Chapter Text
Relatively speaking, Kim Dokja’s “birth” was anticlimactic.
His first memory was opening his eyes to a plain white ceiling, slowly gaining consciousness while laying on the hard smooth frigid surface of a conference table. Overcoming the first spell of dizziness that washes over him, he slowly climbs off the table. Takes a look at his surroundings.
He’s alone. A strange voice that originates from a two-way radio asks Kim Dokja if he would like to take a brief survey.
For some reason, Kim Dokja feels compelled to not ask questions. In a subdued voice, Kim Dokja responds, “Sure,” while taking a seat in the office chair across from the radio transmitter.
He complies with the voice’s interrogative questions—unable to answer what his name was, unable to answer his place of birth, answering “Seoul” when asked to name any city that comes to mind, and finally, unable to answer any questions pertaining to his mother.
He’s strangely calm by the end of it. Kim Dokja, who quickly comes to terms with the fact that he is an empty slate of memories, sits down in his seat with a placated mind and an unwarranted patience as the voice tells him that he’s passed the “test”.
“You seem to be taking this well,” the voice on the other end of the radio speaks with a tinge of surprise mixed in. “You’re not concerned in the slightest? You don’t have any questions for me?”
Kim Dokja thinks, and thinks, but there’s not much to ponder about. It’s like there’s something deep inside him that’s suppressing any strong emotion to the point where he can’t muster them even if he wanted to. He just stares at the radio with unblinking eyes, accepting that he’s an empty shell of a man. Maybe it’s better this way.
“…No,” Kim Dokja answers with a neutral expression. His hand feels empty. His eyes wander down to his neatly ironed slacks, running a hand over the smooth material.
The door clicks open.
On the other hand, Jung Heewon’s “birth” is anything but anticlimactic.
“P—please calm down,” Kim Dokja, flustered red with panic, stutters clumsily into the microphone. He watches the video camera helplessly as Jung Heewon grabs the legs of an office chair and attempts to slam it against the locked door of the room she’s trapped in. Jung Heewon doesn’t heed his meek pleas to stop.
“Let me out!” Jung Heewon yells, banging on the door with her fist and an enraged expression. “I said open the door, you goddamn bastards! Or else I’ll call the fucking cops!”
She won’t be able to, not without access to a phone. It’s not like this is illegal—Outie Jung Heewon, as most of them had coined their outside persona halves, has fully consented to the procedure in a contract. It’s useless trying to fight back. Kim Dokja learned that from day one of being brought into existence.
“You can’t,” Kim Dokja says into the microphone, resisting the strong urge to take cover under the desk, curl up in a ball, and cower. “S-Shall we continue with the survey, then?”
“To hell with your damn survey!” Jung Heewon says like she’s spitting out fire. Kim Dokja flinches at her harsh tone, nervous hands fumbling to flip through the instruction manual in his hands. A dread settles in his heart at his own incompetency.
As Kim Dokja had suspected, Yoo Sangah should’ve been made team leader instead of him. Why did the higher ups decide that he should be the one to be promoted when Bihyung had left? Kim Dokja isn’t good at handling these types of situations. It’s absurd. Even Han Myungoh had vocalized his disagreement with the decision.
None of them had ever liked Bihyung, and Bihyung made it hard for others to like him, but he was good at his job. That’s all that mattered.
Kim Dokja, you’re the oldest member of your department. Shouldn’t you know how to train the new recruits by now?
“Um,” Kim Dokja dumbly says, flipping the page of the instruction manual back to the questions. “Question one, who—”
“Let me out of here!” Jung Heewon screams.
I need help, Kim Dokja thinks. However, he knows that he’s already being monitored by his supervisors. If they thought he needed help, they would’ve sent someone to assist him. He’s completely alone in dealing with the newest recruit.
It takes several more minutes, and Jung Heewon refuses to calm down, but she does manage to answer the questions one-by-one. The last question, which is about her mother’s eyes, leaves her in a horrified state as she is unable to come up with the answer. She harrowingly asks, “What the hell did you people to do me?” as if Kim Dokja was the one responsible for everything.
Kim Dokja gulps when he knows it’s time to open the door, wary of getting rid of the only safety barrier between him and Jung Heewon. Breathe in, breathe out, and his hand turns the handle, meeting face-to-face with the newest recruit for the first time. She stares at him with wild eyes. He hugs the instruction manual in his arms.
“You passed the test,” Kim Dokja says, averting his eyes from Jung Heewon’s suspicious gaze. “Why don’t you take a seat so I can ex—”
Kim Dokja is interrupted by the impact of the radio transmitter slamming into his head, stars exploding in his vision. He cries out in pain, crumpling to the ground.
They should’ve put Yoo Sangah in charge, is Kim Dokja’s last fleeting thought before everything goes black.
Yoo Sangah makes her dislike of Jung Heewon known from the very beginning. Which is uncharacteristic for Yoo Sangah, whom Kim Dokja has always known as being friendly and polite, even to complete strangers. Yoo Sangah smiles at Jung Heewon, but her quips all carry a bite of passive-aggressiveness that she usually only uses towards their supervisors and occasionally Han Myungoh (usually for justifiable reasons). Jung Heewon’s not stupid and quickly catches on to Yoo Sangah’s hostility.
“Sangah-ssi, we should be trying to make her feel welcome. Not the opposite,” Kim Dokja softly tells her when he follows her into the snack room. There’s a band-aid over the spot where Jung Heewon had hit him earlier. It stings, but it’s manageable. He hopes that the real Kim Dokja won’t hate him for sustaining a workplace injury.
“You’re right,” Yoo Sangah says, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Dokja-ssi, let me handle the training. You should just sit down and rest.”
Her hand rises to gently pat over his band-aid. Kim Dokja sips the cone-shaped cup of water while letting her do so. He’s not sure whether Yoo Sangah is just trying to be nice, or if it’s because she also thinks that he’s incompetent which Supervisor Baram had reminded him in the harsh scolding that had been given to him not even five minutes ago.
“I heard Jung Heewon-ssi tried to leave when I was out,” Kim Dokja says.
Yoo Sangah nods. “It took quite a while for her to give up.”
She’s the opposite of me, Kim Dokja thinks. The supervisors at Lumon Industries have always remarked on his odd case. He’s not a fighter. He tends to go with the flow of things, and he rarely has an opinion on what happens down here in the severed floor. He does what he’s told, no questions asked, and there’s been no behavioral problems for as long as he’s been here. Perhaps that’s why they chose to make him department chief.
“Let’s be a little nicer to her,” Kim Dokja says. “We’ve all been there. Jung Heewon-ssi was just scared—we can’t judge a book by its cover. I’m sure she’s a good person if we come to know her more.”
“Don’t get too close to her until we’re sure.”
They return to the main office together, Han Myungoh purposely letting out a rude scoff when Kim Dokja sits down at his desk.
“I knew someone like you couldn’t be trusted with orientation. It’s your fault that you didn’t follow standard procedure properly, so you only have yourself to blame,” Han Myungoh says. “They should’ve made me Team Leader instead. I would’ve been able to handle the new recruit better.”
“Han Myungoh-ssi,” Yoo Sangah says with a deceptively gentle tone. There’s a warning edge to her voice.
“I’m just saying,” Han Myungoh grumbles. “A fact is a fact. Look, even Dokja can’t deny it himself.”
Kim Dokja ignores the jabs in favor of browsing through the various files on his computer, trying to decide which one he should decrypt next. In the background of the office space, Jung Heewon is led by their supervisor’s aide, Paul, to a television where he slips in an unlabeled VHS tape into the slot of the VHS player.
Jung Heewon’s outie appears on the screen, eyes focused on a flashcard in her hands.
“…I have, of my own free accord, elected to undergo the procedure colloquially known as severance. I give consent for my perceptual chronologies to be surgically split, separating my memories between my work life and my personal life.”
Kim Dokja remembers his own introductory VHS tape. He was only shown it once, and it was a long time ago. But it was the only time he’d ever gotten a glimpse of the “real” Kim Dokja. Every time Kim Dokja wonders why he is the way he is, he thinks back to that video.
How dead his eyes had appeared. The way his shoulders were slouched, and his voice was devoid of any enthusiasm for anything. It felt like he was watching a man who had nothing left to live. Ah, so that’s why I’m like this, is what Kim Dokja had thought.
“I acknowledge that, henceforth, my access to my memories will be spatially dictated. I will be unable to access outside recollections whilst on Lumon's severed basement floor, nor retain work memories upon my ascent.”
Jung Heewon blinks in disbelief at the video of herself. Han Myungoh completely ignores the scene, while Yoo Sangah makes cursory glances to check her reaction every now and then.
“I am aware that this alteration is comprehensive and irreversible. I make these statements freely.”
The video ends with Jung Heewon’s outie giving the camera a polite goodbye, leaving the current Jung Heewon in a state of shock. She walks over to Kim Dokja’s side, Yoo Sangah looking up from her computer with watchful eyes.
“…Is this Hell?” Jung Heewon asks solemnly.
Kim Dokja doesn’t know what to say to that. Lumon Industries is all he’s ever known, so there’s no version of “Heaven” that Kim Dokja has known to even make a fair comparison. He shrugs his shoulders.
Even though he doesn’t know the answer, Kim Dokja says, “No,” knowing that supervisor Paul is listening in the background as the man’s wrapping up the television cables to be stored away.
Things fall back into routine. Kim Dokja finds that Bihyung’s permanent absence hasn’t changed much around the office. Their department is falling behind a little, but that’s to be expected as Jung Heewon is getting the hang of things. She finds the work of macrodata refinement confusing, as most trainees initially do.
Yoo Sangah tries to teach her in lieu of Kim Dokja upon Sangah-ssi’s insistence.
“Don’t you think it’s messed up that we never technically leave this place?” Jung Heewon asks. “It’s like we’re slaves, or something.”
Nobody acknowledges her occasional provocative comments. It’s not like they’re being watched and they probably wouldn’t be punished for having those sort of conversations. But it’s not productive, and nobody likes to be reminded about it.
“You get used to it,” Kim Dokja says.
“How?”
“You’re asking the wrong guy,” Han Myungoh says. “Dokja’s not the type who understands concepts such as wanting a better life. It’s why the higher ups have a bias towards him.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Yoo Sangah says. “Are you still mad at Dokja-ssi for ‘stealing’ your promotion?”
Kim Dokja shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He doesn’t like it when Han Myungoh and Yoo Sangah clash like this. At least Bihyung was always good at breaking up any arguments.
…Oh god, is he expected to play peacemaker now…?
“Um,” Kim Dokja says, trying to speak up.
“Yoo Sangah, are you in love with Kim Dokja? You’re always taking his side, no matter what,” Han Myungoh says. “A workplace romance seems inappropriate, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think you of all people should be saying that,” Yoo Sangah replies, referring to Han Myungoh’s history of unwanted passes made at her.
“You didn’t deny it, however.”
“You have such a simple-minded way of looking at things. Not everyone thinks like you,” Yoo Sangah cooly says.
“Please, stop fighting…” Kim Dokja says, but his voice comes out feebler than he’d like. He’s really not the type of guy suited for this job.
“You guys are so passionate about Kim Dokja, why don’t you redirect that same passion against this inhumane company,” Jung Heewon says. “Or, I don’t know, trying to find a way out of here? Then we wouldn’t be forced to spend every minute of our waking existence in each other’s presence. Wouldn’t that be a more productive use of time.”
“It’s useless, lady,” Han Myungoh flatly comments. “Unless your Outie wants you out of here. But you can never ‘leave’, you know. If your Outie never comes back to work for Lumon, then…”
Jung Heewon’s expression grows complicated. Realization slowly dawns upon her, and as the thought process in her head, stark terror increasingly becomes more visible on her face.
“Oh,” Jung Heewon says, and it comes out breathless.
Kim Dokja cleans out Bihyung’s things, and there’s a group photo of the four of them (before Jung Heewon came along), which is strange. Bihyung never liked any of them. He was an asshole the entire time he was there, even more unbearably so than Han Myungoh at his worst, and that was saying something. The worst part is when Bihyung would pull these “pranks”, but they weren’t very funny, and they were always made at Kim Dokja’s expense.
Bihyung’s not the sentimental type, so why would he keep this photo to the end?
He takes out the photograph from the wooden frame and his heart freezes at the sight of a map scribbled on the back upon closer inspection.
It’s… definitely against company policy to be mapping out the severed floor like this.
Jung Heewon’s head pops up from her desk divider when Kim Dokja pulls Yoo Sangah aside, asking if he could her a question in private. They head into the storage room.
Yoo Sangah looks over the drawn map Kim Dokja hands over to her. “Where did you find this?”
“It was Bihyung’s.”
“Ah.”
“Sangah-ssi, do you think that maybe…” Kim Dokja’s voice wavers at the end.
Yoo Sangah looks up from the photograph to see Kim Dokja making an expression similar to a terrified rabbit.
Sure, none of them ever liked Bihyung, but to Kim Dokja, the thought that Bihyung was involved with shady dealings is terrifying to him. They were never told why Bihyung was let go or if he had even chose to leave of his own accord, despite being the most efficient worker among all of them. Although, Supervisor Baram specifically told Kim Dokja that Bihyung was “no longer part of the company” to keep it vague as any more details released would be an “invasion” on Bihyung’s privacy.
Kim Dokja always had a vague “bad feeling” about Lumon Industries, but he’s hoped for the longest time that it was all just some crazy conspiracy. The alternative being true is too much for Kim Dokja’s weak heart to handle.
“It’s alright, Dokja-ssi,” Yoo Sangah says, a reassuring hand put on his shoulder. “I’ll dispose of this, and we’ll pretend that we never saw it, okay? You don’t have to report this if you don’t want to.”
“Never saw what?”
A hand out of nowhere snatches the photograph from Yoo Sangah’s hands. Jung Heewon stares at the map apprehensively. “What’s this?”
“Let me see,” Han Myungoh, making his presence known, says as he comes out of his spying spot.
“That’s—!” Kim Dokja turns red with embarrassment. “All of you are supposed to be working right now…”
“While you and Yoo Sangah are having a romantic rendezvous in the snack room?” Han Myungoh says accusingly.
“It’s not like that,” Kim Dokja says softly.
“We’re not supposed to map the hallways,” Han Myungoh says. “You didn’t turn this in immediately? Sounds like a potential cause for demotion.”
“Well, well, I,” Kim Dokja stutters.
“Seriously, that’s what you care about?” Jung Heewon snaps. Pointing to the map with her finger, she says, “Look, these—these things here. They look like houses. Do you think it’s a map leading to the outside?”
“It’s a map of the severed floor,” Yoo Sangah says.
“Guys, we really…. really shouldn’t be talking about this. It’s against the rules,” Kim Dokja says, struggling to speak above everyone else. “This is… my fault so I’ll turn myself in. So, can we all please go back to work?”
“Why would there be houses on this floor?” Jung Heewon adds.
“This must’ve taken weeks, maybe even months to make,” Han Myungoh says. “I always thought there was something suspicious about that guy. Good riddance.”
“Hey, can I keep this?” Jung Heewon asks.
Before Kim Dokja can say anything, Yoo Sangah interjects with, “You can keep it. Why not? Just don’t mention Dokja-ssi if you ever get caught.”
“Hey!” Han Myungoh shouts.
“Don’t worry about him,” Yoo Sangah says, referring to Han Myungoh. “I’m sure corporate wouldn’t be happy to hear that Han Myungoh-ssi’s been harboring his own contraband. Isn’t that right?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Han Myungoh says. “You’re bluffing.”
“…Would you like to find out?” Yoo Sangah politely asks. Han Myungoh shuts up, because he can tell from the way Yoo Sangah looks at him that she’s not bluffing.
“Fine, you win this time Yoo Sangah,” Han Myungoh grits out before leaving, clearly upset. Jung Heewon follows behind him, attention focused on the map with curiosity.
It’s just Kim Dokja and Yoo Sangah left behind in the snack room.
“I’m, um, sorry,” Kim Dokja awkwardly says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to trouble you. I just, wasn’t sure… what to do…”
“…Dokja-ssi, you didn’t turn the map in because you were afraid.”
It’s not a question.
“We’re not going to meet the quarter end deadline because of Bihyung’s absence,” Kim Dokja says in his usual soft-spoken manner. “And he was always on the supervisors’ side. I didn’t want to be involved in any trouble that he was in. I didn’t want Baram-ssi or Paul-ssi asking me questions that I wouldn’t know the answers to.”
“That’s okay,” Yoo Sangah reassures. “If anything’s troubling you, you can tell me. I’ll always be willing to lend you my ear.”
See, Yoo Sangah is much more fit to be team leader than him. Kim Dokja doesn’t know what to do when faced with a decision to make, no matter how small. He’s fearful of making the wrong choice. He’s not even scared of fearing the consequences—he’s just scared that he’ll be filled with his own regret in the end having nobody else to blame but himself.
Han Myungoh and Bihyung were right. He’s an absolute coward.
“I’m sorry,” Kim Dokja says.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
He knows Yoo Sangah earnestly means it, but it just makes Kim Dokja feel worse about himself. He nods, hiding his pain with a smile, because he doesn’t want to make Yoo Sangah worry. It always seems like Yoo Sangah can see right through him, however.
Kim Dokja’s days begin and end with the elevator to and from the severed floor at Lumon Industries. It’s a weird sensation, to enter the elevator and have it open back up to the same place that he was trying to “leave”. He knows Jung Heewon’s complained about it more than enough times.
It’s been a few weeks, and Jung Heewon’s mostly settled in by this point. She still hasn’t lost her rebellious spirit, and she’s apparently been wandering around the hallways of the severed floor in her free time using the map that Bihyung left behind, looking for clues to her sweet escape.
“I met a worker from Optics and Design,” Jung Heewon says. “He seemed to be lost.”
Han Myungoh shouts, “Optics and Design—and you’re still alive? It’s dangerous to be fraternizing with anyone from that department! Haven’t you heard of the rumors about the time that someone—”
“Rumors,” Yoo Sangah emphasizes.
“—from O&D went and slaughtered everyone in Macrodata Refinement? Apparently, they hold a grudge against us, so you should always watch your back.”
“He didn’t seem dangerous,” Jung Heewon says. “He seemed more like… a lost puppy. Someone from his own department had to come find him and lead him back.”
“You were outnumbered?” Han Myungoh says with disbelief.
“They did act a little peculiar when I mentioned what department I was from,” Jung Heewon says with a raised eyebrow. “But I didn’t think anything bad of it.”
“It’s better to stay away,” Kim Dokja says quietly. “Just… in case. The rumors are true.”
“You’re the oldest employee out of all of us, right? So shouldn’t you know?” Jung Heewon asks.
“I’ve been working for Lumon for five years,” Kim Dokja says. “And nobody from O&D has ever attacked us, but we’ve always kept our distance from them. So, I wouldn’t know. Better safe than sorry.”
“I’m not surprised someone like you would say that,” Jung Heewon says with a bit of humor. Han Myungoh lets out a mean snicker. Kim Dokja doesn’t have a comeback to that.
“Do you ever think about what our outies are like?”
It’s a ridiculous question, so of course, it was asked by none other than Jung Heewon. Kim Dokja thinks back on the real Kim Dokja’s dead eyes, from that video long ago.
Kim Dokja, when he had first started working for Lumon, had felt awful every day. He had always felt like he was running on an insufficient amount of sleep. Bihyung would always comment how he was all skin and bones. There’s an unspoken proposition about the nature of “severed workers”. They all came to work for Lumon and agreed to undergo the severance procedure for a reason. Or, specifically, their outies had a reason.
Outie Kim Dokja must’ve not been doing very well in life, that’s something Kim Dokja could guess without being told anything. Even if Kim Dokja were to escape Lumon, he doubts there’s anything in the outside world waiting for him.
…But it’s hard to deny the shift that occurred in his second year of working at Lumon. His constant fatigue had suddenly gotten better, and his cheeks became plumper. Outie Kim Dokja had started taking better care of his body. Something must’ve happened up there for this positive change to occur. Kim Dokja will never be able to guess.
“Someone of great importance, I bet,” Han Myungoh proudly boasts. He goes on to speculate about how successful his outie must be, coming up with a few theories as to why he’s ended up here.
Bored, Jung Heewon cuts the man off to ask, “What about you, Sangah-ssi?”
“I can’t say I picture my outie being too much different than me,” Yoo Sangah admits. “I imagine that she’s someone who likes to take leisurely walks outside, and… learn new languages in her free time. I feel like my Spanish has been getting progressively better over time.”
“That’s weird, but cool,” Jung Heewon says. “They say language is stored in a different part of the brain. I don’t even know how I remember that tidbit of information, but I do.”
“And Dokja-ssi?”
Kim Dokja’s head perks up at the mention of his name. He turns to Yoo Sangah who had called it out. “Yes?”
“What do you think your outie is like?” Jung Heewon asks him directly, pulling him into the conversation. “If you ask me, I feel like your outie self is someone who also likes to keep to himself. You seem like you’d be an introvert outside of Lumon, too.”
“He’s definitely single,” Han Myungoh says with confidence. “I’d be surprised if he even has friends. Just look at him.”
Kim Dokja doesn’t have a rebuttal to that, so he looks down at his computer keyboard.
“You have such an annoying personality, I’d be more surprised if you had friends. Why do you always have to treat Kim Dokja like your personal punching bag?” Jung Heewon hotly tells Han Myungoh. “I know Dokja-ssi is a bit of a worm, but we’re all worms here in a way. I’m the newbie, so why don’t you ever pick on me?”
“He’s always shown favoritism towards women,” Yoo Sangah says matter-of-factly. “Apologies, I should clarify that he favors beautiful women.”
Jung Heewon makes a gagging noise with her throat, to which Yoo Sangah lets out a carefree chuckle. Han Myungoh is shameless enough to not even bother refuting the accusation.
“My outie… is doing good,” Kim Dokja says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I can’t possibly imagine what he’s doing out there, but I can tell he’s happier than when I first started working here. I’m happy for him. All I can do is be supportive for him the only way I can. Down here.”
“You don’t care that your outie gets to live happily while you’re stuck down here?” Jung Heewon asks. “You’re not jealous that you can’t get to enjoy the same experiences he does?”
“I’m just not that type of person, Heewon-ssi,” Kim Dokja says. “In my mind, we’re the same person. I think I’m okay with things as they are. It could be much worse. Whatever my outie does, I want to be there for him.”
“You’re so naïve that it’s almost scary,” Jung Heewon says. “Are you a child? Can you be so optimistic about your outie? For all you know, your outie could be a total crook! I mean, they made the decision to put you in here.”
“I don’t think our outies always make the best decisions for themselves,” Kim Dokja says. “That’s just the nature of people. Isn’t it difficult on yourself to always assume the worst of everyone?”
“That’s just inviting people to walk over you!” Han Myungoh points at Kim Dokja and laughs. Kim Dokja ignores him.
“I don’t know much about my outie, but I think I know enough from the observations I’ve gathered over the years. I don’t need to know anything more about him,” Kim Dokja tells Jung Heewon. “That’s all I have to say about this.”
“You put way too much trust in your outie,” Jung Heewon says, still not convinced. “He doesn’t even know how you feel about him. He probably doesn’t even think about you.”
“Let it go,” Yoo Sangah says. “You’re not going to change his mind, so why draw this out? I think it’s fine if Dokja-ssi has faith in his outie. It’s a nice change of pace from everything else that happens around here.”
“It’s unrealistic,” Han Myungoh remarks.
“Or, we’re just cynical,” Yoo Sangah says. “It’s always good to have a different viewpoint on things.”
Ding.
The elevator door opens. Something’s wrong. Kim Dokja steps out of the elevator, his heartbeat speeding up. The security guard near the elevator gives him a cursory glance, nodding at him. Kim Dokja nods back.
The day had started out ordinarily, too. There were no warning signs. He had no reason to assume that getting into that elevator at his allocated leave time would be an indication that his life was to change forever. He stood in that elevator, watching the number go up. He had waited for the moment that the elevator doors would open to the severed floor again, like it did every day.
…But that moment never came. Instead, the elevator doors opened to the forbidden place that Jung Heewon had dreamed of escaping to since the moment she joined the Macrodata Refinement Department.
The Outside.
Dear god, Kim Dokja thinks in his head. He thinks he can hear his inner voice, himself, screaming in confusion at this disorienting experience. What should he do? Should he tell somebody? Should he continue on like everything is alright, when nothing is alright? What could’ve gone wrong?
What if they drag Kim Dokja down there and demand answers, or worse—what if they perform experiments on him? After all, the severance procedure is said to be infallible. Kim Dokja never wanted to be the guy to prove that wrong…
His stomach churns at the idea of scientists prodding at him like a guinea pig. He heads for the exit of the elevator room, only to be stopped by the security guard. It takes everything within Kim Dokja to remain calm, although he’s sure that he must’ve slipped up and given himself away already somehow. He’s not good at being competent, unlike Sangah-ssi. He knew he wouldn’t have lasted more than five minutes out there, alone.
“You forgot your things,” the security guard points out, pointing in the direction of a locker room. “You’ve been more distracted lately. Everything at home alright?”
“Yeah,” Kim Dokja forces out as casually as he can. “It’s been a hectic da—week. I’m losing track of time now, because of how hectic it’s been.”
“We’ve all been there,” the security guard says with sympathy. “See you tomorrow and have a good rest of your day.”
“Thank you,” Kim Dokja politely replies. He goes into the locker room and quickly sifts through (and as discreetly without making much noise) to find his outie’s things. It doesn’t take that long. It’s obvious because his face is printed on his identification card lying inside the drawer.
There’s also a phone besides the ID card. There’s always been this habit with Kim Dokja—his hand has often felt empty. Like there’s a missing piece of the puzzle that he can’t find. The phone feels like it completes that puzzle, as if it’s always belonged clutched in his fingers. It brings a sense of comfort to him that he can’t explain.
…And there’s a golden band ring inside, too. He pockets it, figuring it must belong to his Outie as well. But it brings up several questions, questions that Kim Dokja doesn’t want to think about.
If there’s one thing Kim Dokja’s good at, it’s that he knows how to gowith the flow. He slips off his work shoes for the pair of casual shoes stored in the bottom drawer—just his intuition for these sorts of things. He’s spent a lifetime following procedures. He’s good at recognizing the patterns.
His hand grips his phone tightly as he manages to make it out of the building without arousing suspicion from any onlookers. There’s a passcode needed to unlock his phone, but fortunately the phone automatically unlocks with his thumbprint. Adrenaline courses through Kim Dokja as he walks down the steps to the company building.
He’s outside. He’s actually outside. This isn’t just some dream, because if it was a dream, surely the corporate overlords would be smacking him awake by now, and he’d be waking up on the severed floor in mere seconds.
With dazed eyes, his thumb hovers over the messages icon. A bit fearful yet a bit courageously, he presses the button, and squeaks at the list of contacts that come up. There’s… a lot more than he had been expecting.
A sense of vindication fills him that he had managed to prove Han Myungoh wrong. His outie does have friends. Not just a few, either. It’s more than Kim Dokja could’ve ever hoped for.
As Kim Dokja scrolls down the logs of text conversations had with people, he starts to feel overwhelmed. How does the real Kim Dokja have so many friends? It’s unfathomable to him, who’s always shied away from talking to people. It takes effort just to talk to Yoo Sangah-ssi, and Yoo Sangah-ssi… is the one he trusts the most.
“Ah…” Kim Dokja says, reality settling in.
What should… he do…?
He doesn’t retain any of the real Kim Dokja’s memories. He’s standing outside the Lumon building, looking down at his phone probably seeming like a lost child to anyone who passes by. If he stays close, he’ll look suspicious. However, there weren’t any car keys in the locker room, so… Kim Dokja probably doesn’t drive to work.
His spiraling thoughts are interrupted by the phone vibrating. His heartbeat quickens when he sees that it’s the phone calling screen. Someone’s attempting to call him—no, not him, but the other him. The real Kim Dokja. Someone who’s only listed as “Joonghyuk-ah”.
Should… he answer?
Kim Dokja’s always been bad with decisions, especially split-minute ones. He looks at his surroundings with bewildered eyes and lets the phone ring for three more beats before he decides to hit the answer button. He takes in a deep breath, bracing himself.
“H—Hello,” Kim Dokja’s voice cracks. He clears his throat, trying to remain calm. “Hello?”
“I’m running late,” a deep man’s voice says from the other end of the call. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
The other caller hangs up before Kim Dokja can get another word in. He stares at the phone with a puzzled expression. Ah, well at least he doesn’t have to figure out any logistics of where he lives. Someone is coming to pick him up.
He sits on the steps to the Lumon building, deciding to go through the past message logs between the real Kim Dokja and “Joonghyuk-ah”. Even if it’s a bit of invasion to privacy, he now has to act out in Kim Dokja’s place, so he might as well prepare himself.
What he finds is not what he expects.
Joonghyuk-ah
where r u
Me
Give me a second, you impatient bastard.
Joonghyuk-ah
ur taking too long. the movie is about to start.
Me
There’s a delay on the train. It’s not my fault.
Joonghyuk-ah
it is ur fault for deciding to come last minute.
Me
Do you want to die?
Kim Dokja learns that… he doesn’t actually know much about the real Kim Dokja. Is this really appropriate language to be sending over text?! Just what kind of relationship do these two have…
Me
We’re out of milk.
Joonghyuk-ah
and
Me
Can you stop by the store today?
Joonghyuk-ah
busy
Me
…
Me
Could you at least text like a normal person?
The real Kim Dokja is sarcastic, blunt, sarcastic. Kim Dokja continues to scroll through the text messages, enthralled by him and his outie’s differences in their mannerisms. Could such a polarizing contrast really exist?
Joonghyuk-ah
where did u go.
Joonghyuk-ah
its the middle of the night
Joonghyuk-ah
Kim Dokja. I’m not playing around. Pick up the phone. Now.
Me
An emergency came up. Go back to sleep.
Joonghyuk-ah
What emergency?
Me
Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. I had to meet up with an old friend.
Me
I’ll be back in the morning.
Joonghyuk-ah
Kim Dokja. Answer the call.
Joonghyuk-ah
Kim Dokja.
Joonghyuk-ah
I’m not sleeping until you come back.
There’s something off about this particular back-and-forth that makes Kim Dokja uneasy. He also wouldn’t know what the real Kim Dokja would be doing in the middle of the night. But, more importantly… why would “Joonghyuk-ah” notice that he was even gone at such a time…? Was one of them sleeping over at the other’s house?
“Excuse me,” a feminine voice from behind Kim Dokja interrupts his train of thought.
He turns around and mistakenly almost says Sangah-ssi at the familiar sight of his coworker before stopping himself, remembering that they aren’t supposed to know each other. He stands up from his sitting spot on the steps. By her side is a bike that she drags along by the handles.
“Yes?” Kim Dokja asks Outie Yoo Sangah.
“Apologies if this seems a bit intrusive but… do you happen to need a ride? I could call a taxi for you if you’d like. I couldn’t help but notice that you look a little lost.” Yoo Sangah gives him an awkward smile.
Kim Dokja’s entranced by the way that Yoo Sangah’s outie doesn’t really act much different from the Sangah-ssi that Kim Dokja knows. Even in a situation like this… Sangah-ssi somehow manages to go out of her way to help him, and Kim Dokja still doesn’t know why she would. She’s always been a bit of a mystery to him in that regard.
“Oh—” Kim Dokja snaps out of it, realizing that she’s waiting for an answer. “I’m good. Someone,” Kim Dokja points to his phone, “Someone’s coming to come—come get me.”
“That’s good,” Yoo Sangah says, her smile genuine. “I just wanted to make sure. Have a good rest of your day, then.”
“Wait,” Kim Dokja says. Yoo Sangah, about to hop on her bike, stops in her tracks. “Um… I’m sorry if this comes off as a weird question but… What do you usually do in your free time?”
“You mean hobby-wise? Hmm…” Yoo Sangah rubs at her chin. “I’m always open to trying new things, so I don’t usually only stick with one pastime for long. If I had to mention a consistent one, it’d probably be biking. Ah, I’ve also been trying this new language app to brush up on my Spanish.”
A car pulls up to the curb, Yoo Sangah noticing it first.
“I think that might be your significant other,” Yoo Sangah whispers to him. Kim Dokja chokes.
“S—S—Significant other?!” Kim Dokja stutters back, face turning red. Wait a minute… why does that make a lot of sense considering the context of their texts…?
And the golden band ring. Oh god. Kim Dokja’s really a married man…?
Yoo Sangah’s head tilts to the side. “Are you two not like that? That man always comes to pick you up from work every day, so I had just assumed…”
The man in the driver’s seat—presumably Joonghyuk-ah—reaches over to tap on the passenger seat window with an impatient expression on his face.
“I better go,” Kim Dokja says, dodging the question. With a polite bow, he says, “Thank you for answering my question, I hope it didn’t come off as too intrusive. Have a good day.”
Yoo Sangah gives a friendly goodbye wave, and Kim Dokja is yet again reminded that she’s really not different from the Sangah-ssi he knows. Maybe Sangah-ssi will be happy to hear that. He walks up to the car, opening the back seat door and climbs in. He doesn’t expect there to be a little girl with black pigtails waiting in the car already.
The girl looks up from her phone to give him a confused look. “Did you hit your head at work again, ugly ahjussi?”
“Mia,” Yoo Joonghyuk says.
“Are you two fighting again? Whatever it is, I don’t want to be involved. Go sit in the front with oppa, you’re taking up too much space here.”
“I just felt like I w—wanted a change of pace,” Kim Dokja quietly says, apologetic. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
Yoo Mia’s jaw drops.
“She’s exaggerating,” Yoo Joonghyuk dismissively grunts.
“Hey, ugly ahjussi, are you okay? Like, for real?” Yoo Mia asks with skepticism, taken aback by the response. “You’re not sick, are you?”
Her hand reaches up to touch his forehead. She pulls back after. “No fever,” Yoo Mia adds. “Oppa, something’s definitely wrong with ahjussi. Aren’t you going to pry any further?”
“He’s probably just had a long day at work,” Yoo Joonghyuk says.
“How does that make any sense if he can’t even remember anything from going to work?” Yoo Mia asks with a roll of her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me, then.”
Did you hit your head at work again, ugly ahjussi. She must be referring to the time when Jung Heewon had left that injury on his head. Did they inform his Outie what had happened? Probably not. They probably lied to him.
Kim Dokja looks out the car window, eyes taking in all the of new overwhelming imagery of the outside. Jung Heewon would be ecstatic to be in his position. He should be excited, too, but it’s… not that as exhilarating as he thought it would be.
No, rather… his palms have been sweaty from the moment he left the safe confines of the Lumon building. His head feels frustratingly empty. He’s been on the verge of panic since he’s made the active decision to conceal the fact that the real Kim Dokja hasn’t returned. If he comes clean to Lumon now, they’d surely punish him and his outie. He doesn’t want that.
Am I making the right choice… Kim Dokja wishes he could consult Sangah-ssi. She always had the best advice for him to follow.
You couldn’t rely on Sangah-ssi forever, Kim Dokja tells himself. This is his problem to deal with, alone. He can do this. Yes, Kim Dokja, all you have to do is get through today, tonight, and go back to work tomorrow. He’s sure the real Kim Dokja will return then, and everything will go back to normal.
…Right?
During the short walk to their destination, Kim Dokja notices how the backpack on Yoo Mia’s shoulders sag, and gently asks, “That looks heavy. Do you need any help?”
Yoo Mia gives him a weird look. “I’m stronger than you, ahjussi. I think your bones would snap if you tried to carry my books for me.”
“Well, you’re probably right,” Kim Dokja adds sheepishly. “If only I was a little more dependable…”
“You should drink more milk,” Yoo Mia tells him.
“He’s a lost cause,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. Kim Dokja’s sure that he means it as a joke, but he notices that… Joonghyuk-ah doesn’t really talk with humor in his voice. He’s not easy to read because it’s hard to pick up any emotion in his voice, actually.
And he’s a complete stranger to Kim Dokja.
He thinks Yoo Sangah’s outie was right, though. They seem to be… living together… and if Yoo Joonghyuk is picking him up from work every day, then… they must be “together”, in that sense.
But Kim Dokja from Lumon has never even held hands with anybody, let alone kissed another person. For all of the accusations that Han Myungoh has made, he and Yoo Sangah truly have remained platonic acquaintances at best. He’s the type of person who likes to keep his distance from others in the first place, and Yoo Sangah also likes to maintain a comfortable distance having always kept Kim Dokja’s personal space in mind.
No, no, Kim Dokja can’t just immediately jump to the conclusion of their relationship being romantic, right? Their text messages indicate a close relationship, but there’s no indication that they’re like that. As for the golden band ring… it could just be a memento from a family member, or something. Never mind the fact that Joonghyuk-ah has a matching ring…
Why would anybody in the world want to pursue someone like Kim Dokja romantically? No offense to his outie. But he’s a pushover, and he’s undependable, and he’s incompetent without someone to lead him through anything. But his outie is nothing like him, as far as he knows.
“It’s okay, ugly ahjussi. You don’t have to look so sad,” Yoo Mia tries to comfort Kim Dokja. “Seriously, oppa. Doesn’t he look like he’s about to cry? Or am I going crazy?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yoo Joonghyuk says, but then he takes a second glance at Kim Dokja. Kim Dokja resists the urge to cower at the way that those eyes intensely look him over.
“I’m fine, guys,” Kim Dokja says. “I think I’m just tired. Maybe I should take a nap when I get home.”
“You said you were going to help me with my book report!” Yoo Mia says. “It’s due tomorrow.”
“Mia, what did I tell you about leaving things off to the last minute,” Yoo Joonghyuk sighs. “Why do you only pick up Kim Dokja’s bad habits?”
“It’s not my fault that ugly ahjussi is always busy,” Yoo Mia replies. “He promised me he would help me, but every time I ask him, he says he’s talking to a friend!”
“Is Han Sooyoung still pestering you about the manuscript?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks Kim Dokja.
He doesn’t recognize the name. He nods stiffly, saying, “Yes… It seems I can’t ever catch a break these days, huh?”
The phone in Kim Dokja’s pocket vibrates. He pulls it out to see that he’s getting a call from UNKNOWN. He decides that he’ll look at it later, returning the phone back where it was.
Kim Dokja does not recognize his own face in the framed photographs around his—their—apartment. At Lumon, all Kim Dokja ever is… neutral. Perhaps slightly scared, or occasionally jittery, but there’s not a lot of opportunities for him to feel strongly about one thing or another. It’s been that way for the past five years. Kim Dokja’s never really thought much of it.
He’s looked at the mirror in the bathroom at Lumon Industries and he knows his own face well, seeing how it’s one of the few things he’s allowed to remember. It’s always the same, though. The same distant look in his eyes, devoid of any life, his mouth which refuses to either frown or smile. Kim Dokja looks at himself and sees an insignificant man staring back at him.
He’s not as spirited as Jung Heewon, who dreams of seeing the outside world and being able to live her own life. He’s not as smart or efficient as Yoo Sangah, who always acts so confident around others and works twice as hard as any of them. He’s not even as selfish as Han Myungoh, who still has desires and seems very human in comparison to Kim Dokja, who simply exists and has nothing else going for him.
He sees the wide range of emotions that the real Kim Dokja is able to show with his facial expressions alone in these photographs, and thinks… Kim Dokja, you should come back. Your innie is out of his depth here! He doesn’t even know how to live your life, let alone deserve to live it!
He pulls a specific framed photo off the shelf, one where the real Kim Dokja is leaning closely to Yoo Joonghyuk’s side while the man is carrying Yoo Mia on his back, a string belonging to a blue balloon held in her hands. The vibrant smile on the real Kim Dokja’s face brings an indescribable warmth to his heart. Ah, he was right to assume Kim Dokja is happy. He’s glad for him. Truly.
He’s not bitter about his other half getting to live out a life like Jung Heewon would be. He just… wants to go back to Lumon. He doesn’t want to be here, living another person’s life. He’s content with having water-cooler conversations with Yoo Sangah-ssi and listening to Jung Heewon’s rambles about her conspiracy theories on Lumon. Kim Dokja might not even mind hearing Han Myungoh make a backhanded quip about him, because Sangah-ssi will always jump to his defense, and Jung Heewon will pile up on the man in solidarity.
Those things are all familiar to Kim Dokja. He’s not good with dealing with unfamiliar things.
“You’ve been staring at that picture for a while.”
Kim Dokja turns to see Yoo Mia staring up at him with a curious look. He sets the photo down carefully to the spot on the shelf where it belongs.
“…Did you want to work on that book report together now?” Kim Dokja asks. Yoo Mia nods.
It was apparently a bad idea to suggest that, because Kim Dokja stares at the introduction paragraph of Yoo Mia’s mostly unwritten book report and realizes that he doesn’t know anything about the book Yoo Mia is writing about.
“What do you mean you forgot everything that happens in the book?!” Yoo Mia asks. “Are you telling me that you can’t help me after all!”
Kim Dokja takes a curt glimpse at the time on his phone.
As severed workers of Lumon, they don’t have a lot of rights to certain information. They’re not even told when their birthday is. But one of the few tidbits of information they’re allowed to receive is their name.
Kim Dokja.
Dokja, which means “only son”, but it could also be interpreted as “reader”. He’s always wondered about the origins of his name.
“Do you have the book with you?” Kim Dokja asks.
“You can find it online. Why?”
“I’ll reread it quickly. After dinner, I’ll be able to help you like I promised.”
The phone in Kim Dokja’s pocket vibrates again, but he ignores it. He has to take responsibility for the real Kim Dokja while he’s acting in his place. This task can’t be put off any further, he doesn’t want to Mia-yah to look at the real him in a bad light because of his own incompetency.
“Ahjussi, you don’t have to go out of your way to help. You know, this isn’t the first time you’ve failed to help me on homework. Usually by now, you’d be saying something like, ‘I’ve got adult stuff to deal with,’ instead of admitting it. Are you trying to get on my good side today?”
“I don’t want you to hate me.”
“Eh…? Why would I hate you? I’d only hate you if you broke oppa’s weak heart. You better count your blessings if that happens, because I’ll be the one to personally beat you up!”
Kim Dokja looks at her in disbelief. “His… weak heart…?”
He can’t really imagine a man such as Yoo Joonghyuk having a weak heart. He seems so self-assured and firm, like a wall that Kim Dokja couldn’t ever hope to break through. That’s only from his initial assessment of the man though.
“I said what I said,” Yoo Mia says, crossing her arms.
Dinner is an affair.
Kim Dokja’s only ever eaten small snacks or the occasional treats that Lumon provides as office perks. Sitting at the table as Yoo Joonghyuk sets down the stir-fry dishes, it smells delicious, but it also makes Kim Dokja want to run away. It’s not really a privilege meant for him, it’s supposed to be the real Kim Dokja’s right to eat these delicious meals. Is it really okay for him…?
“I probably won’t eat much,” Kim Dokja says. “I’m not feeling that hungry today.”
“You say that, like, every day,” Yoo Mia complains, which is not something Kim Dokja would know.
“You need to eat more,” Yoo Joonghyuk adds. “You’ve been losing too much weight.”
“And remember to drink milk!” Yoo Mia reminds him.
Kim Dokja silently gets up to pour himself a glass of milk at the child’s insistence. He sits back down at the table with the cup in his hands, hesitantly picking at the food with his chopsticks.
“Wait, he actually listened,” Yoo Mia says. “Oppa, didn’t I tell you something’s off about him?”
Kim Dokja chews through his first bite of Yoo Joonghyuk’s homemade cooking, savoring the delicious flavor. He thinks Kim Dokja must be a lucky man to have such a talented chef for a better half. No wonder he’s been so content with his life.
“What’s wrong with milk?” Kim Dokja absentmindedly asks.
“There’s nothing wrong with milk! It’s just, uh, it’s just…” Yoo Mia trails off, unable to express her bewilderment into words. “Oppa, say something!”
Yoo Joonghyuk barely reacts, more focused on eating. After finishing his bite, with a sigh, he tells Kim Dokja, “I think you’ve made your point, Kim Dokja. You can stop this false pretense already.”
“R—Right,” Kim Dokja agrees, trying his best not to panic. “I’ll, um, go back to being normal tomorrow, I’m sure. You’ll just have to put up with me like this for today.”
“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if ugly ahjussi was always this nice,” Yoo Mia says in a lighthearted tone.
If his outie never came back, Kim Dokja wouldn’t know what to do. He visibly deflates at the idea and seeing Kim Dokja actually look that depressed makes Yoo Mia feel guilty for some reason.
“She’s joking,” Yoo Joonghyuk tells Kim Dokja, having picked up on his sudden change of mood. Kim Dokja had figured, but it’s not a very funny joke. It’s horrifying to him, that potential reality when. Not that he blames Yoo Mia because he knows that she doesn’t have the proper context.
“I’m sorry,” Kim Dokja quietly says. “I know I shouldn’t be so sensitive. I’m probably just more tired than usual. That must be it. But thank you for worrying about me.”
Now, Yoo Joonghyuk is giving him a certain look, and the man exchanges glances with Yoo Mia. Ahh, Kim Dokja feels sorry to his outie. He’s not very good at acting. If only he was a better innie who knew how to be a proper Kim Dokja.
Kim Dokja discovers that he’s quite a skilled… reader. He can skim over pages at a fairly quick pace and still retain all the information from said pages. Now, he knows what to answer if Jung Heewon asks what he thinks his outie must do in his free time.
As he’s reading the book using his phone, the device buzzes one more time and his reading session is interrupted by a notification popup from a tls123.
tls123
Hey. What’s the progress on the manuscript?
Kim Dokja looks over the message and decides that’s a question for the, erm, his outie to answer. He certainly doesn’t know what this tls123 is talking about. As he’s about to check his other messages, a new text gets sent in the conversation.
tls123
I can see you read my message. Don’t you dare fucking ghost me.
tls123
You said you would look it over by today. So?
Ack, why are all of Kim Dokja’s friends so aggressive…?
Me
Ask again tomorrow
tls123
wtf man
tls123
I’m kicking your ass next time I see
you. You better be prepared.
He’s able to help Yoo Mia with his book report after finishing skimming the rest of the book. Afterwards, he spends the rest of the evening rummaging through the photos on his phone. Most of the pictures are either of him, Joonghyuk-ah, Yoo Mia, and occasionally, there’s another woman with a bob haircut that gives the camera a cheeky look. Kim Dokja’s not sure who that could be. Maybe his sister?
They don’t look too alike, but…
Him and this woman seem fairly close. Maybe it’s a fair assumption to make.
The bed dips and Kim Dokja looks up from his phone just in time to see Yoo Joonghyuk leaning in and giving his forehead a light kiss. Kim Dokja’s face turns as red as a cherry tomato, a surprised squeak forced out from his throat.
Sangah-ssi, help him…
“Ah, w—what are you doing?” Kim Dokja asks, voice high-pitched.
“It’s getting late. You said you were tired, so you should go to bed early.”
That doesn’t explain the sneak forehead kiss attack, Kim Dokja internally screams while he smiles on the outside. “Yes, thank you for remembering.”
“Hmph. You better not be keeping anything important from me.”
Well, how could Kim Dokja possibly tell him that there’s a stranger using his better half’s body at the moment? It’s not exactly a bedtime conversation topic. It’s okay, because Kim Dokja’s sure that the real Kim Dokja will return tomorrow. Everything will go back to the way it should be.
“Okay,” Kim Dokja says, patting Yoo Joonghyuk on the shoulder. It feels awkward because he’s never been in a relationship, and he doesn’t know what people do in relationships. When Yoo Joonghyuk goes to the bathroom, he puts in the web search engine of his phone, ‘what do people do in a normal relationship’, but only finds articles touting about how consent, trust, and communication are the key to a healthy relationship.
That’s not what he’s looking for…
The bed shifts when Yoo Joonghyuk comes back, and Kim Dokja’s eyes widen at the fact that Joonghyuk-ah’s shirtless. Ahh…?????
Kim Dokja’s face heats up, his face somehow turning redder. He can’t do this, he can’t do this, he can’t do this…
Lumon, take him away from this place, please…
“Why haven’t you changed out of your work clothes yet,” Yoo Joonghyuk comments, his arms snaking around to curl around his waist. Kim Dokja tenses at the physical contact, unused to the skinship.
Why haven’t you changed… the question slowly processes in his head. He’s not expecting Kim Dokja to strip out of his clothes, is he?!
Oh, god… they don’t… do it, do they?
That, that… that. The thing that people usually do in sexual relationships. Yoo Joonghyuk’s not expecting them to do it tonight, is he?! No, no, that’s definitely too out of Kim Dokja’s depth! His heart rate spikes at the inappropriate thought.
“Uh,” Kim Dokja says dumbfoundedly, curling up into a ball on the bed. “I’m just too tired tonight… I hope that’s o—okay with you.”
“I don’t particularly care.”
“That’s… good,” Kim Dokja says. He closes his eyes to the feeling of Yoo Joonghyuk’s loving arms wrapped around him, and his last thought is, it’s warm.
Kim Dokja wakes up in the middle of the night to his phone vibrating once again. With bleary eyes, he gets up and looks besides him to Yoo Joonghyuk sprawled on the other side of the bed, sound asleep. He opens up his phone to see 11 missed calls from UNKNOWN.
It has to be urgent if they’re this desperate in trying to reach him. Feeling bad, Kim Dokja silently excuses himself from the room to pick up the call this time from the living room, not wanting to disturb Joonghyuk-ah.
“Hello?” Kim Dokja sleepily says.
“Where are you? Dokja, you fucking idiot!” A scratchy voice from the other end screams. “Did you even read my messages?”
“Bihyung?” Kim Dokja recognizes with a sinking heart.
Bihyung… his old co-worker from Lumon, the former team leader of Macrodata Refinement. Why is he in contact with outie Kim Dokja?
Just what the hell has the real Kim Dokja been involved with…
“Yes, who the hell else would it be?” Bihyung sarcastically replies. “Whatever, you’re awake now. Are you coming or not?”
“…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kim Dokja says quietly. “But whatever it may be, I’m not ‘coming’.”
“What? You know how important this operation is—!”
“You’re the one who’s been involving my outie in your shady plans,” Kim Dokja says. “You shouldn’t be including him in whatever it is you’ve been doing, and I don’t want to get involved, too. Stop contacting him, sunbae. Or I’ll report you to Lumon myself.”
The other end of the call goes deathly silent at the proclamation.
“Oh, it’s you,” Bihyung says with disgust in his voice.
“I’m going to hang up,” Kim Dokja says.
“Wait, wait, you fucker! That means something went wrong with the reintegration procedure! Shit, what the…”
“Reintegration?”
No, that’s impossible. That shouldn’t be possible at all. Severance is an infallible procedure… Besides, why would Kim Dokja be trying to reintegrate? He, the worker from the severed floor, who has nothing of value to offer to Kim Dokja. He would just tie his outie down.
Kim Dokja… attempted to have the procedure…?
“That’s right. Your outie wanted to reverse the effects of severance. You’re curious about the reason, aren’t you?”
“…”
Kim Dokja’s grip on the phone tightens until his knuckles turn white. He trembles like a leaf, because he doesn’t know how to process all these revelations coming in such a short amount of time. He doesn’t know why it’s happening to him of all people. He’s just a normal severed employee. So, why…?
“It’s none of my business,” Kim Dokja says. “I don’t know what’s going on, all I can tell is that it’s dangerous. Why are you putting my outie’s life in danger?”
“Because not everyone is a spineless idiot. Unlike you, he actually believes in doing the right thing, despite the risks.”
“And how do you know reintegration is the ‘right thing’ to do? Who are you to judge that…”
“It was your outie’s choice, not mine. I was even against him undergoing the reintegration procedure, you know, because I remember how much of a pain in the ass you are to deal with. So, don’t even try to pin the blame on me. Your outie is the only one to blame.”
“The next time you see my outie, tell him that I’m also against it. If he wants to get rid of me that badly, he should just quit Lumon,” Kim Dokja says. “He doesn’t need to be concerned about me. Whatever happens, happens. Just look after him, okay?”
“Well, it’s too fucking late for that. He already went through with it.” A pause. “We thought the surgery wasn’t a success, but for this to happen instead… If this doesn’t fix itself by tomorrow, you need to come in to see Seolhwa. She’ll know what to do.”
“It will fix itself by tomorrow. It has to,” Kim Dokja says, thinking he’s trying to delude himself more than Bihyung. “I’m going back to sleep. Goodbye, Bihyung.”
He hangs up the call without waiting for Bihyung’s response. He looks down at his phone, still reeling from the series of revelations. Ack…
“I can’t do this,” Kim Dokja breathes out in panic, putting his face into his hands, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “Why, why, why me… I never asked for any of this…”
The slight creak of a door echoes through the apartment.
Alarmed, Kim Dokja turns his head in that direction, but his eyes don’t catch anything. He sneaks back into his and Joonghyuk-ah’s bedroom, suspiciously peeking at the man’s face. He pokes Joonghyuk-ah’s cheek.
“Were you awake?” Kim Dokja questions innocently.
Yoo Joonghyuk groans and shifts in his sleep with a noise that seems too believable to be fake, and Kim Dokja thinks that he must’ve imagined the noise in the midst of his high paranoia state.
It takes a while this time, and the bed isn’t as warm as before, but he eventually does fall back into a fretful state of sleep…
“Ahjussi, let me do your hair today. You don’t want to show up to work with a bedhead,” Yoo Mia tells him in the morning while Yoo Joonghyuk is making breakfast. Kim Dokja agrees, letting the child comb her hair.
When she’s finished, she tells him, “Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” pointing to the cup in the bathroom containing two toothbrushes, “and to change into a new suit.” She takes the initiative to run across the room to open up the shared bedroom closet and even prepares a uniform for him and lays it out on the bed. “This one is still clean.”
“Thank you,” Kim Dokja says with a gentle smile and pats the top of Yoo Mia’s hair.
“I’m just making up for all the rude things I said yesterday,” Yoo Mia says, taking Kim Dokja’s hand off her head. “Also, yours is the red one.”
Kim Dokja doesn’t fully understand what she means at first until he realizes that it’s referring to the toothbrushes.
He reappears later in the living room with a sheepish expression. “Joonghyuk-ah, sorry to bot—”
Yoo Mia jumps up from her seat at the dining table, the chair legs scraping against the wooden floor. “I’ll do your tie, ahjussi! I know how to do it!”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s raises an eyebrow at Kim Dokja while Yoo Mia enthusiastically ties his tie, and Kim Dokja mouths back, I don’t know either. He supposes it’s not a bad thing that Yoo Mia is suddenly so nice to him.
“Do you usually do this for me?” Kim Dokja asks.
“Never,” Yoo Mia huffs. “Today is a special exception, okay? So don’t expect me to do this for you every day.”
“What’s so special about today?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks from the kitchen.
“We have to treat Dokja-ahjussi extra nice today,” Yoo Mia says. “Consider it an early birthday present. Your birthday, which I must remind you, is on the 15th of February. Don’t forget it.”
Yoo Mia insistently taps on his head with her finger. “That means you, ahjussi. Don’t. Forget. It.”
“I got it, I got it,” Kim Dokja says, “February fifteenth, I’ll remember it.”
“Good.”
“You two seem to be in on something that I don’t know about,” Yoo Joonghyuk remarks when he sets down the plate of pancakes down on the table.
“No, I swear I don’t know anything!” Kim Dokja says. “I would never want to exclude you from anything, Joonghyuk-ah.”
“Oppa, I just told you to be nice to him,” Yoo Mia whines. “Ahjussi, come eat. You need all the energy you can get for work.”
After eating, Yoo Mia drags him by the hand the entire walk to Yoo Joonghyuk’s car. “Now sit in the back with me.”
“But—”
“Ahjussi, just do as I say,” Yoo Mia insists. Kim Dokja gives Yoo Joonghyuk a helpless look, but Yoo Joonghyuk is too busy getting into the driver’s seat to notice.
Kim Dokja looks out the car window, knowing it’s possibly his last time ever seeing this type of scenery. If outie Kim Dokja does come back, Kim Dokja wholeheartedly hopes the man listens to him and Bihyung and gives up on the idea of reintegration. It’s better that way for the both of them.
“It’s a nice day today, isn’t it?” Yoo Mia asks.
Without even thinking, Kim Dokja absentmindedly lets the awe-filled words slip out of his mouth with his usual soft-spoken manner, “…It’s beautiful.”
Realizing what he had just said, he quickly adds, “I mean. It’s a beautiful day.”
“Enjoy it while you can. The forecast said that it’ll rain later today,” Yoo Joonghyuk casually mentions.
“The forecast isn’t always right,” Yoo Mia says.
Yoo Joonghyuk drops Yoo Mia off at her school first before driving to the entrance of Lumon industries.
“Have a good day at work,” Yoo Joonghyuk says as he’s dropping Kim Dokja off, and wouldn’t it be poetic if those are the last words Kim Dokja hears from his outie’s unsuspecting partner.
“I will,” Kim Dokja says.
The elevator ride down to the severed floor is normal, and Kim Dokja blinks when the elevator doors open. He’s still himself, at least. It’d be a disaster if outie Kim Dokja was forced to go to work in his stead. He’d definitely get caught if that were the case.
He’s only spent a day in the outside world but the hallways of the severed floors make him claustrophobic. The outside was just… so open compared to the life lived behind these walls…
But Kim Dokja knows that he was never supposed to catch a glimpse of that outside world in the first place.
“Good morning, Dokja-ssi,” Yoo Sangah says. It’s still hard to come back to reality after that dream-like sequence of events.
“Morning, Sangah-ssi,” Kim Dokja politely replies, sitting down at his designated desk.
“Do you guys have to go through the same ritual greeting every day?” Jung Heewon says, shooting the both of them an unimpressed look from her desk.
“Give it up. They’ve been doing it for over a year now,” Han Myungoh says.
Kim Dokja remembers the brief interaction he had with outie Yoo Sangah—how should he bring up the new information he learned without seeming suspicious? Or, perhaps, it’s not a good idea at all in case someone happens to overhear him. There’s too much risk involved, but it’s sad because Kim Dokja thinks that Yoo Sangah would like to hear about her outie.
He decides to stay quiet for now. Maybe there’ll be a better opportunity to bring it up later.
It’s a normal workday, especially compared to the adventure that had been forced upon Kim Dokja yesterday. He dreads looking at the ticking clock because he doesn’t want to believe that there’s something wrong with him. He doesn’t want to believe that the real Kim Dokja has gone missing.
“You seem more distracted today than usual,” Yoo Sangah comments as he’s getting a cup of water from the watercooler.
“I have a lot on my mind,” Kim Dokja says. “I’m a little worried for my outie.”
“How so?”
Kim Dokja’s face twitches. “I have a feeling that he’s gotten himself involved in something he shouldn’t. Just a vague feeling.”
“Are you hurt anywhere?” Yoo Sangah asks with slight alarm.
“No, no, it’s just…” Kim Dokja sighs. “I’m just frustrated, and I don’t have anyone to talk to. What would you do in that situation when you’re surrounded by people you don’t know?”
“Find someone you can trust,” Yoo Sangah says. “I mean, it takes time to get to know whether you can trust them or not. There was a time when we weren’t on the best of terms, either.”
“When you first started working here, but you adapted quickly. You got used to our team relatively fast.”
“That was only because of Dokja-ssi, however.”
Kim Dokja’s eyes widen. “Me? Wait, r—really? I contributed to that?”
“You made me believe that I could trust you,” Yoo Sangah curtly says. Kim Dokja scratches his head, trying to remember if there was such an incident where Kim Dokja had proved himself to Yoo Sangah, but none comes to mind.
“You should give yourself more credit,” Yoo Sangah adds. “There are a lot of qualities I admire about Dokja-ssi that others lack, especially here.”
“I’m not—not really that good at anything. Even Heewon-ssi is surpassing me in macrodata refinement efficacy already.”
“I’m not talking about work. Not everything is about work.”
Kim Dokja looks at her expectantly, hoping that she could elaborate more. However, Yoo Sangah merely gives him a knowing look. She adds, “You’ll get it someday. Just keep that thought in your head for now.”
He doesn’t want to leave the office, but Kim Dokja now knows that Joonghyuk-ah picks up Kim Dokja from work every day, and it would be rude to leave the other man waiting because he’s afraid of confronting reality. Kim Dokja steps into the elevator, maintaining a calm façade outside while a violent storm brews on the inside.
The elevator closes. He feels the elevator making its journey upwards. Kim Dokja half-expects the elevator to open up to the severed floor again, as it should, but it’s the same result as yesterday. It opens on the upstairs level.
Kim Dokja grabs his things from the locker room, remembering the habit from yesterday, and as he’s grabbing the outside shoes from the bottom of the drawer, he has the inexplicable urge to scream. He wants to shout, cry, and laugh out all these repressed emotions within him. But most importantly, he’s scared. He just wants to know…
Kim Dokja…
Just where did you go?