Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The silence after the final blow was deafening. 

All the built-up emotions from the past week had finally come to punch her in the gut, and despite the peace they’d longed for, there was a hollow stillness that clung to her. Rumi felt the arena blur into motion, and her legs struggled to keep her body standing. She would have surely tipped over on the stage if she hadn't kept focus. 

Her eyes lingered over the crowd, analysing the people and double and triple checking for any longing for danger. However, that proved to be unnecessary. The crowd burst into a standing ovation, coming out of their longing trance. Hundreds of thousands had gathered at the hands of Gwi-ma. Although it was as though to them, it had never happened. The Saja boys were merely a new thing of the past. Something that created a new strength for Huntrix, to bond their everlasting connection to their fans. 

She felt hands wrap around her, squeezing her tightly; she was convinced she would suffocate. But, inevitably, she hugged back. She took comfort from her friends, hushing the anxiety that dug into her mind.

“I love you guys,” Zoey assured, a tenderness in her voice, although Rumi was sure she was on the brink of crying. Rumi paid no mind to it, enjoying the moment for what it was. 

And after a long and drawn-out moment of affection, they broke apart. The crowd's chanting drew back into her ears, whistling and an effortless encore. Rumi grabbed both of them, taking their final bow for a while. They all took the vote on a long (and deserved) hiatus after the Idol Awards. Now that it was finally in front of them, it felt surreal. But that’s because it was.

They escorted themself off stage, holding their heads higher than when they stepped on.

Rumi let out an extensive sigh, letting her shoulders relax momentarily. She felt the exhaustion in her bones and was honestly ready to bid adieu to their idyllic lifestyle. Just for a little bit, though. One thing that remained constant was the ideas circulating through her brain, keeping her busy with outside distractions. To let it go was merely excruciating. But it was mandatory for Mira and Zoey’s sake, more importantly, hers.

The two of them skipped to their dressing room, the topic going back and forth between the fight and how stunning Mystery was beneath all the hair, which seemed to be a thousand times more shocking than all three combined expected. 

She dragged her feet behind them, creating a noticeable distance. She tuned herself in and out of the conversation, too focused on the whirl of her thoughts. If it wasn’t apparent on her face, an utmost sense of dread was plastered across her face. Her pupils dilated, and honestly, if someone asked the wrong question, she’s sure she wouldn’t be able to suck up the tears.

Mira was the one to break the formation, stopping in her tracks to face her. Rumi’s heart flounced as she looked around, questioning the source of the problem they were focused on.

“Rumi,” Mira said blankly, leaning towards a question rather than simply stating her name. She walked closer, analysing her face a little too closely. She kept her composure, subtly swallowing down the urge to freak out.

A broad and plastic smile spread across Rumi’s face, hoping that if she kept it there long enough, they would be reassured to keep walking and let her be content with sulking in the background.

“Ye-yeah?” She asked, taking a few steps back.

“Enough with the sulking, get excited!” Zoey encouraged, invading Rumi’s space. She placed her hands on either shoulder, a genuine grin on her lips. “We won the Idol Awards, we defeated Gwi-ma! That’s worth celebrating!” 

“And the Saja boys,” Mira added.

“ And the Saja boys.” Zoey pouted, “The world will miss a beauty like Mystery.”

Rumi rolled her eyes, brushing the other’s arms off. “Come on, guys, I’m just as excited as you are. Seriously.”

The other two looked at each other, making the unspoken decision not to mention anything else about it. Both shrugged it off, nodding in confirmation. 

“Okay,” Mira said, “No more secrets, Rumi, alright?”

The purple-haired hesitated, eyebrows narrowing at the question. She knew that was the least she owed them, especially after the big smack in the face today. Nevertheless, she hated lying to them, seeing the look of disappointment on their face—the fear when they saw her under the spotlight – nothing less than a demon.

She silently promised herself that she would never have to see that look again. 

Rumi let the air out of her lungs before muttering a small “Okay.” Which seemed to be good enough for them. They backed off, continuing their walk down the hall, which was full of stage management. They hadn’t seen Bobby yet, not since before the concert. There was no doubt he was somewhere in the crowd along with them. There came the confirmation that she had managed to let everyone down.

Especially him. Rumi looked down at the blade that she let weigh down her hand. It glistened a dull blue, and she picked it up to properly hold it. Feeling a pang of guilt for letting it drag behind her. She was aware she probably looked half-crazy coddling absolutely nothing. But she couldn’t let it disappear from view just yet. Her eyes welled up with the same annoying tears from earlier. 

I'm sorry, Jinu. 

She thought, although the words never left her mouth. She couldn’t bear to say it out loud. Getting choked up was sure to be a sight to see on her end. So, she let the words run on the tip of her tongue. 

Zoey was the first to speak up, “Rumi,” she whispered.

The sudden voice caught her off guard, causing her to drop the blade on the floor with a loud clang. However, no one else around them had much of a reaction. It withered out of view before she could pick it up, saving her the embarrassment.

“What?” She asked, holding herself with her arms.

Both of them cocked an eyebrow, leaning towards suspicion. Rumi didn’t bite, holding down the full story of the fight. They were too busy with the others; they weren’t sure what happened with Jinu. She never lied to them; she didn’t think there would be an appropriate time to bring it up.

‘Funny thing, guys, Jinu gave his soul to me and is in my sword! Surprise!’  She could only imagine the look on their faces, and there would be more questions than answers.

Her lips would be firmly shut – temporarily, anyway. She hadn’t yet devised a plan for her long list of problems. And she wouldn’t, there was no need to ruin their break before it had even begun. This was a slight problem for a later date. Besides, she had given them enough to worry about for a lifetime.

“...We were going to say put your sword away, but thanks.” Mira pursed her lips, “Also, don’t you think it grew a bit?”

“No.” Rumi hushed, “Must have been a trick of the light.”

The other thought on it for a few seconds longer, although she silently begged that she wouldn’t . And, for the love of God, they would walk to their dressing room. 

Rumi insisted, “Let’s just go home, okay? Then we can get food, and…” 

“Go to the bathhouse ?” Zoey gleamed; if you looked close enough, you would see the twinkles in her eyes. 

“Go to the bathhouse!” Mira repeated, walking faster. “And you can’t say no, Rumi, you promised.”

She didn’t respond to defend herself. Of course, there was no reason to decline the offer. Not anymore, the thing that was holding her back had been brought to the light. But there was her anxiety involving it—the pressure to fully open herself toward what she had hidden from the two for so long. 

Rumi wasn’t dumb; she knew there would always be a constant twinge of discomfort. Suppose she got too aggressive or breathed the wrong way. She wasn’t ready to carry that burden, but was forced to. Ultimately, it was time for her to learn to be comfortable with that.

Finally, they made their way back to their separate dressing rooms. Splitting off from each other to change into their outside clothing. They waved each other goodbye, closing their doors one by one.

Rumi took one last look down the hall before closing the door behind her. 

She felt the numbness in her legs. Her knees buckled, sliding down onto the floor. For the moment passing, she could be alone with everything and thereafter. She did the best she could manage by controlling her breathing, but she was having difficulty with the shaking after every exhale. 

“It's fine, Rumi,” She comforted herself, murmuring. 

She hated how personal she was taking this. Her voice echoed in her head. How desperate she sounded, pleading with him not to go. That was what they had, so very real. However, there was no chance to prove that. 

There never would be.

Rumi beckoned her blade to come forth yet again, watching it appear before her. She reached out with shaky hands to grab it and gently set it in her lap. The metal was no longer cold like she had grown familiar with. Instead, it became warm, though it had not been sun-kissed. There was a deep warmth, as though it had stricken life.

It still kept its glow, the colourful interior dancing around. Her hands hovered just above the blade, hesitantly. She released a low puff of air and grazed her hand across the weapon. The heat seeped into her, gentle, chasing the cold from her fingertips. As she threaded her hand across, a thin light bloomed beneath her skin, following as she traced the edge. It shimmered softly—alive, following her movement.

“Jinu,” She said softly, her breathing pattern beginning to steady.

She was offered a grace despite her inability to be next to him: to enjoy his every introspection, the feeling of his hand intertwined with hers. Unfortunately, this had to be the alternative, and she hated it.

Rumi questioned, “Why did you do this?” And as long as she waited for an answer, just for the opportunity to hear his voice, it never came. 

A drop of water fell onto the sword, her vision going blurry. The calmness she worked on crumbled yet again. She felt foolish for crying, but the tears dripped down her face and into her lap. A hand clasped over her mouth, preventing the sound of sobbing from bouncing off into any of the girls’ rooms. They weren’t going to understand; she had managed to convince herself. All she had were remnants of what once was, which wasn’t good enough.

She closed her eyes, thinking over the previous weeks. Placing herself in the memories again, hoping they could console her enough to get off the floor. She couldn’t stay here forever, that’s for sure. 

She held onto the doorknob, pulling herself up slowly. Working through the blubbering, she let the sword vanish from view again. She walked over to the mirror, sniffing up all the ugly. She removed her jacket, subconsciously moving to avoid her eyes in the mirror. She threw on an old shirt and took off her pants to put on some comfortable leggings. 

There, after a few minutes, came the knock on her door.

“Rumi!” Mira and Zoey chirped, “You ready?”

Rumi wiped away the tears still lingering on her cheeks, cleaning up some of the noticeable mascara that had lost its position on her eyelashes. 

“Yeah!” She called out, a noticeable rasp in her voice. “Coming, just… hold your horses.” Her voice trailed off, giving herself one last look in the mirror.

God, was she pathetic.

She trudged over, giving herself a few seconds to practice her poker face before whipping the door open to reveal herself to the two.

“Couch time?” She asked.

“What else?”

The three orcs flew out of the arena, racing each other back to their shared home. They saw plenty of fans on the street and gave all of them a warm greeting. Something that would never change is their undeniable love for each of their supporters. It almost convinced them to release the next song when they got home, giving each other multiple reminders to cut some slack. 

Finding solace within their home wiped all other considerations out of the window, collectively taking in the presence of their resident. Never mind taking off their shoes, they sprawled out, sinking into the furniture. 

There was a peaceful silence amongst them, realising how long it had been since they felt that way. Rumi was sure the other two were taking the time to bask in their thoughts as much as she was. 

A few beats later, she opened her mouth to speak, “Look, guys–”

“No, Rumi,” Mira interrupted. I know what you’ll say. And we both want to say we’re sorry.”

Rumi was caught off guard but took the initiative to counter the apology. “No, it’s fine–”

“But it’s not fine!” Zoey affirmed, “We didn’t even bother to hear you out, we just…abandoned you.”

Once more, the previous conversation flashed through her ears. She found her body tensing up, a sudden adrenaline rush pumping through her veins. It wasn’t out of character to recognise the disbelief when they chose to turn their weapons toward her. The deceit extends from the same coin. However, their reasoning was recognised. 

“It’s fine.” She repeated, eyes darting between the two. “I’m serious, I forgive you guys. I understand, I wasn’t perfect either.”

Mira rolled her eyes. “Girl, you were magnificent. You saved the world.”

Rumi shook her head. “ We saved the world.”

“Of course we did!” Zoey chirped, sitting up from her previous position. “We’re Huntrix, and there’s no stopping that.”

They all nodded in agreement, shifting the tone of the room. There was a moment of pause before Zoey continued, “Although I will miss competing with the Saja boys. It was kinda fun.”

Mira sat up, shooting her a look of confusion. “Getting possessed by a demon boy band was fun?”

“I mean, before that. It wasn’t all that bad.” Zoey sighed.

The other scoffed in response, getting up to sit next to Rumi, wrapping a tight arm around her. “ Anyway, we still love you. Half-demon or not, okay?”

The purple-haired nodded to the words, resting her head on Mira’s shoulder. “I love you guys, too.”

“That's Good,” Mira replied. You will be telling us everything. It’s mandatory.”

Rumi chuckled in agreement, causing a long and dramatic groan from Zoey.

“Ugh, you’re so pushy.” The black-haired girl clapped her hands together, standing up. “Okay! Let’s enjoy our vacation. We are going to the bathhouse.”

“Yes, we are!” Mira agreed, nudging Rumi off to stand up after Zoey. 

From there, they bantered about how relaxing and reassuring a bathhouse was and how they felt inexplicably satisfied with their long list of experiences. 

They rushed to the door, turning at the realisation she hadn’t followed behind them.

Rumi stood planted, looking around the room. “Uh, I’ll catch up. I’m not far behind.”

The other two squinted their eyes, scanning her face for any sense of a lie.

“Go!” She insisted, “If I’m lying… I’ll buy dinner for a week, okay?”

“You better!” With that, they were gone, closing the door behind them. 

Yet again, the room demanded quiet. The only thing keeping her company was the low sound of air wafting through the fan. She looked out the window, leaning against the glass to grant herself a view of Seoul. The city always seemed much brighter at night, lighting up their living room from the signs and shops that remained open.

She escorted herself out of the apartment, too, but making one more stop, she climbed up to the roof. There, she saw the night sky in full view, painted with stars and a bright, full moon stuck in the middle. 

She sat down, examining the more plausible view of the town below her. Something in particular caught her eye, although she wasn’t sure what it was. It kept her bound there, despite knowing that Mira and Zoey would quite literally kill her when she got home. Rumi was sure they’d understand; it would take a little more effort to force her in front of them in such a vulnerable position.

She would consider it. For now, she remained where she was seated. Enjoying the fresh air she was getting, especially from so high up. She found herself waiting for something, like there was anything other than herself.

The problem was that she felt the lingering presence of someone else. Someone familiar. She twisted her neck, looking from all sides. Assuring that, if she looked fast enough, there would be someone waiting for her. Maybe he would be waiting for her. And it was no surprise when she was proved wrong. Her eyes narrowed, facing back in front of her.

And yet, it still lingered, which was no surprise considering the number of buildings behind her. Still, she couldn’t escape the feeling that someone was watching her. 

Rumi knew she would have to confess to this issue of hers eventually. She weighed the options in her head, considering whether the better option was to keep this to herself. Who was she kidding? It had to be; she knew that if she fessed up, there would be the chance they would twist her into getting rid of the blade altogether. 

But she, herself knew she wasn’t prepared for that – honesty be damned. She made the executive decision herself, but that was it for her; no more lies. 

The suspense of another presence turned into consolation—a reassurance. Knowing she did not need to panic, she relaxed, basking in the sounds and enjoying the night in all its glory. 

Well, maybe just one.

Chapter Text

Needless to say, Rumi was buying dinner.

Zoey and Mira returned to find her sitting on the roof, which she hadn't realized until they sneaked up behind her. She gratefully chewed them out for their attempted murder. 

Neither mentioned that she ditched them out of nowhere, but there was no decline when she asked them where they would prefer to eat tonight. Though there was disappointment, it wasn't out of character. Fortunately, they had gotten used to it. They knew she would come around when she was ready. 

The question of 'when' wasn't an exact answer.

All three gathered around their small table in the living room, a stack of snacks placed delicately on top of one another. Rumi gently pulled back some of the tower, looking for some of the real food they got. Despite the opportunity to live lavishly, they did not use it to their advantage. A quick stop at the convenience store prevailed at a five-star Michelin.

She reached for a container of Kimbap, pulling back the lid to take a piece of the roll. The seaweed was caught under the light, and taking a bite, the soft rice mingled with the crunch of the radish and the sweetness of the bulgogi. A faint aroma lingered as she chewed as if the taste was something to hold onto. 

She didn't realize a conversation had sparked; she was enjoying the food. Given their busy schedules these past weeks, it had been a while since they all were able to gather and eat together. Rumi bathed in a slight feeling of nostalgia. 

“So… how long were you sitting up there?” Mari popped the question. 

Rumi put her chewing to a stop, hesitant to answer the question because she couldn't tell. She looked at the small clock across the room, making out the number '10:43', surprised at how late the night turned out.

She hummed out an answer, “A couple of hours? I was enjoying the scenery.”

“But… we see Seoul all the time?” Zoey piped in, crunching on a handful of chips.

“Well, it's more peaceful on the roof.”

She popped another roll into her mouth, hoping the topic would come to a stop. Was it wrong to seek quietude in the place where she first talked to Jinu? Probably, but she could assure them it was better than sitting in a corner talking to her sword. 

“Uh-huh, well, we're just worried, y'know?” The black-haired replied, “You know, after today, it's just been…”

Rumi trailed her eyes off the table, fully tuned into the conversation even if she refused to. Her fingers, which she realized had been absently tearing at the corner of a napkin, paused mid-motion. She pressed the pad of her thumb into her palm, steadying a twitch of frustration she could feel building between her ribs. Zoey paused her sentence, tentative about continuing. The other tried to soften it with a shrug, even half of a smile—but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

“Why do you guys keep checking on me?” She wondered, a chuckle in her voice. "You're treating me like I'm crazy."

“That's not it.” Mira defended, “The Idol Awards just happened, we're just making sure you know we're here if you want to…talk.”

Rumi shook her head at the offer, pushing the food container away from her and grabbing hold of a bag of gummies. “I'll let you know.” 

The conversation fell short after that, with the occasional giggle at a joke or something under that umbrella. But making sure not to speak about anything heavy worked nerves even without them trying like they had to try to avoid the bigger things. 

She concluded she no longer could work herself up to an appetite, leaning back against an armchair. Sitting quietly, she waited patiently for the others to finish eating, keeping busy with the thought of elsewhere.

When she noticed the plates had been successfully cleaned off, she stood up, offering her hand for the dishes.

“I got it,” Rumi insisted, speaking softer rather than demanding.

Of course, neither of them put up a fight. The worst thing about living in a house was the house of two other people, specifically,  the amount of plates and silverware that could pile up in the sink. They both followed her movement, standing on their own two feet. 

“You guys get some rest; I'm sure you're exhausted.” Rumi ushered them off, swaying her hand toward their room. “I'll see you guys tomorrow?”

On cue, Zoey let out a long, exaggerated yawn, followed by Mira in unison. As a result, all three of them let out a brief laugh.

“Okay, fine,” Zoey concluded, reaching down to pick up a few snack bags. “G'night, guys!”

The other two shuffled back into their rooms, closing the doors behind them with a subtle click of the locks and leaving Rumi to bathe herself in silence. The house had fallen steadily yet again, reaching more into an awkward pause than a comfort. It felt hollow like something was misplaced. She walked over to the light, flicking it off, letting the area fall into a dark abyss. Still, the sounds of traffic and the light buzz of the fridge in the kitchen prevented a deafening undertone. 

She made her way there, not bothering to turn on the lights, dumping the remainder of the dishes. She turned on the faucet, water rushing out in a steady stream. Warm water soaked her hands as she plunged them into the now-soapy sink. The clink of glass and the faint smell of lemon filled the leftover quiet.

Rumi scrubbed softer, tracing her fingers over each plate cautiously. 

She struggled with the desire to put her mind elsewhere, hoping for a well-placed distraction to prevent her from the reality of the situation. There came a ritual she had managed to get used to, expecting any particular second for a tiger and a bird to go from the ground. She awaited that letter, feeling quite antsy from the anticipation of nothing.

She scoffed, in a certain disbelief with herself. There was the understanding that she desperately needed to get out of her head, despite only losing him less than 24 hours ago. She could tell this would inevitably lead her down a long path of mourning. And, sorry, but she had little to no time for that.

The soap made her fingers slick, and forcing the sponge against the dish a little too hard, it slipped out of her grasp, knocking itself into the faucet. Spinning down into the bowl, however, it remains perfectly intact. She jumped back into her body, aligning her thoughts yet again. Needless to say, she gave up. Tossing the sponge and the misfits of utensils, she scrambled off toward her room.

She didn't bother changing clothes or doing little things like brushing her teeth. Rumi lay flat on her back, staring up to greet the blank ceiling, her heels dangling off the mattress. She pressed her hands across her face, dragging them down to her cheeks. 

“Just get over it, Rumi.” She assured herself, considering taking a pillow to suffocate herself with it.

Her phone buzzed with a fresh set of notifications, which she happily obliged, reaching over to pluck off the charger. One thing she could always confide in was social media; she took an interest in the news and endlessly binge-watched what was going on around her—it kept her focused on everyone but herself.

She scrolled down her timeline, quite out of touch with events that had appeared in recent weeks. Now was the perfect time to put herself back in the loop. Tapping on a small button at the bottom opened her section of mentions, which were good and plentiful after today's award ceremony. 

There were mixed emotions, some commenting on how excellent their final performance was and the mortification on the announcement of their hiatus, beckoning them to make their return soon.

'I wish.' She thought, shooting the consideration to the back of her mind.

She responded to a few questions here and there, reposting videos or fancams created by people at the concert. The talent within their community was plausible; sometimes, she found herself getting lost in the dozens of tagged videos of them. Especially the compilations that always gave her a laugh. And while she was scrolling, she found herself smiling at the love, taking in the support. She kept scrolling, keeping a rhythm, hoping nothing would catch up to her if she stayed in motion. One repost, one laugh at a time.

However, as much as she was looking to enjoy this quick binge, she managed to scroll past a post that stopped her like a deer in headlights. Her finger hovered over the screen, and the thumbnail was enough to make her stomach tie into a knot.

It dated back to their conjoined meet and greet, placed alongside the Saja boys. It was a zoomed-in vlog from one of the fans in the crowd, and fortunately for Rumi, the video auto-played, forcing her to relive the moment to its fullest. 

Behind the camera, you can hear an excited squeal. The video documents their day, how long it took them to secure the tickets, and what they planned on doing afterward. The video turns to face the vloggers' friends, who wave at it.

'Hi, vlog!' the girl exclaims, 'You'll never believe it—the Saja boys are here too!'

The phone moved up and down, as though nodding with whatever the person in front was saying.

'Uh-huh!' The other confirmed, 'I swear they are much more handsome in person .'

'Especially Jinu, right?' 

It panned across the room, giving a personal view of him sitting beside Rumi. They were bickering, of course, when weren't they ever? 

Even if it was annoying at the time, she knew she would give anything to hear his voice for a few minutes longer. She caught herself sighing absentmindedly, delaying a pause on the video and continuing to scroll.

The video continued, 'Oooh, the leaders are sitting next to each other!'

'What do you think they're talking about?'

'I don't know,' Cameragirl responded, 'leader stuff?'

'I don't know, either. My favorite ship, though.'

'Jisu, seriously?'

'Ah, don't upload that part.'

'No, I'm going to, and–'

Rumi cut the video short, clicking her phone off and practically throwing it off her bed. Today was a lesson that she would never be able to escape Jinu anywhere, especially on the internet. She's sure he'd be plastered all over the news if she turned on her TV.

She let out a defeated groan, grabbing the pillow on her chest and coddling it a tad too close.

She's sure that if he were here, he'd think it was hilarious that she was so caught up in a crush that she'd freak out at any instance of him. And he would speak with that sarcasm that would make him so punchable. But, when the dust settled, he'd soothe her in the same calm voice that he had always used with her. The one that would make it known that everything would be okay.

Ah, she's doing it again.

She would scramble into her brain tomorrow to find something else to do and think about. Tonight, though, she would feed into it just… one more time.

"If you insist," She murmured, reaching for her blade. And to no one's surprise, it appeared with a brief glow, falling onto the pillow.

“No, why do you insist on torturing me?” Rumi asked, picking up the sword to wave it around. I'm hoping it would knock some sense into the new Jinu-stricken blade. “You haven't even been gone for a day.”

Rumi paused, waiting a considerable time for a response. To no avail, she didn't waste her breath, 

continuing her monologue. “And I know you're probably laughing in whatever… chamber you put yourself in. But I'm not – because it's not funny.”

Her voice lowered into a hushed whisper, and she mind-mended the manners of her roommates next to her. She didn't want them to have a reason to bust in here and start pointing fingers. She had no excuse for the if and when; it seemed as wild as it sounded. She laid the weapon to her side, facing the window.

Her mouth twitched, withholding her from continuing. However, she had so much left to say, all the things she couldn't.

“I miss you already, " she confessed, readjusting her emotional support pillow. I don't know what I'm going to do.”

Her heart cried, even though the tears hadn't poured yet. Late at night, everything could get put on the table, and all secrets were between her and the four walls she locked herself in.

Rumi exhaled low, pressing deep into her mattress. Her chest rose and fell with her steady breathing. The glow of neon signage bled through the curtains, casting pinks and blues across her ceiling. Eventually, she was too lazy to keep talking aloud, but all she had left ran through the back of her head. She glanced at the sword, dim and still, yet heavy with existence. Not bringing herself to dismiss it out of view, content with letting it lie beside her. 

Her thoughts blurred at the edges and eventually stretched into nothing. Somewhere between one blink and the next, the shine of the city lights lost itself to a low hum. The bed had vanished from view, and she was weightless, suspended in complete warmth and harmony. 

She felt her heartbeat pulsating through her ears. The next time she recognized her surroundings, she found herself on her balcony. The wind blew, swaying her hair. Though she could not catch the breeze, it was quiet despite the strength pulling her.

The first conclusion she reached was that her body had managed to shuffle its way out of the hospitality of her mattress. So, she naturally turned around to head back inside. Upon realizing this, there was nothing to go back to. It was a blank canvas behind her, and the only environment was the one she had initially faced. It was nighttime, just as before, and she closed her eyes.

Panic shot through her body. She looked around for a secret door or window through which she could find her way.

A sound cue played from behind her, and she whipped around to see a familiar blue mammal peaking out from the floor, along with a black crow perched on top of its head. Her eyes widened, inching closer to them without a second to spare.

“Tiger?”

Of course, neither of them spoke back. Which didn't bother Rumi; the sight of them made her drop to her knees and reach out to pet the familiar friend.

“Why are you here?" Rumi questioned, pausing in realization. "Is he…?”

Tiger stuck his tongue out to reveal a blue letter, painted with drool and the excess dripping down his tongue. Some words were drawn across but weren't fresh enough to remain intact. She stretched her hand out, peeling it off to unfold it. A smiley face was drawn on with a sad excuse of a Sharpie and a singular word.

'Bridge.'

Her heart leaped out of her body in a sporadic pattern. Looking out onto the ground below, there remained the ground. A little walk away, the bridge awaited her.

It was too good to be true; it had to be. Rumi glanced back and forth between the environment and the tiger boring into her soul. Wondering if she was gonna stop staring and go.

Rumi blew out a puff of air, “If this is a set-up…”

She lost her words, not sure what she would end up doing. Probably cry about it?

Not that she'd say it out loud, but she hopped over the balcony due to the lack of stairs to go down, landing without a wince. Shameful to admit, but she practically sprinted down the sidewalk. 

The bridge looked over Seoul, too. Although there didn't seem to be much activity, she had familiarised herself with all the years of towering over the city. 

Tiger and Bird didn't follow behind her, leaving her alone. This drew her suspicion; perhaps this was her mind playing a sick excuse of a prank. Mocking her with her torment, technically, she would just be laughing in her own face.

Looking around, it seemed dead silent. There were no sudden movements or any recognition that someone else was there. She reached the edge of the bridge, shoes tapping alongside the concrete. The sound had nowhere to go; every step echoed back at her twice. The air was still but not calm. It pressed from all sides, heavy and concealing. 

The bridge looked the same as it always had – familiar metal railings, the chipping in the paint near the midpoint – but it felt wrong, as though someone had come in to paint over memories, expecting her not to notice. The pause in noise wasn't real; it was staged. Fabricated. 

Her palms were clammy, and her breath caught in her throat for an unexplained reason. The wind had disappeared completely; it was merely her and the outside. She was alone, but she didn't feel like it.

“Jinu?” Rumi signaled, whipping around to see the brink of nothing. Her head tilted, lost in confusion. A fog built-in, low and crawling across the ground, bleeding from the bridge's other end.

“Good touch, right?”

A familiar voice spoke behind her, lacking seriousness, just the way she'd see coming from a certain someone. Rumi turned her body, almost losing her footing from how close he was to her. She ushered herself back on the railing, taking a moment to recognise that there wasn't a six-foot monster in front of her.

But when she returned to the present, she saw him live and in living color. He wore his hoodie and denim slacks, as she remembered him when they first met at this bridge. He was not glowing nor ghostly; he was a complete version of himself. He stood there, a warm and greeting smile on his face. His eyes softened with an extensive warmth behind them, a sense of relief.

“Jinu.” She breathed out, letting her body ease up.

“Rumi.”

Her name melted on his tongue, honey-like – slow, tender, and far too gentle for someone who wasn't even supposed to be standing there. Almost in a way, though he hadn't said it in years, he yearned to repeat it.

She blinked a few times, wondering if he would vanish after a few moments. And that proved false. He watched her, waiting for another reaction. There, she reached her hand out, attempting to touch him. Just for confirmation, he was real and here, standing with her. Despite this, he pulled away before she could lay a finger on his arm, taking a few steps back.

“Ah, no." Jinu declined, with an apologetic undertone. "The dream would end.”

Rumi pulled her hand back, wiping it on the backside of her sweatpants, “But, this is my dream? It's fine, I just–”

A small, crooked smile appeared on his face. “Well, I wouldn't call it a dream. Consider it a projection.”

“Projection?”

Jinu's eyebrow cocked up, questioning her lack of knowledge. “Yeah, you know? Astral? In an easier sense, we're in your sword.”

She conjured up his words in her head, putting them together in a way that would make sense. “So, you're not real?”

The other paused for a moment, looking for a suitable answer. “I mean, does it matter?” He questioned.

Her lips parted, looking like she had much more to share with him – maybe a hundred things – but nothing could make it past her throat. She looked down instead, the bridge suddenly feeling much smaller, like it couldn't hold them or the weight between them.

“It does – or – did to me.” Rumi sighed, shivering. Her hands curled into the hems of her sweatshirt, feeling herself rock back and forth. 

He caught onto her words, “Did?” He asked.

“You're dead, aren't you?” She glanced up, looking him square in the eyes—a spread of annoyance on her face. However, remaining the opposite of him, his eyes softened, and words caught him by surprise.

He chuckled awkwardly, backing down. “It almost sounds like you're mad at me.”

"You left me, Jinu." She snapped, a crack in the voice. "You left me, and I have nothing –"

Her once-collected expression fell short, and she sighed, working on getting back together. 

Unfortunately, she had been crying all day and hadn't taken the time to prepare herself for a situation like this. No one gave her the warning that she'd be placed back in front of the person who gave their life to her. No apology was needed, but it was an emotional moment.

He waited patiently for her to continue her banter, letting her get all her emotions out on the table before uttering another word.

"You saved me," Rumi rephrased, "And now I have to live with that; it's a curse."

The black-haired blinked, confused by her statement. 

"It's not a curse."

She squinted her eyes, wondering what the punchline would be afterward. A few beats later, he picked up on the previous opinion.

"It's a promise, Rumi," Jinu insisted, reaching out to grab her hand and retreating, remembering his own rule. He continued, "I'm not gone, okay? I'll carry you through the bad like you helped me."

Here came the tears; she didn't realize until a generous amount dripped down her face. She wasn't even aware she could cry in a dream or an 'astral projection.' She found a way to make it possible. 

She found comfort within herself, hugging herself tightly to substitute for a hug from the other. "But I didn't ask for this." Rumi wept, "I just wanted you ."

He smiled, soft and sad. "I know.

They stood there, basking in their conversation. Neither of them made another move to talk, the tension so wide you could cut it. There was nothing else but the ache in either of their hearts, the disappointment that this would soon end. They didn't know what was appropriate to talk about then, not wanting to tread over any line.

Rumi wiped her tears on the sleeve of her shirt. "I was supposed to hate you."

Jinu gave a half-effort shrug, "Not too late to."

"You don't think?"

"No," he settled, "But I'll still be here."

She took a step forward, but not too much for comfort. Not enough to reach Jinu or end the dream.

He left something on his tongue, questioning when to bring it to the table. "Look, Rumi, this place… wasn't cut out for two. It can't hold for long." 

"What?" She asked, her questioning coming out much more desperate than intended.

Promptly, the bridge trembled underneath them. The streetlight across the way was flickering, giving their final warning, suggesting the removal.

"It's not forever," Jinu piped in, "Tomorrow. I'll see you tomorrow."

She was left disheveled, more questions popping into her head on the how, what, and why. She figured those wouldn't get answered, though, not at this moment anyway. Rumi wanted to beg and plead for him not to leave her again. But the decision was made for them. And she had only a few more whiles before everything came crashing down at their feet.

"Promise?" She questioned.

"Always."

The world came to a tilt, although she assumed she was the only one who could feel it. Her knees gave ever so slightly. The light around her dimmed, and she felt herself slipping out of consciousness. Her breath hitched, and her fingertips buzzed as the blood rushed to her head. Before she could get another word out, her knees buckled completely, her vision going black before she managed to hit the ground.

Her body woke up with a shock, her head beating a drumming rhythm. Her lungs burned, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her hands clawed at the blanket, thrashing around her legs, pulling it off. The sun now barged into her room, greeting her with a warm light. The only reminder was that time had passed since last night.

She looked around her, thrashing herself out of bed. However, to her demise, it was left the same as before—no Tiger, no Bird, and especially no Jinu.

'A dream,' She breathed, 'It was a dream.'

Wow, she was losing it. Reaching up to grab her face, patting the sides, she could feel the residue of tears staining her cheeks, wiping the rest off. 

Never mind that she opened the curtains to reveal her neighborhood, looking to spot the bridge she had stood on last night. It didn't tremble, nor did the streetlights begin to flicker, confirming her suspicion.

She wasn't too confident about what time of day it was, seeing as she had tossed her phone to the side in a fit of alarm. Although she could smell the scent of bacon wafting through the vents, she could make her assumptions.

Rumi shuffled out of the room, ecstatic to see a living, breathing, and ysical person. She almost considered jumping into Zoey and Mira's arms, but she rested her breathing, keeping it steady, no matter how on edge she felt.

"Good morning," she said with a warm smile. The extra voice caused the other two to turn around and give a peachy grin.

"Hi, Rumi!" Zoey greeted, "We made breakfast. Sit, sit."

Which Rumi happily did, grabbing a seat at the dining table. "Aw, you guys didn't have to do that." She replied.

"Of course we did," Mari defended, "We haven't had breakfast together in a while."

Rumi let the room's warmth settle around her – the clattering of plates, Mira complaining when the butter accidentally hit the floor, Zoey apologizing excessively for letting the butter hit the floor. In the morning, their apartment felt softer. She took a bite of her toast, memorizing the ordinary hum of it all.

Under the table, her hand rested on her thigh, thumb absently tracing circles where a hilt used to be. She dulled out the ache with chatter, pushing whatever' projection' she had witnessed to the back of her mind. Not now, but she will figure it out later. She indulged in the normalcy, continuing it through the day. At the moment, it would be considered enough.

"Hey," Mira barged in, nudging her arm. "Don't zone out yet; we must plan our day."

Rumi smiled in response, reaching for her cup of coffee. Eyes briefly closed against the steam.

However, when she opened them, she could swear—just for a split-second—she could spot another presence in the room, slipping quietly into the space between her breaths. Instead, she tossed it over her shoulder, suggesting what activities they wanted to complete today.

Yeah, normalcy. It would have to be enough for now.

Chapter Text

To no one's surprise, the world kept spinning.

All three found that spending their day alongside each other in the city would be a way to put yesterday's trouble behind them. Naturally, they gave themselves little time to sit down and grieve. Instead, they put all their emotions into a shopping bag, enjoying the stalls and miniature markets in the city's heart, splurging on whatever they could plant their eyes. 

They all put their phones on silent, putting their career worries aside. They were confident in the idea of 'figuring it out' later. So, if their company building caught fire, they would wait.

Neither of them could decide on one activity, so they spent time doing everything together, starting with an arcade a little way down the road. It was wedged between a coffee shop and a corner market; listening close enough, you could pick up the soft buzz of the large title sign. Walking inside, the air was thick with the scent of burnt popcorn, mystery soda, and static from overrun games. 

Rows of games lined the walls; screens lit up with pixelated explosions. The floor thudded occasionally, courtesy of the Dance, Dance, Revolution lingering somewhere in the back. The place was alive – messy, loud, and too warm.

It was perfect.

All three gathered around in different sections of the building, indulging in miniature games, taking pleasure in the simplicity of skeeball and the thrill of light-gun games. They managed to squeeze themselves into the small booths, battling zombies, aliens, and whatever trouble they had landed in. Fortunately for them, due to their time battling demons, their aim was not difficult.

Rumi, too, found herself indulging fairly well in each portion of the games they played. She kept her eye on the reward, racing towards a stuffed animal on the high shelf at the prize corner. She screamed and flinched every time one of the monsters got too close to the screen. Due to the lack of space, she was more up close and personal, staring death right in its face.

They were well into the level of a zombie-apocalypse-themed game, clenching onto either gun for dear life. Picking up the others' slack if one failed to pay attention was a well-working method, and it put them to face the final boss.

A flicker of the screen showed them their current score before diving them into a swarm within the city. Immediately, their eyes centered on the screen, all other distractions shoved away.

"High score!" Everyone chirped, pressing their fingers against the trigger, the game lighting up with bullets. The plastic guns rattled in their hands as waves of mobs poured in from every corner of the screen. Then, in the distance, a faint growl shook the screen. The screen shuddered out of fear, and only then did the head zombie make its entrance.

He was massive—a hybrid of limbs and pure static. He dragged a rusted sword across the pavement, making everyone aware of his arrival.

"Okay, guys," Zoey shouted over the roar, "We're almost done! Don't die–"

They shot in formation, everyone barking out different directions to each other. Rumi closed in on him, eyes glued to the screen as bullets pierced through the filthy creature. He took significant damage, growing angrier as the minutes passed. It let out a low grumble, stomping over to get a singular hint from Rumi. 

Her avatar drilled forward, prevailing in the heat of battle. Neither she nor her pixelated version would be satisfied with the loss of this, not when they had come so far.

Her hand began to tighten on the plastic gun, uncomfortable with how long she had clutched the trigger. And yet, the best part was that they were in sync. Everything outside the game blurred, flashing lights, the sound of tokens, all drowned out by the glowing chaos in front of her – cracked chaos in the middle of the street. Rumi narrowed her eyes, tracking its movements before firing.

" Rumi ."

Her name slipped into her ear, breathing against her skin. It was a whisper; she would have missed it if she weren't listening. She turned her head to either girl, trying to multitask her focus between the two.

"Yeah?" She replied to the call, in the same breath, shooting a zombie between its eyes.

Neither of them continued with a question, a drawn-out silence, until they finally glanced at her, subtly panicking over Rumi's gun grip.

"We didn't say anything," Zoey chimed in.

A confused look popped onto her face, focusing her eyes back onto the screen, although something stopped her from continuing. Her fingers were no longer steady, and the music that swelled from the game's soundtrack overthrew her, and the undead roared angrily. 

"Rumi."

Again, the voice snuck past the noise, a cold chill running up her spine. Her grip loosened, turning her head completely around to figure out the source of it. And yet, when she did, there was no one there, an empty arena in the middle of the arcade. She hesitated on the reload, losing focus on what was before her.

"Rumi! What are you doing?" That voice was unmistakable. No, later than a second, as she looked away, Mira barked at her from the left, the gun shaking erratically from the loss of control. Constant hits were taken before the boss lunged at the screen, bursting into red pixels. Their avatars dropped in sync, signaling their defeat.

"GAME OVER." The machine buzzed in mockery, blinking a cruel score across the screen.

"Oh, come on!" Zoey groaned, leaning back in the seat. "We were bout to win."

Both of them glanced over at Rumi, making a sorry attempt not to show the annoyance plastered over their face and waiting for her to explain herself or make a good enough excuse on why she got distracted.

Although they never got what they were looking for. Rumi remained staring off to the side, looking into space as she anticipated something she wasn't exactly sure of. But she took her loss. Getting up with a dreary sigh, not bothering to turn her head back to the girls remaining in their seats.

"Let's just go, alright?" Rumi asked, "We can go to the convenience store and get something to eat."

"Wait, but Rumi–" Mira started, but before she could get another word out, the other was already rushing out of the building.

She and Zoey looked at each other, eyebrows lowering in suspicion. Nevertheless, they rushed out of their seats to join their friend at the store.

Rumi walked a few steps in front of them, her hands jammed into the pockets of her jeans, speeding up in a panic. Something clenched inside her chest, and her breath shortened, fast and shallow, anxiety spiking, not to mention uncertainty. 

Reaching the convenience store, she burst through the doors, not looking at the people who turned their eyes with confusion. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, steady and white. This store carried simplicity, polished walls, and shelves stacked with colorful packaging, accompanied by the buzz of the fridges.

She wandered the aisles mindlessly, unsure of what she was looking for. Her eyes drifted over the rolls of Kimbap, Ramyeon, and other miniature snacks, but none registered for her to grab. 

Zoey and Mira hovered over her, keeping a close orbit. They remained silent but watched in case she needed anything, perhaps out of fear of what she would say to them.

She crouched near the drinks, hand reaching out on autopilot. However, her body had forced her to stop. A tremor shot up her body, almost buckling her knees to the floor. The glass door blurred, and her vision wobbled. Heat pounded in her head despite her cold skin. Her fingers slipped from the bottle she grabbed, letting the door close abruptly.

"Rumi…?" Zoey questioned behind her.

Rumi's chest squeezed, not new but never not terrifying. It felt like her lungs had begun to close in on themselves like something was pressing inward from all sides. Her heartbeat thumped in her ears. There was a lack of air in the store and her throat. 

She grabbed the bottle, reopening the door to put it back on the rack. Pulling herself up by the handle, she caught her body struggling to stand.

Looking around, the shelves and the store began to smudge and stretch into a canvas of nothing. The floor tilted too far to the right, and it didn't spin, more or less folding on itself.

She stumbled toward the exit, one arm brushing against a display that rattled in response. She was sure someone said something – Mira, Zoey, a stranger, she wasn't sure – but it came out muffled.

Each step felt like quicksand, her feet moving with a sluggish resilience. The bell above the door rang much louder than she was generally used to.

The sunlight struck her face, and she was sure she made it at least to the bench, but she found it too difficult to tell. It was too sudden, too real, and before she could tell, she could feel her body giving out. There was no cinematic fail nor a warning gasp to instruct her.

One arm reached out, attempting to break her fall, but missing. The sidewalk met her with an unflinching indifference.

A flash of voices followed, and she was sure she heard a scream. But they were already miles away. Her eyes did not close immediately, but she noticed her vision fading to black.

And for the second time in two days, the world let go.

—

The first thing Rumi noticed was the sky.

It had not been black or blue. It  was not the right color at all. Again, like last night, someone had snuck in through the cracks and painted midnight with the wrong shade of grey, forgetting the part of depth and structure. Besides that hiccup, the stars hung too low, suspended as stage lights, staring back at her as she obviously stared at them.

She blinked, adjusting her eyes. Turning her head to the side to face the glow of a far-off neon sign in the distance, she again felt a faint wind pass in her hair, quiet in a way that was always within her dreams. Her body had not been grounded; she did not feel concrete beneath her, but she now recognized that she was back on the balcony rooftop. 

A few feet away from her, she could paint the visual of a figure staring directly at her. It waited patiently as though it had anticipated her arrival. The same denim slacks hoodie, these features made it hard not to recognize who it was.

“Jinu…?”"She coughed out, her voice hoarse, coming out dry.

When she got a good look at him, she could see the expression on his face, caught somewhere between amusement and guilt as he watched. Rumi pushed herself up, careful not to be too rapid. She noticed that the world was still readjusting itself, spinning around her.

Despite this, she could see everything much more clearly, and if the presence of Jinu or the poorly illustrated sky did not make it obvious, she had wound herself up back in the sword. 

"Sorry, "Jinu greeted, but regardless of the apology, it didn't seem like he meant it.

He continued, “You weren't supposed to be here yet.”

She squinted in return, eyebrows pulling together as she studied him. More or less, waiting for him to elaborate just on what he meant. Her facial expression drew a blank, no returned sign of amusement.

The other took a few moments to respond, conjuring up what she was thinking. "It was an accident…kind of. I was trying to check on you.”

Her head tilted at this, wandering in a state of confusion. She chuckled, “Why would you need to check on me?” she asked, brushing her hair. " If you were bored, you could have started with that.”

Jinu shrugged, readjusting his position to sit directly beside her and giving a generous amount of space between them.

“Rumi, I'm inside your head,” He proclaimed, suggesting that she was telling more lies than truths. She wasn't too confident in how this new gig worked, him being trapped in her sword, meaning he could feel her thoughts and emotions somewhere along the way.

Rumi shook her head in response, “Then there's nothing to talk about.”

There was a brief pause. She didn't mean to be so harsh, but there was a good chance she was lying unconscious somewhere on the floor. So she had only a brief second for any idle chit-chat.

“Rumi, I'm not pressuring you." He brushed off, “End the dream then.”

“Jinu." She disputed, turning her body toward him. He didn't make eye contact with her, facing off into the distance. Her once straight face morphed into a slight frown.

"I didn't mean it like that. But Zoey and Mira-" She held her breath slightly. " They probably passed out in the middle of the street!”

A memory came into passing, his poker face breaking into a smile. “Of course you did. I felt it.”

She reached up to shove him, only backing her hand down when she recalled the details from yesterday's attempt. 

“That's not funny,” She defended.

"Kinda funny.”

Her skin crawled as she imagined herself in the position, only imagining the worry her friends might feel. She was sure she'd wake up in the hospital. And yet here she was, having a talk on the roof of their balcony with a dead? Friend? Rumi wasn't sure about those details; maybe a label no longer mattered.

Jinu noticed her silence, clearing his throat afterward, a weak attempt to shift over the shift in mood. He fumbled for a new topic to settle the remaining weight between them.

"Anyway… time moves slower here, I'm sure, " He offered, finally turning to face her. "So…you can stay longer?”

There was a hopeful edge to his voice, trying to pass it off as casual – really, it was a quiet ask—a reason to keep her closer for a little longer.

Rumi inhaled through her nose, 

“I don't know," She murmured, letting the sentence hang. “I don't want to…”

She trailed off, searching for a gentler way to explain her thoughts. It  was not that she didn't want to stay; rather, the opposite, she yearned to. But, she made the promise she would not endure his absence, let his mourning become a pattern in her life. All this was merely stalling, and she knew she'd get attached all over again if she kept coming back. Deep down, she wasn't sure she could keep that hope.

Still, she begged herself for some grace. Grieving was not something she liked—she'd prefer to skip that chapter entirely. Now, she was sitting in a dream with someone who should be gone. The dream tugged at her chest, leaning towards her temptation.

Jinu said nothing, but his expression softened, even as the faint trace of disappointment tugged at the corner of his mouth. He covered, letting a laugh patch it up.

"Wow, are we moving on already?" he clutched his chest in mock horror. “And I thought you liked me.”

“It's not that," Rumi defended, “but doesn't this feel crazy to you? Just a bit?”

In return, he hummed slightly, moving his hand up to scratch at his hair. “Well, yeah, but I don't think it's hit me yet." He settled.

She blinked her eyes away, picking at some grime on the brick surface. "I guess,” she settled.

"Hey," Jinu intercepted, “Let's not focus on that… Just a few minutes, alright? And then you can bail.”

He glanced at Rumi, eyes wide and searching, dilated like a hurt puppy. She couldn't help but feel bad, a chord being struck between her ribs.

She  didn't realize, but a smile spread on her face. “Few, no more, no less, "Rumi insisted.

Her arms were tucked loosely around her legs, pulling them closer to her chest. It always seemed dark, so the air kept a cool breeze. She wished dream-her would bother to bring a jacket, but she didn't have the energy to complain. There was a quiet hue, like the world had begun to hold its breath.

The streetlights shone down on the roof, creating a dim light for the two and lighting a steady path around them.

Questions she carried from yesterday seemed to disappear from her head; nothing came to mind, even if she tucked them in whichever vault for later. She decided that was a good thing, assuming this wouldn't be a good time to bombard him with a game of twenty-one questions. And still, despite forgetting her original questions, she couldn't help but give him a mild Q&A. 

"Did you know?" She quizzed, "That you were going to?"

Jinu tilted his head, "What? Die?" He asked.

Rumi shot him a flat look, "Obviously."

She rocked gently back and forth, the rough surface becoming too uncomfortable to sit on. The anticipation of Jinu's answer made her a little antsy, and she silently wished she could swallow the question down her throat again.

She thought to clarify: "You made the decision, I didn't even–" She broke off, "You didn't even know me."

Jinu leaned back on his hands, nodding in acknowledgment. He was quiet for an unbearable amount of time, too. Not tense, although he pondered on the question. When he finally settled on an answer, though, he sucked in a long and withheld breath through his teeth. 

"I did it because I wanted to be different," He confessed, a sheepish grin on his face, glancing over at Rumi, who didn't look satisfied with that answer. She debated on taking the risk and punching it off of him. "I was feeling epic ."

She waved him off with a lazy flick, "You're so full of yourself."

"Naturally."

Rumi didn't wait for a realistic answer; she assumed it would be better if she didn't know. Instead, choosing to bask in poorly designed stars.

Jinu, however, continued the conversation himself. "I don't think I'm dead, Rumi," He corrected, "I'm just not there."

She cocked an eyebrow, "So…dead?"

"I was already dead; my soul is just here and not out there." He explained, ushering his hands around the environment.

There was a brief urge in her chest to apologize. Express her guilt of having Jinu stuck in the lonely place of a sword. Which, by the looks of it, didn't have any significant change of scenery.

"Well, was it worth it?" She wondered.

He didn't find himself too confident in the answer, not just yet. Speaking as he only spent a day and a half within the domain. Giving a sluggish shrug, "I'm in a sword," Jinu said, "Better than you killing me. I can't complain."

"You got lucky," she assured herself, moving herself to begin standing on her own two feet. She took an extra moment to stretch her limbs, which had started to ache from the lack of movement. 

In the distance, covered between the clouds, lightning had pulsed, dimming the city and snapping the brightness back into focus. The lights blurred at the edge of her vision – colors warping, eventually bleeding out. The same streetlight by the bridge began to flicker in and out, hinting at the struggle to maintain the weight of Rumi's presence and deciding for her, unavoidably.

"I can't stay." She blurted out, "The world, it's–"

Above them, the sky cracked—not loudly, but she felt it—a pressure behind the ears, twisting in the dream's silence. The stars above them began to fizzle and pop, and light slowly disappeared from above them.

Jinu, too, stood up, examining the skyline – how everything slowly began to crumble due to the extra feet standing on it.

"It's fine," he reassured. Everything will go back to normal as soon as you leave."

Her fingers flexed at her sides, the same pressure in her chest slowly creeping in to carry her away.

"Yeah, I'd rather not pass out this time." Rumi insisted, reaching out her hand, fingertips lingering above the sleeve of Jinu's clothing. "Do you mind?"

"Promise to be gentle?" He jested, his voice soft – but the smile didn't reach his eyes. 

Rumi gave him a look but didn't argue. Her heart climbed into her throat. The world was softening, thinning out like a fog – this would merely be the final push.

"Hey," Her voice dropped to a low whisper, keeping it between them. "Work on your telepathic skills. You know, don't wanna make this a habit."

His eyes met hers one last time, a flicker of regret lying behind them. He held another quip on his tongue, something lighter. But it didn't come; instead, he surrendered. Shoulders dipped, holding comments for another time.

"See you tonight?" Jinu wondered.

She hesitated, parting her lips to begin agreeing, but the words never formed. She constantly worried about the consequences of doing this. Stepping into a realm she had no business diving into with more than one person if anything. The idea of returning made her anxious.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to say no.

"Maybe," Rumi determined, "You'll be the first to know."

Her hand pressed down on his shoulder, giving him no time to comment. As her fingertips made contact – barely a graze – something in the world gave out without sound or spectacle.

The rooftop lost shape, and her once firm legs no longer belonged to her. A hush swept through like a stage curtain. Her senses untethered one by one, thoughts slipping through their structure. It wasn't a feeling of being pulled under, more of being let go.

As quickly as her sight dimmed out, she was shot rapidly back awake. This time, lying down, and the convenience of having Mira and Zoey towering over her. They both were frantic, the black-haired one practically screeching into her phone for the police. Meanwhile, Mira monitored her, watching closely for any sign of movement. And when the time came, her eyes widened, dropping to her knees.

"Rumi?" She exclaimed, "Are you okay? Do you have a concussion?"

Before Rumi could answer, a set of fingers was thrown into her face.

"How many fingers am I holding up?!" Mira beckoned, though the question never got answered as her hands were quickly slapped away.

"Okay! Okay! I'm fine, guys. Chill!" Rumi said, looking up at Zoey. "Zoey, tell them not to worry, please."

"But you passed out?! No, you're going to the hospital; I don't care." Zoey protruded, attempting to go back to talking, but was quickly stopped when Rumi shot back up from the floor.

"There's nothing wrong! Zoey, please. Let's go."

She looked around, noticing the quietness of the city square. Many people had practically spun their necks to look at what was happening. People gasped and whispered; some even had their phones out, as it wasn't hard to miss Huntrix's leader on the floor. Her face had begun to heat up, and she suddenly felt the embarrassment crawling down her spine.

Zoey squinted at the request, still overly skeptical about ending the call. Rumi's face, however, read of bargaining, to which she couldn't help but give in. She whispered something to the dispatcher of a false alarm, shoving the phone back into her pocket.

Rumi was thrown back into the two's embrace, and they squeezed her tightly. She was almost convinced her eyes would pop out of her sockets.

"Guys," She said, forcing it out between breaths, "I can't…breathe."

"Sorry." Both of them said in unison, patting her back before backing up.

The purple girl dusted off her clothes, as well as shaking off any dust that had attached to her pant legs. She knew the two would be looking for an explanation of what happened, but she didn't seem to have an excuse lined up as to why she randomly fainted. She eyed back and forth between them and then to the crowd, which dispersed after spotting she was in good hands.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you guys," she started. It’s just…y’know…everything…”

She shifted on her feet, trying to ignore how her fingers still tingled; a familiar buzz shot through them. The other two didn't return the conversation, merely gawking at her, too taken aback to raise any other questions.

"I ruined our day. I'm sorry." Rumi apologized, rubbing her arm up and down.

Mira's eyes softened, sighing, "You didn't ruin anything, Rumi. We're just worried about you."

Zoey joined in with a quiet laugh, "Yeah, you know, Drama Queen, next time you just say you wanna go home."

Rumi gave a weak laugh in return, feeling the tension of her shoulders lighten. Still, the guilty feeling marched up and down in her chest. She tried to avoid it, but couldn't help but think this situation was her fault.

"Well…since you're offering?" She hinted.

"Right this way," Zoey said, ushering back in the opposite direction. "We'll hang out another time."

Quickly, all three fell into step with each other. And surprisingly, the walk home was quiet. Everyone was too busy conjuring up their theories on what the other was thinking. But they didn't ponder it too much to speak up, nor would they mention the purple-haired one calling out their once enemy's name before falling unconscious.

Rumi's mind unintentionally trailed off to Jinu; nowadays, it seems that's all she could think about. Her mind was quiet, so she could only assume he had other things to worry about rather than talking to her. 

Odd, considering he was basically inside her soul. But maybe it was a good thing, something to keep him busy inside the crevices of a sword. She was sure he would buzz around in her brain when he figured it out, conquering her thoughts and ideas. She just hoped he wouldn't know how much she regretted this.

Chapter Text

Today, they were in the city – or something that looked like it.

Rumi had the privilege of seeing this realm for its full demand. It bent to their will, taking them wherever they thought of going. She wasn’t aware that it could do that, but she figured there was a lot she had yet to learn. But, from what she could see, it stretched to be more than a rooftop or an endless sky. It had moods. Personality.

The streets were quiet, with no sudden movement or sound except for footsteps under her and Jinu’s feet. Streetlights shone above them, glowing a warm shade against the pavement. Old signs were posted amongst buildings, words fading from the wood. Storefronts that carried no interior, alongside the windows that held no reflection. 

Though there was no reason to complain, everything else resembled Seoul, more precisely, how Rumi imagined it. 

Jinu matched her footsteps, walking just beside her. He hadn’t spoken much since his first initial greeting, preferring to bask in the moment's silence. It wasn’t awkward, more so comfortable. They took the time to enjoy each other’s company and figured it was best at that. His head was lowered, paying attention to his feet against the concrete. His hood was down, however, allowing Rumi to see the expression plastered on his face.

His eyebrows and lips pressed together, showing every crease in his face, he seemed lost in his thoughts, whatever they may be. It almost seemed as though he was on the edge of worrying, like something was wrong or out of place.

And usually, such an expression would send Rumi into a side-by-side panic with him. Her eyes would dart around, anticipating a sharpness to cut through the stillness, and the familiar paranoia would subtly creep up her bones. Assuring her of the things destined to go wrong. 

But, not this time, they were alone. Completely and utterly alone. Moreover, Rumi knew it wasn’t real compared to the waking world. 

However, that didn’t factor into a comforting sensation, only a detachment from current fears. There was a silent agreement that if danger appeared before them, it wouldn’t look like danger.

There was a hush in the air, and Rumi didn’t mind the silence. After all, it was better than saying the wrong things. But someone had to speak first, and neither appeared ready to risk it. They continued walking straight ahead, in a step-by-step rhythm, letting the quiet pave their way. No corners, no turns. Just the unspoken agreement: as long as they kept moving, they wouldn’t have to be the ones to break it.

She did just that, keeping her eyes focused on the road and never glancing too long to the left or right of her. However, ever so often, her gaze would shift, wandering subtly. She pressed her lips together, conjuring up memories of her city. There were the little things she hadn’t noticed despite her many years in the city. To rephrase, some things that never existed. A Rumi-designed street sign accompanied an intersection that had not been present before. 

A few buildings ahead, the window reflected only the sky despite the two’s presence in front of it. Though Rumi decided it wasn’t the best time to point it out.

Her stomach churned, making her insides into butter. And she’s starting to take back the enjoyment of the silence; alternatively, she needs something to fill it to eliminate this gnawing feeling of delirium.

“Okay, crazy theory, right?” She started, halting in the middle of the road. 

At first, Jinu didn’t respond, taking a few more strides before fully turning his body to look at her directly. His face was curious, and his eyebrows were raised, anticipating her idea.

 “Hit me,” He replied.

“Doesn’t this place feel…off, to you?” She questioned, “Like – I don’t know – it looks fake?”

On cue, his gaze, too, swept around the area, scanning the buildings and storefronts for a camera tucked into a window or a curtain. His head tilted slightly, giving a lackluster attempt to catch the world at the wrong angle. But whatever he was looking for didn’t show itself. 

He gave up the search with a soft laugh, shoulders rising in an easy shrug. “Well, in a literal sense, I think this place is as fake as it gets.”

Rumi shook her head, “These are my dreams, my sword. I don’t remember conjuring up extra details.”

Every time she came here, the world appeared more solid, some standing ground. They were beyond the rooftops, now there were alleyways, coffee shops, a city resurrecting itself within the safety of her mind.

“That’s the crazy part about dreams, isn’t it?” Jinu questioned, “I don’t think it would be as interesting without a few loose screws.”

She gave a pitiful excuse of a smile – more muscle memory than emotion. It barely reached her eyes, enough to snuff out the uncomfortable feeling. Without another word, she turned to pick her feet up again, the soles of her shoes barely scraping the road as she walked. Jinu didn’t follow right away. His steps proceeded more slowly, lagging, not wanting to be unbearably suffocating.

The street curved slightly, then corrected itself, stretching into a finer line. However, there was a lack of character. No cracks were shown in the pavement, no gum to stick to Rumi’s shoe, and not even the familiar wind that used to blow past her ears.

One thing that caught her eye was a weathered poster clinging to the side of a brick wall. The ink has begun to fade at the edges, but she could make out the bright, flamboyant font and the bolded date: the year of Huntrix’s debut. It advertised the summer festival they’d performed at years ago, when the cheers were still new and the stage lights resembled magic.

She averted her eyes, breath shaking as she exhaled.

“Scratch that,” Rumi decided, “I thought the worst part of this would be forgetting. Now, I think it’s remembering too much.”

Jinu didn’t catch the weight of her words right away. He blinked, following the line of her gaze towards the brick wall. His eyes landed on the same poster – compared to the polished dream-city around them, it was but a relic amongst them.

“Oh, Huntrix, huh?” He wondered, “Bad memory?”

Rumi weighed the options of the question. “No, not really.” She replied, “It was just a lot to handle… the pressure.”

There was a pause between her words, letting memories pass by her. “I mean, we weren’t that good.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Jinu huffed, catching up to her pace, walking beside her again. “Huntrix? The group we had to compete with?”

“That's the one.” She nodded, “I mean, hey, we looked good.”

“And that’s all that matters?”

Rumi turned her head to him, looking over his face. “I mean, we trained for it.” A beat, and she cracked a smirk, eyes grazing over his figure. “The Saja Boys barely made it to two weeks.”

He scoffed, a crooked grin on his face. However, he did not attempt to disagree.

She kicked loose gravel on the ground, letting a rock roll down the pavement. “Not that it’s a bad thing. You got lucky, two performances, and you were our biggest competition.”

“It truly was an honor.” Jinu teased.

“You got lucky ,” Rumi reiterated, “I mean, for example, Saja barely talked and everyone loved him!”

“Yeah, I don’t think he ever will.” He let out a breath of a laugh.

In a perfect world, that sentence wouldn’t have meant anything. Rumi would’ve laughed it off, let the moment pass by untouched. They’d keep walking, let the city reshape around them, and she wouldn’t be stuck on how Jinu said it – like Baby still existed in the present tense. Like nothing changed.

But she heard it, loud and clear, and the words were almost deafening. She blinked, taken aback, and her steps slowed down once again. Her brain played it back, then again, and then a third time to make sure, reassuring her that she didn’t make up Jinu’s response.

‘He ever will .’

Not that he never did. Not that he never got the chance. No, he ever will.

Rumi halted, and it took Jinu a few seconds to notice the silence behind him. He turned around, wanting to ask a question, but he hesitated, deciding the scrunched-up look on her face said enough.

Her mood hadn’t turned sour yet – not fully – but her eyes narrowed, head angling. She remained silent, waiting for him to elaborate, or perhaps a confession would do just fine. There was a subtle look on the face, typically used on Zoey and Mira when waiting for them to explain themselves for specific actions.

Jinu’s eyes narrowed. “What?” He asked – still feigning ignorance, hoping to soften the blow.

“What do you mean, ‘he ever will?’” She tested.

He had caught himself off guard, opening his mouth, but words failed to make it out. There was a shift in the air, and he awkwardly shifted his footing. He made the short realization that he was now backed into a corner.

“Oh, you know,” He tried, forcing a dry and unnatural laugh this time. “I meant did. He never did. Like, ever. Back then.”

Rumi didn’t respond, a blank stare behind her eyes. Her arms folded across her chest, representing her thinned patience.

Jinu cleared his throat, looking amongst them for a quick exit. “I didn’t mean it like that, Rumi,” He insisted. “I was talking; it was a mistake.”

“Was it?” She wondered, “It sounded like you were pretty sure to me.”

“I…” He stumbled on his words again, his body tensed up. He avoided Rumi’s eye contact, glancing between his and her shoes.

The weight between them pressed down, the initial pressure. Rumi watched his movements closely, seeing the discomfort plastered all over him, and it would be a good time to mention his lack of a poker face. 

He cracked his knuckles, unsure what to do with his hands, soothing the anxiety he was forced to sit with at the table. 

“ Maybe ,” He settled, “I’ve seen–know–some things, okay? But that’s it. I don’t know any details, or when would have been the best time to tell you.”

Rumi’s eyebrow twitched. “Tell me now.”

Jinu's breath caught, a sharp intake that faltered before settling into a long, reluctant exhale. He stood there, waiting patiently for something to intervene – a crack in the dream, a glitch in the matrix. But no such luck. The world held steady, offering him no way out.

His lips parted, words clinging for dear life onto his throat, thick and stubborn. He hovered on the edge of a sentence, pleading for anything to say the hard part for him.

“When you sealed the Honmoon…” He started, “You didn’t get rid of everybody. Baby…Romance… They’re still alive, Rumi.”

The silence was thick enough that the sound of a pin could be intrusive. Rumi rooted herself in place, letting Jinu’s words dig their way into her chest. She hoped, just for a second, that this was one of his poorly timed jokes – that he’d crack a grin or laugh it off any moment now. But the absence of humor on his face said enough. He didn’t move either, mirroring her stillness, bracing for impact. 

Instead, she let out a loose fit of laughter, masking the rising panic clawing at her throat. It was the only sound she could trust herself to make, something to fill the space between the truth. Because while she’d been spending her nights with Jinu, trading words like soft weapons, two demons had been walking freely beneath Seoul’s lights.

Her stomach wrung out like a towel. Not at their existence, but the unknown that clung to it – what were they doing, where were they hiding, and what plans did they have? She had imagined she was at the end of it all. The Honmoon’s closing was the vision line, that she could finally step into some screwed-up version of normalcy. But that dream slowly dispersed, all because of the underlying secret.

Her feet moved without thought. A slow, nervous pace tugging her body back and forth. One hand pressed to her temple, the other clenched by her side. She forced herself to breathe through her nose, shallow and controlled, trying to keep her temperature steady, avoiding the act of fainting.

Fragments of Jinu’s words played like a broken record. She whispered them under her breath, pulling them apart and stitching them together in a new pattern, searching for a version that made sense, one that justified the silence. One that explained why he hadn’t thought to tell her in all their fragile conversations.

“You–” Rumi started, her voice sharp as she jabbed a finger towards him. “You knew this. And you waited? For what?”

Jinu flinched at her tone, surprisingly caught off guard by the sudden change in demeanor, but he held his ground. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” He defended, his jaw tightening. “You had a lot to handle already.”

She took a step forward. “You think that means I would be fine letting two demons walk around?” She hissed.

“Oh, so, what? I was the exception?” He contested. His lips curled downward, a flash of frustration crossing his face. 

“I never said you were.” Rumi settled, though her voice had lost the edge. It came out quieter than intended.

There was a beat of silence – just long enough for the anxiety to crawl back in and settle between her ribs. No matter how she turned it over in her head, the risks outweighed the hope. The possibility of more lives being lost because she chose to “let it slide” wasn’t something she could justify. As much as she wanted to believe in whole-hearted redemption, as she did Jinu, that grace couldn’t extend to others. Not the other four, not as far as she knew.

Even entertaining the idea made her feel the weight of betrayal, like she was turning her back on the people who had died at the hands of Gwi-ma. She couldn’t give herself up like that again, not when this whole thing is almost over, or already is.

There was a pit forming inside of her, threatening to pull her under. Because Jinu was looking at her with those same pleading eyes: soft, searching, hoping she’d make room for understanding.

But she’d made room once. And it nearly destroyed her.

“I have to get rid of them,” Rumi held firm. Her hand twitched, reaching toward Jinu, ready to end the dream. “I have to go–”

Without wasting another second, Jinu recoiled, pacing himself back to create a noticeable distance.

“No–what?” His tone cracked mid-word, “Rumi, wait–”

“They could kill people!” She snapped, voice rising with the panic she attempted to simmer down. “You know, they could. They have to be killed, Jinu.”

A twitch to Jinu’s jaw betrayed the tension rising behind his silence. “Why?”

“I just told you–” She started, but he cut in before she could get the rest out.

“No.” His voice was sharp, “ Seriously . Why?”

Rumi paused, baffled by the emphasis on his words. He was looking for a genuine reason, an explanation for what she was thinking, and how she could convince him it was the right thing to kill his friends. And every reasoning she had prepared felt hollow, flimsy against his weight.

She remained silent, giving Jinu the green light to continue his questionnaire. “What makes them irredeemable?” He asked, and this time, the words came slower. More deliberate. “Why can I be good and they can’t?”

There was a split feeling of suffocation, breathing came as though a chore now, and he was looking at her like he had her all figured out. She hated it – no answer would be enough to give him, so she didn’t bother looking for it.

“It’s different.” That was all she could muster.

“Is it?” Jinu debated, “Or do you just think it’s easier?”

He wasn’t being cruel. His face was full of exhaustion rather than anger—Rumi could see it. “You gave me a chance,” He went on, “You let me exist. Let me stay . But those two, you can’t even consider it?”

Rumi swallowed the lump in her throat, pushing herself to talk. “Because I knew you!” She said, but her voice became more strained due to the lack of air.

Jinu blinked, lips parted slightly, not expecting her to give reasoning. 

“Yeah,” He said, nodding once, slow, resigned. “And how did that work out for you?”

The words rattled her skull, sharp and merciless, ringing louder than the empty hum of the city around them. She stared at him, dumbfounded. Even if she could weigh his emotions and know it was a loose-tongue statement, she couldn’t stop it from hurting any less. He hadn’t meant ill. She knew that.

Rumi’s fist curled at her side, nails digging into her palm. Above them, the neon glow flickered weakly, washing them both in a sickly color that made the city feel like a stage set. 

She knew full well the answer to his question. She lived it. These past few weeks were all that crossed her brain: how much she sacrificed. She lied, almost lost her friends, and there came the aftermath—all for it to be thrown back in her face.

Her blood came to a light boil, heat crawling up her neck. Her pulse crashed over her ears like waves.

“Wow,” She finally said, licks of sarcasm through every letter. Her voice was in a low rasp. “You had to go there.”

There was a temperature change. Rumi stepped forward, despite the evident shakiness in her movement. Her hand lifted – not in a strike, though it was tempting.

His eyes softened, not putting up a fight to pull himself back from her touch. “I’m asking you not to kill them. Rumi, please.”

She examined him, taking one good look at him, something she hadn’t done in a while. His face was full of stories, things that she would never know about him. 

The neon lights sputtered once, then twice. Rumi’s fingers reached out, hovering over the sleeve of his hoodie. There would be no answer that didn’t cost something. 

“Bye, Jinu."

Her fingertips brushed his arm, and the city blinked out in layers. The street crumpled inwards, stars blinking out like dying embers. Sound thinned. Color drained. And in her last bit of consciousness, she could have sworn she heard Jinu mutter a string of words, though it all sounded like a mess. She’s sure that if it were an apology, she would know.

There was no curtain call, only the looming sense of darkness. Before breathing, sharp and desperate breathing. Rumi’s body jolted with it. Her eyes snapped open to a familiar ceiling, plain and unmoving. It took a second for her brain to catch up, color and atmosphere weighing in. She could still feel the residue of the dream on her bones.

She ignored how her head dizzied when she sat up too fast. The room was dim. It was early morning, or perhaps she had only slept for an hour. There was no visual way of knowing; shadows became spectators in the corner of her room. The moonlight leaked through her window, casting silver and blue over the room. 

There was a rush of adrenaline, and her heart was beating out of her chest. She looked at her phone sitting on her nightstand, completely untouched. Her fingers hovered over the screen, waiting for something she wasn’t sure of. She opened her phone and went to her messages, the group chat between Mira and Zoey staring at her.

She could tell them, let them help, and she would in her conjured-up world. They would go on this mission like they always do–together. But something restrained her. She sat there, staring. The words looked small, and there was an uncoddling sense of pressure. They were too fragile for the weight of the words she had to say.

It felt unfair–dumping this onto them when they desperately tried to enjoy their break. And Rumi couldn’t bear dragging them into another series of unfortunate events.

She locked her phone and placed it down. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet pressing to the cold wood, she took a deep breath and stood, concluding she didn’t need backup. She didn’t need to drag anyone into this–not yet.

Whatever came after this, it wasn’t something she could hide behind. Saja and Romance lingered somewhere amid Seoul, and it was up to her to cut it off before the situation could get worse, before they could hurt the people she loved.

This was her job to fix, and she’d be damned to wait around for permission.