#secretive plotter x reader

Sighing to yourself, you lounge with your friends, bored out of your minds with nothing to do. Well, that is until everyone felt a presence with them.

■■■

Secretive Plotter

You attempted to sink further down into the couch as everyone else attempted to find something to do.

It was then a certain man approached you, “Hey, doing something?” Dokja asked you, sitting on the couch as well as he opened his phone, probably scrolling through the novel he read again.

You only sneered in return, obviously bored out of your mind. Noticing your boredom, Dokja gave you a little notice, “Have you noticed, one of the constellations?” he started. You turned towards him in return, “Which one? We know a few of them, remember?” you replied in which Dokja pointed towards the sky through the window close by, a star shining a bit brighter than the others, not incredibly, but it was there.

Still not getting him, your eyebrows furrowed thinking, “That could be anyone, like Uriel…?”

“That’s not her, I would know as her incarnation,” Heewon said, crossing her arms as she approached me and Dokja, “If I were any better I’d say it could be that plotter guy…” she added, followed by Uriel’s message.

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ lightly held a laugh towards something.]

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ asks if you have noticed anything.]

“Notice anything about what? Every one of you is confusing me…” you grumbled, looking around as everyone looked at you with slight shock, even Uriel was a bit shocked.

“You really haven’t noticed everything?” Heewon asked just as Jihye joined beside Heewon, asking what was going on before Heewon explained to her the premise.

Jihye, the ever so cheerful yet something of a woman, spoke without a thought, “Oh, you mean you haven’t noticed that one constellation hovering over you like he’s your sponsor?” Jihye asked, causing everyone to freeze while you looked at her in shock.

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ lets out a squeak before lightly asking to be careful.]

You didn’t even need to ask about what Uriel meant by ‘be careful’ when you felt the atmosphere around everyone suddenly thickens, the star Dokja pointed to earlier slightly flickered.

You couldn’t even fathom what you just heard, Secretive Plotter? That mysterious constellation? Hovering over me when he wasn’t even my sponsor? But now that you think about it, the constellation has been talking to you through the pings, but you always thought he was just like that to everyone, apparently not.

“Dammit…” you cursed, connecting everything.

“You finally realized, huh?” Heewon said, hearing you curse. You nodded in reply before speaking, “I thought he was just like that to anybody else…” you reasoned, but then you got a reply.

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ scoffed at your line of thoughts.]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ calls you oblivious.]

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ chuckled at the Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ for getting worked up over this.]

Worked up over what? You thought to yourself before Heewon patted your shoulder, “It’s up to you on this one now,” she said before she walked away, followed by Jihye, who seemed to give a peace sign before following Heewon.

You looked over towards Dokja for any help on what the constellations are talking about, who only shrugged his shoulders and left, leaving you with your thoughts and the constellation everyone is saying to be interested in you.

“What even is going on…?” you grumbled, slumping into the couch further again.

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ scoffed at you.]

You scoffed in return, this constellation is giving you mixed signals, it is confusing.

“Alright, what do you want? I don’t… I don’t get this entire thing, heck, you’re not even my sponsor!” you grumbled, raising your hands up.

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ retorts that you haven’t chosen any constellation to be your sponsor.]

You stared at the message in confusion, is this what it’s all about?

As if reading your thoughts, Secretive Plotter sent another ping.

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ tells you that it won’t be long until you need one.]

Wow, rude. You thought to yourself as Uriel -who is seemingly still here instead of with her sponsor- replied to you for him.

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ translated Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’s words.]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ wishes for you to be the Constellation’s Incarnation by the Constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’.]

You stared dumbfoundedly at what Secretive Plotter meant by his words from Uriel’s, were you that interested towards him?

“Is that… Really what this is?” you asked towards Secretive Plotter, who took a few moments to answer, seemingly deciphering what to say before swallowing down the constellation’s stubbornness.

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ confirmed the Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’s words.]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ yields that he found you interesting from the rest of the incarnations.]

You huffed, smiling at the message. So, all that ‘hovering’, he found you interesting. The mysterious constellation found you interesting.

Still in thought, you were brought out when the constellation sent another message.

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ threatens you to not tell this to anyone.]

Chuckling in reply, you shrugged, seemingly making the atmosphere thicken once more, “I don’t know, I could keep a secret, but I don’t know about Uriel,” you answered.

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ grumbled in agreement.]

You could only chuckle again at his reply.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

Nanook : Honkai Starrail

The train of the Astral Express had been quieter than before, Welt and Himeko lightly conversing on the other side of the lounging area, Pom-Pom somewhere else in the train, Dan Heng inside the data bank once more, and March, Caelus, and Stelle were talking around the pictures March had taken.

Meanwhile, you quietly napped on the slightly curved couch of the lounge, arms crossed, napping away. March even managed to snap a few photos while Himeko chuckled from where she was with Welt.

It was all of a sudden you snapped awake, flinching back at you awoke, immediately looking down on the palm of your hand as it was now seemingly containing particles of what seemed to be golden sand.

March and the two knuckleheads approached you in concern, noticing you jerk awake.

“Hey, are you okay? You woke up pretty hard,” March asked, the two however, stayed quiet as they noticed the particles in your hands before looking back at each other. They knew.

“Sorry, not really a good dream happened,” you apologized, rubbing the back of your neck, trying to seemingly act alright.

Then Stelle called your name and pointed towards the golden sand in the palm of your hand, “Are you aware of this?” She asked, Caelus looking at you with a similar question in mind. It didn't take another minute for Himeko and Welt to approach you guys.

“What is it?” Welt asked before noticing the sand as well.

“It was from Nanook, wasn't it?” Caelus asked, already knowing the answer as you nod.

“But, hey, I'm fine. It's alright, THEY didn't do anything to me, just had me there in the palm of THEIR hand…” you reasoned with them as if your words were the most normal thing combined.

The team looked at you in shock as they took in your word. The Aeon of Destruction? Nanook THEMSELF? Let a mortal -a nameless and a trailer of the path of trailblazing- chill by THEM? While THEY were possibly creating destruction and havoc on another far side of the universe?

You seemed concerned and worried for their reactions -and yourself- and decided to speak, “Was it bad?” You asked, voice slightly wavering.

“Sweetie, you told us an aeon, Nanook at that, allows you to be at the palm of THEIR hand while they possibly cause destruction with THEIR other hand…” Himeko slowly explained, followed by Welt and Caelus nodding.

“How long has this been happening?” Stelle asked, shaking hands pointing at you. There's no way the first aeon who gave THEIR gaze at Stelle and Caelus was now chilling with a human.

“... Ever since I joined the astral express…?” You slowly answered, earning another wave of dumbfounded looks from them.

“Daily?!” March asked, you nodded, “I never thought about it… Should I-”

“Yes, you should,” Welt said rather concerningly, now dumbfounded at your obliviousness at the situation.

It was then they felt the train rumble, lights flickering as everyone stopped hogging you to look around until March exclaimed pointing at the window behind me.

“G-guys, is it me… O-or the stars are aligning to look like…” March trailed off, Caelus and Stelle noticed it as well, then Himeko and Welt.

It was then when you turned, your eyes widened in surprise.

The stars, they did align themselves to create an outline of something, or someone. Soon, a figure was formed by the stars.

“No shot…” Stelle muttered, recognizing the figure outlined by the stars.

Nanook.

THEY were there. THEIR eyes narrowing down, seemingly towards you.

“Well, I'll be damned,” you uttered to yourself as golden sand seemed to float along the insides of the train, followed by a panicked Pom-pom who had also noticed the aeon's gaze on the express.

As Pom-pom found themselves behind Welt, they seemed to have their guard up the moment the golden sand started to appear more and float throughout the express.

Seeing everyone's guarded expression, you turned back towards the aeon who seemed to have moved THEIR hand and pointed towards you.

Confused, you were about to speak until the sand within the express started to clump together, forming into something and dropping it above your head and down onto your hand.

“Ow…” you muttered before noticing what had just appeared on you.

A necklace, simple yet gave off the strongest of power, glowing ever so brightly by the gem adorning the middle, a bright yellow color, akin to the eyes of the Aeon of Destruction or the large scar adorning THEIR chest.

“What…” you asked confusingly as you turned back towards the outline of the aeon, whose eyes seemed to narrow further before disappearing, the stars dragging themselves back to their original places.

Still confused -and now dumbfounded by what Nanook, the entire aeon, gave you- Dan Heng entered the lounge with a surprise look on his face.

“I saw the sand before it all disappeared, what happened? Did anyone get hurt?” Dan Heng asked, inspecting everyone with his eyes.

Himeko shook her head, smiling, “Everyone is alright, we just…” Himeko trailed off, turning towards you who's attention was still on the necklace given to you by the aeon.

“We just witnessed that our dear nameless over here received a courting gift from the Aeon of Destruction.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

Once again, you were alone.

Kim Dokja, Yoo Sangah, and Han Sooyoung were in an animated discussion over something as they "watched" over the children, a bug boy and beast girl that threatened to tear each other apart without the adults' notice. Despite the rivalry, their bickering always held an undercurrent of care.

Lee Hyunsung was bumbling his way through a not-date with Jung Heewon. She was most certainly aware, but gained more amusement from pretending otherwise.

Gong Pildu had left to attend to some personal matters. Your sponsor hadn't sent you so much as a word all day.

Even the stoic and reserved bastard, Yoo Joonghyuk, had allowed himself to be dragged away by his very enthusiastic student. Lee Seolhwa observed them with a relaxed smile.

Which left you.

The loneliness was a familiar cold that settled deep in your bones, a chill that never went away. It was a toss up if you felt more isolated or abandoned this time.

You glanced at the tightly-knit groups of conversation. Left out, it was definitely left out.

For some reason, your eyes smarted, a wetness gathering on your lower lashes. You thought maybe it would be better to be abandoned, to be left behind, because this, this exclusion of your presence, felt like a slap in the face.

Well. If they would ignore you, then you would be the first to leave. Before they could leave you for good.

The streets were quiet. You shouldered your pack with no idea where you were headed.

"Why did I think this was a good idea," you mumbled. Life in the apocalypse was hard enough with companions—it was downright treacherous alone.

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is tired of this expression on your face.]

Ah...there he was. At last.

Your face darkened. "Go away, then, if it bothers you."

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is confused.]

Any other day, you might have tried a clever response or jab in return, but today was not your day. The plotter was unaware of your depressing thoughts, and you would not be the one to enlighten him.

You lumbered on in silence.

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' apologizes for his words.]

You stopped in your tracks. Sure he was your sponsor, but did a constellation just apologize to you? An extremely powerful and mysterious constellation, at that.

"Uh, it's fine," you said, flustered. "I'm just...not feeling it today."

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is wondering what might lift your spirits.]

A new set of friends that care, you thought wearily. Out loud, you said, "Something grand. Like a plate of omakase, or a luxury handbag. Or maybe a sports car."

You gave a small smile at something so ludicrous, because this was the middle of an apocalypse, for goodness sake—

POOF!

"...What the hell?!"

Your arm was heavy with a stiff handbag, and a metal rattled inside as you shook it. You smoothed a hand over the ivory crocodile skin, acutely aware of the status of this iconic tote.

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' hopes you enjoy sampling the premium sushi in your new ride.]

You blinked at the message, when a cherry red color caught your eye—parked in the street behind you was a two-seat Ferrarigini. Your mouth dropped open.

"This is too much," you said faintly. Did he want something in return?

Your traitorous feet carried you to the car, and you noted the huge, neatly wrapped box resting in the passenger seat. A pair of chopsticks were laid on top.

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is glad that you like the gifts.]

"I don' wan' 'em," you said, cheeks already stuffed with nigiri. "Take 'em back."

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is amused.]

You popped some of the uni in your mouth and nearly moaned in delight. Where did he even get this? Did the Japanese constellations have a master chef among the stars? You cleared out another row, the soft texture melting in your mouth. "Just feed me from now on, and I'll be plenty satisfied."

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' says that can be arranged.]

"What—" you blanched. "No, I didn't really mean it. I know you're my sponsor, but should you be doing all of this?"

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is ignoring your protests.]

A wider smile settled loose on your face. "Well, at least take back the handbag. It's gorgeous...but a bit impractical for fighting."

You sighed internally at parting with such a bag; if this world hadn't fallen into ruin, then people would have to pry that beauty from your cold, dead hands.

There was a flash. The bag disappeared as something heavier weighed on your shoulder. You now possessed a sturdy hiking pack, much sturdier than the one you previously purchased from the Dokkaebi Bag back in the third scenario.

You considered asking the plotter to exchange the car for black, but decided it didn't matter. A noisy sports car would attract more attention than the red would, anyway. And the red was cute.

"Thank you. I do feel better now."

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' likes to see you happy.]

Something hot and pleasant dropped in your stomach.

The relationship between you and your sponsor wasn't exactly normal, as the others so often pointed out. Most of them mentioned it teasingly, but Kim Dokja always spoke about it in a tight voice, and his unease was more than enough to make you cautious.

But that caution crumbled bit by bit as the plotter cemented himself as the only willing and steady presence in your life.

You sat in the driver's seat of the Ferrarigini, propping your legs above the wheel. Another flash dropped a second wrapped box in your lap, this one bound in red silk with ribbons of gold.

"I'm going to turn into a spoiled brat," you said in giddy disbelief.

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is glad to spoil his brilliant incarnation.]

"The 'brat' part remains to be seen, then." A laugh bubbled from your chest, warm from the praise.

You carefully unwrapped the box to reveal rows of chocolates. Perfectly marbled, smooth chocolates. You hurriedly tasted a milky brown one, and this time, a sound really did leave your throat as the decadent sweet met your tongue.

In the center of the box was a heart-shaped chocolate, a deep red like your new car. It was unique from the others. Just as you reached for it, the air crackled with status.

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is warning you not to eat that one now!]

"Why not?"

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' says that it is meant to be shared with someone more deserving of you.]

Your brow wrinkled in confusion. "'More deserving of me'? What do you—"

"Why are you lazing around in a luxury car?"

The harsh voice made you flinch. Yoo Joonghyuk strolled up to the driver's side, grabbing the car door as he looked down at you.

"There's nothing else to do," you hedged. It wasn't untrue. The next scenario wasn't for another week, and already, everyone had done enough to prepare.

Yoo Joonghyuk's scowl deepened as he noticed the chocolates. He froze at the sight of your two backpacks. "Explain," he said.

"...I was going to gather items."

['Yoo Joonghyuk' has determined that your words are false.]

Damn him and his 'Lie Detection'. You glimpsed the alarm on Yoo Joonghyuk's face before a message pinged in front of you.

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' wants his incarnation to find people worth her time.]

Yoo Joonghyk's expression went dark. The car door creaked under his fingertips. "What."

"Ah—"

"You found her."

Kim Dokja emerged and you gaped at him, dumbfounded. Were they searching for you?

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked, trailing off upon seeing the chocolates.

You got out of the car, pushing aside Yoo Joonghyuk, and grabbed the nearest backpack. It rattled. Your hand revealed a set of car keys.

The three of you looked at each other in uncomfortable silence.

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is annoyed by the crowded screen.]

"I wasn't far," you said, ignoring your sponsor's words.

Kim Dokja squinted at you, and, not for the first time, you felt uncomfortably exposed under his gaze. Sometimes it felt like he knew your thoughts—knew you—almost better than you knew yourself. Not in the sense that you were predictable, but more as if he had studied you. Intimately. You couldn't help but fix your attention on the distant buildings instead.

"Let's head back," he murmured. Warm hands settled around your arms to guide you.

You escaped his hold. "I'm fine right here."

Kim Dokja jerked like you'd burned him. His mouth opened, at a loss for words. It was rare to see him so speechless.

"Where did you get this stuff?" asked Kim Dokja.

"Her sponsor, no doubt," said Yoo Joonghyuk snidely.

Something intensified in Kim Dokja's face. "Is that true? Did the Secretive Plotter give you these things?"

"I—"

"We should burn them."

Your irritation focused on the interrupting regressor. How awfully rude, to speak as if you weren't even there.

"Yoo Joonghyuk," said Kim Dokja. "We don't want to make unnecessary enemies."

"So?"

"I agree, it's shady. But we can't be hasty..."

"I have flames." He did? "Let me take care of this now."

"You sunfish bastard, you really—"

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is smirking at this nonsensical argument.]

Both men went rigid at the message. They wore equal expressions of scorn and turned to you, as if you were to blame.

"Did you really need to send that to everyone here?" you hissed at the plotter.

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is watching you idly.]

You rubbed your forehead. "Look, I think I need to sort some things out before rejoining you all. And I'm keeping my stuff; if you try to destroy it, then I'm punching you both in the face."

The plotter's eagerness at your words was something you could practically feel, even lightyears away.

"...Sure. That's fine," Kim Dokja said, his nostrils flaring as he turned his head to the side. "Can—can we expect to see you again soon?"

You squeezed the strap of your backpack. "I don't know. Maybe by the next scenario."

The tension coiled throughout Kim Dokja's body was obvious. But he nodded anyway.

"Keep yourself safe. Having a sponsor can't guarantee your well-being." Kim Dokja's neutral face cracked to reveal a slight frustration. "Especially if you have an...atypical one."

Before you could turn away, his hand caught your wrist. It felt urgent. Warm. He spoke your name slowly, as if savoring the syllables on his tongue.

"I'll be waiting for your return."

The warmth of his hand must be highly contagious, because it spread rapidly up the back of your neck to your cheeks.

"Y—yes," you managed. "Until then."

He let you go. You felt the heat of his fingers long after.

Yoo Joonghyuk, who had remained wordless and watchful throughout the exchange, declared that he would remain with you on your journey.

You rolled your eyes. "No thanks."

His mouth twitched down.

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' says not to worry.]

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is more than enough to protect what is his.]

Kim Dokja let out an angry noise. Yoo Joonghyuk's face shuttered.

Damn it, why did he choose to say the worst things? It's as if he was purposefully trying to rile them up. Still, you couldn't help but feel cheered by the strong, open companionship of your sponsor.

"I'll be going now," you said quickly.

You had the great plotter on your side, despite what Kim Dokja thought about him; Yoo Joonghyuk was lurking in your peripheral, his presence like a guard dog of shadows as he waited for you to depart; and Kim Dokja, standing beside him, was expecting your return.

Already, your unhappy heart was lifting in spirits. If these three took notice of your absence so quickly, and responded with such concern, then maybe the rest of the group would miss you as well...? Taking some time to yourself would hopefully give you clarity about your burdensome thoughts.

With a contented hum, you turned the key and the car purred to life. The weight on your shoulders lightened with each kilometer you drove further away.

a/n: heyy sugar daddy plotter....i'd like a birkin and sports car as well? or even just the sushi? definitely the sushi 😭

Yet here you were, bound by invisible chains, trapped in a space so foreign yet familiar, sitting before a man you never imagined facing like this. He watched you with quiet intensity, the air around him heavy with intent.

“Why?”

The word escaped your lips before you could stop it.

You weren’t supposed to ask him questions, not this man. But again, you weren’t supposed to be here and curiosity, laced with a tinge of betrayal, pushed the question out anyway.

This was the one thing you could not foresee.

Damn these constellations.

The Secretive Plotter, or as you know it, Yoo Joonghyuk, tilted his head, a ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He was familiar, yet entirely different from the regressor you knew. 

His presence was colder, sharper. 

This Yoo Joonghyuk was from another round, with knowledge and experiences, and hella OP compared to the current sunfish you know. 

“You ask why, but I think you already know,” he said softly, his voice a low murmur that sent a chill down your spine.

Your mind raced, searching for a logical explanation. It was true that you had foreseen many things: the rise and fall of constellations, the struggles of your companions, and Kim Dokja’s suicidal tendencies. 

But this? This was different. Secretive Plotter wasn’t part of the plan, not like this.

“Enlighten me,” you replied, forcing your voice to remain calm, steady. 

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze piercing, as if he was peeling away the layers of your defenses, exposing every thought, every fear. Then he spoke again, his voice a little colder this time. 

“They don’t deserve you.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Them. 

He didn’t need to say the names. Kim Dokja, Yoo Joonghyuk, the ones you had followed through countless regressions, the ones who trusted you, depended on you. And, in a way, you depended on them too. 

But this? Is this guy lonely or something? Right, the sunfish tendencies never changed.

Then, the realization hit you like a blow to the chest.

“This is because of them?” you asked, incredulity creeping into your tone. 

“Don’t tell me you kidnapped me just because you’re… jealous?”

The smile on his face vanished, replaced with something far darker, far more dangerous. He stepped closer, closing the already too-small gap between you.

You refused to shrink back, refused to show any sign of fear. You had faced worse. You had to remind yourself of that.

“They don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice sharp, laced with bitterness. “You… you’re different. You think and you save everyone. You see the bigger picture.”

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest.

“And what? You think you deserve me?” You regretted the words the moment they left your mouth, but there was no taking them back.

Secretive Plotter’s gaze darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might actually lash out. Instead, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“I see what they don’t. I see you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and for a brief moment, you were at a loss. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating, and yet… there was something unsettlingly intimate in the way he spoke to you, as if you were the only person in the universe who mattered to him.

“You think Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk don’t care?” you asked, trying to regain your footing, “They rely on me because we’re a team. We survive because we trust each other.”

“Trust,” he repeated, the word dripping with disdain. “You trust them too much, and that’s why you’ll never see the truth.”

You clenched your fists, frustration bubbling to the surface. “And what truth is that?”

He straightened, his expression unreadable. 

“That you don’t need them. That they hold you back.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat.

Could it be true? You had always been the one to guide them, to think ahead, to strategize. But you needed them, didn’t you? Without them, would you have made it this far? The doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking your head. “You’re wrong. We’re stronger together. That’s how we’ve always survived.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but his gaze remained locked on yours, unblinking, as if searching for something within you. Then, slowly, he extended his hand toward you, palm up, as if offering something invisible, something dangerous.

“You don’t have to go back to them,” he said quietly. “Stay with me. I’ll give you everything you need.”

You stared at his hand, your mind racing. The air around you felt thick, oppressive, as if the very fabric of reality was pressing down on you, waiting for you to make a choice.

Stay with him? Abandon Kim Dokja and Yoo Joonghyuk? The very thought seemed impossible, absurd.

And yet… there was a part of you, a small, traitorous part, that hesitated. What would it mean to follow him?

But no. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

You leaned back, refusing to take his hand. 

“I’m not abandoning them. I won’t.”

His expression remained calm, but there was something simmering just beneath the surface, something dark and dangerous.

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Maybe,” you said, lifting your chin defiantly. “But it’s my choice to make.”

Silence stretched between you, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he lowered his hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’ll come to see the truth eventually,” he said, his voice soft but filled with certainty. “And when you do, I’ll be waiting.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. All you could do was turn away, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. But one thing was clear: this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The Secretive Plotter would be waiting for you. Always.

Damn, let’s get out of these chains first.

After so many regressions, seeing you alive felt both like a blessing and a curse. 

Secretive Plotter…or Yoo Joongyhuk had known you in countless timelines, each one ending the same way. No matter what he did, you died, often too soon, always painfully. 

The seer who guided him, the strategist who did their best to save everyone, you were his best and brightest ally.

In each regression, Yoo Joonghyuk became fond of you. You weren’t just a teammate to him, you were an anchor.

Someone who could foresee danger, who could match his intellect, and yet, no matter how many times he watched the world reset, you couldn’t escape your fate. 

You were always bound to die. 

Sometimes protecting him. Sometimes as a casualty of the scenario itself.

Each death had burned itself into his memory like a scar that never healed. There was nothing he could do to stop it. 

Even in the 3rd round with Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja, you were doomed.

No one could save you.

Except now, he could.

Now that he had ascended, now that he was Secretive Plotter, far removed from the cycle of life and death, he had power.

Power to bend the rules, to keep you safe in a place where nothing could harm you.

He couldn’t lose you again. 

Not to Yoo Joonghyuk, not to Kim Dokja, and certainly not to the cruel hand of fate. I

In his realm, you were beyond the reach of those pathetic mortals, beyond the reach of death itself.

But when he saw you struggling against your chains, and even arguing with his kkomas...a soft smile rose to his lips.

“Look, he’s just like you.” These syllables are murmured into your palm: a sentence he should feel insulted by, yet he’s more preoccupied with how you’re lying on the bed—leaning on your elbow with a smug number 41 on your right side, and a more reticent 999 curled up on your left. It becomes disproportionately difficult to comprehend whatever’s going on when the man in the doorway is greeted with such a rarely peaceful, picturesque scene in front of him: so utterly removed from the mess that is indubitably occurring in each wing of the house. It’s… domestic, really, in a way he doesn’t quite feel he deserves. 

“Of course he’s like me,” he finally retorts. “Why would he not be?”

He rarely feels childish—or at least, he should rarely feel childish. He’s lived through hundreds of millenia, seen the falls of countless constellations, died thousands of times, yet still, his steps petulantly take him to your side to see just exactly what you’re finding so fascinating. 

Predictably, Yoo Joonghyuk is on the screen that 41 is propping up for your leisure. As if winning over the squabbling, stubborn kkomas that roam this place wasn’t enough, you’re now observing yet another variant. A face identical to the one on your phone scoffs. 

[Secretive Plotter is becoming increasingly irate.]

[Secretive Plotter donates 1,000 coins.]

These contradictory ‘tales’ are, naturally, owed to the man behind you beginning to seethe, while number 41 paws at the screen whimsically to adjust it to your sight better. A few stray donations here and there when the not-so-dexterous kkoma hand slips, and thus the contradiction forms. 

It does not help the simmering annoyance he feels when you’re so busy, as you had put it earlier. 

[Lord of the Mysteries donates 3,000 coins.]

[Lord of the Mysteries waves his hands towards the portrait, motioning with growing frustration.]

The man behind you wouldn’t have been so generous to give any hints in this fiendishly difficult escape room, but you always did have a soft spot when it came to the hims of this world and all his companions. 

[Lord of the Mysteries donates another 4,000 coins, telling the Incarnations to turn the frame rather than gawk at the paint strokes.]

But this. This is too far: ignoring his rhetorical, sarcastic comment while you continue to spoil the Kim Dokja Company rotten in this sub scenario. Outer gods forbid you save your tendencies for main scenarios. 

There isn’t even a time limit for this room! 

The bed dips under the weight of another constellation as he joins you, and to his strange, vindictive satisfaction, the wayward kkomas scatter; in their stead, three eyes glare at him (though, it’s difficult to take palm-sized beings seriously, as a rule of thumb). 

“Scram,” he utters triumphantly (though, it’s equally as difficult to take him seriously—a constellation who has gone through hundreds of millenia, who looks like he’s melting in your presence). It is quite obvious that they don’t listen to him—999 is helped over your body to your right side by the traitorous 41, and you let them, much like you let him sink into your left side, breathing in the scent that carries tales of both your life and his. 

The ink you write with. The food that he cooks for you, and only you. The faint traces of books, mingling with the vestiges of clean soap. 

A heavy arm wraps around your waist, while an impatient face buries itself into your neck. Yet, despite his obvious preoccupation, he still makes the time to shoot the kkomas a look that they have unfortunately become quite familiar with when it comes to you and your time. They cannot do the same things he does: namely, hold you like this. 

I win. 

It is as he has said. Seldom does he act childishly, but he can’t refrain from having capricious whims when he is faced with your presence. 

Pay attention to me, my love. This is the look the kkomas now read on their Plotter’s face—no, not merely his face, his body. It’s pathetically pathetic, yet they can’t help but understand. 

“See there,” you comment laconically, and despite his growing aversion to the distraction in your hands, he is compelled to observe, just like you have asked him to do. “He is far more cautious than the third. Without knowing it, he is a shadow away from you.”

He is faced with a mirror of himself, glaring up at wherever the omnipresent cameras are—though he merely looks perplexed when he is faced with the screen displaying your name. 

It makes sense. 

You are a perplexing entity, and one that this particular Yoo Joonghyuk would not have encountered before. 

He sheaths his sword, and just like that, the Plotter who breathes you in recognises the telltale glimmer of trust in his eyes that the Yoo Joonghyuks of the worlds have towards your existence. 

He’s not for you, he chastises silently, though the him in the screen will never hear him.  

The Plotter presses a chaste kiss to your shoulder, and finally, finally, you turn your gaze to meet his own, fervent one. 

“Where is the time you’ve reserved for me?” He knows he’s being far too jealous. He can hear it in the sluggish pulse that only ever seems to quicken whenever you’re around—he can feel it in the heavy tension in his sternum. 

I win. 

He’s taken the victory once again when he feels you shift to switch the offending device off; a rare smile paints his face, just as a frown breaks out on the face of the Yoo Joonghyuk still within the scenario. 

[Lord of the Mysteries has temporarily disconnected from the channel.]

* ★ ₊ ⋆ 

“For a Lord of the Mysteries, he sure doesn’t act like he likes them.” 

Jihye’s confused voice is the first to reach his ears as his sword slices through the particular barrel the constellation warned them about mere moments ago. Before he left, that is. 

The man known as Yoo Joonghyuk, going strong in his third round, is perhaps even more confused than his disciple—and that never happens. Never. He could blame it on the walking bucket of bad luck that is Kim Dokja, but this is still too unusual to pin it solely on that man. 

In purely pragmatic terms, it could be said that Yoo Joonghyuk’s memory is impeccable. It has to be, if he ever had hope of escaping the cursed cycle he has been trapped in. 

When event after event that he knows from two previous rounds go awry, it is uncannily easily to point Dokja as the culprit—yet, these familiar eyes that watch him were present from the very moment he awoke in that compartment on the train, eyes that were strangely empathetic for a constellation. 

It is easy to feel pity for lesser beings: a cloying, disturbing emotion to witness when lives are purchased with arbitrary coins. 

It is not easy for a constellation to seem so human. 

Amongst the entities that crowd the channels of the third round, he recognises many names. All were ones he had witnessed in the past two rounds—bickering amongst themselves like he had predicted, bidding on the struggles and turmoils of humans with an apathy akin to monsters. 

All… but one. 

The foreign stars that cluster the night sky like vultures preying on the demise of humans are hard to equate to the protostar that had been born in this particular round. 

[The Lord of the Mysteries hints at the Incarnations that they have already passed the right path.]

[The Lord of the Mysteries agrees to the bet proposed by the Incarnations.]

[The Lord of the Mysteries votes in favour of the formation of the Kim Dokja Company.]

Favour doesn’t seem to be currency when it comes to this particular star; rather, favour is endowed freely amongst those he likes, without asking for anything in return. It’s disturbing: complex in a way he doesn’t quite know how to deal with, much like he doesn’t quite know how to deal with Kim Dokja, and all the anomalies that seemed incessantly tied to that man. 

[The Lord of the Mysteries assumes what appears to be the night watch.]

It’s bizarre. He can’t quite trust the constellation. He can’t even begin to comprehend what goes on inside his head. Though, what’s perhaps the most perplexing of all was the fact that he can’t sense any trace of malevolence in the constellation’s actions. 

He’s shady, his intuition screams at him. He makes no sense, his Sage’s eye confirms. He’s fattening us up for the final slaughter, his gut proclaims. 

Yet, unfathomably, both eyes flutter shut. It wouldn’t hurt, his heart murmurs against the turmoil.

The sword slips from his tight grasp and clatters against the floor, but the man doesn’t stir from his upright slumber against the wall. A lone draught carries its songs through the abandoned building, but his breathing remains calm and undisturbed. 

For once, the tempestuous landscape of his mind has stilled: nightmares grinding to a gradual halt, clammy skin drying in the gentle evening breeze. For once, the stories that make up his dreams are doused in balmy tranquility: the smell of sunlight in a field, the warmth of a song playing in the distance, the taste of literature while turning a page. 

Under the watchful eyes of a singularity in the heavens, the 1864th Yoo Joonghyuk sleeps peacefully for a night.