Chapter Text
The hanok stay was probably one of the best ideas Jinu had ever come up with but Rumi won't say that out loud at least. And it's not just because the place was tucked high in the mountains with air so clean it felt heavenly, or because the cherry blossom petals fell like they were in a K-drama budgeted by the gods. That was nice and all in retrospect but, Rumi would always appreciate that once in what felt like forever, it was quiet and just… them.
They spent the first hour simply lounging in the ondol room, sprawled out on the heated floors like lazy cats. Rumi with her hair still damp from a shower, Jinu half asleep with one arm thrown over his face. There was tea and sweet rice cakes. There was that smug blue cat, who had the audacity to waltz in uninvited and promptly curled up between them. The black bird joined shortly after. This time, it seemed to have retired from its pettiness and promptly perched on the window sill, watching them like it was livestreaming the domesticity.
Of course, this was them, so the couple’s bath didn’t stay PG for long. It had started innocently, with warm water, soft soap, steam fogging the wood framed windows, and Jinu massaging Rumi’s shoulders in what was, for ten seconds, a very wholesome moment. Then his hands slid down lower to grab her soft mounds and she smirked. One thing led to another and it ended with wet hair, flushed cheeks, and a new appreciation for how echoey hanok acoustics could be.
They took a slow stroll afterward, down winding stone paths through the garden, under budding trees and along moss covered walls. Rumi had the blue cat in her arms, clearly claimed, while the bird flitted from tree to tree like it was escorting them. Jinu kept sneaking pictures on his phone. Quiet, stolen shots of her smiling at something off-camera or brushing a petal from her sleeve. He didn’t say anything, just saved each one into a private album. He couldn't post that online so it's best he keep it for himself.
Dinner was brought to them in a lacquered tray. Jinu insisted on feeding her one of the little persimmon jellies and nearly choked laughing when she bit his fingers on purpose. The animals stayed, of course. The cat curled at their feet while the bird helped itself to a few stray crumbs. Rumi joked they were a family now and Jinu didn’t argue.
Later, they watched a film curled up on the floor mattress under layers of soft blankets, her legs tossed lazily over his. The hanok had a projector, something Jinu had thought ahead to arrange.
The movie was a fantasy, beautiful, broody, and deeply romantic. A demon with no soul. A hunter who was part demon, torn between duty and desire. It was forbidden love, impossible stakes, and an ending that yanked tears from Rumi’s eyes before she could stop them.
The male lead had sacrificed his life for the female lead's sake in the end. The credits rolled in slow silence, soft music humming over the speakers as the projector dimmed into a sleepy black. Rumi sat tucked under the blanket, knees pulled to her chest, one hand resting on the blue cat that had claimed her lap like a seasoned royal. Her eyes were still glassy, and Jinu didn’t even try to tease her about it. He felt it too.
The bird let out a quiet squawk from the top of the shelf, wings rustling once before settling back into silence.
“Damn,” Jinu exhaled in a low voice as he leaned back onto his palms. “I didn’t think it was gonna go that hard. The cover made it seem kinda chill.”
Rumi let out a soft laugh, her thumb brushing under her eyes before the tears had a chance to dry sticky. “Same. I thought it’d be some cheesy romance musical with cool swords fights, I got played.” She sniffed once. “But like, in a good way.”
A moment passed and then Jinu turned his head slightly toward her, eyes soft under the faint glow of the old hanging lantern.
“Did it remind you of us?” he asked.
Rumi blinked. “Huh?”
He shrugged, eyes drifting toward the dark ceiling. “The Huntress, she’s from a royal bloodline of demon slayers, right? With all the weight on her shoulders, legacy, name...” His gaze flicked back to her. “Kind of like you. You’re literal K-pop royalty, Rumi. Your mom, your grandmom and practically the whole family tree paved the way for you.”
Rumi opened her mouth, but he continued before she could speak.
“But she’s still insecure and hides a part of herself, ‘cause she thinks no one will accept it. That if she lets that side show, it’ll all fall apart.”
Silence.
She looked at him now, really looked at him with eyes steady, but her heart pulsing like a subtle drumbeat.
“And the demon,” Jinu continued, smiling faintly. “He reminded me of myself. The shutoff, half alive version of me when I first got into this industry.”
Rumi’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
“I didn’t care about anything or even about myself. I just wanted to make it out and focused on music and surviving. Then he meets her, and he starts to change. He wants to change. Wants to feel something again.” Jinu let out a breath. “Wants to believe he can have something real.”
There was a pause as Rumi stared at him, eyebrows slightly raised in awe.
“…I didn’t know you were such a good critic,” she teased, voice playful but still wrapped in quiet wonder.
Jinu grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just trying to impress you.”
She rolled her eyes, but it didn’t reach her smile. “Well, congrats. Color me impressed.”
The blue cat purred louder, pressing into her stomach. The bird flapped down from the cabinet and landed beside Jinu, talons clicking lightly against the wooden floor.
Rumi squinted at it. “Wait—” she leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “Since when did it get a hat?”
Jinu followed her gaze and then frowned a little, and sighed. “Oh my God. It stole it again.”
Rumi blinked. “What?”
“The hat,” Jinu said, pointing at the tiny lopsided crochet beret now sitting askew on the bird’s head. “I made it for the cat but the bird keeps taking it.”
At that, Rumi burst out laughing, a hand flying to her mouth as she doubled over.
“Maybe it suits the bird more,” Rumi teased. Jinu rolled his eyes then looked back at her with soft eyes, waiting for her to return his gaze.
“Do you think we could ever be like them?” he asked softly, referring to the main characters of the movie.
Rumi looked at him with an amused but curious expression. “You mean… tragic and emotionally wrecked?”
Jinu laughed under his breath, then shook his head.
“I mean… free. Free of all the insecurities and fear. Just two people, holding hands, walking into a world that accepts them.”
The question had Rumi go completely silent. She didn’t say anything at first and just… stared.
Her gaze lingered on his face longer than usual, with an unreadable expression and he sure as hell could see something shifting behind her eyes, like she wanted to believe him—but couldn’t. Or maybe didn’t know how.
That silence had stretched on for what felt like hours. Jinu's anxiety grew heavier with each passing second.
“So what’d she say?” Abby asked, looking over from the studio couch, one brow arched.
Jinu exhaled, leaning back with a shrug, lips pressed into a tight line.
“She said no.” he nodded with a bitter look. "And that I should give up on it."
He said it like it didn’t chip something inside him each time it replayed but Abby caught the way his voice dipped, just slightly.
“Ouch... Like damn,” Abby muttered. “Kinda harsh… but not exactly shocking.”
“I mean, sure. Whatever.” Jinu grumbled, kicking at the air as he slid further down the couch like a sulky cat.
“Hey, come on now.” Abby nudged. “You know how it is. Dating in this industry is basically asking to get cooked.”
“Fuck the industry, bro.”
“Yo, what’s going on?” Romance’s voice floated in as he walked into the studio, heading straight for the fridge.
“Jinu’s bummed Rumi doesn’t want to date him for real,” Abby replied, passively focused on the plugins he was tweaking.
Romance cracked open a soda and gave Jinu a sympathetic glance. “Damn. That’s rough, dude.”
Abby looked over, unimpressed.
“This industry sucks,” Jinu muttered. “I just wanna be with her without having to worry about people foaming at the mouth.”
“You could just quit,” Romance said with a casual shrug.
Abby immediately elbowed him. “Bro, what—”
“I could quit,” Jinu said absentmindedly, lost in the thought.
And that was enough to make both Abby and Romance straighten up in alarm.
“Woah, woah, woah—hey stop right there!”
"Like damn I wasn't even being that serious for real!"
“You’re quitting?” Mystery’s voice came out of nowhere like a demon in a horror film, making everyone jump out of their skin.
“Actually, no,” Jinu said quickly.
But it was already too late.
“I heard someone say ‘Jinu’ and ‘quitting’ in the same sentence!” Baby burst into the room, panicking, practically skidding on the floor as he dropped to his knees. “Please, don’t. You’re the only one keeping me alive in this beef—I still need someone to write my diss tracks!”
Jinu sighed so deeply it sounded like it came from his soul. “Relax. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Then why’d you say you were?” Mystery asked, arms crossed.
Before Jinu could answer, Romance chimed in helpfully, “He said it’s ’cause Rumi doesn’t wanna date him, so he’s gonna throw in the towel.”
“I am not quitting!” Jinu snapped, sitting up so fast the couch creaked beneath him. “Oh my God.”
“Look, man, this is just a distraction,” Abby said with a shrug. “Surely you’ll get over it.”
“Aren’t you and Rumi already, like, joined at the hip?” Romance added, sipping from his drink. “Isn’t that enough?”
Jinu groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face. “You guys don’t get it. I love Rumi. It’s not just about sex. I want to see her happy 'cause and right now? She’s not.”
There was a pause.
“Okay,” Abby said flatly, “this is clearly above my emotional paygrade. I’ll shut up now.”
“There’s nothing you can really do though,” Romance said.
“What are you talking about?” Baby cut in, brows furrowed. “There is.”
Everyone turned to look at him.
“I mean yeah, K-pop says ‘no dating,’ blah blah blah,” Baby continued, waving his hand. “But that’s just a corner of the industry. If you could get the rest of the entertainment world on your side, you could drown out the hate.”
They all stared at him like he’d just spit out bars of gold.
“Baby,” Jinu said slowly, a grin spreading across his face, “you’re a genius.”
He practically tackled Baby in a shoulder shake of appreciation before leaping off the couch and clapping once, like he just got struck by divine inspiration.
“Okay, hold on,” Abby said, pointing. “How exactly are you gonna get the whole industry on your side?”
“Simple.” Jinu smirked. “I’m releasing a song.”
“What?”
“Oh I see where this is going,” Romance murmured, catching on. “You put out a provocative track that touches on the real stuff. People start talking. It trends. Suddenly, everyone’s in the conversation.”
“Boom! Stripes for Romance,” Jinu declared, finger-gunning him.
Abby blinked, slack-jawed. “You wanna ragebait the entire industry just so you can date Rumi openly? You’re actually insane.”
“No, no—this might actually work,” Mystery said, eyes wide with a spark of approval.
Abby groaned. “Okay, so what’s the plan? You gonna drop a cheesy pop ballad about forbidden love?”
Jinu had already moved to the electronic piano in the corner, testing out chords. His fingers moved instinctively, searching the keys like he was feeling for a heartbeat. He hit a few random notes, let out a couple muttered curses—then he landed on something clean.
His brows lifted slightly.
“C minor,” he murmured under his breath, then struck another.
“A♭ major… F minor… D♭.”
He paused, then played them again one by one, slowly, then as a progression.
C minor → A♭ major → F minor → D♭.
He pressed down gently, letting the chords bleed into each other. The room practically shifted into silence as they watched Jinu work.
Romance, who’d been lounging near the soundboard with a drink in hand, sat up.
“Wait, run that again.”
Jinu obliged.
Romance began mumbling nonsense into the air, letting his voice melt into the mood.
“Yeah, mmm, ah—wait, nah—uh, yeah…”
He snapped his fingers to the beat, eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay… this got legs.”
Jinu chuckled, still looping the progression, letting his left hand hold the rhythm steady while his right hand played with texture.
Romance jumped in again, trying to form words even though he wasn’t saying anything that made sense.
“I just want you to/ wait for me/ baby say you want it—uh—nuh uh, yeah…”
Jinu followed the cadence with harmonies, low and warm, weaving in and out of Romance’s mess of freestyle gibberish.
They laughed at it, but the vibe was alive.
“This progression though?” Romance pointed at the keys, wide eyed. “This makes a lot of space for riffs and runs that loop back and slap, like this is soulful. Not pop.”
Jinu nodded slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. His fingers never left the keys.
C minor… A♭ major… F minor… D♭...
His mind was already moving ahead, visualizing melodies, lyrics, the way strings might weave in, maybe a live bass. He could already hear the drums. Soft muted kicks with snapping snares.
“I was thinking a statement track,” he said slowly.
Romance tilted his head.
“But now?” Jinu exhaled, eyes half-lidded as his fingers caressed the keys again. He looked up with a wicked smirk.
“This is gonna be R&B.”
A slow grin stretched across Romance’s face. “Let’s cook, then.”
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Rumi had been out of it for days. Her mind wasn’t on music, choreography, or even skincare, which was saying something. Every time someone cracked a joke or tried to cheer her up, she offered a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her energy and spark has dwindled a bit and all that was left was just dying embers and a gnawing sense of guilt.
Jinu hadn’t called.
Not a text, not a voice note, not even a meme.
And it had been a week!
The very same Jinu who couldn’t go a day without blowing up her phone with the most ridiculous calls, texts and sweet nothings had just… gone quiet. After everything they shared at the retreat, after the warmth and the whispers and the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at her, now it was radio silence.
Of course, Rumi had convinced herself that he understood. That he wouldn’t take it personally when she told him no.
But maybe he had. Maybe she'd been too harsh.
Now she sat curled up in her hoodie like a human dumpling, chin buried in her knees, while Zoey and Mira stood at the foot of her bed, arms crossed like two disgruntled PTA moms.
“Alright,” Mira began, “you know how much I trust my instincts.”
Rumi didn’t look up.
“And my instincts are telling me that someone’s got you acting like you just got kicked out of a drama audition.”
“Mira…” Rumi tried, but Mira plowed right through.
“It’s Jinu, isn’t it? It is! Ever since you guys got back from that retreat, you’ve been a sad little ghost in here.”
“It’s true,” Zoey nodded, tone gentler. “What happened? You know you can tell us, Rumi. We’re your soul sisters.”
That earned a weak huff from Rumi, maybe a laugh or a scoff. Then, she finally muttered, “Jinu brought it up again.”
Both girls blinked.
“Wait,” Mira said, already bracing, “again as in…?”
“He asked if we could ever be free,” Rumi admitted quietly, voice tight. “Free of the industry, all this noise and just… be with each other.”
“And you said…?”
Rumi winced. “I told him we can’t. That he should give up on it.”
The room went quiet except for the sound of Mira and Zoey both wincing like she’d just stepped on their toes.
“Oh no,” Zoey whispered.
“Girl…” Mira shook her head, “you didn’t have to say it like that.”
“I know,” Rumi wailed suddenly, voice cracking as tears began to spill over. “I know, I fucked up!”
The sob that followed was so heart-wrenching that both girls immediately ditched their judgment and rushed to her side. Zoey wrapped her arms around her, Mira plopped down and began rubbing her back.
“He hasn’t called or texted since. It’s been a whole week! A week, guys!” Rumi sobbed. “I ruined it.”
"Rumi you didn't..." Zoey trailed off as she glanced at Mira who was already shooting her a look. “Okay, maybe you did go a little overboard,” Zoey said delicately, “but come on. Jinu’s not the kind of guy to ghost you out of spite.”
“Exactly,” Mira agreed. “Sure, he’s a chaotic, dramatic, part gremlin son of a bitch but he wouldn’t leave you hanging without a reason.”
“He must be going through something too,” Zoey added. “You said it yourself, that conversation got deep.”
Just then, Zoey’s phone rang. She picked it up, wiping Rumi’s tears off her shoulder as she pressed it to her ear.
“Hey, Bobby. What’s up?”
Whatever Bobby said on the other end had her eyes widening.
“No way,” she breathed. “Wait, slow down—what?!”
That made Mira perk up. “What’s going on?”
Zoey looked at them, stunned. “Jinu just dropped a solo single.”
Rumi's head snapped up so fast, her messy bun fell loose.
“What?”
“That’s what I said!” Zoey said. “According to Bobby, it’s trending everywhere. Like, whole fandoms are imploding. Even non-fans are going feral.”
Mira was already unlocking her phone. “If my instincts are correct, this is no coincidence.”
Zoey gasped. “You think the song is about Rumi?”
Rumi’s head fell back into her hands with a groan. “No no no no…”
“Okay, we haven’t even heard it yet,” Zoey said, typing fast. “Let’s not jump—wait.” Zoey paused, blinking at the screen.
“Oh damn,” she whispered. The title was just two words: Taint You.
“…Taint you?” she repeated, head tilting like she misread it. “Isn't that—like—‘taint’ as in…stain? Corrupt? Contaminate?”
Mira just blinked, deadpan. “I thought we were going full heartbreak. This is already giving something else.”
“I mean, I did say we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” Zoey muttered, but even she sounded unsure.
“Can we give it a listen?” Rumi’s voice came quietly from her curled up form on the bed, hoarse from crying.
The room fell still.
Zoey and Mira looked back at her, both brows knitting. Her face was puffy, eyes red-rimmed and glassy but her expression had steadied. Whatever storm had broken in her chest earlier had now passed. What was left was resolve.
After a moment, Zoey nodded.
She pulled out her phone again, connected it to the high-def sound system mounted in the walls of Rumi’s room, and queued up the track on Spotify.
Mira moved to sit beside Rumi, pulling her hair into a messy puff. Zoey took the other side, grabbing one of the fluffy pillows like a battle shield.
The room felt oddly cold, dim lights, heavy air, and quiet chilling anxiety, because this wasn’t just a song. This was Jinu.
And if there was one thing the entire industry knew by now, when Jinu wrote from his soul, he didn’t miss.
The track loaded. The screen showed nothing more than the title, a dark swirling background, and his name in sleek silver font.
“TAINT YOU – JINU”
They braced themselves. A moment of silence.
Then, a low hum, deep and grainy, like a heartbeat underwater echoed through the room. The production hit immediately, a slow, simmering instrumental with R&B bones and haunting, reverbed synths.
And then his voice came out clear, raw and smooth like honey, but laced with ache.
“Tossin’ and turnin’ again
Here you go with this and I’m losin’ my patience…”
Zoey's eyes widened slightly.
“…You sayin’ love like ours could ruin us
But I know you’re down for it, girl I feel you drownin’ in temptation”
Mira leaned forward, elbows on her knees as the pre chorus hit.
“I just think it's funny that you say we shouldn't act loose
But baby what are we if not two stars crashin’ through the rules?.”
Rumi sat frozen, because Jinu was actually telling a story.
Their story.
Line after line, it unfolded. Vulnerable, poetic, dark in parts, sexy in others. A tangle of want and restraint, intimacy and guilt. He sang about not wanting to ruin her, but needing her anyway. About feeling like loving her meant contaminating her, like he was the problem. Like he was the thing she feared catching.
“If they saw you with me now, they’d say I taint you
Say I pulled you out of heaven just to break you
But baby we both know that you ain't porcelain, I've been in your skin...”
The beat was minimal, just enough rhythm to make your chest tighten, and your head sway. This definitely wasn't pop or a heartbreak song.
It was confession dressed in silk and Rumi couldn’t move, honestly, she could barely breathe.
Because somewhere between the bridge and the final chorus, he said it plainly.
“You try to hide but girl I know the real you
You’re already tainted, they barely even know you..”
A silent moment passed and then the song ended.
Silence.
No one said a word for a full five seconds.
Then—
“Whoa,” Mira whispered, biting her thumb nail.
“Okay what the hell did we just listen to—?” Zoey said, eyes still wide. “That was like…”
"Really hot to be honest." Mira completed and Zoey nodded in agreement.
"Yeah hundred percent."
Rumi just stared ahead like she’d been hit with something she couldn’t name.
Now she understood why Jinu had been quiet for so long. He hadn’t ghosted her, he was writing this!
And every word was for her.
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Jinu’s solo spread like wildfire. In less than 24 hours, "Taint You" climbed its way up the Korean charts, skipping past every safe little pop song clinging to the top five. By the third day, it cracked top three and settled there like it belonged. And everyone agreed, it did belong there.
The internet had lost its damn mind.
Clips of the chorus played over thirst traps, fan edits, aesthetic reels. Vocals from the bridge were slowed down, turned into ethereal soundscapes for dreamy content. The outro was used by late night artists painting under soft lighting. Everyone was eating it up. They were all in love with the song and also trying to figure out just who had inspired it.
And that was the kicker.
It wasn’t just fans anymore, news blogs, gossip pages, YouTubers doing lyrical breakdowns. Because everyone remembered Jinu’s past interviews. “When I write for myself, I write from my own experiences. I don’t make up muses. If you hear a song I wrote, that muse exists. They're real.”
So of course now everyone wanted to know who this muse was.
The questions piled up. Who was the girl who wore a halo in public and claws in private? The “fire wrapped in porcelain skin”? Who was the girl he didn’t ruin but freed?
And because the universe clearly had a sense of humor, Jinu showed up for an interview that very week.
It wasn’t meant to be a big sit-down. Just a casual music segment. But the interviewer had come prepared and with a glint in her eye.
“The song is incredible, Jinu. You’ve definitely got the whole country wondering—who is the muse behind Taint You?”
Jinu laughed softly, leaned back in his seat, eyes low-lidded but amused. “Mm. Yeah. I figured that question would come up.”
“So… are the lyrics real?”
“Oh yeah definitely.” he said, too easily.
“Every word of it? Even the sexy parts?” The host asked with amused narrowed eyes to which Jinu just laughed and shrugged. “So you’re saying, those parts were based on real experiences?”
“Yeah,” Jinu said with zero hesitation, eyes gleaming. “They happened.”
“Well… can we get a hint? Of who this woman is?”
“Nope.” His grinned boyishly. “I can’t tell but she knows. That’s the thing about how I write—if it’s about you, you’ll know it.” that was when he looked straight at the camera, held his gaze their for a moment and winked.
Somewhere across Seoul, Rumi nearly dropped her damn drink.
The secondhand embarrassment punched her in the stomach. She sat stiff on her bed, remote still in hand, eyes wide, cheeks a violent red. “Oh my God…”
Zoey screamed from the bathroom. “HE JUST WINKED AT THE CAMERA!!”
Mira, who was painting her nails, peeked over the polish bottle. “Girl. He WINKED at YOU.”
Rumi threw a pillow over her face and screamed into it.
Jinu was being way too bold but he was right.
She knew damn well that the song was hers.
He had just told the whole world, without saying a word.