Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rumi had spent her entire life hiding.

Her flaws, her fears, and all the thoughts that often kept her awake at night until her eyes burned, dry and desperate, searching for a single, fleeting moment of peace.

A moment, however small, when she could believe that everything would turn out right, when -and most importantly, if- she revealed her greatest secret to her friends. And that everything Celine had ever told her -repeated over and over like some annoying and cloying mantra- was nothing more than a projection, a scared response to the emotional burden left behind by that heavy situation with her very own mother.

A moment which, in the harsh light of reality, had proven to be nothing more than a hollow hope.

Of course, after all the initial chaos, at least her friends had reacted in a mostly positive way; and six months after that disastrous night at Namsan Tower, the demonic part of herself -once feared, now gleaming across her skin like a shimmering Kintsugi- was fully accepted… And even cherished.

But at that time, Rumi had something else on her mind as well. Something much bigger.

She wanted to set him free.
She wanted to tear down the walls from the inside.
She wanted to show herself that true hope was still possible for everyone.

But in the end, all that remained was grief.

A mourning that cost her one hundred and eighty-two sleepless nights, filled with pain and silent tears. A sorrow she was forced to hide, as she always had. Beautifully. For the sake of the cameras, the interviews, the stage. The fans had waited for their newest album since what felt like the dawn of time, even far longer than originally planned. At that point, not to ruin their enjoyment became her very personal moral duty. And so, as long as the sun held its place in the sky, there was no room for sorrow.

Sometimes it slipped away on its own, granting her even the luxury of laughing freely with her friends; perhaps during one of their outings to the bathhouse, or in the middle of a marathon of some utterly terrible K-Drama, painstakingly chosen by Zoey, of course.

But other times, that same emotion refused to leave, and it clung to her throat with quiet, relentless persistence. No matter how many times she tried to swallow it down, if through a smile, or some astronomical dose of self-control. It stayed right there, unmoving, until nightfall.

And so, her bedroom door would lock much earlier than usual; and a cascade of tears would silently peel the mask from her face, drop by drop, until the first pale light of dawn crept in, announcing another painfully repetitious day.

"Hey…"

It was on one of those restless nights, the kind of night where not even the darkness, the biting cold, or the thick November fog could swallow Rumi's sobs, that the sound of Mira's voice suddenly broke through the melancholic and disjointed rhythm that seeped into every corner of the room.

"Hey…"
"…Is everything okay?"

Her question was promptly ignored. "Mira… What are you doing here?"

"Well, I heard you crying on my way back from the kitchen," she replied casually. "And now I want to make sure you're okay."

Rumi didn't answer. Of course she didn't.

After that cursed night, she had sworn she'd never hide anything from her friends again. Not even the tiniest thought, not even the smallest white lie. And the overwhelming sense of emptiness that had torn through her chest the very moment the truth hit her… That was the first thing she needed to confess Mira and Zoey.

It had crept in after a few weeks, during a lazy evening on the couch, wrapped in the cozy hug of her bathrobe and surrounded by a ridiculous pile of food, looming temptingly in front of her. Something that made her feel nothing but comfort and peace, pure and simple comfort and peace.

Or at least it was supposed to.

It took nothing more than a faint breath of wind -slipping into the penthouse through a cracked window- to change everything.

It carried nothing dangerous: just the soft, fresh scent of late spring evenings. Harmless, really. Sweet, even. But, however gentle it may have seemed, it hit her like salt on a raw wound.

It was the same scent from that night.
The night she thought she could set him -his name cautiously unspoken- free from Gwi-Ma.

And suddenly, everything changed.

The food lost its taste.
The softness of the bathrobe began to itch.
Her gaze blurred.
And then the first tears came, real and unapologetic, right in front of her friends.

God… If only she had managed to free him.

How many things might have gone differently? Maybe, six months later, her nights would have been sleepless for a thousand other reasons. Curiosity. Joy. Maybe even desire. Maybe even… Something more. Something real that could have grown between them.

Something that, now, she would never be known for sure.

No one's ever gotten anywhere with what ifs. And the only tangible thing left behind was the bitter taste of a future that could have been infinitely brighter than this.

"Okay… Let me guess," Mira said, sitting on the edge of the bed, where her friend laid wrapped up in layers of blankets like armor. "You're still thinking about it, aren't you?"

"It's just that…" Rumi took a breath.
"I still can't accept it. I really can't. And I don't get it! I swear I don't understand why this whole thing still hits me so hard."

"Well…"

"I mean, you always say it too, right? I only knew him for two weeks, so why? Why do I still care this much after six months? It happened, I couldn't stop it, and whether I laugh or cry now, I still can't change how it all went down. So what's the point? I should just smile and focus on all the good that came out of it, right? I know, Mira, you keep saying this. Save it for yourself."

"Well… Actually, I-"

"No matter how good I am at pretending I don't care, or at least pretending I care less… there's always this one moment in the day when I just can't lie to myself anymore."

"I figured."
"...What?"

"Look. You know I've never been great with diplomacy. And I know I could probably do a better job at keeping my own perspective out of all this. But… I thought it might help you. I really did. Well, I guess I was wrong." Mira subtly scoffed. "So… I've decided to try something different. How about getting a bit of fresh air? We could talk and you can vent, if you want. I also brought two drinks, you know… Just in case."

"Well… Sounds good." Rumi replied with a slight smile, while wiping away her tears. "Maybe it will help."

Mira gave her a gentle smile in response, but before she could say anything more, she was interrupted by a quiet invitation: "Go on ahead. I'll be right there as soon as I find my jacket."

The pink-haired girl nodded silently.

Without another word, and with one final glance of agreement, she stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the railing.

In front of her, the city stretched into an almost-Romantic landscape in its contrasts. The crisp, biting cold of the air slipped past her thick hoodie with ease, and yet, paradoxically, it brought in her some odd warmth. And even if the skyline was cloaked in a sleepy fog -that dulled the edges of the city and turned the towering buildings into distant silhouettes-, it only deepened the sublime sense of comfort she felt; a comfort crowned by the shimmering iridescence of the new Honmoon, brighter than she had ever seen it.

That was peace.

Pure, unfiltered peace of the senses.

And after all, she thought to herself as she closed her eyes and drew a long breath into her lungs, she damn well deserved it.

Until a sharp, acrid gust of sulfur invaded her nostrils. Her face twisted in disgust: the stench was as sudden as it was unmistakable.

She instantly jerked her hands back from the railing and snapped her eyes open.

And there they were.

Two very familiar faces. Two heads -one green, one pink- leaning comfortably on her balcony as if it was theirs, and grinning like they already knew how the next part of the story would go.

"'Sup."

"Hey, Sweetie."

With a mix of shock and blind fury, Mira summoned her gok-do in an instant, leveling it directly at the two Saja Boys -yes, them- who had dared show their smug-ass faces on that balcony. "Sweetie my ass! What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm glad you asked," Romance said, his grin widening. "See, the last time I stood in front of you, you chose not to kill me. You shoved me away instead. Makes me wonder… Maybe, deep down, you've got a soft spot for me?"

"Oh, listen to yourself! Singing your own damn praises like you've earned the right!" she growled, pressing the blade just a breath away from the pink-haired demon's throat.

On the other side, Baby tried to step forward: "Look, actually we are grateful. To you and your little hunter friends. Ever since that night, our patterns changed, and it's been like six months since-"

"Not an inch!" Mira snapped, slashing the air toward him.

"Damn sis, chill the fuck out! We're here to talk!"

"I don't care! This is not even the time! Save your twisted little mind games for someone else, and get out of my sight! Immediately!"

Romance spoke again, his grin stretching so far it looked like it might split his face in two: "What's the matter? Did we crash… A moment?"

"You arrogant son of a bitch! You've got some nerve showing up here like nothing happened and stomping all over someone's grief with that smug attitude of yours! Get the hell out before I tear you apart and sleep like a baby afterward!" she spat, striking her weapon furiously, but in vain.

However, the exact moment the word grief left her lips, the pink-haired demon's grin vanished quicker than it had appeared, and his eyes darkened with such sudden gravity that, for just a moment, Mira could swear she saw a flicker of human emotion in them.

The three of them stood there for a long, unmoving, as the chill of the night crept in and the darkness turned colder and more hostile. Then, Romance spoke with a low voice, barely above a whisper: "…Let's go."

"But-"

"No, Baby. No buts. She's right… Let's go."

And just like that, a swirl of pink smoke swallowed the two demons both. They were gone as quickly as they came, leaving Mira standing there, speechless… And with far more questions than she'd ever expected.

Chapter Text

"Mira… Is everything okay?"

When Rumi stepped out onto the balcony, she didn't expect to find her friend standing perfectly still and fixing her eyes on some invisible point beyond the railing -while the sulfuric stench still lingered in her nostrils- as if the empty void she was silently staring at could answer her.

"Uh… Hello?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure?" Rumi asked again, cracking open her drink and taking the first sip.

"You look like you just witnessed a mass murder."

Trying to shake off the shadow of the last ten minutes, Mira shook her head: "It's nothing. Really."

"If you say so…"

An awkward silence fell between the two girls, and it felt as though the echo of the last words still hung in the air above the city. As if that wasn't enough, the nagging sensation of being watched refused to leave Mira's mind. So she turned, and saw Rumi exactly as she'd pictured: motionless and silent, staring in her direction, with an expression halfway between concerned and annoyed.

Mira noticed it, and gave her a nervous smile: "Well… Go on then. Let it out." she said, trying to brush off the sudden -and very much unwanted- attention that had just landed on her.

"…I think we should first talk about what happened to you while I was looking for my jacket."

Mira sighed at her stubbornness, but she was still far from surrendering. She didn't want to talk about that encounter. Not at all. It would be absolutely nonsense to do so.

After all, she was standing in front of a friend who -though both of them had tried to deny it- was grieving. And bringing up demons, not exactly the most uplifting topic to start a distracting conversation, felt neither helpful nor respectful.

"No. It might upset you."

"Okay, first of all, saying that is already making me anxious. And second… Seriously, how much worse could it get at this point?"

They looked at each other, and Mira noticed something shift slightly in Rumi's eyes.

Softness, maybe. Also, a little bit of calm.

It seemed like giving her the freedom to speak openly -without expecting the usual, empty lecture in response- had already brought some small relief: the quiet realization that she wasn't weathering that storm alone. And this time, it felt real. Not in the form of some awkward advice or forced pep talks, but through gestures: speaking looks, understanding smiles, and just the right closeness to feel caught mid-fall by two steady arms -actually four, since Zoey already mastered the art of lifting her the right way- anytime she felt herself slipping.

"And what if I told you there's nothing to worry about?"

"I'd say I don't care. Just talk."

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"I've already told you! Things literally can't get worse. Come on. What did you see?"

Mira didn't answer right away. Her gaze fixed on the distant skyline, she still hadn't decided what to do. But that silence didn't help ease Rumi's nerves. In fact, it prompted the question that broke it all wide open: "Are you trying to tell me it wasn't a something… but a someone?"

Again, Mira said nothing.

"Oh, come on! Who did you see?"

"…Two of them."

Them?

With her head full of a thousand thoughts and feelings, Rumi didn't immediately grasp what Mira meant by them. But the moment she saw her friend's hands tighten around the railing, as if holding back anger or fear, the answer came at once.

"Two of… Them?" she repeated, their name still so unbearably hard to even form on her lips.

"W-What? How is that even possible?"

"I don't know. I swear I have no idea! They just said they wanted to talk to us because they were… grateful. I don't know for what, and I have no idea if there's more to it. Their stupid smug faces faded suddenly and they disappeared just like that, the same way they showed up."

"Grateful?"

"I'm not joking. At first, I thought they were messing with me. But then… When I saw their eyes go dark all of a sudden, it felt like I saw… Like a kind of…"

Mira stopped. After all, she didn't even want to admit she'd thought something like that about demons. But Rumi wasn't about to let her off the hook, not when her usually impenetrable friend was showing a rare bit of vulnerability.

"A kind of what?"

Mira swallowed hard. She didn't even want to admit she'd had such a thought about demons, no less. And the more she felt pressed, the less courage she had to speak. But Rumi's insistence pushed her to grit her teeth and blurt out, all at once, a word that felt so wrong.

"…Humanity."

Six months earlier

Some might have called them cowards. Turncoats. Even traitors.

But when Death chose to delay their sentence, all they really did was act like the humans they used to be. So they ran, turning their backs on their lord, and tried to chase a freedom that had never truly been promised, nor ever honestly expected. A hollow concept, surely often whispered, but never truly believed in.

After all, no demon had ever escaped the sadistic grasp of Gwi-Ma. Not even the one who, clinging to that fragile hope, ended up sacrificing himself in the name of his very own enemy.

Until they did.

Against every possible expectation.

In the chaos of that battle, Baby and Romance hadn't even noticed.
But when the dust settled -leaving behind a brand-new, stronger, and more resilient Honmoon- and they found themselves completely alone in what had been a war zone just hours before, the truth hit them with full force.

They were free.

Though their bodies still bore demonic features -iridescent patterns etched into skin, eyes that could still shift color, sharp canines and a handful of lingering supernatural abilities- their craving for souls had been replaced by the loud, all-too-human growl of hunger. And that voice -relentless, thunderous, that had constantly reminded them of their deepest disgrace- had fallen silent, giving way to the muffled murmur of a city waking up. Something ordinary, yet disorienting. At first, even irritating, like the ringing in your ears after a night of deafening music. But at the same time, achingly beautiful.

That was what freedom felt like.

But, as with all things, it came at a cost.
A cost far higher than they had ever imagined.

No one really knew what exactly led the huntresses to spare them from their blades; but one thing was certain: mercy wasn't granted to all of them in the same way.

Baby, in fact, lost a brother.
The one who, from the very first day five years ago, had reached out his hand and taught him how to find the silver linings in a world that, especially in the beginning, offered nothing but tears, terror, and even panic attacks. It was Mystery's three centuries of experience in that hellhole that had taught him how to laugh at his own downfall, and though he'd never said it out loud, Baby had always been deeply grateful for it.

And now, it was too late to properly thank him. Mystery was gone, and he would never get the chance.

That realization hit him like a highway truck, smashing straight through the armor he had so carefully forged. Ironically, with Mystery's help. And it hurt. God, it hurt like hell.

But not nearly as much as the unbearable agony of losing a partner. A pain that no words could ever capture better than Romance's desperate scream, tearing through the silence the moment he was forced to face the truth: the love of his life, the one who had given his last thirty years in hell a taste of heaven, was dead.

Killed by the very other person they were both slowly and helplessly falling for.

If Gwi-Ma still got to control him, he wouldn't have hesitated to add this tragedy to the ever-growing pile of reasons why being polyamorous was something to be ashamed of.

Whether Romance reached that conclusion on his own was another matter entirely. Because the overwhelming frustration he felt toward Mira -and the way he kept justifying her actions as something deeper than a fleeting infatuation- was, in his own words, anything but normal.

Even Abby, had he still been around to speak, would've told him to let it go. He would've been the first to laugh it off.
After all, he had fallen for her too. By then, there was nothing the two of them didn't do together. Plus, she had saved Romance's life as well! Hadn't she?

Still, not a day passed without him punishing himself for it, sometimes quietly, sometimes not.

And all of that only worsened the state that both he and Baby were already in.

Even though the two had managed to get their hands on some personal documents and credit cards -especially Romance; as for Baby, reclaiming his old papers wouldn't have been too much of a challenge- thanks to a few demonic tricks they still had up their sleeve, the money earned from just two hit songs was hardly going to last forever. Especially when they flat-out refused to look for any kind of job -out of fear that some passing huntress might catch sight of them- and spent their entire existence holed up in a room of an abandoned motel, doing nothing but stewing in their thoughts.

Nothing all that different, in the end, from what went on in the demon realm.

And the worst part was, no one was forcing them to live like that anymore.
At that point, something had to change.

Present Day

"We actually stuck to the script all the way through. Excellent! Now we're ready to talk to the Huntresses without sounding like idiots or having some emotional meltdown halfway through the conversation!" Romance gave himself a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, proud he'd managed to keep up his smug, indifferent act the whole time.

He and Baby both agreed that talking to the Huntresses was necessary, no matter how much courage it would take. There was no one else they could go about their former status as demons, and no one else they could ask for guidance on what to do from now on.

To avoid unpleasant surprises, though, they'd decided to stick to written lines: once they could perform them flawlessly, that was the moment to act.

"Actually, you are the one who's gonna have a breakdown. I've been totally chill since the second you gave me these pages." Baby replied, waving what looked like an actual script in front of him. He already made it clear, thanks to his oh-so-useful habit of laughing at his own misfortunes, he had moved past the aftermath of that night much faster.

"Look, I already told you how hard this is for me. It's like standing with two feet crammed into one shoe, you know? Mira hates me. And yeah, maybe I hate her a little too. But I also love her. And if I'm still here talking to you right now, it’s because of her. So…"

"Oh, come on."

Romance let out an annoyed sigh: "Could you try being supportive just this once?"

"Dude, this is me being supportive."

"Then let's go talk to the Huntresses." he said, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than the other. "Promise me you'll stick to the script."

"Yeah, yeah. I got you."

"And no emotional breakdowns in the middle. Got it?"

Some time later

"Humanity?"

At the sound of that word, curiosity bloomed swiftly across Rumi's face. For the past six months, she had been deeply committed to that specific cause; and even with all the unanswered questions left hanging by someone's absence, anything that could support her beliefs grabbed her attention instantly.

"Look, maybe I'm wrong. And maybe I just fell for one of their dumb manipulation games. Wouldn't surprise me, actually."

Rumi didn't answer. She only widened her eyes, silently telling her to go on.

"I know. It's stupid. But I'd never lie to you about something like this. You know how much I hate demons. I could never make something up just to justify one of them."

By now, Rumi's expression made it all too clear: there was no way Mira could miss all the unspoken responses appearing on her friend's face.

"…Okay, yeah. Obviously I hate all of them except you. And anyway, you're half human, so…"

"That's not what I was thinking about…"
"Then what were you thinking about?"
"About what they told you."
"I mean, whatever. It's not like it matters."

"…It actually might matter a lot."

Chapter Text

By ten in the morning, the rich aroma of coffee and the tempting scent of warm gyeran-mari or freshly steamed mandu had already drifted beyond the kitchen, filling the nearby rooms with comfort. And for Zoey, there was no better alarm clock. She eagerly awaited the chance to make the most important meal of the day come alive in the fullest sense: whether by savoring the sweet, delicate flavor of the eggs or losing herself in the soft, almost velvety texture of the dumplings, breakfast became her gateway to a blissful culinary escape.

That specific morning, however, the usual delicious smell that floated through the apartment and lured her straight to the kitchen like a cartoon character was nowhere to be found. Instead, her nose caught only the faint burnt-dust scent from the newly reactivated heating system, and her ears picked up nothing but the oh-so-charming cacophony of squeaking scaffolds, hammering, and intermittent sirens coming from the now-infamous construction site next to their tower.

Something in the air felt… Off.
Weird. Really weird, she thought to herself.
But surrendering? Not her style.
If breakfast wouldn't come to her, then she'd go to breakfast.

And so, after a luxurious stretch, slipping on her slippers, and completing her sacred morning skincare ritual -all twelve steps, obviously-, Zoey shuffled toward the kitchen… Only to find it suspiciously empty.

The stillness that greeted her felt almost unsettling: the whole room was bathed in a dull grayish light, filtered through half-closed blinds and the fine layer of dust that seemed to settle everywhere.

And nothing moved.

Not a sound, not a flicker. Even the usual hum of the refrigerator felt muted, like the penthouse itself was holding its breath.

Like the calm before a demon apocalypse. But without demons.

Hopefully.

"Looks like the girls were up late!" she began muttering to herself, as she often did, while fumbling with the kitchen tools. "Not like I expected anything else from Rumi. Poor thing, nights have been rough for her lately. But Mira? What's her excuse? Maybe... Maybe she met someone! Maybe… A special guy! Or maybe a special girl! And God, please don't let it be that nightmare of an ex again! That one who showed up with her busted drama face and swore for the fifth time that she'd changed begging for another chance! Nope. Not happening. Banned. Forever."

Her monologue ended just like that, right as she plated her breakfast: scrambled eggs and bacon, because no matter how long she left that country, she'd never let go of her inner American. "Ah… Perfect!"

Zoey grabbed her plate with ceremony, walking toward the living room. And then, after she rolled up the blinds, morning light spilled through the wide windows, casting long, quiet rectangles across the rug while the dust motes danced lazily in the air like they had all the time in the world.

What better way to enjoy it than curled up on the couch, with a nice documentary about turtles playing in the background?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Even with the girls absent, Zoey was genuinely excited about the morning. She definitely knew how to treat herself, even when alone.

Or at least, that's what she thought.

"Turtle life sucks."
"Don't ever say that again, thanks!"

"No, seriously. Think about it. They fight like hell just to crack outta the egg, and then they gotta drag their asses up to the surface 'cause their mom left them buried like half a meter deep in the sand, like they were trash or something. And if that's not bad enough, once they finally make it to the surface…"

"You're just…" Zoey started to fire back, but the sentence died on her lips as the truth clicked into place. She wasn't alone.

Her breath caught, eyes snapping toward the voice. There was no mistake. Whipping her head around, she spotted to her horror an uninvited presence on the couch: a Saja Boy. The green-haired one.

A sharp, startled scream ripped out of her as she jerked backward. Even the plate nearly slipped from her hands.

Luckily, she recovered fast, as she rapidly summoned her shin-kal: "What the hell is a Saja Boy doing on my very precious couch?! Get lost, now!" she yelled, flinging one of her blades at him.

Unfortunately, Baby dodged it with annoying grace: "Shame. We were off to such a great start."

"Has no one ever told you that breaking into someone's house is, you know, illegal?" she snapped, her voice sharp and pissed off.

"Hm. Didn't wanna wake the sleeping dog." he answered with a shrug.

Narrowing her eyes, Zoey stood rigid, the knives still trembling slightly in her hands, eyes locked on Baby's calm and almost too casual demeanor: "Well, I don't wanna wake up to you. So, get out!"

"Oh… Come on! You're not even gonna hear me out?"

"No thanks! I don't need some demon dude showing up and ruining my good vibes by talking crap about turtles! Turtles are perfect!"

For a brief moment, the room went awkwardly quiet. It was obvious Baby was holding back a laugh. Barely.

"You seriously think I came here to talk about turtles?"

"…Yes! I mean… No! I mean… I hoped that was it! But if you're gonna kill the vibe with your trash takes, then yeah, you ruined it!"

"Well, bad news for you. I didn't come here for turtle talk."

And just like that, her anger came flooding back: "Oh, and you think that's better? You think showing up here, spouting all of your demon crap and telling me you're gonna start eating our fans or whatever… Makes you feel good about yourself?"

"I haven't eaten a single soul in six months."

Silence again.
But this time, it wasn't awkward.
It was ice cold.

Baby's smirk faltered, when he saw the genuine confusion and disbelief flicker across her face at his admission.

"…What did you just say?"
"Put the knives down. I can explain." he said calmly.

And to her own surprise, she did.

"Also... Can I have your breakfast? I'm starving." he added, totally unfazed by the loud growl from his stomach, which left Zoey visibly baffled.

"…H-How? Demons don't get hungry!"
"That's exactly the point."

"So… Do you like eggs and bacon? First time trying this?"

Watching a demon eat actual food still struck her as odd, but that was probably what they exactly were supposed to talk about. There wasn't much room to dwell on it, though. Baby's irritated glare had kept her from drifting off-topic: "Seriously? What kind of idiot do you think I am?"

"Are you telling me… Eggs and bacon were a thing four hundred years ago?"

That earned her a sharp eye-roll and a dry look, the corner of her mouth twitching with disbelief.

"I'm twenty-five, smartass."

Then, just a beat of confused silence.

"Wait, what?"

"Technically, twenty. My body stopped aging the second Gwi-Ma took over. It's like I've been twenty ever since. And yeah, five years less sounds like nothing, but if I do start aging again... Guess I'll outlive the rest of y'all." -to be fair, that was not his smartest take- "Unless this whole not aging thing is permanent."

What should've been a moment of clarity for him quickly turned into questions for her: "Start aging again? What do you mean?"

"That's what I'm trying to explain. After that whole mess at Namsan Tower, me and Romance made it out. Barely. Thanks for that, by the way. Anyway... Things started changing. A lot. It's like half of our essence turned human again, but not completely. And the only people who might know what the hell that means... Are you guys. So... Here I am, I guess."

Zoey was clearly thrown off. Her eyebrows knit together as she processed the weight of his words: she had never heard a demon open up like this, and her reaction slipped out almost without thinking.

"That's... Really weird."

Of course, that wasn't quite the reaction Baby had hoped for. He'd expected more, he thought talking to her would bring some kind of answer. However, apparently, she was just as clueless as he was.

"Look, I'm not a demonology expert. We spent our lives training to fight you… Not to study you. What little I do know comes from Rumi. She's an half-demon, but she only started accepting that side of herself, like… Six months ago. She's still figuring it out. And old habits? They die hard."

Zoey wasn't just talking about the combat instincts or the fear of demons. She was referring to how she was only starting now to accept help, and to stop pretending she could handle everything on her own. And even that, sometimes, felt like dragging a mountain uphill. Which is exactly why Zoey didn't believe that Rumi could possibly know more than she did.

"So... You can't help us?"
"It's not that we can't help, it's just…"

She didn’t get to finish the sentence. Another voice, sleepy and unimpressed, cut in: "Morning, Zoey. Who are you talking to?"

"Hi Mira!" Zoey lit up, flashing a bright smile, as if nothing strange was happening and a literal demon wasn't sitting across from her. Her energy really was an odd, sharp contrast to the overall tense room.

"Well, well. Look who's back."

Of course, things hadn’t magically fixed themselves overnight. Not even close.

The air between them felt thick, charged like a storm about to break. And it broke quickly. In a blink, Mira summoned her weapon, and the next second its blade hovered inches from Baby's face, so close he could probably smell the cold, metallic scent of the steel.

"You? Again? Didn't I make myself clear last night?"

Zoey jumped in instantly, pushing her weapon down with visible effort: "No! Chill! He's talking about something important! And… Wait, what do you mean last night?!"

"Okay, sis. Just because you played the grief card with Romance and kept him away from here, doesn't mean it worked on me. I moved the hell on months ago."

Silence took over once more.

Not awkward. Not heavy. Just... pure tension. That kind of tension that gets under your skin. That messes with your brain. That makes it impossible to even breathe right. Wordless and deafening at the same time.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

"Cut the bullshit!" Mira snarled, her voice low and sharp like her gok-do. "I'm not falling for your games."

"Damn, okay sis! Relax."
"And don't call me sis!"

"Alright, buddy, relax." Baby smirked, fully aware of how much that was going to piss her off. And it worked. "Look, we just need to talk. That's it. We need answers. Something is wrong with us, and we are trying to figure out what the hell it is."

Unlike Zoey, Mira wasn't too keen on sitting down for storytime with a demon: every cell in her body was screaming trap. But after that look from Zoey, that one look that basically begged her to try, she sighed: "Fine! Let's hear it. But one wrong move and I'll tear you apart and I'll use your guts to make soup!"

So, Baby talked. Everything the girls needed to know started pouring out. The aftermath. The months holed up in that run-down motel. The strange side effects of the Honmoon. Everything. And, surprisingly, both girls leaned in closer, their eyes sharp, their minds hungry for answers. Questions, lots of questions, started flowing almost spontaneously.

"There's one thing that's bugging me," Zoey said, lost in her usual tornado of barely-held-together thoughts. "You said you're twenty-five, right? So like... Weren't you already part of this society? Why hiding in some crusty motel and living off takeout for six months, instead of just... Starting over?"

Something in Baby's eyes shifted.
It was subtle, but Mira noticed.
She'd seen that look before.
That very same humanity from last night.

For a moment, a silent recognition passed between them, something like an unspoken understanding. Mira's chest instinctively tightened, as if a cold knot of unease settled deep inside her. She knew all too well where all of that was leading.

She didn't know how, neither why, but she could feel it with all her senses.

And then, the fateful question.

"...Family issues?"

The words hung in the air, fragile and raw, as if speaking them aloud made everything more real. But she didn't expect an answer. She didn't even want one, to be fair. But just for a second... She felt a little less alone.

And she felt she could give him a chance.

"I... I don't wanna talk about it. Not now."

The room fell into another heavy silence, thick enough to suffocate.

But then, without warning, another voice pierced the stillness, making the tension disappear in an instant.

"Morning, girls! Who's the plus one?"

Finally, Rumi -the only person who might actually have real answers- decided to wake up and join that strange situation.

"Good morning, Rumi!" the girls greeted her, cheerfully, acting like everything was peachy and they totally weren't having a deep, awkward breakfast chat with a literal demon.

Not that Rumi cared that much, by the way. In fact, she didn't even bother reaching for her sword.

And even if she tried, her arms wouldn't obey her. Suddenly, they froze as if caught in an invisible trap.

The air in the room thinned in an instant: dry, sharp, impossible to breathe. It pressed against Rumi's chest like an invisible weight, and for a moment, her lungs forgot how to work.

The world began to unravel.

Shapes and colors smeared at the edges, slipping into a dizzying blur as reality drifted further and further away. Her vision swam, and the floor felt like it was tilting beneath her feet.

Then… Pain.

A sudden, burning stab tore through her chest, white-hot and blinding. Right over her heart, something was trying to claw into her, fingers of fire trying to rip it out.

Meanwhile, across the table, Baby gasped. His body jerked back as if yanked by an invisible rope. His hands flew to his throat, eyes wide with panic, choking on air that wouldn't come.

And it happened.

The patterns on their skin began to glow. Faint at first. Then brighter, like veins of molten lava beneath the surface: pulsing with heat, with power, with something greater than either of them could understand.

The high-pitched ringing in both of their ears surged, shrieking through their skull like a scream trapped in metal. It drowned out the room. Drowned out Baby's gasps. Drowned out the sound of Rumi's own heartbeat… Until she wasn't sure if it was still beating at all.

All at once,
everything went black.

Chapter Text

"Rumi… Rumi, can you hear me...?"

In the darkness of her mind, the echo of a distant voice was the only thing that slowly pried her eyes open. To her great astonishment, however, there was no one in front of her, nor nothing. Only the sensation of thin, rarefied air.

Rumi sat up -her body reduced to a hollow shell, weightless and disconnected- and tried to get her bearings, though it was clearly in vain: the world around her looked the very same in every direction. Miles and miles of a shapeless space, where a hazy blend of lavender and pale blue stretched endlessly outward. Tiny, muffled particles of light floated gently around her, perhaps the only faint trace of matter in a place, otherwise, entirely suspended from reality.

"Can you hear me?"

That same voice echoed again through the space, sending a slight, nearly imperceptible shiver through the air, as if the place itself had taken a breath.

Confused, Rumi tried to turn her head in every direction, as much as the heavy slowness of the moment allowed her to, hoping to locate the source of the voice.

"Don't worry. I'm here with you."

"W-Who are you…?" the girl asked, her trembling voice echoing with such intensity that even the quiver in her words seemed to reverberate.

"Come on. You know exactly who I am."

Her mind suddenly froze. Her heart skipped a beat, and then pounded so loudly that she could feel its echo through her whole body. In her head, under her skin, in the very space around her, which had begun to stir, almost as if following that rhythm. And her lips… Her lips trembled.

They were afraid to say that name.
Afraid to speak it aloud.
Fearful. Intimidated. Crushed by the weight of it.

But they did.
Almost whispering it.
As if they didn't really want to hear it.
As if hearing it would only pour more salt into a wound that hadn't even begun to heal; more fuel into a fire that refused to die, and continued to char everything it touched.

"J-Jinu...?"

It was just a breath, yet so powerful in its resonance, that it made even the stillness of the void around her tremble again.

"Six months, and you've already forgotten the sound of my voice? That hurts."

The moment she realized it, something inside her stopped. Her body jolted at the recognition, immediate and visceral, as if it understood before her mind could even catch up. Goosebumps rose along her arms.

It really was him.

Her breathing quickened. Her eyes started to sting. Her head rapidly became a tangled mess of clashing emotions. She didn't even know which ones to listen to. Fear, longing, disbelief, hope. Each one screamed over the other, and none of them made sense.

"No. No, this can't be real. I'm going crazy. Missing you is driving me completely mad."

Rumi wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to hold together the pieces that had long since shattered. Part of her begged every god she could name for this to be real. But unfortunately, her common sense -cold, sharp and relentless- was convinced it was nothing more than a trick of her mind, a side effect of the tears, the grief and the hollowing absence that had pierced through her chest and never mended.

"I promise you're not going crazy."

His voice was steady. Warm. So him it hurt.

"This isn't possible!" she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of disbelief, trying desperately to drown out the raging storm tearing through her mind. "You died! You died right in front of me! There's no other explanation, I must be losing my mind!"

"I didn't die! None of us did! You freed us, all of us. We just need to get out of here. But I swear to you, I swear we're alive! I'm alive!"

"I don't know if you're real or just something in my mind, but please… I'm begging you... If you're really here…"

Her voice still trembled, raw like skin torn open. Her mind still wandered, drifting in and out of moments that didn't line up anymore, like film burned and stitched back together wrong. Her eyes burned, as if someone had poured acid into them. Desperate to cry, to release the hottest, most broken sobs she'd ever known, but the tears wouldn't come. They stayed trapped somewhere deep, stuck between terror and longing. Her chest crushed under a weight, the very specific weight of something that could be true, but wasn't solid enough to see, to touch, to hold. Just barely enough to believe, and yet not enough to be sure she wasn't falling deeper into a void darker than anything she'd ever imagined.

"I know what you're trying to say.
But I don't have much time left. You'll wake up soon, and I won't be able to speak to you again… Not until you awaken the other sleeping soul."

That dizzying sense of confusion brought on by words that felt foreign, obscure, maybe even cryptic, only deepened the cracks in her already fragile state of mind.

"Sleeping soul? ...What are you talking about?" she asked him, the desperation now spilling out of her voice without restraint. Rumi no longer cared how she sounded, she just needed answers. Real, solid ones. Answers she could hold on to. Answers that might help her act, protect herself, reclaim a sense of control that had all but slipped through her fingers in those last agonizing minutes, suspended somewhere between an alien reality and a destructive kind of madness.

"There's no time for that. Just do one thing for me. Help them. Bring them there. Both of them."

"Who? Who am I supposed to bring? And where? What does there even mean? Please, don't speak in riddles… Please!"

"You're waking up. There's no more time. Just remember, I'm right beside you. Even if you can't see me, I'm always with you. Always."

"No! No, please! Help me understand! Please! Please Jinu, I'm begging you!" she screamed, clutching her head with both hands as tears poured uncontrollably from her eyes. Another high-pitched ringing started to grow in her ears, becoming unbearable in a matter of seconds and drowning out even her own voice. That weightless, ghostlike landscape of pale blues and violets was dimming fast, unraveling around her, collapsing into darkness. And then, she felt it. She felt something snapping. A crushing heaviness seized her from within, flooding her limbs with such brutal force that she could no longer stand against it. Rumi was collapsing, spiraling downward, dragged into the pull of a merciless gravity that hurled her -body and soul- straight into the gaping jaws of an imaginary abyss.

And suddenly, her eyes flew open.

"Oh my God! You're awake!"
"Thank goodness! We were so worried!"

Mira and Zoey's voices, overlapping in urgency and relief, were the first thing to reach Rumi, long before her eyes could make sense of the real, familiar world around her. And once her vision settled, her friends' faces echoed the same mix of fear and comfort, doing their best to soothe the storm though it still rumbled beneath the surface.

"Do you even realize you were out for five whole minutes? That's like three minutes over the usual!" Zoey blurted out, gripping her shoulders with both hands, her voice pitched higher than normal, crackling with nerves. "Do you know I was this close to calling an ambulance? I thought you were dead! I was already drafting your eulogy and thinking about the funeral playlist! Don't ever do that again! Or else I'll actually die, and you'll have to write my speech!"

"Come on. Don't be so dramatic," Mira chimed in with a small, amused smile, a quiet laugh -half nerves, half relief- escaping her lips. However, her gaze quickly sobered as it returned to the figure lying on the bed: "But... Yeah. Zoey's right. We were seriously worried. Handling two people fainting at the same time wasn't easy."

Her voice had steadied now, calm but still tense, as she offered a glass of electrolyte water to Rumi.

But despite the gravity in her words, her eyes softened, betraying the genuine care behind them: "How do you feel?"

No answer.

Rumi's gaze was blank, unfocused, resting on the glass she'd just taken. She stared into the murky water, as if hoping to catch her reflection in that tiny and clouded mirror, but of course, she saw nothing. Even her lips didn't twitch.

"Hey... You with us?"
"He's alive..." she whispered, still staring into the water.

A dense silence fell over the room, the kind that stretches far longer than it should. And No one knew what to say or what to do for what felt like an eternity.

It was Mira, in the end, who broke it carefully, almost apologetically: "What?"

"I just... I just hope it wasn't all in my head. But I swear I felt him. He was there..."

"Okay, where exactly is there?"

"I was in... I don't know. Sort of a void, there was nothing around me. But I could feel him. I swear I did. He was right there with me..."

"…Rumi, I think you need to rest. You're still shaken. And that's okay. Trust me, we understand." Mira moved closer to the bed, sat down, and gently took her hand.
"We're here. For whatever you need."

"He said something about two sleeping souls... One still has to wake up… I need to bring them there. Both of them. I don't know who. Or where. I just know I need to figure it out. Soon. Before it's too late."

"Hun, don't push yourself. Your brain's been through enough already."

Rumi opened her mouth to reply, but Zoey jumped in before she could get a word out: "Okay! Time to change the subject! What do we need right now? Cute turtle videos, obviously. Let's give your brain something chill and adorable to focus on. A totally foolproof serotonin boost!"

"I... I appreciate it, but…"

"Not into turtles? That's fine. Sharks? Otters? Ooh, what about seals? I love seals too! Everyone loves seals!"

"Zoey..."

"Alright, alright. No animal videos. But we still need to get you feeling better. Something sweet, maybe! And drink your magnesium, please. Staring at it isn't going to help, you know?"

With nothing left to say, and knowing nothing could outmatch Zoey's frantic chatter, Rumi let out a loud sigh.

"Okay. We're bringing you something to eat. We'll be right back, okay? Don't move a muscle!"

The half-demon nodded faintly, her eyes still turned toward the door. Not that she could actually move, not with her legs heavy as stone, like they were fused to the bed. She waited until the door clicked shut behind them, and then she exhaled again, more weary than annoyed.

Was she going crazy?
It was the most logical explanation.

Yet, she wanted to believe that what she'd felt, that impossible, intangible moment, was real.
She needed it to be.

"Zoey… I get the feeling the grief is starting to mess with her head a little."
"I know, right? And she really believed what she was saying!"

Once the girls reached the kitchen, it didn't take long before the tension spilled out of them in words. The silence had stretched just enough to become uncomfortable, and there was no pretending they hadn't felt that kind of worry, thick and oppressive, hung in the air like humidity. Ignoring it would've only made things worse.

"I honestly don't know if it's better to play along or give her a reality check... I mean, treating her like some senile old lady would just break my heart."

"Yeah... I get it. It'd be humiliating. For her and for us."

"But seriously... What do you think she meant?" Zoey wondered aloud, clearly troubled. "She said she wanted to bring them both… But who? And where?"

Her question caught Baby's attention. Come to his senses, he was now stretched out comfortably on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, nearly knocking over the glass of electrolytes they'd left for him, and idly flicking through his phone.

"Sorry to butt in... Not trying to eavesdrop or anything, but… You know, you guys are basically yelling two feet away." he chimed in casually, eyes still on the screen. "But maybe she meant she wants Romance here with us."

The girls went stiff. The idea hit them so unexpectedly that, for a moment, they didn't even respond.

Then, Mira broke the silence with the force of a slap: "No! Not even up for debate! And you… Now that you're back on your feet, you can go home too. Congrats on not being dead or whatever, but goodbye!"

Even though curiosity had gotten the better of her when Baby began sharing his story, Mira still couldn't bring herself to trust a demon. How could she know if that whole tale wasn't just a well-crafted lie, meant to catch them off guard? Sure, the patterns on his body had turned opalescent, an effective sign of some kind of change, but that didn't erase his other demonic abilities. He wasn't human. Not even close. Caution was still the name of the game.

"Okay, look. I'll just say one thing."
Baby raised his eyebrows and waved his phone around with a bit too much flair. "I just got kicked off the spaceship 'cause everyone thought I was the imposter. And guess what? They lost. Because they didn't believe me. Kinda wild, right? Feels familiar."

Mira shot him a glare sharp enough to cut stone. And then she furiously snapped. Once again, she completely took his bait.

"Are you kidding me?! You're comparing this to that dumbass game?! And who the hell even plays that anymore?!"

"Well, I wasn't playing alone." he shrugged, completely unfazed. "And anyway, if I were you, at least I'd hear her out."

"She's talking nonsense because of the grief!" Mira growled. "This has nothing to do with you, so stay out! You don't know anything!"

"Alright, alright..." he replied, half-laughing under his breath. "I'm going to get him. Don't say I didn't warn you. Be right back, besties!"

And with that cocky little smirk he wore so well, he gave a lazy wave and vanished into his usual cloud of sulfur and smoke, leaving the two girls frozen in place, eyes locked on the now-empty couch.
One furious. The other speechless.

"You've got to be kidding me!"
Mira's voice shattered the silence like glass after a few moments, as her anger surged up and over the edges of her composure. And when her fists found a poor, innocent cushion, she began pummeling it in rapid, helpless bursts. "No way! No way! No way!"

Meanwhile, Zoey hadn't moved a muscle. Her body was still. But her mind wasn't. It had already started racing through possibilities, chewing on half-formed questions she hadn't even realized she was saying out loud.

"What if Rumi is telling the truth? Like, what are the actual chances?"

That stopped Mira cold. She turned slowly her face to Zoey's, not with anger this time, but with surprise: "Come on. You can't be serious. There's no way."

"But what would it actually cost us to find out?"

"Zoey, no! Are you hearing yourself? The odds of this being some kind of trap are way higher than whatever fantasy you're building in your head. We've already fallen for this once, remember? I'm not going down that road again."

"Okay… but don't you think we'd have noticed by now if it was fake? It's been six months. You really think they could keep up the same game, the same behavior, without slipping even once? I also heard Baby's stomach growling earlier!"

Mira's expression didn't budge. Her stance was clear: this wasn't even up for discussion.

But then came that look.
"Let's do it for Rumi…"

That damn pleading look that Zoey knew exactly how to use. It had that irritating power to dig through Mira's defenses and poke directly at her conscience.

Damn Zoey. She always knew how to push the right buttons, looking at you until you crack.

"Fine." Mira breathed through clenched teeth. "But only for her. I want that crystal clear. I'm not getting involved. I'll stay out of this mess as much as humanly possible. Got it?"

Chapter Text

"Rise and shine, heartbroken disaster! Time to pack your bags and leave this shithole for good!"

In the unsettling silence of a crumbling building, broken only by the sinister buzz of half-dead neon lights and the constant, maddening drip of a leaky faucet -somehow, both water and electricity were still miraculously working-, Baby's lively words echoed oddly across what used to be the first floor of a cozy motel.

On that foggy November morning, though, only one room was occupied: theirs. And by the time they checked in, it had taken on all the charm of a landfill. The red wallpaper was peeling off the walls like the skin of an overripe fruit, revealing the damp outlines of the bricks beneath; a thin strip of exposed wiring was all that held up the rusting brass frame of an old chandelier, swinging dangerously from the moldy ceiling and decorated with an unsettling collection of empty cobwebs; and the bathroom door had been carefully removed and leaned against a grimy wardrobe, letting the rancid stench of sewage waft freely into the air and blend into an ungodly mix with the musty, closed-in smell of the bed area.

Still, Baby didn't seem to notice any of that. He leaned back casually against the wooden stand of an old CRT television, oddly placed next to two brand-new gaming consoles and a modest stack of video games; and even looked relaxed, if not for the barely-contained excitement in his voice that betrayed him.

Across from him, Romance was sprawled on a painfully uncomfortable bed -missing several slats- and wrapped in a dusty, scratchy wool blanket. From the twisted expression on his face, it was obvious he'd just been yanked out of an already restless sleep, not only thanks to the mattress, stained with greenish patches and omnious smudges, but also because of the recurring nightmare that hadn't let him breathe since that cursed night.

"Leave me alone..."

"Leave you alone?" Baby repeated, laughing in pure mockery. "Not a chance! Not when I've got wonderful plot-twisting news for you!"

"No, I don't care about your new Fortnite record," Romance grumbled, shifting under the blanket. "Just go away."

"Ohhh Romeo, Romeo, screw Fortnite! This is about your Juliet..." Baby sang, flopping down dramatically onto the bed with a loud creak. His grin was far too wide to be innocent.

However, all he got in return was a groan: "Cut it out. Didn't you get enough yesterday? I don't stand a single chance with Mira. There's no point in twisting anything she said, she probably just wanted to insult me."

"Not her, idiot! I'm talking about your gym-rat boyfriend!"

Romance's eyes flew open, his whole body stiffening. In a flash, he sat up beside his friend, staring at him with an unreadable look, caught somewhere between sorrow and hope. And after a long, steadying breath, he warned: "Listen… Last night was the proof I'm not over it yet. So don't you da-"

"Bro," Baby interrupted, pressing a finger to his lips as the bed squeaked again with the slightest movement. "No one's emotionally stable after the death of someone who's not dead."

What had been wide eyes and tense shoulders suddenly exploded into full jaw-dropping shock. The same heart which started beating again six months earlier, now was racing like it was trying to break free from his chest.

"W-What?"

"Can't relate, but damn… Love really does fry what's left of y'all's brain cells, huh?"

"No. No, listen to me. My boyfriend's death isn't something you get to mess with, got it?"

"Messing with this? Me? Nah, you have no idea what I've seen. Where I've been. I swear on my parents' graves, this is not a prank."

"Oh wow, now you bring up your parents? You never want to talk about them, and suddenly their grave is your punchline? Do us both a favor, cut the crap before I lose it."

"It's not crap!" Baby shouted so loudly that, for just a second, it seems his eyes were turning gold. Even the stale air seemed to vibrate, and the bed creaked as if it might split apart.

"The boys are alive. And they need us. They're trapped in some kind of weird world made of nothing… And we've gotta get them out. I'm not. Messing. With you. Got it?"

Once more, the room hushed.

Only a misaligned tap in the bathroom chipped at the quiet with its irregular drips, while somewhere else water hissed and gurgled through rust-eaten pipes, flowing heedless of everything. It was a strange silence, thick with disbelief and wonder, with hopeful longing and cold rationality.

"...Are you high?"

That was it. Baby lost it.
His mocking grin vanished in a split second, replaced by a pair of blazing golden eyes and a low, guttural growl, sharp fangs clearly visible as his features twisted. The glowing patterns on his body, still shimmering with their usual iridescent hues, began to flare like hot lava.

"I'm not! Shut the fuck up and listen to me!"

Luckily, that transformation was exactly what he needed to prove how deadly serious he was. And the second his friend muttered an okay, whatever remained of his demonic self dissolved on the spot. His human face, all false naivety, slid back into place like a mask being pulled on.

"So, I blacked out earlier. And when I woke up, I was in this… place. Completely empty. Like, literally nothing there. And the only other one? Guess who? Yeah, Mystery. I swear, I couldn't even believe it. I had to actually touch him just to make sure I wasn't losing my mind. But dude, he was so real." Baby's voice cracked with a strange joy, like he was on the verge of laughing and crying at the same time.

"And how the hell is that even possible?"

"When he was dying, he found his soul again. And he gave it to me." he explained, glancing up at the ceiling with a half-smirk and paying no mind to the moldy galaxies creeping across it. "Mystery, you asshole… You made me cry for nothing! You got me, bro."

That unexpected meeting had genuinely made him happy, happier than he had been in a very long time, not since that damned unknown virus -five years back- had torn his world to shreds, taking everything from him. Even the idea of what life was.
But after years of nothingness, something had finally changed. He had hope again. The feeling that maybe things weren't lost forever, that maybe he had a shot. A second chance. And that he could take it alongside the people he'd come to care about during the wildest, darkest parts of his life.

"Okay, but... What's this got to do with me?"

"Well, if Mystery had that much respect for some random dude he knew for just five years, you really think your steroid-pumped boyfriend didn't give his soul to the one person he loved the most for, like, forty years straight in hell?" Baby shot Romance a cocky grin and jabbed a finger right at his chest, getting a completely stunned look in return.

"So… You're not messing with me?"
"Hell no, bro! This is why we're packing our shit and getting our asses to the Huntr/x Tower. Trust me, the rest will figure itself out."
"And what if it doesn't work?"

"Well…" Baby shrugged it off, speaking as if the whole thing was no big deal. "If it doesn't work, you'll just go back to crying in this dump for the rest of your life. You know… Like you've been doing anyway.”

Romance didn't say a word.
Maybe, for once, the jab didn't sting. Or maybe it did, but he was too tired to react.

And the silence that followed wasn't heavy or awkward, just... There.
Like the quiet before something finally breaks, or begins.

A long breath. A glance exchanged.
No drama, no big speech. Just a choice hanging in the stuffy air between them.

"So? You in?"
"…Yeah. I'm in."

Due to Rumi's sudden collapse, the girls had agreed without much debate to cancel all plans for the week and put everything on indefinite hold. After two months of flawless work, despite the heavy burden pressed down on Rumi's shoulders -and, by extension, on all of them- a few days off for health reasons -and probably not just that, judging by how things were going- felt more than justified. Bobby fully supported the decision, and responded with nothing but warmth and understanding. Take care of yourselves, he'd said, already rolling up his sleeves to adjust the project timeline with the rest of the team.

And they took his words literally.

By the time the sky had darkened, the clock had barely struck five. It was that peculiar kind of November dusk, one that crept in early, almost unnoticed, until everything was suddenly steeped in indigo. The city outside their windows pulsed with the restless rhythm of early evening: the end-of-day traffic rolling by in long lines of brake lights; people bundled in coats and scarves rushing through crosswalks, half on their phones, half chasing warmth; storefronts glowing with seasonal displays;  neon signs of bars and restaurants flickering to life one by one, their colors bleeding into the damp pavement like paint on wet canvas; and streetlamps casting long pools of amber light, soft and hazy in the mist, turning the sidewalks into glowing rivers of gold and shadow.

However, despite the life moving just beyond the glass, the girls still hadn't left Rumi's room. Zoey's strict bed rest only order was still in full effect, as evidenced by a tray of dishes resting on the nearby ottoman. And while only being allowed to get up for the bathroom -escorted, of course- was arguably over the top, by that time Rumi seemed was looking more like herself again. Enough to crack a smile, and enough to let herself get swept up in the small joy of watching adorable sea creatures bounce across their maknae's phone screen. Things, finally, seemed to be calming down a bit: for once, the thoughts swirling in her mind felt like they'd quieted, even if only for a breath.

But this was nothing more than a fleeting ceasefire. Baby was a man of his word, and his third surprise appearance in under twenty-four hours didn't take long. He materialized at the foot of her bed with all the subtlety of a stage magician pulling a rabbit from a hat; and this time, just like as promised, he wasn't alone.

"Sorry, we're late." he said, showing his signature grin. "With all those boxes of clothes, we had to make a few trips back and forth!"

The teasing tone in his voice hadn't softened one bit.

"Oh, and…Random question. Those smell like they've been sealed in a tomb. Think we could, I don't know… Maybe throw them in the wash?"

The reactions were immediate, though wildly different.
Mira, of course, rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't get stuck. With her arms crossed, she mentally checked out of the entire situation, as if distancing herself might somehow make it go away.
Zoey didn't seem too fazed, she just waved at them with a casual smile.

And Rumi?

Oddly enough, she didn't mind it at all. Maybe because, deep down, something in her had been waiting for this exact kind of disruption. Something that said this might be what she needed to shake off the heaviness lodged in her chest.
And that's why she started to offer help.

"Yeah, sure! I can show you wher-"
"Absolutely not, Rumi!" her friends cut in, voices rising in unison.

"You're not moving from that bed until dinner." Zoey scolded her, firmly fluffing the pillows behind her back and making sure she was comfortably propped up. "And only if you're still not passing out by then. Got it?"

After receiving a groan in response, she turned to the uninvited guests. "I'll handle the grand tour for you. Please, follow me to the laundry room…"

"Zoey, where do you think you're going with those two?" Mira snapped. Her voice was sharp, and her glare like a warning flare. She didn't even glance at the demons this time, her message was clear enough. "Just because I let you pull whatever stunt you're planning in our house, it does not mean you get to use the washing machine!"

"Oh, sorry!" Baby pouted dramatically. "Didn't mean to stink up your closets…"
"Closets?" she echoed, frowning.
"Yeah! Closets! Where else do you think we're gonna put our clothes? The fridge?"

Baby was loving every second of this. Oh, how he did. Mira falls for it every time, and he knows exactly which buttons to push. With every absurd line, he literally couldn't wait to see her cartoonish reaction: steam from her ears and fire in her eyes.

"You're not putting a single damn thing in any closet! Or fridge, for that matter! What is this, are you planning on moving in now?!"

His smug grin widened: "Wow, you got there all by yourself? I'm impressed!"

"Oh, absolutely not! Do whatever the hell you came here to do and then get the fuck out of my house."
"Sis, you still think we're trying to mess with you. But this isn't some prank. This is a necessary move. We've got a long journey ahead."
"Yeah? You wanna know what kind of journey I'll send you on if you don't shut that smug mouth?"

The tension in the room was heating up again. Baby and Mira were nose to nose, ready to go off like firecrackers. Romance leaned back against the ottoman, expression vacant, his eyes fixed on some distant spot beyond the edge of the room. And Zoey, meanwhile, was muttering some ideas to herself, on how to survive a shared living situation with two demons, without sacrificing their sanity... Or their souls.
Even if those demons didn't technically eat souls anymore.

And to Rumi, it all rang like an unmistakable alarm bell. She still wasn't sure if everything she'd seen and heard lately was real, or if her grief-addled brain had been mixing truth with delirium. But one thing she was sure of: if this had any chance of working, they needed to at least try. So, even if propped up in bed like a frail patient awaiting her final rites, she sat up straighter, drew a breath, and spoke with more authority than she expected.

"Guys. That's enough."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it had weight.
Enough to quiet the room.
And enough to turn every head in her direction.

"We'll figure all this out later. We don't even know what's going to happen once- Oh... Oh no."

"What's wrong?" Zoey's eyes snapped to her, watching Rumi's face go pale in real time.

She didn't speak.
She just nodded toward the floor.
So, Zoey turned. And in that split second, the color drained from her face, too.

Romance was collapsed on the ground.
Unconscious.

That place, that limbo washed in lilac and pale blue, had a disorienting effect on anyone who ended up there: echo rang in the air, sharp enough to make noses twitch; eyes drifted across the scene with a heavy, delayed focus, as if the world around them were wrapped in fog; limbs weighed down by something unseen, their strength leaking away like water through cupped hands.

It was as though the body itself was folding under the slow, relentless pressure of time, surrendering inch by inch to a stillness that didn't belong to the living; it was a strange, suspended state, part of a process that repeated itself identically for all. Romance was no exception.

Still trying to understand where he had landed, his eyes settled on a figure in the distance, a black, blurry silhouette gliding toward him, somehow both blending into and standing out from the dreamlike surroundings. And remembering what he had been told, the feeling of disorientation faded quickly, transforming into something else, something closer to restlessness, to excitement, to raw curiosity.

Suspended in the rarefied stillness of that void, he slowly stepped forward, as if even the air around him resisted movement. The silence pressed in on him, thick and expectant. His heart climbed in his chest, each beat faster, louder, more urgent; his lips quivered under the weight of a smile he didn't dare release; and his fingers fidgeted, tangled nervously together, as though trying to hold back everything building inside him. Something unbearable was rising, something too vast, too wild to contain.

It would take just a moment more, and the ticking time bomb inside him would detonate into something he wouldn't even know how to name.
And that moment didn't take long to come.

"Come here, my love. Come to me."

The distant figure opened his arms.
And with eyes already glistening from the first tears, Romance began to run, faster than he thought his body could move, feet striking the space like frantic heartbeats: he wanted to leave behind all those months of crying and screaming in pain; he wanted to believe the last six months were nothing more than a fading nightmare, just a brutal interlude before happiness could return to his life the way it always should have been. Joy surged through him, wild and unstoppable like a river breaking free after centuries of ice. A well‑earned reward for nearly two hundred years spent drowning in shame over something that never should have been shameful at all; and six unbearable months mourning the only person who had ever brought him peace. The very same person who, against every conceivable law of the universe, now pulled him into their arms, igniting fireworks in his chest. The most breathtaking constellation anyone could ever witness. And from his eyes, the tears poured, hot and unashamed.

"I missed you so much…" he whispered, voice trembling like a bowstring about to sing.
"Shh, don't cry now. I'm here." Abby murmured back, kissing the top of his boyfriend's head with the tenderness of a fragile butterfly's touch; his hand slowly, gently trailing down Romance's back; who clung to him like a lifeline, gripping his hanbok as if he never wanted to let go again.

"I missed you so much…" he repeated, sobbing hard, as if his whole body had been waiting to fall apart like this. And the space around them rippled softly, as if the very air longed to match their rhythm, eager to cradle the reunited lovers in the warmest moment imaginable. A moment so precious it desperately begged to last forever.

"Let me look at you…"

Without hesitation, Romance lifted his head. His cheeks were still streaked with tears: large, burning, and soaked in a wild, unnamable emotion that trembled beneath his skin. And his eyes took Abby in every single detail. Those strands of pink hair he'd always loved to weave his fingers through, catching the light like spun silk. That slight, vain yet genuinely reverent expression on his face, as if he was both fragile and fierce at once. Those chapped lips beginning to curl into a smile; a smile that, in that very instant, begged to be kissed.

The kind of kiss reserved for those who never got to say goodbye. Slow. Soft. A kiss that savored each heartbeat, each breath, something so easily overlooked in ordinary days. Romance had never noticed how pleasantly rough his lips were, like the texture of well-worn leather softened by time. How warm his hands felt when they gently cupped his cheek, grounding him to the moment. How the velvety fabric of his hanbok slipped silkily through his fingers, like a secret only they could share.
He'd never noticed any of it before.
And right then, he swore he'd never take any of it for granted again. And if he hadn't already, now he'd love even deeper, fiercer.

"You're alive… This is real…"
"It's real, my love." Abby replied, brushing  his boyfriend's cheek with his thumb.

"There's just one thing you have to do. Then we'll be together again. Forever. Among the living. Almost as human beings. Just one last thing."

"What's missing…? What do I have to do to have you back forever?" Romance's voice cracked as he spoke, fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of his lover's clothes.

"We still need her trust."

"Whose trust?" Romance leaned in, brow furrowing, a flicker of hope and fear fighting in his chest.

"You know who I'm talking about." Abby's lips curved into a faint, wistful smile. "Ah, Mira… What an heartbreaking beauty, so impossible to reach…" he exhaled a breath that sounded half‑longing, half‑sorrow. "…Only that girl can pull me out of this place. And only you can bring her close enough to try."

"She… She's not exactly happy about all of this…" Romance's voice dropped to a whisper, his thumb rubbing his lover's back in slow, anxious circles.

"I know. I can feel it." Abby reached up, brushing away a tear that had gathered at the corner of his eye. "But I know you too, my love. You're a good soul. Someone who ends up in hell just for being able to love more than they expected? That's a good person. And deep down, you've always known you didn't deserve any of what happened to you. Give her time. You'll see she'll understand."

"And what if she doesn't?"

His question came out almost like a plea, shoulders tensing as though bracing for the answer.

"She's good too. And you know that."
Abby's thumb traced gentle lines along his jaw. "She only did what she did because it's what she was always taught. But I promise you, once she realizes the kind of person you are, that's when she'll know she can trust you."

Their eyes locked.
Two gazes searching for their own reflection in the other's, each heartbeat echoing in the quiet around them.

"…Are you sure?"

Romance's voice trembled, barely more than breath.

"Yes. Just give her time."

Abby squeezed his hand, sealing the words with a silent vow. And the meeting ended like that, in a tight and lingering embrace, as if letting go might tear the world apart.

When Romance finally woke up, surrounded by worried faces, Mira was the first person his eyes searched for.

Chapter Text

"Oh, come on! What a fuss! It's like you've never had electrolytes before in your life!"

If five minutes of unconsciousness had already felt like too much, seven definitely counted as a full-blown tragedy: Romance's fainting genuinely worried everyone.

Despite having experienced it firsthand, Rumi and Baby still shared a confused, uneasy glance, silently asking themselves if all this time out was still considered normal. Zoey, on the verge of a full-blown meltdown, had her phone halfway to her ear, one thumb hovering over the emergency call button. And Mira -who had been keeping her distance and wanted no part in any of this- was, to her very own surprise, the first to bolt across the room, kneeling beside him with a hand already reaching out, not even realizing how hard her heart was pounding. And when his eyes finally fluttered open, under her unintentionally panicked gaze, she exhaled sharply, only then realizing she'd been holding her breath the entire time.

"No, and it's absolutely disgusting!" Romance grumbled, coughing and scrunching up his face in pure revulsion. "Back in my day, remedies were natural! This crap didn't even exist!"

"Hearing you talk like a boomer with those ridiculous faces is killing me." Baby's voice cut through the room like a knife dipped in sarcasm: sharp, unapologetic, and unmistakably him. The smug little laugh that followed was the final spark, practically daring someone to bite back.

And, of course, a certain someone did.
"I don't see what's so funny."

"Oh, right. I forgot you're allergic to fun." he shot back, without missing a beat.
His gaze locked onto hers with that trademark mischief; bright, knowing, and infuriating.
"But sis, you better start adjusting. I'd like to remind you that, at this point, cohabitation is basically knocking at the door."

Mira's eye-roll was so aggressive it was almost audible: "Yeah. Keep dreaming, pretty boy."

Unbothered, Baby chuckled again, clearly satisfied with himself. Then he leaned in, pouting dramatically, and flashing her a pair of exaggerated puppy-dog eyes: "You wouldn't be so heartless to kick us out to sleep on the streets tonight, would you? After we passed out and all?"

"You're acting way too recovered, if you ask me." Mira said, pulling away like he was contagious, already heading toward Rumi's bed. The same who -despite every dumb restriction she'd been told to follow- had gotten up, as if she was trying to give a little weight to the decision she'd just made.

"The guys should stay here tonight."

"Yes, totally agree! We can't just send someone home after they passed out for over five minutes! That'd be hypocritical of me." Zoey chimed in, only then realizing the bed was empty. "Wait. What are you doing up? Get back in bed, immediately!"

A groan exploded from Rumi, dramatic and long-suffering: "Oh God, let me stand! I'm getting bedsores!"

"Fine." Zoey grumbled, hands on hips. "But go lie on the couch then! I'll handle the guest rooms, and you're not lifting a finger, no matter what."

"If that'll make you happy..." Rumi muttered, clearly already halfway to ignoring her.

"Absolutely!" Zoey replied, with that overcompensating cheer she always used when trying not to panic. Then, she turned toward Mira. "Oh, and… Mira, would you mind giving me some help?"

"I thought I made it very clear I wanted no part in this circus."

"Oh, come on! I'm just asking you to throw some clean sheets on a bed!"

"Yeah, I'm with her." Rumi's voice cut in, calm, cool, and calculated.
She wanted the boys to stay. That was obvious.
"It will go faster if you both help, and then we can sit down and figure out what to do next. Sounds good?"

It didn't sound good at all.
And all the glances darting around the room proved it.

"You sure it's a good idea to leave you alone with... Well... Them?" Mira asked, already regretting how paranoid it sounded.

"Relax!" Rumi said, offering the smallest, most genuine smile. "What's the worst that could happen? If they'd wanted to hurt us, they had six whole months to do it. And I can handle myself, by the way."

"Yeah, but you weren't exactly feeling great this morning!" Zoey added, her voice rising half a pitch.

"Zoey, I'm not invalid." Rumi countered. "And besides, don't you think maybe…"

"Okay, okay. But if you're in danger, just... Give us a whistle or something, alright?"

"Uhm... You do know I can't whistle, right?"

"Rumi, come on! It's just a figure of speech! I can't whistle either, for what it's worth! Just… Do something to get our attention. And make it loud. We'll come running. Got it?"

"You'll see, it won't come to that." Rumi said gently. "Trust me."

"...It's them I don't trust," Mira muttered, her guard still fully raised, no longer bothering to hide how tense she was.

And right on cue, Baby flopped dramatically onto the bed, arms spread like a fallen martyr. "Wrong moooove," he sing-songed with a grin.

"And you… Just shut up, for once!" she snapped, whirling around, her face flushed red with barely contained rage.

Unexpectedly, a calm and steady voice broke through the tension.

"She's right. Back off."

The air in the room seemed to freeze for a beat as each pair of eyes snapped to Romance, visibly surprised.

Until now, he stayed silent, watching, listening.
But something shifted in him.
He wasn't about to waste the chance life had finally thrown his way. Not this time.
If peace and stability were really within reach, he couldn't mess it up.
In their position, playing with fire was something they couldn't afford at all.

"Trust has to be earned." he said simply. "And we can't expect to get it in less than twenty-four hours. If you keep acting like this, then yeah... We'll never get anywhere."

The words landed like a quiet blow.
So honest and undeniable even Mira looked shaken.

Just for a moment, something flickered across her face.
It wasn't acceptance, not exactly.
It was something softer. Something unsure. Something new.

Maybe, just maybe, a tiny seed had been planted in the back of her mind, one she hadn't even noticed, nor considered.

Not yet.

"...We'll, um... We won't be long." she said, clearing her throat. "Then we'll talk it all through and figure things out."

Just like that, the three of them were left alone, sitting on the edge of the bed, fidgeting, and stealing nervous glances at one another like they were trying to read minds, or maybe just guess who would speak first. The air above them was tense, full of awkwardness, questions, and a kind of shared suspicion, thick and palpable as the November fog beyond the glass.

"So."

Baby, still visibly dazed by whatever had just gone down to him, tried once again to break the ice, attempting to sound less like the walking disaster he usually was…

"Since you're the silent one…"

…And failing spectacularly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rumi's eyes narrowed, her expression sharp as glass. Baby's whole nice guy thing was gone in a heartbeat; and in the blink of an eye, he reverted to his usual self.

"Nothing! You just give off major spineless energy. Like, no offense, you never seem to have an actual opinion on anything."

"Spineless? Are you serious?" Rumi gasped, her hand flowing to her chest in pure drama, and eyes wide with a mixture of shock and outrage. "Who the hell even says that?"

He'd definitely offended her. Deeply.
Her expression said it all: scandalized, insulted, and maybe two seconds away from setting him on fire with just a look.

Baby blinked, halfway between confused and impressed with himself, like he couldn't tell if he'd just made a point or started a war. And Romance didn't hesitate: he jabbed her elbow into his side, hard, then shot him a glare that could've frozen time.

"Seriously, Baby? That is not how you get someone to trust you! especially someone who's clearly not sure about us."

The two of them locked eyes, one pair sharp and fed up, the other genuinely confused, like a puppy who just got smacked with a newspaper. And the middle of that tense little staring contest, Rumi suddenly spoke up again. Her voice cut through the air, calm but steady, like she'd just decided to screw it, and dropped whatever had been blocking her.

"Well… If we're being honest, I already trust you guys."

That shut them up.

"...Wait, really?" Romance asked, completely caught off guard. He tried to sound cool about it, but the tiny, hopeful smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

Baby just snorted: "Yeah, okay. Sure you do."

"Oh, come on." Rumi let out a low, knowing laugh, like she'd been waiting for that exact reaction. "You really haven't noticed? We've got something in common…" she said with a smug grin, her elongated canines glinting as both eyes shifted to gold, bright and gleaming like sunlit honey.

And even though she was wrapped up in a cozy terry-cloth pajama, trying to fight off the chill of late autumn, her patterns broke through. They lit up beneath the fabric, spreading fast across her body until they climbed up to her face, turning her already obvious human beauty into something even more striking. Something otherworldly.

"And here's the deal." she went on confidently, turning her clawed hand slowly in the light, like she was admiring a new piece of jewelry. "Either you've started accepting yourselves, or you've been freed from your curse. Or maybe both. Your call."

It was a hot July afternoon when her full form finally bloomed across her body like a rare flower pushing through stone.
Even though her eyes were clouded over, and grief clung to her ribs like a second skin, that moment was the first time her body had felt like it actually belonged to her.

Her acceptance journey wasn't clean, and healing came in waves. Sometimes it was gentle, sometimes it broke hard against her bones. And along the way, there always was something, quiet but persistent, whispering that she was wrong, broken, too much, or not enough. Until that day. 
The day no inner voice, not even the faintest one, dared to call her a mistake anymore.

And in that moment, without even realizing it, her subconscious fully embraced the new, revealing traits it had never shown her until then.

And the first thing anyone had said to her?
Damn, girl. Those fangs are hot.

For the first time, she looked herself in the mirror and completely believed it.
And that was the only thing that ever managed to lift the weight of a grief that still wrapped itself around her like chains.
It was the only reason she could still look at herself and smile, even when her face was swollen and red from crying.

"Well, looks like we do understand each other." she finally said, answering her own question. The boys, in fact, didn't say a word. Not because they weren't thinking a million things at once, but because none of those thoughts could make it past their lips.

Even though they knew, vaguely remembered, that there was something demonic about her, none of them had thought it'd ever help them. Especially not when her patterns were something she'd been born with, not something she'd acquired as a curse. There was a big, huge difference. And whether they said it out loud or not, they all felt it.

"Uhm… Is something wrong?"
"N-no! No, it's nothing!" Romance burst out, clearly flustered. "It's just… I mean… Thanks. For trusting us."

"Well, of course." she said, her features softening as her body slowly returned to a more human state.
"I just have a couple questions for you guys, if that's cool."

"After all this?" Romance continued.
"Ask whatever you want."

"Okay, well…" She started, taking a breath.
"…Did you guys end up in that place too?"

Meanwhile

"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure. Even two, if you need."

Mira didn't have to be in the middle of that messed up situation to feel the weight of it. For her, staying on the sidelines didn't mean all the doubts, all the unease, and all the quiet panic just stopped existing. And deep down, after the whirlwind of the past hour, she was practically craving a moment to let it out, and talk to someone who wouldn't feed her meaningless reassurances. And the hush of the guest floor was just perfect for that. There, her voice could tremble as much as needed, and loosen just enough to spill what she had been holding in.

"How far can someone go, when they're pretending?"

Her question didn't just land in the room.
It echoed. So strongly it seemed to animate it; settling on the dresser beside the bed, and lighting up the ceramic bedside lamp with a soft flicker; stirring the air, washing out that new‑furniture smell and replacing it with something denser, more lived.
It even felt like it left a thin crack -figurative, yet sharp- in a wall that had been spotless; as if that question changed its shape.

"Honestly? I don't know." Zoey replied quietly, inevitably adding pressure to that hairline fracture, while she fluffed a pillow with more care than necessary.

"And yeah, I know what you're trying to say. Don't worry, I get it." She looked up at her best friend with tired but clear eyes.
"You have every reason to want to stay out of this. No one expects you to put blind trust in someone who, six months ago, was out there killing people to feed off their souls. That would be… Insane. But some things? You can't fake them. You can't force a stomach to growl. You can't decide to faint on cue. And you saw it too, they were out cold. Completely gone."

Her words stretched across the room, bouncing off the walls like the space itself was unfamiliar with the weight of secrets. And both of them noticed how the air changed the moment they stopped moving, and turned together to look out the large window. The city beyond it was alive and glowing with movement, the after-work rush still pulsing through its veins.

"You know, I said the same thing to Rumi last night…" Mira's voice was barely above a whisper now. "There's something too human about them. I noticed it in the way their expressions changed at certain words. It wasn't rehearsed. I know that. But… If this whole thing turns out to be a trap…" She hesitated, swallowing. "I'm scared I will fall for it. Completely."

The pink-haired girl pressed her fingertips to the cold glass, tracing a faint line without realizing it. In the distance, a glimpse of the Honmoon shimmered, its waves still wild and radiant as ever, as if nothing could ever reach above its sealed surface; and there really was nothing to worry about.

"Just remember one thing..."
Zoey stepped closer, not just physically, but also emotionally, like she was letting Mira borrow her balance for a second. 
"…Eventually, all masks fall."

There was a silence so still that the pulse of the iridescent barrier outside -pressing in, more unyielding than ever- was almost audible. But then the words returned tense, and no longer trying to pretend otherwise.

"And what if they don't?"

Zoey tilted her head, thinking. 
Then she let out a breath, resting a hand gently on Mira's shoulder, not to comfort, but to anchor: "Then maybe they already fell six months ago. Or maybe..."
She paused, choosing her next words carefully.

"…Maybe they never wore one."

Mira lowered her gaze, her expression unreadable.

"Is there a way to know... Before everything we've built comes apart?"

Zoey looked out toward the skyline, jaw clenched slightly.
Then, she let out one single word.

"Maybe."

Chapter Text

Dinner passed in near silence, broken only by the soft clatter of plates and chopsticks. No one spoke, each of them was too lost in thought, too focused on silently reading the others in ways words could never reach. And when the meal ended, everyone retreated to their rooms with nothing more than a quiet goodnight: the bare minimum, offered out of habit more than warmth.

The two guests, welcomed into the soft comforts of their temporary sanctuaries -mattresses soft as clouds, the fresh scent of laundry gently brushing against their nostrils and, above all, the unparalleled satisfaction of a moment of privacy- soon fell into the arms of Morpheus.

Zoey was no different.
Nestled in the familiar embrace of her own room, she surrendered to fatigue before her usual bedtime writing session could even begin to bloom.

And even Rumi, astonishingly -after more than a hundred and eighty nights in which nothing had managed to bring her proper rest- seemed to close her eyes faster than usual. There was no doubt: the day just passed had reignited a small, flickering spark of hope within her; especially after receiving a clear, undeniable answer to everything.

She believed in what she had seen.
She believed it, with every fiber of her being.

Only Mira found no peace.
Caught in the aftermath of a day that defied all logic, she let her survival instinct take over.
No bed awaited her that night; no pillow would cradle her head and quiet her racing thoughts; no blanket would shield her from the growing storm of paranoid feelings taking shape in her mind. Her only companion would be an endless line of coffee cups, each stronger than the last.

Usually, she thought, it's when everything falls silent that evil begins to stir.
In that precise moment when the lights go out, and everyone's invisible armor is laid to rest on the nightstand, maybe beside a well-worn book or a half-full glass of water.

That's why she couldn't afford to be caught off guard at all.

She would sleep, eventually.
Just not when the girls did.
It would be much easier, that way.
An unspoken pact of mutual protection.

So, like a sentry on her very first night of duty, her right hand wrapped tight around her gok-do until her palm began to sweat, she sat at the bottom of the staircase, eyes fixed on the guest rooms, both doors closed, both steeped in a silence far too lifeless to be reassuring.

Hours passed uneventfully, slipping past in the quiet battle between her frenzied thoughts and her eyelids -heavy as boulders- begging her to give in, to rest.
After all, by that point in the night, nothing could truly change anymore.

Until the sudden click of a lock snapped her senses back to full alert.

Mira jolted violently.
A chill ran straight down her spine as she tightened her grip on the weapon -both hands slick with sweat, her heart pounding in her ears, and her breath reduced to short, panicked gasps- begging her fingers not to fail her. Not now. Not like this.

She knew something was coming.
She could feel it.
She'd felt it since that morning.

And yet she was there, frozen and powerless, eyes darting wildly between the two doors, praying nothing had gone wrong.

But deep down, she wanted to run.
She wanted to scream loud enough to wake the other girls, to bring them running to her side. But her brain wouldn't cooperate.
It was paralyzed. Just like the rest of her.

And when her eyes landed on that door handle, slowly and silently turning downward…

She was sure.
This was it.
Something terrible was about to happen.

Her eyelids clenched shut, hard enough to hurt. Then, driven purely by instinct, she swung her gok-do, cutting through empty air.

Trying to defend herself from something that never came.

"Hey. Easy."

The voice was calm. Tired, even.
"I'm not here to hurt you. I'm just getting a drink."

For a few seconds, Mira didn't move.
Then, slowly, she opened her eyes; her breath still caught in her chest, the tip of her spear still trembling in her grip.

And there he was. 
Romance.

But nothing like she had imagined.

Dressed in an elegant pink pajama set, he was simply rubbing his eyes, half-asleep.

"Oh my God…" she whispered, finally lowering the weapon and pressing one damp hand to her chest, trying to calm the wild rhythm of her heart. "Oh. My. God…"

"Hey. It's okay." he said again, gently. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I swear. Come upstairs, if you want. You will see for yourself."

She didn't answer; just nodded slightly.
And even if still shaky, her breath slowed down.

Once they climbed the stairs, the soft sounds of a sleeping house, along with the gentle sipping of water, drove her thoughts to madness.

Waking up in the middle of the night because of thirst?
There was nothing strange about it.
It happened to her too.
Often.

It was normal.

So normal… 
So painfully human… 
That it felt wrong.

Suddenly, without warning, Romance moved. Mira's body flinched, ready to defend again, but he just walked past her. Casually. As if she wasn't even there.

He sat down on the couch, still holding his glass, and stared out beyond the window as if he could see that shimmering barrier as well; the one that -to her great surprise- had never once stopped glowing with its opalescent hues.

And then, barely above a whisper, he spoke.

"Have you ever wondered… Why humans sometimes end up among demons?"

Mira looked at him, puzzled. 

He was hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, slowly turning his glass between his fingers; absent-minded motions traced its rim as if trying to keep his thoughts from slipping away. His voice, barely louder than a breath, carried a quiet weight, sorrowful and worn, enough to draw her in.

And almost without thinking, she sat beside him. Her back remained stiff, her legs pressed tightly together, but still… She sat.

"I can't say I've ever really thought about it…" she replied, keeping her voice hushed. 
"Surely it must be something wrong in them." 

From the kitchen, the faint hum of the refrigerator filled the silence, constant and soft; and outside the window, thick clouds drifted low across the night sky, their slow movement casting shifting shadows that pooled gently against the glass wall.

"So…"

Romance paused, the silence stretching like a held breath, as if he was reaching up to pull the right words down from a distant shelf in his mind.

"…So you think it's wrong… Wanting to love two people at once?"

Mira's eyes widened. She blinked twice, caught completely off guard, before slowly turning her head toward him, as the weight of the question settled between them.

"…Why are you asking me that?"

Romance lowered his eyes and released a soft, melancholic sigh that seemed to dissolve into the quiet room.

"Because that's what happened to me. A hundred and seventy-five years ago."

His shoulders sank slightly, as if burdened by the ghosts of long-buried memories.
And her silence was an unspoken permission.
A fragile bridge inviting him to continue.

"I was born into nobility, holding a prestigious role. And, well, you might have guessed my marriage was arranged. Yeah, it was. But my wife… She was truly beautiful. Her eyes sparkled like stars, her smile could set the world on fire, and her laughter… Oh, her laughter was a melody from the heavens. I loved her, Mira… I loved her madly, with every fiber of my being. And she loved me just as fiercely. We had a happy marriage, built on trust and partnership, and I believed nothing could ever go wrong between us, if not for that official..."

Mira listened intently, her focus beyond simple attention. She seemed to drink in his words, as though they held the key to something unspoken inside her. Her posture leaned in ever so slightly, drawn not just by curiosity, but by a kind of shared ache.

And sensing it, Romance went on.

"…Every time I saw him, my heart raced in a way I can't quite explain, and stomach twisted just like it did whenever I saw my wife. I never believed it was possible to love two people at once, but that's exactly what was happening to me. And it disturbed me. Deeply. So deeply that one sleepless night, desperate, I prayed for a sign, for some kind of divine intervention."

He paused again.

His fingers clenched tighter around the glass, knuckles whitening as if bracing against a storm only he could feel.

"That's when I heard Gwi-Ma's voice for the first time. He promised to make it work. And I… I accepted. I gave myself to him, desperate but hopeful. And at first, everything went smoothly. When he wasn't sneaking into our rooms, we met in a hidden courtyard. We'd stare at the stars, share stories, laugh at people we shouldn't have laughed at. And even if our relationship was… Well, unusual… We were happy."

A bitter smile curled on his lips as his voice dropped an octave, heavy with regret. His eyes flickered with something distant: half memory, half mourning.

"We were, until they found us."

Romance's voice faltered again, barely a whisper now, as though the memory itself threatened to unravel him.

And a hush fell over the room, the kind that precedes a storm, the kind that makes even the walls seem to lean in and listen.

"I remember that moment like it was yesterday." he said, barely audible. "The door creaked open when it shouldn't have. And suddenly… Everything was exposed."

He drew in a breath, slow and uneven, as if it hurt to pull the memory into his lungs.

"Of course… It was a scandal. A scandal so enormous that-"

Romance broke off abruptly, the sentence left hanging, trembling in the still air.
Though shadows cloaked their faces, Mira sensed the first tears welling on his lashes. Moved by a quiet compassion, she closed the distance between them, straining to see the sorrow etched into his expression.

"That what?"

"They both took their own lives… To escape consequences far worse…" he forced out, the words breaking against the tightness in his throat like waves on jagged rock.
A sob escaped him, raw and reluctant, as if he'd tried to keep it buried but failed.

"And the voices… The voices never stopped reminding me, for almost two hundred years… That it was all my fault." he whispered, his fingers now clenched into trembling fists on his knees. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand, the gesture almost childlike, stripped of any pretense.

"But I'm… I'm just made this way."

Mira was quiet for a long moment.
Then, softly, she said just one thing.

"It's not a fault. I'm like you, too."

He lifted his eyes to her, uncertain and vulnerable: "Really?"

She nodded slowly, the corner of her mouth curling upward in something that wasn't quite a smile; more of a shared understanding.
"Yeah, it happened to me once. I had a girlfriend, and somehow, along the way, I ended up with two. If they didn't become so toxic, I'd say that was my best relationship ever. And yeah, I'd definitely do it again."

Her voice was steady, but her fingers fidgeted in her lap, twisting a loose thread on her sleeve. "So, believe me. I know exactly how it feels. And that was actually why I cut ties with my parents for good."

Romance blinked at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

"…Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, hesitant but genuine.

For a moment, she looked like she might. Her lips parted slightly, and her gaze drifted into the dark, somewhere distant, far from where they sat.
But then she shook her head, almost imperceptibly.

"No. I'd rather not." she said with quiet finality, her voice laced with something bittersweet. She looked at him again, and this time, her smile held. "But I want you to know something."

Mira leaned just slightly closer, her tone dropping lower, like a secret shared in the dark.

"This is the beauty of love. It has no fixed rules. As long as everyone involved is happy… Nothing else matters."

She paused, letting the words settle between them. Then she went ahead, in a gentler tone.

"If it's true that you've been given a second chance at life from now on…" she reached out, not quite touching him, but close enough that he could feel her presence. "…Don't bother with those who judge you."

Romance looked at her, as if searching her face for cracks in her conviction, but she held his gaze, steady and sure, her presence grounding him like a tether in a storm.

"They're probably the ones least satisfied with their own lives."

Something shifted in the space between them. Not a word was spoken, yet something passed, silent but charged.

And in that exact moment -too late- she realized that the night had disarmed her.

She hadn't meant to let Romance see that part of herself.
But it escaped.
In the worst possible way ever.

Not with force, but with quiet persistence; like water slipping through the seams of a boat: silent and constant until it fills the hull with a slow, sinking weight.

And now, she was drowning in it.
Ashamed she hadn't noticed sooner.

She had offered a demon reassurance. Humanity.
And it was a mistake.
A huge, disgraceful mistake.

How could she have thought it was a good idea to comfort him like that?
To give him something he could, sooner or later, use against her?

Her mind quickly scrambled for an escape route, grasping for anything that might offer a way out. But words came out half-formed, her voice cracking under the weight of confusion, while Romance, in front of her, simply watched, with a mix of genuine curiosity… And something else, greater.

It took everything in her not to crumble. Every sentence was a fight.

But then, just as she thought it couldn't get worse, Zoey burst into the living room.
Gasping for breath, panic etched into every line of her face.

"…What's going on?" Mira asked, turning her head toward her best friend, and seeing her clearly shaken.

"Mira, oh my God! Hurry! Come now!"

Without the need to be asked twice, she sprang from the couch, rushing in front of the other girl.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?"
"It's… It's Rumi! She's worsening!"

What had seemed to be Rumi's first real, restful sleep turned out to be nothing more than another fleeting illusion.
A few short hours were all she was allowed, before a violent headache jolted her awake. A searing pain exploded in her skull, beating at her temples with the maddening rhythm of a war drum.

And gasping, disoriented, she sat up abruptly. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts as her eyes struggled to focus on her surroundings. The furniture, the bathroom door, the ottoman… Everything had lost its shape, twisting and melting into a chaotic, swirling blur that scorched her eyes and knotted her stomach, nausea clawing at the back of her throat.

Then, the world shifted again.

A wave of unbearable heat crashed over her like a predator, clawing at her skin, choking her in her own sweat. At the same time, a flash-freeze struck her spine, an icy jolt that lit up every pattern, every nerve, every corner of her body. Her elongated canines began to chatter, as if an invisible hand had plunged her straight into a bath of ice.

Instinctively, she hugged herself tight; but even that brought pain.
Her own claws, sharp and unyielding, dug into her back, slicing through the soft fabric of her pajamas, biting into her flesh.

That's when the shadows began to move.
They lengthened; twisting, writhing creeping across the walls like living things.

Some might have blamed the lighting, or the tricks of a mind collapsing under grief.

But not her.

She knew that was no illusion.
That was someone.
Tall. Twisted. Leaning toward her with unnatural grace.

From deep within the darkness, a voice emerged.
It was barely a whisper, yet powerful enough to make her flinch as though struck.

"Now you're ready…"

Rumi opened her mouth to speak, to scream, to call for someone -anyone- but no sound came out. Only a broken rasp, like her voice was being crushed from within, strangled by invisible hands.
Her body trembled uncontrollably, though whether it was from the cold or pure, consuming terror, she couldn't tell.
Sweat traced shaky lines down her cheeks as her heart slammed against her ribs, each beat more frantic than the last. Her eyes, wide and bloodshot, burned in their sockets. So feverish and strained, it felt like they might burst from her skull.

And then, silence.

A sudden, heavy stillness settled over the room.
One that doesn't soothe, but suffocates.

"Take the sword… Now you can set me free…"

Her limbs moved before her mind caught up.
And as if possessed, she rose from the bed.

Not clumsily, not hesitantly, but with a grace too smooth, too unnatural to be her own.

Her gaze was vacant, unfocused, fixed on nothing, as her feet slid across the floor. Each step dragged her closer to the center of the room, like something ancient was pulling her in.

And that was when the others arrived.

They flung the door open, breathless, frantic, and stopped dead in their tracks.

What they saw rooted them to the spot.

Rumi.
Standing in the dark.
Still as death.
Her full demonic form laid bare.

"Rumi, what are you doing?!"
"Sweetheart, please! Are you okay? Let us help you!"

She didn't react to their cries.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't blink.
Didn't seem to hear them at all.

The voices barely registered.
All she could hear was the piercing, continuous ring in her ears.
A shrill whistle, rising and falling like a siren from another world.

And then, in a flash,
her sword was in her hand.

It materialized with a crackle of energy, its weight heavier than she remembered, like it had been waiting too.
But her fingers gripped the hilt with unshakable force.

She lifted it.

Her arms trembling, her forehead beaded with cold sweat, her body seconds from collapse.

But still, she raised it.

And with a scream that was no longer human, raw, guttural, torn from the depths of her being, she swung the blade.
One strike. Brutal. Unthinking. Instinctual.

For the first time in months, even the Honmoon responded.

Its color hadn't changed, but the sheer violence of its vibrations told a different story. Waves crashing with a ferocity that hinted at a rising storm, a spiritual maelstrom ready to consume everything.

It looked possessed.

But not by Rumi.
By something far older.

Mira and Zoey stood paralyzed in the doorway, clutching each other like lifelines, as if holding on might keep them grounded in a reality that was quickly unraveling.
It felt as though they'd been flung into the eye of some elemental tornado, a force so vast and unknowable that it stripped away every illusion of safety.

They weren't just afraid.
They were shaken to the core.
So deeply that the fear took root in their bodies, sickening and cold.

And then,
just as the world seemed on the verge of collapsing in on itself,
everything stopped.

The pressure. The fury. The oppressive weight of something ancient and wrong.

Gone.
Snuffed out in an instant, like a nightmare fleeing the light.

What followed wasn't relief.
It was dense, unnatural silence.
The kind of silence that follows catastrophe.
The kind that hangs in the air of cities turned to ash, where even the wind forgets how to move.

Cautiously, the girls crossed the threshold
Each step slow, like they were afraid the floor might vanish beneath their feet.
Behind them, Romance followed. Eyes wide, lips parted, as if words had abandoned him. Whatever he had seen… This was beyond it.

And there she was.

Rumi.

Collapsed on the ground, her body entirely human again.

She looked like she was simply asleep.
Peaceful. Untouched.
As if none of it had ever happened.
As if it had all been some fever dream they'd suffered together.

But lying beside her, still and silent,
there was someone else.

Chapter Text

"No way, bro! You're real? Like, actually real? Can I touch you, or would that be weird?"

"And you're not escaping me now! Where did you come from? And what even happened last night… Was it your fault?!"

At first, there were only muffled sounds.
A tangle of syllables and laughter, mixed with the distant, comforting aroma of food.
But as they began to take shape, her eyes opened reluctantly, as if a thin layer of glue still held her lashes shut.

Rumi blinked slowly, struggling to adjust to the soft brightness of the late morning sun filtering through the curtains.

It was a light she wasn't quite ready for.

A soft golden veil draped over the furniture, casting gentle, hesitant shadows on the wooden floor. Tiny specks of dust floated lazily in the sunbeams, drifting and dancing as if caught in their own slow-motion waltz. The air felt still, wrapped in a deep, peaceful silence that filled every corner of the room.

And she did woke up feeling calm.
Rested, even.
In a way that ran through her bones.

The blanket around her was warm and comforting, cradling her body with an embracing tenderness; and her mind felt clear and light, as open and serene as the sky outside the windows.

Everything was still. Everything was safe.
So ethereal, it almost didn't seem real.

And at the foot of her bed, bathed in soft sunlight, lay a large blue tiger, sleeping soundly. 
On his head, a tiny bird was perched.
Dozed just as peacefully, her little chest rose and fell with each soft breath.

At first, Rumi hardly noticed them.
Still wrapped in that dreamlike calm, she just stretched and smiled, surprised at how completely present she felt, at how her mind was savoring the moment with no other thoughts.

But then she heard it: the faintest gentle snore.
And a spark curiosity stirred inside her.

She slowly leaned over the edge of the bed, and the moment she saw them, something lit up inside her.
A quiet joy, bright and sudden.

"Well, look who it is…" she whispered, her voice soft and full of affection as she crouched down beside them.

The blue tiger stirred awake, and the bird ruffled her feathers. Both looked at her, their eyes brightening instantly with happiness at the sight of a friendly face, and welcomed her with a quiet eagerness, ready for morning cuddles and the gentle comfort of familiarity.

"…It's been a while, huh?"

A soft smile bloomed across Rumi's lips the moment the tiger lifted his head, pressing it into her palm with a tenderness that curled gently around her heart. Above him, the tiny bird let out a quiet flutter before settling on the girl's shoulder, her tail flicking playfully like a ribbon dancing in the breeze.

"Where have you two been? I haven't seen you since the day Jinu left us." her voice spilled out in a gentle laugh, already thick with affection.

And at first, Rumi didn't even realize what she'd said. The sentence had floated up, easy and unbidden like breath. As if her heart had spoken for her, skipping past the mind, past the filters, past the walls she'd so carefully built.

But then, the weight of it landed.
The words dropped like stones into a still pond.
And everything stopped.

The room, full of quiet life just a second earlier, seemed to still. The air turned thick, as though mourning with her.

Rumi stood frozen, her hand still resting on the tiger's head, her gaze lost somewhere far away.

That's all it took.
Just that one sentence.
A single thread pulled, and suddenly the whole tapestry of her thoughts unraveled.

Her mind tumbled back into the storm: flashes of memory, questions with no answers, answers she'd never dared to speak aloud. Every possibility, every impossible hope, everything rushed in like wind through a door left ajar.

And slowly -achingly slowly, in stark contrast to the frenzy within her- she turned her gaze back toward the bed.

The right-hand pillow was creased.
And she never uses the right-hand pillow.

Someone had slept there.

A jolt shot through her.
Her eyes flew open wide.
Her heart surged against her ribs, beating with reckless urgency.
Her limbs trembled.
First, her fingers. Then, her knees.
Tears, thick and sudden, welled in her eyes.
Not of pain, but of something wilder.
Hope. Fear. Joy. Disbelief. All tangled together in a breathless knot.

She rose in a single, instinctive motion.

And started to run.
Through the hallway.
Toward the living room.
Toward the voices.
Toward the impossible.
Happening right before her eyes.

"Oh, finally awake? Good morning, Rumi!"

The table was full and oddly peaceful.
Everyone sat as if caught in a still frame of domestic bliss, a snapshot from some perfect alternate life. It seemed like no one remembered what they were, where they came from, or most of all, what had happened the night before.

Baby, as usual, was relentless in his teasing, his words provoking with maddening precision. And Mira, of course, took every single bait, her voice rising in indignant replies, persistently fueling his antics further.

Meanwhile, Zoey kept talking nonstop, her words flowing like a stream of bright aimless gossip, as if commenting a reality show only her head could hear. Her tone was light, playful, effortlessly filling the room like the sunlight through the windows. Romance sat beside her, nodding along attentively, and occasionally chuckling or raising his brows. He looked like someone who actually cared, someone who was trying to hold onto something ordinary in the chaos of those latest days. And next to him, there was someone else.

Jinu.

Seated comfortably on one of the chairs -legs crossed and a warm mug of coffee in hand- he seemed at ease, perhaps even lost in the casual rhythm of the room's conversation. His gaze drifted from one face to another: Baby's animated gestures, Mira's usual exasperation, Zoey's endless chatter, and Romance's calm presence.

But then he looked past them.

His eyes shifted, slow and purposeful, until they landed on her.
Rumi, the one who had just stepped into the room.

And that was exactly how she noticed him.

"Ah, good morning! You slept in!"

Jinu spoke casually.
As if he did it every morning.
As if he'd never been gone, and he had simply woken up like the rest of them.

And she didn't answer.
She couldn't.
She just stood there, frozen in place.
Mouth parted. Eyes wide. Breath caught.

It wasn't real. It couldn't be.

Her mind began to spiral, trying to find an explanation. 
A dream? An hallucination? Some cruel trick of grief, once again?

"Uhm... Should we leave them alone?" Baby whispered from behind.
Zoey chimed in suddenly, her voice cheerfully forced: "Well... I haven't shown you the fourth floor yet! I'm sure you'll love it. Come on, follow me!"

No one dared to argue.
And just like that, the elevator doors closed behind them, their voices fading until there was nothing left.

The room was theirs now.
Quiet. Suspended. Timeless.

Rumi remained still, every muscle in her body stiff with disbelief. Her breath shallow. Her eyes fixed on him.

And Jinu was sitting calmly.
Not startled, not surprised, just present.

Even in the absurdity of his Minecraft pajamas -a loan from Baby, of course- he looked untouchable. Otherworldly. Like something too precious to belong to reality.

"Hey…"

Rumi didn't respond. Couldn't even think.
Her mind was a mess of static and echoes.

This definitely had to be a dream.
Some strange aftershock of her trauma.
Something her heart had conjured up because it was tired of grief breaking it.

So, she shut her eyes.
Counted to three.
Opened them.

Jinu was still there.

So, she tried again.
Three. Four. Five times.

Still, he remained.

Rumi felt the world tilt beneath her feet, her heartbeat so violent it hurt.
And then, she stepped forward.

Slowly, carefully, as if he was some wild creature made of smoke and memory, and the wrong gesture would make him vanish.

And the closer she got, the realer he became. Until they were face to face.

She lifted her gaze to him, looking closely.
His eyes in the morning light looked like honey, and his patterns -as pearly as hers- glinted softly, catching the sun rays like tiny diamonds. And that golden light that filled the room, painted his face with something divine. Something unearthly. Something so powerful it made her reach out.

Her hand trembled like a leaf in a storm.
Almost afraid to touch him, like he would fade the second her fingers reached him.

And the first tear slipped down her cheek.
Then another.
Suddenly, she was crying.
Not from grief, but from joy.

"Did you miss me…?"
He didn't need to say anything more.

She lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him, tighter than she'd ever hugged anyone in her life, like she could pour all her loss and all her longing into it.

And he held her back. Strong. Warm. Real.
His arms closed around her in a way that told her he knew everything.
Every moment. Every silence. Every time she cried without him.

One of his hands found her hair, fingers sliding gently through loose strands in a rhythm that was instantly soothing.

And in her chest, something cracked open.
The floodgates burst.
Emotions poured out of her in waves: hope, joy, disbelief. Everything collided like stars at the moment of a supernova.

"Oh my God…" she whispered into sobs, voice barely there.

That was all she could say. Over and over.
A trembling, fragile oh my God, while gripping him even tighter and burying her face against his chest, like she never wanted to breathe air without his scent in it again.

"You did it... You set me free..." Jinu murmured. His voice was steady, but she could feel the emotion just beneath.

"Oh my God..."

And they stayed that way.
For what felt like forever.
Not a forever measured in time, but in heartbeats.

At some point, even the others returned.
But no one moved. No one spoke.
Baby opened his mouth, ready to crack a joke, but Zoey cut him off with a sharp glance and a quiet voice: "Don't even think about it! She cried for six months thinking he was dead. You won't ruin this moment."

So they waited.
In silence.
Surrounded by dust motes, sunlight and the echo of something that felt like grace.

They didn't know when the embrace would end.
They just knew they were witnessing a miracle.

Still, she held him.
He held her back.
And for the first time in a very long while,
everything felt like it might be okay again.

"Okay. Now that we're all here... Can you finally tell us how this even happened?"

Suddenly, it was lunchtime.
Everyone was gathered around the table.
And Jinu was the last to sit down.

He owed them all an explanation.

Even with vivid images burning into their minds -all the panic, all the chaos, all the strange stillness after- it all felt like trying to recall a dream right after waking up. The details were there, but the meaning stayed just out of reach. And ever since they had to carry him and Rumi to bed, both inexplicably and peacefully asleep as if nothing happened, a hundred questions had begun to swirl.

Not just unanswered. Also unasked.
And no one knew how to even begin.

Jinu was the only one.

"Well. Do you guys remember when you started feeling sick? All three of you?"
He started explaining, looking straight at the ones who carried patterns on their skin.

"Yeah?" Rumi answered cautiously, sifting through the fog of memory and thinking back to that strange conversation she had the day before with Baby and Romance, the one that had left them all more confused than comforted.

"...Well, that's when you woke up inside the Honmoon."

"Wait, what?" she suddenly blurted out, her voice louder than she meant it to be, as she half-rose from her chair, eyes wide with disbelief.

And the room went still, like it had stopped breathing. Chopsticks hovered mid-air; chairs creaked faintly as people shifted, unsure whether to speak or wait; and even the light seemed to still for a moment, as if holding its breath with the rest of them.

"Yeah. And it didn't just keep me in there. It took the others, too. And their souls… They needed you. The carriers." Jinu went on after a beat, looking specifically at the two demon boys. "Making contact with Rumi was the only way to wake them. And now that they're finally awake… They have to leave."

No one spoke.
The words hung in the air, heavy and strange, like they didn't quite belong in the real world yet. Eyes flicked from Jinu to one another, processing, doubting, trying to make sense of what they'd just heard.

Then, Baby's face lit up like a lightbulb.

His eyes went wide, and a slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as something finally clicked: "Oh, yeah! Now I get it. You two, remember what I said yesterday? About Mystery? Bro already filled me in on some of this."

And across the table, Zoey nearly jumped out of her chair. The moment that name hit her ears, it was like someone had flipped a switch: she shot upright, hands slamming down on the table with a loud thud, eyes wide with shock and something dangerously close to hope: "Mystery? Did someone just say Mystery? Like… He's alive? He can come back? Are you telling me I still have a shot with him?!"

Jinu blinked, completely thrown.
"...What?"

"Oh my God, I knew it!" Zoey shouted, practically bouncing in place now, her grin unhinged and her laugh bubbling out like a pop bottle someone had just shaken and opened. "I knew my love life isn't doomed anymore!"

"Jesus, calm your hormones!" Mira snapped, yanking her friend back into her seat by the arm like a babysitter dealing with a toddler mid-sugar high. "Did you forget he's a demon?"

"So are they." Zoey shot back, gesturing to the rest of the group like it was obvious. "And one of them is our literal best friend!"

"One. Rumi doesn't count, you already know she's a whole different story. Two. They were supposed to leave this morning."

"Okay but, like... Jinu showed up out of nowhere, no regular clothes, no ID, no phone, no place to sleep, nothing! So we agreed they could stay a little longer ten minutes ago, remember? You said okay!"

"No, I said do whatever you want, just leave me out of it. That's not the same thing!"

"Come on, admit it." Baby chimed in with a sly grin, amusingly leaning back in his chair. "You're lowkey into all this." 

"I'm lowkey into breaking your face." Mira snapped back, not even looking at him as she took a bite of her food, her tone sharp enough to cut through steel.

The young man blinked, mouth half-open, a hand frozen mid-gesture visibly computing whether it was worth pushing his luck.
Obviously it wasn't. But he still looked tempted.

"Anyway!" Zoey cut in, trying to refocus while bouncing in her seat. "Back to what's actually important. Mystery's alive? How do we get him out? What do we have to do? Tell me! This is literally a matter of life and death!"

Jinu's eyes firmly locked on her.

"You two."

"Us?" Mira and Zoey echoed in perfect sync, eyebrows arching in surprise and voices tight with disbelief.

"Yeah. You have to offer up your weapons. Like Rumi did for me."

"Wait, what?" Mira blinked, her voice brittle with confusion. "Our weapons?"

"Yes." Jinu nodded. "One weapon can't do it more than once. Rumi's sword already had my soul inside it. It can't carry another."

The weight of the information didn't crash down. It drifted, slow and uncertain, like ink bleeding into paper. And it touched each of them differently: faint recognition in some, massive doubt in others.

"So that's why she couldn't see him... But we could see them..." Baby whispered, mostly to himself.
"Looks like it." Romance replied quietly.

"And… How exactly do we free the others?" Zoey's voice broke the silence, soft at first, but edged with growing urgency.

She leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes locked in. Whatever this was, she wanted to understand it. She needed to.

"You need to create a connection. One that lets their souls move into your weapons. The Honmoon will release them on the next full night. And after that, we can all start over. Properly, this time. We can build a career, and keep making music, just as normal people living normal lives."

"Okay, that's great! But, like… What does that actually mean?"

"It means you two have to act as the bridge. A strong one. Stable enough to carry a soul across dimensions. I know the Honmoon has a portal. I also know only you know how to get in. That part will help you, I guess."

Suddenly, her face lit up like a flare.
"Oh my God! Mystery, hang in there! I'm coming for you!"

She leapt to her feet, ready to sprint down the hallway like a hurricane in sneakers, but Mira's voice cut through the room like a whiplash: "Zoey! Sit your ass down!"

The girl let out a groan, and with a dramatic turn, she spun around and flopped back into her chair: "Ugh, fine!"

A beat of awkward silence followed.
Then, Mira's eyes narrowed at Jinu.

"Okay. How do you know all this stuff? You're not just making it up, right?"

Jinu leaned forward, eyes steady, his voice dropping low. "Look at me. I'm still here, aren't I? I betrayed the one who controlled me, and he tried to burn me alive. But looks like something stepped in."

He paused, his expression unreadable.

"The Honmoon doesn't do anything by accident. And you can even communicate with it. I figured you already knew that."

Mira folded her arms, suspicion all over her face: "Yeah. I can. Because I'm a hunter. But you? Please. Don't let me even start. At least for Rumi's sake."

"Okay, I'm not." Jinu's voice stayed calm. "But if it kept me, if it brought me back, it had a reason. Don't forget, the Honmoon is what keeps evil off this planet. If it let me return, that means something."

Mira stood abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. The tension in her was nearly visible, like a bowstring pulled too tight. And then, she scoffed loud.
"No. No, no, no. I've had enough of this crap. I told you already, leave me out of it. Don't drag me into your drama. I'm done."

She turned to leave, food in hand.
But before she could reach the elevator, a soft, almost vulnerable question cut through the tension like a thread.

"…Not even if I ask you to help me?”

It was Romance.
His voice was fragile, almost uncertain, hanging in the air like a confession.

"Not even… After what we said last night?”

The words landed on her like a punch.
And she froze mid-step.

"Last night? Really? Got a chance, Romeo?"

Promptly ignoring Baby's jab, Mira turned her head, eyes narrowing: "What does this have to do with you? You were never… Dead or something."

Romance shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, yeah. But…"

"Great. So, bye."

With that, Mira turned and walked straight into the elevator, her shoulders stiff, her presence leaving a vacuum in the room.

"I get the feeling you're going to need a whole new wardrobe. Don't you?"

Night had settled gently over the city, and Rumi, calmly but unyieldingly, insisted that Jinu would sleep in her room.

No matter how many times Mira tried to dissuade her, how many careful warnings reminded her that trust was still a fragile, flickering thing. She remained unmoved. And in the end, somehow, a resigned sigh escaped from her pink-haired friend's lips. The one who -despite her well-placed words and every wall she had so carefully raised- still struggled to stay outside of it all.

After all, caring is simply part of who she is.
She always has been this way.
She's always held the safety of those she loves as something sacred, something unbreakable.
And Rumi had always been one of them.

But sometimes, what brings peace to someone can feel like a distant shore to another.

And so, Mira did the only thing she could.
She let go.

She let Rumi laugh, while watching Jinu turning slowly in front of the mirror, trying on his borrowed pajamas like it was the finest suit in some imaginary dressing room, the glow of lamplight soft on his shoulders.

"Well, to be honest… This doesn't look too bad on me!"

"Oh, stop it. You're ridiculous." Rumi answered, giggling under her breath. "After you made fun of my teddy bears and choo-choo trains, you dare to show up with Minecraft creepers on your pants and tell me they're cool? Seriously?"

"With… What?"

"Ah, right. I forgot you're, like… Ancient."
"Hey! I'm actually still twenty-six!"
"Technically, yeah. But stopping aging doesn't make you any less clueless about this century!"

After everything that room had heard -all the sobs swallowed by the walls, and all the silence that had stretched for too long-hearing real laughter, for once, felt almost surreal.

It was so strange it echoed.
Enough to warm the soft glow of the lamp above, enough to bring a blush of color back to the crumpled sheets, enough to breathe life into every quiet, forgotten object around them.

And swept up in a sudden rush of joy, the two of them collapsed onto the bed; flat on their backs, breathless, staring at the ceiling as if it held some secret just for them.

Then, slowly, they sat up.
Leaned back against the headboard, close but not touching, letting their gazes wander across the lines of each other's faces: the way his eyes seemed to carry whole stories, the way her skin had found its color again, and the way the holographic shimmer of their patterns caught the light.

They smiled again.
But his, this time, was laced with something softer.
Something a little sad.

"You know…" he began, voice low, almost cautious. "If I'm being honest… I found Mira's reaction today pretty understandable."

Jinu leaned his head back against the wall, eyes half-closed, as if replaying the moment in his mind. "I know it's going to take time before she sees us differently."

Rumi turned toward him slightly, watching his profile in the half-light.

"And… I know what she said comes from prejudice." he continued. "But still… It's not without reason. It's more than fair, honestly."

She didn't answer right away.
Instead, she looked down at their hands, resting so close, not quite touching.

"The important thing…" she said finally, voice quiet but firm, "Is that you're free from Gwi-Ma's control now. That's what matters."

Jinu nodded slowly.
"Yeah. I agree."

Then, he exhaled through his nose, not quite a sigh: "I don't expect anyone to believe me right away. Not after everything I've done. Not after what I became."

There was a pause.

"Sure… I was forced. Kinda. Four hundred years of being broken down… They do something to you. And disobeying your abuser… Is not as easy as people think."

His voice cracked a little at the end, but he kept speaking: "But even so… I look back now, and I think… Maybe I should've done it sooner. Maybe I should've let you win, that day. I should've seen through that last manipulation. Maybe if I had…"

His gaze fell.

"…Maybe we'd all be better off now."
"Or maybe not." Rumi replied softly.

"It's true. You exposed me. And then, you sacrificed yourself leaving me in grief. And I… I spent so long thinking about it. But…"

She smiled. A small, glowing thing.

"But thanks to this, now I love myself. Every part of me. Even the demon one. Especially that part. It's what makes me… Whole."

Jinu turned to look at her fully, as if seeing her for the first time in that new light.

"I can see that." he said with a small smile, reaching out. And when he took her hand, the patterns along her skin lit up with a vibrant, pulsing color, like clear water and starlight woven together.

"Look how beautiful they are…"

She didn't pull away.
Instead, her gaze slid to his wrist.
There, loosely tied and slightly frayed with time, were two strands -one blue, one violet- twisted into a simple bracelet.
She smiled again, more tenderly this time.

"Well… Yours too."

His eyes followed hers, and for a second he seemed caught off guard by the memory.
"Yeah… I never took it off." he said, chuckling softly. "Refused to."

A smile passed between them.
One that said more than words could carry.
It sat between them in the silence, gentle and heavy all at once.

"And anyway," he added, shifting slightly toward her, "I wanted to thank you."

"For…?" she asked, glancing up with hesitant curiosity.

His eyes met hers. And this time, there was no shadow in them. Only the brightest light.

"…For giving me the chance to start over.
For giving me… The possibility of a new life."

"I… Well…"

"I mean it. Thank you."

They held each other's gaze for a moment longer. Not just looking, but seeing.

And in that quiet, the air shifted.

Something unspoken passed between them, something trembling at the edge of breath.
So powerful it felt like even the walls leaned in; so heavy it silenced every thought.
Except the ones neither of them could say aloud.

Then, she moved.
Barely. Just enough for her face to tilt, for her lips to hover near his.
Close enough to feel the heat.
Close enough to blur the boundary between one heartbeat and the next.

Their breaths met first.
Soft. Uneven.
Hers trembling. His held back as if afraid to break the moment.

Her reason whispered not to rush.
But her heart…

Her heart had waited long enough.
Six months of silence. Of ache. Of questions that had never found answers.

And when she didn't pull away, when she stayed right there within reach, he crossed the final inch between them.

The kiss came gently.
No fireworks, no urgency.
Just quiet, undeniable truth pressing into truth.
A memory rewritten. A wound closing. A promise whispered in the language of skin.

It wasn't just lips meeting.
It was everything unspoken finally allowed to breathe.

And when they parted, it took a moment to open their eyes again, a moment to come back to the room, to the bed, to the present.

"And by the way…" he said softly, still close enough for their foreheads to almost touch,
"…You look beautiful with your hair down."

She didn't answer.
She kissed him again.

This time slower. Deeper.
Letting herself fall into that place she had kept locked for too long. Letting the longing take shape. Letting her body remember that it was allowed to want, to be wanted, to feel.

And in that kiss, her mind stopped fighting.
Stopped questioning.

Because it was real.

It was hers.
Utterly, deservedly hers.

And for one night, finally,
the torment slipped quietly out of the room.

No masks. No ghosts.
Just the warmth of two souls that had survived too much,
now holding each other like they meant to stay.

Chapter Text

What would happen if someone woke up on Earth after four centuries, and had to find a way to fit into a completely new society?

It might seem like one of those idle questions born out of boredom, one of the whimsical musings that bubble up in the quiet hush of late-night conversations, when people remain seated on a balcony, stubbornly resisting the lure of sleep, while their heads tilt skyward in vain, trying to catch a glimpse of stars, hidden away behind the jealous veil of light pollution.

And yet, for someone, that question suddenly became urgently and unavoidably real.

The world had changed; technology had evolved into an overwhelming tapestry of sensations, each one different from the next; and culture itself had twisted, turned, and transformed into something unrecognizable: new social norms to navigate, habits that danced between the bizarre and the beautiful, ways of speaking that seemed like riddles. And Jinu needed to learn how to survive it, how to live in it.

Even when it demanded patience and help.

Thankfully, acquiring documents turned out to be the easiest part: that little demonic craft remained to him served him well, just as it did for Romance six months earlier.  And the people around, as if swept into a mass hallucination, simply assumed -without question- that he had always been a citizen of this most modern century.

Naturally, inside the Tower, that little sleight of hand didn't sit well with everyone: one person in particular took it badly. But, just as she had promised herself, she set her doubts aside and refused to get involved.
Of course, the first days were anything but easy; but over time, she learned to tune out the presence of demons under her roof.

After that cautious weeklong pause, the hours she spent among the mirrors of her dance studio, or the camera flashes of fashion shoots, ad campaigns and endless sponsorship deals became a welcome distraction: they helped her redirect her energy toward something else and avoid being pulled in by dangerously deceiving appearances.

Except for Mira, though, everyone else showed up with real, practical support. They were ready to help him navigate what could only be described as the strangest obstacle race of his entire human and demon life.

Its second hurdle was the phone.
And getting one was simple, of course.
As easy as pouring a glass of water.
But it would've been too perfect, if that had been enough: patience and determination had to kick in the moment that sleek new iPhone powered on for the first time.

Despite the flexibility of a mind still forged in its twenty-sixth year; there still was a mountain to climb, a crash course in survival: while watching him stare at that glowing artifact with wide and baffled eyes was frankly hilarious; it also carried a bittersweet undertone that couldn't be ignored. Managing to teach him how to make calls and send texts in just a week and a half -though it came with effort- was no small feat. And even if a simple hello was still typed out using a single, hesitant index finger, and Baby's roaring laughter -who never missed a chance to flaunt his native-born status in the digital age- echoed around them, Rumi and Zoey remained hopeful: they were certain that, within a couple of months, he'd show remarkable improvement.

Leaving aside the monumental task of cultural adaptation -which would be long, arduous, and brimming with complications- the last step was more mundane and more human: personal belongings.

A walk through Seoul's shopfronts was the perfect beginning; the perfect chance to build a wardrobe of his own, and not one stitched together from borrowed pieces.

One Sunday afternoon, finally free of work obligations, Rumi volunteered to go with him; hoping not only to help, but also to carve out some precious quality time, something she had long been craving.
And what better way to bond, than by playing guide to the marvels of a world that had fast-forwarded four centuries?

At first, the invitation had been extended to everyone.
But Mira, of course, voiced her disinterest with a blunt figure it out yourselves; and even Zoey, surprisingly, declined: she was desperate to finally secure an afternoon free from her long-postponed writing and composition sessions, to become the heroine her Mystery had been waiting for.

The day after she found out he was still alive, she rushed to the Honmoon portal without hesitation. But when she arrived, silence greeted her: she wandered aimlessly, the only sound the faint echo of her own grumbling in disappointed resignation.

She couldn't do it without his carrier.
Just that. No alternatives, no workarounds.

So, she chose to postpone her plan until she'd caught up with the mountain of unfinished tasks that had been haunting her for over a week.

And that Sunday, finally, was the right moment.
She turned to Baby, ready to ask,
but she hadn't even opened her mouth before he crushed her expectations with a casual interruption.

"Guys, mind if I crash your little stroll? You know, the new Battlefield just dropped and I still haven't bought it. Or were you planning on doing a whole lovey-dovey thing?"

"Not at all! Come along."
Rumi hadn't truly expected anyone to accept. It was one of those invitations offered out of courtesy more than intent, a gesture made to be polite, with the quiet hope that no one would actually take them up on it. But since the words had left her mouth, there was no pulling them back.

So, she smiled warmly and gave Baby a nod.

"Just… Wear something that won't get you recognized, okay? In this situation, the last thing we need is someone taking sneaky pics and starting unnecessary gossip."

Baby looked at her, a little taken aback.
His eyebrows twitched slightly, as if he hadn't expected this to come with conditions.

"Yeah, honestly, I don't really have much stuff to hide in." he replied, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "Not like I've been out much, these past six months."

"Well… No problem!" Rumi said brightly stepping toward him, a hand casually reaching into a bag laid on the table. "You can throw on any hoodie, even the one you've got on now. And I could lend you a cap, a face mask, or something else."

Suddenly, Baby's eyes shifted.

"A… Face mask?"

His voice sounded lighter, a little bit higher. 
To most, it would've been unnoticeable, but there was something off: a faint tremor, like a tiny crack beneath the surface.

"I mean, like, a surgical mask? One of those…" he started to ask, but the words immediately trailed off: the thought alone was enough, and the memory came too fast and too sharp, like touching something still burning.

But Rumi didn't notice.
She kept digging through her bag, cheerful as before: "Yeah! Or, if you want, I've got a couple of fabric ones. Don't worry, even if they are from Covid days, I've washed them plenty of times."

That answer hit Baby like a punch to the gut.

From Covid days.

And no matter how hard he tried to keep calm, at least on the outside. Inside him, the walls he had so carefully built began to crack.
He just knew they were going to collapse at any moment and, unfortunately, said fractures began to show: eyes downcast; fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie; legs trembling, ever so slightly, against his will. All too much to be unnoticed.

"…Are you okay?" Rumi asked, stepping in cautiously. She tried to read his face, but he wasn't giving her much.

Still, something was off.
His body said everything his mouth refused to.

"Me?" he laughed, too sharp to be genuine, lifting his gaze again. "Yeah. Peachy."

His fingers, however, were still clenched tight around his hoodie, twisting it like he could strangle the flashbacks before they took over. Then he looked away, jaw tense.

"I mean…"

There was another pause before he waved a hand, as if to physically shoo the emotion off his shoulder. "Ugh, forget it. Just go buy it for me."

Rumi blinked.
"Are you sure?"

"Positive," he said quickly with a crooked grin. "It's not like I'm gonna cry or anything."

The purple-haired girl hesitated, clearly unsure.
"…Alright."

Her eyes lingered on him for a beat too long, like she wanted to say something else, but didn't know how to cut through the wall he'd thrown up between them.

"Well, then… See you later guys, I guess." she finally said. And just like that, she took Jinu's hand and walked off.

Leaving Baby standing there, silent and unmoving, while staring at the elevator door.
His grin slowly slipped off his face like a cheap sticker on wet glass. His legs kept twitching. His fingers stayed locked around the fabric of his hoodie. And he blinked. Fast, uneven, like something was glitching.

"…Excuse me, sorry…" he muttered, brushing past Romance and Zoey and quickly heading toward his room.

Her confused whisper followed behind him.
"What… What's happening?"

Even under the crisp November sky, Sunday afternoons transformed the city into a vibrant tapestry of life. The cold didn't deter the steady flow of people flooding the streets -families, couples, and friends- each chasing something special: the perfect outfit, a charming piece to brighten their home, or a toy that would spark joy in their children's eyes; and the air buzzed with lively conversations and bursts of laughter, while colorful shopping bags swung from eager hands, harmonizing with the neon glow that began to flicker as dusk crept in.

And among the countless streets humming with activity, one stood out.
An artery pulsing with elegance and style.

"So, that's where all the shopping happens?" Jinu asked, turning his head from side to side, his eyes wide as if discovering a secret playground.

Rumi nodded with a knowing smile.

"Exactly, and it's my favorite place." she said, her hand slipping into his.
"Come on, I'll give you a proper tour."

Confident and graceful, she led him down the shimmering vein of Seoul's high fashion, a fascinating blend of old-world charm and cutting-edge trends. The boulevard was lined with sleek and modern boutiques, each window a curated masterpiece showcasing the latest designs from global icons like Gucci, Chanel, and Louis Vuitton; stylish cafes filled the air with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, mingling seamlessly with the subtle scent of luxury perfumes; impeccably dressed locals seemed to glide effortlessly between one chic hotspot and the next; and the ambient hum of soft music and distant laughter wrapped around them like a promise of endless possibilities.

Intrigued yet slightly hesitant, Jinu followed Rumi as they wandered from store to store. Rows of garments in sumptuous fabrics and bold colors teased his curiosity; and even if  styles and cuts were quite unfamiliar to him, he found them to be strangely inviting.
Every fitting room rapidly became a silent witness to long styling sessions: their mirrors reflected a shifting parade of fabulous looks and gloriously strange experiments, and inside those narrow spaces the air resonated with the rustle of fabric, the soft thud of shoes tried on and discarded, and the whisper of zippers being drawn up. Jackets with sharp cuts, smooth t-shirts, belts that cleanly frame his waist, and denim in every wash imaginable slowly filled Jinu's modern wardrobe like the words of a language he was just beginning to understand. It wasn't entirely alien: he had brushed up against this world in an unexpected moment six months before; but every outfit still left him with that subtle, compelling sense of estrangement, like trying on a version of himself he hadn't completely met.

And each time the curtain was pulled aside with a swish, a new lesson followed.
Every sleek and total black ensemble that sculpted his silhouette gained a delighted you look incredible!; while the unmistakable verdicts of fashion misfires came whenever he emerged in bold and clashing combinations, like purple and orange…

"Mmh… Let's pretend we didn't see that one, okay?"

…Or red and green.

"No way, you look like a Christmas tree!"

There really was no cruelty in Rumi's teasing, only a shared warmth that softened the air between them. Together, in that small sanctuary of fabric and light, they carved out a space where trying and failing felt safe, even joyful. A place where something serene was quietly beginning to take root.

"Okay, I think we're finally done." Jinu sighed with theatrical exhaustion, shifting the bags from one aching hand to the other, his fingers red from the weight of the satin ribbon handles digging into his skin.

"Yeah, I think so." Rumi replied, laughing as she reached out to take some of the bulging bags off him. One nearly slipped from her grasp, and she caught it with a little gasp. "God, how did we end up with this much?"

"Blame the mirror. It started this." he shrugged, a crooked smile spreading across his face. "And now… All that's left is that videogame Baby wanted…"

"What was it called again?" she asked, nudging her elbow against his arm as they started walking outside the boulevard.

"I can't remember." Jinu muttered, frowning slightly as he shifted another bag to free up one hand. "Maybe he messaged me with the name."

Rumi shot him a sidelong glance, amused. "You do remember how to open your chats, right?"

And he gave her an indignant look, fumbling in his pocket for the phone and waving it slightly in the air. "Of course I remember! Who do you think I am?"

She chuckled, and nudged his shoulder again: "Someone who knows what a phone is only since, like, ten days."

He opened his mouth to protest, but then laughed along with her, the sound bouncing lightly between them.
For a moment, all seemed easy.

Then, as they paused at a crosswalk, Rumi glanced up. The sky was dim and cloud-swept, and in that quiet fraction of a second, a flicker of worry slipped back into her expression. Her smile faltered just enough to betray the thought creeping in.

"Anyway… Speaking of Baby…" she began, adjusting one of the bags on her arm.

Jinu looked at her, attentive.
"Yeah?"

"Do you know if there's any particular reason he's been acting like that?"
Her voice was gentler now, like she wasn’t sure she was supposed to ask.

He hesitated.
Just a blink, but it was there.
Then, he gave a short exhale: "Well… Yeah. I know I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but… That whole so-called pandemic thing… It's his shame. And Gwi-Ma made a habit of tormenting him for it. Constantly and publicly."

Jinu looked down at his feet, voice tightening just a bit.
"The same way he used to do with me."

"Can I?"
"No. Get lost."

Zoey stood outside Baby's door, determined to figure out what was going on. A part of her was just glad he was home, maybe now she'd have a real chance to bring him with her to the Honmoon portal. But more than that, his reaction had caught her so off guard that she couldn't just let it go as if nothing had happened.
She needed to understand what was going on.

Of course, given his character -constantly striving to look unshakable and fiercely reluctant to expose any weakness-, a flat get lost was about all she could expect from him. But that didn't back down Zoey. Planting her feet in front of the guest room door -now his-, she set her hands on her hips and threw out an idea that just might work on him.

"Not even if we play a game or something?"

"What game…?"

The words came out muffled, barely audible from outside the room.

"Uhm… Mortal Kombat?" she tried, her tone laced with hopeful mischief.
But on the other side of the door came nothing.

Just a few seconds of silence and then, the faint click of a lock.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing a sight that stopped the girl cold, something she hadn't even imagined: Baby stood there, utterly transformed.
His usually neat hair was a tangled mess, sticking out in wild tufts as if he hadn't cared to brush it in days. His eyes were swollen and deeply sunken, rimmed with red from crying so much that the color seemed to have drained from his face, leaving him pale and fragile, almost ghostlike. The confident, mischievous grin Zoey was used to was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was only a raw, hollow vulnerability that made her chest tighten painfully. It was like seeing a stranger standing where someone familiar should be, and that odd, unsettling contrast hit her harder than she expected. A quiet ache bloomed inside her, a mix of sorrow and helplessness that words couldn't capture. And her plan to persuade him to come to the portal evaporated in an instant, replaced by a deep concern she hadn't anticipated.

So, without hesitation, she stepped over the threshold and lowered herself gently onto the edge of his bed, as if silently offering the only support she knew how to give.

"Hey… Will you tell me what's going on?"

Baby slid down beside her, his movements slow and heavy, as if each action cost him effort. He sat quietly; and the silence between them was so dense it felt like hours had passed. His eyes stayed cast downward, shoulders hunched, and his fingers twisted nervously in his lap, a quiet storm of fear and confusion in those trembling hands.

Finally, his voice came out strained, barely audible, as though speaking the words aloud might shatter something fragile inside him.

"I… I… I k-killed my parents…"

The room seemed to freeze in that instant.
Zoey blinked rapidly, stunned, a cold wave of disbelief and fear washing over her.

"Sorry, what?"

Baby hurried to clarify.
"That's what Gwi-Ma always told me… Five years straight, drilling it into me… If my p-parents are d-dead… It's… It's only and entirely m-my fault…"

His voice was still hollow, never losing the fragile and distant tone that now colored every word. And Zoey found herself speechless.
Her mind was a whirlwind of questions and helplessness. There was no way to soften the blow, no easy path to wrap around such heavy truth. All she could do was wait, silently, hoping he would find the strength to open up, to explain more when he was ready.

"Well… You know the whole Covid thing. Doesn't really need an introduction…"

"Yeah. Totally! I even got sick with it myself!" she chuckled softly, trying to lighten the heavy silence. "And it was really weird! Every lunch and dinner the girls would leave a tray outside my door. And I swear, I'd never seen Bobby so freaked out! You should've seen his face when I showed him my test result! God, I can still remember the pain when they shoved that stick up my nose…"

Baby's voice cut through the moment, shaky and pleading: "Could you… Not go there? Please?"

Zoey blinked, surprised.
"Huh?"

"Just… Please."

"Okay… Okay, I won't."

Another heavy silence fell.
Baby took a long, shuddering breath, trying to hold himself together, trying to find the strength not to break apart into pieces at the memory of the cruelest twist life had thrown at him five years ago.

"I was just a dumb, fragile kid. And the news… Well, it scared the hell out of me, mostly for my mental health. You know, being stuck inside for so long without seeing a single friend, frying my brain with hours and hours of videogames…"

His voice faltered, then grew softer, as if every word cost him more air than the last. Meanwhile, his fingers tightened imperceptibly around the edge of the bed, like someone clinging to a ledge just to keep from slipping into memory's dark water.

"A few days into lockdown, I heard Gwi-Ma's voice for the first time. He promised he'd make it into something beautiful. And I… I believed him. I would've clung to anything, just to keep from going insane in the loneliness of my room. So, one day, I was taking out the trash. And my neighbor, this guy about my age, was out there too. It felt like a total coincidence, but I knew Gwi-Ma had an hand in it. Anyway, we started talking. And from that day on, we became friends. We'd meet on the landing, talk for hours every afternoon, and the days just passed by. It all seemed perfect… But, you know, that bastard doesn't give out free favors."

Baby paused, eyes darting somewhere past the present, as if the memory itself were too bright to stare at directly. Then, he went on.

"One day… That guy got sick without realizing it. He was asymptomatic, and so was I: I caught the virus from him, and I brought it home."

His voice broke. His breath hitched.
It was like a torn page refusing to turn, and for a heartbeat the room seemed to contract around his silence.

"Both my parents had one of those famous preexisting conditions… And just like that… A few weeks and they were both gone."

Baby stopped, hands trembling.
The weight of what he had just said pressed down on the air, making even the smallest movement feel sacrilegious.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye properly. They just… Tore them away from me… And took them to the hospital… And…"

And then, his words dissolved into desperate sobs, a raw ache stinging in his chest where language had run out.
And for a moment, all he could do was breathe like someone drowning on dry land.

"God… If only I hadn't been so selfish…"

Zoey hesitated, unsure how to respond to the crushing weight of his confession.
"I don't really know what to say… But… Maybe selfish isn't the right word, at least not entirely…"

She stayed silent for a moment, letting the weight of his words hang in the air before finally breaking the stillness with a quiet resolve.

"We need to find Mystery."

Her voice was steady but soft, and it carried the urgency beneath calm.
"At least so you can have the friend you deserve. Without tricks and without lies."

Baby's eyes lifted slightly, still brimming with tears, but meeting hers with a fragile flicker of hope.

"…Thank you."
"For what?"
"For trusting me."

"Well, I trust the Honmoon." she smiled faintly, the corners of her lips lifting in a small, warm curve. "And it told me I can trust you."

In a place untouched by time, veiled in silence and sealed away from the chaos of the city, the folds of the Honmoon twisted with a slow, almost imperceptible grace, revealing the mouth of a hidden passage. It was a secret realm, passed down in hushed tones from one generation of huntresses to the next; and of its nature, little was known: only that it existed. No one had ever dared step beyond its edge, to descend into the unknown, to uncover what lay beneath that threshold poised between two worlds, hanging between the human and the demonic.

Zoey was the first to cross it.
Not in dreams, not in trance, but with her whole body, her whole being.
And perhaps it was its descent into a near-perfect stillness, that made what she found within all the more disappointing: absence.

A vast, breathless void stretched out before her, limitless and mute. A landscape without meaning, as if the very notion of place had been hollowed out. It was not darkness she saw, but something worse: a light blue horizon that had forgotten how to exist.

It was only by standing beside the right person that the emptiness began to stir, subtle and almost imperceptible like a curtain silently drawn aside. And far in the distance, they saw him: a solitary figure, seated cross-legged in the heart of the void.
Still as stone, lost somewhere deep within his thoughts, and clad in the familiar dark clothes he'd worn six months before, on the day everything happened.

It was him.
It was Mystery.

The moment Zoey saw him, something shifted inside her. A quiet gasp caught in her throat, and her heart surged, sudden and wild, as if trying to leap across the distance that separated them.
She could never have forgotten those strands of hair falling across his eyes.
Not even after all that time.
Not after everything.
For months, his image silently had lived at the edges of her thought, unreachable like a dream she couldn't completely remember.
But now… There he was. Real. Whole. Sitting alone in the vastness, exactly as she remembered him.

A tremor passed through her, and for a second, she couldn't move.
Then, without a word, she and Baby began walking toward him.

He was the first to step forward, his usual sly grin slid effortlessly back into place as he strolled up and gave the figure a casual wave.

"'Sup, bro."

Mystery lifted his head, and though his eyes remained concealed, the suggestion of a smile seemed to surface nonetheless.

"Hello, Baby. You're back sooner than I expected."
"You bet. And guess what? I've got some pretty dope news." Baby replied, stepping aside to let Zoey come into view.

She stepped forward like a spark bursting into the dark, eyes bright and smile wide with anticipation.

"Well hello, my handsome prince!" she beamed, her voice dancing with excitement. "Ready to begin your journey into a brand-new life?"

For a moment, hope flickered between them.
Then, suddenly, Mystery's body stiffened.

In an instant, the warmth she offered shattered against a wall of instinct.
He recoiled like a wounded dog, teeth bared and a low, threatening growl rumbling from deep in his chest.

The sound hit Zoey like a slap.
She froze. Her breath caught. The smile died on her lips, vanishing as if it had never been there.

She hadn't expected a hug.
Maybe not even a kind word.
But this?
This wasn't hesitation.
It was rejection. Mistrust.
As though the very sight of her triggered something dark and primal in him.

The distance between them suddenly felt vast. The air itself seemed to crack, brittle with tension, like the void was no longer just empty, but hostile. Like it had turned against her, echoing his unspoken accusation.

And her voice trembled as it escaped her lips.

"…Why?"

"You're the one who nearly killed me," Mystery snapped, almost barking at her, "whispering crap like you're just my type. How am I supposed to know you're not going to hurt me again?"

Chapter Text

Lost in the crowd and the murmur of the city, and fiercely determined to rebuild the wardrobe of what (by now, perhaps) could be considered her boyfriend, Rumi had thrown herself into a wild shopping spree.
And in the meantime, in pursuit of her questionable crush, Zoey was ready to dive into the rarefied energy of the Honmoon.

That was, Mira thought, the perfect premise for an afternoon devoted entirely to herself.

To herself, and no one else.

Nothing stood in her way, and nothing could stop her from retreating into the safe, familiar walls of her room and staying hidden until dinnertime.
From resting in her sacred space, untouched and hers alone; where problems remained beyond the door, and stress faded the moment her LED lights bathed every corner in a soft golden glow: pastel prints on the walls, scented candles in every size, delicate porcelain ornaments keeping watch over long rows of literary classics.

Maybe, she thought, she could take one of them into the bath; lost in foam, clouds of steam, and lavender salts. Or maybe she could stay in bed, beneath her white faux-fur blanket, her back nestled into soft pillows, while the sweet essence of sandalwood and grey amber -her favorite candle- softly stirred her senses and the air around her.

Countless possibilities opened up, each one more indulgent than the last.
But the bed, with its soft embrace and familiar warmth, was really calling to her.

So, in the quiet hush of her sanctuary -perched high above the city, where the skyline was already melting into the early dusk-, she reached for the book.
Then, curled beneath the cozy weight of her blanket, she slid on her glasses and let the light rustle of pages carry her gently into the slow unraveling of the day.

Everything had settled into a rare, perfect calm.
But, unfortunately, it didn't last.
Not even thirty minutes later, it was gone.

"Are you in there?"

Mira groaned under her breath, eyes rolling straight to the ceiling: of course it was Romance. Who else would show up exactly when she was starting to relax?

"Oh my God, what now?"
"Can we talk for a second?"
"Is that really necessary?"

"Please…"

Mira breathed out slowly through her nose, snapped the book shut with more force than necessary, and slid off the bed. Romance was waiting just beyond the door, and though she hadn't seen his face yet, she could sense the raw vulnerability lingering behind his eyes.

However, pity wasn't exactly in the cards, not after the demon had barged in and cracked the fragile calm she'd only just begun to rebuild.

Still, something stopped her from shutting him out completely. And with a sharp movement, she cracked the door open.

"Alright, go ahead, if you really have to. But make it quick."
"I know this isn't the best way to ask, but... Can you take me to the portal?"

"No."

The answer came out sharp and cold like a gunshot.
She didn't even wait for his reaction: the door swung shut before him, its firm slam echoing down the hallway.

But before she could even take a full step back, he called out.
"Mira, come on! At least tell me why!"

She clenched her jaw, turned right back around, and yanked the door open again, this time more forcefully: "You still don't get it, do you? I want nothing to do with this! Ask Zoey. Get her to help you."

"I saw she has... Other plans. And her weapon can't hold more than one soul."

"Then, I've got nothing for you. I'm not taking any risks." Mira sighed. "Look, congrats, two whole weeks without screwing up or stealing anyone's soul. Good job. But it's not enough."

"You're forgetting the six months before that."

The girl folded her arms tightly, eyes narrowing just a bit: "I wasn't there for those. So why the hell should I just trust your word?"

"Jesus, Mira! You didn't just-" he blurted out, his voice cracking as it rose before he could stop it, and a sudden flicker of gold sparking in his eyes. For a moment, his frustration boiled over, and he realized he'd started yelling.

However, it was something he never wanted to do, especially not with her. So, he forced himself to take a slow, steadying breath. He swallowed the anger, smoothing his features until not even the faintest demon trace showed, then softened his tone as he spoke again.

"Can I… Ask you one more thing?"

"Fine. One more." Mira gave him a slight, bothered nod, arms still folded tightly across her chest. "Go on."

"What would you do... If the only way to see the person you love again… Depended on someone who refuses to help you?"

For a brief second, her expression flickered. An almost imperceptible crack in her usually guarded demeanor.

Love had always been a complicate subject for her; and with him standing there, she couldn't afford to show even the smallest sign of weakness. That would only give him leverage, and she'd already made that mistake the other night. Not a severe one, of course, but still a mistake.

"...Are you trying to guilt-trip me?"

"Guilt-trip you?" he echoed, shock breaking through his calm as his voice shot up again. For a fleeting moment, his fangs slipped free; just a quick flash before he caught himself.
Anger wouldn't get him anywhere. He had told himself over and over again.

So, he exhaled slowly, grounding himself, and softened his tone as he spoke again.

"No. I'm not trying to guilt-trip you. I'm telling you the truth."

"And there's really no other way?" she asked, her eyes guarded.

"Doesn't look like it." Romance said back, running a hand briefly through his hair and keeping frustration hidden beneath his calm exterior. "And believe me, if I could have done this on my own, I would have. I wouldn't be standing here begging you."

He paused for a moment, the weight of his next words pressing down on him as he searched for the right way to say it.
Then, slowly, he lifted his eyes to meet her unflinching gaze; his voice dropping to a quiet tone as he confessed.

"I'd rather you liked me. But… The heart does what it wants. And if this is your choice, I'll respect it. Really. No drama."

His eyes held hers without faltering, steady and sincere.
Yet, beneath that calm exterior, there was an unspoken plea, a silent hope that she might understand the depth of what he was asking.

"But if there's even a chance… At least let me be with the person who actually loves me back. Just that."

Mira remained completely silent. And as soon as her mind processed those final words, even her eyes lost their certainty.

What really was the right thing to do?

"Listen..." she murmured, taking a step back and letting her arms fall to her sides. "Could you... Give me some time to think, please?"

"I'll give you all the time you need." Romance replied, his lips curving into the faintest smile.

All she could manage was a soft thank you, before the door closed again with a quick but silent click.

She sat back down on the edge of the bed, staring past the window as the last light faded over the city skyline, and began to reflect on what had just happened.

Love had been mentioned.
That damn feeling.
That emotion she had always, always loved; even if no one would have guessed it from the outside.
And even though it was never returned.

After all, she was only five the day she learned that love came with conditions.
She was just a little girl.

When it came, it was always wrapped in the form of an expensive toy. And to earn it, she had to be a good girl. Quiet and compliant.
No running. No crying. No loud playing.
No saying I don't like this.

If Mom and Dad liked it, then you liked it too.
You will wear the pretty dress.
You will go to piano lessons.
You will learn how to play chess.
Otherwise, love won't come.

You'd rather wear jeans?
You want to sign up for competitive dance instead of ballet?
Then, don't be surprised when love isn't there.

Don't be surprised when love isn't there when you're too blunt with your friends.
When you speak your mind honestly.
When you prefer to criticize to someone's face and praise them behind their back.

Love only comes with falsehoods, with masks, with two-faced games disguised as diplomacy.

"But it's because you lack tact."
"But it's because you offend people."
"But it's because you say things out loud, even when you shouldn't."

Without lies, love doesn't come.
Not even in relationships.
Especially in relationships. The worst of all.

Mira had been in many relationships.
With boys. With girls. The crème de la crème of the worst kind, from both sides.
Preachers of empty values.
Masters of control and manipulation, hidden behind the mask of respect.

But respect doesn't sacrifice freedom.
Respect doesn't sacrifice identity.
Respect doesn't sacrifice well-being.

She knew this. And she defended herself with everything she had.

Even if it meant fighting, shouting, hurling insults.
Even if it meant the bitter end of it all.
Even if it meant watching other people's happiness from afar.

And when the girls came into her life, two wonderful bolts from the blue, the pain didn't go away.
After all, a heart full of bruises still hurts, even when it's being held.

Speaking of the girls, hearing Rumi come back in -arms full of shopping bags and her strong, contagious laughter echoing down the hallway- had that exact effect.

It was a happiness she could only look at.
But she wanted to look at it.
After six months of uncontrollable tears, she deserved that. She truly did.

Everyone deserves joy in their heart.

And even if she couldn't be sure whether Romance's words were genuine, who was she to deny someone the peace they needed?
Why should she become the cause of someone else's emptiness, just because of her own?

Just because he was a demon?
A demon damned by love?

Mira shook her head, stood up abruptly from the bed, and walked toward Rumi's room; where the sunlight of recent days had been shining so brightly it dried the lake of tears that had drowned her for months.
So intensely it blinded her, the moment her purple-haired friend opened the door.

"Am I interrupting something important?"
"No! Not at all. We were just sorting clothes. You know, we're sharing the walk-in closet now and..."
"Good. Great." Mira cut in, walking in casually and sitting down on the bed.

"…Can we talk?"

"Of course, sweetheart!" Rumi smiled friendly.
"Jinu, could you give us a second, please?"

What followed was a long conversation.
Intricate, raw, and painfully honest.
A clash between two worlds that couldn't find common ground; pulled apart by doubt, fear, and a storm of tangled emotions.

And despite their opposing views, judgment never surfaced: from Rumi came only deep understanding and steady support. She listened quietly, nodded gently, took in every word as if it was sacred. She didn't speak not because she had nothing to say, but because she knew her friend needed to release it all, every bit of torment.
Only when Mira finally fell silent, she reached out, softly holding her hands as she spoke with rare and honest clarity.

"You do remember, don't you, that a demon has no powers inside the Honmoon?"

Mira didn't answer.
She was too baffled to say something, as if she had just plummeted from an imaginary tree, utterly blindsided.

That small but crucial detail had completely slipped her mind.

"Look, I know you don't trust them." Rumi continued. "And I know you probably won't ever want to help Abby get out of there. That's totally fine. But if you're scared that you might be in danger… Well, let me just remind you, that's not possible. Inside the Honmoon, you're always safe. Whether you like it or not."

Mira sighed, her lips twitching into the ghost of a nervous laugh as she ran a hand across her forehead: "Shit…"

"Don't tell me you actually forgot that." Rumi teased, unable to hold back a quiet giggle of her own, at the sheer look of disbelief and embarrassment on Mira's face.

"It's just that-"

Without warning, Rumi took her hands again, gently but firmly, and locked eyes with her.

"Listen to me. If it will help you sleep better at night… Know that I can always watch your back. Always. And don't forget I can do this." she said, vanishing into a cloud of soft pink smoke and reappearing on the opposite side of the bed. "And I can come to you, whenever you need me. You know I can sense these things."

"…Thank you."

The next day

"You. Get off that couch. It's time to go."
Mira's voice broke through the quiet living room, sharp and insistent: she'd just walked in from her duties, coat still clinging to her shoulders, before she planted herself behind the couch like a shadow seeking refuge. There, slouched with a casual ease that spoke of comfort and boredom, Romance lounged among the other demons, his gaze half committed to Baby's struggles on his brand-new videogame. He wasn't really watching, more like enduring the scene as if stuck waiting for something better to happen. And in fact, the moment Mira spoke, his whole expression shifted.

It took him a beat to process her words, but when he did, his eyes suddenly gleamed: "Are you serious?"
"I'm serious. Get up. We're leaving now."

He didn't need to be told twice.
In a heartbeat, he was on his feet.
His footsteps pounded the floor like a distant thunder as he raced down the stairs, vanishing before Mira's eyes could follow.

"Oh, and put on something warm!" Mira called after him, her voice chasing him like a cold wind's warning. "Or you will catch your death, in case you didn't know how seasons work!"

"Sis, he's not that dumb. Seasons weren't invented yesterday, you know?" Baby came with a teasing retort, eyes fixed on the TV.

"Keep playing and mind your own damn business!"

"Oh, you bet I will…" he snickered.
"You bet, sis."

Mira rolled her eyes, saying nothing more, and stepped outside, heading straight for the city's most remote and forgotten area.

Once they arrived, she intended to wait by the threshold, silent and watchful like a soldier on patrol. But when she saw Romance frozen at the entrance, hesitant, she began to wonder what he was truly waiting for.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Why don't you go in?"
"Are you… Coming in with me?"
"And why would I?"
"I… I just… I'd really like it if you did."

Suspicion crept into Mira's voice, low and sharp. "You're hiding something…"

But then, a fleeting memory softened her thoughts: in that place, he couldn't hurt her.
She didn't know why her mind struggled to hold onto that truth.

It didn't take long to find Abby's soul.
At first, it was nothing but a pinprick of black against the endless distance, a speck adrift in that pale void. But as he drew closer, his darkness began to shift, reshaping itself into something human, something heartbreakingly familiar.
Lines emerged. Flesh returned. And the silhouette became a solid man.

The space grew dense around the three of them, thick with the kind of silence that hums with feeling. It was as it inhaled their anticipation, exhaling it back as trembling light. And every step the couple took toward each other sent ripples through the stillness, small shocks of joy too raw to contain.

From a distance, Mira watched.
Watched as both of them came alive again.
Their steps steadied, their hearts beat with something wild and bright and alive, and she could almost see it: the weight lifting from their shoulders, the ache that time had stolen easing at last.
They were reclaiming every lost moment, one heartbeat at a time.

And deep in their bones, they felt it.
This time, it wasn't a fluke or a fading dream. The path between them was real.
No more faint miracles or lucky chances. They could find each other again.
And they would.

"You're back, my love."
"And I'll always find my way back to you."

The words met halfway between them, gently colliding like light and gravity. And the embrace that followed wasn't desperate. It was steady. Certain. Not a frantic reunion, but something deeper: a promise sealed in silence. A vow whispered across lifetimes, that nothing had truly been lost. That love had won, even through the illusion of death.

And now, for the first time in so long, they were free. Free from the torment, from the suffering of what they had endured before.
Free to be together without the pain, and without the shadows that once came with it.
Free to exist only in the present moment, where they could finally live without fear of it slipping away.

And Mira kept her distance, as she always did.
She watched their smiles, their laughter, the way their noses bumped in a soft clumsiness, the way their fingers tangled in each other's hair, as if afraid to ever let go again.

That stirred something strange in her chest.

Yes, they were demons.
But they were happy.
So painfully, beautifully happy.

They loved each other with a kind of purity that was human; raw and gentle all at once. And watching them laugh like that, with nothing but light in their eyes, felt like being allowed to witness something sacred.

The void was still there, but in their reunion, it faded into the background.
All that remained was presence, touch, and the sound of shared breath.
Arms entwined, whispering secrets, trading soft laughter and quiet kisses.

Nothing else existed.
And it was beautiful.
A spectacle for the soul.

Mira knew she had no right to take that away from them.
And actually, deep down, she always wanted something like this for herself too.
But she stayed where she was.
Watching.
Remembering how beautiful love could be.
But not for her.

Just as she always had.

"Hey, why are you just standing in the corner all by yourself?"

A voice broke through her reverie, pulling her back. Abby approached slowly, his expression soft but searching.

Mira straightened, her defensive mask sliding effortlessly back into place: "This is an endless void. Corners don't exactly exist here."

"Oh, come on. You know what I meant." Abby stepped closer, his boyfriend following, the warmth of both their presences wrapping faintly around her like a tide.

"I swear we won't bite."
"You know we'd love to have you with us."

Mira rubbed her arm, half defensive, half uncertain: "Look…"

But the rest caught in her throat.
A shiver crept up her spine before she even understood why: Abby had moved just a little too close.
Instinct took over before reason could, and she flinched back, bracing for a threat that never came.

In fact, there was no danger.
Only the thundering echo of her own heartbeat.

"Hey. It's okay." he said gently. "Hurting you is off the table. And you know I can't do it. Especially not here."

It should have been simple. Obvious.
Yet, her mind refused to let it settle.
Inside the Honmoon, no one could harm her.

So why couldn't she remember that?
Was her mind trying to justify her? Searching for a reason not to trust, not to unravel the version of herself she had learned to be?

She didn't know.
And the more she tried to grasp it, the further away the answer drifted.

"Anyway… I just wanted to say two things." Abby started softly. "First. I don't blame you for what you did. Not even a little. You did what you had to do, what they always taught you. And that's okay. We're not angry. In fact…" His lips twitched with the faintest smile. "…Lately, my daydreams have been getting so vivid that, sometimes, I even imagine you being in love with me as well."

Mira blinked. "I… What?"
The confusion struck fast and sharp.
Maybe she'd misheard.
But at this point, who could blame her?

"Well," he said, tone light but honest, "in the demon realm you're pretty famous. For… Well, obvious reasons. And we might have had a crush on you long before you even knew we existed."

Her mouth twisted into a grimace halfway between disbelief and irritation.

"Yeah, okay. Didn't need to know that." she said quickly, slicing the moment short before it could turn into something real.

Better not to think about it.
Better to stay unshaken.
Especially with them. With demons.

And Abby didn't push.
Instead, his voice softened again.

"Second thing. Thank you."

"Huh?"

"Thank you for… Not keeping us apart." he said.
His smile was so genuine it disarmed her: there was no trick in it, no hidden angles. There was just truth.
"You know, it's been six really hard months for Rom. He thought I was gone for good, and he was starting to believe he didn't deserve love at all. Gwi-Ma had already torn him apart over it. And you… You unknowingly saved him from something worse. I'm really grateful for this. Watching him suffer breaks me."

Mira's breath hitched.
She hadn't expected that.
His words landed softly, but they shook something deep within her.

Something warm and dangerously fragile.

"I… You're welcome, I guess." she murmured, her voice quieter.

Abby smiled again, even gentler this time. "So… If you want to join us…"

She hesitated, then shook her head with a faint, wistful curve of her lips.

"No. Sorry. Enjoy your time together. Maybe… Maybe next time."

"There will be a next time?" Romance asked, hope flickering beneath his calm.

It took her a moment to answer.
She looked past the two of them, into the endless, soundless void, and felt something ease in her chest.

"…Yeah." she said finally.
"There will be a next time."