The Stations of the Star Stream

The air in the subway station? Wrong. Not the usual Paris metro humidity or that sterile underground chill. Thick, metallic, with something rotting underneath. Fish, maybe. Thomas Blondé felt it first—a prickle at the back of his neck that stopped him mid-story about yesterday's physics exam. The words just died.

Around him, the rest of his class flickered into existence. Like frames in a corrupted video. One second they were boarding the bus for the Musée d'Orsay trip. Next, they're standing on some dirty subway platform in a city that sure as hell isn't Paris.

"What the—" Augustin's voice cracked.

"Where are we?" Marie clutched her bag like it could protect her.

Signs hung from the ceiling. Characters that looked like twisted versions of familiar letters. Hangul, Joseph's brain supplied, though he had no idea how he knew that. Cold certainty settled in his bones. Recognition that didn't make sense.

He knew this place.

The platform was packed. Hundreds of people—Koreans, mostly, in suits and school uniforms—stood frozen. Faces cycling through confusion, fear, denial. A few already crying. A man shouting into his phone in rapid Korean, voice cracking. A child clinging to her mother's leg, wailing.

Then the dokkaebi appeared.

Descended from the ceiling on a thread of light. Small, no taller than a child. Horned head, grin splitting its face into two halves of pure malice. Skin like bruised fruit. Eyes gleaming with the joy of a predator watching prey fall into a trap.

"Welcome, welcome!" Voice amplified, Korean that Joseph understood perfectly—a side effect of translation, a gift from the Star Stream to make sure no one missed the horror. "To the first scenario of the—"

"Ways of Survival," Joseph breathed, quiet enough that no one heard.

Heart hammering. No. This couldn't be real. He'd read the novel, devoured all 3,149 chapters over countless sleepless nights. Dreamed of being Kim Dokja, of understanding the plot, surviving through knowledge alone.

But this wasn't a dream.

"Eliminate the Weak!" The dokkaebi's grin widened. "Rules are simple: within thirty minutes, all weaklings will be eliminated. Those who survive move on. Those who fail—don't worry. You won't feel a thing."

The crowd erupted.

Screaming. Pushing. Stampede toward exits already sealed, replaced by walls of shimmering light. Someone tripped, and the mass of bodies swallowed them whole.

"Stay together!" Louis's voice cut through. Already moving, shoving aside a businessman who stumbled into his path. "Everyone, stick with me!"

The jocks rallied behind him. Gabriel, Malik, Axel—tight cluster, athletic builds giving them an edge. Augustin grabbed Apoline's hand. Samuel and Pierre flanked them, faces pale but determined.

Not everyone could keep up.

Zakari hit the ground, glasses flying. He scrambled, blind and terrified, until a hand grabbed his collar and hauled him up. Jonathan's voice sharp in his ear: "Move, move, move!"

Useless. All of it.

The monsters came from the tunnels.

Burst through train doors—creatures like fish but walking on stunted legs, bodies covered in scales that gleamed like oil slicks. Mouths round, filled with concentric rings of teeth. Ichthyosaurs, Joseph identified, though the name felt wrong, insufficient. These weren't the creatures from the novel's first scenario. Faster. Hungrier.

A woman screamed as one latched onto her arm. Blood sprayed across the tiles.

"Fight back!" Louis grabbed a trash can, swung it like a club. The ichthyosaur flew back but landed on its feet, hissing.

Gabriel followed, using his backpack as a shield. Malik kicked another in the head, football training paying off in the most grotesque way.

But the girls were struggling.

Agathe frozen, hands pressed over her ears. Kiara pulling at her sleeve, trying to drag her toward a ticket booth. Solène crying, breath ragged. Valentine standing protectively in front of them, fire extinguisher in trembling hands.

"Get behind me!" Her voice broke.

Marie wasn't crying. Marie was looking around, eyes sharp, calculating. She spotted Joseph standing apart from the group, lips moving silently, hands tracing patterns in the air.

"What's he doing?" Barely audible.

Joseph was concentrating. The novel mentioned magic existed in this world, tied to constellations and the Star Stream. He'd read about runes, patterns that channeled energy. Never tried it before, but the knowledge was there, buried in memory.

He traced a symbol in the air: a circle with three intersecting lines. Minor defensive rune.

A spark.

Small flame flickered at his fingertips, grew into a ball of fire the size of his fist. Not much. Pathetic compared to what the novel's characters could do. But enough.

He threw it.

The flame hit an ichthyosaur lunging at a fallen child. The creature screeched, scales smoking, recoiled. The child's mother grabbed her and ran, didn't even glance back to thank him.

Joseph's hands trembled. The flame drained him, left him lightheaded and weak.

But he'd been noticed.

The dokkaebi's eyes swiveled toward him, grin sharpening with interest.

"Oh?" Voice a purr only Joseph could hear. "A clever one, are you? Using magic before the scenario even properly begins? How... fascinating."

Joseph's blood ran cold.

---

The first wave lasted ten minutes.

Ten minutes of screaming, blood, and chaos. Ten minutes of watching strangers die while monsters tore through the crowd like a child through a shoebox of ants.

When it was over, the platform was littered with bodies. Most were NPCs—the dokkaebi had used that word, NPC, with such casual contempt it made Joseph's stomach turn. A few were students from other schools, teenagers in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But the French class had survived.

Barely.

Zakari sat against a pillar, arm bent at an unnatural angle. Apoline pressing torn fabric against a gash on her thigh, face white with pain. Lucie sobbing into Dianne's shoulder. Grégoire staring at the ceiling, eyes empty.

And Louis staring at Joseph.

"What was that?" He stepped forward, fists clenched, jaw tight. "That fire thing. What the hell was that?"

Joseph didn't answer. Still shaking, magic depleted, mind racing through novel chapters. The first scenario was supposed to be easy. Weak eliminated, survivors moved on. The class hadn't lost anyone. Not yet.

"What was that?" Louder now.

"A spell." Joseph's voice flat. "I read about it. In a book."

"A book." Augustin scoffed, stepping up beside Louis. "You expect us to believe that? You were shooting fire from your hands. That's not in any book I've ever read."

"Then you haven't read the right books." Joseph immediately regretted it.

Louis's face darkened. Another step forward, body language aggressive, threatening. "You know something. You knew about this. The monsters, the dokkaebi, all of it. You knew before we even got here."

"I didn't—"

"Don't lie to me!"

The shout echoed. Other students turned to look. Clément Gosse exchanged a glance with Baptiste Rualt. Arthur and Thomas shifted uncomfortably.

"He doesn't know anything." Clément stepped forward. "He's just as scared as we are."

Louis rounded on him. "Stay out of this, Gosse."

"No." Steel in Clément's voice. "We're all in the same boat here. Fighting each other is exactly what the dokkaebi wants. We need to work together."

Louis laughed, harsh and bitter. "Work together? With a freak who can shoot fire and a coward who hides behind books?" He gestured around. "Look at this place. Look at what happened. The strong survive. The weak die. That's the rule."

"And who decides who's weak?" Baptiste asked quietly.

"I do."

Tension suffocating. The class was split. Not just into factions, but into individuals, each too scared to trust anyone else. The jocks stood behind Louis and Augustin. The thinkers clustered around Clément and Baptiste. The girls formed a protective circle around the injured. And Joseph was alone.

He'd always been alone.

"You want to know what I know?" Joseph's voice low, almost inaudible. "Fine. I'll tell you."

He took a breath. Could feel the dokkaebi watching, its interest a tangible weight on his shoulders. If he revealed too much, he'd be labeled a Prophet. Hunted, used, discarded.

But if he revealed too little, Louis would kill him.

"This world—it's based on a novel. I read it. I know the scenarios. I know what's coming."

Silence.

Then Augustin laughed. "You're insane."

"Am I?" Joseph met his eyes. "Then explain the dokkaebi. Explain the monsters. Explain the magic." He held up his hand, a tiny spark flickering at his fingertips. "I didn't imagine this. I read about it."

"It doesn't matter." Louis's voice hard. "Whether you read it in a book or pulled it out of your ass, it doesn't matter. What matters is you have information, and you're keeping it to yourself."

"I'm not keeping—"

"You are." Louis grabbed Joseph by the collar. "You're hoarding it. Hiding it. While the rest of us die, you're standing there, playing hero with your little fire trick."

"I saved a child—"

"I don't care about a child!"

The punch came out of nowhere. Joseph's head snapped back, hit the ground, vision swimming. Louis stood over him, fists clenched, face twisted with rage.

"Tell us the next scenario. Tell us how to survive. Or I swear to God, I'll throw you to the next monster myself."

Joseph wiped blood from his lip. Looked up at Louis. For a moment, he wanted to tell him everything. The next scenario, the constellations, the probability—all of it.

But that wasn't how the story worked.

"If I tell you," Joseph said slowly, "you'll be marked. The dokkaebi will know. The constellations will know. You'll become a target."

"Better than dying here."

"No." Joseph got to his feet, swaying. "No, it's not."

Louis raised his fist again, but before he could strike, Clément stepped between them.

"Enough." His voice firm. "We're not animals. We're not going to beat information out of each other."

"Stay out of this, Gosse."

"No."

For a long moment, the two boys stared at each other. Then Louis lowered his fist.

"Fine." Voice dripping with contempt. "Keep your secrets, Escoda. But remember: when the next monster comes, I won't lift a finger to save you."

He turned and walked away, the jocks trailing behind him like loyal dogs.

Joseph watched them go, heart pounding. He'd survived this round.

But the next one...

He didn't know if he'd be so lucky.

---

The second wave came thirty minutes later.

By then, the class had organized. Louis and his group took the high ground on the mezzanine level, watching the entrances. Clément, Baptiste, Arthur, and Thomas set up a makeshift medical station in a ticket booth, treating the injured with scavenged supplies. The girls formed a perimeter around them, armed with whatever they could find: fire extinguishers, metal poles, broken glass.

Joseph sat apart, knees pulled to his chest, mind racing through the novel's plot.

The first scenario was meant to cull the weak. In the original story, Kim Dokja survived by hiding, using knowledge to avoid danger. But Joseph wasn't Kim Dokja. He didn't have the Fourth Wall. Didn't have omniscient perspective.

Just his memory.

And his memory was failing.

The tunnels rumbled. Low growl echoed, and then the ichthyosaurs came again—not the small ones from before. These were larger, bodies as long as buses, teeth the size of kitchen knives.

"Everyone, get back!" Thomas shouted.

Louis and his group didn't get back. They charged forward, weapons raised, bravado masking fear. Gabriel swung a pipe at the first monster's head. Crunch, but the creature didn't slow. Lunged, jaws closing around Gabriel's arm.

He screamed.

"Gabriel!" Malik grabbed him, pulled him back. Blood pouring, pooling on the tiles.

Louis didn't stop. Kept attacking, face a mask of fury. Augustin with him, and Axel, and Samuel. Fighting like demons, but not enough.

The monsters kept coming.

"We need to retreat!" Arthur yelled. "Fall back to the ticket booth!"

"Retreat?" Louis spat. "We don't retreat!"

"Then you die!"

The argument cut short by a roar. New monster emerged from the tunnel, larger than the rest. Eyes black, scales deep crimson red. Moved slowly, deliberately, gaze sweeping across the platform.

It was looking for something.

For someone.

Joseph felt its gaze settle on him.

"Shit," he whispered.

The monster charged.

Faster than anything its size had a right to. Tore through the platform, scattering jocks like bowling pins. Louis thrown aside, head cracking against a pillar. Augustin barely dodged, arm caught in the monster's path.

Then it was on top of Joseph.

"Run!" Clément shouted, but Joseph couldn't run. Legs frozen, mind blank. Raised his hands to trace a rune, but fingers shaking too much.

The monster's jaws opened.

And then a shape slammed into its side.

Baptiste Rualt hit the creature like a battering ram, rebar clutched in his hands. Drove it into the monster's flank. The creature roared, twisting to face him.

"Get him out of here!" Baptiste yelled.

Clément grabbed Joseph's arm, pulled him away. They ran, stumbling over debris, dodging bodies. Behind them, Baptiste fought the monster, movements desperate and fierce.

He lasted thirty seconds.

When Joseph looked back, Baptiste was on the ground, monster's claws pinning him down. Eyes wide, breath ragged.

"Don't just stand there!" Louis shouted, getting to his feet. "Do something!"

Joseph raised his hand. The rune. The symbol. Traced it in the air, pouring all his remaining magic into it.

The ground beneath the monster glowed.

A pillar of light erupted. The creature screeched, scales melting, body convulsing. Tried to escape, but the light held it, consumed it, until nothing left but ash.

Joseph collapsed.

When he opened his eyes, the platform was silent. Monsters gone. Survivors staring at him, faces a mix of awe, fear, and hatred.

And the dokkaebi was clapping.

"Bravo." Voice dripping with mockery. "What a performance. Truly, the constellations are impressed."

Joseph didn't answer. Couldn't.

He'd just killed a monster. Saved Baptiste. Proven he was useful.

But he'd also proven he was dangerous.

And in this world, dangerous people didn't survive for long.

---

The first scenario ended at dawn.

They emerged from the subway station into a city that wasn't a city anymore. Seoul in ruins. Buildings crumbling, windows shattered. Cars overturned, frames twisted. Smoke rising from distant fires, painting the sky shades of gray.

The dokkaebi appeared one last time, hovering above them.

"Congratulations, survivors. You've passed the first trial. But the next one will be harder. And the one after that, harder still. So rest now. Gather your strength. Because the Star Stream is watching, and it demands entertainment."

It vanished.

The class stood in silence, staring at the ruins.

Joseph looked at his companions. Louis nursing a broken arm, eyes filled with quiet rage. Augustin helping Gabriel, wound bandaged with torn fabric. Clément standing beside Baptiste, shoulders touching, faces pale. The girls huddled together, eyes red from crying.

They were all different now. The scenarios had changed them, broken them, reshaped them.

And Joseph knew it would only get worse.

"Where do we go now?" Marie's voice small.

Joseph looked at the horizon. Remembered the novel. Remembered the next scenario.

"We go forward. Together."

He didn't believe it. Wasn't sure anyone else did either.

But it was all they had.