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A man entered his wide-open eyes.
Jet-black hair and pupils of the same hue. Despite his cold demeanor, a smile hung on his lips, yet he exuded a profound emptiness and precariousness. His eyes held not a trace of laughter.
It was Geon Ita.
“Didn’t I tell you to break that habit?”
A slow, drawn-out voice followed by a smile that crinkled his eyes. It was a quiet smile. And strangely, it sent a shiver down the spine.
For a moment, Dokyeom stared blankly, then shifted his gaze past Geon Ita’s shoulder. The blocked entrance had opened, and numerous hunters were now stepping into the cavity.
The expressions of those hunters were dazed, as if their souls had left them.
“Besides, you still seem to be one body with that bastard.”
His slanted eyes barked amiably. Why don’t you let go? You’re just going to whimper anyway?
This bastard.
Before he could finish the thought, his body lunged forward without warning. He extended his fingertips sharply, but Geon Ita stepped back with a hollow laugh.
Dokyeom immediately raised his knee, stood up, and swiped at the air again. Geon Ita dodged that easily too.
“Mr. Geon Ita, let’s not misunderstand. This isn’t me doing this, is it?”
“Then who? The bastard?”
Geon Ita answered with a fleeting smile again. The difference from before was that his smile was crooked.
“You don’t need to know that. Let’s start with you taking a hit, shall we? It’s hard for both of us dodging, so just let me hit you.”
“I’m too scared to go near you?”
“Then stay there. I’ll come to you.”
“It’ll just be a waste of energy. Why don’t you stay still?”
He spat out the words with bravado, but with every movement, sweat trickled down his back and his breathing grew ragged. Eventually, he had to bend over, rest his hands on his knees, and wipe the sweat beading on his chin.
His vision swam, but his anger showed no sign of abating. Apparently, Geon Ita had thoroughly pissed off Agon.
This is the limit, now.
A few steps away from the sweating Dokyeom, Baek Jiun was desperately capturing the scene on camera. Dokyeom wiped his damp lips and muttered lowly.
“Hey, you… turn off the camera now?”
“Okay, hyung. Just five… no, one more minute! After one minute, I’ll turn it off.”
Kill him, save him.
As he agonized, someone suddenly blocked his path. Two people. Dali, with his fur bristling, and the notably large back of Beom Yeonhu.
He dimly watched their backs as they glared at Geon Ita, when suddenly a familiar scent brushed his nose. His hyperaware senses followed the fragrance and turned his gaze.
Then, far away, he saw someone in a thick gray coat approaching. Silver eyes visible between jet-black hair stood out vividly against the murky background.
Those were the eyes he had seen countless times during the night on his way here.
Staring at him, Dokyeom rubbed his red-rimmed eyes and murmured weakly, in a voice that might not be heard.
“Ah… Mr. Taeseongyeon… you used the kids well. They listened really well… They’re sturdy… and….”
The sentence went unfinished. Because his body tilted.
As he felt his vision slant, something burst out beside him. Baek Jiun’s screeching scream echoed and faded. Even that was now only faintly audible.
The Hell General standing beside him had crushed Baek Jiun’s camcorder.
With that blue flame as his last sight, Dokyeom collapsed face-first onto Dali’s body in front of him. The camera turned off.
It was finally time to rest.
A warm garment fell over the chilling cold that had swept over him. Dokyeom, blinking weakly, buried himself in the fur and closed his eyes.
A peaceful silence settled.
[The supreme ‘Observers’ of ‘Myth Revival’ declare that the victory of this ‘Great Historical Reenactment’ shall be decided as Korea’s triumph.]
For a moment, it felt like he had seen those words.
***
When he opened his eyes, he was in a quiet hospital room dimly lit by soft lighting. A cool breeze flowed in through the pale blinds, and he felt someone’s embrace against his sideways-lying body.
Half-asleep, he stroked the arm tightly wrapped around his stomach, feeling its cool temperature. It was Agon.
Annoyed by the persistent touching of his hands and arms, a low growl came from behind him. Dokyeom immediately demanded with a hoarse throat.
“Hey. Just stay still… I’m checking your hydration.”
Where’s Dali… Ah.
As soon as he thought of it, a round head appeared from under the wide motion bed, and a face popped up. Round eyes blinked slowly at Dokyeom. Soon, the eyes became teary and closed.
“… Oh, our Dali. You must not have eaten because you were worried about hyung. Come here, Dali.”
Peep— Peep—
As Dali rushed into his arms, the bed shook. He probably hadn’t come close because of Agon’s stares; it must have been hard. Dokyeom hugged him and patted his back; he felt quite thin, making it hard to gauge how much time had passed.
As he fumbled for his phone on the bedside table, the hospital door suddenly opened.
Slide—
Dokyeom tilted his head slightly to look back. A tall man quickly closed the door, his hands full of plastic bags, and sighed tiredly. He was heavily armed with a black hat and mask.
As the man pulled down his mask, their eyes met instantly. It was Beom Yeonhu. His eyes widened like lanterns, then he rushed to the bed and poured out urgent questions.
“Dokyeom, are you okay? Do you feel dizzy? Any pain? If it hurts, tell me. I’ll call someone right away. Okay?”
“Hyung, I’m fine. Just sit next to me.”
Dokyeom gestured to the small chair beside him. Beom Yeonhu, still looking at him anxiously, forced himself to swallow and sat down quietly. Then he quickly opened a bottle of water and thrust it forward.
“Drink water first, Dokyeom. You must be very thirsty. You woke up after two days.”
Dokyeom, who was uncurling from Agon’s arms and sitting up, bit his tongue midway. What? Two days? Two daays?
He almost choked on the water if he had drunk it. His surprised eyes immediately turned to Agon and Dali.
“Hyung, the kids… Did Dali eat anything? Dali can’t go hungry?!”
Agon could go days without eating, but Dali was different. The longer he fasted, the higher his grade rose.
“He ate, but… he doesn’t want to. Still, he eats when it gets dangerous.”
“Hyung, give me something quickly. Any bread? Or snacks.”
Beom Yeonhu pulled out a handful of bread from the bag he had just bought and handed it over, finally showing a faint smile. Having watched Dali—who had been restless and unable to sleep for two days, pacing near the bed—he knew that Dali’s now calm blinking was a sign of stability.
As Dokyeom tore open the wrapper and brought the bread to Dali’s mouth, his shoulder suddenly flinched. The moment the arm from behind pulled him tightly by the waist, his nape was fiercely bitten.
As if scolding him, the bite was harsh. There was no one else who would do this but Agon.
Gritting his molars, Dokyeom opened his mouth with an expression full of things to say, then closed it with a sigh.
“Alright, ha… I’m the sinner, fine.”
Agon’s parched, cracked lips. He could easily tell that the worry was no less than that for Dali. The image of Agon staying by his side without even drinking water passed through his mind.
“If I get sick twice, we’ll all starve to death. Drink water, you bastard. You have to finish the whole bottle before I give you food.”
As he forcedly tilted the water bottle to Agon’s lips, fragmented memories floated faintly.
Yes, after collapsing onto Dali’s body, the skill had been released, accompanied by the pain of his body tearing in two. That must have been the process of separating from Agon.
After that, he had writhed and gasped alone. He remembered Beom Yeonhu’s face, clenching his jaw and holding him down, as well as the faces of Taeseongyeon, Geon Ita, and Ju Uiryeong hiding in the distance, poking out only his head and staring blankly.
Then, a perfect blackout.
Seeing the vast hospital room, it seemed Taeseongyeon had been generous, but he felt troubled that his condition had been bad enough to keep him unconscious for two days.
Maybe it felt that way because Orias was absent for too long.
When will this bastard come?
As he sighed alone, staring at the ceiling, Beom Yeonhu, who had gotten up and bustled around, suddenly thrust something in front of Dokyeom. A small tray with steaming porridge.
“First, Dokyeom, have a spoonful…”
But Beom Yeonhu’s words, as he held out the spoon, were cut off midsentence by an unexpected knock.
Knock knock—
Dokyeom and Beom Yeonhu’s eyes simultaneously turned toward the door, as if by agreement. Agon and Dali were already looking. The knock came again, along with a familiar voice.
Knock knock—
[Hey, Yeonhu hyung? I mean, seriously. How can you look at someone who came to visit you out of worry and run away like you’ve seen a ghost? We’ve spent time together, you know.]
Knock knock?
[No, I mean… Yeonhu hyung? I’m not that rude or anything. You know how hard I’ve worked to film you, right? I just followed because I wanted to know how Dokyeom hyung was doing. I don’t have any sinister purpose. Hey? Hyung? Hyung-nim? Could you please open the door?]
Knock knock knock— Knock knock—!
After a while, the knocking turned into rattling. It seemed he was struggling outside to open the door, as if he might break it if this continued.
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