Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

(1 / 5)

Kim Dokja, an adult wage earner, who had signed a contract with a working day at the extreme of what the law allows and judges, sighed exhaustedly. Dokja lay on a park bench near Mino Soft, his shoulders slumped and his coat hanging down.

It was a particularly hot day and the drink he had taken from the vending machine did little to quench his thirst, if you added to that the fact that Han Myungoh had been especially annoying all morning, he could opine that it was a shitty day.

Dokja has had a lot of days like that for over ten years now, but those are details.

“...”.

From Dokja to the world there is not a single word.

That is something he is grateful for, Dokja appreciates the peace and silence in a way that actually makes him wonder if he truly enjoys it.

During the evenings, when his only distraction is the updates of Three Ways to Survival in a World in Ruins, or failing that, rereading the chapters, it's something he easily ignores. There's a crowd out there; other office workers looking for a secluded spot so they don't feel pressured by work exploitation, an occasional family enjoying some bonding time, or some kids just playing around.

Thinking about it, he could reread the last chapter. tls123 had updated, but with Myungoh's hawkish gaze, he hadn't been able to procrastinate during work hours. Fortunately, he had found this bench during lunchtime, so hardly anyone should sit next to him without feeling awkward or disrespectful. This was a perfect opportunity to catch up.

It's good to emphasize the ‘hardly anyone’.

“Good afternoon, Kim Dokja-ssi.”

Kim Dokja raises his head and although his heart is far from thrilled, definitely the image that appeared before his eyes could be considered the ‘descent of an angel’.

Everyone has a lifestyle, and Dokja knows that his lifestyle is ‘lonely’ and ‘realistic’. Dokja is an adult with an average appearance, although his body is irregularly thin, he is not considered to be in the bones. Dokja is a simple man with a completely boring life and who, for the sake of redundancy, is average. The person in front of him could be considered his antithesis.

"Ah. Hello".

Yoo Sangah from human resources, she is a lovely woman who was around his age with perfectly coiffed light brown hair and impeccable attire. Sangah's natural beauty was something that made most of the men at Mino Soft, and some women, look at her with undisguised eyes.

A greeting from Sangah was something many would kill for; however, Dokja was hardly fazed. She is definitely beautiful and has a scent that makes he wonder how much her shampoo costs, but nothing were from the norm. Sangah is beautiful and for Dokja it all ends there. They have talked occasionally, but nothing that makes him classify those memories as ‘good’ or ‘bad’.

They are just memories.

“I'm surprised to see Kim Dokja-ssi around.” She says as she sits down next to him. “Though considering it's such a beautiful day, I guess it's worth enjoying.”

"Uhm. Sure."

Dokja is not sociable, he is completely and utterly the opposite of the term. Dokja is an outcast who talks to an almost non-existent number of individuals.

To give you an idea, Sangah has addressed him a total number of times he could easily count and he was at the top of his ‘personal relationships’. Not that he sounded pathetic, he is pathetic.

She looks down at her drink unfazed by his automatic response, she frowns.

“You shouldn't drink that.”

He blinks.

“Excuse me?”

"I've seen Dokja-ssi occasionally drink energy drinks, not regularty, but they're definitely excessively sugary and far from what they should be. I'm sure, the only reason they help keep you awake is because of the gastritis they generate."

Well, that's weird. Dokja is not used to someone caring about him.

It doesn't particularly generate a feeling in him, it's just kind of weird.

"Eh. I just had lunch, so I don't think it'll effect me at all. I take it because of the heat."

“May I ask what you ate, Dokja-ssi?”.

Oh, shit.

“Well, I....”. He stutters slightly not knowing what to say.

“A loaf of bread?”

Sangah's tone is strangely accusatory. Isn't this woman supposed to be endlessly sweet? Why was she looking at him like that? Hell, why did he feel nervous? No, it's not nervousness, it's discomfort.

“No..”

Dokja's voice is weak.

“An instant soup?”.

“Neither.”

“Hm. A sweet?”

Dokja pursed her mouth.

“I knew it.”

“I didn't eat any of it.” He quickly defended himself. “I just remembered something.”

“Then what was your lunch?”.

He hesitates for a moment, before letting out a silent puff of air as he wipes the sweat from his forehead. He felt too sweaty.

“A sandwich...”. Sangah looks at him with a surprised expression. She feels a slight touch of relief. “...Of bread with butter and jam.” Her expression falls again.

Good, he made it worse. Sangah looks at him with eyes that feel oppressive.

“Somehow that doesn't surprise me.”

“...I'm sorry?”

He's not sure why he's apologizing, but that seems to appease Sangah.

"Fine! Never mind." She claps her hands before returning to her initial demeanor. Dokja notices, she's carrying a slightly larger bag than she usually does. This one is round. “I'm glad I brought a little more.”

“Huh?”

He is confused and thrilled at tls123's plot twists, when tls123 made the protagonist work until his bones creak and his muscles snap, with a description so vivid it made Dokja's skin tingle.

But, Sangah hit the jackpot when it came to making him feel confused.

“I hope it's to your liking, it's not much, but I think you'd better eat something nutritious.”

She shows him a dosirak. Sangah quietly opens it giving him a show; the box contains rice, sautéed vegetables and pork.

It wasn't something out of the norm, but for someone like Dokja who saved more than three times a week through his meals to pay his bills, it was practically a luxury.

However, even though it stretched him out in front of him, he didn't move a muscle to take it.

He understood that Sangah's life was laced with ‘heroism’ and painted in much brighter colors than his own, but he had never thought of her as being so, uh, how shall he put it? Ehm, so shameless? She was definitely friendly, considering she was one of the few who spoke to him, but not something like that.

“...For me?”

"Of course. I already had lunch, so you don't have to worry about finishing everything."

The question comes out with a dryness completely different from Sangah's fluid response. Dokja looks at the food silently. If it were possible, his head would be smoking at the endless questions he asks himself.

Sangah notices his dilemma.

"Come on, Dokja-ssi. There's nothing wrong with this. It's important to take care of ourselves, since we're co-workers, isn't it?".

“I-I think I'll decline the offer, Yoo Sangah-ssi.” He thought his words carefully. "I'm sure you could save it, maybe for dinner. You don't need to give me something like that."

“But I want to give it to Dokja-ssi.”

“I don't think my stomach has that much room.”

“Then you can take it to eat it later.”

Was she using his own words against him? If it weren't for Sangah's passive and kind expression he would think she had a very good tongue.

“...Why do you want to give it to me?”.

"Because Dokja-ssi worries me. You can't spend a whole day alone with a snack in the afternoon."

“There's still breakfast and dinner.” She narrowed his eyes. It was practically a challenge from Sangah to Dokja. “Okay, I understand.”

“So, will you take it?”.

There was no answer. The two stood in a considerably long silence.

Kim Dokja looked at Yoo Sangah.

“Why?”

And suddenly Sangah's expression dropped. She sighed.

This time, the question didn't invite an evasive answer. Dokja asked from deep inside and Sangah, regardless of how she thought and her actions, was to respond appropriately.

Dokja didn't ask, he practically demanded

"Dokja-ssi is quite perceptive."

"I just thought it was odd," he said."Sangah-ssi is kind, and I wouldn't have hesitated if she told me she just wanted to do it, but this is also acceptable."

"Would you believe me if I said it right now?"

"I think that opportunity has passed."

She laughed softly, placing the food between them.

"Yes."

Dokja waited. Sangah looked suddenly nervous and uncomfortable, her lips trembling slightly and her fingers tapping on the bench. She searched for words Dokja couldn't possibly predict.

Dokja checked the time on his cell phone; his lunch break wasn't over yet, but he didn't want to be scolded for his commitment to the company. Not that Dokja liked Mino Soft, but he didn't want to die socially.

…Although that would definitely have been easier to deal with than Sangah's next words.

“Dokja-ssi.”

“Yes?”

“I'd like to make a request of you.”

Request? The way she said it was particularly self-conscious and very polite. The tone of Sangah's voice was gentle, almost as if she were afraid of something.

“…What is it about?”

Another long pause. Sangah's cheeks tinged a light red.

Dokja might have thought she was about to face an autumnal declaration of love from two hopelessly in love teenagers, if not for several points.

It's not autumn. It's late spring and early summer. They are not two teenagers. Kim Dokja and Yoo Sangah are two adults with responsibilities.

They are not hopelessly in love. Dokja had barely had a decent conversation with Sangah, who, aside from the occasional morning greeting and a question about his morning before work, never said anything to him.

"I…" She swallowed heavily, and Dokja could see her fighting her nerves.

However, that couldn't last forever, and after Sangah took a long breath in and out, she spoke.

She looked him straight in the eyes.

"Marry me, Dokja-ssi."

Dokja prides himself on how basic his appearance is and, consequently, how easy it is to style it on occasion.

However, at that moment, he didn't know what to do.

"What"

Sangah, though beautiful and desired by most of the men in Mino Soft, is simply a woman who exists in the same world as Dokja.

But not on the same plane.

Dokja is certain that if Sangah had asked Han Myungoh that, the response would have been laced with a victorious roar. That man could have died right then and there, gone without a single regret or a single sympathy.

But Dokja isn't Myungoh.

"It's a strange and out-of-place request considering our closeness, but I could only ask this of Dokja-ssi" she said, then muttered. "I thought he'd be the right person."

Sangah looked bad. It wasn't that her hair was disheveled. It wasn't that her uniform was stained. It wasn't that she looked tired.

He just knew, Sangah was in bad shape.

There was no reason for someone to ask something like that so suddenly. Dokja rubbed his forehead, his cheeks burning. This situation was very embarrassing.

"Why... would you ask me something like that?"

She didn't reply.

"Can't you really tell me, Sangah-ssi?"

She pursed her lips before speaking.

"It's about my family."

That was her only response. Dokja thought she would say something else, but her silence was enough to make him understand that nothing else would come out of her mouth.

However, that didn't stop his imagination from running wild.

Family and social status were widely discussed. Although Yoo Sangah was hailed at Mino Soft as a lady among ladies, Dokja knew nothing about her outside the offices. However, considering I'd heard she'd always been single during her time there, some pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

Perhaps her family pressured her to have a husband? It's true that marriage wasn't as widely recognized as a sign of well-being these days, but it still remained a "hierarchy."

However, to force Sangah to do something like this… something didn't add up. Real life isn't like in novels, where a father or a mother or any member of a family could overrule another member, especially an adult. Yoo Sangah isn't a child. Yoo Sangah is a woman who receives a salary far above his own, and while there were rumors about them, they were just that—rumors.

Dokja didn't think about that kind of thing until he confirmed it himself, if he was even interested in it in the first place. After all…

"It doesn't have to be anything big." Sangah had relaxed a little and spoke calmly, interrupting his thoughts.

"It doesn't have to be a traditional wedding."

"Sangah-ssi."

"Not very Westernized either."

"Sangah-ssi."

"Of course, unless Dokja-ssi wants it that way."

"Sangah-ssi." She finally noticed Dokja looking at her impassively. Sangah spoke as if Dokja had already agreed, and while it was true that he hadn't refused, he was seriously considering it. "Why me?".

The question was longer than a simple "no" that would end the conversation, but curiosity won out, and Dokja asked.

"Regardless of the reason Sangah-ssi is asking me this, I don't understand why I would. I'm sure Sangah-ssi has better options."

Dokja recalled the rumors about Manager Kan or Han Myungoh directly, which were directly related to Yoo Sangah. Apparently, both were one of the many men who drove to Yoo Sangah's house. She looked displeased at the last part of his words.

"I don't think I'll find a better option than Dokja-ssi. He's the only one I think can help me with this."

"Why?"

“…He is the only one who would be considerate and sensitive enough to me after asking him this.”

It was a vague answer. Consideration? Dokja wasn't considerate, perhaps sensitive, and that depended on what regression he was rereading from his beloved novel and his deep desire to smack the protagonist with an idiot complex.

Chapter Text

Survival Guide for a Fake Marriage – Tip 1.

The next day after Kim Dokja accepted Yoo Sangah’s proposal, he woke up more lost than usual. The walls of his rented apartment felt distant.

/ (Yoo Sangah):

/ How did you sleep, Dokja-ssi? I hope you slept well. Remember, getting proper sleep is essential. I hope you didn’t stay up late last night.

/ Believe it or not, it’s pretty easy to tell the difference between your tired eyes. A Dokja-ssi with sleepiness looks different from a Dokja-ssi with laziness.

Dokja wasn’t sure how he ended up in this situation. No, scratch that. He knew exactly how he got here.

Dokja looked at his phone while sitting at his “dining table,” having a glass of orange juice from a carton and a piece of plain bread. He fiddled with the glass as he stared blankly at the messages. His eyes, as dark as coal, wandered over the sentences and paragraphs, while a drop of cold sweat slid down his neck.

He wasn’t sure how to respond.

He wasn’t sure what to press on his screen.

To begin with, he wasn’t sure if he should even respond. What do you say to your… fiancée?

“It feels weird to think of her that way,” Kim Dokja massaged the bridge of his nose. “It’s too unreal.”

For a moment, after getting up and getting ready, Dokja thought yesterday’s events had been a dream—one very strange dream. If it weren’t for the notifications in his personal chat, he would’ve stuck with that line of thought for the rest of his life.

There’s no way someone like Yoo Sangah could be Kim Dokja’s “fiancée.”

“Actually, is she my girlfriend?”

He never thought he would ask himself something like that. It was a question, one full of doubt, but still a reality. Dokja wasn’t someone who thought about romantic relationships. The closest experiences he had were during the regressions in TWSA.

He was alone in school.

He was alone in university.

He was alone in his work life.

At least, until today.

Well, until yesterday, technically.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed.”

Remembering the conversation from the day before, Dokja pondered that scenario.

He hadn’t agreed because of the money or out of pity… the real reason he had agreed was something else.

A reason that, when he thought about it…

“It doesn’t matter.” Dokja shook his head before standing up. He then went to wash his glass, dry it, put it away, and prepare to leave. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

That was the best way to handle things.

It doesn’t matter.

***

The day went by normally.

In the morning, Dokja’s only companions were paperwork and digital tables. The numbers were the only constant during the long workday.

There were also conversations with his coworkers, but he mostly ignored them. He put on his headphones, played his playlist titled “Yoo Joonghyuk: Fail and Error,” and let his eyes die for hours in front of the computer.

Dokja wasn’t an ideal worker, but considering he was about to leave the company, he might try to minimize the “buts” for his severance pay. Even though Yoo Sangah worked in human resources, he had heard that employees on probation received many issues when their time at Mino Soft came to an end.

How was her day going?

Outside of the occasional elevator encounters, Dokja never knew what Yoo Sangah did at the company or what kind of activities she was involved in.

His thoughts about Yoo Sangah’s well-being weren’t rooted in concern. Dokja felt a slight anxiety deep in his stomach, slowly rising to his throat, making it difficult to breathe and press the keys on his keyboard.

He took a deep breath, reached for the water bottle beside him, and took a long sip. The liquid slid down his throat like a remedy. The water was cold, which gave him a little shock, but it alleviated the anxiety somewhat.

…Wait a moment, when did he buy that bottle?

“Is anyone missing?”

Followed by a woman’s voice that Dokja didn’t bother to recognize, he returned to reality. Damn, he had gotten too immersed in the music and his work and had distanced himself from his surroundings.

Some members of human resources were delivering snacks to their coworkers. It was just a simple bottle of water and a bungeoppang, but most of them looked slightly surprised and happy. Dokja recognized the majority of them as the lower-paid workers.

His peers.

“Nobody is missing!” a woman spoke. Dokja recognized her as one of the coworkers who used to hang around Sangah. “Then we can start the team-building activity!”

Start? Kim Dokja barely bothered to remember it, and if that wasn’t annoying enough, why should he participate in this activity? Besides, his body was so weak he’d die within the first two steps they forced him to take.

He settled back into his chair, putting his headphones aside, and returned to his work, leaving the water bottle in the corner of his desk next to the food.

…At least the bottle made it there. Dokja stopped when he noticed a note on top of the bungeoppang.

At first, it wasn’t strange. It was just a simple pink note with his name and employee number written in black in the center.

What was peculiar, though, was the different ink he saw on the other side of the sheet.

‘Hello, Dokja-ssi. I hope your day is going well. I wanted to ask if you want to have lunch with me. I was going to send you a message, but since you sometimes forget your charger, and you drain your phone's battery frequently, I thought it would be better to send you this note. If you accept, I’ll wait for you at the corner of the building, fifteen minutes after lunch begins. I would’ve delivered this myself, but I was assigned to another section for today’s activity.

You don’t have to join me if you don’t want to, I just wanted to let you think about it.

With love, Yoo Sangah’.

If it weren’t for the fact that yesterday he felt like he was submerged in magma, Kim Dokja could’ve sworn he was about to turn a new shade of red. He stored the note in his notebook and stared at his computer screen.

His mobile phone was at half charge, but…

How does she know I forgot my charger?

In less important details, Kim Dokja was reprimanded by the human resources team for refusing to participate in their seemingly mandatory activity. That wasn’t in his contract.

***

Lunch hour was from 12:00 PM to 1:00 PM.

During that time, Kim Dokja usually stayed at the office. The days he went out for lunch were rare.

It wasn’t that he was strapped for cash, considering he was the only one who had to pay.

It wasn’t that Dokja owned anything. He didn’t have a car or any property.

It was simply that he wasn’t accustomed to eating.

Of course, he needed food to avoid starvation, but he didn’t indulge in a tray full of rice or soup or anything really nutritious. It wasn’t that he couldn’t, he simply didn’t see the need.

So, after politely declining the lunch invitation from one of his coworkers, he reclined his chair and decided to rest.

He would spend a whole hour doing absolutely nothing but listening to music.

He wouldn’t do anything, and he wouldn’t move from there.

Yes, that was the appropriate decision for the possible NPC who dies in an insignificant background story.

Then why did he feel this way?

‘You don’t have to accompany me if you don’t want to, just think about it.’

It wasn’t an easy feeling to describe. It was definitely not that he felt bad about not being able to join Sangah during this time, but the fact that he didn’t want to.

Dokja had already complied with her request.

Sangah didn’t demand that he be there; she just said that if he wanted to, she would be waiting.

It wasn’t like the image of Sangah waiting was giving him butterflies in his stomach.

In fact, it was the opposite.

“I guess it’s guilt.” He rested his arms on the table after straightening up. “Ugh.”

Yoo Sangah, the woman who, despite her strange request, had always been kind, or at least, fraternal.

She asked him to be her husband, because he was the only person she could ask.

…the only person who, in a long time, had stayed by his side without feeling absolutely uncomfortable by his presence.

He got up from his chair and looked at his wallet.

“I could pay for the food from yesterday.”

With that thought in mind, Dokja left.

***

Somehow, it was Kim Dokja who ended up waiting at the corner of the building.

Fortunately, the heat wasn’t as intense as it was yesterday. Even with his coat, he felt somewhat cool and light. Dokja leaned against the wall, fiddling with his tangled headphones. Sangah had written in the note that she would be here fifteen minutes after twelve, but eighteen minutes had already passed.

The shade of a tree, which he remembered had been planted under the pretext of an environmental care program, provided a comfortable shadow, letting only the warm air of the surroundings whisper in his ear. If he wasn’t mistaken, Yoo Sangah had been a participant in that project.

It wouldn’t be surprising for someone who, if the world were a story, would definitely be a heroine. Or at least, someone memorable.

Looking back, there were many projects she had participated in. How did Yoo Sangah find time for these things? Dokja felt exhausted just coming home after work and his usual subway ride.

“She’s taking too long…” Dokja checked the time on his phone. Twenty minutes had passed.

In a way, he felt relieved. If Sangah didn’t show up in the next five minutes, he could say he had waited for her, but since she didn’t come, he’d head back to his office. Unfortunately, he had already caught up with TWSA, so all he could do was reread his favorite chapters.

Chapters that, no matter how much time passed, he would keep reading page by page, over and over. There were some especially memorable ones where the author detailed the protagonist’s friendships and romance. It was quite amusing and entertaining to see him squirming when that woman treated him like a little kid.

Ah, even that moonfish had his weaknesses. Ironically, three of the most iconic ones were women.

His little sister. His strict teacher. And his... lover.

Even that bastard had quite a considerable romantic history. Dokja was the complete opposite of him.

Though, thinking about it, could it be said that with Yoo Sangah, he had taken his first steps? It wasn’t true, but it was still kind of romantic, right? Even with this little incident, it didn’t mean that their relationship had vanished.

What could have happened to Sangah? She wasn’t the type of person to leave others stranded or to mess up meetings. Considering she was the one who had suggested they go to lunch together, more questions arose.

How would the author describe Sangah-ssi?

It was a strange and sudden question. He didn’t know how it came to his mind; it just settled there. There was no special meaning behind the question, just soft sincerity. In everything he had read from TWSA, he had always appreciated the descriptions by its author.

She would probably be the type of person who would slap the protagonist twice.

Yoo Sangah is beautiful; her delicate features were divided and aligned in an almost eerie harmony, her brown hair always neatly styled and, at first glance, very soft, it stood out even in rainy or cold seasons when everyone had to cover most of their bodies to avoid catching a cold.

She was slender, and her impeccable uniform highlighted her figure. Despite the fact that Sangah was a reserved woman who wore comfortable clothing that left much to the imagination, it was impossible not to notice she had an enviable figure. Maybe she went to the gym? No, even for Yoo Sangah, that would have been too much. Perhaps she had a space in her own home to work out? It wasn’t out of the question.

Though the most plausible possibility was that genetics had blessed her in every way, he didn’t discard that option.

Nature is beautiful and knows how to do things without a doubt.

“What do you think, Dokja-ssi?”

Dokja froze. Every fiber, every bone, every organ, or any content of his body stopped all functions. Damn, he had gotten lost in his thoughts again. It was a bad habit, but it was hard to shake off.

After all, when you spend most of your time in long and dense solitude, the only constant company is yourself.

“Sangah-ssi?”

She smiled at him. “Who else? I don’t remember changing my name. Not yet, at least.”

Although it was a soft and sweet joke, Dokja caught the double meaning. He laughed awkwardly.

“I thought that was an old tradition.”

“It is. It’s just a little joke. I wouldn’t mind, but I’d like to keep my name.” Sangah paused for a moment, then the form of her smile changed in a strange way. “Or would Dokja-ssi like it?”

“… No. Definitely not. It would feel weird.”

“Oh. What a shame.” She didn’t look truly disappointed. “Sorry for the delay, there were some distribution problems, and it took more time than I thought. I was expecting to be the one waiting, not you.”

Dokja shrugged.

“No problem. I didn’t have anything to do anyway.”

“I somehow feel like you didn’t plan on having lunch…” she murmured, a little disappointed.

Dokja still wasn’t used to those comments. He glanced around the surroundings.

“But leaving that aside, I’m glad Dokja-ssi accepted my request. I know a place with very good food, a great atmosphere, and decent prices. You’ll love it.”

Before Dokja could say anything, Sangah wrapped her arm around his. The jet-black adult shuddered internally and made an extraordinary effort to not pull away instantly. Physical contact was strange, something he had almost forgotten.

At least, physical contact that wasn’t used to punch him like a punching bag.

“Where... are we going?”

“Jeong Sik.” Dokja raised an eyebrow. “It’s a strange name, but it’s a good spot! I discovered it two weeks ago, and I liked it. It’s not a place I usually go, but I think you’ll like it, Dokja-ssi.”

“Me?”

Did she want to go there for him? Wow, this woman was an angel in the skin of a human.

“Uhum. I know you don’t usually like loud or crowded places, I’m not sure if they’re your preference, but I didn’t want to bet blindly. I thought it would be a good place to have lunch since it’s a little secluded.” She gave a light tap on his arm. “Also, you can relax. I made sure no one from the company is coming in this direction. Or at least, none of the people we know.”

Although the issue must have concerned all Mino Soft employees, Dokja sighed.

'Is it that easy to read me? I thought I had a good poker face'.

“I was just worried.”

“What were you worried about?”

“That someone would see me with you, Sangah-ssi.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Doesn’t it matter?”

She shook her head. “Not really. Once we get married, I’ll have to update some personal information in the company. The news will spread like wildfire, and everyone will know. I don’t see why I should hide it. I’m just postponing the inevitable.”

“Han Myungoh would go crazy.” Dokja imagined it. “He would act like a rabid dog. I’m glad I won’t be around in the future to be the target of his anger.”

It was a simple joke, but Dokja’s back muscles tensed when Sangah suddenly stopped and opened her eyes. A trace of barely concealed surprise appeared on her face.

'Oh. Did I kill the mood?'

The doubt didn’t last long.

Sangah burst into loud laughter. She didn’t let go of him, but used the arm that was linked with his to wipe a tear from her eye as her body trembled. Dokja relaxed.

“Dokja-ssi has a good sense of humor.”

“I’m sure you’re the only one who finds it funny.”

She laughed again.

***

Jeong Sik is a simple restaurant. The walls are painted a dull green, and the furniture, like the reception, is made of wood and has a handcrafted design. The decorations are scarce; the most notable feature is a collection of newspapers from the last two decades pinned to the walls.

But it was pleasant. Sangah wasn’t wrong about that. They both sat at opposite sides of the table. There were few people; the most notable were a few university students eating in a corner and a group of adults in uniform eating at the other tables.

And that was only because they were the loudest. However, it’s worth noting that just because they were the loudest didn’t mean they were loud.

That says a lot about the atmosphere of the place. What a nice spot!

“What are you going to order, Dokja-ssi?”

“… Ramyeon?”

It was a relief to know it was the right choice to say that as a question, not a statement. Sangah looked up from her menu and gave him a heavy look.

That’s one way to describe the look; he couldn’t find a word between all the TWSA vocabulary and his own to qualify her eyes.

“We came here for lunch, not a snack.”

“But they look good and they’re reasonably priced.”

She sighed. “I’ll order the same for both of us.”

“But-”

“I’ll order the same for both of us,” she reaffirmed.

“… Okay.” Dokja said resignedly, watching as Sangah called the waiter and made the request.

Once he left, they were left in brief silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but Dokja didn’t know what to say.

Of course, Sangah knew how to handle it.

“How was your morning, Dokja-ssi? You didn’t reply to the message I sent earlier. Did you sleep?”

He scratched his neck. “Sorry about that… I was going to reply, but I forgot on the way to the subway. But I woke up well. I didn’t sleep late, so I felt refreshed.”

“What time did you go to sleep?”

Sangah didn’t look sad about the fact that she wasn’t excusing herself for not having responded.

“At eleven.”

“Oh. That’s good. I thought you’d be up until dawn.”

“Why would I do that?”

She waved her hand dismissively at the question. “What about the fraternity activity? Did you enjoy it?”

Dokja made a small, almost imperceptible grimace.

“… I expected that.” She sighed. “I apologize if any of my colleagues were too rough with you.”

“Not at all. Although I would have preferred to just stay in my cubicle, it wasn’t bad. My legs hurt a little, but the snack was fine.”

She intertwined her hands on the table. “I’m glad to hear that.”

What followed was a routine and fortunately smooth conversation. Despite Dokja’s awkwardness, Sangah easily brought up topics of conversation. They talked about insignificant things, but managed to stay entertained until the food arrived.

A regular lunch of rice with fried fish, accompanied by stewed vegetables and doenjangguk.

Sangah gave a brief thanks before getting ready to enjoy her meal. She took three bites of her food and stopped when she noticed Kim Dokja was staring intently at his own meal.

“Is something wrong?”

It seemed he had been daydreaming, as he blinked like an owl.

“No, I’m just not sure how I’ll eat all of this. Haha.”

“Just eat slowly, Dokja-ssi. We have plenty of time to eat without rush.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Though doubtful and nervous, Dokja nodded.

When was the last time he ate properly in the company of someone else? Those were such old memories that they were hard to recreate while his taste buds enjoyed the meal.

“… It tastes really good.”

“Right? I knew you’d like this place.”

Sangah is a strange woman.

Dokja has never believed that people can read each other.

It’s very difficult to do so. In reality, there is no such thing as ‘total vision.’ No one can know for sure what another person is thinking, no matter how much time passes.

Every human being is unique in existence, and the only way to know a little about those around you is with a lot of time and an accurate study of behaviors.

So, how did Sangah say things like this so casually? How did she seem to know him, even though their time together was practically nonexistent?

Dokja’s office and Sangah’s office are as far apart as the wall that separates them as people.

Dokja is an average worker, with an average life, and will soon have to make sure no one recognizes him during his job interviews.

Sangah is an ideal worker, with a unique life, and won’t have to worry about waking up every morning wondering if her bank account will keep plummeting.

She works hard and gives her all.

He only does what’s necessary.

However, even in small things, Sangah had been completely right about what she claimed for him.

Where did she learn how to treat someone like Kim Dokja? How could she have known how to treat the son of—

“The food was delicious.” Sangah’s sudden comment made him stop eating automatically.

“Yes.” Dokja continued with his meal.

Though what was left was just leftovers, he wasn’t going to leave a single grain of rice on the plate. Not because he was hungry, but because this cost hours of hard work, and Kim Dokja wasn’t someone who liked leaving just an eighth of a plate behind.

Though mediocre, if he had the chance and the conditions were right, he liked to do things well.

He rarely did, but if he could, it was a good opportunity to feel good.

“I won’t be long, I’m going to the bathroom.”

Sangah stood up and then disappeared from his field of vision. Dokja swallowed the last bit that was left, not with much appetite.

'When she comes back, she will try to pay. I’ll do it quickly and save myself the trouble.'

He stood up, checking his wallet.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt it was quite full.

It wasn’t that he was someone who spent on tiny things and accumulated these small expenses into ghost debts he’d suffer at the end of the month.

Dokja is someone who grew up with the need to save tiny amounts of money as if they were diamonds. It doesn’t mean he never faced contingencies. His first encounter with banks showed him what it meant to control his wallet, and it was an experience he would never forget.

“Here you go.”

Once the order was confirmed, he handed the money to the cashier and waited for the change.

“Hey, kid.” The man spoke to him, and Dokja looked at him.

He was an older man with gray hair, but abundant, a notable but well-trimmed beard, and a constitution that clearly showed a long path filled with human experiences.

He wasn’t extraordinary, but he gave off the impression of being wise. As wise as an ordinary human can be.

“You should be a bit more expressive with your girlfriend.”

Dokja raised an eyebrow. What did he mean?

“I don’t know how you treated your previous partners, but try to be good to her. It’s very noticeable that she cares about you.”

To say Dokja felt out of place was an understatement.

And this was the nail in the coffin.

“… I hadn’t noticed.”

“Ah. I know, kid. Men aren’t really attentive to that kind of thing, and I think it’s in our nature,” he said. “But improving is also part of that. So try to find topics to talk to her about.”

Dokja didn’t say anything as the cashier gave him his change.

He didn’t know how to respond to that.

The man pondered for a moment with his hand on his chin.

“Find a movie she’s interested in, watch it, and try to find something to talk about from there.”

A movie? What kind of movie could someone like Yoo Sangah like?

“Well, I’ll leave you now. Treat her well.”

Why did the world suddenly feel so strange? Where was the silence and indifference he was used to? Why now—

“Dokja-ssi…”

Definitely… this isn’t a love story.

Dokja always considered his life to be realistic, nothing more and nothing less.

And Yoo Sangah’s existence wouldn’t change that.

It wouldn’t, no matter how much the world seemed to want to make it so.

However, there’s something people usually confuse, and Dokja wondered if he had done it too.

Realism is not the same as loneliness.

Realism is not the same as pain.

Realism is not the same as anguish.

Realism is not the same… as his lifestyle.

Kim Dokja has always lived illuminated by a dim light that guides him step by step, but has never shown him a path. He stays alive simply because he does.

If his life weren’t realistic, but “fantastic,” perhaps he could be considered someone unique in the world.

Someone who fights against adversity…

It would be a good title for a story.

A story that would even fit the level of a protagonist like Yoo Joonghyuk.

But putting that aside.

“Did you pay for everything? Sorry, I’ll give you my part of the bill.”

Kim Dokja put the money in his wallet, a very old one he had gotten from a vending machine years ago.

“It’s no problem.” Dokja quickly walked to the exit. The breeze felt different on his skin.

“But—”

“Don’t worry. It’s my way of paying you back for yesterday’s lunch.”

“Really? I don’t want to be a bother.”

Dokja shook his head. “Not at all… By the way, have you seen the Lord of the Rings movie, Sangah-ssi?”

“The Lord of the Rings? Ah, yes. I went to the theater to see them when they came out, I don’t remember them entirely, but I really liked them. Why?”

For now, he would try to handle this situation correctly.

“Who’s your favorite character?”

.

.

.

.

Survival Guide for a Fake Marriage – Tip 2.

Inevitably, his dismissal was bound to come.

Kim Dokja left Mino Soft a few days later with his hands in the pockets of black pants he had bought on sale, wearing a plain white turtleneck and a jacket the same color as his pants.

To be specific, that day was Monday.

He stretched his arms.

"The money should be enough for this month and the next," he thought out loud. "Although I have time to look for a job, I need to do it quickly."

The landlord was very annoying when he wanted to be.

Although, that’s my responsibility. I signed the contract for a reason.

Ugh. Dokja decided it was better to put on his headphones and ignore the world for the rest of the day. He didn’t have plans to have lunch with Yoo Sangah either, so he might as well wander aimlessly and have a light snack until evening.

/ (Yoo Sangah):

/Today, I’m going to have a continuous workday.

/There's a place I want to check out, but they only open at night.

/I want to go as soon as possible because it’s a bit crowded.

/Do you want to come with me? I’m waiting for your reply!

Dokja read Sangah’s messages.

Since their agreement, Dokja had frequently had lunch with her except on Saturdays and Sundays. Although Yoo Sangah would still message him during those days, the responses from Dokja were a little dry, and the conversations lasted no longer than five minutes.

He realized that, when not hiding behind a fake name on a website, it was very difficult to express himself. Sangah had somehow been extroverted enough to get an introvert like him out of his comfort zone in person, but only a divine miracle would make him do the same online.

It’s not that Dokja is a jerk, he’s just… him. Okay?

He was making an extraordinary effort to talk to her. He searched for famous and entertaining movies that Yoo Sangah might like, and during their time together, he tried to encourage communication.

It was awkward, but Sangah seemed entertained by anything he said. And that was more than enough.

Maybe he should start looking for books and novels she likes. What kind of novels would someone like Yoo Sangah enjoy? Hmm.

But for now, what should he say? He didn’t have plans this afternoon. Well, he didn’t have plans any afternoon. Besides, the author of TWSA had updated earlier in the day, and Dokja had devoured every word like a hungry person on the subway on the way to Mino Soft, so he could accept her offer.

Also, considering that she knew well how little Dokja could tolerate anyone else, Sangah probably had planned from the start to go with him.

Sometimes, he thought Sangah moved too fast.

“Maybe it’s just the way she handles things.”

Yoo Sangah is naturally charismatic, someone who probably was part of the student council and adored by her teachers and everyone around her.

An idol.

Therefore, although Dokja wouldn’t claim that he felt completely comfortable with her presence at all times, it was rare that he could honestly say he wanted to distance himself from her. It was such a rare occasion that it never happened.

Normally, Dokja doesn’t feel comfortable with those around him. Not knowing what others think when they speak to him scares him in a way.

[Kim Dokja despises the unknown.]

A small voice echoed in his head.

But in a way, that comment was incorrect.

[Kim Dokja normally despises the unknown.]

Sangah is the rare exception to the rule. There are only two exceptions to that rule.

Certainly, it’s not something you could call attachment or affection. It’s something rare. Very rare.

To summarize, you could say that it’s the fact that Sangah has the aura of a protagonist that catches his attention. Her unusual, practically fictional presence, which feels absurd to him, is a curious aspect of this woman.

She is unique, the kind of person who stands at the center of the world, one of the few cases where the world would stop just for her to walk.

And it was a mix of everything she is.

A human being doesn’t just have one facet. Everyone has many facets.

And everything that Sangah is, is what makes her unique.

Regardless of whether it was a wealthy and well-known man like Han Myungoh or a solitary and marginalized one like Kim Dokja.

It’s easy to push her out of your mind, and it’s easy to remember her.

Because she’s that, a simple woman who shines for who she is.

A woman who, with that simplicity, becomes special.

Unlike Kim Dokja, who never tried to squeeze himself to shine.

All he did was stare at the store windows he passed by… imagining scenarios that would never happen unless he tried.

“… Just like now.” He sighed.

Although it’s a faint sound, Dokja can hear a creak coming from the store he’s looking at. There’s a long, polarized glass window. The glass is so opaque that he can only slightly see the inside when he squints his eyes.

But, what could he do? It’s not like someone like him could change overnight.

“I need a lot of time and dedication. And money,” he said, then reviewed his situation.

Oh, damn. He couldn’t make excuses either. Even if he had to eventually look for another job, at least for a month he could give himself a little freedom to try new things.

Could he… be a better person?

Could he become someone like Yoo Sangah?

Dokja was going to be her husband, wasn’t he? How could someone like him be a good husband?

Not that he cared about other people’s opinions; he had learned to live with it. In fact, the only person who could crucify Kim Dokja until he felt like a leech was Kim Dokja himself.

He took a few steps back, looking at the building’s name.

“… It won’t kill me to try.”

However, before anything else.

/ (Me:)

/Sure.

/Shall we meet at six?

.
.
.
.
.

Yoo Sangah is a woman who tries hard.

Yoo Sangah gives her best, and that’s why she’s considered a functional adult.

Being a functional adult shouldn’t be strange, but given how society is, it seems like it is.

She has challenges and goals, which she has faced and achieved. She’s someone who lives in a normal world, trying to have a good life.

The only thing she would like is for people to stop treating her like… an idol?

The attention has gotten to a point where it exhausts her.

Most people around her make her feel like she’s on a completely different level. And it shouldn’t be like that. If everyone had the same level of dedication they put into flattering her, they’d see how normal she is.

Mostly, the people who follow her are like this.

The exceptions are few.

Her family.

… And well, that’s it.

No. Actually, there was someone else.

Kim Dokja.

Kim Dokja is a man she met during the first days since she arrived at the company, by coincidence and nothing but pure chance. Their relationship isn’t special.

They’re two strangers.

And although they are two strangers, she feels more empathy for him than most of the workers at Mino Soft.

She’s found him in the elevator.

She’s found him in her office.

She’s found him in the cafeteria.

And Dokja always treats her the same.

Yoo Sangah is a beautiful and dedicated woman, with whom she doesn’t want to spend too much time. Sangah isn’t clueless; if people get the impression that her natural kindness makes her dumb, that’s a huge mistake.

She’s smart; it’s no coincidence she had an outstanding academic average. Her body was given to her by genetics, but her mind was forged with blood, sweat, and tears.

And many nights where her only companion was caffeine.

But setting that aside and returning to Kim Dokja, Sangah would describe him as a strange man.

He’s thin, painfully thin.

He’s pale, painfully pale.

He’s solitary, painfully solitary.

Humans are social mammals by nature. Humans need to connect with their environment, maybe not a lot, but they need to do so. Dokja, in some way, had survived his entire time at Mino Soft without talking to almost anyone.

He looked very comfortable staring for prolonged periods of time without exchanging a word. The only voices Kim Dokja heard were the ones through his headphones.

And no, it’s not that Yoo Sangah was stalking him. But his habits were so easy to see that only an idiot wouldn’t realize what kind of person he was.

Sangah hadn’t been to Dokja’s work area many times, and with the few times she had walked by, she had been able to get an idea of what kind of man he was.

With the brief greetings during casual encounters, she had come to a small conclusion:

He’s a lonely man.

Which isn’t healthy. It’s something she should be worried about. And until a specific day, she did worry about his mental health.

Also about his physical health, but that one was much easier to handle with a good diet. Even if Yoo Sangah skipped meals from time to time, that was rare for her.

With Kim Dokja, it was normal. The strange part was that Kim Dokja had a proper meal.

However… Sangah never felt so relieved that Dokja was somewhat sick.

It’s a disgusting and wicked thought, but for Sangah, it was a salvation.

A painful one, but a salvation, after all.

“Marry me, Dokja-ssi.”

Sangah remembers those words over and over, and although she didn’t reveal the reason for her request to Dokja right away, the only person she could ask something like that was him.

Not because she knew him for a long time or because he was an unforgettable friend. No, the reason she could ask Dokja to marry her was because it was him.

Because he’s the only man who seems grounded and treats people like people, even if he doesn’t like them.

She would dig her own grave before asking anyone from her work zone to do this.

She would throw herself into hot magma before asking a “higher-up.”

And she wasn’t wrong; the request, although uncomfortable, went well. Kim Dokja had accepted to be her husband.

She felt a little bad when the man rejected her money, as he wouldn’t gain anything from this arrangement, but she decided that, at least, she’d treat him so well that he wouldn’t regret his decision.

So far, she had only accumulated successes.

She managed to get him to agree to go eat with her, and unless he was on work hours, he responded to her messages quickly.

Her intention had been to pay for the meals, but Dokja would beat her to it, at least paying for his own.

Only when she told him that she didn’t feel comfortable when he paid for the entire bill, she convinced him to let each of them pay for their own.

That said, she rejected the money for their first meal by changing the topic.

She’d pay him one day; she’d figure out how.

Until the day Kim Dokja was fired, everything was fine. No, scratch that. Everything continued fine.

/(Dokja-ssi):

/Sure.

/Shall we meet at six?

Dokja had agreed. The message gave her a unique sense of relief.

She certainly didn’t love Kim Dokja. Sangah had only had one relationship in her life and knew for a fact that she didn’t love him.

It wasn’t like that romance had a good story, but those were details.

What she wouldn’t deny: his presence is refreshing. The fact that Dokja is so introverted and awkward helped Sangah know how to handle him. She was concerned that he didn’t seem accustomed to being treated with respect, but that was another matter.

“Why are you smiling so much, Sangah-ah?”

Sangah almost jumped out of her skin as she crushed her cell phone between her desk and her hand.

“Good morning, Minseo-ya.”

The woman looked at her with an arched eyebrow.

“You already greeted me.”

“Eh? Is that so?”

The woman grinned mischievously. Lee Minseo is the strangest exception to anything in Sangah’s life. Even the honorific she usually calls her with means nothing.

She calls her that because they met on her second day at the company, and with all the time they’ve worked together, it would be weird not to call her something else. Their ages only differ by a few months, making Minseo her senior, but not much else. In fact, Sangah seems more like the older one.

The woman looked over her at the screen of her phone.

“So, what’s going on? Is that your boyfriend?”

Technically, yes, but although Sangah didn’t mind if the whole company eventually found out, she didn’t want to rush things. If she became the most talked-about gossip for a month from the next hour because someone had taken a picture of her with Kim Dokja, great.

But if she could delay that headache for a while, that would be great too.

Besides, the woman in front of her was one of the most well-known gossipers in the entire company. Which Lee Minseo knew, and which the whole company would know in the next five minutes.

“He’s just an acquaintance. We’re meeting tonight.”

“Why did you hide it?”

“Regardless of whether I’m working, on the street, or in my apartment, I value my privacy. Thanks.”

“Oh. But Sangah-ah, I thought we had enough trust not to do that between us.”

Sangah turned off her phone and subtly tucked it into her bag while organizing some papers.

“I didn’t know it was you, Minseo-ya. It could’ve been someone else, and I wouldn’t want anyone to know about my private matters.”

“So, you wouldn’t mind telling me?”

Actually, no. If Minseo weren’t such a gossiper, Sangah would tell her all the details of her situation.

When she wanted to, Minseo could be surprisingly mature. And she had much more experience in this territory than Yoo Sangah.

“No, but considering we have a lot of work to do, it’s better to start quickly.”

“But Sangah-ah…”

“No, Minseo-ya. Also, you left a lot of paperwork piled up last week. We don’t want to be scolded again for an unjustified delay. I can’t think of a way to get out of another one.”

“It was a miracle you managed to convince that old man last time.” Minseo shuddered as she sat down at her cubicle. “Yeah, I think it’s best. But keep me posted when you get a partner. I’ll definitely make sure the gossip that gets to that bastard Myungoh is the worst of all. I’ll make him suffer.”

She laughed. “As you wish.”

Well, for now, regardless of the situation and her date with Dokja tonight, she would handle her duties.

Above all “marriage,” there are duties every individual must fulfill.

Chapter Text

Survival Guide for a Fake Marriage – Tip 3.

• Yoo Sangah: It’s a commercial area that has been recommended to me.

• Yoo Sangah: It has a considerable distribution of food, games, and shops.

• Yoo Sangah: It’s a very entertaining place according to what I researched. And you have original books on discount!

• Yoo Sangah: I’m sending you the address.

Kim Dokja doesn’t take long to choose what clothes to wear.

It’s not like he has many.

His wardrobe is full of pants, shirts, and jackets revolving around the colors black, white, and occasionally gray. No item is branded, but most have aged well over the years. He has three pairs of shoes, besides the ones he uses to go to work, and a pair of ties he rarely wears.

Ties are suffocating, nothing more to say.

“… No. Not this one either.”

Dokja looked at the clothes scattered on his bed with skepticism and a mostly flat expression. His black hair, slightly wet, let some drops slide down to the towel hanging on his shoulders. He had taken a cold shower, and although he didn’t spend much time in the shower, all the time he saved there was lost in this task.

“Something elegant?”

Elegance is not his strong suit. The only elegant thing in the cabinets is the uniform.

Well, and a long-sleeved black shirt that had been very well preserved. It had been a purchase over 25% more expensive than the average cost of the other garments, but considering that washing barely made it lose a noticeable shade, it hadn’t been a loss.

The problem was what he could match it with.

That was the problem with absolutely everything. Dokja made a note to buy a less laughable jacket during Christmas.

He had made countless combinations. The pants matched any outfit, however, the jacket was too ‘flashy.’ All of them were, and he was definitely not wearing his coat.

It’s not like the cold was so deadly. He looked at the black shirt for a moment before sighing.

He would save it for another occasion.

“I feel so dumb.”

Dokja quickly started putting away his clothes and left a sweatshirt, a jacket, and a random black pair of pants that he chose in a mental game of counting to ten. He applied deodorant and got dressed.

Because his hair is quite short and he doesn’t use any kind of gel or similar, he just untangled it and separated it properly until he saw his normal style.

Simple and bland, just how he liked it.

Well... What can he do? It’s three in the afternoon and the place wasn’t especially far. He could even take a walking route and wouldn’t take more than half an hour to arrive walking at his normal pace. In fact, maybe it would take about fifteen minutes.

“Ahh. It’s so different being unemployed.”

He lay back on his bed stretching his legs and relaxing his muscles.

He felt peace. Kim Dokja wished he could stay lying down, wrapped in the sheets and with his head resting on a comfortable pillow forever. What could be better? He closed his eyes; the peace, silent and comforting, began to make him sleepy.

However, Kim Dokja is not someone who easily succumbs to tiredness and unconscious states. Bleedings were another matter.

Just as his body could relax easily in any situation, it was also prepared to put itself on alert. Dokja turned over before getting up again. There was a slight anxiety killing him slowly.

An anxiety that was cooking slowly.

… As such, this would be his first date.

Lunches with Yoo Sangah wouldn’t count as dates; they were more like normal meetings.

Ahh. Yoo Sangah. The woman who had been hanging around him during the last days. Although less strange, it still felt out of place.

More so because his first relationship had gone directly to the marriage commitment. And, yes, Kim Dokja never had a girlfriend. Damn, he was still a virgin of lips.

[The only kisses he had received in his whole life were the kisses on the cheeks that his mother gave him after tucking him in.]

Kim Dokja looked out through the sliding window. His apartment, although cheap, was visibly scarce. Not because of the scarce furniture, since even his bed and dining table were nothing more than a poor excuse of what they should be, but because several handles were on the verge of their useful life.

He should look for something better once he found his next job. The landlord made it clear that his next contract would have an increase, and although that was normal, Dokja felt it like an armed robbery.

The question was where he could find something good. Finding an apartment at a good price, in a relatively safe residential area, and with enough urbanism not to worry about buying instant soup at midnight was not easy.

Not easy at all.

Kim Dokja’s contacts are scarce, so he couldn’t even ask for help. The only person who could help him with that was Yoo Sangah.

The more solutions he looked for to his problems, the more he realized that many started to have that woman as an answer. Dokja pursed his lips. Having trouble relating to others ended up in a relative dependence on the few people he had some contact with.

“I need to get some air.”

Dokja checked his wallet and made sure he had enough cash. He left his cards under the blankets and, locking the doors, went out to his destination.

Kim Dokja didn’t do anything special until he arrived at the location where he had to meet Yoo Sangah. He had taken a long route to kill time and kept his mind blank while listening to music with his headphones and being careful enough not to get run over by the idiot driver of the moment.

Sometimes he wondered how people managed to get a driver’s license.

Dokja put his hands in the jacket pockets while he started to snoop around. It was half an hour before Yoo Sangah was to appear, so he could afford to know where Sangah wanted to take him.

Who knows? Maybe he would run into the author of TWSA selling his novel in physical form.

Dokja laughed silently at the thought.

“Maybe someday it will happen.”

The place was certainly curious. Dokja didn’t go out very often, but he definitely had never heard or seen on the internet a zone like this in Seoul. There were small shops clustered on a well-formed stone path. Reflecting, Dokja considered this zone a mix between Yeouido Park and Changdeokgung Palace.

Nothing caught his interest. The seconds quickly turned into minutes, and although he whistled at some products, his hand didn’t tremble at the idea of getting a trinket. Where could he put them? It’s not like he was an expert in decoration.

Actually, he’s not an expert in anything. He can barely dress decently. If it weren’t for the paleness of his skin, he doubted even his casual clothes would look decent on him. His poor height didn’t help his weak cause.

What Kim Dokja would give to have a few more centimeters in height.

“Hmm?”

Dokja blinked. Although nothing until now had been enough to make him stop, there is always an exception. However, he didn’t expect this to catch his senses.

Inside a small glass jar, there were several cellphone charms. The designs varied: dinosaurs, flowers, fish, mammals, insects, among others.

However, although he didn’t know why, there was one that caught his whole visual field.

A short white ribbon charm with a small dove wearing a golden cowboy hat, which gave the impression of being made of gold. Obviously, it wasn’t made of gold, but the paint looked quite good. What kind of paint is that?

He looked at the prices.

“Not bad for 2,200 won.”

Humans are curious.

Fearing the unknown is normal; humans, like any other living organism, will always look for two things: one of them is something essential and the other something more personal and unique. However, no human can say they are fine if they don’t have both things at the same time.

Survival and well-being. Those are the two things that everyone puts above anything else.

Kim Dokja is no different. He doesn’t work for pleasure or strive out of desire. Kim Dokja works simply because he must pay bills and put food on the table. Kim Dokja works to pay the internet bill with good coverage to keep up with TWSA updates and, unfortunately, to be the only reader of his beloved novel.

Kim Dokja works to drink a glass of water in the solitude of his room while the moon is the only one who accompanies him every night.

He knows it will always be like this. Kim Dokja is a lonely man who has lived on the fringes of society. People who pass by him only see the average worker, someone who struggles not to die locked up in a residence with barely enough comforts to call it home.

It’s not like he considers that place his home; it’s just where he sleeps, bathes, and stays up late.

A pathetic life, but it’s the only one he can aspire to.

After all, Kim Dokja doesn’t excel at anything.

He entered a third-tier university because there was no other option.

He graduated with grades that barely stood out.

He wasn’t especially handsome either.

There was nothing remarkable about Kim Dokja.

Sometimes he wonders, why couldn’t the world he was born into be more... bright? Or why couldn’t he have been born as something more satisfying?

Even being born as a pigeon, soaring the skies, living in trees, and spending afternoons on the electric wires connected to the city poles, sounded more interesting than the life of an average salaried worker.

It was a short life, considering the diseases pigeons were exposed to, but still.

“Ugh, I’m thinking too much.”

Somehow, working made it easier not to have these kinds of thoughts. The fact that he had received his severance pay and completely cut ties with Mino Soft didn’t sound so good anymore.

“Everything is handmade, so it’s normal to doubt it.” Kim Dokja blinked at the saleswoman.

“Don’t worry about the quality, they’ll last long enough until you find something more interesting.”

“That’s an interesting way to market.”

The woman shrugged. “Honestly, these things rarely last more than a few months. Especially in a city like Seoul, you’ll always find something better.” To prove her point, she showed her phone with a beaver pendant.

“I bought this one yesterday downtown, and that’s even after buying another just a week ago.”

“...”

“Oh, and no. I’m not a reseller.” She showed him her pendant and one from the jar. “Mine aren’t as stylish, you can notice it in the paint.”

“I see.” He gave a dry laugh. Although he hadn’t thought about it, maybe the woman felt addressed. “Anyway… how much for that one?”

The woman looked at the pendant Kim Dokja had been examining since he arrived.

“Business. I like that,” she said. “Although, considering the price tag on the jar, do you want a discount?”

Kim Dokja shook his head as a sweat drop slid down his neck. He had simply forgotten the price. The culprit was his short-term memory. Also, the fact that it mixed with his thoughts amplified that disconnect from his surroundings.

She laughed. “Relax. Honestly, business hasn’t been very good for me around here, so I sell them cheaper.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“So, how much are we talking about?”

“2,700.”

Kim Dokja raised an eyebrow. “How is that cheaper?”

“Because I’ll sell you two for that price.”

Kim Dokja sighed.

“… Can’t you sell me one for 1,350?”

“No.” She gave him a soft smile.

Ironically, although the scene was set for the smile to hide a Machiavellian motive behind it, he couldn’t see it that way. The woman smiled honestly.

Why...? Well, it didn’t matter.

“Alright, I want that one and…” He thought for a few seconds. “The whale one.”

“Blue whale or humpback whale or beluga whale?”

“Blue whale.”

Kim Dokja quickly completed the transaction. For some reason, he felt relieved when he received his purchase.

“Should I pay extra because you gave them to me separately?”

Although she only gave him a simple plastic bag for each pendant, it never hurts to ask.

The woman shook her head.

“Not at all, courtesy of the house.”

“I understand, thanks.”

Kim Dokja turned around. Yoo Sangah shouldn’t be long in arriving, so he should text her soon to know where to find her.

“Now go to your girlfriend, she’s been watching you since you got here.”

[What?]

At that moment, Kim Dokja appreciated.

Kim Dokja is a man who rarely sees color in his surroundings. Everything around him is something he sees in black and white.

Colors are strange. There’s always a shade that tends to hover around gray, which gives a little pinch of excitement to his life. Sometimes, that shade is visible when his instant soup is just right and the noodles are a silent pleasure melting on his palate.

Other times, it’s when tls123 concludes an arc of TWSA by tying up all the loose ends left several chapters ago and letting Yoo Joonghyuk move on to another regression. Apart from that, Kim Dokja doesn’t precisely remember times when a real person who treated him decently had a beautiful color.

Oh. Actually, recently he could start counting those occasions.

[Kim Dokja has never openly or blatantly judged someone’s attractiveness. The only thing he’s done is apply the standard that tls123 used in TWSA based on Yoo Joonghyuk’s attractiveness.]

[However, for the first time in his entire existence, Kim Dokja had a thought that seemed taken from the worst romance manga.]

[It was a line of thought created from the imagination of an author who wrote stories for profit, not love, and who, consequently, only cared about satisfying a specific audience instead of fulfilling himself.]

[However, Kim Dokja couldn’t think of anything better. And definitely, he wouldn’t in any other scenario.]

‘… A uniform doesn’t do justice to Yoo Sangah.’

His heart didn’t beat with excitement and his cheeks didn’t flush, but his mind agreed that the woman standing three stores away from him looked radiant.

Yoo Sangah is beautiful, there’s no doubt about that.

However, this time she looked majestic, and it’s hard for someone like him to give a compliment.

She didn’t look majestic because she had a layer of makeup, since Kim Dokja couldn’t actually see any hint of blush or lipstick, nor because her outfit came from the best fashion magazine of the last century, since her outfit looked simple enough that he could theorize she was someone who bought clothes on sale to save a bit of money.

The reason was because everything about her was organized like a thousand-piece puzzle, and very few knew the pleasure of placing the last piece.

Yoo Sangah’s hair was in her usual style.

Yoo Sangah’s skin had its usual tone.

The slight tiredness in Yoo Sangah’s eyes was at its usual level.

Yoo Sangah’s straight posture was in its usual position.

Everything about her looked normal.

Everything about her looked genuine.

And all those genuine aspects of Yoo Sangah were framed by her outfit.

She wore a simple summer dress that reached below her knees. It wasn’t flashy and was just a simple dress that fit her figure properly.

And over that dress, although in a slightly strange combination, there was a beige coat left open, a little shorter. Her footwear was simple light-colored sandals.

He barely paid attention to the light brown hands-free bag she carried.

Somehow, it was hard to regain control of his senses. Kim Dokja’s body nerves seemed to all become nerves of the peripheral nervous system, more specifically the autonomic nervous system, since all stopped responding to orders from his control center.

‘Has her smile always looked like this? I feel like it burns my eyes because it’s so bright.’

There was no romantic feeling behind that line of thought, but Kim Dokja couldn’t deny it was a thought full of the greatest honesty he could express.

“Dokja-ssi!”

Kim Dokja regained control of his body.

The reason he lost control of himself was the reason it came back.

Yoo Sangah.

She approached with slightly quick steps but showed her natural grace. It wasn’t the elegant walk from hours of etiquette class, it was the walk of a woman who lives a pleasant life in a world where hundreds of millions of other people live with different lifestyles.

“I didn’t expect you to arrive early, but I’m glad you’ve already explored a bit.” She looked at the packages in Kim Dokja’s hands with a smile. “I see something that caught your attention.”

“Eh? Ah, yes.” Kim Dokja hit himself on the cheek inwardly. “They looked nice.”

“I didn’t expect you to have this kind of taste.”

He shrugged embarrassed.

“I felt my phone could use a little more shine.”

“How about a pink case?”

“… I don’t want it to be too shiny either.”

She laughed softly before grabbing his arm. “The night is long, so we have time to look for something according to your tastes.”

Kim Dokja wasn’t used to physical contact, but the way Yoo Sangah entwined her arm with his didn’t feel strange.

She had this strange habit since their first lunch together, and although at first Kim Dokja’s body felt the need to become rigid as stone, that instinct slowly began to lessen. Although Korean culture talks about keeping distance from those you haven’t known long, Yoo Sangah didn’t take that into account.

Kim Dokja thought she wasn’t a traditional woman, which he liked. She wasn’t someone who felt invasive, but rather friendly and outgoing; there was a thoughtful touch in her actions, as if she pondered every action she took but always maintained a comforting attitude.

It still didn’t feel right, but… it wasn’t bad either. There was just a small problem.

“Ouch!”

“Eh? Are you okay, Dokja-ssi?”

“Y-Yes. It’s just a little discomfort I’ve had for a few hours.”

“Should we go to the hospital?”

“Don’t worry, it’s something that will pass with a good rest.”

… How is such a change possible in so little time?

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(2 / 5)

“Would you accept if I gave you a monthly payment?”

“… Even if I accepted your marriage proposal, please, don’t do that.”

Yoo Sangah’s body wanted to collapse. Kim Dokja noticed the slight wobble in her body and how she bit her cheek inwardly. Although Yoo Sangah’s expression didn’t show many changes, the few that did appear, Kim Dokja could glimpse.

“What amount of money would you accept?”

“It’s not about money, Sangah-ssi. Please, understand that.”

“Then, what should I do for you to accept?”

“Being honest could be a good start. Why are you asking me this? I don’t understand.”

“I already told you.”

“You know I’m not talking about that.”

If Yoo Sangah had enough strength, she would have dug her nails into her palms from how tightly she was clenching them. Yoo Sangah’s usually serene, kind, or at worst tired eyes showed an emotion that made him shudder internally.

Desperation.

“It’s complicated…”

“I’m also in a complicated situation here, Sangah-ssi, but I think you should justify your request properly.”

She firmly closed her mouth. Yoo Sangah’s body trembled slightly. If it weren’t for the surreal nature of the situation, Kim Dokja might have worried enough to ask if she needed something from the nearest pharmacy.

Kim Dokja sighed.

“But I guess you won’t tell me, no matter how much I ask.”

The silence he received from her was the answer he needed. Waiting for that answer was a waste of time, so he needed to change the course of the plan.

He needed to get out of this mess.

“So, what should we do?”

“… Accept my proposal?”

God, how desperate was this woman? Kim Dokja had expected many things since entering Mino Soft, but never that Yoo Sangah would want him as her husband. Even if it was obvious it wasn’t love, he didn’t expect to see her so anguished and unstable.

“No. We won’t do that.”

The brightness vanished as easily as Kim Dokja spoke those words.

“I understand.”

“You make it seem like my refusal is a death sentence.”

It was a tactless comment, and he internally scolded himself after saying it. Regardless of how uncomfortable Yoo Sangah made him feel, saying that was utterly despicable.

However, to his surprise and dismay, Yoo Sangah laughed.

There was surprise because the laugh sounded natural and genuinely amused.

But the dismay came when Yoo Sangah let herself fall weakly against his arm.

Kim Dokja tensed at the contact.

“Actually, it is a death sentence.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“But you’re not wrong, Dokja-ssi.”

“I am, since I doubt you committed a crime so serious to receive that kind of punishment.”

She looked him directly in the eyes. This time, Yoo Sangah’s eyes showed no sparkle. Kim Dokja wondered what emotional control this woman must have to have her eyes look so dull.

“What if I did?”

Silence.

That was what existed between them.

Kim Dokja and Yoo Sangah stared at each other. It was a battle of gazes seeking to see who had the stronger will in a scenario of utter discomfort.

It was a challenge from Yoo Sangah to Kim Dokja.

However, Kim Dokja was not the kind of man to wait for things to follow others’ wishes; he preferred to twist things so they turned out the way he wanted. He had enough judgment to know how to handle such an unusual situation.

“Did you steal?”

“No.”

And although he had to suppress a deep memory for the next question he was going to ask, he didn’t falter.

“Did you kill?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t see what could condemn you to life imprisonment.”

“… That’s because a death sentence doesn’t just mean you stop breathing.” She said mockingly, but without grace and not caring about how senseless what she said was. “I’d rather die than live a life in someone else’s palm.”

It was like a punch in the stomach. Kim Dokja felt like he was running out of air and how Yoo Sangah’s words echoed strongly enough in his head to make him stagger.

Although Kim Dokja’s body didn’t move and his breathing became heavy, his brain connections were in full operation.

No, scratch that. Kim Dokja’s brain connections were at their best moment.

“… Sangah-ssi.”

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you ask someone else?”

“We already talked about that, Dokja-ssi.”

“But seriously, don’t you have other candidates? What about Han Myungoh?”

“Do you hate me?”

“No, I don’t…”

“Then I don’t understand why you say something like that.” She said without moving. She pressed her forehead harder against Kim Dokja’s arm. “He won’t bother to consider that marriage isn’t a love request, but a… favor.”

“What makes you think I’m different?”

“Because you are, Dokja-ssi.”

That was a quick answer with not a hint of doubt, something that caught him off guard. Why her…?

“How can you guarantee that?”

There was a new pause in the conversation and, although Kim Dokja still didn’t feel comfortable, he neither moved nor stepped away.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

“Yes.”

“Do you consider me hardworking?”

“Quite.”

“Do you think I’m unique?”

“You’re one in a million.”

She laughed, although this time, it felt more genuine than a few minutes ago. Kim Dokja didn’t understand where she wanted to go with that series of questions.

“Do you know how Han Myungoh would have answered?”

Although Yoo Sangah’s face was covered by her hair, Kim Dokja could still see from the nostrils down.

“… Yes.”

“Since you know, let’s play a game. You’ll be Han Myungoh, and I’ll be the usual Yoo Sangah.”

Somehow, it was easier to know that Kim Dokja would better fulfill his role than Yoo Sangah would hers. And although neither mentioned it, they both knew it was a fact.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

“Yoo Sangah shouldn’t ask such an irrelevant question. I think everyone in this office knows the answer to such an obvious question. Although, why do you ask me that? Could it be…?”

Yoo Sangah’s lips closed as Dokja said those words. She struggled to hold back the laughter that wanted to escape from her lips, and fortunately, she succeeded. Kim Dokja’s expression didn’t change; it remained neutral.

“Do you consider me hardworking?”

“Hm? Why do you ask something like that? Yoo Sangah is the most hardworking person, not only in human resources but in all of Mino Soft. I’m sure if she keeps it up, she’ll have dozens of job opportunities and new doors will open for her, don’t you think? Still, why do you ask that? Do you want me to flatter you?”

This time, Yoo Sangah almost lost the fight.

“Do you think I’m unique?”

“They say we all have four twins scattered around the world, identical to us and the only thing that differentiates us is geographic location. However, it’s impossible to think there’s more than one Yoo Sangah in the world. Let’s consider ourselves lucky to have Yoo Sangah on our side until our last days.”

Although Kim Dokja could see how she tried to control her breathing almost superhumanly, there was a deep laugh that she hid rather discreetly.

“You lacked emotion.”

“I know, but I don’t see myself shouting the answer to a question asked of me as if I had just won the lottery ticket that would fix my life. And even if I had, I’m sure I’d just leave the country silently.”

Maybe he’d even contact tls123 directly and try to get more people to know the magnificence of TWSA. Why did TWSA have so few readers? Yoo Joonghyuk was a bastard pretty face, but at least he should have killed himself in every regression to try to achieve his goals!

Also, not all women chased him like bees after honey! Although, well, if anyone other than Lee Seolhwa could love that idiot, the constellations would stop being complete idiots.

Things that would obviously never happen.

“Pff.” Yoo Sangah laughed gracefully. She stepped back and covered her mouth with her hand.

Somehow, that lightened the atmosphere.

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Lucky! Luck!
That was the name of the place.

“Exactly, what are we waiting for?”

“I don’t know.”

Kim Dokja kept a blank expression at Yoo Sangah’s response, who wore a gentle smile. Both were staring intently at a spinning color wheel that had been turning for two minutes. It was supposed to be a Western game, but although the owner of the stall had explained how it worked and there was a two-meter-long sign on both sides, they didn’t understand what it was about.

They didn’t bother to find out either, they just waited. They were supposed to choose a card from the ten options the vendor gave them and wait for the wheel to stop. They didn’t understand what one had to do with the other, since the card choice wasn’t related to the spinning wheel, which only had numbers from 1 to 20.

They waited and waited, and when Kim Dokja started feeling annoyed that the wheel wouldn’t stop spinning and was about to stop it with a finger, the wheel stopped.

It landed on number seventeen.

“Oh? Isn’t youth very lucky?” The man applauded. “You got a very good number.”

“Did we win?” Yoo Sangah asked innocently and very confused.

“Yes, and big time, miss!” The man started searching through some wooden boxes.

Kim Dokja and Yoo Sangah exchanged glances and shrugged. It hadn’t been a very fun game, but the owner was quite charismatic.

“Here it is, an invaluable beauty!” When he opened the box, Kim Dokja and Yoo Sangah found a small bunch of tickets. “You will get a great discount at all places associated with Lucky! Luck!”

Neither moved. The man, hands on hips, sweated when he noticed both adults’ disappointment. Although Kim Dokja didn’t bother hiding his bored expression, the one that hurt the most was Yoo Sangah’s, who, still smiling, didn’t move a muscle.

“What’s with those faces? Take one quickly, I promise you won’t regret it! There are many partners who will be happy to have you. In fact, take two each! I’m feeling generous today.”

“I see, thank you very much.”

‘She's killing him with just her gaze.’ Kim Dokja thought as he took his so-called prize. ‘I didn’t think it could be this deadly.’

“Keep going, young people! I have many customers waiting.”

A vein popped on Kim Dokja’s neck. If Yoo Sangah hadn’t quickly pulled him, he was sure he would have given the vendor a death stare. Especially considering he had paid with his own money.

Although Sangah had invited him, he felt he could at least pay here and there whenever she wasn’t paying attention.

‘We’re your only customers. I’m sure this place is a scam.’

“What discounts did you take, Dokja-ssi?”

He looked over the coupons. “One for 35% and another for 63%,” he said. “But where are we supposed to use these? No place around here has this stamp.”

“Do you think we were scammed?”

“Yes…”

In some way, hearing Yoo Sangah say these thoughts so easily didn’t feel that unreal. Words criticizing the existence of another individual were not so strange.

Well, it made sense, Yoo Sangah is smart, not a dumb airhead. She’s one of the few who could say she earned her place through effort and not by cleaning the shoes of Mino Soft’s predators.

She nodded while putting her coupons in her bag; Kim Dokja did the same, putting his in his jacket.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. We still have plenty of games to enjoy.”

“I’m surprised a place like this stays afloat, considering these spots are only profitable on specific dates and events during the year.”

“That’s what gives it its charm, don’t you think?”

Yoo Sangah stopped them in front of another stall. Although she didn’t bother looking up to see the name of the place, the game here was tuho.

“I suppose.”

Kim Dokja was quicker than Yoo Sangah and had already paid for the turns before she had a chance to speak. She just watched as Kim Dokja received the change with parted lips.

“I thought we would pay per turn.”

“The night is long, Sangah-ssi,” he said. “You can pay for the next two games.”

“Will you let me do that?”

He didn’t answer and simply handed her the arrows. The brown-haired woman sighed as they all ended up in her hands.

Though solitary, Kim Dokja was pretty fast at doing things. For someone who had lived alone throughout his stay at Mino Soft, this attitude was strange.

She wondered if it was out of courtesy, commitment, or just a formality. Although she was sure she had earned a bit of Kim Dokja’s appreciation these days, she hadn’t expected him to treat her so traditionally.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but for Yoo Sangah, who was used to living alone, eating alone, and enjoying her life as an adult who hadn’t expected a marriage proposal a month ago, and in reality didn’t want one, it felt odd.

“Don’t you want to play?”

“I’m not very good at these games.” Well, actually she had rarely been to a place like this. Kim Dokja didn’t remember the last year-end and New Year festival he had attended.

“Please, make an effort.” He crossed his arms.

Yoo Sangah gave him an exhausted look; they were supposed to enjoy this together, not just her.

‘Alright, we’ll do this on your terms, Dokja-ssi,’ she thought.

She took a deep breath looking at the vase. Although there was only one ‘winning’ entrance, there were other wooden rings surrounding the vase’s entrance, all marked with a red ‘loss’ tag.

[Kim Dokja affirms everyone has qualities.]

[Yoo Sangah is one of those people with dozens of them. Although he doesn’t know much about her, he knows she’s very capable.]

[But, will she also be good at these games? What was going on with her? Is Yoo Sangah a Mary Sue?]

“… Wow.”

Kim Dokja looked with slightly open eyes at the fact that Yoo Sangah had hit all the targets. Even the vendor, who normally should have been rolling and arguing that he couldn’t give one of the big prizes since it meant a loss for him, stared at the vase as if he couldn’t believe it.

During festive dates, these kinds of games were made to win; however, considering it was a place that stayed open during other times of the year, the difficulty had been intentionally increased by reducing the vase’s size to triple the size of the arrow.

“You’re amazing, Sangah-ssi.”

“I’m a little rusty.” She fanned herself. “I haven’t done something like this in years.”

“That wasn’t the impression you gave me.”

Yoo Sangah brought a hand to her chin looking at the prizes. “What should we choose? Can we pick whatever we want?”

“I guess.”

Kim Dokja looked at the man, who silently nodded.

“Uhm… In any case, I want the penguin.”

“One moment, miss.”

[The world is full of clichés.]

[Although people get tired of saying they hate clichés, most like living them.]

[Kim Dokja has read many reincarnation novels that, although cliché, became famous, regardless of whether their main audience was young people, adults, men, or women.]

[One of the biggest clichés Kim Dokja has always seen is when the male protagonist proves to have another quality that had never been hinted at or seen before in anything ever.]

[This cliché has a wide margin of selection, but one that has tired Kim Dokja to the bone is when the protagonist is the best at some damn game he had never heard of and wins a prize during the festival arc and gives it to the female protagonist.]

[The maiden would blush until she looked like a red apple and, if it was a Japanese work, would respond with a typical ‘Baka’, but wouldn’t reject the gift.]

However, in the present… should she blush like a maiden? Yoo Sangah extended the penguin she had won toward him.

“Sangah-ssi?”

“Take it. It’s yours.”

“You won it.”

“You paid.”

“Yes, but I didn’t do anything else,” he said. “Besides, what am I supposed to do with a stuffed animal? I don’t have space.”

That was a lie, but Kim Dokja would rather declare himself dead than accept the prize.

“You can use it to sleep with.”

“Yes… No, I’m not doing that. Keep it, Sangah-ssi.” He quickly started walking.

“Come on, there are many other places to see—”

Kim Dokja felt a weight on his back and a pressure so focused it made him fall forward. Fortunately, he managed to avoid falling completely by resting on one knee and one hand.

The weight on his back felt soft. Kim Dokja looked over his shoulder.

“… Huh?”

“Please, accept it, Dokja-ssi. Bam is yours.”

That night, Kim Dokja didn’t find any interesting books to buy.

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Survival Guide for a Fake Marriage – Tip 4.

Kim Dokja didn’t hear from Yoo Sangah for several days, aside from the occasional “good morning” and short messages. The date between two adults who had made an agreement to survive through a fake marriage had become just an experience and a memory.

While shifting among the blankets and burying his face in Bam, he enjoyed another pleasant morning without having to get up for work. He would have to get up in half an hour, exactly at 7 AM to start his routine, but there was still some time left.

Kim Dokja realized this was a life of luxury.

Living in the comfort of a room that kept out wind and rain, trapping warmth inside four walls, was the pinnacle of what you could call wealth. No worries, no stress, no pain, nothing.

There was only TWSA and its intrepid reader, Kim Dokja.

Eventually, he had to leave the sheets, wash up, eat something, and get ready to go out. Tls123 hadn’t updated TWSA, so he could read a new chapter in the afternoon or at night. Although Tls123 had strange habits when it came to updates, Kim Dokja had noticed something.

Tls123 updated very early or late at night.

Well, that didn’t matter for now.

‘Things must be rough at Mino Soft.’

Yoo Sangah felt stressed.

Very stressed.

Normally, she was very diligent with her tasks, and although her coworkers often had trouble with their own activities, she usually lent them a hand so they wouldn’t have to stay late into the night risking something unfortunate.

It wasn’t out of altruism, but rather a way to keep her own conscience clear.

However, that day she wasn’t in a good mood. Which was rare—Yoo Sangah was rarely in a bad mood.

So, when Lee Minseo approached her with a strong, black coffee—no sugar or anything else other than hot water and granulated coffee—Yoo Sangah couldn’t feel more grateful to anyone in the world.

Although Lee Minseo was mostly a gossiping hyena, she could also be incredibly understanding with her.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

That’s where their conversation ended.

Which was normal, considering the probation contract period had ended and they were now in recruitment, selection, and hiring processes. Whenever probation contracts ended, HR was buried under paperwork, and the fact that besides them, there was only one other worker in their area proved the point.

Cubicles normally occupied by other employees were empty, as they had been moved to exhibitions and training activities. Yoo Sangah stayed doing the ridiculously extensive paperwork while also reviewing the resumes of each candidate.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to be sneaky during this process. Fortunately, this time there was no acquaintance of anyone from Mino Soft involved, so she could do her job according to her heart’s will—and her heart said she had to be fair to everyone.

Whoever stayed as an official employee or unofficial staff would do so on their own merits, and she would make sure of that.

Eventually, the hand of the clock hanging on one end of the office moved with the rhythm of the sun shining outside. Time passed, and it was time to leave.

Yes, night. Yoo Sangah and Lee Minseo had agreed to work straight through.

“They definitely don’t pay me enough.” Lee Minseo stretched ridiculously theatrically. “We should revolt and demand our labor rights.”

“They pay us above the legal minimum, respect the start and end times, and pay overtime. I’m not sure we should complain, Minseo-ya.”

“But Sangah-ah…”

“Better let’s go have dinner. Let’s take advantage of our break.” Yoo Sangah said after tidying her desk. “Didn’t you want some barbecue?”

Lee Minseo got up from her seat and was already heading to the exit as Yoo Sangah asked.

“Yes, I know a fantastic place.”

Although Yoo Sangah was social, she considered herself very selective.

She knew who she should relate to and who not, understood the underlying intentions of people around her and what they wanted from her. Somehow, at some point, she had gotten used to treating most people formally and rehearsed, making it difficult to break the walls she had built around herself.

“This beer is awesome!”

Lee Minseo climbed those walls with a crazy smile until Yoo Sangah had no choice but to call her “friend.”

Partly, she didn’t regret it. Lee Minseo’s presence had kept many suitors away.

Information Lee Minseo knew would be known by all Mino Soft in half a workday at the latest.

“Please don’t spill your drink.”

“It’s a night to enjoy!”

Yoo Sangah watched with amusement as Lee Minseo almost choked on her drink just after finishing her words. She patted her back to help her recover.

“Still, why did you only order a coconut lemonade?”

“You know I don’t drink.”

“Not when you’re with one of those other bastards, but now you’re with me,” she says. “What’s wrong with that? At worst, tomorrow you’ll have a selfie with your face painted with permanent marker.”

“Maybe another time.”

“Ugh. Fine. I’m not the one missing out on the luxury of being an independent adult.”

They both took sips of their respective drinks. The voices from other tables sounded louder now that they had slipped into a temporary silence.

“So, what happened?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been down for the past two months, but suddenly you look like nothing ever happened.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t mean it in a bad way, Sangah-ah. Even though you were doing your tasks as usual and keeping your usual smile, it was easy to spot the foundation and concealer you started using to hide your dark circles. But suddenly, you had a night of good sleep and came back more radiant than ever.”

“I’m not sure I look more radiant than ever.”

“Okay. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, since when you arrived you looked like a lost bunny, but a very hardworking one, but you get the point.”

“Yes, I get it…”

“So?”

She sighed.

“Nothing you need to worry about, just a small altercation with my family, but I already managed to solve it.”

“Your mother is being controlling?”

“No, she knows that doesn’t work with me anymore. It was a different kind of problem, but I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Do you need help?”

“No.”

Lee Minseo stared at Yoo Sangah.

“Alright, suit yourself,” she says. “But at least tell me about your boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, Sangah-ah. You’re not good at hiding your phone messages, and even if you’re careful not to leave it in others’ sight, you won’t outsmart me for another decade. How do you think I found out about the scandal in the management area?”

“…”

“You don’t deny it, so I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be...?”

“Did you think I invaded your privacy that much? Actually, it was just a suspicion because lately you look at your phone with quite a bit of excitement. But you just confirmed it to me.” Lee Minseo takes a bite of her food. “When you have information, it’s impossible to break your composure, but when you don’t, you’re very fragile, Sangah-ah.”

“Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“So, who is it? I’ll start by ruling out the idiot Han Myungoh, so that leaves the whole company minus one as possible options.”

“There are plenty to choose from…”

She nodded, taking a thoughtful pose.

“Is it someone from our department? No, obviously not. You wouldn’t chat so much if it was, and besides, whenever you’re chatting I don’t see anyone on their phone and everyone’s minding their own business. That rules out a dozen.” She says, and Sangah could almost see the detective suit. “Is it Manager Kang? Maybe someone from quality control? What was this guy’s name? Hmm. Ah! Is it Deputy Yoon?”

Sangah took a bite of her food.

“Good luck figuring it out, Minseo-ya.”

“Give me a hint.”

She shook her head.

“What’s the fun in a riddle if you don’t solve it yourself?”

“You’re mean, Sangah-ah.”

“Not as much as you.”

Lee Minseo laughed heartily.

“You’ll have to work hard if you want to beat me.”

“I know, I know.”

Kim Dokja prepared dinner alone in his apartment. He had no plans, so all he could do was cook some meat and two fried eggs to get through the night. The kitchen light illuminated the yolks in the pan.

The sound of the oil hissed quietly as he finished the new chapter of TWSA, left his usual supportive message for the author, and moved to YouTube to watch videos. Although he found nothing particularly interesting and the only channels he subscribed to were music-related, he often lost whole hours on the app.

“Damn it.” Kim Dokja grunted as a drop of water from his damp hair fell on the screen. He grabbed a napkin and wiped it off. “Taking two showers a day isn’t bad, but at this rate, I’m going to ruin the battery.”

And there was a big difference between eating well and going into debt for another smartphone. Where could he work? He was starting to feel tired of hopping from job to job in offices where they tried to exploit him as much as they could.

There’s a saying: ‘It’s easier to carry a pencil than a sack,’ and although that was undeniably true, Kim Dokja thought it wasn’t very comforting.

Would he live his whole life as an office worker? It’s not like he wanted to go back to the military front or work as a laborer, but maybe there was a better job offer for a guy like him?

‘Perseverance pays off,’ as they say.

“… The problem is the pay.”

Kim Dokja mixed the egg yolk with the meat, cut it, and then tasted it. With every bite, he took a sip of the elixir of the gods.

“I’m surprised the MOEL still lets these jobs exist. How could anyone survive on a salary that’s not even minimum wage? It even makes me feel lucky.”

In a ‘romantic’ story, a time like this would be crossed out and marked as a sad lonely period when a ‘loving’ couple couldn’t be together.

But the truth is that every individual needs time—for themselves and for others. Although Kim Dokja considered Yoo Sangah a woman who had shown him new and unique colors, he wouldn’t call her indispensable in his current lifestyle.

Kim Dokja hummed while looking for job offers. After a few minutes, the plate on the table was empty and he just focused on finding something good to watch.

“2 million net... 2.2 million... Wow, this one is 2.3 million, but I don’t have a degree for this… Hmm?” Kim Dokja’s eyes widened. “A 4 million salary in an area like this and at this position? … Only basic education? What kind of pyramid scheme is this?”

Kim Dokja started reading the details.

“It’s well-written and the information seems reliable, I guess it’s because of the risks and the tasks involved. The healthcare is good and quality.” Kim Dokja slowly rubbed his arm. “I’m going to need a lot of vaccines… but it wouldn’t be bad to aim for something like this.”

Who knows, maybe he could even find some satisfaction. Although he enjoyed his vacations, he had started feeling anxious lately.

He wondered if that was why.

Yoo Sangah collapsed onto her bed after a refreshing hot bubble bath; her tense, aching body found comfort in the bath and in being wrapped now in her soft pink pajamas.

She looked at her phone and after a brief exchange of messages with Lee Minseo about whether they both got home safe and sound, she wished her good night.

Then she switched to another chat.

Kim Dokja.

She slowly read the last messages; a brief morning greeting between them asking how each other had woken up.

How should she start? Hmm. She would do it the same way she always did.

• Me: Good evening, Dokja-ssi
• Me: How was your day? Mine was full of paperwork and eye pain 😩

A few seconds passed while she looked at Kim Dokja’s profile picture… or rather, where it should be. Kim Dokja didn’t have a profile picture.

• Dokja-ssi: Too much work? I’d recommend using moisturizing eye drops.

• Me: Yes. There’s too much paperwork ☹️

She added to the message a sticker of a raccoon lying on the ground.

• Dokja-ssi: At least you don’t have to train someone.

• Dokja-ssi: You need two bottles of water when they’re fresh graduates.

• Dokja-ssi: It’s not their fault since they’re just starting, but still, they can be very exasperating.

• Me: Have you ever given trainings? 🤔

• Dokja-ssi: Only twice, and one of those as an assistant.

• Dokja-ssi: However, the only time I had to do it myself it took me about two hours of work and my lunch break to make myself understood.

• Dokja-ssi: What about you, Sangah-ssi?

• Me: I’m sure you know I’ve had to be in many 🙄

• Me: So, I’ll tell you the story of one of the most exasperating ones.

• Dokja-ssi: I’m all ears.

• Dokja-ssi: Or should I say all eyes?

She laughed.

The story was simple.

Once, Yoo Sangah had been assigned a group of new graduates and had to instruct them on legislative topics directly related to the company. At first, everything went well, most of them paid attention and asked occasional questions as tests.

Yoo Sangah answered gladly.

However, among these graduates there was a considerably younger guy who never said anything, simply nodded silently and kept to the side. At the end of the briefing, when she was answering each one’s questions personally, the guy made a move.

• Me: He asked if I wanted to go out with him 😳

• Me: He made it very clear that I caught his attention and he wanted a date with me.

• Dokja-ssi: Oh, how daring.

• Dokja-ssi: Did you reject him?

• Me: Obviously, I barely knew his name and he was too young for me.

• Me: Besides, I was very upset that day 😠

• Dokja-ssi: Did you tell him off?

• Me: … Yes.

• Dokja-ssi: Is he still at the company?

• Me: I have no idea.

• Me: I never saw him again.

Talking with Kim Dokja was somehow relieving. The fact that she could talk to someone who didn’t know much about her gave her a lot of freedom when communicating. Also, Kim Dokja was a very good listener, so she felt very comfortable.

The first few days chatting were a bit awkward, but when she set her mind to it, she managed to keep Kim Dokja engaged in the conversation for a long time.

• Dokja-ssi: It’s good, it would be very awkward to see him again.

• Me: Too much 😅

• Me: But leaving that aside,

• Me: How was your day?

• Dokja-ssi: Fine, nothing out of the ordinary.

• Dokja-ssi: I spent most of it watching my phone.

• Me: That’s not healthy 🤨

• Dokja-ssi: I don’t have much to do anyway.

• Dokja-ssi: I was watching videos, reading, and then I looked for job openings.

• Me: Are you excited to go back to work?

• Dokja-ssi: No.

• Dokja-ssi: But I have to find one fast.

• Dokja-ssi: I found a good job offer.

Normally, Yoo Sangah would have asked about the job offer, but something else caught her attention.

• Me: What do you like to read? 📚

However, somehow the conversation partially died there. Yoo Sangah saw several times on the phone screen how Kim Dokja was typing something, then stopping… then “continuing” and stopping shortly after.

This cycle repeated about seven times.

• Me: Is something wrong?

• Dokja-ssi: No.

• Dokja-ssi: Nothing is wrong.

• Dokja-ssi: But I’d like to know what kind of books you read.

The message was somewhat predictable, and although Yoo Sangah was not with Kim Dokja, it was easy to guess what he was thinking at that moment.

‘How do I avoid maximum embarrassment?’

That’s what Kim Dokja must have been thinking. Yoo Sangah smiled amused. She was someone who read everything; novels, short stories, and countless pages had passed in physical books and screen swipes. She had favorite authors and genres that suited her tastes.

However, what kind of works would someone like Kim Dokja like?

She didn’t take long to think of the answer.

• Me: I asked first 😉

• Dokja-ssi: Yes, but I’d like to know what kind of works you like.

It was obvious Kim Dokja was avoiding the topic. She found it funny that such an introverted man was so openly bold.

• Me: Do you like web novels?

It was like she had made a checkmate, because Kim Dokja didn’t respond until a minute later.

• Dokja-ssi: I usually read some.

He could be more honest.

Yoo Sangah’s eyelids started to feel heavy.

She imagined the black-haired man struggling with how not to die socially with her.

• Me: What novels have you read?

Kim Dokja didn’t take long to respond.

Yoo Sangah rubbed her eyes.

• Dokja-ssi: I’ve been reading ‘The World After the Fall’.

• Me: I understand it’s a very well-known novel.

• Me: Would you recommend it to me? I haven’t had much time to read and haven’t found anything interesting.

• Dokja-ssi: I suppose, I think it is—

That’s the last thing Yoo Sangah managed to read before falling into Morpheus’ arms.

• Me: I suppose, I think it’s a good novel.

• Me: Although its beginning is cliché, it gets entertaining the more you read.

• Yoo Sangah: JEhejHAjduab

• Me: ? Sangah-ssi?

She didn’t reply, and although Kim Dokja could see her profile was online, she didn’t send any coherent response. Kim Dokja had just brushed his teeth before covering himself in bed.

“Did she fall asleep? She must be very exhausted.”

Kim Dokja waited a few minutes and when Yoo Sangah’s profile showed ‘offline’, he thought his theory was correct. Imagining Yoo Sangah falling asleep from exhaustion was funny.

• Me: Good night.

He knew she wouldn’t read it, but it didn’t hurt to leave that message. Kim Dokja left his phone connected to the charger to charge overnight and after turning off the lights, closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Survival Guide in a Fake Marriage – Tip 5

Yoo Sangah has a high alcohol tolerance.

It’s not a natural resistance. Yoo Sangah doesn’t come from a family of drinkers.

It’s something she developed over the years since the start of university. Yoo Sangah isn’t sure when it began; whether it was at one of the “wild parties” her classmates used to throw, or when she started realizing the disadvantages of her beauty.

At present, her tolerance was so high she could drink four bottles of soju, start on a fifth, and still feel completely sober. She had lived long enough to know that while the world is full of beautiful colors that make her feel glad to be alive, it’s also painted in shades that cloud the skies and watch her every step.

Yoo Sangah enjoys her life. Generally speaking, Yoo Sangah is someone who takes joy in her accomplishments.

She’s never lacked money; she doesn’t live lavishly, but she lives quite well. Occasionally, she can afford an extended vacation or a gourmet meal.

Her upbringing was strict, but bearable. Fortunately, once she reached adulthood, she was able to become independent and live off her own salary.

The silence of her apartment was something comforting; she would always have a bed to come home to and leftovers to reheat in the microwave she had already finished paying off.

She went out drinking quite often.

Sometimes alone, sometimes with coworkers, sometimes with Lee Minseo, sometimes for work-related purposes…

On all those occasions, she never got drunk. Many times, she had to make an extraordinary effort to hide her disgust when men from the company were disappointed that alcohol barely affected her.

She got used to it, and eventually she kept to her own world during most gatherings.

The only times she drank “willingly” were either alone or with Lee Minseo, who barely made it past one bottle of soju before she started speaking nonsense.

To Lee Minseo, Yoo Sangah is a woman who “doesn’t drink,” though both of them know that’s not the right term for Yoo Sangah.

She is a woman who “only drinks when she wants to and when she can,” both requirements being very difficult to fulfill.

The night before, when she had gone out for dinner with Lee Minseo, she could have, but didn’t want to. Not for any particular reason—she just wasn’t in the mood.

The next day was a workday, and she wanted to avoid having to take a hangover pill.

Medicine is made to cure certain ailments, but the human body should never develop a dependency on any kind of drug.

Yoo Sangah, though she had never thought of studying a health-related career, had researched enough to know that fact.

It’s okay to enjoy certain things, but it’s never good to take it to the extreme.

But back to the point… Yoo Sangah hadn’t expected to feel like she had downed two dozen bottles of soju when she woke up.

She woke to the sound of her alarm, eyelids stuck together and an indescribable drowsiness.

She sat on her bed with slow movements.

The fact that her apartment was climate-controlled spared her from feeling tortured every morning; she had to pay a small extra fee, but it was something she could afford.

However, not being able to properly organize her most recent memories made her feel like she had the worst kind of hangover.

She rubbed her forehead and looked for her phone.

“Ugh…”

The brightness of the screen made her squint.

“What happened?”

She remembered going out to eat with Lee Minseo, coming back to the apartment, and getting ready for bed.

Then, she had started chatting with Kim Dokja.

“… How embarrassing.”

She looked at the chat and how it had ended abruptly.

She sighed as she stared at the mess of scribbles she had sent and Kim Dokja’s “Good night.”

If that had happened with Lee Minseo, she’d have to live in shame for the rest of the year.

Prim and proper Yoo Sangah, defeated by sleep? Oh, what a treat.

Thankfully, it had happened with Kim Dokja; someone she had exchanged glances with during a few company outings to a budget restaurant, and who usually ordered a glass of iced water and the cheapest item on the menu.

Kim Dokja usually slipped out of the gathering the moment he finished his meal, and almost no one noticed his absence.

Almost no one, of course, because Yoo Sangah did notice.

Sometimes she envied how easily Kim Dokja went unnoticed.

“I need a shower.”

Though she never understood why, whenever she fell asleep “unconsciously,” she always woke up as if she had just walked out of a sauna. Mysteries of the human body.

But this was nothing a long shower and the combined work of her shampoo and soap couldn’t fix.

Though Yoo Sangah didn’t consider herself a vain woman, she wouldn’t deny that the few cosmetics and occasional makeup items she used were expensive.

She had bought them from a fashion magazine she read while waiting for her turn at the dentist.

To clarify, Yoo Sangah didn’t buy these things to stand out. In fact, it was the opposite.

She bought a good shampoo, with a unique scent, for the shampoo’s properties she had read about.

She had a soap from a well-known cosmetics brand, pink and shaped like a bear, because it guaranteed good skin care.

She didn’t want to look pretty—she wanted her next medical check-up to last no more than fifteen minutes and to hear the doctor say he was glad she took such good care of her body.

She wanted to reach old age with as few ailments as possible, thank you very much.

“Tum-tum.”

She hummed a pleasant tune once she was dressed and had her hair wrapped in a towel to dry.

“It needs a bit more salt.”

A fact a doctor had told her once during a consultation after a random mishap in her teenage years was that it was important to eat salt, since hypertension was more common in people who consumed too little salt than in those who consumed optimal—or even excessive—amounts.

Somewhat ironic. Yoo Sangah, who had always avoided adding that seasoning to her meals outside of what was naturally present, started buying more salt than any other condiment.

She had plenty of pepper, and a pepper grinder with a nice design, but nothing compared to the bags of salt stored in the last cabinet of her kitchen.

Of course, she never overdid it either.

• Me: Good morning, Dokja-ssi

• Me: I wanted to wish you a nice day

• Me: And if you’re already awake, how’s your morning?

She also sent him a Flork sticker with its arms stretched out holding a sun.

She wouldn’t apologize for last night either—it would be an unnecessary redundancy.

The best she could do was simply leave it in the past and carry on with her present.

She doubted Kim Dokja cared.

Besides, she doubted he was even awake. Considering his severance pay would cover a few weeks of rest until he found another job, he should still be asleep.

She’d do the same if she were in his position.

Yoo Sangah began eating her breakfast: toast, an avocado she’d managed to find at a good price after a hellish search through the market’s freezers, and pure black coffee.

Ah, another fact: did you know that drinking non-instant coffee, without sugar or milk, was good for preventing different types of cancer?

She always knew coffee was a gift from the world. The bad part was the excess sugar!

A few seconds passed while she watched animal videos on YouTube. Some funny, some curious, and the occasional sad one. There were also a few made with artificial intelligence… those were the most curious.

No one should ever find out she tried to recreate the song… never.

Until…

• Dokja-ssi: Good morning

• Dokja-ssi: It’s been a pleasant morning

… Kim Dokja replied, against her expectations.

• Dokja-ssi: But I’ll message you later, Sangah-ssi

Oh? Kim Dokja being curt. That was unexpected.

• Dokja-ssi: I’m at a job interview, and it’s my turn now

… Well, that was… odd.

“We’ll email your personal address in about a week with a response,” the man behind the desk said. “I can’t promise anything, but it was definitely a pleasure speaking with you, Kim Dokja-ssi.”

The internet is a vast place—so vast that all of Kim Dokja’s profiles across the platforms where he had created accounts amounted to barely a thousandth of a drop in the infinite ocean that kept expanding at the same rate as the universe.

The same went for that “story.” Kim Dokja was grateful that this man didn’t seem to know anything about him.

He was also very thankful that all he had needed to do was fill out a form the night before and bring copies of a few documents. This wasn’t a very formal job, so the recruitment process had been quick.

The first part of the interview being a check of his educational background and records only sped things up further.

Fortunately, Kim Dokja had never gotten into any trouble that would stain his résumé—just the occasional scolding from a teacher when he skipped class.

“Likewise, I’ll be on the lookout for your response.”

Kim Dokja left the office with his heart pounding. The white walls and the voice of the guard at the door calling in the next participant were barely notable details.

Kim Dokja took a deep breath before stepping out of the building.

A very different kind of breath than what he was used to.

Mino Soft had always been a video game company that squeezed every last drop out of its consumers. Their downsizing practices and cost-cutting in workspaces—including their headquarters—were proof enough.

The clearest example was when they promised a “reward” upon reaching a certain number of subscribers, donations, or whatever goal they promoted during an official stream. They rarely followed through, as the goal chart was tweaked to make it impossible to achieve any of the company’s promises.

Poor fools.

“Finally, I can take this tie off,” he grumbled, loosening the knot around his neck. “Let’s hope learning to tie this thing properly was worth it.”

He had learned how to tie a formal, elegant knot that morning thanks to a YouTube tutorial.

But putting that aside—

“I forgot how big industrial companies are.”

Kim Dokja let the tension and anxiety drain from his body; his shoulders slowly fell back into their usual position—lazy and relaxed.

Even though he wasn’t expecting much, he had tried to be as professional, polite, and articulate as possible.

He hadn’t even had breakfast, and now it was too late for that.

“I need something quick.”

A month ago, Kim Dokja would have never expected to be doing what he was doing now.

“I’ll bring your order in a few minutes.”

He hadn’t expected to be engaged—albeit falsely—to Yoo Sangah. Nor could he have imagined himself job hunting willingly.

Kim Dokja had always worked short-term contract jobs, and in every interview he felt like he was about to fall off his chair, no matter how kind the interviewer was.

This had been the first interview where Kim Dokja tried to present himself as a decent member of society, the first interview where he genuinely wanted the job.

Not just for financial reasons.

Though he wasn’t entirely sure why, there was a subtle feeling of need beneath the flood of emotions he had been experiencing.

He wasn’t sure where the sensation came from—it was just there.

“I won’t think too hard about it.”

He slowly sipped his coffee and eagerly devoured the sandwich he had ordered.

This too was another notable change in his lifestyle… Kim Dokja had never imagined himself eating well.

In past instances when he had received severance pay, he never thought about buying food. As a rule, Kim Dokja used that money on things… that didn’t last; online purchases for a mobile game that caught his eye for a week, or coins to get early access to new chapters of a webcomic he stumbled upon.

On rare occasions, he paid to read early chapters of some random novel…

‘If TWSA had been behind a paywall, I’d be broke.’

That was an amusing thought. Kim Dokja glanced at his phone screen for a moment before stepping out of the place.

His steps were slow as he continued toward his destination… his destination.

However, the most drastic change in his life was a “habit” he had picked up after getting fired.

Kim Dokja rubbed his forearms—specifically, his biceps.

There was slight growth… or did this count as toning? Those thoughts circled in his mind as he crossed the streets. Thankfully, the interview location was close to that place.

Eventually, Kim Dokja arrived. The door opened as he approached.

“For someone who’s been so strict with his schedule, it’s weird to see you show up late. Did something happen? Also, why are you dressed like that?”

A man with short black hair asked from the front desk. He was young—younger than Kim Dokja himself.

Just an ordinary receptionist.

The scent of cleaning fluid filled his nostrils, and his ears picked up snippets of random conversations between other people. Kim Dokja shrugged.

“Interview.”

“Oh… How did it go?”

“I think it went well. I just hope the rejection isn’t too harsh.”

“Let’s hope you get the job. You still have to pay your monthly fee.”

Kim Dokja gave an ironic smile. “Yeah, let’s hope so.”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I do respect the dedication you’ve put into this, especially considering your build—but rules are rules, and my contract says I have to charge you. The boss is nice to you, but don’t push your luck too far. Also, hurry up. He’s been waiting for you.”

“Ahh. I know.”

And yes, against all odds and as a sign of the end times, a prelude to the apocalypse, the arrival of angels, and the first omen of the greatest catastrophe humanity would face in the past, present, and future—he had started going to the gym.

“So, are you planning to do your routine in that outfit?”

“I left a change of clothes in a locker yesterday.”

“…I’m a little concerned by how much faith you put in our security cameras.”

Yoo Sangah was out shopping. After leaving work, she took the subway and headed to a nearby store. Her shopping cart wasn’t particularly full, but it wasn’t empty either.

She had filled it with some vegetables, a bottle of oil, some fruit, two boxes of cereal, and a few cleaning products.

She would have preferred to do this on Saturday, but she already had plans for that day and didn’t intend to shift her schedule. Order is important for a good life. There are exceptions, of course—but not for this Saturday.

There couldn’t be.

Yoo Sangah had been planning this Saturday ever since Kim Dokja agreed to be her husband, and she wasn’t about to ruin her perfectly structured plan that… she hadn’t actually structured. She could say it was going to be relatively spontaneous—she hadn’t even figured out how to convince Kim Dokja to come over yet.

But Yoo Sangah would find a way. This wasn’t the first time she had faced something unexpected—she still remembered how she had to do a month-long project in a single night during her penultimate year at university. She passed the subject with the minimum grade, but she passed! She didn’t fall behind and fulfilled her academic schedule to the letter.

She smiled faintly. Even if those weren’t the most memorable times, they were still good. She didn’t have to worry about anything besides her grades. Although her parents had initially been disappointed in the degree she chose, they still paid for her studies just as they did for her siblings, so she never had to worry about student loans.

“Hm? Oh, what a surprise to run into you here, Yoo Sangah-ssi.”

Yoo Sangah looked over her shoulder when a male voice called out to her.

A voice not as unpleasant as Han Myungoh’s, nor as warm as Kim Dokja’s.

A voice she wasn’t exactly familiar with, but one she could put a face to.

“Deputy Yoon.”

A man with short black hair, likely a year or two older than her, and just about Kim Dokja’s height, approached with a shopping basket in hand. Yoo Sangah sighed mentally—this was the last thing she wanted. She just wanted to get home, prepare a light dinner, maybe chat with Lee Minseo or Kim Dokja, and go to bed.

Talking to Deputy Yoon wasn’t on her to-do list—nor had it ever been part of any imagined scenario. It wasn’t like she particularly liked the guy either.

Even if he wasn’t as shameless as Han Myungoh or Manager Kang, Deputy Yoon wasn’t much different from them.

“There’s no need to be so formal with me, Sangah-ssi,” he said pleasantly, but Yoo Sangah could barely detect a drop of genuine warmth in his voice. “We may not talk much, but we’re still coworkers, aren’t we?”

At best, they had had four vaguely decent conversations. Yoo Sangah had no idea how this man could say something like that with such confidence. What went through his head? Did he think this was a manga or something?

“Uhm. I don’t feel comfortable enough to speak informally with Deputy Yoon.”

“Really? That’s a shame. I thought we were a little closer than that.”

He didn’t look disappointed in the slightest. Yoo Sangah wished Lee Minseo were here to chase this man off quickly. That woman would’ve threatened him with a bag of prepackaged chips the moment he opened his mouth.

Lee Minseo could sometimes be a loyal dog in the skin of a vicious hyena.

“So, what brings you here?” he asked.

“I needed to pick up a few things,” she answered curtly.

“Snacks, I see.”

Was he even looking at her cart?

“Yeah. Something like that. But actually, I just needed milk and some meat. Maybe some fish, though I have a preferred shop for that.”

The faster she moved the conversation along, the more uncomfortable Deputy Yoon would get, and the sooner he would leave her alone.

Or so she thought.

Sometimes it baffled her how someone could be so shameless.

“What a coincidence, I was just looking for some cheese and fish. Mind if I tag along?”

She gripped the cart’s handle tightly and sighed inwardly once again. At this rate, she’d develop a hernia.

“Of course not.”

That’s what she said, but the short trip was mostly silent. Deputy Yoon asked the occasional question, but Yoo Sangah gave answers so vague they could barely be called answers.

“Need help with the cart, Sangah-ssi?”

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

She wondered if her overly polite demeanor had made him think she would never be blunt. Maybe she should adjust that part of her personality.

“What do you think about this fish, Sangah-ssi?”

“I can’t really say, Deputy Yoon. I don’t usually buy fish here,” she replied while checking the expiration dates on the milk cartons.

“I think it’s a rip-off. I can get better and cheaper fish at the store next to my place.”

“That’s great.”

Yoo Sangah skimmed through some refrigerated snacks; since she was already there, she figured she might as well pick up a few cold treats.

‘Greek yogurt...’

A fairly normal thought for her current narrative situation.

However, what made her think of it specifically wasn’t the fact that she was looking at Greek yogurt. No, it was that a larger, paler hand than hers was holding a small container of Greek yogurt.

A hand she could recognize very well. Even though the owner of that hand had his back to her, it was easy to tell. There were a few small differences in the physique she was used to seeing, but he was still recognizable.

‘… Since when does Dokja-ssi have such broad shoulders?’

[Yoo Sangah had always compared the image of Kim Dokja to that of a spaghetti noodle.]

[Yoo Sangah found it strange that, with tighter clothes, Kim Dokja didn’t look at all like a spaghetti noodle.]

[Well, if you ignored his waist, anyway.]

Even with messy hair, flushed cheeks, and shiny skin, it was unmistakably her fake fiancé, Kim Dokja. It was strange to see him wearing a black sports set, which included a sports jacket that was slightly too small and a white shirt that was larger than the jacket, but she felt relieved to see him.

His irreplaceable headphones were with him as well. Yoo Sangah wondered where he had bought them—hers rarely lasted long.

“Do you know him, Sangah-ssi?”

Oh, she had almost forgotten about this little nuisance beside her. The only redeeming part of this encounter was realizing that Kim Dokja was slightly taller than Deputy Yoon.

Well, considering that Yoo Sangah is a tall woman and Kim Dokja is half a head taller than her, that would place Kim Dokja slightly above average height.

“That’s Dokja-ssi.”

The response came almost instinctively. Talking about Kim Dokja in her head was easy. Understanding what kind of person he was and how he thought came naturally, and Yoo Sangah would sometimes spend a few minutes theorizing how he might act in certain situations.

Most ended in embarrassing scenarios.

“Dokja? Oh, wait, Kim Dokja? Yeah, I remember him. Sometimes I used to have coffee with him on the company rooftop.”

Well, at least someone had bothered to treat Kim Dokja like a normal person. That earned Deputy Yoon a few points. Still, it wasn’t enough to move him out of the negative column.

“He’s changed a little… though he still looks mostly the same.” He said with disinterest, as if Kim Dokja were hardly notable to either of them.

‘He probably thinks Kim Dokja isn’t memorable at all.’

She smiled inwardly. A perfect opportunity.

Even if it meant the stars of the cosmos had aligned for this exact moment and she’d wake up tomorrow morning to see a comet crashing into Seoul with her apartment as ground zero, Yoo Sangah wasn’t going to miss this chance.

Especially considering that Kim Dokja rarely listened to music at less than half volume, and the fact that he was actually paying attention to his surroundings instead of being buried in his phone.

“Dokja-ssi!”.

Kim Dokja had fallen asleep after lunch.

He woke up with his phone burning hot, the pillow drooled on, his body disgustingly sweaty, and absolutely parched.

He drank a glass of cold water before heading out to get something for dinner.

He had some chicken, but had decided to save it for breakfast tomorrow.

Besides, his stomach felt particularly full, so he planned to find something light to get through the night without too much discomfort.

Ugh, maybe he should’ve showered before leaving.

He hadn’t taken his second shower.

“Dokja-ssi!”

Kim Dokja looked for the source of the voice with his eyes half-open.

It was a voice he would recognize easily in the middle of a bombing or even a nuclear holocaust.

Yoo Sangah was pushing a shopping cart; unlike her usual office attire, she was just wearing a long skirt and a white long-sleeved shirt.

And even though it was different clothing—either equally or even more modest than her usual outfits—she still looked beautiful.

… Was that Deputy Yoon? What was that guy—

[There was an unpleasant feeling.]

[He didn’t know where it came from, and wasn’t sure what it was.]

[But Kim Dokja didn’t feel comfortable with Deputy Yoon’s presence.]

[It didn’t matter if Deputy Yoon was one of the few who ever patted him on the back and offered kind words—he didn’t like seeing him here.]

“I’m so happy to see you,” Yoo Sangah interrupted that line of thought. “I didn’t know you liked Greek yogurt.”

Kim Dokja returned to his usual mode.

“It’s something someone recommended.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Apparently, it’s a good source of protein and calcium, and helps with muscle recovery.”

She scanned him for a moment.

“Wait, are you…?”

Kim Dokja felt a bit embarrassed.

“Uh. Yeah. I thought I might as well make use of my time.”

She smiled.

“That’s good. If I had time, I’d definitely go too.”

“Well, my monthly membership lets me bring a guest a few times each month. You could come with me sometime when you’re free, Sangah-ssi.”

Kim Dokja wasn’t sure where on earth he found the courage to make that suggestion.

Yoo Sangah’s expression shifted through three different stages he couldn’t quite define.

“I’ll take your word on that. How about Sunday?”

“Sure. I’m free for at least the next two weeks.”

“Only two weeks?” she murmured, then brightened as she remembered something. “Right, how did your interview go? You didn’t reply to my messages and didn’t write me either.”

“I’m sorry. I slept the whole afternoon and only woke up about half an hour ago.” He sniffed his own shirt. “I probably should’ve taken a shower before coming out.”

“Don’t worry about that. You don’t smell bad.”

“Is that just to make me feel better? Because if so, it just makes me feel worse.”

“I mean it. You don’t smell bad. You don’t even smell like anything,” she replied, amused.

Kim Dokja made a small sound of acknowledgment.
He still didn’t really understand how Yoo Sangah found him amusing.

But… everything about this woman was unique.
Were her tastes unique too? Probably.

“By the way, are you free this Saturday?”

Kim Dokja gave Yoo Sangah a flat, expressionless look. She laughed.

“Would you like to have lunch at my place?”

TWSA could overwrite reality and Kim Dokja would look less surprised.

Actually meeting Yoo Joonghyuk and his entire crew in person would make him less unsettled.

Honestly, even meeting constellations like the “Father of the Rich Night” in person would make him less nervous.

“Eh?” He blinked like an owl. “Dinner?”

“Yeah, I bought some crab and it’s my first time preparing it,” she said. “And I’d like you to be my judge.”

Kim Dokja wasn’t someone who ate seafood.
Because of how expensive it was, it wasn’t something he could afford even at a cheap market, let alone a restaurant where one lemonade would wipe out an entire week’s budget.

Not that he’d never tried any; he’d had shrimp a few times, but never anything particularly great.

Not even after following an in-depth YouTube tutorial on how to properly cook shrimp had he been able to make it taste good.

“I don’t have much of a palate… I barely add salt to my rice.”

“Even better, then. That means your taste buds will be completely neutral.”

Kim Dokja let out an ironic laugh.

He glanced over Yoo Sangah’s shoulder… Hm? Where did Deputy Yoon go?

Oh well, it didn’t matter. Better for him.

“If you’re fine with that, I don’t mind,” he said.

“Is there anything you prefer? I was planning to make a few light side dishes so the crab doesn’t feel too heavy. It tastes good, but I understand it’s not exactly easy to digest.”

Kim Dokja thought for a moment.

“No, I don’t—” He paused briefly, remembering something.

Yoo Sangah tilted her head as Kim Dokja’s eyes suddenly lost focus for a moment.

Kim Dokja had very dark eyes, but somehow the usual “clear night sky” she was used to seeing had turned into a “deep abyss.”

Thankfully, it didn’t last long.

“I don’t like tomatoes. Other than that, I don’t really have any preferences.”

Though his tone was quick and slightly awkward, Yoo Sangah didn’t push. If anything, she tried to steer the conversation into a lighter path.

“Noted.” And something else. “By the way, have you had dinner yet?”

“Are you planning to put me in debt with all these meals?”

“Are you planning to let me pay?”

Kim Dokja shrugged. “I don’t have anything better to spend my money on.”

That was a rare choice of words.

But quite expressive.

Paying for separate shopping trips had been a unique experience.

Kalguksu. Even though it wasn’t a cold day, it was a reliable way to soothe hunger at street food stalls scattered across Seoul.

If you had told her just a few months ago that she’d be eating noodles with Kim Dokja after going grocery shopping, she would have wondered what she’d done to get so close to such an antisocial man.

“...”

“Slurp slurp slurp.”

“...”

“Slurp slurp.”

“...”

“Slurp.”

“...”

“Sl-.”

Kim Dokja swallowed his noodles as quietly as he could.

“You’re not bothering me, Dokja-ssi.”

“...Sorry.”

Kim Dokja was supposed to be a grown man—someone who had been through many stages of life and, as a result, knew full well the reality of the world and its ugliness.

So how could he look so innocently embarrassed?

It was a miracle he didn’t have a fever.

Hmm. What would a sick Kim Dokja look like? Yoo Sangah had never seen him with more than a face mask during flu season.

Kim Dokja scratched the back of his neck and said, “I didn’t expect it to be this hot.”

She swallowed a bit of her noodles.

“Don’t eat like we’re in a rush.”

“It’s getting kind of late...”

She understood the unspoken meaning.

“You’re with me, Dokja-ssi. I’m entrusting you with my safety.”

“I’m pretty sure a pocket knife could shatter that trust.”

“We’ve got shopping bags to stall them.” She took another sip of broth. “We’ll be fine.”

Kim Dokja nodded and quietly paid for the meal.

Yoo Sangah didn’t even bother trying to cover her share—she’d already accepted this scenario a while ago. Besides, the crab sitting in her freezer would more than pay off her debt.

It was quality crab, after all.

They both stood up from their seats.

And although Yoo Sangah didn’t ask, Kim Dokja quickly picked up all the bags and started walking after her.

Come to think of it, if Kim Dokja had been shopping at the same place as her, did that mean they didn’t live too far apart?

Seoul was massive, and “walking distance” was a term usually reserved for neighbors. But maybe they lived seven or eight blocks from each other?

“Dokja-ssi.”

“Yes?”

“Did you… grow a little?”

Even though she had already accepted that Kim Dokja was working out, she had only just now noticed this particular change. Yoo Sangah remembered she used to easily reach up to the tip of his nose. Now, she was just about eye level with his jaw.

Kim Dokja looked over himself briefly.

“Not that I know of. The gym’s equipment didn’t say anything about a height increase either. I’m still the same.”

That was strange. Yoo Sangah was sure something didn’t add up.

...Her doubt didn’t last long once she noticed something.

“Oh...” She smiled softly.

“I guess that’s better than getting taller.”

“...I don’t get it.”

“Let’s just say… you got a mountain off your shoulders.”

“...?”

“Never mind. We’re here!”

Kim Dokja looked up, his gaze landing on an apartment complex.

So this is where Sangah-ssi lives... it looks expensive.

Not luxurious—just expensive.

Kim Dokja wasn’t a doctor and never planned to be one; that career was just too… too much for him.

Still, he’d learned that the right kind of physical stimulation could boost endorphins, testosterone, growth hormone, adrenaline, and noradrenaline. There were also some adjustments in insulin and cortisol levels, but since that was a bit more complicated, he just left it at “they regulate themselves.”

He wondered if that was what had made him feel so alive these past few days.

Weights were familiar. Dumbbells were old friends. Planks had become rest zones after muscle failure, and cardio no longer felt like the seventh gate of hell. Pull-ups were tricky, but he’d managed his first full set… and that was enough.

“Today you did great.”

Or at least, that’s what the guy beside him said.

Something ironic about the gym he’d found was that the “star” guiding others through this pain-filled path wasn’t even Korean. When you consider that Korea wasn’t exactly the most tolerant country—neither with itself nor others—that said a lot about this place. Sometimes he wondered how Korea had made it so far with all its social issues.

Seriously, what was up with teenagers getting surgery right after turning eighteen or finishing high school? While not exactly a widespread practice, it had become pretty popular lately.

Kim Dokja didn’t understand the need for such a complicated process. It’s not like he thought of himself as handsome, but when he took selfies in the bathroom back in high school, he figured he didn’t look bad for someone so average.

He thought maybe he was a little handsome.

“Thanks, coach.”

Aaron Tide: a tall, dark-skinned man with neatly trimmed hair and beard, muscular, and tall enough to completely eclipse people like Yoo Joonghyuk and that one guy called “Steel Blade.” With about a decade of life experience over Kim Dokja in this labor exploitation path called “life,” he had the right to look down on him—figuratively and literally.

And yet, despite his incredible physique, Aaron was an incredibly kind man. He had shown unmatched patience with scrawny Kim Dokja and supported him however he could without even needing to be asked.

“Just doing my job,” he said simply. “But I mean it. Your form’s gotten a lot better.”

Aaron glanced sideways at a group of guys using the chest cable machine to (somehow) train their abs.

“You can tell when someone’s here because they want to be, not just for the image.”

Kim Dokja didn’t have the heart to tell him he was just there to kill time and that guilt was the only reason he got up before dawn to come to the gym. That, and the fact that he didn’t want to waste the registration fee and first month’s payment.

“Mmhm.”

“Anyway, that’s it for today. You can head home to rest or use the lounge, up to you.”

“I need a change of clothes… and I left mine at the apartment, so I’ll just head out.”

Aaron sighed.

“If you weren’t going to take full advantage of your membership, you could’ve gone with a cheaper plan.”

“I’ve got poor time management.”

“But you’re efficient when you want to be.”

Somehow, Aaron could say those words with overwhelming honesty and still keep a straight face. Then again, from what Kim Dokja knew, the guy used to be a boxer—so he probably had a few screws loose here and there. Maybe even some mild brain damage.

(It’s worth noting that he was starting to use these complex terms because of the man in front of him. Even though tls123 had a great vocabulary, it had rarely made him learn fancy words.)

“Anyway, make sure to eat well during your three main meals and get proper sleep. No point in working yourself to death here if you don’t let your body recover.”

“You’re starting to sound like a physical therapist.”

“I’m not sure what your definition of that is, but I’ll take it as a compliment. Though remember—I’ll be a doctor, not a PT.”

“I don’t really get the difference…”

“Are an architect and a civil engineer the same thing?”

“Okay, got it.”

Kim Dokja stepped off the treadmill and threw on his jacket. He tossed his empty water bottle into the recycling bin and took a deep breath. His lungs burned and his body was at its limit, but it was a feeling he’d grown used to in the past few days—so it didn’t hurt as much anymore.

Kim Dokja’s routine always started with twenty minutes of cardio and ended the same way. The middle part changed depending on what Aaron said. But the guy knew what he was doing; even if he was one semester away from his “theory” requirement before starting his internship, he already knew just about everything there was to know about the human body.

Hell, Kim Dokja hadn’t even known there were more than fifty muscles. That explained why tls123 always described Yoo Joonghyuk’s anatomical misfortunes in such vivid detail across all his regressions. He never named them, but… some of those injuries were disturbingly specific.

Still, nothing compared to the psychological trauma. If it weren’t for Lee Seolhwa and Yoo Mia, that lunatic would’ve gone down a long time ago.

“Also, don’t forget to go out and explore your surroundings. Staring at your phone all day might end up hurting your vision. A pair of glasses wouldn’t look bad on you, but hopefully your prescription only calls for blue-light filters.”

“No. Definitely don’t want glasses.”

“If you keep your eyes glued to that device, something might eventually happen. Just a warning. Coming here will help with a lot of things in the future—but not everything.”

“I can see just fine, and no one in my family has a history of myopia or astigmatism. At least, not that I know of.”

The last part was nearly a whisper.