breathless and wanting. To make sure that he’s actually alive.
Kim Dokja’s the first to break from the kiss, panting. “Ah, hah…” It takes him a little longer to bounce back from his kiss, his thoughts muddled. He catches his breath, in no rush at all. It’s okay to rest, to be slow in the long stretches of this night. They have plenty of time, after all. He looks up again, his gaze in full view of Yoo Joonghyuk’s face.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s been looking at him all this time. Staring down in anticipation. Waiting for a response. A crimson paints his scarred face, dotting the tips of his ears. His own exhales waft out, blowing warmth against Kim Dokja’s forehead. It flicks at sweaty locks of hair, a gust that pushes it into his eyes. Kim Dokja blinks the hair away, basking in the moment.
He was waiting, Kim Dokja realizes. Patient for Kim Dokja to recover. He’s always been waiting. Sparing small glances his way, even while caring for his own. Kim Dokja too. They’ve both been waiting for this moment for too long.
Kim Dokja doesn’t wait a second longer before lunging back at Yoo Joonghyuk. A kiss against his jawline, first, brushing against the roughness there. There’s stubble yet to sprout. There are pathways, winding roads of scarred skin. A history of hurt and trauma.
They won’t be washed away by soft touch, but that doesn’t mean Kim Dokja can’t soothe some of the pain. Small pecks, first and foremost. Lovingly, slowly. Yoo Joonghyuk takes it all in, arms wrapped around Kim Dokja’s waist as he does so. A small exhale exits from Yoo Joonghyuk’s mouth. Almost a laugh. Kim Dokja can’t suppress the grin that pulls at his own mouth.
He continues peppering kisses along the line of his jaw. They’re inconsequential, small. They spread warmth through his own lips, Yoo Joonghyuk’s skin reddening at contact. The sight is too alluring.
Giving into the moment, Kim Dokja nips at the skin on his jawline. A tiny bite, blooming a nick of red. A mark to signify belonging. Yoo Joonghyuk only hisses slightly at the feeling before exhaling the pain out. Kim Dokja can hear it in the way he breathes. Yoo Joonghyuk feels content. Truly, completely content.
“Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. The timbre of it vibrates through Kim Dokja. “Let me do it too.”
“Okay.”
Kim Dokja parts from Yoo Joonghyuk’s jawline. Staring into the boundless depths of his eye again, Kim Dokja feels his mouth go dry, his jaw slack. He tilts his head, a hand coming to part his clothes from his neck. He grants full access to the skin there.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s open eye blinks, half-lidded. Staring down at Kim Dokja, he smiles.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s head moves close, closer. Warmth wraps around him like a blanket. He feels Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips press against his skin, small kitten licks. Pecking like a newborn bird. Yoo Joonghyuk’s hair brushes against his jaw, ticklish.
“It tickles,” Kim Dokja mumbles. “Hey, move your head a little, you brat.”
“Mmm…” Yoo Joonghyuk shifts, a teeny, tiny amount, but it’s not enough.
“Move, move, ahaha! Stop, it tickles!”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips shape against his skin. He moves his head to the left, the hair finally away from Kim Dokja’s vision. A sharp nick against Kim Dokja’s skin causes him to hiss, too, but it’s a pain that disperses throughout his body. When Yoo Joonghyuk parts, it throbs rhythmically. It’s strangely pleasant.
A pain that doesn’t bring him close to death. Closer to a pinprick than anything that could be described as pain, after what he’s gone through. Another reminder that he’s actually alive.
His hand comes up to ruffle Yoo Joonghyuk’s hair. Burying his hands in those locks, feeling the thrilling heat that emanates from Yoo Joonghyuk’s head. Mussing up his handsome looks. As Yoo Joonghyuk backs away, his eyes seem a bit lighter. His hair is completely messed up, making him look like an idiot. Kim Dokja snorts.
Still, he would be lying if he said he didn’t look handsome, even with his hair all screwed up. Yoo Joonghyuk, ever perceptive, realizes. Annoyance flickers across his expression, but it’s more a trace of a feeling than anything serious. His own hand comes and combs through his fair, fixing it. A motion that has Kim Dokja admiring the shape of his hands, parting the endless void of his own hair. Soon, it’s like nothing ever happened.
But the twin marks that adorn their necks still remain. They’ll remain, but…
He pulls his collar to the side, showing the hickey off to an audience of only one.
“Joonghyuk-ah, these’ll disappear when you cast any of your healing skills.”
“We don’t have to heal. Not until the next floor.”
“That’s for you to say. Who knows? What if one of us gets heavily injured before we make it in time to a stairwell? We have to ensure—”
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk warns. Not now. Not in the peace that they’ve found themselves in, thoughts finally away from the scenarios.
Kim Dokja understands. He gestures, zipping his mouth up, his lips upturned. His eyes scrunch. Yoo Joonghyuk’s eye softens in return.
“If that happens,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, “then I’ll just give you another one.”
Kim Dokja laughs, unbridled. It echoes through the thinning trees, the boundless night. The eerieness of it all, of this entire floor—the barren lands filled with only mud, dead trees, and an endless fake sky—it vanishes in the face of the moment.
Here, it’s just them. Just Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk. Free of mobs, of this absurd dungeon. Free of slashing and slashing and slashing, endlessly, muscle memory reduced to cruelty and gore. Free of everything this tower had to bring, turning people against each other. Focused solely on progression, with no care for others.
They had recovered the humanity they had carelessly thrown away on prior floors. Bits and pieces of emotion—human joy, laughter, sadness, pain. All brought back into focus after being shelved away. In this moment, it was just them.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s face comes closer. He blows a stray breath straight into Kim Dokja’s own face. Kim Dokja squeezes his eyes shut.
“Hey!”
Yoo Joonghyuk chuckles, low. His face lowers, so much so that there’s barely a centimeter between their eyes. Then, again, his lips meet lips, soft.
Again, Kim Dokja falls to Yoo Joonghyuk’s whims. A familiar rhythm, set in stone. It beats along with the tempo of their hearts, coursing blood through their veins. A tongue, mingling. An endless dance, over and over. Waltzing from the roof of the mouth to the sides of the cheeks to each individual tooth. Here and there and everywhere.
It’s messy. It’s almost a fight. Kim Dokja feels his teeth clack against Yoo Joonghyuk’s own numerous times, his nostrils exhaling sharply as their tongues plunge into each other’s mouths, over and over and over again. The heat and crimson flowering against Kim Dokja’s face is almost unbearable, but he won’t be the one to surrender first this time.
Again and again, they kiss and kiss and kiss until there’s no place in each other’s mouths that they haven’t explored. Parting, gasping lungfuls of air are taken between the spaces of the kiss, but they’re not enough. Still, their need has become overwhelming—the contact between them enough to sustain.
Yoo Joonghyuk advances forward, his face leaning down for a better angle. He pushes Kim Dokja back, back, backwards on the empty, muddy field. Kim Dokja, hazy, still manages to sidestep, legs almost tripping over each other. His foot manages to find hold in the sticky mud, a man blinded by the constant barrage of kisses. Hazy, eyes blurred, his tongue continues to mesh with Yoo Joonghyuk’s own, their mouths welding together.
Finally, Yoo Joonghyuk separates. What’s left between them is nothing more than a shared string of saliva. The only sign that they had been together to begin with. It glistens in the moonlight.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips are enticing, red and slightly bitten. Swollen only to those who’d pay close attention to his face. Kim Dokja’s own were likely in a similar state. They were wet, uncomfortably so, but he could bear it.
His tongue comes to lap at his own lips. Kim Dokja opens his eyes, blinking.
Yoo Joonghyuk pants, gulping the night air down. It’s barely audible to Kim Dokja.
He can’t hear anything with the sound of blood rushing through his ears. His own heart pounds against his ribcage. An excitement thrums underneath his skin, electric. Catching his breath, Yoo Joonghyuk presses up a knee against Kim Dokja’s crotch. A hiss is earned in response.
“Not yet, Joonghyuk-ah,” Kim Dokja says, keeping his voice stable. He’s trying to act unaffected, but he’s not sure if he’s pulling it off. Yoo Joonghyuk surely sees through his façade, but he doesn’t care. “Who knew you’d be so impatient today, huh?”
“Dokja,” Yoo Joonghyuk groans. His tone is laced with traces of a whine. He presses his body against Kim Dokja’s, and he can immediately tell why Yoo Joonghyuk is acting so needy. The unavoidable presence of it pokes against his thigh.
“Wait, okay?” Kim Dokja grabs onto the cuff of Yoo Joonghyuk’s coat. The black fabric is smooth, hot from Yoo Joonghyuk’s body heat. He looks around the field, noticing a tree nearby. The trunk looks sturdy, the branches holding the moon.
There. They’d be able to do it there.
“Follow me,” Kim Dokja says. It’s not really a suggestion when Kim Dokja has his hand firmly grasped onto the fabric of Yoo Joonghyuk’s cuff. He drags him, Yoo Joonghyuk obediently following him like a leashed dog. He doesn’t question Kim Dokja, no. Not at all. A quiet thread of trust binds them together.
As soon as they make it there, Kim Dokja pushes Yoo Joonghyuk against the tree. His back hits it with a small thunk, his head resting against the rough bark. Yoo Joonghyuk releases a small puff at the impact. A sound, waiting. In anticipation of Kim Dokja’s next move.
Kim Dokja doesn’t make him wait long. No, not long at all. He’s impatient too, of course. His hand comes up, a small brush against Yoo Joonghyuk’s cheek. Combing over scarred tissue again. Then, on his tippy-toes, Kim Dokja places kisses. Here, there, and everywhere. Any place with scars.
He makes it to his scarred eye, placing a featherlight kiss against the closed eyelid. He pecks at it again and again, ensuring minimal pressure. Ghosting over it with only his breath. Yoo Joonghyuk’s other eye flitters
“Enough, Dokja.”
“Hm?” Kim Dokja makes a curious sound. “What, does it hurt?”
“No,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. “Just, go. Proceed. This… is unnecessary.”
“Hmm… Our Joonghyuk-ie is acting shy now, huh?” Kim Dokja smiles against the rough of his scarred skin. The bristly feeling of Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyebrow pricks at his cheek. It’s ticklish. “This must be a once-in-a-lifetime event. Don’t you think so too?”
He trails kisses down his face once more, the skin growing warmer. He kisses the side of his face, where his sideburns start. Then, his lips meet the beginning of his ears. They’re warm, almost fully red. The dings of chat notifications go off. Blue lights up his eyes as he looks over to Yoo Joonghyuk’s messages.
Chat
Yoo Joonghyuk: It’s okay, Dokja.
Yoo Joonghyuk: You don’t need to comfort me.
Yoo Joonghyuk: Thank you.
The corner of Yoo Joonghyuk’s open eye is still lined with sorrow. Half-lidded, it flits shut. Almost indiscernible, but sorrow nonetheless. In a blink, it disappears. Gone in the mist of the night.
Chat
Yoo Joonghyuk: Just go.
Yoo Joonghyuk: I can’t take it anymore.
Kim Dokja feels the problem pulsing against the fabric of his pants, burning onto the skin of his thigh. It really is time.
He places another peck, square on Yoo Joonghyuk’s lips. Yoo Joonghyuk’s eye scrunches shut. Cute.
“Then, I’ll start.”
Yoo Joonghyuk nods at Kim Dokja’s words. The time had come. Their last rendezvous together, underneath the midnight sky. The still night whispers one last gust of wind between them. Kim Dokja shivers.
Kim Dokja grapples at Yoo Joonghyuk’s pants, inexpertly unbuttoning them. He feels the weight and heat of the length press against him, even through the thick fabric of his pants. His palm sweats, his motions growing impatient and rapid as he tries, and fails, to get Yoo Joonghyuk’s pants off. Yoo Joonghyuk hisses.
A hand comes on top of Kim Dokja, guiding his own to the buttons, the zipper. The sound of it unzipping is muffled, but still too loud. It bulges against the black fabric of his underwear too, a wet stain having already dampened the cloth.
“You too, Dokja.”
“Hm? Oh.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s referring to Kim Dokja’s own issue, of course. How considerate, this bastard. Kim Dokja scrambles to unfasten his own pants, getting them off quicker than when he had been jostling with Yoo Joonghyuk’s own. Only then does he realize the numbing weather, chilly air burrowing into his skin in tiny pricks. He shivers, again.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has used the item Portable Campfire.
Flame flickers into existence close to them, though far enough away from the tree that there’s no risk of wildfire. Crackles fill the air, embers dissipating into the dark sky. A warmth fills his body.
Yoo Joonghyuk wastes no time at all afterwards. He parts his underwear, pulling his length out, throbbing angrily. He grabs at Kim Dokja’s too, eliciting a sound of surprise from his lips. Yoo Joonghyuk snorts.
Kim Dokja’s length slaps against his own shirt as it’s pulled out from the confines of his underwear. He hisses. His cock presses against Yoo Joonghyuk’s own. It dwarfs his in size. The heat between them is maddening.
Yoo Joonghyuk pulls out something, a small cylindrical container. Kim Dokja examines it. [Weak Healing Salve]. A healing item obtained from lootboxes in the lower floors. This item has long since been rendered useless, given the larger, looming threats they’ve been forced to face. Still, it could be used for this.
“Uh, is this safe to use?” Even in his haze, Kim Dokja knows better than to put random dungeon items on his body. Especially on his nether region. His beloved jewels.
“We’ll find out.”
Yoo Joonghyuk, this bastard, doesn’t wait. He pops open the container, smothering the contents of it all over his hand. It’s a clear, oily substance. Almost gel-like. He rubs it all over his own cock first, small strokes tracing from vein-to-vein. The container is thrown somewhere, off to the side. Then, his hand comes around Kim Dokja’s length.
“Ngh… ah…” Kim Dokja parts his lips, small groans from the contact of Yoo Joonghyuk’s calloused hand. He takes it in, the friction against his palm, the ridges of his fingertips against the veins. He bucks his hips into the devouring warmth. Kim Dokja feels close already.
“Don’t come yet, Dokja.”
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one whose cock was being stroked, fingers prodding against the head, swiping expertly. Yoo Joonghyuk was a damn bastard, but he couldn’t deny it. His technique was excellent. Small motions against his head, then down to the base. Everything about him is perfect. Kim Dokja’s heart feels full, his feelings burgeoning. Yoo Joonghyuk was too good to him, too good. Someone like him… he deserved none of this.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s continuous strokes slow down, his breath grazing Kim Dokja’s cheek and ear. He nips, hesitant, on Kim Dokja’s flesh. Marking it all over again, red small marks. A pure claim, possession beyond all else. It burns all other concepts and meandering thoughts from his mind. He is here, right now, and nowhere else. Not in the past, not in the future. Solely in the present, this moment with Yoo Joonghyuk.
He can’t help but keen as Yoo Joonghyuk stops. His hand releases from Kim Dokja’s cock.
“Mmm… why?” Kim Dokja looks up at him with blurred eyes and a buzzed mind. “Why’d you stop?”
He gets his answer soon enough. Yoo Joonghyuk’s own length has somehow grown redder, looking frustratingly angry while illuminated by the flame nearby. Kim Dokja gulps, the heat from Yoo Joonghyuk’s burning gaze hotter than any fire. He presses his cock against Kim Dokja’s own. Then, he takes them both into a calloused palm.
It’s slick with the [Weak Healing Salve] that he’d applied on both of them earlier. Still, it burns hot. Not as hot as the skin of their lengths, though. They both needed this. They knew.
Kim Dokja braces himself, his hands pushing against the bark of the tree, caging Yoo Joonghyuk in. The strokes together, they grow in fervor, spontaneously rubbing spots on him that make him buck his hips. In those moments, he pushes Yoo Joonghyuk back, further against the tree, like he’s trying to make him phase through solid matter.
The weight of Yoo Joonghyuk’s cock on his own grounds him in reality. Pressing, pressing, constant contact. Groans and grunts and pleasure beyond what his mind can conceive. Wrung out adeptly by Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand.
It’s no surprise he comes quickly. Making a mess of Yoo Joonghyuk’s clothes.
“Sorry,” Kim Dokja mumbles, head lolling to the side. His palms dig further into the tree bark, his legs weak and trembling after climax. Slow, shaking breaths are taken, calming himself.
Yoo Joonghyuk thankfully releases his soft, weeping cock. He grunts and groans as he fucks into his own palm, chasing for sweet, sweet release. Kim Dokja sees the sweat that beads on his forehead, his face flushed beautifully red. With nothing more than a sharp inhale, he comes into his own hand.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has cast the skill Cleanse.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has been cleansed of all impurities.
The come in his hand and on his clothes suddenly vanish with the cast of the spell. Deep, shaking breaths resonate throughout his chest. The campfire crackles nearby, bright orange shining upon them.
The false sky, adorned with stars, twinkles gently, a backdrop for their emotions. All of this—it’s a mockery of the Seoul skyline, a mockery of their world, but… in the moment, it’s beautiful. Wholly, unfathomably beautiful.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eye, half-lidded, stares back at Kim Dokja’s. He releases another breath. Kim Dokja gives him a lazy smile, boneless.
Unfortunately, the system doesn’t recognize the remains of the [Weak Healing Salve] on Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand as an impurity. It sticks there, covering his palm in a slick, oily substance.
“We’re not finished, Dokja.”
“I didn’t say we were,” Kim Dokja murmurs. “The night is still young.”
At that, Yoo Joonghyuk presses a quick peck to Kim Dokja’s lips. Then, Yoo Joonghyuk leaves a singular oily handprint on Kim Dokja’s shoulder as he flips their positions. It happens quicker than he can process. Kim Dokja’s back lightly thuds against the tree, cushioned by Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand placed against the small of his back.
In any other situation, he’d be cursing Yoo Joonghyuk out for leaving a mess on him. For not giving any warning before doing this. But with the sight of Yoo Joonghyuk imprinted into his mind—his scarred face, an eye that captures an incomprehensible amount of misery, flickering in orange, red, and yellow of fire—he finds the words catching inside his throat. Trapped to the side, melting, forgotten in his flesh.
In the face of something like this, he can’t bring himself say anything.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s hands come to pull his pants down lower, giving access to more of his soft flesh. The oily substance tracks onto his thigh, the brief cold of the night still rushing onto his legs.
“Give some warning, Joonghyuk-ah.” His words come out slurred.
Yoo Joonghyuk, of course, doesn’t listen. He lifts Kim Dokja up. Kim Dokja yelps in response.
“Ugh…” he says, blinking. His eyes are bleary, but they clearly catch Yoo Joonghyuk’s dark gaze. It burns a hole through his face, unfettered want dripping from his eye. Kim Dokja feels the signature press of his cock against his inner thigh again, already at full-mast.
“I’m going in,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. An arm supports his weight, holding him by the legs. His other hand, the one with a mess, presses against his rim insistently. Two fingers catch against his entrance, tracing circles around it. It prods, spreading him open. A slow, slow opening, as if afraid he’d break.
“Joonghyuk-ah,” Kim Dokja mumbles, “you don’t have to be so gentle.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Yoo Joonghyuk proceeds with his slow strokes, barely breaching.
“I have over fifty stat points in strength, Joonghyuk-ah.”
Yoo Joonghyuk ignores him, opting to continue at this unhurried pace, pressing, prodding. Finally, he pushes against something in Kim Dokja, something that makes him jolt.
“Uh…” It elicits a sound between confusion and pleasure from Kim Dokja’s lips. Yoo Joonghyuk takes that as a sign to keep going, to press at it again and again. Kim Dokja’s toes curl inside of his shoes. Moans are wrung out of him, even through stubbornly bitten lips. It only fuels the fire inside of Yoo Joonghyuk.
But this wasn’t enough. This width, everything about it. Kim Dokja needs more.
Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t seem to know that, though. Or he’s resolved to tease Kim Dokja, over and over, instead of giving him the pleasure that he seeks. Kim Dokja’s starting to believe the latter statement.
With another press to his prostate, Kim Dokja clenches down hard on the fingers inside of him, coming onto his shirt. It splatters, black dress shirt and his white coat marred with sin.
“Ugh… h-hah, ngh…” he breathes. Yoo Joonghyuk only gives him a second to catch his breath before pressing again. Kim Dokja’s legs jolt in Yoo Joonghyuk’s hold. His back is pushed further into the trunk of the tree. Kim Dokja’s body betrays him completely, hardening fully again as soon as Yoo Joonghyuk moves his damn fingers.
“No more,” Kim Dokja begs. “No more—ngh—no more fingers.”
“Okay, Dokja.” Yoo Joonghyuk’s tone is awfully smug. Kim Dokja wants to wipe that damn smugness out of him completely, but he can’t. His arms have grown too weak after two consecutive climaxes.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s calloused fingers pop out with an obscene squelch, one that, embarrassingly, makes his cock twitch. His hole winks, gaping. The feeling of emptiness courses throughout him, uncomfortable. Something in his body begs for more, for something more filling—for Yoo Joonghyuk’s fingers to come back. Kim Dokja curses his greedy body for wanting so much.
As usual, Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t make him wait for long. The heavy weight of Yoo Joonghyuk’s cock presses against his rim, drawing a whimper from him. The head spreads his rim to the side, catching on it. Kim Dokja groans. His legs grow increasingly sore in Yoo Joonghyuk’s hold.
“Like this?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks. He’s impatient, too, but something stops him from proceeding. From burying his cock deep into Kim Dokja’s overwhelming heat. From fucking Kim Dokja, claiming him and ruining him for good. A worry that overrides all other feelings—even the intense feeling of desire.
“I told you, Joonghyuk-ah,” Kim Dokja says. “You don’t need to be gentle.”
At that, Yoo Joonghyuk finally breaches.
“Fuck!” Kim Dokja bites his lips to prevent any further sounds from coming out. The intrusion is quick, hurried. Not soft at all. It pushes him deep into the bark of the tree. The tree's roots hold, but its barren branches shake.
Kim Dokja feels his mouth open, dumbly, as he takes in the feeling. The invasion, quick, pressing up against everything inside of him. The walls of his flesh, each ridge explored and claimed. All of his body belongs solely to Yoo Joonghyuk.
Yoo Joonghyuk groans, too. Deep into his ear. He leans into Kim Dokja’s shoulder, breaths quickening as he plunges in, fully. Bottoming out, Kim Dokja’s mouth remains open, gaping, clenching down on Yoo Joonghyuk involuntarily.
“So…” Yoo Joonghyuk grits his teeth. “S-so tight. Kim Dokja, loosen up.”
“Uh…? H-hah, ngh, mmm… what?”
Yoo Joonghyuk retracts, quick, before plunging in deep again. A single thrust that shakes the tree some more. Kim Dokja can’t even worry about the tree breaking or of falling, his legs still held up by Yoo Joonghyuk. He can only focus on the shaking, erratic thrusts of Yoo Joonghyuk’s hips, of his cock burning through him.
Kim Dokja’s balance slips, his head leaning back onto the bark. It digs into his skull, but the sensation of Yoo Joonghyuk’s cock overpowers all else. It spreads through his core, making him forget everything. Nothing, nothing else matters.
His legs are readjusted by the arm supporting him. He’s pushed deeper into the tree, his legs fully in the air now. He makes a sound of confusion, the feeling of falling imminent. But everything blurs. The world, seen through tears, is unfocused. A camera lens, stained with fingerprints.
Bent nearly in half against the tree, Kim Dokja feels his eyes roll back into their sockets. He’s pushed farther and farther against it, his shirt and coat hiking up with the friction. Even through several layers of fabric, the rough texture of tree bark digs into his skin. A wetness seeps from his lips, and he’s forced to jolt as drool drips directly onto his chin. He’s too fucked out to say anything. Accidentally, he opens up the chat to Yoo Joonghyuk.
Chat
Kim Dokja: F
Kim Dokja: Qwrifjalfgt
Kim Dokja: Fels goo
Kim Dokja: Feels good
His eyes close again, blurred by unshed tears. Yoo Joonghyuk grunts, pushing in harder. Kim Dokja’s legs are bent so far inwards that they feel as though they’re about to snap. He’s folded in half, nothing more than Yoo Joonghyuk’s cocksleeve. Another buzz through his mind signifies another successful gibberish text sent to Yoo Joonghyuk. A string of nonsense characters.
Chat
Kim Dokja: Addffffffffff
He gasps, gulping and whimpering. Yoo Joonghyuk leans down, face flushed. He makes quick work, one long lick across the string of drool dripping from Kim Dokja’s mouth. Kim Dokja releases a sound of surprise.
“Mmph!”
Another buzz, a notification this time. Yoo Joonghyuk, that sneaky bastard.
Chat
Yoo Joonghyuk: You’re so fucking tight around me you keep squeezing down so hard
Yoo Joonghyuk: So so tight it's like you’re begging for more Kim Dokja you keep clenching
Chat
Kim Dokja: Joonghyuk-ah fffddfffggggg
Fuck. Yoo Joonghyuk, this fucker. He has to close the chat, he has to. Yoo Joonghyuk keeps saying nonsensical, dirty things. Whispering pure filth into his ears—into his mind. But he can’t, he’s forgotten how. All trace of knowledge and thought has vaporized from his brain, fucked out of him by Yoo Joonghyuk’s girth.
He can’t focus on anything else, other than Yoo Joonghyuk’s rapid thrusts, in and out and in and out of his sloppy hole. Pressing incessantly against his prostate, making him see stars. His vision whites out, jolts of pleasure wracking through his entire body. He comes again, spurting onto the mess of his shirt, all wrinkled now.
Another message. More coherent, this time. Kim Dokja can’t keep his eyes off of it.
Chat
Yoo Joonghyuk: You like this, don’t you? You whore. Kim Dokja, you were made for this. Made to take my cock. Just sit there and be all pretty. I’ll fuck you and plug you up until you can’t leave.
The words spoken directly into his mind, they’re too much. He’s lost his grip on human language, but these dirty words still send shocks throughout his lewd body. Zipping here and there, pure static. His cock squirts a little on his clothes, his dress shirt. Clear, watery fluid. Yoo Joonghyuk continues to thrust, jackhammering in. It should be embarrassing, it really should be, but his thoughts. They’re all jumbled, mixed up together. Kim Dokja can’t focus on anything.
As his eyes roll back into his head for the nth time, Kim Dokja focuses too long on something. Something he shouldn’t have.
Notification
Incarnation Kim Dokja has cast the skill Electrification.
Immediately, the air is charged, sparks flying. Lightning strikes all around them, caging them in. The sounds of thunder fill the sky. Notifications ring across his ears, each ding signifying the successful kill of a mob. He’s still dazed, everything blurry and unfocused. Yoo Joonghyuk just fucks into him harder, a constant press against his prostate.
Another notification hits him. He can’t read it, his eyes completely blurred by tears, pupils blown out.
Notification
Incarnation Kim Dokja has levelled up to Level 70!
At the same time, Yoo Joonghyuk sends him another message.
Chat
Yoo Joonghyuk: I won’t let you escape, Kim Dokja. I won’t let you die.
Burying as deep in him as possible, bottoming out completely. Yoo Joonghyuk floods his insides, a warmth spreading outwards from his core. Plugging him up, Kim Dokja can’t suppress a moan at the feeling of being completely filled. A complementary groan rumbles right beside his ear. He comes again, clenching down on Yoo Joonghyuk, a vice grip.
He doesn’t want to let go, no. It would be nice if… if he could just stay here, forever. Forever, in Yoo Joonghyuk’s arms, basking in the afterglow.
Slow breaths, tangled together, just like this. For all of eternity, till the end of time, the heat death of the universe.
Kim Dokja feels his thoughts come back to him, the aftershocks still buzzing under his skin. His legs feel like jelly, his arms even worse. All strength was sapped out of his body by the bastard holding him up. Kim Dokja can still feel the flaccid cock inside of him, come dripping out slowly onto the ground. He curses.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has cast the skill Rejuvinate.
Notification
Incarnation Kim Dokja has been afflicted with the status effect Rejuvinated.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has cast the skill Cleanse.
Notification
Incarnation Kim Dokja has been cleansed of all impurities.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has cast the skill Fae’s Embrace.
Notification
Incarnation Kim Dokja has been cured of all injuries, ailments, and negative status effects.
Suddenly, strength returns to his body. He feels squeaky clean again. The little aches of pain on his neck, in his nether regions, and everywhere else has dissipated. The bounciness in his joints has returned, but a lazy sensation overtakes him. He looks to the side and sees the notifications.
Ah… Wasn’t this a bit overkill? Though he did feel much better, so it would be unreasonable to complain.
“Mmm… Joonghyuk-ah, let me get up. Let’s put on our clothes.”
Yoo Joonghyuk makes a sound of agreement. His arm untangles from Kim Dokja’s legs. He lifts him up with both hands, plopping Kim Dokja onto the ground, feet-first. Kim Dokja releases a puff from his lips as he impacts the ground.
He scrambles to fasten up his pants, pulling his underwear back over. His hands are still shaky from the climax only minutes ago. Sounds of Yoo Joonghyuk jostle nearby, too. He’s struggling with the same issue. Even while desperately trying to pull up his pants, Yoo Joonghyuk somehow looks like a supermodel posing for an underwear ad.
He’s broken out of his thoughts again by Yoo Joonghyuk suddenly picking him up. Carrying him, his back collapses into Yoo Joonghyuk’s hold.
“Hey!” Kim Dokja cries. “What are you doing!? My legs are fine now. I can walk.”
“We have to go, Dokja.”
“Are you listening to me? Hey! Joonghyuk-ah! I can walk…”
His pleas are ignored as Yoo Joonghyuk continues walking with him in his arms. He looks at the countdown again.
Time to floor collapse
0 days, 0 hours, 56 minutes, 33 seconds until collapse.
Wow. He didn’t realize how much time had passed. They really had taken their damn sweet time with this.
With him in his arms, Yoo Joonghyuk manages to put the campfire back into his inventory. Then, he begins his trek.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s footsteps continue to resonate in the marshy field. The sky is still dark, an eternal night. Soon, the collapse of the floor would end it. They’d be in a new place, another environment constructed by the tower. Fake, an imitation of human construction, buildings, and technology.
He glances up, Yoo Joonghyuk’s sharp jawline in view once more. His eye, lazy, carries some sort of melancholy. The thoughts of everything have come rushing back. They couldn’t put it aside anymore. Against his own better judgement, Kim Dokja sends a message to Yoo Joonghyuk.
Chat
Kim Dokja: You know.
Kim Dokja: It’s okay to let go sometimes, Joonghyuk-ah.
Kim Dokja: We’ll make it out. Don’t doubt this. We’ll save the world.
He doesn’t expect a response. This rambling of his, it was nonsense. Part of it was to soothe his own unease, after all. But a ding courses through his skull, sounding.
Chat
Yoo Joonghyuk: Lee Jihye… Na Bori, she…
That single text. Kim Dokja could feel the despair radiating off of it. Waves and waves of desolation, an endless tsunami. He swallows, his mouth dry.
Notification
The passive skill, Mental Block, has reduced a portion of your anguish.
Yoo Joonghyuk had softened a lot, Kim Dokja realizes. He had hardened through survival. Compressed down to base instinct, a diamond of human emotion. But his innards remained soft, mushy. He still maintained his humanity, even through the loss of Na Bori. Even through Shin Yoosung’s worsening state.
Kim Dokja had changed, too. Whittled down by the threat of constant danger. They’ve all been changed by this tower. For better or for worse.
Kim Dokja looks to the chat again. It’s idle, Yoo Joonghyuk’s breaths coming slow above him.
Chat
Kim Dokja: It’s not your fault.
Kim Dokja: You couldn’t have ever predicted that happening.
Kim Dokja: It’s okay. Lee Jihye will be fine.
Yoo Joonghyuk releases an exhale. Puffs that sound like pattering laughs, raindrops against the ground. Kim Dokja buries his head into his chest.
But something quick jolts him awake from his comfort. He’s forgotten something until now.
“Joonghyuk-ah,” he says. “Here, wait.”
Yoo Joonghyuk stops his steps to stare down at Kim Dokja. He’s still in his arms, in a bridal-carry. Kim Dokja moves one of his arms as something materializes in his hand. The ticking of a pocket watch fills the silent night.
Item
Timekeeper’s Watch
“What…” Yoo Joonghyuk looks somewhat stunned. Kim Dokja was surprised too when he had obtained it. It’s just a regular item. No special effects or anything of the sort.
“It’s a gift, you bastard. Take it.”
“What for?”
“Do gifts have to have a purpose? Don’t be so stubborn, Joonghyuk-ah.”
Yoo Joonghyuk lowers Kim Dokja to the floor, picking it up into his hand afterwards. It’s silver, a pattern engraved on the back. It ticks and ticks. Yoo Joonghyuk continues to look at it.
Kim Dokja finds himself speaking again.
“Time only moves forward, so stop looking at the past. Let’s keep going, Joonghyuk-ah.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s eye glances at him. Taking the entirety of his form in. For the first time in forever, he sees him smile, fully. A grin that takes over his face, scrunches his eyes, wrinkles forming. A happiness that can only be described as human.
Kim Dokja laughs as he’s picked up again by Yoo Joonghyuk.
They make it to the stairwell quicker than expected. Almost no mobs remained. Still, there were surely some lurking around. Extra experience before going onto the next floor.
From his Somnolence skill, all the mobs in the radius were likely incapacitated. It’d be a great time to…
He doesn’t have to suggest anything. Yoo Joonghyuk, as usual, is on the same wavelength as him.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has cast the skill Eternal Hellscape.
As soon as the notification hits, fire razes amongst them. The leaf-barren trees are licked by a blazing torrent, everything bathed in an orange glow. The night sky’s stars still shine bright amongst the glow of flame. It’s all-destructive, the end of everything. The misfortune contained in the entire world condensed into a singular hellfire inferno. It’s beautiful.
Notification
Incarnation Yoo Joonghyuk has levelled up to Level 72!
The sounds of the notifications have become comforting amongst the crackling fire. They’re damped by the Somnolence skill, akin to a buzzing fly against his ear.
It makes him think of life before the dungeon. Lazy summers in his childhood, when his mom had walked him through the streets bathed in sun. Pesky mosquitos buzzing, flying, biting him. An uncomfortable heat that had washed over him, characteristic of Seoul summers. The cooling air conditioner blowing circles into his face.
Back then, the only worries of his had been thoughts of breakfast, dinner, and lunch. Now, they’d grown. But, that was okay. Time changes things. It’s only natural that he makes the most of the moment, here, now with Yoo Joonghyuk, the company.
Yoo Joonghyuk makes good on his promise to mark him again. He nips at Kim Dokja.
“Ah, haha! Joonghyuk-ah, are you a mosquito?”
Yoo Joonghyuk hums. His arms shift underneath Kim Dokja. His steps advance.
Boneless in Yoo Joonghyuk’s grip, he has no energy to complain when Yoo Joonghyuk continues to carry him, bridal-style, to the stairway.
Yoo Joonghyuk sends him one last message, a ding.
Chat
Yoo Joonghyuk: Dokja.
Yoo Joonghyuk: I love you.
Kim Dokja covers his face. He replies.
Chat
Kim Dokja: I love you too, Joonghyuk-ah.
He hears a characteristically short snort from above. Yoo Joonghyuk, that brat. Kim Dokja buries his head deeper into his hands. Yoo Joonghyuk’s calloused hands, carrying him, radiate a burning heat, almost too warm. The ache from their activities courses through him still, even after being healed. As Yoo Joonghyuk begins to approach the stairway, the sound echoes.
A darkness blankets over them, but it’s not terrifying. With Yoo Joonghyuk enveloping him, he knows it’ll all be okay. Yoo Joonghyuk stands there, glancing at the stairwell.
Time to floor collapse
0 days, 0 hours, 28 minutes, 13 seconds until collapse.
“Joonghyuk-ah. It’s time to head up.”