ᴅɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ (ʏᴏᴏʜᴀɴᴋɪᴍ)

Chapter 8:

A/N

Getting lost is a coping mechanism, but it sucks when you want to be found.

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'What...'

Kim Dokja felt anxiety bubbling in his stomach, and felt the need to sit down.

He looked in front of him.

.

.

.

.

.

The empty corridor stretched out.

Where were the kids? How did he lose the kids?

And how were they so good at direction again? Kim Dokja felt hopeless, and leaned against a wall and pursed his lips.

Being lost was one of his coping mechanisms, yes. But right now, when he wanted to be found, it wasn't the best. His palms sweated and more saliva pooled in his mouth.

Kim Dokja swallowed and pushed himself to stand up.

They called this place an <industrial complex.>

He sighed. Did his older self get lost here? Of course, he would. Kim Dokja knew this attribute of his would not go away any time soon.

Kim Dokja wondered what he'd look to someone who was—by any chance, watching him. He'd appear mostly as a person in a hospital because they were having difficulty breathing.

Kim Dokja pushed himself to walk in the hallway.

Maybe he could go down to the common room and just sit there till someone came back from the scenario. That pretty person went with both the masters, obviously they'd finish quick and return.

Yeah, that seemed okay. Kim Dokja groaned and rested his hand—

It wasn't a wall, but an ajar door.

He fell, body tilting to the side and a freeze of voluntary movements.

—Crash!

"Ugh..." he sat up quickly, abdomen aching.

—creak.

"Um... are y-you okay?"

Kim Dokja glanced up, and winced slightly. He licked his drying lips and let his eyes adjust on who it was in the room.

A boy—or young man—sat with his knees against his chest on an office chair, with headphones on his shoulder, and the light of a computer darkened his face.

Kim Dokja glanced at the face. Light curly black hair and dark circles under his eyes—'Han Donghoon! One of the Seven Kings... '

Kim Dokja clutched his hip and looked away from the gaze.

"Oh—u-uh! Hyung—" Han Donghoon got off the chair, and took a step ahead—unfortunately missing Kim Dokja's raised hand, and tripping over a wire.

—Thud!

Kim Dokja inhaled. Han Donghoon. A character who he could relate a bit more than many other characters.

The boy in front of him was in no better physique and his body seemed almost frozen. "Erm.. . Donghoon... are you okay?" He asked, standing up and ignoring his own pain, he bent down to poke the boy's shoulder.

But of course. Tls123 was that kind of writer. Despite someone having a quality that hindered them, the author gave them usefulness to dull the line. Like this boy's computer advance.

Han Donghoon quickly sat up and looked at Kim Dokja. "Um. Hyung why do—"

The dark room had its lights turned on, and the two boys covered their eyes and winced.

"You brat really have a death wish for your eyes, don't you—" Gong Pildu paused himself. "What are you bas—doing here?" He looked in Kim Dokja's direction.

Han Donghoon groaned out and spoke with his hand shielding his eyes, "Ahjussi please, switch it off."

Gong Pildu glared at them. "Don't be so over dramatic brat. Just because I was out hunting doesn't mean you take advantage."

Han Donghoon pursed his lips. "A-ahjussi I was making better patterns for your... turrets."

Gong Pildu's hard gaze softened and he groaned, "at the price of your vision? Are you stupid."

Kim Dokja glanced at Han Donghoon looking down "S-sorry." The other boy muttered.

Kim Dokja licked his own lips. Was it just him or this father-son relationship in between them was a bit too unlikely? But it seemed to make perfect sense.

Han Donghoon a neglected child, and Gong Pildu—a man who lost his family.

"You're coming out—" Gong Pildu glanced at Kim Dokja too. "You too. Don't care if they told me to be kind or whateva. You two are bags of bones."

He entered the room and took both their hands, dragging them to stand up. "You look like revenants. Hear me."

Kim Dokja looked at his own skin and then at Han Donghoon's. Indeed. It was pale but it wasn't so unhealthy. And the two of them stayed silent as Gong Pildu dragged them, it irked the man.

"And does someone have a silencer spell over you or something? If so I'll blast them away." He gruffed.

Kim Dokja had learned to uncover whether what was positive or negative. And as Gong Pildu spoke, he spoke with concern and annoyance.

Han Donghoon glanced at him, and he glanced at the other boy. "... Uhm. H-yung, did you fail a scenario...?"

Gong Pildu loosened his hold on their wrists and muttered, "of course that bastard did, what do you expect?" He glanced at Han Donghoon.

"Now he's stuck as a teenager and I only have someone else to remind me I'm old."

They slowly made their way down the stairs, and Gong Pildu sighed. "It's not that hard to take care of yourself."

After reaching a floor down, the man pushed open a door that led into the back of the industrial complex. It was an extension, like a garden. Though it wasn't maintained, weeds had made it beautiful.

Gong Pildu huffed and walked into the sun, and collapsed on a chair. He glanced at the two teenagers, and snapped. "What are you doing in the shade? Hah? Get out."

Kim Dokja sighed, and took a step in the sunlight. Just a day ago everything was dull and rainy. Grey clouds and zooms of cars. It got so bad that the schools allowed them to stay home.

Gong Pildu gestured towards the three chairs, and the two sat with a chairs distance in between them.

"..."

"..."

Kim Dokja was no stranger to be scrutinized, so he just looked down.

"...are you a con man at this age too?" Gong Pildu asked Kim Dokja.

'I'm... a what?'

'My future self seems to have improved...'

Kim Dokja shrugged.

"Please, if you remember this by any chance, please don't grow up to con." The man scratched his cheek and repeated his 'please,' he extended his hand to touch the dried flowers in the vase. They oddly resembled Perpetual Motion.

Gong Pildu coughed and glanced at Han Donghoon, who was looking at the table and fiddling with his fingers.

Kim Dokja gazed at the flowers. The flowers said to grow without water, dried without it. He swallowed, "...  become a con man?"