𝐃𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏 ¦| Oяv х м.Яєαɒєя |¦

⋆.˚✮ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ✮˚.⋆

˚₊‧||꒰ა ✨ ໒꒱ ||‧₊˚

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The rhythmic drone of the subway had lulled most passengers into a sleepy haze.

But not your not-so-average hero, [Your Name].

His eyes were glued to his phone—not because of some mindless game, but because he was rereading, for the umpteenth time, the epic that was "Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint."

Now, some might call him a Dokja simp, an expert judge of Kim Dokja's internal monologues, a fanboy who'd even learned Korean just to understand the original novel in all its glory.

[Your Name] would argue he was simply a devoted fan, a scholar of Dokja's suffering.

However, between you and me, the line between scholar and simp can get blurrier faster than a greased Dokkaebi on a skateboard.

A sharp click from the container beside him snapped him out of his reverie.

"Chill, Claws," [Your Name] murmured to his unlikely companion—a live crab, which his friend had inexplicably begged him to ferry across cities.

Claws, yes, because that’s the height of [Your Name]’s creativity on short notice (and also because the poor guy was destined for a deliciously spicy demise in a seafood dinner), snapped his pincers again, as if sighing in resignation.

[Your Name] shoved the container into his backpack, his focus immediately returning to his phone. This week’s update for "Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint" had dropped, and he was itching to see Dokja in another epic showdown, trench coat flapping heroically as always.

Suddenly, the train lurched like it had just tried to pull off a K-pop dance move and failed spectacularly.

The passengers erupted in a chorus of groans and spilled coffee.

The lights flickered ominously, plunging the carriage into darkness just long enough to raise the collective blood pressure by a few notches.

When the lights sputtered back on, everything seemed... the same?

Except, something felt a little off, like someone had taken his world and run it through a cheap filter.

"Huh," [Your Name] muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Déjà vu, but make it unsettling."

The once vibrant subway car now looked like it had seen better days—back in the 80s.

The paint was peeling like it had a mid-life crisis, and the cheerful ads had been replaced by ones in a language that looked suspiciously like Korean (thank you, language course!).

It was as if he’d accidentally wandered into a low-budget remake of his favorite webtoon.

A chill ran down his spine as he realized faster than you could say “plot twist” that this wasn’t a case of bad interior design.

This was... something else.

Something that screamed, “You’re in way over your head, buddy.”

His mounting existential crisis was interrupted by a shriek that could have shattered glass.

A woman across the aisle was pointing a trembling finger toward the front of the subway car.

[Your Name] craned his neck, curiosity winning out over survival instinct.

“What the heck…?”

There, bathed in an eerie blue light, floated a creature that looked like it had escaped from a demented dream.

Small, fluffy, with fur the color of expired milk and a grin that could out-creep a clown convention.

"Well, well, well," the creature boomed, its voice bouncing off the walls like an echo in a haunted house. "Look at all these delightful snacks—er, I mean, Incarnations! This is going to be so much fun… for me!"

Just as [Your Name] was trying to process the fact that his life had taken a hard left into weirdville, a sharp pinch yanked him back to reality.

He yelped, fumbling for the source of the pain.

With all the flair of a drama queen, he unzipped his backpack to reveal a very grumpy-looking crab glaring up at him with beady black eyes.

"Claws," [Your Name] sighed, shaking his head. "Not the time, dude. My life’s already spiraling into a K-drama."

And then, like a bad aftertaste, the realization hit him.

This wasn’t just any kind of weird—this was a scenario.

Like, straight out of his beloved novel.

The kind that ends with people getting seriously messed up, if not worse.

The Dokkaebi’s eyes glinted with the kind of sadistic glee reserved for cats cornering mice, and [Your Name] suddenly had the distinct impression he was on the menu.

Great.

On the plus side, maybe there’d be decent ramen here.

Preferably not seafood, though.

Claws would probably appreciate that.

Maybe.

But most importantly...

'Kim Dokja?! DOKJA?!'

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

˚₊‧||꒰ა ✨ ໒꒱ ||‧₊˚