Fellina

I noticed you haven’t posted in a while and wanted to say I hope you’re doing well. I love reading your works with and my interactions with you have always been great. So, I just wanted to hope into your asks and say I hope everything is going well for you!

Ch. 6 >> https://www.tumblr.com/fellina018/789400233764438017/orv-how-far-would-you-go-for-love-dokjoong?source=share

---

Yoo Joonghyuk stands at the threshold of his old studio apartment, key still heavy in his hand, though the lock turns easily.

It is the first time he has returned in almost three weeks.

The room smells like dust, cold fabric, and leftover air.

The thin blanket on his bed is still creased from the last time he left in a rush, thinking he might be back soon. But he isn't.

He walks in slowly, each step feeling foreign, like visiting someone else’s life.

The mattress, once something he fell into without thought, now feels stiff and hollow. He sits down, instinctively curling his spine, but it aches immediately. His back has grown used to Kim Dokja’s bed. The one that is warm, firm, and memory foam.

He reaches for the instant ramen he once lived off. Tears the lid, pours the hot water from his tiny kettle, and waits.

One bite.

Too salty.

His stomach twisted, not from fullness but something closer to rejection. Like his body now remembers the taste of organic fresh ingredients, the grilled fish, soft rice, morning miso with tofu and sliced spring onions...meals that Kim Dokja insists on him eating.

He leaves the ramen half-eaten and wanders toward his dresser.

His old hoodie...it used to be his favorite. Baggy, sleeves stretched, comfortable like an old friend.

He pulls it over his head.

It itches.

The collar scratched against his neck. His arm broke out in red patches within minutes.

He rips it off.

Shivering in the cold, he looks around at everything he once thought was fine.

It isn't.

And it terrified him.

---

Across the city, in a room Yoo Joonghyuk has never seen, Kim Dokja stands in front of a wardrobe.

It isn’t his closet.

This one, hidden behind a locked door in his private study, holds no clothes of his own.

Only Joonghyuk’s.

Not the new ones.

The old.

Carefully folded. Bagged. Preserved.

That threadbare coat. The white shirt had a stubborn stain at the cuff. His socks with holes, Kim Dokja can see through when Joonghyuk crossed his legs without knowing.

He keeps them all.

Sometimes he opens the door and stares at them, not because he is sentimental, but because they prove how far Joonghyuk has come.

How far he had brought him.

Kim Dokja runs a finger along the rack. The textures used disgusted him. Now they make him... nostalgic.

Or possessive.

Yes. That was more accurate.

This life. This comfort. This quiet addiction Joonghyuk was forming.

It belonged to him.

---

Yoo Joonghyuk comes back to the condo with a rare kind of silence on his face. He doesn't speak as he removes his shoes...his new shoes and stands barefoot in the doorway of Kim Dokja’s living room.

Kim Dokja glances up from his tablet.

“Is everything okay?”

Yoo Joonghyuk doesn't answer right away. He crosses the room. Sits beside him on the couch. Then—

“Did you plan all of this?”

Kim Dokja tilts his head. “All of what?”

“This,” Joonghyuk says, low. “The shampoo. The bed. The food. The clothes. Everything I didn’t ask for, but now… I can’t go back.”

Kim Dokja looks at him carefully. The man in front of him isn't angry. He isn't even upset. He looks tired. A little afraid. A little defeat.

“I didn’t plan,” Dokja says softly. “But I did choose.”

Yoo Joonghyuk looks down at his own hands. They are clean. Moisturizes. There is a faint citrus scent from the hand cream Kim Dokja bought and left beside the sink.

Kim Dokja leans in a little. His voice is barely a murmur.

“I saw your life and thought, I can give better than that. So I did. And all of them are not a trap, Joonghyuk-ah.”

He smiles faintly.

“That’s care.”

Yoo Joonghyuk doesn't respond, not in words. But he doesn't leave either.

And when Kim Dokja reaches over and brushes the hem of his shirt down, smoothing a wrinkle that isn’t there.

Ch. 5 >> https://www.tumblr.com/fellina018/789381021295607808/orv-how-far-would-you-go-for-love-dokjoong?source=share

---

“Hey.”

Yoo Joonghyuk pauses by the vending machine. The tone isn’t friendly.

Two classmates lean on the wall. One of them, wears a cheap smirk. The kind of guy who always talks about “raw talent” and “working class pride” but takes every shortcut he can find.

“You got a sponsor or something?” he asks, eyeing the polished sneakers, the clean watch, the laptop bag that have no brand mark but look stitched by the high-end crafted.

Yoo Joonghyuk says nothing.

“Or maybe…” The guy leans closer, voice lower. “You’ve got a sugar daddy?”

His words are cruel, mocking, but there is a flicker of something worse beneath. Envy. The kind that comes from knowing someone has what you never have.

Yoo Joonghyuk meets his gaze, calm and steady.

The truth is far more complicated than any rumor.

---

Kim Dokja sits down two cups of tea, one is peppermint and the other is camomile, and leans against the kitchen counter like someone with no care in the world.

Yoo Joonghyuk looks tired when he returns.

Kim Dokja notices the way he doesn't speak much. The way he stares at the wall like it says something he can't understand.

“Rough day?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Kim Dokja smiles.

He always smiles when Yoo Joonghyuk says that.

Because he knows what it means. 

‘I won’t ask for help, but I’m tired.’

So he offers, gently, “Have you ever thought about dropping one of your part-time jobs?”

Yoo Joonghyuk blinks. “What?”

“You look exhausted. You don’t need to work three jobs anymore. I can cover things. You stay here most nights anyway. What’s mine is—”

“Don’t say that.”

“—yours,” Kim Dokja finishes anyway, softly. “Just for a while. Until you’re okay.”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s jaw tightens.

Kim Dokja approaches, slow, careful, until their bodies almost touch. His hand lifts to fix Joonghyuk’s hoodie, brushing a strand of dark hair behind his ear.

“I’m not trying to buy you,” he murmurs, softly. His touch is lingering, gently. “I’m just saying… maybe you don’t have to bleed so much to prove you deserve to be here.”

Yoo Joonghyuk doesn't answer.

But that night, he asks for the temporary break his Friday night shift at the delivery company.

---

Kim Dokja never rushed.

He lived in a world where time bent itself to his will. Where patience was not just a virtue, but a strategy.

So, when he picked up Yoo Joonghyuk’s toothbrush that morning which frayed, bent, barely a stick. He didn’t say a word and just simply tossed it into the trash and wrote a note on his phone. 

'Find soft bristles. Mint scent. Simple design, nothing flashy.'

That evening, a new toothbrush appeared in the ceramic holder. Black, clean, ergonomic. No logos. Just right.

Yoo Joonghyuk never asked. And Kim Dokja didn’t explain.

It started with little things. Quiet replacements.

A towel which is too thin, its edges unraveling is gone. In its place, a plush navy one that matched Yoo Joonghyuk’s skin appeared.

His old comb which has teeth broken is replaced with sandalwood. Kim Dokja tested three himself before choosing the one with the best weight in his hand.

Socks which are fraying and mismatched are replaced by soft cotton, black and gray, folded neatly in the drawer Kim Dokja had cleared for him.

Everything was quiet. Unspoken.

But it made Kim Dokja feel like something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Possession.

He knew Joonghyuk would never ask for any of it. And so he made sure every item was presented as if it didn’t matter.

“It was a freebie.”

“I don’t like this scent anyway, you try it.”

“I bought the wrong size. Just take it.”

Yoo Joonghyuk always resisted for a second. Then took it. Wore it. Used it.

And that was all Kim Dokja needed.

---

One afternoon, Kim Dokja found himself staring at Joonghyuk’s battered sneakers by the door. The soles had nearly split, the fabric thinned from rain and sun.

He crouched beside them, fingertips brushing the frayed edge.

No, this wouldn’t do.

Not for his Joonghyuk.

That evening, Kim Dokja visited four stores. Nothing in display windows pleased him. Too loud. Too obvious. Too easy to be noticed. Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t like that.

He finally found a pair tucked in a quiet boutique which is leather and mesh, soft gray and dark blue, subtle and made to last. Expensive. But not brand-flashy. Something you’d only notice if you had good taste.

He smiled to himself.

Perfect.

---

A few days later, when Joonghyuk returned from class, the sneakers sat on the rack beside his old ones. Not a word from Kim Dokja.

He stared at them for a long moment. Then sat on the step to try them on.

They fit perfectly.

Dokja watched from the kitchen, slicing fruit with the kind of calm that came only when everything was in place.

Joonghyuk didn’t say thank you.

He didn’t have to.

---

That night, Kim Dokja slipped into bed beside him, not touching. Just close enough to feel the warmth through the sheets.

Yoo Joonghyuk fell asleep within minutes.

The soft breathing that Kim Dokja had grown addicted to.

He stayed awake, eyes open in the dark, listening to that rhythm. A rhythm he’d crafted, piece by piece, with soap and socks and shoes and silence.

Mine.

This was how it should be.

---

Ch. 4 >> https://www.tumblr.com/fellina018/789307554944761856/orv-how-far-would-you-go-for-love-dokjoong?source=share

---

Kim Dokja folds the receipt neatly before setting it in the drawer, another delivery of Joonghyuk’s favorite protein bars, restocks in the kitchen he now calls “ours” without realizing.

He’s been tracking Yoo Joonghyuk’s tastes with obsessive precision. From the temperature he prefers his bath to the exact weight of the blanket that helps him to sleep better. Every bit of data logged into Kim Dokja’s mind is like an equation he intends to perfect.

And still, it isn't enough.

Yoo Joonghyuk is here most nights. His toothbrush sits beside Kim Dokja’s. His game controller is plugged into Kim Dokja’s TV. His socks, his jacket, his lingering scent after a shower... they fill the space like he belongs here.

But his name is still on that tiny apartment lease across town.

And Kim Dokja hates that.

He waits until Yoo Joonghyuk finishes his tea the next morning before bringing it up—carefully, softly, in that gentle voice he always uses when he wants to seem harmless.

“Joonghyuk-ah.”

“Mm?” The man is half-asleep, hoodie loose around his frame, dark hair falling over one eye.

“You’ve been staying here almost every night.”

Yoo Joonghyuk nods. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You barely use your place anymore. Isn’t that a waste of money?”

Yoo Joonghyuk blinks at him.

Kim Dokja leans his cheek on one hand, smiling as he adds, “You can cancel the lease. Put your stuff in storage. Or move what you need here. It’s not like I mind. We practically live together anyway.”

Joonghyuk hesitates.

That is all Kim Dokja needs.

“I can help with the moving fee,” he offers, “It’s not a big deal, just seems… simpler. You sleep here better. Eat better. You’re already used to this place. And I like the way we live together.”

Yoo Joonghyuk bites his lip, seems worrying.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Kim Dokja says, already taking the dishes to the sink like it is a passing thought. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

He doesn't mention the red rash he’s noticed on Joonghyuk’s arms, or how Joonghyuk now winced when he sat on his own bed. He doesn't need to.

The body remembers. The body adapts.

And Kim Dokja has ensured Yoo Joonghyuk’s body only remembered softness now.

---

[The Night]

Yoo Joonghyuk sits at the foot of Kim Dokja’s bed, the bed smells like lavender and soap.

Yoo Joonghyuk lays still beneath the expensive duvet, eyes open, staring at the soft glow of the ceiling light as it fades into night mode. The mattress is too soft. The sheets are too smooth. His heart is too loud.

He turns his head slightly, Kim Dokja is there... just inches away, lying on his side, reading a book without saying a word. His dark hair frames his pale face in a way that almost makes Yoo Joonghyuk forget the fear that is clawing at his ribs.

"Dokja," Yoo Joonghyuk said quietly.

"Mmh?"

"Why are you doing this?"

Kim Dokja doesn't look up from his book. "I like having you here."

"Is that all?"

Now Dokja looks at him. His eyes are calm... and steady.

"No. But that’s the easiest answer I can give you tonight."

Yoo Joonghyuk doesn't know how to respond to that. He rolls onto his side, back turns to him, fists clench under the pillow. "I can’t sleep in my room anymore," he murmurs. "The bed is too hard. The blanket is too thin. My skin itches. My back hurts. I..I..."

Silence. Yoo Joonghyuk doesn't know how to describe his feelings to this.

Then Dokja’s voice is almost inaudible.

"I know."

Yoo Joonghyuk squeezes his eyes shut. "...I don't understand."

Kim Dokja doesn't answer for a long moment. Then he reaches over and lightly touches Yoo Joonghyuk’s wrist under the blanket.

"I make you more comfortable. If your body decides it doesn’t want to go back, that’s not cruelty, Joonghyuk-ah. It’s an evolution."

"You’re...ruining me."

"No." Dokja’s voice is firm. Quiet, but unshakable. "I’m building you a life where you don’t have to fight every second to exist."

Yoo Joonghyuk finally turns to face him again. His eyes are glassy.

"Then stay," he whispers.

And Kim Dokja...

He always pampers his most adorable man.

When Kim Dokja’s quiet breath tickles the back of his neck and a pale hand slips naturally onto his waist, Joonghyuk whispers nothing.

He can't say no.

He doesn't want to.

Yoo Joonghyuk falls asleep with his fingers curl into the hem of Kim Dokja’s sleeve like a child afraid of losing a tether.

---

[Talk~] Honestly, sometimes I feel like the story is going in circles a little…but it can't be help since I'm in the loop of manipulated KDJ 😂🩵

Ch. 3 >> https://www.tumblr.com/fellina018/787873585441226752/orv-how-far-would-you-go-for-love-dokjoong?source=share

---

Kim Dokja opens the door to find Yoo Joonghyuk already in bed.

Not the old hard mattress that sits in a dark, dusty corner of his former room.

No.

This bed.

The one with Egyptian cotton, a clouded mattress, climate control, warm lighting, and silence like velvet.

Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t wake up when Dokja enters. Just shifts slightly under the heavy blanket, as if his body has already responded to the scent of him.

And Kim Dokja watches.

Watches the way the man curls into comfort.

Watches how soft the rebellion has made him.

---

He remembers Yoo Joonghyuk trying to walk away. Remembers the slumped shoulders, the breathless excuses, the tired denial in his eyes.

And then...

The man’s room has betrayed him.

The instant ramen gives him a stomachache.

The clothes that used to feel like home gave him hives and left his skin inflamed.

The thin blanket, once enough, can't chase the cold from his spine anymore.

“It’s terrifying, isn’t it?” Kim Dokja whispers, eyes locked on the quiet form in his bed.

“How fast a body forgets suffering. How fast it wants to be pampered. Cared for. Fed. Touched.”

He moves silently to sit beside the bed. The shadows wrap around him like silk.

Yoo Joonghyuk stirs at the movement, but doesn't open his eyes.

Kim Dokja brushes his fingers against the man’s cheek, then leans to kiss his temple and speak softly.

“Stay with me.”

“You already can’t live without this, can you?”

The sleeping man doesn’t answer. But his breathing softens.

And in the quiet of the night, Yoo Joonghyuk turns toward him in sleep and leans into the touch.

Because even without knowing, his body is already obeying...which makes Kim Dokja smile fondly.

That is enough.

---

“Stay rich for a month,” someone once told him, “and poverty becomes unbearable.”

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t believe it then.

Yoo Joonghyuk had lived in worse places, eaten worse food, and worn thinner clothes before. And none of it ever broke him.

Until comfort becomes a habit.

Until Kim Dokja becomes a habit.

Until the strings wrap around his ribs are too soft to notice, but too tight to break.

---

Kim Dokja found him in a warehouse near the port.

Thrown there like discarded trash.

The man wasn’t moving.

At first, Kim Dokja thought he was dead, but Yoo Joonghyuk was still breathing...barely.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s face was barely recognizable. Swollen. Split lip. The collarbone jutted out in the wrong direction. His fingers were bruised black, like they’d been hit by something heavy.

But the worst part was his eyes....Yoo Joonghyuk's eyes are open and vacant.

"So this is what you look like without me," Kim Dokja whispered.

"Ugly, isn’t it?"

He carried the broken man in his arms. No one else was allowed to touch him. Not even his assistant.

Kim Dokja walked out of that hellhole with Joonghyuk's limp body pressed to his chest.

---

The doctors had done what they could. Reattached torn skin, bandaged, and lastly hooked IVs into bruised veins before leaving the room.

Kim Dokja sat by the bedside like a man watching a masterpiece in ruins.

Once, this body had fought him, kicked, screamed, and cursed with those sharp eyes full of hate. But now...

It lay still. Broken. Silent.

He brushed a hand across Yoo Joonghyuk’s scalp...gently and deliberately. Feeling every bump beneath the skin where the bone had nearly fractured. His fingers ghosted down the nape of his neck, then his spine. The sleeping man shivered under the touch, but did not recoil.

Not anymore.

“Shh,” Kim Dokja whispered...voice low and warm. “You're safe now.”

No response. Not even a flinch. Only shallow and pained breaths.

Kim Dokja's lips curled with satisfaction.

How poetic.

His favorite toy, the one who spat and clawed and ran, now reduced to this...a wreck left behind by hands far crueler than his own. A doll chewed up and abandoned by the enemy he had so foolishly trusted.

Kim Dokja had warned him, hadn’t he?

But Yoo Joonghyuk always had to learn the hard way. Always had to resist. Always had to run.

“And look where that got you, hmm,” he murmured, fingers brushing aside damp strands of hair from Joonghyuk’s temple. “You shouldn't try to run away, you know?”

Yoo Joonghyuk stirred, lips parting slightly, and it dried and cracked. A hoarse cough rattled from his throat. No voice followed. Just that weak and helpless noise.

Kim Dokja felt something shift in his chest.

He should’ve felt disgust. The ugly and useless things had no place in UW.

But instead of disgusting, what he felt was...Satisfaction.

Because now, Yoo Joonghyuk needed him. Craved him. Reached out for him with his trembling fingers, like a blind child who had only known warmth once.

He didn’t remember Kim Dokja.

Didn’t remember the hatred, the fear, the insults.

Didn’t remember the years of resistance.

He only responded to the hand that held him without hurting.

Only calmed under the gentle hums that Kim Dokja murmured just for him.

“There we go,” Dokja breathed, stroking down Yoo Joonghyuk’s arm, guiding it up so he could cling to him properly. “That’s right. Hold on to me.”

He obeyed.

His arms looped around Kim Dokja’s waist with the desperation of something abandoned. No hesitation. No distrust. Just raw, like an animal yearning.

Kim Dokja leaned in, pressing his lips to Yoo Joonghyuk’s temple.

He tucked the blanket up higher, adjusting the IV tubes carefully so as not to wake him. His fingers stroked slowly through Yoo Joonghyuk’s hair again, coaxing him into sleep like a lullaby.

He would keep him like this. Dependent, docile, and quiet.

A ruined body that now only trusted his voice, his hands, and his presence.

And Kim Dokja would never let him forget how sweet that safety felt.

---

Talk~

Well...I think this should be all for tonight (may be) LOL

Yoo Joonghyuk wakes up to nothing.

No light.

No shapes.

No edges.

Only darkness...thick, suffocating, pressing against his skin like tar.

He blinks. At least, he thinks he does, but nothing changes. The world is gone. The world is black.

And he...he doesn't know where he is.

Pain.

It is the first thing he knew. The heavy, pulsing ache is buried deep beneath every inch of skin, like fire trapped in bone.

His head...something inside it feels cracked, raw, as if it has been torn open and stitched back wrong. A sharp sting drills through his temples, down to his spine, radiating outward into his limbs like a scream without sound.

His throat scrapes with every breath. Dry. Torn. As though it has been clawed apart in silence. He tries to speak. No words come out, only a broken, rasping cough.

He doesn't know what was wrong.

He tries to move, and everything hurts.

It isn't just one place...it was everywhere. His back, his ribs, his legs, even the delicate bones in his fingers. His skin stings as though it has been scraped raw, torn apart, and left to rot.

He doesn't feel like a man. Doesn't feel human.

Just… something broken. Something wrecked.

Tears leak from the corners of his eyes, or maybe it is sweat or both. He can't tell. He was shaking. His limbs felt too heavy to carry him, and the darkness swallowed his breathing.

Then...

A touch. Soft. Gentle. So tender, it scared him more than the pain.

Fingers brushed the nape of his neck, then over his shoulders, his scalp, his back, and his spine—slowly, carefully, and quietly.

As if the hands don't want to hurt him, don't want to scare him.

As if they were trying to piece him back together, one shattered fragment at a time.

He flinches. But the hand remains.

Then came the voice—low, smooth, gentle. Too gentle.

“You’re okay,” the voice said.

“You’re safe now.”

“I’ve got you.”

Over and over. Like a prayer. Like a song sung only for him.

He doesn't know who the man was.

Doesn't know what kind of person touched like that, spoke like that...as though Yoo Joonghyuk isn't disgusting, isn't ruined, isn't something left behind.

His hands tremble as they reach out, blind and searching. His muscles scream. His nerves burn. But he moves anyway. Because the pain is one thing, and the darkness is another, but being alone in this pain is worse than either.

His fingers find the warmth. Skin. A body.

He clings to it...holds on like it is the last solid thing in a world that has crumbled around him. Like if he lets this warmth go, he'll fall again...and never stop falling.

The man lets him.

Arms wrap around his trembling body. Not tight. Not rough. Just…there, present.

One hand strokes his hair, and the other traces soft, steady circles against his back. And the voice keeps speaking softly as if breathing.

“I know it hurts.”

“It’s okay to cry.”

“You don’t have to be strong here.”

“You’re not alone.”

His body is shaking with sobs he can't swallow.

His throat is burning with silence.

The tears aren't stopping. But in the rhythm of those words, in the warmth of those hands, something deep inside begins to ease...not the pain or the fear...but the edge, the panic, the suffocating sense of drowning—it faded.

He still doesn't know where he is.

He still can't see.

He still hurts.

But now, in the middle of all that darkness, is a presence.

A voice.

A man with a gentle voice and gentle touch, holding him like he matters.

Yoo Joonghyuk doesn't believe in luck.

If something looks too good to be true, it probably isn't. But when you are poor, you don't get to be careful. You take what you can get.

The eviction had come suddenly. His landlord said he was renovating the building, and Yoo Joonghyuk had two weeks to leave. No negotiation. No extensions. The man hadn’t even looked at him when he said it.

And Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t argued. The poor didn’t argue.

He spent the next days hunting for anything with a roof and four walls. Everything was too expensive, even the tiny rooms without windows.

And today he finally found it.

There is no picture of the room, just an address in the slum zone and a price of 99,900 won for 30 sqm.

Too cheap. The price is not much different from his old room, and his old room was only 22 sqm.

He thought it might be the old room that had only good space. So, the setting price for renting is so cheap. But now, he is in front of the building.

He freezes, can't believe.

The building is tall, silver, and sharp-edged, like it has been dropped from a rich neighbourhood into a rotten corner of the city. It looks like it doesn't belong here...among rusted fences, alleyway garbage fires, and rows of abandoned stores.

The glass doors are clean. The lobby has marble floors and low golden lights. There is a faint smell of lavender. The woman at the front desk smiles without asking anything.

“Unit 999,” she says. “You can move in today.”

Yoo Joonghyuk signs the paper without asking why.

The poor don't get to be suspicious.

The room is huge.

Thirty square meters, fully furnished. A bed. A couch. A desk. Curtains that look new. Even a full-length mirror framed in gold. He walks the space twice just to convince himself it wasn’t a trick.

He doesn't see a single cockroach. There are no cracks and no stains on the wall. It's just quiet...too quiet.

But he doesn't complain.

He sits down and places his bag beside him. Plugs in his secondhand laptop. Sits cross-legged on the floor and eats instant noodles. Normally, he always spends his nighttime working on game analysis for the game's company until 2 AM. But tonight he falls asleep before midnight. It is something he hasn't done in years.

He doesn't notice the sound of footsteps in the hallway at night.

He doesn't notice the strange sound from the ceiling.

He doesn't notice the camera behind the painting in the hallway, or the way it follows him.

He doesn't notice the people watching.

---

They had seen him the moment he stepped through the gate.

Too good-looking. Too oblivious. Too clean. And looks soft.

No one moved into this building unless they were one of them. And Yoo Joonghyuk was not one of them.

They knew each other here. No greetings. No conversations. Just a quiet acknowledgement. Every tenant had killed someone, in one way or another. Some with knives. Some with poison. Some with contracts.

This place is their den.

But now, a new tenant.

Someone soft. Someone alone. Someone who didn’t know.

He was perfect.

They watched.

A week passed, and they noticed

He never locked his door twice.

He hummed quietly while brushing his teeth.

He looked away when people passed in the hallway.

He didn’t ask questions. He just seemed to enjoy working alone in his room.

They planned in silence.

A little game first. Then maybe fear. Then maybe—

But then...Then they saw him.

He didn’t live in the building.

He was the building.

Unit 000. The one no one spoke of.

Kim Dokja.

Nobody knew when he’d come. He was never on the cameras and never on the records. But they all knew his face. The heir of UW, a name that could make even the boldest turn cold.

And now...he was looking at the new tenant.

No expression. Just watching. Quietly. Intensely.

The way a butcher watches a bird that wandered into the slaughterhouse.

The tenants stepped back.

No one asked.

No one warned.

They waited.

Maybe Yoo Joonghyuk was already marked.

Maybe he belonged to him now.

And if he didn’t?

They would wait until they were sure.

---

Yoo Joonghyuk wakes the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee.

He doesn't drink coffee.

He checks his door. It is still locked.

He shrugs it off.

He is poor, tired, and just glad to have a place to sleep.

He never noticed the shift in the air.

He never saw the shadows move.

He never knew that ten different people had planned how they’d play with him...until they saw someone worse, already waiting.

---

[Talk~]

Ch.1 >> https://www.tumblr.com/fellina018/787932750964457473/orv-kdjs-collection-1-dokjoong?source=share

---

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t know when the voices stopped being his enemies.

At first, they screamed.

Run.

Fight.

Bite.

They called "Kim Dokja" a monster. They reminded him of home, of sunlight, of games he used to stream at night with his voice hidden behind a screen. They made him remember who he was.

But now the voices were quiet.

Just like he was.

---

[ Happy ]

He was good today.

He had knelt where Kim Dokja told him to, hands resting on his thighs, back straight, and eyes down. He didn’t tremble anymore when the door opened. Didn’t flinch at footsteps.

When Dokja placed a hand on his head, he leaned into it.

That was how the routine began.

"You're quiet," Kim Dokja said, stroking his hair like one might calm a frightened dog.

Yoo Joonghyuk nodded.

"Are you happy?"

He opened his mouth and...paused. The words were clumsy now, it's fragile....as if he hadn’t used his voice in years.

“I… I don’t know.”

Kim Dokja smiled. "That’s okay. I’ll show you how."

---

[ The Body Remembers ]

At night, when the lights went out and the cameras clicked softly above him, Joonghyuk sometimes forgot what month it was.

He remembered the cage. The spotlight. The starvation. But it all blurred now. Like bad dreams soaked in fog.

What stayed was touch.

When Kim Dokja had unchained him, bathed him, bandaged the wrists that he himself had torn open...those memories stayed warm.

He didn’t remember Kim Dokja’s violence as pain.

He remembered how gentle the hands were afterwards.

How they fed him, wrapped him in a blanket, and held him until the shivering stopped.

“You only panic because you don’t know you’re loved,” Kim Dokja had whispered once, brushing his wet hair back. “But I’ll show you. Over and over. Until your body knows.”

---

[ The First Smile ]

Yoo Joonghyuk was curled beside Kim Dokja’s leg when it happened.

They were on the floor, soft carpet, low light, the scent of chamomile, and faint antiseptic. Kim Dokja read aloud from a book, voice slow, patient, fingers stroking the back of Yoo Joonghyuk’s neck.

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t understand the story. He didn’t care.

He only cared about the warmth. The rhythm of the voice. The way the hand never stopped moving.

For a moment...just a breath...he smiled.

He didn’t realize he had done it until Dokja paused.

Then leaned close.

"That smile," Kim Dokja murmured, "is mine now."

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t deny it.

---

[Talk~]

Is this called Happy Ending? I don't know 😂

I may end KDJ's Collection here before it gets worse. Or if I get more ideas about this concept, I may continue lolol However, I found myself only thinking about how to make a broken YJH right now...TT

[ Found ]

Kim Dokja found Yoo Joonghyuk by accident. But once he saw that face, he couldn’t forget it. He wanted it. Needed it.

He wanted that face and that body to sit still, quiet, behind the glass wall in his private office. A perfect decoration. Something beautiful to keep forever.

Kim Dokja kidnapped Yoo Joonghyuk and put him in the room. There were no windows. The walls were soft-padded, like a hospital. There was one door. No handle from inside, and the only thing in the room besides the bed was a black camera blinking in the corner.

Yoo Joonhyuk tried to escape several times and used whatever tricks, but each failure brought him punishment.

---

[ Escape ]

This time, Yoo Joonhyuk also failed to escape.

He woke up with both wrists chained to the ceiling.

Naked.

Shaking.

That was the first time Kim Dokja broke a bone as a punishment.

“I didn’t want to do this,” Kim Dokja murmured, knuckles bruised, eyes glassy. “But if you want to be an animal, I’ll treat you like one.”

Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t scream.

His voice was gone.

The pain stayed. Even after the chains were removed, he crawled instead of walking. Flinched when shadows moved. Slept only when his body collapsed.

And Kim Dokja never shouted. Never raised his voice. He only smiled, cleaned his wounds, and whispered, “Why do you hurt yourself like this?”

Another escaped, another failed.

He woke up cold.

Tied to a metal chair.

Naked again. But this time in front of a mirror. The lights are too bright. Kim Dokja stood behind him in the reflection.

“What am I supposed to do with you?” Kim Dokja said softly. “Do you hate me that much?”

Yoo Joonghyuk spat blood.

Kim Dokja walked forward and cupped his cheek.

“You’ll learn,” he whispered. “Everyone learns. And when you do, you’ll thank me.”

Yoo Joonghyuk is still trying...this time, he almost succeeded.

He slipped through the dark tunnel. Ran into the street barefoot, bleeding, coughing.

He made it to the street for the first time!

He thought he saw people.

He thought he was saved.

But the car that pulled up was black, familiar.

Kim Dokja stepped out in a coat. Umbrella in hand.

He smiled like Yoo Joonghyuk was a lost pet finally found.

---

[ Punishment ]

Kim Dokja blindfolded him.

Stripped him. Gagged him. Also, he plugged his ears.

Tied his limbs open in the coldest room on display. The vibrator was plugged into his tight hole. The rotors were put to his glans, balls, and nipples. A spotlight above. No warmth. No sound. Just time.

He left him there for three full days.

No food. No water. No movement.

Yoo Joonghyuk was forced to climax and ejaculate continuously. Then he squirted, again and again. He fainted from overstimulation and also woke up from overstimulation.

He could only squirm his tied limbs. No way he could escape from this. His prostate, his glans, balls, and nipples were hurt. They were being stimulated till every part was red and swollen. Everything hurt. His brain almost stopped functioning. Pleasure became pain, then back to pleasure like a loop that has no ending.

Every muscle ached. Every joint screamed. He tried to beg, but he couldn't, then whimpered, then stopped. He urinated where he lay. Vomited bile while the mouth is gagged. Shivered outside until his lips turned blue.

He thought he saw his parents. Thought he heard his own voice whispering nonsense. Thought he was dying.

And just before his body gave out...

Warm hands touched his skin.

A soft voice.

“I’m here,” Kim Dokja whispered, untying him. “You did so well. My strong boy.”

Yoo Joonghyuk broke.

He sobbed like a child in Kim Dokja’s arms. Couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t understand why Kim Dokja’s scent was the first thing that made him feel alive again.

He didn’t know who he was anymore.

He didn’t care.

---

[ After that ]

When Kim Dokja asked him to crawl to his side the next day, Yoo Joonghyuk did.

When he was told to kneel and rest his head on Kim Dokja’s thigh, he did.

And when Kim Dokja whispered, “You’re mine now. Just mine,” Yoo Joonghyuk nodded.

Because somewhere in the dark...between punishment and pain...he had forgotten what freedom even meant.

---

Ch. 1 >> https://www.tumblr.com/fellina018/787856620748177408/orv-how-far-would-you-go-for-love-dokjoong?source=share

Ch. 2 >> https://www.tumblr.com/fellina018/787857311956860928/orv-how-far-would-you-go-for-love-dokjoong?source=share

---

It started with silence.

Not the empty kind Yoo Joonghyuk used to know, not the kind that filled the air when no one was waiting for him, when home was just four walls and cold leftovers.

No, this silence was warm.

Filled with the faint sound of fingers tapping keys.

The rustle of a page turning.

A soft hum from the kitchen.

The quiet, constant pulse of someone always there.

---

He didn’t remember when Kim Dokja started coming over more often.

It was gradual. A forgotten charger was left behind. A toothbrush in his cup. A notebook that ended up on Joonghyuk’s desk like it belonged there.

Then it was…

“It’s late. I’ll just crash here.”

Then…

“I have class nearby tomorrow anyway.”

And eventually…

“I sleep better here.”

That’s funny. Because Yoo Joonghyuk also slept better now.

---

He didn’t question anything.

When Kim Dokja started walking with him to his late shifts.

When Kim Dokja took him to stay at his condominium more often.

When Kim Dokja installed blackout curtains in Yoo Joonghyuk’s room “for better sleep.”

It all made sense.

Until one day, one of his classmates said casually during a break.

“You disappeared again last weekend. You ditching us for your sugar daddy or what?”

Yoo Joonghyuk looked up, startled. “What?”

He grinned, but there was something brittle in it.

“Come on. You’re never around anymore. And you’re not exactly struggling these days, huh?”

The others laughed, but Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t.

He wanted to say, It’s not like that.

But he didn’t know what it was like anymore.

---

Because Kim Dokja wasn’t loud.

He never told him not to go out.

He never said “no” outright.

He just suggested.

“It’s going to rain. Stay in tonight.”

“They’re not worth your time, you know.”

“You’ve been tired lately. Rest here.”

And it made sense.

Dokja always made sense.

Until Yoo Joonghyuk stopped making the decisions for himself…He couldn’t make it without glancing at Kim Dokja first.

---

The moment Yoo Joonghyuk realises something is wrong with himself.

He gets a text, an old friend from high school invites him to join today’s reunion dinner with other classmates.

He hesitates…but still standing, halfway through putting on his jacket, when Kim Dokja is still seated on the couch, reading something on his tablet, he speaks without looking up.

“Do you really want to go?”

Yoo Joonghyuk pauses. “...Yeah.”

Kim Dokja looks up…his eyes calm and distant.

His voice is gentle…so gentle.

“That’s fine. I’ll be gone when you get back.”

The words settle like lead in Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest.

He sits back down on the couch beside Kim Dokja.

He doesn’t reply to the text.

Kim Dokja doesn’t say anything. But when Yoo Joonghyuk looks over, there is a small smile playing on his lips.

Fond. Satisfied.

---

The night comes, while Dokja is asleep beside him, his breathing soft. Yoo Joonghyuk stares at the ceiling of Kim Dokja’s room,

His throat is tight.

His chest feels full and empty at once.

He reaches up, touching the sleeve of the expensive pyjama he didn’t buy.

It smells like lavender and clean rain.

Why does it feel like he’s borrowing this life?

He tries to imagine a day without Kim Dokja in it.

He can’t.

And that scared him more than anything.

---

There were days when Yoo Joonghyuk forgot who he used to be.

And then there were days like this…when he woke up alone.

The spot beside him on the bed was cold.

No scent. No weight.

Just silence.

Not the warm kind.

The kind he used to know.

The kind that ached.

---

It starts with the shoes.

Yoo Joonghyuk has been staring at them one morning. A pair of black leather boots which polished, seamless, and probably custom-made. They stood too proudly next to his worn-out sneakers at the door. Too clean. Too unfamiliar.

He realised, for the first time, that nothing he wore lately was his.

Not the jacket. Not the pants. Not even the subtle cologne on his collar.

All pieces of the gift, which he believed were “It’s secondhand.” Or “It’s not expensive.”

Always with a soft smile. Always with the words…

“If I didn’t give it to you, I’d throw it out anyway.”

So, he’d accepted. Again, and again.

---

But today, something snaps.

Yoo Joonghyuk stuffs the expensive boots back in the box. He decides to wear his worn-out sneakers and his old, frayed hoodie. He doesn’t touch the bento that has been neatly packed with his name written in clean, cursive handwriting.

He walks to class instead of taking the cab that Kim Dokja always insisted on. He eats a cup of ramen instead of the lunch that Kim Dokja orders the rider to deliver to him between his lectures.

When his classmates ask if he is sick…

“Nah. Just feels like doing things my way for once.”

In the evening, the wind bites at his hands, and his ribs hurt from coughing…maybe from the cold, maybe from the hunger, maybe from something else.

He still doesn’t text Kim Dokja.

He tells himself; he needs this.

---

When the night comes, Yoo Joonghyuk goes back to his own room, the one he has barely stayed in for weeks.

It smells like dust. The bed is harder. The air is dry.

And yet, he feels something like himself again. Raw. Flawed. Real.

He curls under the thin blanket with an ache in his chest and tells himself it will pass.

---

It doesn’t.

The next morning, he wakes up with a migraine and a fever just beginning to burn under his skin. His stomach turns at the thought of moving. Still, he forces himself up.

He barely makes it halfway down the hall when the world tilts.

And suddenly, Kim Dokja is there.

Silent. Calm. Like a shadow waiting for the sun to collapse.

He doesn’t ask permission. Just steps forward and catches Yoo Joonghyuk before he hits the floor.

Yoo Joonghyuk tries to protest, tries to say he is fine, he doesn’t need help, he is doing this on his own.

But Dokja’s voice is low and even.

“You can pretend you don’t need me, Joonghyuk-ah. But your body already knows the truth.”

And just like that, Yoo Joonghyuk stops struggling and lets himself be carried.

---

Later, as Kim Dokja places a cool hand against his forehead and whispers soft reassurances in the dark, Yoo Joonghyuk feels the stir of tears he can’t explain.

I wanted to be free. Stay strong. Independent. Like he used to be.

But freedom without him feels like frostbite. He doesn’t like it.

And Yoo Joonghyuk, since knowing Kim Doja, has never been good at suffering quietly.

So, he closes his eyes and presses his cheek into the pillow that smells like lavender and rain.

And doesn’t leave again.

---

[Talk~]

Ch. 4 >> https://www.tumblr.com/fellina018/789307554944761856/orv-how-far-would-you-go-for-love-dokjoong?source=share

I think I kinda enjoyed writing manipulated KDJ and the way he pampers YJH in his own way.

Today I updated a lot of chapters, and I may not update any new full chapters for about 10 days since I will go to take a vacation tomorrow night! I might come and update just a small scene that I wrote during the trip...I don't know LOLOL

Ch.1 >> https://www.tumblr.com/fellina018/786976865322729472/what-if-12-you-are-so-lovely-ch1-insomnia?source=share

---

Yoo Joonghyuk, 26 years old. No regular job.

He works 3 part-time jobs – in the morning as a delivery man, in the afternoon as a cleaner, and in the evening as a game streamer. Working in a cycle like this every day as it’s his daily routine – no breaks, no holidays.

He grew up in an orphanage. At the age of 15, a couple who claimed to be his real parents came and took him home.

At the age of 17, his parents were addicted to gambling and borrowed money everywhere. One day, they disappeared…gone without a word, leaving him behind to deal with the aftermath.

A debt of 4 billion won…

Suddenly, fell on his head and landed on his shoulders.

The loan sharks weren’t kind just because he is a teenager. They came in front of his shabby room – knocking at his door every morning, afternoon, and evening. Even followed Yoo Joonghyuk to his school, hounding him to the point that he was unable to continue his studies. In the end, he had no choice but to drop out.

Since then, he had been working nonstop, doing whatever he could to pay the interest of 200,000 won to the loan shark every single week. Day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, and now he is 26. No matter how hard he works, he can only pay interest continuously, never gets close to touching the principal.

There are also rent, food, water and electricity, and bills…

But what else can he do?

He can only keep going.

Life has to go on.

---

One evening, during his usual livestream. Yoo Joonghyuk sits in front of his secondhand computer, his channel only has over 100 viewers, which can’t call many. On lucky nights, he might get a decent donation or get nothing on the unlucky nights.

Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t a talkative person. He never shows his face on his livestream – well…his parents always said he is an ugly bastard, so it would be best not to show his face to scare the audience. If it wasn’t for his solid gameplay skills and he often analysing tactics, how to play, how to apply skills, etc., probably no one would have come to his channel at all.

His teammates in this match are quite chatty, their skills are just average, but they talk a lot about everything except the game match…a bit annoying. One of them keeps rambling about being broke, needing cash, and how hard his life is.

Yoo Joonghyuk wants to mute them all so badly, but he is afraid that it will affect his gameplay if he can’t communicate with his teammates, and cause him to lose the game. Losing might drop his viewer count and affect his donation…So, he has no choice but to keep listening – let it go in one ear and out another ear while staying focused on the match…firing at enemies, collecting and checking the items.

Then, in the middle of all that, he caught the snippet…something like...

If you’re good / great skills / K Park at the late night / heard the pay is really nice! and blah blah blah…

All the teammates burst into laughter, and the conversation moved on to other topics.

Money? That word alone was enough to attract all the attention from Yoo Joonghyuk. Anything about making money is interesting to him, which makes him regret and curse at himself a little for not listening more carefully.

When he thinks about asking them for more information, the screen shows “Your team WON.” Then he is back at the lobby game so suddenly.

Around 9 p.m., when his livestream ended, he quickly searched online for job information about K Park. But he can’t find a single piece of information. Yoo Joonghyuk frowns. Maybe it was just a joke, but he needs money badly. This month, his landlord had informed him that the rent would be increased. And in three days, he has to pay the interest to the lender again.

Real or not... he doesn’t know. But Yoo Joonghyuk decides to put on his old grey hoodie and matching sweatpants, wear a mask, grab his room key and phone, and leave his shabby room to check out the park.

When it comes to skills, Yoo Joonghyuk was quite confident in his cooking. Even though he has never cooked for anyone else before, he thinks this is the ability he is the most confident with, if he has to sell a skill.

Yoo Junghyuk didn’t finish high school and could not find a full-time job that required a degree. He could only do physical labour. Therefore, whatever he did could earn him more money. Yoo Junghyuk didn't have time to think too much... he just had to try.

If it is just a joke, there is no harm done. But if it is true, this can be his chance to earn more money.

---

Okay, maybe he is being scammed...

This thought comes into Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind as he sits stiffly on a bench in the middle of K Park for the past hour. He has seen several men and women sit on benches or lean against lampposts. All dressed in strange fashion styles. It was cold, and they wore so little…isn’t anyone worried about getting sick?

Eventually, he saw some people approaching others, talking openly about prices, then leaving together as pairs or small groups. It made Yoo Joonghyuk wonder... is it really that easy to make a deal?

Since he was a child, the kids around him at the orphanage always said that he looked fierce and scary, especially his eyes. That’s why Yoo Joonghyuk has no confidence in his appearance. Even during livestreams, he didn’t dare to show his face, afraid that his stern look would scare people away for nothing. He didn’t have many viewers to begin with. If he showed his face as requested by his viewers and ended up making them run away, that would be even worse.

It’s the same when coming out like this. Yoo Joonghyuk is afraid that if he shows his face and eyes, no one would dare approach him. A potential employer may see him and think he is scary before asking for details or discussing a price.

It's past 11 pm already. He still hasn't found a single good employer. The few people who approached him asked weird questions about his height, his body type, and whether he was a top or bottom. Some even asked about the size of his private parts! What the hell is this? He's not trying to sell himself for sex. He's afraid he'll lose his temper first. So, he can only shake his head and refuse.

Midnight... If he still can't get it by midnight, he'll go back to sleep... There's still delivery work early tomorrow morning.

“Hello,” someone greets him. The person has a slim build and a pale face with dark circles under his eyes, like someone who hadn’t slept. But the faint smile on his face makes him oddly pleasant to look at. The man keeps staring at him without taking his eyes off. However, he doesn’t ask any privacy-invasive questions like others looking for a hookup. Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t sure if the guy was just passing by to say hi or something else.

Still... this guy smells strongly of cigarettes...

“Are you a customer?” He doesn’t look like one at all. Doesn’t seem trustworthy either.

“Hmm… Are you selling?” Seeing the question like this, Yoo Junghyuk thought that this time would be a waste as usual. He can only nod instead of answering. No point in talking… However, he didn’t expect the other person to suddenly ask for the price, which caught Yoo Joonghyuk off guard. He ended up asking if the guy was sure he had the money.

“50,000 won, and you have to pay for the goods," he is being serious. This price for a meal isn’t considered cheap, and it doesn’t include the ingredients and other items. But he needs the money, and his skills are very good. Yoo Junghyuk is confident that he can cook food worth the price he has set. The other person seems like an ordinary salaryman who had to work late into the night without any OT. To be honest, Yoo Junghyuk doesn’t have much hope. He is even preparing to go home and sleep after this person refuses.

“What is your name?”

“Yoo Joonghuk, and you?” 

“Kim Dokja. The price is fine.  You come with me. If you do well, I’ll give you a nice tip~”

Ah… this was quite an unexpected answer. And hearing the word “tip” makes his ears perk up. He nods to show he understood and assures Kim Dokja that hiring him to cook is absolutely worth it.

---

Another thing he doesn’t expect is that the man…Kim Dokja is taking him to cook at a hotel…not just any ordinary hotel, but a very luxurious one... But it doesn’t matter. As long as the kitchen and ingredients are ready, Yoo Joonghyuk doesn’t care where he has to cook.

The hotel staff, from the doormen to the front desk, acts just like you’d expect from a high-end place. As soon as they see a guest arrive, they bow and greet them with a smile.

Kim Dokja... His employer seemed to have some money, huh?

“You’re acting like you’ve never been to a hotel before, darling,” The employer is clearly playful. Yoo Joonghyuk frowns at the word “darling,” but he chooses to let it go. Kim Dokja seemed like the kind of person who does whatever he wants. Never mind…at least he pays well and doesn’t haggle.

"Hmm, never." No money... How could a normal person stay at such a luxurious hotel?

“Then where do your clients usually take you?” 

“This is my first time selling.”

“Oh! Am I your first?” Yeah... call it a blessing. He has never cooked for anyone else before. But that is a thought he keeps to himself. He hasn’t been paid yet. If he accidentally lets his thought slips, the guy might suddenly want to cancel. So, he just nods in agreement.

As soon as Kim Dokja unlocks the hotel room, the size and luxury of it make Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes widen.

“You... don’t look rich at all.” So, this is what people meant when they said, “The truly rich don’t show it.”

“Darling~ you really shouldn’t judge people by their appearances. I may not look like it, but I am actually quite rich.”

It should be more than quite rich...

It is the nth time today that Yoo Joonghyuk has lost count and is telling himself to just let it go.

He scans the room briefly until his eyes land on the kitchen zone. It is spacious. Sleek. Equipped with top-tier appliances. The stove, the pans, even the knives…all arranged with precise care. Nice… really nice…

He finds himself already thinking of what he can cook - there should be some ingredients he can use. He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled it open, and froze.

There is almost nothing inside. Just bottles of mineral water, fancy ones in glass, along with several kinds of beers and drinks neatly packed like a bar. But not a single fresh ingredient. No vegetables. No meat. Not even eggs.

"... Why don’t you have any fresh ingredients in here?"

“This is a hotel, darling. Why would I need fresh food?”

"You said everything’s provided! What the hell am I supposed to cook with!?"

He has been tricked! Of course. Who in their right mind would expect to cook in a hotel room?

Kim Dokja, that two-faced liar! He said it was all ready. Said he had everything. But this? Nothing.

Is it because he's poor? Is this some joke to him? Some game?

How can he joke about money and job like this!?

Ch.1 >> https://www.tumblr.com/fellina018/787856620748177408/orv-how-far-would-you-go-for-love-dokjoong?source=share

---

Yoo Joonghyuk never asked for anything.

He didn’t have the time or energy to want things. Between back-to-back part-time jobs and full-time classes in the E-Sports program, the only thing he had left was survival.

And for that, he had rules.

Don't draw attention.

Don’t owe anyone.

Don’t accept anything you can't return.

He’d lived by them for years. They worked.

But lately, people had started looking at him strangely.

---

It started with the coat.

It wasn't branded. Just black, long, quiet…sleek in a way that shouldn't draw attention. But when he wore it, heads turned. The stitching was too clean. The fabric was too smooth. The shape was too exact, tailored like it belonged to someone whose name mattered.

He hadn’t asked for it. It had just been there, on his chair one morning, with a note that said: Wear it. It’s cold.

No name. But he knew.

Kim Dokja.

---

The next week, his shoes weren’t falling apart anymore.

The bag slung on his shoulder didn’t fray at the corners.

His clothes didn’t smell like the laundromat anymore, either.

They smelled like a clean warmth and fabric softener. Like someone had touched them with care. A kind of care Yoo Joonghyuk hadn’t felt in a long time.

And the thing that scared him the most was…

He didn’t return any of it.

---

People noticed.

In the department lounge, someone nudges their friends and whispers too loudly.

“Yoo Joonghyuk, that guy got a sponsor now or what?”

“Maybe a sugar daddy.”

“Dude, seriously, look at that coat. That’s not thrift store shit.”

Yoo Joonghyuk hears them. He just doesn’t look up.

---

Park Geonwoo, an e-sport student department, Yoo Joonghyuk’s classmate, who always wore Gucci knockoffs and thought he was hot shit, was the first to say something to his face.

“Yo! Joonghyuk,” he said one day, leaning too close over the cafeteria table, “new clothes again? What happened, you won the lottery?”

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t answer.

Geonwoo scoffed. “Guess some people know how to sell themselves better than others.”

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t want to waste his energy answering him.

The glances and the whispers didn’t stop.

Yoo Joonghyuk ignored them all.

He didn't care what they thought. He didn’t have the room to care.

What he did care about was how easily he’d gotten used to seeing Kim Dokja in the morning and night, either at his place or Kim Dokja’s place.

How, somehow, Kim Dokja was always there…on the stairs outside his building, at the gaming lab with an extra energy drink, on the bench where Yoo Joonghyuk took his 15-minute naps between shifts.

How Kim Dokja never asked for anything in return.

How Kim Dokja looked at him like he already belonged to him.

---

At night, after he finished his job, he lay in bed staring at the unfamiliar ceiling of Kim Dokja’s room. Sometimes, Kim Dokja would say “stay,” and yeah…he would.

Yoo Joonghyuk would tell himself this wasn’t dangerous.

He would repeat the same sentences in his head.

“It’s fine. It’s just temporary.”

“I won’t get used to it.”

“He’s just… like that.”

But deep down, he knew…

No one gives things for free.

And Kim Dokja gave too much.

---

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t know when it started.

Maybe it was the cracked phone screen that got replaced overnight.

Maybe it was the backpack with a torn strap that vanished, replaced by something soft, structured, and eerily new.

Or maybe it was the first time he caught himself hesitating…not because he didn’t need something but because he knew Kim Dokja would already be waiting with it in his hand.

It was subtle.

Always subtle.

---

“You’re still using this?” Dokja said once, holding up a battered old keyboard Yoo Joonghyuk had been clinging to for years. The keys had long lost their labels. The shift key stuck sometimes. It was familiar.

Yoo Joonghyuk nodded, shrugging. “Still working.”

Dokja tilted his head. His expression was unreadable. “Barely.”

Two days later, a mechanical keyboard appeared on Yoo Joonghyuk’s desk. Smooth. Silent. Perfectly weighted. It didn’t come with a note. But Joonghyuk knew.

He always knew.

---

It became a pattern.

A new pair of gloves after his old ones tore at the seams.

New sneakers that “just happened” to be his size.

A sleek, matte-black laptop that showed up when his school-issued one crashed.

Each time, Yoo Joonghyuk hesitated.

Each time, Kim Dokja dismissed it casually.

“I didn’t use it anymore.”

“It’s just collecting dust at home.”

“I’d throw it out anyway. Might as well let you use it.”

And each time… Yoo Joonghyuk believed him. Or made himself believe.

Because Dokja didn’t ask to give.

He just gave. Quietly. Without expectation.

Or so it seemed.

---

Yoo Joonghyuk knew he wasn’t smart, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew quality, even if there were no brand tags, the stitching spoke for itself, the balance of weight, the ease of use, the way everything fit him too well…

Nothing about them felt secondhand like Kim Dokja claimed

They felt intentional.

But Joonghyuk had rules. One of them used to be “Don’t accept anything you can’t return.”

That rule was fraying now.

Because Kim Dokja’s gifts didn’t feel like gifts. They felt like belonging.

---

Students in the e-sports department used to treat Yoo Joonghyuk like a background character since he was too poor to hang out with and too busy to be interesting.

But now?

Now, they looked at him with narrowed eyes.

Whispers circled around his back like gnats.

“Did he upgrade his PC setup?”

“He’s wearing that same coat again. Are we sure that’s not designer?”

“No way that’s his own money. I see he is still working at night.”

Even the professors seemed to look at him differently. Not kinder. Just more curious.

But the worst was Park Geonwoo, he’d taken to sneering whenever they passed each other.

“Must be nice,” he muttered one day. “Being someone’s favorite pet project.”

Yoo Joonghyuk said nothing. His hands balled into fists.

He wasn’t…but sometimes…he wondered.

---

The worst of it was how easy it became.

How he began to look forward to the soft scent of lavender and laundry detergent that clung to the new shirts folded in his drawer.

How his fingers memorized the curve of a wireless mouse that he heard his classmate said it's cost more than his monthly food budget.

How Kim Dokja’s room no longer felt like “someone else’s place” but just… somewhere he could breathe.

He hated it.

But he also wanted more of it.

And when Dokja would sit beside him during those long evenings, silent, warm, steady. Yoo Joonghyuk wouldn’t speak. Because some part of him knew…

He was being changed.

Kim Dokja never forced.

He just… reshaped. Smoothed out. Quietly rewritten his Yoo Joonghyuk.

---

One night, when Yoo Joonghyuk returned from a late shift and found his threadbare blanket gone and replaced by a heavy weighted one that smelled faintly of sage. He finally asked.

“Why do you keep doing this?”

Kim Dokja didn’t look up from the book he was reading. He just said, “Because you need it.”

Yoo Joonghyuk stood in the doorway, looking hesitant.

“You should stop.”

Kim Dokja turned a page, voice calm.

“Then throw it away.”

Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t. He never did.

---

Later that night, Yoo Joonghyuk wrapped himself in the warmth blanket he didn’t pay for, listening to the sound of Dokja typing beside him.

Yoo Joonghyuk whispered into the darkness.

“I can’t pay you back.”

Kim Dokja heard. He smiled.

“Good.”

---

One night, Kim Dokja saw Yoo Joonghyuk who is working part-time at a convenience store not far from his condominium.

It was past midnight. Rain had just stopped.

Yoo Joonghyuk was stacking drinks in the fridge with that blank expression, shoulders tight, and hands steady. A little slower than the average worker, but looks deliberate, like he couldn’t afford to waste a single movement and his energy.

Kim Dokja paused outside the store.

He didn’t go in.

Just watched through the glass.

Watched the way Yoo Joonghyuk shifted his weight, stretching his back once when no one was looking. The way he rubbed his eyes discreetly. The way he endured the silence.

There was something unbearable in that sight.

Something that hooked itself into Kim Dokja’s chest and pulled.

He began taking the path home by passing that same store every night.

-----

Tonight, Kim Dokja passes by the store just wanting to see him working his part-time job again as usual, but he spots him down the alley behind the building instead. Yoo Joonghyuk walks very slowly with unsteady steps toward the slum district at the edge of the university zone.

Kim Dokja frowns.

And then he sees Yoo Joonghyuk collapse.

There is no sound, just the dull thud of body against wet pavement.

Kim Dokja reaches out to him, seeing Yoo Joonghyuk trying to push himself up with his trembling hands. His tan skin burned with fever.

“It’s okay. I’m fine,” he murmured hoarsely.

Kim Dokja crouched beside him. “I don’t think so.”

When Kim Dokja takes his arm, he is surprised…genuinely surprised at how light Yoo Joonghyuk is.

Yoo Joonghyuk has a tan skin, his figure is tall with broad shoulders, hands calloused from working, and his waist is so…slim.

Just by looking, you may not know, but when you are touching, you can feel it crystal clear…his body felt brittle like a hollow frame held together by nothing but willpower.

“Your address?” He asked.

You Joonghyuk doesn’t respond.

“Then I will take you to my place.”

Yoo Joonghyuk answers in a whisper.

Kim Dokja smiles.

-----

Kim Dokja carries him home. The room is smaller than Kim Dokja expected. Old stains on the wall. An old fan instead of air conditioning. A single old mattress with no bed frame. One desk, two cracked bowls in the old but clean, and an old PC setup barely holding together.

Dokja lays Yoo Joonghyuk down gently.

The fever was high, which had probably been building for days. He finds a small rag, wets it, and sits beside the mattress, dabbing Yoo Joonghyuk’s forehead in silence.

Yoo Joonghyuk mumbles in his sleep, frowning even in unconsciousness.

And something in Dokja... shifts.

He has taken care of people before, his adoptive parents and Biyoo-ya.

But this… is different.

This isn’t about obligation or protection.

Yoo Joonghyuk is a stranger, and now he lies vulnerable at his feet.

And for some reason... Kim Dokja wanted him like this.

He wants Yoo Joonghyuk to just… need him.

His fingers curl against the damp cloth, and then he breathes slowly.

This feeling...it isn’t affection. It isn’t pity.

Kim Dokja knows it too well…

He needs to make Yoo Joonghyuk “his”.

It’s a “possessiveness”.

-----

Kim Dokja had learned early in life that...love...in its rawest form...was power.

He doesn't need grand gestures, doesn't need to hold Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand, or say gentle things under the soft lights like they described in web novel's romance.

No...

Kim Dokja understands something far more dangerous.

Love was about presence, consistency, and being the one person who stayed.

So, he stays...

---

“Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No.”

“Come with me.”

They eat together more often now before Yoo Joonghyuk starts his night part-time shift.

Yoo Joonghyuk never asks why, and Kim Dokja never explains either.

He always brings extra sandwiches, the kind of Yoo Joonghyuk likes. Never spicy. Always packed clean and neat.

Joonghyuk mutters, “You don’t have to keep doing this.”

Kim Dokja just tilts his head and replies simply, “I want to.”

Joonghyuk doesn’t answer back and finishes the sandwiches.

Kim Dokja smiles subtly.

That’s enough.

---

Kim Dokja was very careful.

He never offered money.

Never offered help too directly.

Never touched where it would bruise Joonghyuk’s pride.

But he left things behind by accident.

A box of painkillers.

An unopened vitamin bottle.

A spare umbrella in Yoo Joonghyuk’s torn backpack.

Every time Yoo Joonghyuk tried to return them, Kim Dokja always played dumb.

“Oh, that was mine?”

“Huh. Thought I lost it.”

“Keep it. I’ve got another.”

By the third week, Yoo Joonghyuk stopped trying to return things.

---

One day, Kim Dokja stepped inside Yoo Joonghyuk’s room again, and it was a rainy day.

There was only one chair, so Kim Dokja sat on the floor like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Yoo Joonghyuk was tired. His eyes were ringed with dark. He smelled faintly of rain and something clean. Like soap with no scent.

Kim Dokja sat cross-legged, hands folded in his lap, and watched Yoo Joonghyuk drying his hair with a thin towel.

“You're always this quiet?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked.

“Only around people I don’t want to scare away.”

Joonghyuk huffed a breath that might’ve been amusement. Or not.

Later, Yoo Joonghyuk fell asleep on the floor with his back against the wall.

Kim Dokja stayed sitting.

Didn’t move.

Just watched the rise and fall of Yoo Joonghyuk’s chest.

Felt the room around him grow warm, filled with something unfamiliar.

He didn’t need to touch.

Not yet.

But when Yoo Joonghyuk’s fingers twitched toward the side where Kim Dokja sat, barely brushing against his knee…

He felt like he’d been touched more deeply than ever before.

-----

Kim Dokja had always been good at pretending.

He could smile and tilt his head, laugh politely, and ask about your day without meaning a word of it. That was how he survived…how he made people drop their guard.

But lately, he didn’t have to pretend anymore.

Not with Yoo Joonghyuk.

Because everything he did was real.

Every sandwich and dinner he brought to Yoo Joonghyuk was real.

Every night he spent listening to Yoo Joonghyuk breathe in that tiny, shabby, stained and peeling-walled room was real.

It frightened him…sometimes, how easy it was to want Yoo Joonghyuk.

And how hard it was becoming not to claim him.

---

When Joonghyuk smiled, rare, tired, and unguarded.

Kim Dokja would feel a low, almost sickening twist in his gut.

He didn’t want to share that smile with the world.

Didn’t want anyone else to hear Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice when he mumbled things in his sleep.

Didn’t want anyone else to know that he sometimes talked to broken plants on the balcony like they could grow just from his will alone.

He wanted it all to himself.

Every version of Yoo Joonghyuk.

All sides of him, the angry one, the soft one, the quiet, the broken, and the tired one.

Also, the sides even Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t understand himself.

Especially those.

---

Kim Dokja started keeping notes.

Not in a creepy way. Not really.

Just… things Yoo Joonghyuk said.

Things he liked.

The times he came back home.

When he forgot to eat.

How challenging the e-sport training program is.

When he stared at his phone too long after getting a message.

It wasn’t stalking. It was care.

It wasn’t controlled. It was attention.

It wasn’t love.

It was something better.

Because love could fade.

But this hunger…this need to be irreplaceable, to be his only place to fall…

It didn’t go away.

---

Tonight, it’s almost morning. Yoo Joonghyuk comes back later than usual.

Kim Dokja stays at Yoo Joonghyuk’s room as it’s his, when he hears the footsteps coming…he opens the door before the other can knock on the door and is soaked from the rain. He looked exhausted, the kind of exhaustion you can’t sleep off.

Yoo Joonghyuk said nothing, just stood there dripping.

Kim Dokja steps into the room without a word, grabs his bag, and returns to stand at the door once more.

“Come and sleep at my place.” He said firmly. No negotiation.

Yoo Joonghyuk looked at him, eyes shadowed and unreadable.

For a second, he looks like he may argue, then he nods…slowly, looks like a lost child who doesn’t know what to do next.

He lets Kim Dokja take his hand and leads him to his place.

At Kim Dokja’s condominium, when Yoo Joonghyuk is asleep on Kim Dokja’s large bed, barely breathing, his hand curls near Dokja’s pillow…Kim Dokja lies awake beside him, staring at his tired face.

It's so easy.

So easy to touch his hair.

To brush his fingers over that tired face.

To whisper things he has never said to anyone.

But he doesn’t move.

Because Kim Dokja doesn’t want just a moment.

He wants forever.

---

Yoo Joonghyuk is known to be an awkward, quiet guy. That’s all people around him really know.

But behind the scenes, he’s actually a horny little freak...into toys, lingerie, lace panties, and anything sexy. He runs an OnlyFans account where he shows off his body but never his face.

Kim Dokja, is a businessman by day and a well-known Accor by night. His account is faceless but always seen only with his signature black leather gloves, polished leather shoes, his sleek leather whip, and a collection of high-end toys he uses with different partners.

One of them wants to be used, whipped, wrecked, left shaking in a puddle of drool and cum.

Another one wants to turn that plump, round ass red and bruised...paint it with his whip and his handprints. Stuff that greedy hole until it drips, looses, gapes, and needy like a bitch in heat.

---

Talk~

Kim Dokja suffers from a chronic disease of Insomnia – quite intense and severe enough that he never sleeps more than 2-3 hours per day, or some days he can’t even sleep. Another one is a heavyweight in Nicotine Addiction – which makes people around him think that he can have Lung cancer anytime.

Over the past few months, people around him noticed that Kim Dokja’s condition was getting worse. Just seeing his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes makes them worried. Not to mention the smell of nicotine that stings their nose as if he was bathed in nicotine. Han Sooyoung is the first one who picks up the refresher spray and spray it all over the room.

“Dokja-ssi, why don’t you take your day off and go see Dr. Seolhwa for a check-up? There aren’t many projects right now. You can rest for a few more days – consider it as a short vacation leave. If there is anything important or urgent, I’ll let you know immediately.” Yoo Sangah said gently with concern.

Kim Dokja, who was leaning his back on the sofa in the middle of the room, stretching himself from the exhaustion and his aching body, gave Yoo Sangah a lazy wave of his hand – brushing Yoo Sangah's suggestion away before speaking with a tired tone.

“No need, Sangah-ssi, I still have many meds from the previous visit left in my room. Going now is a bit of a waste of money. If it gets worse, I will ask Seolhwa-ssi for the check-up again.”

Hearing Kim Dokja say that, people have to drop this matter and let it go. Everyone knows how stubborn Kim Dokja can be, underneath his easygoing appearance is the iron wall of will. Things that he doesn’t want to do, no one can force him to do them.

Kim Dokja tried to run through the important documents, information, and reports that were sent to him via his laptop with Yoo Sangah – his assistant, until the evening, and before Han Sooyoung’s complaints continued further, he let Yoo Sangah finish her work for the day.

If you think being a crown prince of UW will make you live a luxurious life and be comfortable, well…you're not entirely wrong,…but not entirely right either.

UW runs many legal and underground businesses across Europe, America, and Asia. All regional branch heads were seasonal veteran old foxes – they had quite a power, full of ego and pride. Mostly, there were working their ass off alongside his adoptive parents for so long. Basically, they acted like nice uncles and treated him with respect as a crown prince because of his parents’ power and influence. However, Kim Dokja is sure if he slips up…they will definitely stab him in the back.

So, it’s not that he doesn’t trust Yoo Sangah, Hayoung, and his people, but there are many things that he thinks if he goes through those documents himself, it will make him feel at ease, at least.

At 10 PM. – Kim Dokja finally shuts his laptop and leaves his office. He is a little hungry now. So, he might drop by a convenience store and grab something warm and easy to eat first, then go to rest at one of his hotels nearby, since tonight he didn’t feel like going back to his apartment.

Just another dull and boring night…

He can’t help but take out the metal case of his cigarettes from his coat. Kim Dokja was addicted to cigarettes, but he didn’t have a habit of rushing to light and smoke them right away when he took them out of his cigarettes. He tends to use his slender pale fingers to take out the cigarette from his favorite metal case and roll the cigarette slowly, then place it between his lips with no rush. Kim Dokja always takes his time with each smoking, taking it leisurely and enjoying it.

Nicotine always makes his troubled head lighter.

By the time Kim Dokja arrived at the convenience store, the cigarette had burned halfway down. He took one last long inhale of nicotine into his lung, then exhaled slowly, watched the smoke that was being exhaled drift into the air before fading into the cold wind… and crushed the burned tip against the cigarette tray on the corner in front of the convenience store, then walked into the store.

At least, he didn’t have a bad habit of leaving cigarette butts on the street.

It was 10:30 PM., there weren’t many people inside, and most seats in the small dining area near the windows were empty.

Kim Dokja makes his way to the ready-to-eat food section, scanning the shelves to consider what to eat with a thoughtful gaze.

Okay, he decided…Omurice with Korean kimchi for tonight might not be bad.

Kim Dokja isn’t picky when it comes to food – if it is just a matter of eating to live. However, whether he likes it or not is another story.

Up until now, there had been no one whose cooking made him crave their food for once or want to invite them to be his personal chef like his adoptive parents.

The scent of warm omurice that had just been heated up stirred his stomach, which had been empty since the afternoon. He takes his food and makes his way to the window seat.

The taste of omurice from the convenience store isn’t tasty, and Korean kimchi is just okay. The overall meal was just another bland one. What a pity...nothing seems to be going well, and everything feels off lately. And his Insomnia makes it worse.

He has only eaten a few bites, but his appetite is gradually decreasing. Kim Dokja craved to light another cigarette instead of continuing to eat, but he didn’t do that. He skipped the afternoon meal already. If he still skips this night meal…his stomach will definitely protest tomorrow, and Kim Dokja hates being sick.

Insomnia is already enough, and if he had both a headache and stomach at the same time…well, tomorrow might be a nightmare for sure. Thinking that way, Kim Dokja sighs and forces himself to eat a bit more, just enough to settle his stomach.

Glancing at the watch on his wrist, it is almost midnight. His body feels fatigued, and he is pretty tired right now – however, Kim Dokja doesn’t think he could fall asleep tonight.

Such another restless night, he might only lie down and read his web novels and take a short nap as usual…

It’s not that Kim Dokja doesn’t want to sleep, but he can’t sleep…

Over the past few years, whether taking the meds, ASMR methods, natural therapy, or whatever methods suggestions… Kim Dokja has been trying so many methods, but none of that is worked. He took pills to the point that they couldn’t give him a full night's sleep anymore.

When the exhaustion began to sink too deep, it numbed his brain and twisted his mood, and he would often get irritated. Kim Dokja hated it.

Cigarettes helped. He feels much more relaxed when he smokes, it dulls his frustration and irritation, and that was the reason he has a heavy smoking habit.

There is a small park near the hotel. Kim Dokja doesn’t know why tonight he thinks it isn’t a bad idea to stop by and take a short detour and then head to the hotel.

The park is quite dark with the dim light – it should be a quiet and peaceful night, but Kim Dokja hears the strange noise with the panting sounds – he can’t help but frown a bit. Along the way, Kim Dokja notices the figures tangled up with each other in the dark bushes. Oh…Never thought that this place would be the meeting spot for outdoor sex.

He wants to turn around. But he has already walked halfway through, and going back would only double the effort. Kim Dokja decides to keep walking, and he spots a figure seated alone on one of the benches off to the side.

A tall man in a hoodie with his head covered completely, old sweatpants, and a mask covering his mouth, sitting quietly by himself, looking a bit out of place.

Kim Dokja continues walking toward the other side of the park. He just wants to get out, lie on his bed, and read until he passes out for an hour or two. That’s the plan. But for some reason, he feels something is bothering him, and before he can realise it…he walks back. The same man is still sitting there, but he isn’t alone now.

There is a group of people – mixed with men and women, talking to the hoodie man who keeps shaking his head, it seems like they couldn’t make an agreement. The group ends the talk with a loud curse before walking away. The hoodie man still sits with his head down, silent and not moving.

“Hello~” Kim Dokja walks up, stands before him, greets him with a cheerful voice, and gives him a soft smile. The man slowly looks up, meeting his eyes through his bang – it’s quite long, dark, curled, and messy that covering most of his face.

Wow!...

Kim Dokja whistles softly. This was his first surprise. Even though he could only see a glimpse of the man’s eyes, he was pretty sure…there must be a handsome face hiding behind that messy hair and the mask.

The other party didn't answer him, but Kim Dokja didn’t care about his cold response and indifferent attitude. Deep in his heart. He has the urge to remove the annoying bang and take off the mask that covered his face. It was a bit of a perverted curiosity.

“Are you a customer?” 

Oh! Another surprise. The low, deep, and a bit husky voice of his is quite pleasant to his ears. Even with most of his face hidden, Kim Dokja can still see his thick eyebrows furrow together as if they are going to tie a bow.

“Hmm…are you ‘Selling’?” He asked back. A little amused. To be honest, judging from his expression, his looks, and his condition, Kim Dokja didn't think so. But when the hooded man gives a small and awkward nod, he can’t help but raise his eyebrows high.

This must be the third surprise... Maybe tonight he'll be able to do some activities instead of reading web novels before falling into a short sleep.

“How much?” The other tilted his head in confusion. Kim Dokja thinks he is quite adorable in an odd way. 

“How much do you charge, young man~?” Kim Dokja asked again with a teasing tone.

“Are you…sure you have money?” The deep, husky voice that Kim Dokja thinks was pleasant listening speaks with hesitation. It’s obvious that this man doesn’t trust him. But that question made Kim Dokja 's nerves at the temples twitch for a moment.

Ha! That was a first – someone doubting if he could afford something. If HSY were here, she’d probably laugh her head off.

“50,000 won, and you have to pay for the goods." the man finally said in a serious voice. For Kim Dokja, that was pocket change. Did he really look so broke that even 50,000 won seemed out of reach?

“What is your name?”

“Yoo Joonghuk, and you?” Hmm…what a nice name.

“Kim Dokja, you come with me. If you do well, I’ll give you a nice tip~” There was a brief sparkle in the man’s eyes for a moment before he nodded and said confidently.

“I’m confident in my skills and I’m very good at what I do.”

Okay… Kim Dokja likes that confidence! His first time paying for ONS – it doesn’t seem like it is going to be so bad after all.

“You want me to do it at the hotel?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked when both of them were standing in front of his hotel. “Hmm? Where else? Or do you wanna go to my place instead?” he teased.

“It doesn’t matter to me. Just… does the hotel have everything we need?”

The fourth surprise…

Yoo Joonghyuk likes toys, huh?

No wonder they said you can’t judge a person by their appearance.

“Don’t worry, we have everything there.” He holds Yoo Joonghyuk’s hand – big, warm, and a bit rough…it’s nice to hold. Then leads them into the lobby.

The staff at the front door bowed politely the moment they saw him. Kim Dokja simply nodded back, not paying them much attention – His focus now all on Yoo Joonghyuk, the person he was holding hands with now is much more interesting.

He leads Yoo Joonghyuk straight to the private elevator inside. Kim Dokja first thought about taking him to a room in Zone B, but if they are going to use “toys”, maybe Zone A is a better fit.

“You’re acting like you’ve never been to a hotel before, darling,” Kim Dokja said playfully.

“I haven’t.” Yoo Joonghyuk replied simply.

Hmmmm…

“Then where do your clients usually take you?” Kim Dokja asked genuinely curious tone. Or did they usually not go to hotels but to motels instead?

“This is my first time selling.” His serious tone made Kim Dokja pause.

“Oh! Am I your first?”

For some reason, seeing the head under the old grey hoodie nod, Kim Dokja can’t help but feel Yoo Joonghyuk is quite endearing, oddly.

When they reached his private floor, Kim Dokja used his fingers to unlock the door and invited the other person in.

“You… don’t look rich at all.”

“Darling~ you really shouldn’t judge people by their appearances. I may not look like it, but I am actually quite rich.”

Kim Dokja takes off his coat and hangs it up. From the corner of his eye, he sees Yoo Joonghyuk look around the room before slowly walking straight to the kitchen area – an area Kim Dokja had never used before.

Yoo Joonghyuk opens the drawers to examine the belongings before opening the refrigerator to look inside.

“Why don’t you have any fresh ingredients?” he asked.

“This is a hotel, my dear. Why would I need fresh food?”

“I asked and you said that you had everything here! Then how am I supposed to cook for you without any ingredients?”

…Huh?

-----

[Talk~]

It’s like these two are talking on completely different channels, lol. KDJ... you probably looked really broke - pale face, dark circles... It’s honestly not surprising if YJH wasn’t sure whether you had any money at all 😂

YJH had heard the rumors before.

“If you’re alone at the school library after 8 PM and someone calls your name - don’t answer.”

It was an old story. One that upperclassmen told the first-years just to scare them. A joke. A harmless prank.

At least, that’s what Joonghyuk always thought.

He had laughed when he first heard it, brushing it off as a silly campfire tale. Who would believe something like that? Ghost stories were for kids, and he wasn’t the type to scare easily.

That evening, he had been cramming for exams between stacks of old, dust-laden books. The soft scratch of his pen and the flickering overhead lights had become a lullaby. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. But he did.

When he opened his eyes, everything felt wrong.

Now, standing alone in the dimly lit library, long after the janitors had locked the main doors, the silence felt too thick...too heavy. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered once. Then again.

And then -

"Joonghyuk-ah..."

The voice was soft. Gentle. Like someone familiar calling from between the shelves.

His heart skipped a beat.

He didn’t mean to answer.

He really didn’t.

But his mouth moved before his brain could stop it.

"...Yes?"

The lights went out.

-----

Talk ~

This is still just a rough idea, but I’m scared I’ll forget it 😣