Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Her first attempt was at thirteen.

Then at fifteen.

Then again, sometime around her eighteenth birthday, each one a secret. But tonight, secrecy wasn't an option. She couldn't do it alone anymore. There was nothing left to live for, nothing left to pretend for since everyone knew now. Her hope was shattered and her trust broken in the span of fifty minutes or so. She drifted through the night in a haze, dissociating all the way to the tree where Celine waited.

Dying by her own hands felt, to her, like an act of selfish cowardice, like some sort of proof of the person she feared she truly was. The soil beneath her feet was the only solace left, soon to take her in completely. If she was a monster, then she deserved to die like one. In her mind, nothing made sense anymore.

And still...

"I wanted to set you free."

"You did. You gave me my soul back."

Rumi felt the tears sting as Gwi-Ma's flames tore through Jinu, burning deeper with every second. She didn't want it. She didn't want his soul. She didn't want any of this. But she took it anyway.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈·✦

It took about... fifteen seconds after the girls landed back on stage for the reality of what had just happened to sink in for them and the fans.

Then, flashes erupted instantly, microphones shoved at them before they could even catch a full breath. The adrenaline drained fast, leaving only pain. Rumi's body screamed in protest, with bones aching and muscles throbbing in places she hadn't even known could hurt.

Her arms stayed locked with her girls', the three of them holding each other up. Mira pressed hard against the gash on her upper left arm, blood soaking through her sleeve, yet her grip on Rumi never faltered as if she feared she might slip away again. Zoey clutched her side, smile trembling but still fixed in place, trying to look harmless under the thousands of flashing lights even while her body betrayed her.

They were in far worse shape than Rumi was since her demon side had shielded her more than it should have. Watching her girls like this, wounded and exposed while cameras clicked mercilessly around them, left a bitter taste in her mouth. The shame tangled with shock until her stomach churned, and she wanted nothing more than to throw up and sob all at once.

Between the relentless flashes, the blur of shouted questions, and the rising cries of frightened fans, Rumi caught sight of Bobby already moving into action. He barked orders to the nearest guards, ushering them to form a wall, forcing back the cameras and interviewers while trying to shield the girls from every angle.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rumi spotted Celine cutting through the chaos, bad words spilling at the guards, then the fans. Bobby's expression said he had no idea what was happening, but Rumi knew Celine would fill him in later, making sure he stayed in line and making sure his focus never wavered from his girls.

"Come on, girls. Explanations can wait, you need to be patched up first." Celine's voice cut through the noise as she ushered them away from the chaos.

"Miss Ryu, are you hurt?!"

"Is HUNTR/X involved with demons?"

"Ryu Rumi, what are those markings on your body?!"

"Are you responsible for the missing people?"

Security pulled at their arms, Bobby urging them forward, Celine cutting through the noise with sharp commands. The girls stumbled along, lights flashing in their faces, microphones thrust so close Rumi could feel the static of them brushing her skin.

No more hiding. No more lies.

Her chest tightened. She stopped walking.

"Rumi—" Bobby's voice cracked with panic as he turned, motioning her to keep moving. Celine's sharp gesture sliced the air: don't you dare.

But Rumi lifted her head, eyes locking onto the wall of cameras and frantic fans. On impulse, her hand shot out and grabbed one of the microphones shoved too close. Gasps rippled through the crowd with reporters leaning forward.

"What you saw tonight… was real."

The noise around them faltered.

"The Saja Boys were demons. We fought them. We're not just idols—we're hunters." She hesitated, breath catching, then forced it out. "And… I'm part demon too. But I've never lied about protecting people. I never will."

Questions, shouts, pleas and accusations erupted all at once but she didn't let herself hear them. The moment hung for a heartbeat longer while her body trembled, before Celine's hand gripped her shoulder hard and pulled her back into motion.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Her thumb flicked down the screen with headlines blurring past.

"From Stage Lights to Special Treatment: Is Rumi Just an Entitled Nepo Baby Hiding Behind Her Demon Marks?"

"Idol or Impostor? Fans Question Rumi's True Nature After Idol Awards Scandal"

"Half Demon, Half Idol — Can Rumi Ever Be Trusted Again?"

"The Demon Next Door: Should HUNTR/X Still Be Allowed on Stage?"

"Rumi Branded 'Privileged and Detached' After Idol Awards."

"Is the Industry Covering for Her? Agencies Under Fire After Rumi Reveal"

She locked her screen with a snap, the headlines shrinking to her reflection in the black glass. Covering for her? If only.

Rumi shoved the phone away, letting it fall onto the couch cushions as the air left her lungs in a heavy rush. Her face felt hot, her patterns prickling faintly under the fabric of her sleeve. She dragged both hands over her face, smudging at tired eyes, and sat there for a moment with the weight of it pressing down on her chest.

Three months, one week, and three days.

That's how long it's been since the Idol Awards. Since their last real concert. Since her secret came out.

Three months, and five days since HUNTR/X had to give a real explanation through an interview.

Two months, four weeks, and two days since her first bathhouse trip and also since her real breakdown, after she finally processed everything.

One month, three weeks, and two days since they started working on the new single.

Also enough time for two rom-coms, four K-dramas, and five full seasons of Love Island—all squeezed in between weekly bathhouse visits.

No, it wasn't an addiction. Rumi just got bored out of her mind whenever they weren't working on the comeback. Now she was already on season six of Love Island, wondering how she hadn't discovered the strange comfort of trashy American reality TV sooner.

A few weeks later, she was still drifting from her room to the couch, avoiding many interactions. She'd spent most of the day buried in sleep, while Mira fine-tuned choreography and Zoey kept busy promoting the new single online.

Three months, give or take. That was the deal. Enough time to rest and recover. And somehow, she still felt like she'd never left that stage. During that first month of their break, they got hit with a ton of questions. Zoey was the most active online, while Rumi barely said a word.

She still saw the footage sometimes when she scrolled too far. Her patterns had flared under the stage lights, glowing for all to see, and the crowd's gasps still echoed louder in her head than they ever did in the dozens of fan videos she kept replaying online. Everything that happened that night was broadcast across the world for everyone to see.

People were scared. Some more than others. Even with HUNTR/X promising to keep the world safe, fear was natural. Understandable, even. The Saja Boys once adored had turned out to be soul-eating demons, luring fans with their fake charm. That kind of betrayal didn't fade overnight, and rightfully so.

Rumi disappeared from her main social media accounts not long after. Not because she was ashamed of what she was, but because she was exhausted. The news headlines, the media pressure, the constant flood of questions. It all wore her down.

Her patterns only stirred more attention. Some fans who weren't present at the Idol Awards thought it was all stage makeup. Others assumed it was permanent body art she'd kept hidden until now. Still, not everyone understood what it meant. Not entirely.

Rumi's silence didn't help. Her lack of posts and live updates left fans anxious, confused and suspicious. But Zoey and Mira were quick to defend her. They told the public Rumi was taking time to rest, to recover from everything. That they'd handle the spotlight for now.

And honestly? The media was the least of Rumi's worries.

One thing led to another, and their new single finally dropped just a few days ago. As usual, that meant getting ready for a small fansign for tomorrow. The comeback had everyone buzzing with excitement.

Everyone except Rumi.

She was tired. Unimaginably so.

Sure, things with the girls had been patched up after the Idol Awards. They'd promised no more secrets, swore they'd be honest from now on. Everything seemed back to normal… or at least that's what they all wanted to believe. But Rumi wasn't celebrating with them. Not really.

At first, Zoey and Mira figured it was just because everything was still fresh. Rumi probably needed time to process the changes, to work through everything she was feeling. She deserved that time. They also thought they deserved the silence that came with the idea of her two best friends raising their weapons at the girl who only searched solace and acceptance. They could live with that, after all, a song composed mid‐battle doesn't mean immediate forgiveness.

But nothing shifted. Not in the first week, not even in the months that followed. And it showed. In the way she moved, or the way she smiled less, spoke less. It didn't take long for them to understand why.

Rumi was grieving. Hard.

But life didn't pause for her grief. She had money, she had fame, she was alive and that was supposed to be enough. So what right did she have to feel broken?

"Rumiiiiii." Zoey's voice rang out as she and Mira stepped into the living room.

Rumi stirred, her patterns flickering faintly in response. She hadn't heard them come in. She didn't even bother to sit up straighter. Slouched wasn't the right word for it, she was practically melted into the couch at this point.

"Look who's alive." Mira teased, tipping her chin toward her.

Rumi blinked, groggy. She could remember the moment she'd dozed off, but judging by the light outside, she must have been out for hours.

"For a second, we thought we'd have to check your pulse." Zoey said brightly. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah. Might be a little sore, though." Rumi muttered.

"No wonder. Want proof?" Zoey snickered, already nudging Mira as she pulled out her phone.

"This one's going straight into the 'Best of Rumi' folder." Mira declared.

Rumi groaned, dragging the blanket over her face. "Ughhh, not again! You guys seriously have a problem." She knew they'd been collecting pictures of her in odd sleeping positions for months now, and she hated how little she could fight it. The moment she was exhausted, she was out cold with zero defenses.

Still, when she peeked from under the blanket, she noticed both of them were dressed with casual effort that screamed "going out." Mira wore a laced black top under a loose jacket, baggy jeans tucked into her sneakers, a cap tilted low over her glasses.

Beside her, Zoey had her bright yellow hoodie thrown over denim shorts, her legs bare except for scrunched socks and high-tops, with the kind of sunny look that matched her grin.

They looked gorgeous. Together, maybe even too gorgeous. And Rumi couldn't help thinking If they really want to hang out, I can just leave them alone. I'm third-wheeling at this point.

"Ugh, are you seriously still watching this crap?" Mira asked, gesturing at the TV where Love Island played on at low volume. It was clear Rumi must've fallen asleep mid-episode. Mira shot Zoey a look. "I blame you for this."

"Me?! I've never watched this in my life!" Zoey yelped

"How are you not bored of all this drama?"

"I dunno…" Rumi muttered, voice still sort of heavy with sleep. "It's kind of… comforting. The drama's predictable. People are worse than me for once."

Mira snorted. "Please, don't make this some deep, philosophical thing about Love Island."

"I mean, she's got a point. Better them than us." Zoey smirked and leaned against the back of the couch "C'mon, Rum, admit it! You've got a favorite couple, don't you?"

Rumi groaned, pulling the blanket higher over her face. "Not telling."

"Oh my god, you do." Zoey's grin widened. "She totally does!"

Mira crossed her arms, amused. "Well, now we have to know. We're not leaving you alone until you spill."

Rumi peeked out from under the blanket, half-smiling despite herself. "You two are exhausting."

"Good." Mira said. "Is this why you slept half the day away?"

"I bet so, but she definitely needed the energy for tonight." Zoey added.

Rumi blinked, distracted. "…Tonight?"

The mood shifted.

"Uh…" Zoey rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, we're both ready to leave. Do you need a little more time to get dressed?" Her gaze flicked down at Rumi's rumpled pajamas then darted away politely.

"Oh… um." Rumi twisted her blanket between her fingers. "I'm not feeling great, so I might just stay home now. You guys can go ahead."

"Rumi…" Mira stepped closer, arms folding across her chest. Her tone was patient despite the gesture. "Did you forget about our hangout tonight?"

Rumi blinked at them with sluggish thoughts, like she'd missed half the conversation. "...Hangout?"

Zoey's expression shifted immediately, realization dawning across her face. "Yeah. You know. Our thing."

Rumi's lips parted, then pressed shut again. Right. Their thing. The night strolls. The three of them had been doing it since their first real concert. Going out the night before an important event. Walking under streetlights, grabbing snacks from corner stands, letting the cool air cut through the stress until they could breathe again. It was supposed to be their tradition, a small ritual before facing crowds and cameras.

But she hadn't caught that earlier.

"Oh. Right." she said eventually.

"You weren't listening when we told you today, were you?" Mira shifted, arms still crossed.

Rumi dropped her eyes to her pajama pants, picking at the hem. "Guess not." she muttered.

Zoey tilted her head with that easy grin again, trying to smooth things over. "Our mistake for not waking you up sooner, but, well, you know now. Plus the weather is perfect tonight."

They were right, fresh air might do Rumi some good. But the thought of getting ready now felt exhausting, and she couldn't bring herself to make them wait... again. Her bones felt heavy, weighed down by something more than fatigue. A simple night stroll shouldn't feel like too much, but it did.

She wasn't trying to pull away from them, not exactly. Not since Zoey and Mira started paying more attention to her. But even now, even after everything they'd been through together, she still couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't quite belong.

Her friends had come out of the ordeal stronger and closer. They were even dating now. Rumi had found out during her first trip to the bathhouse, when Zoey and Mira thought they were being subtle enough to sneak a kiss near the changing lockers. (They weren't). Though later, they admitted they were planning to tell her eventually.

Rumi obviously didn't mind, she'll forever love them endlessly. But while they seemed to be moving forward and building something together, she just wanted to sink into the stillness of this penthouse and never leave. That's ironic, because just a few months ago, she'd do anything besides resting.

Okay and maybe it was also because late-night walks had started to remind her of all the times she used to sneak out to meet Jinu. And in this case, the thought would only hurt more, especially tonight.

Zoey hesitated for a second, then lowered herself onto the couch beside Rumi. She placed a gentle hand on Rumi's shoulder, and faint blue patterns glowed beneath her pajama top.

"Are you really not feeling okay?" she asked, with a voice stripped of all its usual cheer.

"I'm peachy! Just… not energized enough, I guess." Rumi's throat felt tight, but she gave a small nod. "I'm also thinking about tomorrow."

Mira shifted her weight and pulled off her cap, running a hand through her hair. "If it makes a difference, I'm kind of stressed too. It's our first fansign since the hiatus. I keep overthinking everything."

And Rumi was pretty sure that by everything, Mira meant the flood of questions and the sudden, suffocating attention that always came with a comeback this big.

Zoey gave a small laugh, nudging Rumi lightly with her shoulder. "Which is exactly why a walk might help."

"When's the last time we went out at night without chasing demons?" Mira added smoothly, glancing at Zoey as if passing the baton.

Zoey tilted her head, pretending to think. "No clue. It's all a blur." Then she looked back at Rumi. "But hey, the streets are quiet in the evening if you're worried about the fans. Maybe our favorite ramyeon place is still open?"

The offer was tempting, but Rumi's body refused to move. It wasn't the idea of being seen by fans that kept her from going out. She loved her fans, genuinely. That was never the issue.

"Or we could stay inside, finish that sixteen-season series we just started, load up on snacks, and pass out on the couch like we always do." Mira glanced between the two of them like she was waiting for a cue. "Whatever feels right tonight."

That almost made Rumi laugh. The persuasion felt oddly familiar, like all the times the girls had coaxed her into coming along to the bathhouse, or insisted she share the same changing room with them. "Did you guys rehearse this or something?"

Zoey grinned. "Maybe."

"They're good lines." Mira added with a shrug and a smile.

"We wouldn't wanna push you." Zoey finished.

Push her? Rumi hadn't done that once this entire break. They kept worrying about her, hovering like she might break down again, but had anyone asked what they wanted? They were trying so hard. It meant something, more than she could express. She wasn't taught how to express it either way.

"No seriously…" Rumi said, standing up slowly, blanket slipping off her shoulders. "I'd just slow you down and ruin the fun."

Zoey's smile faltered.

"I wouldn't want to make you stay home after getting all dressed up. Besides, you should use the night as a date. You two deserve one."

Mira and Zoey both blushed, because of course they did.

"But what about you?" Mira asked.

"We wouldn't mind staying inside for tonight," Zoey added, moving to untie her buns with a casual stretch. "I guess I'm a bit tired too, now that I think about it."

Rumi watched her for a moment. Zoey was trying to sell it, but she could tell she definitely wasn't tired.

"I think I'll just get ready for tomorrow and head to bed early, if that's okay?" Rumi asked, even though it didn't sound like she was really asking. It was gentle, but final.

There'd be plenty of night strolls in the future. Tonight just wasn't one of them.

Rumi had barely moved inches from the couch when she felt two familiar pairs of arms wrap around her from behind—one sliding around her waist, the other draping gently over her shoulders.

Zoey's grip was loose and warm with her face tucked against Rumi's back. Mira's arms, more controlled, anchored her from above. Rumi didn't have to look to know exactly who was who. The sudden closeness made her heart stutter.

"Sorry," Zoey mumbled, her voice muffled against the fabric of Rumi's tank top. "Just… one hug."

Mira leaned in slightly, resting her chin on Rumi's shoulder. "Don't disappear on us again, okay?"

The hold around her tightened just a little. She didnt know whether to lean into them or slip away before they noticed the tears welling in her eyes. She blinked up at the ceiling, willing them not to fall.

"Of course not." Rumi reassured, not entirely sure who she tried to convince. God, she really didn't deserve the patience.

"Also… don't forget we have to be up by six tomorrow." Mira spoke again, too close to Rumi's ear.

The soft breath of it sent a sudden chill down her spine, and she felt Zoey's touch tighten ever so slightly around her waist. Without meaning to, her patterns responded, glowing a little brighter beneath her skin, betraying her in the quiet.

Rumi stiffened.

Weird.

She wasn't exactly new to sudden hugs anymore. She was used to the way her girls could pull her in at random now, used to Zoey's warmth and Mira's steady presence.

But this felt different? She chalked it up to nerves, exhaustion, whatever. Probably nothing.

Clearly, she still had a lot to learn about closeness… and everything that came with it.

After that, Rumi slipped away into her room. Derpy wasn't curled on the bed waiting for her this time, but sleep was the last thing she could manage anyway. She felt strange even before closing the door. Dizzy, like her body was too light for her bones. One more step and she might have floated, though her chest felt heavier than ever.

The faint glint of blue on her vanity caught her eye. Jinu's bracelet. Or hers. Or theirs. She wasn't sure anymore. He was the last one who wore it, but it still felt like it belonged to them both. She crossed the room and picked it up carefully.

"For what it's worth, I don't think you're a mistake."

A small smile curved her lips. She glanced into the mirror, patterns glowing faintly at her neck. The memory was bittersweet. She had spent years despising demons, never imagining she'd grow close to one. Did Jinu feel the same about her? Did he despise her before he saw her patterns? She had despised him even after knowing what he was. And yet, he had helped her. Hurt her, yes. Betrayed her. But in the end, even after knowing him for two weeks, he had given her something no one else had: the faintest permission to love herself.

Her shame was a part of her. She could live with that.

But the reflection staring back was grotesque. Still and silent. For a heartbeat, she wasn't sure if she was seeing herself at all. The eyes staring back felt like they belonged to someone else entirely. A gaze that didnt look inward but outward, as if the mirror itself had become a window. His shadow lived in the curve of her mouth, in the way the light bent wrong across her features. Jinu.

Pain flared suddenly across her skin. Rumi doubled over, clutching herself, knees hitting the ground. Her ears rang. It took five breathless seconds to realize her marks were pulsing, each throb spreading like fire through her bones.

She'd felt her patterns ache before when she hated them and herself the most. But never like this. She thought that hurt was behind her, thought acceptance meant the pain was gone. Yet one glance at her own body proved otherwise. The marks had darkened again, shifting back into that deep purple that once crawled across her skin, long before they turned iridescent.

"You're a demon. Just like me."

Yes. She was a demon. She had accepted that, hadn't she? She wasn't afraid of herself anymore. So why? Why was she gasping for air now?

"You're a demon. Demons don't feel anything."

"Is that what you think? That's all demons do. Feel."

Naïve. She had been so naïve to believe otherwise. Because right now, she was feeling everything. Guilt. Grief. Shame. All the pieces she had buried under lazy mornings and numb distractions clawed their way back.

"All we get to do is live with our shame. Our misery."

Of course, Jinu was right.

She was grieving someone she couldn't save. Carrying the guilt of every soul she failed to protect because of the secret she kept. And how could she not? How could she not, when she was standing here, alive and well, pretending everything was fine, like it was all okay. It wasn't okay.

She hadn't known Jinu for long, but that didn't matter. She wanted to save him. No matter what went down between them, she wanted him free. Because she was free now and he wasn't. Neither were the others she'd failed to protect. She got to relax at the bathhouse, spend months stretched out on the couch doing nothing... and for what? That's unfair, she thought bitterly. So many people were now gone because she couldn't think past herself.

She had almost lost everything. She'd tried to bury it, to forget, but forgetting was impossible.

Painkillers. That was all she wanted now. The one thing she always reached for when the ache grew unbearable. But her bones felt splintered from the inside out, too heavy to let her crawl toward the drawers, and too stiff to even try.

So she stayed curled on the floor, clutching herself as though that might hold her together. Praying for anything to silence the agony tearing through her.

But the pain wasn't only in her body. It was in her head too, swelling with the voices of everyone she had failed. Faces she couldn't protect. People who had trusted her, only to be hurt because of her secret. Their echoes circled, louder than the ringing in her ears, impossible to shut out.

"Nothing can change until your patterns are gone."

Was Celine right? The Honmoon changed. Her patterns changed, they're not gone. Why couldn't she change?

Where was the beauty in the broken glass now? The shards pressed beneath her skin like a thousand needles. Why was it still so hard to face herself, just her own head and thoughts, when the room was silent and she was left alone with them?

Her phone was already in her hand by the time she noticed. The screen lit her face, Celine's name glowing back at her in between intense blinking and already spilled tears.

She hadn't called this number in months. Not since the interview. They hadn't spoken about that night before the battle either, when she'd begged her to end it, to treat her like the demon she was. She made Zoey and Mira call her in case of emergency, but she couldn't. Couldn't even face Celine.

Her thumb hovered over the button. Her chest ached. And then she pressed.

The line rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

No answer.

She could barely hold the phone steady, her knuckles white from the strain. Rumi was growing impatient, but also overly anxious. Was Celine still mad at her? Had her silence been too cruel, even toward the only person she could still call family?

The beep came sharp in her ear, and words spilled before she could stop them.

"...I—I'm sorry, Celine." It came out closer to a wounded animal's whine than speech. "Sorry for calling, but I can't— I don't know what to do. I thought I could handle it but—" Her breath hitched violently, lungs refusing to catch. "Why couldn't you—"

She ended the call, heart pounding.

Her thumb lingered before she pressed delete. The voicemail vanished, erased before anyone else could hear the mess she had spilled into it.

Her body still trembled, every pulse of her patterns echoing like fire in her bones. She dragged herself toward the vanity, fumbling open the drawer with shaking fingers until the bottle rolled into her palm. She didn't even check the dosage, just tipped a few into her mouth and swallowed them dry, wincing as they scraped her throat. The pain didn't stop, but it dulled, enough to move and crawl into bed.

She squeezed her eyes shut; even the faintest glow from her room and the city beyond stabbed at her skull. Sleep crept in at last like a mercy she didn't deserve.

Chapter Text

Rumi flinched when the ice pack pressed against her side. She'd never liked that sensation, or the way people crowded her whenever her injuries were too obvious to ignore. But what she dreaded most was when Celine got involved. Because with Celine, care always came laced with scolding, no matter how old they all were now.

On the far end of the couch, Zoey sat with her phone cradled in both hands, her voice low. Whatever she said came out hopeful almost, but the tight line in her smile gave her away. Rumi knew that look. Zoey's parents were divorced, but they both still reached out whenever things like this hit the news.

Beside her, Mira had her own phone pressed to her ear while Celine worked carefully on her arm, cleaning the gash with practiced hands. Her mother had called. Rumi didn't know all the details, but she knew Mira had walked away from that family the second she joined HUNTR/X. To them, Mira was the daughter who chose a difference lifestyle over a "real" path. The call sounded more like an interrogation than anything.

The sound of Zoey's soft "love you too" echoed faintly, overlapping with Mira's sharp "I said I'm fine."

Rumi… had no one to call. No voice waiting at the other end. No parent still trying, even in fractured ways. Unless she decided to mess with an Ouija board.

"Shouldn't we be getting them to a hospital?” Bobby's voice cut through the room with worry. He stood just behind the couch with fingers tapping against his phone like he was already dialing. "A van could be here in no time. Or—no, wait, a private helicopter, that'd be faster. We can even buy out a floor at a private hospital if needed. Anything for them. I can call someone right now—"

"Bobby. We're fine. Really." Zoey gave him a shaky smile.

"Yeah." Mira muttered, pulling her arm back slightly as Celine tightened the bandage. "Not the first time."

Rumi said nothing.

Celine let out a breath through her nose. "It wouldn't be safe to draw more attention right now. The last thing we need is reporters sniffing around hospital doors."

"And it wouldn't be safe to leave them here either." Bobby shook his head, he'd never sounded so serious.

Silence pressed in. Rumi just wanted to sink back and rest. She'd never seen a real doctor in her life and not because of something silly like a fear of needles or the smell of antiseptic. Simply because Celine had never taken her. Hospitals were for prescriptions and nothing more. Any real treatment had always come from her aunt's hands. For obvious reasons.

So the thought of going to one now felt pointless.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Rumi woke up at the sound of her alarm clock.

5:15AM.

The sun wasn't even out yet, but the sky outside her balcony was streaked with soft pink and lavender. She didn't move right away, just stayed curled beneath the covers, eyes fixed on the ceiling as the weight of morning slowly settled onto her chest.

She hadn't missed this kind of exhaustion. The bone-deep drain that always followed when her demon markings ached through the night. The painkillers dulled it eventually, dragging her under. And despite having slept away most of the day yesterday, she slipped into sleep almost too quickly.

Ten more minutes to lie in bed, letting her mind spiral through every possible disaster the day might bring. Twenty-five for a cold morning shower. Then other ten whole minutes to get herself ready before stepping out to face it all.

Her fingers were still closed around Jinu's bracelet that was tangled between her knuckles. She must've fallen asleep holding it again.

Three months, one week, and four days.

Her cheeks were still a little puffy from crying the night before.

Derpy now sat curled beside her like a large, striped space heater, lifted his head at her movement. He let out a soft purr, eyes blinking slowly as if checking on her.

"Morning." Rumi whispered. Her voice cracked a little.

As she shifted onto her back, her eyes landed on a small piece of paper, slightly crumbled but folded neatly on her nightstand that read "SAVE THE DATE". The last letter shared between them. Also the only one Rumi kept. She never reaches for it nowdays, just stares at it from her place in bed. She didn't know why she couldn't throw it out or why she still needed it there like some kind of fragile anchor.

She didn't even read the message anymore. She just… saw it. It was the last physical thing she had besides the bracelet.

Okay. Today was the day. Their official comeback.

Which meant she had to get her idol persona back in place, whether she was ready or not.

Rumi finally peeled the covers off, placing the bracelet gently on the nightstand beside the folded letter.

She moved through the motions on autopilot with a practiced rhythm like always. A quick shower, hot enough to pull her body out of sleep. A towel draped over her shoulders, long hair still damp as she sorted through the closet for soft clothes to lounge in… and a second outfit to bring along for later, something clean for when the crew would start prepping them for the fansign.

It was all familiar. Well, mostly.

The only real change came when she crouched beside the corner of her room, where two bowls sat neatly beneath the window. Now, there were mouths to feed. She poured food into Derpy's bowl first. He was already waiting with his ears perked. Then Sussie's. The bird chirped once from her perch in the corner. Rumi watched them quietly for a moment.

Derpy headbutted her leg in thanks.

Rumi smiled. "Get used to the early wake-ups from now on."

The memory of last night's call hit her the second she unlocked her phone and saw Celine's name at the top of her messages. She cringed at herself, hesitated, then opened it

Celine: Rumi. I saw your missed call. Are you alright? Call me back when you can.

Rumi closed the app. Celine was probably too fed up with her demon bullshit by now anyway. And maybe she didn't even have the answers Rumi was looking for. She could deal with it herself. All she needed in the future was a couple of painkillers and maybe the comfort of a warm blanket.

What unsettled her most was how her patterns had started acting up on their own again. Until now, she'd always managed to keep track of her powers before and after the Honmoon turned iridescent. Now, pacing her room, she ticked off possibilities on her fingers, crossing out each one in her head.

Tick one: Her patterns always seemed to flare with emotional distress, like outbursts she disguised as anger and insecurities gnawing at her. That much, she could understand.

Tick two: The old Honmoon used to react whenever they tried to take control of her. But now, with the iridescent Honmoon, there was nothing. No reaction at all.

Tick three: They had spread across her whole body on stage. She cut that thought off fast. She didn't want to relive it.

Sometimes they only glowed faintly, as if mirroring her strongest emotions, almost like they were reacting to the room itself.

And lately… lately it was different. Almost two months ago, the aches started. Not the faint stings she remembered from before the patterns first spread, but something deeper, like her bones were on fire but also freezing.

For now, at least, the painkillers did the trick. Strange, really. You'd think human remedies wouldn't work on a half-demon with powers she barely understood. She still wasn't sure why they worked, only that they did.

It was far too early to be thinking this hard. Rumi made a mental note to pick up more pills and maybe, just maybe, to answer Celine's message. Then, barefoot, she padded toward the kitchen.

It was the fact that she still wasn't used to walking around without covering her patterns, but Rumi hated the way the morning chill clung to her skin in the penthouse. Especially around her arms, where the faint glow of her marks always felt more exposed. She rubbed her hands over them as she stepped into the kitchen.

Zoey was already at the counter, still half-asleep, pouring cereal into her favorite turtle-shaped bowl. A gift from a fan that she refused to let anyone else touch.

Her hoodie was falling off one shoulder, hair a mess, socks completely mismatched.

A total disaster.

And yet… Rumi tried not to stare.

Zoey was a morning mess in every possible way, and always had been. But something about it recently made Rumi's stomach twist a little.

Probably hunger.

"Morning, Zo." Rumi said as she moved toward the coffee maker, stretching against the morning chill.

Zoey answered with a low mumble that barely counted as a greeting, finishing it off with a yawn.

Rumi smirked. "So… did you two ever go on that late-night date?"

Zoey gave a slow shake of her head, eyes still half-shut.

"Really? Why not?"

Zoey only shrugged and shoveled a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

"Not very enthusiastic about starting the day, are you?" Rumi teased, pouring coffee into two mugs.

Before Zoey could even try to answer, Mira appeared in the room, tugging a hair tie off her wrist as she spoke. "Maybe let her get through her morning sugar intake first, then you can grill her."

Zoey pointed her spoon at Mira in lazy agreement, milk dripping dangerously close to the counter as Mira moved to leave a small peck on Zoey's forehead.

Rumi dropped two cubes of sugar into Mira's mug before sliding it across the counter. She accepted it with a quiet thanks and took the seat beside Zoey.

Mira's hair was slightly tousled, but not in a just-woke-up way, more like she'd already been awake for hours. Even the band tee half-tucked into her pajama pants looked intentional somehow.

For a moment, the three of them lingered in the hush of the kitchen, the clink of Zoey's spoon, faint TikTok sounds coming from her phone, and the low hum of the refrigerator filling the silence.

They hadn't had a morning this calm in a long time. Not with all the sleepless nights spent chasing demons, or the early dawns packed with tour rehearsals and endless prep. The hiatus had finally given them a chance to breathe and fall back into something like a normal rhythm.

Rumi, at least, had taken full advantage. She'd spent more time asleep these past few months than she could remember in years.

Mira's hand landed gently on Rumi's shoulder, pulling her out of her daze. "What should I cook for us? Something light?" she asked, sipping her coffee.

"Uuu, gyeran bap, please, Mir!" Zoey said immediately, rubbing her eyes. "If it's not too much trouble."

Mira chuckled. Of course Zoey had the biggest appetite in the morning. "Not at all."

Breakfast had always been Mira's territory. Zoey wasn't much of a morning person—she got irritable if she had to do anything before fully waking up—so she usually took over dinner instead. It was a balance they'd fallen into naturally.

Rumi, on the other hand, had never been good in the kitchen. She hadn't touched a pot since their debut, back when they first started living together. The three of them had once agreed to share chores evenly, but as schedules got busier and assistants stepped in, most of Rumi's turns disappeared. Every once in a while, though, especially during breaks, they tried to keep their old rituals alive.

"And you, Rumi?" Mira asked, glancing at her.

Rumi blinked, realizing she'd been staring blankly at the table. "Uh… gyeran bap sounds good." she said quickly. The safest answer. She wasn't picky, and honestly, she couldn't think of anything she was craving.

"Oh, Rumi—almost forgot. The new single's already doing numbers!" Zoey chimed in, energy creeping back into her voice as the milk kicked in. She always made sure to drop little updates for Rumi, convinced her friend had gone completely offline for the whole break, just like she'd claimed.

But that was a lie. Rumi had logged out of her main accounts, sure, but she'd made secret ones, scrolling and reading every speculation fans were throwing around.

"That's awesome. Everyone worked hard for it." Rumi forced a smile, trying to make the words sound brighter than she felt. She knew out of everyone else that she worked the least.

She would've given anything to be back on the couch right now, or buried under her blankets in bed. Anywhere but here. They'd had breaks before, of course, but she'd never truly rested. None of them had. Training, hunting or rehearsals, there was always something pressing down on them.

Now, with the Honmoon sealed, they were officially back on track. Back to idol life, but without demons or battles. On paper, that should have made things a tad easier. But Rumi wasn't ready to let go of the lazy rhythm she'd grown attached to. Late mornings, drifting between naps, endless hours stretched across the couch. That kind of comfort was hard to surrender.

A shiver ran through her, pulling her out of her thoughts. The penthouse felt colder than usual, and she rubbed her arms, wondering if Zoey and Mira noticed the same chill or if it was just her.

"So… you two nervous?" Rumi asked at last, curling her hands tighter around her mug for warmth.

Mira blew gently across the rim of her coffee. "I've been rehearsing explanations in my head since I woke up. So, yeah. Nervous."

Zoey scraped at the bottom of her cereal bowl, chin balanced in her palm. "Nervous, but excited. Been stretching my hand for all the signing too. It's been forever since we've seen them." Her voice softened. "The fans, I mean."

"You'd think we'd be used to the attention by now," Mira added with a small laugh. "But sometimes it still feels like our very first performance."

Zoey's eyes lit with memory. "Remember that first real concert? The way the air smelled, how bad the spotlights burned our eyes? How sore we were for a week because we had rehearsals and training stacked together?" She grinned faintly, lost in the recollection. Mira chuckled, nodding along.

See? They're just as nervous as you are. You don't have to put on a show this time, Rumi's sentimental side whispered.

Yeah, but you know why their nerves are different now, her rational side shot back. They weren't worried about answering questions before. You know it's your patterns making it harder for them.

Rumi swallowed, words caught in her throat. She wanted to join in, wanted to laugh about their first stage performance like she used to. But all she could picture was the rows of faces waiting today, eyes tracking her every move, searching for the faintest flicker of light beneath her skin. The thought made her stomach twist.

Rumi flinched when her phone buzzed against the table. Bobby's name lit up the screen. She swiped to answer and set it on speaker.

"Hi, Bobby!" the three of them chimed at once, voices still groggy.

"Morning, girls." came his easy tone. "What are you up to?"

"Slowly but surely waking up." Rumi said dryly.

"That's good. Take it easy while you can. I won't keep you long, just reminding you we'll swing by around eight. Don't want anyone drifting off schedule."

"Sure thing, Bobby." Zoey answered.

"Sounds good." Mira added.

"Perfect. Anything you need me to pick up before we head out?"

"Oh! Did you get our—" Zoey started, but Bobby cut her off gently.

"Besides your snack list. That's already waiting in the van."

All three of them shared a look across the table, equal parts amused and grateful. Bobby always knew.

"We'll let you know if there are any adjustments." Rumi said.

"I'm sure you will. And girls—no heavy makeup, alright? The crew will handle that before the fansign."

"Got it." Mira replied.

"See you at eight, then."

"Bye, Bobby!" they called together before the line clicked off.

Mira drained the last of her coffee and set the cup aside. "Alright, I'd better start breakfast. Zo, could you pick an outfit for me too?"

"Huh? I barely figured mine out!" Zoey whined, cereal spoon wagging accusingly in the air.

"You'll manage." Mira teased, brushing a crumb from Zoey's cheek on her way past.

Rumi watched them, her patterns prickling faintly under her skin at the sight. It wasn't the same sharp ache from the night before. It was duller but heavier, almost like a knot forming in her chest. Not jealousy exactly, but something close.

She tried to focus on her coffee instead, staring into the half-empty mug until warmth gave way to a cooling bitterness.

Then Zoey leaned forward, chin propped in her palm as she turned to her. "Hey, Rum. You okay?"

"Mm." Rumi nodded automatically, forcing a small smile. "Yeah."

Mira's hand brushed her shoulder lightly as she passed back toward the stove, a grounding touch more than anything. Zoey nudged her knee under the table.

✦·┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈·✦

Bobby was already waiting by the elevator, arms crossed and phone in hand. He broke into a grin as soon as he saw them.

"Ready for your big day?"

The girls nodded, Zoey a little more enthusiastically than Mira, while Rumi stayed quiet, her hands tucked deep into her sleeves.

"Uh, Bobby?" Mira started. "We're still on for the moment of silence, right?"

Bobby looked up from his phone. "Yeah. Of course. You three sure about that? You don't have to—"

"We want to," Rumi said. "It's not for us. It's for them."

Zoey shifted beside her, glancing at Mira, then back to Bobby. "We talked about it last night. It doesn't have to be long. Just something honest."

Bobby studied them for a second longer, then sighed, nodding. "Alright. I’ll tell the management to dim the lights right before your intro. No cameras flashing during it. Just quiet."

"Thanks." Rumi said quietly.

"Listen, don't overthink this fansign." Bobby continued. "The fans are excited, and if anything makes you uncomfortable—questions, comments, whatever—signal me. I'll shut it down. Don't feel like you need to handle it alone." His gaze flicked to Rumi for a beat before moving on.

Rumi thought back to the night they finally sat Bobby down after the Idol Awards and told him everything. His face had gone pale with shock, but there'd been something else there too that she hadn't even seen in Celine very often. Pride.

Bobby had looked at them like they were terrifying and extraordinary all at once. Afraid for them, but also amazed

"We'll be fine, Bobby." Zoey straightened a little.

"You'll be great." Bobby corrected. "The fans have been waiting. Give them your best, but keep yourselves safe first. Got it?"

"Got it." Mira reassured.

Their manager tapped his phone like he was running through a checklist. "Alright. Mira, your green tea water's in the van. Zoey, iced water for you. Rumi, I've got your red ginseng. Snacks are packed, everything's covered. We good?"

"Thank you, Bobby!" All three of them echoed.

"Good. Now, let's get you downstairs. The van's waiting."

Bobby stepped aside to let the crew herd them toward the elevator. Both Mira and Zoey grabbed Rumi by the arms as they strolled outside.

The girls were settled in the van with their own album looping through the speakers as they tried to relax before the fansign. Rumi leaned against the window, letting the blur of the city pass by. Across from her, Zoey and Mira kept breaking into quiet snickers every few seconds, unable to hold back their laughter.

"What's up with you two?" Rumi finally asked.

"Close your eyes." Mira said.

"Do I trust this?" Rumi joked.

"Always!" Zoey said, already digging into her bag.

Rumi obeyed with a reluctant sigh. The van rattled around her, the soft hum of their song filling the silence until Mira's voice gave the signal. "Okay, open."

Rumi blinked just in time to see Zoey drop a plush into her lap. A purple striped tiger with oversized button eyes.

"We wanted to give you this!" Zoey said with a wide grin.

Rumi stared for a bit, then her lips curled into a small smile she couldn't fight off. "Aww... you guys." She hugged the tiger to her chest, shaking her head. "You realize I'm running out of bed space, right? Between all the plushies you keep buying me and Derpy taking up half the mattress, I'm going to end up sleeping on the floor."

Zoey laughed. "Guess we'll just have to buy you a bigger bed, then. Or a bunk bed. Bottom row for you, top row for the plushies."

"We can always share a bed though." Mira smirked.

Rumi rolled her eyes, but the warmth lingered. It was silly, but thoughtful, and exactly the kind of small comfort she needed today without asking for it.

She pressed her cheek against the tiger's soft head, not even trying to hide the flicker of emotion in her expression. "Thanks. Really."

Mira leaned back, blushing. "We saw how much you liked it when you passed by the toy stand last week."

Zoey noded. "Yeah! You have this thing where you stare at something you like a lot, and when you realize it, you try to glance away, but you still keep staring. Ahh, it's so cute, unnie!"

Rumi's ears warmed. "I do not."

"Okay well, Rumi's discreet." Mira said, amused. "You, on the other hand, jump up and down like a kid in a candy store."

Zoey stuck out her tongue at Mira, which earned a quiet laugh and a kiss on the lips.

Rumi hugged the tiger tighter, noticing how the faint scent of her girls already clung to the fabric. Without meaning to, her patterns stirred with a soft glow pulsing faintly beneath her t-shirt. Another response to emotion she couldn't quite hide. Mira and Zoey exchanged a glance. They still weren't used to this... upgrade. And neither was Rumi, who always flushed a little whenever her body betrayed her like that.

"It's honestly sick how you can just do that." Mira remarked, eyes narrowing with half-admiration.

"Right?!" Zoey leaned closer. "I want this feature in my body too!"

Rumi groaned, pulling the plush halfway over her face. "It's not a feature. Stop making it sound cool."

"But it is! You're basically a... walking disco ball!" Zoey shot back, wiggling her fingers like fake sparkles.

Mira nearly choked on her green tea at that, coughing through a laugh.

"What? It's a solid comparison! I can almost see it." Zoey giggled.

Mira recovered. "You know those little toys that light up when you shake them? And they play a tinny song too?"

Zoey gasped dramatically. "Are you saying we should shake Rumi to see if she glows and sings?"

Mira bit back a laugh. "Well we know she does that."

Rumi lowered the plush just enough to glare at them, feigning offense. "How dare you insult your leader like this?"

Zoey smirked. "Popstar royalty or leader-slash-portable-nightlight?"

"Best leader title ever." Mira nodded.

Then Zoey leaned forward suddenly, resting her arms on the back of the seat in front of her. "Mmm, by the way… any cravings lately, Rum? Like… cake? Or maybe a day off to do nothing?"

Rumi frowned. "Cake? Not really. Why?"

"No reason." Zoey's grin was too quick, her eyes darting to the window as if the city had suddenly gotten interesting. Beside her, Mira smirked knowingly, saying nothing.

"Ugh, if this is about my birthday coming up, I really don't want any surprises this year. You know I hate them." Rumi said.

Zoey immediately pouted. "But they're the good kind of surprises!"

"So it is about my birthday."

Mira groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You're terrible at being subtle, Zo."

"Hey! Excuse me for trying to plan something cute for our friend, Mira!" Zoey protested, sticking her tongue out.

"You could've asked about what cake she wanted in a more discreet way." Mira countered.

"But what if she didn't like itttt?" Zoey whined.

"We've been buying her the same cake every year, babe. Pretty sure we know by now." Mira deadpanned.

Rumi watched them bicker. They were trying, she knew that. But she also knew the reason they'd brought it up in the first place. They knew her too well, knew she hated surprises or being thrown into the spotlight without warning. Crazy considering shes a literal idol in the industry. But she'd rather have everything laid out in advance, something she could brace herself for. And yet, a part of her almost wished she could just let them surprise her.

"I think I want a quiet birthday this year. You know… around this time last year, we were on that Europe tour."

Both Mira and Zoey nodded at once.

"A quiet one sounds perfect." Mira agreed.

The van slowed, tires crunching softly as it turned into the lot. The building loomed ahead, bright banners stretched across the entrance.

Zoey leaned forward, grin tugging at her lips. "But… I'm not sure if the cake this year will ever compete with the one from that bakery in… France, I think?"

"That one really was unfairly good." Rumi reminisced back on the taste.

Her voice lingered in the air just as the van rolled to a stop. The laughter faded, replaced by the low hum of the engine and the reality of where they were.

Chapter Text

"Can you please pass me the chocolate?" Zoey nudged Mira with her elbow.

Mira didn't move. Instead, she tilted her head toward Rumi. "Rumi, can you please pass me the chocolate?" she echoed, her tone playful.

Zoey groaned. "I asked you, not Rumi. You're closer to it. Besides, Rumi's already been fetching things for us." Her words were more lazy than anything, softened by exhaustion.

It was the morning after the Idol Awards. Their bodies sprawled across the couch like they'd been dropped there with every breath they took being a reminder of soreness. One of them grunted every couple of minutes with the sound of pain and half-suppressed laughter mixed together. Rumi couldn't remember when they'd actually fallen asleep, if they had. She just remembered drifting in and out, barely clinging to dreamland or maybe consciousness itself.

Now, daylight slanted through. Celine was nearby in case they needed more than privacy could give.

Rumi reached, stretching across the coffee table for Zoey's favorite chocolate bar. The motion tugged at her ribs, a sharp pang making her bite down on a whine that escaped as a grunt instead. She shoved the bar into Zoey's hand with a faint smirk. "It's fine. I think I'm left with fewer scratches than you guys anyway."

It was true, her half-demon side had shielded her more than their human skin ever could. But still. The ache burrowed deep into her bones, and she knew it wasn't fine. Not really.

"Thanks." Zoey muttered around a bite of chocolate, then immediately winced, letting out a grunt as she tried to shift on the couch. "God, I can't believe we actually sealed the Honmoon for good."

Rumi blinked, the words pulling her out of the fog for a second. "Not just sealed it, but created a new one." The thought almost didnt feel real. Part of her wanted to be happy–and was happy—but part of her was still somewhere else, hovering in that cold, stage light from last night.

Zoey grinned through the pain. "If I could jump from happiness right now, I would."

Mira gave her a flat look. "You'd dislocate something if you tried." Then she sighed and turned to Rumi. "What I can't believe is the fact that you lied to us, Rumi."

Rumi's chest tightened immediately. The apology rose like instinct. I'm sorry, I should've told you, I didn't know how— but Mira kept going.

"We're sorry for the way we reacted," she said, "but come on… we would've reacted differently if you had told us sooner."

Her tone wasn't the cruel one Rumi hated, more like tired, but it landed like a stone in Rumi's stomach.

"I get it." Rumi said quietly. "I'm sorry—"

"Hey, Mira, no—" Zoey cut in quickly, wincing a little at the pull in her side as she forced herself to sound steady. "Don't make it sound like it was all her fault." She lowered her voice. "We talked about this." Then she straightened "What Mira's trying to say is that we would've loved you the same. We just—got scared, that's all. A deal with Gwi-Ma is a big thing."

Huh?

Mira nodded slightly. "Well yeah. I'm honestly surprised you're left unharmed. Well, mostly. Is it because you're a hunter or something?"

HUH?

Rumi's head snapped up. "What? No! Was it not obvious? I'm–" she hesitated, looking between them, "I'm part demon."

"Oh."

The word slipped out of both of them at once. They exchanged a glance, then looked back at her. For the first time since the stage, the silence wasn't from exhaustion. It was the heavy pause of questions they hadn't had the chance to ask until now.

And Rumi could feel every one of those questions pressing in.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Rumi believed in karma a good amount. She wasn't a spiritual person per se, but she was proof that supernatural things existed, so the act of karma itself wasnt a strange thing for her. But what she really wasn't fond of was the universe deciding she deserved karma today.

Because seriously, why this building? Why this venue? Out of every hall, every fan meeting spot in the city… they had to come back here. The place where the Saja Boys had crashed their event.

Maybe it was just her. Maybe she was overthinking, too caught up in nostalgia, confusing one lobby for another. Maybe she was the only one remembering the exact same entrance, the walls, the way the floor tiles shined under too-bright lights— Nope. Mira's brows were furrowed tight, and Zoey's smile had vanished. They remembered too.

This was the same entrance. These were the same private rooms. The same big room and the same smell in the air.

"Alright, girls," Bobby said with his usual enthusiasm, clapping his hands together. "The stylists are waiting in the prep area. Go ahead and drop your things off, and we'll get you set up."

Zoey and Mira moved ahead, but Rumi lingered. Her pulse spiked with her patterns prickling faintly beneath her short t-shirt sleeves. Before she could stop herself, she reached out.

"Sorry, wait. Bobby—um…" Her throat tightened. "Why wasn't I made aware of the venue beforehand?"

Bobby blinked, but his smile remained. "Rumi, I did tell you. A week ago. I told all three of you."

A week ago? No, she would've remembered that, right? Wouldn't she?

"The other place was overbooked." Bobby continued.

She'd been paying attention, she had to have been. Unless she wasn't and tuned it out.

"There was a scheduling overlap with another idol group, so this was the only option. We locked it in days ago."

Overbooked. Overlap. Idol group. His words blurred together, clattering around her head like marbles. The hallway felt smaller and the air thinner.

Why are you making poor Bobby worry? He bends over backwards for you, and you're still ungrateful. Is this how you're going to act after a hiatus? Pathetic. Her rational side pounced first.

So she just nodded, muttered an apology to Bobby as if she'd only now remembered, and forced her feet to follow the others into the prep area for touch-ups.

"AAAA! We finally get to share the same prep room as Unnie!!" Zoey squealed the second Rumi stepped through the door. The stylists barely flinched, by now, they were used to her outbursts, as Zoey bounced on her toes, wrapping her arms around both Mira and Rumi in one dramatic hug.

"Zoey, we've been to the bathhouse." Rumi mumbled, cheeks warming more from embarrassment than anything as the maknae squished her face against hers. "Are you really this excited to share a changing room with me?"

"Just give her three more months." Mira said, sliding in to hug them both from the side.

"This totally calls for a selfie—HUNTR/X comeback worthy!" Zoey declared, whipping her phone out.

Yes. Rumi was sharing changing rooms with her girls now. Before sealing the Honmoon, she'd dreamed of being more open with people, but actually living it was different. Still embarrassing in ways she hadn't expected. Every time a stylist leaned in close, the faint shimmer of her markings glowed on her skin, like they were being put under a microscope. It wasn't shame exactly—she wasn't nude, not even close—but the vulnerability remained all the same.

Before, she usually kept her distance, doing touch-ups alongside Zoey and Mira only if her outfit had been carefully picked out by herself. She'd sit stiff, worrying her marks might show under the wrong angle of light.

Now… now she let herself enjoy it. The casual chatter of the stylists, the quick compliments about how her features suited the lights and the faint music thrumming from Mira's speaker. They rotated turns in the chair easily, falling into a rhythm, and Rumi found herself laughing more often than not, usually at Zoey's relentless commentary, which made even Mira roll her eyes.

"By the way," Mira said, tilting her head toward Zoey, "you need to stop stealing the blankets when we nap between schedules. I wake up freezing."

Zoey gasped dramatically, clutching at her chest like she'd been accused of a crime. "You roll yourself up like a burrito and leave me no choice."

"You could ask instead of clawing at them like a stray cat. Rumi, seriously, if we ever end up napping in the same room again, beware. Zoey steals blankets in her sleep." Mira's complained, but her lips curved into the faintest smile.

Zoey leaned closer with mock innocence. "And what if I like being the stray?"

Rumi tried to keep her eyes on the mirror, but the reflection betrayed her. Mira's hand drifted up almost unconsciously, tucking a loose strand of Zoey's hair behind her ear to smooth it down. Zoey blinked at her, grin flickering into something softer.

Her chest felt heavy watching them.

Before she realized it, the stylists were finished. Everything was in place and they still had fifteen whole minutes to kill before the doors opened. The room shifted into a softer kind of buzz: laughing, scrolling on their phones, stretching out the nerves before the storm, and snacking down.

Zoey had settled comfortably against Mira's shoulder, phone in hand as the two scrolled through a playlist together.

"What about this one?" Zoey asked. "We could rework it into an acoustic cover."

Mira tilted her head, considering. "Hmm. Maybe. But your range would kill on the chorus of the other one, don't you think?"

They slipped into the easy rhythm of tossing ideas back and forth. Zoey tilted her phone just so Mira could see every word and Mira adjusted her posture slightly so Zoey could lean more comfortably against her. Little things. Intimate things.

Rumi tried to nod along when they asked her opinion, tried to keep her smile steady. But beneath it, the awareness weighed heavy, as if the air between the three of them had quietly shifted without her catching on until now.

Rumi smiled because she was supposed to.

She then excused herself without really excusing herself, slipping a step back from Zoey and Mira's chatter. She crouched by her bag, pretending to rummage through it, then pulled out her phone as if she had a notification to check. In truth, she just needed the corner of silence, or an illusion of something to focus on that wasn't the weight pressing in on her chest.

Enjoying the quiet? Sentimental Rumi whispered first. They didn't say anything about your marks. See? They're careful with you. They don't want to upset you. They're protecting you, the way you protect them. Isn't that good? Isn't that what you wanted?

Rumi's chest loosened for a second, but Rational Rumi's voice slammed in almost immediately. Stop inventing drama. You always ruin this. Everyone's watching, so act like a professional for once. Why can't you just be normal? Look at Mira. Look at Zoey. Why are you like this?

Her eyes flicked back toward them, but the room blured at the edges. Sentimental Rumi pressed harder. They're pretending. You can't see it? They laugh softly because they're walking on eggshells. They know that everyone today will get scared of your marks.

Out of instinct, Rumi reached for the sleeve that wasn't there. Her hand brushed bare skin instead of fabric like she was used with. The deep violet top clung too close, paired with silver pants and black accents. Right. Their new single's concept designed in their outfits. Still, her pulse quickened as she glanced down at herself, suddenly hyperaware of how exposed she felt and she didn't even know why it scared her so much.

You're making it up. You always twist kindness into pity. They laugh because they're happy, and you're ungrateful and melodramatic.

She couldnt make out the thread of her friends' conversation anymore, but the burst of laughter coming from where they stood rang clear and something hotter than embarrassment cracked open behind her ribs.

Why can't you be like them? Rational Rumi seethed. Why are they okay, while you're this broken thing?

The guilt struck faster than the flare of heat could root itself: How dare you? How dare you resent them for breathing? They've bled, too. They're trying to make this normal for you. They're trying, and you're spitting on it.

The inner sting of that rebuttal didn't fix anything. It just cracked her further, like splitting a mirror down the middle. A remembered voice—Gwi-Ma's, or just the echo of him in her head—slipped through: You can't even fix yourself.

A hand brushed her shoulder. Rumi flinched, turned and found Mira watching her, eyes softened with worry.

"Oh… you're crying again?" Mira's voice was almost a whisper like she was afraid a sharper tone might break her entirely.

Rumi blinked disoriented, and lifted a hand to her cheek. Her fingertips came away damp. She hadn't even noticed. Of course. It was routine by now. Tears slipping out when she least expected them, grief leaking through cracks. Constant reminders that no matter how much she tried to bury it, she hadn't outrun any of it.

Now Rumi couldnt string words together if she tried, while shuddering sobs that she pressed uselessly into her hand.

Mira didn't pry. She only slipped her fingers through Rumi's and tugged gently. "Come on." she murmured.

Rumi let herself be pulled until Mira stopped at one of the empty makeup booth. She brushed a thumb across Rumi's damp cheek and sighed, though her tone stayed impossibly gentle. "You've ruined your makeup." A pause soft enough to sting. "No time to call the artist back again. I'll handle it."

Instantly, Rumi cringed inward. Images from the awards flashed, the version of herself she never wanted to be the lasting picture in anyone's head. The thought of Mira seeing her like that again made her want to disappear. Worse, a meaner part of her whispered that Mira's softness was pity, not tenderness. If Mira was gentle now, maybe it was because she felt sorry for the broken thing in front of her.

But she wasn't even sure if she had the energy to protest otherwise, so Mira sat down in the chair and pulled her with her, settling Rumi onto her lap, facing her. The closeness was dizzying, but Mira held her like it was the most natural thing in the world, already reaching for tissues with her free hand.

"Hold still." she whispered, but her tone carried patience.

Rumi sniffled, trying to pull herself together. "Where's Zoey?"

"With Bobby." Mira replied.

"Don't tell her about this." Rumi blushed.

"I won't." Mira's hand moved again with a cotton pad dipped in the smallest bit of remover. "You're okay." Mira murmured eventually, soft enough that Rumi almost wondered if she'd meant for it to be heard. Mira set the pad down and, instead of rushing, reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Rumi's ear. "Don't worry about talking." she added. "Just breathe. I've got you."

That was when Rumi noticed how close Mira's face really was, the faint scent of her perfume, the soft fall of her hair against her shoulder. Her hoodie hung open just enough to reveal the lace of her black top, unfairly perfect. And her makeup, flawless, of course. Every detail spot on. She's the visual, after all.

Her patterns betrayed her instantly, pulsing in sync with her nerves. Mira didn't comment. She worked quietly, brushing concealer under Rumi's eyes with such gentleness it felt more like comfort than correction.

Rumi tried not to stare, but every time Mira leaned in, every time that steady hand at her waist tightened just slightly, her chest pulled tighter, too. She prayed Mira would chalk her flushed cheeks up to leftover crying and not… whatever else this was.

She definitely wasn't used to this much contact after being closed off for so long.

Mira blended the last touch with her fingertip, tilting Rumi's chin slightly to check her work. "There, good as new." she whispered.

Rumi wanted to say thank you and explain herself, but the words tangled and stuck. All she managed was a nod while her gaze pulled away before Mira could read too much on her face. The room hummed back to life around them with stylists rustling through palettes, staff voices rising and Zoey's laughter carrying from across the prep area.

Then Bobby's voice cut through the din: "Alright, girls. Time to head out. Fans are already lining up."

Mira gave Rumi's hand one last squeeze before letting go, rising to her feet. Rumi stood too, willing her heartbeat to calm as they followed the others toward the entrance. Beyond the doors, the muffled roar of the crowd was already building.

The closer they got to the doors, the louder it swelled. The muffled voices sharpening into scattered squeals..The makeup Mira had so carefully redone felt like a mask now, really ready to crack under a single wrong look. She kept her head slightly down, trailing half a step behind the others, thinking that the extra distance might shield her.

They were waiting for her out there. Not Mira. Not Zoey. Her. Their gazes, their questions, their admiration that could turn bad without warning.

This is what you wanted. You chose this path. You're supposed to be grateful.

The crowds cheer spiked again, and she swore she felt her patterns stir faintly under her sleeves, restless, almost in recognition. Like even they remembered the Idol Awards better than she did. Rumi forced her lips into a smile, praying it wouldnt betray the tremor in her chest. Mira and Zoey looked radiant beside her.

When the doors finally opened, the noise surged into something almost physical, a wave of phones, and voices crashing against them. Rumi blinked against the brightness, following Mira and Zoey to the long table set up with stacks of albums, sharpies lined up.

But before the first fan was allowed to approach, Bobby raised a hand toward the crowd and spoke into his mic. "Before we begin, the girls have requested a short moment of silence."

The noise dimmed almost instantly, the room's warmth giving way to an uncertain stillness. Rumi could feel the air shift the same way it had the day of that interview. The one where they finally told the truth and said the names of the missing out loud and admitted what no one wanted to believe: those people hadn't just vanished. They had died. And HUNTR/X hadn't been able to save them all.

She remembered that press conference vividly. The flashes, the sting in her eyes, the silence that followed her trembling words, the way her throat burned afterward. It had been the first time she realized that grief could be collective. Now, standing at the table with Zoey and Mira beside her, that same silence felt different. Not a confession, but a tribute.

"This is for the lives lost." Mira said softly into her mic. "For those who didn't get to come back home."

Zoey bowed her head first, Mira following a heartbeat later. Rumi stood still, her hands clasped in front of her with a lowered gaze.

"We wouldn't be here without them." Zoey said.

"We want to pay our respects to them. So... just for a few seconds, let's give them our quiet." Rumi added.

The crowd obeyed. Phones lowered. Some fans even clasped their hands together. Rumi took a slow breath, afraid it would disturb the quiet. Even if they were back to doing what every other idol group did, a part of their hearts still belonged to the ones they couldn't save as hunters. To the families still waiting for closure, to the souls that never got peace.

When Bobby finally gave the small nod from the side of the room, the silence broke like a fragile glass.

"Thank you." Rumi said quietly into the mic. "Really."

And then the noise returned, the wave of sound crashing over them again.

The first fan stepped forward, all wide eyes and trembling hands as they placed an album in front of her. "Rumi-unnie," the girl stammered, cheeks pink with nerves. "Um… I just wanted to say thank you. I was so worried during the hiatus. Are you doing okay now?"

For a second, Rumi froze. The words werent accusatory. "I—" She swallowed. "I'm doing better now. Thank you for worrying and for showing up at this event." Her voice came out quieter than she meant, but the fan lit up like it was enough.

The next leaned forward with a shy grin. "You look so pretty, unnie. I can't wait for the next concert. Do you… have any spoilers?"

Mira laughed beside her, teasingly covering Zoey's mouth before she could blurt something reckless. Rumi managed a small chuckle too as she signed. "If I told you, it wouldn't be as enjoyable, would it?"

Fan after fan passed by. They were clutching banners with her name, some shyly asking for her signature, some slipping little notes or drawings folded with care.

"Unnie, thank you for saving my mom and me that night. We'll never forget you."

"I think your new outfits rock. Can't wait to see you perform in the next concert, Rumi!"

A boy her age bowed awkwardly and muttered, "I'm your biggest fan, please keep going. Your music saved me." before nearly tripping as he walked away, sending Zoey into a quiet giggle fit.

"Rumi, excuse me—hi, um, I drew you. Since how I remembered you at Namsan Tower."

"You're the reason I started singing. Please keep shining for us. UHH, no pun intended!"

And through it all, Rumi felt something she hadn't expected: warmth. Not pity or judgment like she had thought. Just... genuine affection.

"Hi! I don't really have a question. I just... wanted to tell you that I'm your biggest fan."

"Rumi, are you doing okay these days? You look a little tired."

The line moved on, one fan after another, and Rumi had begun to slip into a fragile rhythm. Smile, sign, small talk, pose, thank you, next. Smile, sign, small talk, pose, thank you, next. Every once in a while, a genuine word would catch her off guard and she'd feel that warmth again like someone had placed a blanket over her shoulders, but not to hide her this time.

Rumi's eyes kept drifting sideways. She checked on Zoey, then Mira, almost compulsively. This whole thing had to be just as exhausting for them, yet they smiled and spoke with the kind of ease she wished she could borrow. When her gaze slipped lower, she caught Zoey's hand tucked discreetly under the table, Mira's fingers laced with hers. A quiet tether neither of them drew attention to, but steady all the same. They always made it look so effortless.

Rumi had been running on autopilot for almost an hour by now. It was muscle memory, all the little gestures of warmth she'd learned to perform even when her insides were unraveling.

Until the next fan leaned forward.

"Um… hi, Rumi." she began with a tentative but kind tone. "You're even prettier in person."

Rumi smiled softly. "Thank you. I like your nails. They're cute."

"Ah, oh gosh umm... I, um, don't know if you remember me, but I went to your tour concert last year! You waved at me!"

Rumi's polite smile didn't falter. "That's sweet. I'm glad you came again."

The girl's shoulders relaxed a little, but her eyes were searching nervously. "Can I... ask you something? It's not—like, I'm not trying to be rude, I swear."

Rumi hesitated mid-autograph. "Of course. Go ahead."

"It's about Jinu from the Saja Boys."

There it was. The name hit her like static in her chest.

"I heard rumors..." the fan continued, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern. "That he really... died. And that... you were there? I mean I think I've seen some videos online, I uh... I come from another country haha. I mean, you two were close, right?"

The crowd noise dimmed for a second in Rumi's ears. She kept her expression steady. "Woah, from another country? Your Korean's really good."

The fan brightened immediately. "Ah—thank you! I practiced a lot. Actually, I studied a bit just for this moment." She laughed a little too eagerly. "Because, you know, I see so many things online, and I'm just... skeptical. I wanted to hear it straight from you. And you know how language barriers are."

Rumi was unsure whether to be flattered or unsettled. "That's... very dedicated of you." she said slowly.

"Yeah! I mean, the videos are crazy realistic, right? But I kept thinking maybe people just edited them. Or maybe the company was hiding something? I just wanted to know the truth."

Rumi's grip on the pen tightened slightly. "Well, if you've seen the interview where we explained everything... he was a hoobae that turned out to be more than he led on. We were friends." her tone was polite but measured.

"Oh." The girl nodded, then winced at her own persistence. "Friends, right. It's just—fans said you seemed… really affected. More than the others. There was something between you two, and I thought maybe... Well, people used to ship you two all the time. I mean, not to be weird, but it must've been hard to lose him like that. You must still miss him a lot."

The words slipped into her like needles wrapped in sympathy.

Rumi forced a breath, her pen pressing too hard against the glossy page. "Yeah." she managed. "He was important to all of us in a way."

"And—oh! You fought the Saja boys, right? That must've been terrifying! I mean, you have powers, don't you? That's so cool! Wasn't it scary, though? Like—actually fighting?"

Rumi blinked. The sudden turn in topics was dizzying. "Yeah." she said, choosing her words carefully. "It was a little scary even if we've been doing that for a while now. But powers or not, I'm... still human like you. Mostly."

The fan giggled, like she didn't realize how loaded that last word was. "That's crazy. I could never! You're so strong. I mean, if I had those markings, I'd probably just hide too. But you made them look so cool. Even at the Idol Awards, oh my god, I wasn't there but I saw the videos online and all the Twitter posts. It must've been so hard for you, being exposed like that to everyone. I just want you to know we're here for you. You don't have to hide."

Rumi forced herself to smile. "That's so nice of you." she said quietly. "It means a lot."

The fan gave a small, awkward smile. "I just thought—sometimes it helps to talk about it, you know? To not bottle it up. You look tired lately, and—"

Zoey coughed loudly at the table, the kind of interruption that was obviously deliberate. Her other hand brushed Rumi's knee under the table with a small, grounding touch.

"I'm alright." she said quickly, maybe too quickly. "But thank you for worrying."

"Oh—yeah, of course! And don't worry, I don't think you're a monster like some people said online. I mean, you can't help what you are, right?" The fan bowed deeply embarrassed. "Sorry if that was too personal. You're doing amazing, really. Stay healthy!"

Rumi nodded, smiling. "...Thank you for coming." she said softly, sliding the signed album back to her.

The girl moved on, and the next fan stepped forward, beaming. But Rumi's pulse stayed uneven. The sound of pens clicking and camera shutters snapping blurred together. Somewhere beside her, Zoey's hand brushed hers under the table for half a second.

And still, Rumi couldn't stop hearing it: You must still miss him a lot.

She always hated strange, pushy fans.

Then her gaze snagged on something in the crowd. Not one of the fans standing directly in front of her, but further back. A boy waiting in line to be noticed with his hair falling just so, the same tilt of the smile.

Ink bleeding into a single black dot on the page as her pen stalled mid-signature. Her chest dropped.

Jinu.

It couldn't be.

He's dead, long gone. You know he's dead. Stop looking for him in every shadow. You're embarrassing yourself.

Another voice whispered urgently: Wait, but what if? What if just this once... what if you're wrong? What if he and everyone else I failed aee here, alive?

The fan in front of her was speaking something about a song they hoped she'd sing live but Rumis ears caught none of it. She nodded automatically, her eyes glued to the figure in the back.

And then he smiled. Right at her. The boy lifted a hand in a small wave and then moved with the crowd, swallowed by bodies shuffling closer to the table.

Before she could think, she was on her feet with the chair scraping against the floor. "Wait—" The word cracked out of her before she could swallow it down. Heads turned. Zoey froze mid-signature. Mira's marker stilled against an album cover. Staff stiffened at the sudden noise.

"Rumi?" Mira's voice, accompanied by Zoey's arm placed on Rumi's.

The whole room had gone quiet.

Pathetic. He's gone. You're chasing ghosts. Sit down before you ruin this entire event.

The silence thickened with hundreds of eyes watching, waiting for her to explain. Heat pooled under her skin. A sharp, biting throb. Her patterns. They pulsed, faintly at first, then harder, aching like fire just beneath the surface again.

Not here. Not now.

She curled her hands into fists on the table, forcing them still. Don't touch your skin, dont give yourself away. Not in front of them. Not when they're finally smiling at you again.

Her breaths came shallow. She tried to force her body back into the chair, but her legs trembled with the effort. Mira and Zoey were watching silently. The fans whispered.

It was him. It had to be. You cant just let him walk away again. Her chest still ached with the impossible hope that if she just turned fast enough, she'd see him again.

Only a few more fans. Two, maybe three. Four or five. She couldn't bring herself to meet their eyes. Not when her body betrayed her so plainly with those dull, purplish tones that used to shimmer now looked bruised and sickly. Not when her expression gave her away, face held tight as if she was fighting down a cough she couldn't release.

The ache was rising under her skin with every pen stroke. She needed the pills and relief. But the line of expectant faces blurred together, and she knew she couldn't bail on the fans again.

"Rumi, what's going on?" Zoey whispered, her hand brushing against Rumi's thigh under the table. It should have been comforting, but every soft press against her patterns made them sear like fire under her skin. They were both trying not to draw attention from the staff milling nearby and fans leaning forward with eager smiles, but Zoey's wide eyes gave her away with barely restrained worry.

Rumi forced herself to smile at the fan speaking to her. Then, with the smallest flick of her wrist, she pushed Zoey's hand away. She couldn't let anyone see. She just had to finish this.

Only a few more. Just a handful left. She forced herself through the motions, signing and smiling, her pen digging harder into the paper than it should. Her skin pulsed with that sickly violet, patterns throbbing like open wounds, but she kept her hands steady until the very last album slid across the table.

"Thank you." she heard herself say, though her voice cracked thin.

And then she didn't wait. Not for Mira, or Zoey, not even Bobby's cue to bow out gracefully. Rumi was already up, chair scraping back, legs carrying her before she could second-guess it. The hall tilted sideways, lights strobing too bright, the roar of the crowd muffled and warped in her ears. She couldn't even feel her feet on the ground, just the hot push of panic propelling her.

She slipped past the rooms and didn't stop until she found an empty corner in the prepping area, crouching low, pressing her arms tight around herself as if that could hold the pain inside. The nausea surged up suddenly— oh, perfect, a new symptom. Just what she needed. But all she wanted was to purge the ache and the humiliation clawing through her chest.

Somewhere in the blur, she knew Bobby or a crew member would find her. But right now, she just wanted to disappear.