#multiple dimensions

The morning of November 4th, 2024, Hwang In-ho, the Front Man, wakes up in a Seoul apartment he doesn't recognize, and a husband that he very much does. And then his daughter, his dead wife's child, climbs into the bed with them, alive and nine years old now and the most perfect thing In-ho has ever seen.

Despite the shock, the doubt, the confusion, In-ho finds himself very quickly falling in love with this soft life, this kinder reality where neither he nor Seong Gi-hun ever touched the Games, this world where their daughters walk to school together and Jun-ho stops by for coffee and his mother calls casually to ask what Gi-hun wants for his birthday.

But this Gi-hun knows his husband, and he knows something is wrong. And In-ho knows he can't stay. Not when the gears of time are still churning in another, colder reality.

Meanwhile, Hwang In-ho, private investigator, husband to goofy, good-hearted Seong Gi-hun, father to Hwang Ji-ah and stepfather to Ga-yeong, wakes up in a world of horror and blood, a world where he himself is the villain... a world where his husband hates him.

-_-_-

Welp, I said I'd do it!

This fic is intended to be kind of fast and fun, hopefully something I can update often and regularly with pretty short chapters. 🤞🏻

-_-

Whereever he's going, only he knows

⚠️CONTENT WARNING FOR GORE BTW!!!⚠️

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They’ve lived a lot of lives.

And not really lives, more like moments. They can’t really remember the first, it being so long ago.

When it began, they thought they were dreaming, and then they didn’t return, and now here they are.

Drowning in lives and stories, some they return to, others not. They see beginnings and ends, love and death, creation and destruction.

Reoccurring worlds were the worst. Past mistakes staring blankly, punishments for things they didn’t do, but who would believe them? No one has, it’s likely no one ever would if they did tell.

Death was a reoccurring theme.

They’ve felt it, it’s claws digging into their skin, the pain lasting multiple worlds, until it subsides to a dull throb, constantly there, a firm reminder.

It’s happened four times, four of their own deaths that follow like a phantom.

A shot through the heart, saving a life, throwing away one, having someone throw away yours.

They were all unique, all held their own pain. It was supposed to be an ordinary dinner party, an ordinary day being a hero, being a servant, being controlled…

The dinner party, they were just supposed to have a family dinner, who knew their grandfather would have a gun? Who knew that’s when they would first feel Death’s lips, after living for so long, they never thought it possible.

The pain in their chest had practically disappeared when the next happened. Hundreds of worlds, and the ache lived on, but again, a firm reminder of what could happen.

One world they woke up a hero, living the day saving civilians with their quips and webs, until a super villain gets an upper hand, and pierces their gut. They somehow defeat the villain, but end up in a puddle of their own blood, wondering if they died in vain.

Right after this, they woke up in a world where they were an Angel, an obedient servant ready to do the Lord’s work.

And they stayed there. Days and days passing with no change, this world slowly became their only reality.

One day a new Angel joined, and they showed him around. Maybe they become friends, maybe more…

They were banished and thrown down anyways, finally not being alone in their death, they held on tight, feeling a sickening crack from his body before blinding pain went through theirs.

They woke up in a red covered bed, swallowing screams.

The worlds continued after that, their bones ached, their mind ached, they were so tired.

Worlds continued, some just going through a day of school, others a 9-5 job, even a video game character.

This was something they missed, just everyday changing, their past staying their, their deaths staying in the past, it was perfect.

They didn’t have to think.

And then they woke up with a mask on their face, digging into their flesh, mind going blank, different flashes of memory missing.

People to love, people to lose, choices to make, people to put faith in, everything on the line.

This felt different, this world, the door to other worlds…

The blanks in memory got worse, different rooms, but the mask was always there, always digging, sometimes shocking…

Choices they didn’t make.

Friends, people who have been in other worlds being there.

Most people in their different worlds stayed constant if they payed close enough attention, but they were all familiar faces.

They needed to save them.

And they didn’t.

They couldn’t even save themselves.

In the end, with everyone’s bloods on their hands, they begged for it all to end.

Even with the mask they felt blood trickle from their mouth down their throat, begging for them to chose death, for it to end because it meant everything would end.

The spikes dived into their skull.