Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air in the forest was heavy. The kind of heavy that pressed against lungs and skin, as if the night itself wanted to swallow the world whole.

Their flashlights cut through the dark like spears of gold, beams catching the mist that drifted between the trees. Leaves whispered underfoot, soft and wet from the storm earlier. No birds. No crickets. Nothing. Just the sound of their steps.

Rumi walked a few paces ahead, saingeom in hand, the faint hum of its power syncing with her heartbeat. Behind her, Mira's silhouette moved like a shadow in rhythm with each of her step was silent as she observed the area. Zoey brought up the rear, eyes darting through the trees with the kind of focus only she could maintain when she was nervous.

The missing-persons reports had all pointed here to the north of Seoul's forgotten trail, where the forest grew too thick for sound to escape. The perfect hunting ground if demons were involved.

"Creepy but quiet," Zoey muttered, lowering her flashlight to avoid blinding them. "You'd think with this many disappearances, we'd hear… something."

"You'd also think people would stop wandering into cursed forests," Mira said. Her tone was even, but Rumi caught the tension in it.

Rumi smiled faintly over her shoulder. "Since when have Hunters stopped doing stupid things for answers?"

"Since never," Zoey said, and Mira exhaled through her nose in reluctant agreement.

They pushed deeper into the woods. The air shifted. The earth smelled metallic, plus it smelled like blood, faint and old. Rumi slowed, senses stirring in a way that made her stomach knot. Her demon side always reacted first to danger, even when she didn't want it to.

"Something's here," she murmured.

The others froze. Mira's woldo shimmered into her hand with a familiar metallic hiss, starlight glinting off its edge. Zoey tightened her grip on her twin shin-kal, scanning the darkness.

Branches cracked somewhere ahead. A low growl echoed between the trees, which was too guttural to be human, too broken to be a demon's voice.

Rumi stepped forward. "Show yourself."

The thing lunged before the word finished leaving her lips.

It was fast, much faster than most demons they'd faced, a blur of black fur and golden eyes,. Rumi's grip on her saingeom tightened. "That's not a demon," she whispered.

"Then what the hell is it?" Zoey hissed, stepping closer, twin blades raised and ready.

No one answered.

The thing burst from the darkness like a shadow given flesh.

Rumi barely reacted in time. She swung her saingeom upward, catching the blur of motion mid-lunge. The impact jolted through her arms like she'd struck stone. The creature snarled, a flash of black fur and golden eyes visible before it slammed her into a tree trunk hard enough to knock the wind out of her lungs. It was very strong

"Rumi!" Mira shouted, already sprinting forward. Zoey's blades flared to life behind her. Rumi gasped, bringing her knee up and shoving the creature back. It stumbled, landing on all fours. For a heartbeat, the world froze around her, and she finally saw it clearly.

Its skin was pallid, stretched too tight over a human-shaped frame that was wrong in every proportion. The eyes were a luminous gold, animalistic and unblinking. Its mouth opened to reveal teeth that weren't human or demon. It was too long, too many, and glinting like wet glass in the dark.

The thing lunged again, impossibly fast. Rumi rolled aside, slashing upward, but it dodged her attack. It howled a raw, animal sound that made her ears ring and backhanded her with enough force to send her sprawling, but she was aware that it was going to jump on her.

Mira was there before it could attack Rumi. The creature reeled back with a snarl, clutching at the gash across its side. For the first time, they saw blood, thick, dark, and slow to fall, but undeniably blood. It splattered against the wet leaves, steaming faintly in the cold night air, and both Rumi and Mira noticed it.

Mira stepped forward cautiously, her woldo still raised. She pressed the flat of the blade against a leaf where the blood had dripped, expecting it to hiss, to burn, to vanish. It didn't. It stayed on it, thick, wet, and real.

"What the hell is that?" Zoey whispered.

"Not demon," Rumi rasped, Mira lent her hand to help Rumi up. "Not anything I've ever seen."

"It didn't vanish," Mira muttered.

Zoey's voice trembled. "So if it's not demon..."

Rumi inspected the blood, even touching it. "It's human," she muttered. "But it's not," Rumi said, voice low. The three of them exchanged a look, a look of uneasy silence. The forest around them seemed to lean in, listening. Then Rumi caught movement. A faint rustle in the underbrush, followed by the soft drag of something wounded trying to flee. "It's moving," she said sharply. "That way. Stay sharp." Mira and Zoey nodded.

Without another word, they followed the trail. The forest deepened as they went, where the tree trunks were getting taller, the fog was getting denser, and roots started to claw at their boots. The air grew colder, heavier with the smell of iron and damp earth.

Every so often, the trail split, where blood smears were on bark, claw marks dug deep into the wood, as though the creature had tried to steady itself. The sound of their breathing filled the gaps between the night's silence. When they reached a clearing, the blood trail ended. It pooled beneath a cluster of twisted roots, still fresh, still glistening. The ground was torn apart, clawed and churned. A few tufts of black fur clung to the bark.

It was silent for a few moments... then it came.

A blur of black fur burst out from the shadows with a snarl that shook the leaves loose from their branches. It slammed into Rumi before anyone could react, the force knocking her flat onto the ground. Her sword flew from her hand, disappearing as claws dug into her shoulders. "Rumi!" Mira shouted, her voice sharp enough to cut through the chaos.

Rumi gasped, struggling beneath the weight pressing down on her. The thing's face was inches from hers. Its breath was rancid with rot and iron, its eyes burning gold like twin moons in a corpse's skull. It wasn't a demon. This wasn't anything she'd seen before. Then it bit down. The teeth sank deep into her shoulder, tearing through fabric and flesh. The sound was wet and brutal. Rumi screamed a raw, guttural sound that ripped through the clearing.

"Mira! Zoey!" Her hand shot out blindly, clawing at the earth, reaching for anyone.

"Hold on!" Zoey's voice cracked, her blades flashing as she sprinted forward. Mira was already moving. "Get off her!" Mira roared, swinging her woldo through the air, blue light cutting a crescent across the darkness. Mira moved with one single, fluid motion, her woldo singing through the air. The creature's head separated cleanly from its shoulders, the body collapsing beside Rumi with a heavy thud.

The forest went silent again. No wind. No insects. Just Rumi's ragged breathing and the faint hum of Mira's weapon.

The forest went dead quiet again, there was no wind, no insects: only the low hum of Mira's woldo fading into silence and the sound of Rumi's uneven breathing.

Zoey stepped closer, flashlight trembling slightly in her grip. "It… It's not fading," she whispered.

The creature's body remained on the ground, bleeding, heavy, and solid. The head lay a few feet away, eyes open and glassy, mouth twisted in a frozen snarl. The demons they fought and killed never stayed like this. They always turned to vapor and ash within seconds. This one was too human. Too real.

Zoey crouched and studied it, the beam of her flashlight reflecting off the black veins that webbed across its black furred skin. "What the hell are you?"

"Zoey," Mira warned, tone sharp. "Don't touch it."

But Zoey ignored her, grabbing a loose scrap of cloth from her pack. She carefully wrapped the severed head in the cloth. "I'm not keeping the whole, just the head," she muttered, standing. "This is the first one we have seen this creature before. One non-demon. We can't ignore this. Whatever this is, I'm thinking we should know what this is. "

Mira sighed, lowering her woldo. "Fine. Just keep it away from Rumi."

Rumi was already kneeling nearby, one hand pressed to her arm where the creature's claws had struck. Blood seeped between her fingers, darker than normal. "I'm fine," she rasped when Mira knelt beside her. "It barely grazed me."

"You're bleeding through your sleeve," Mira countered. "Don't move." She ripped a strip from her shirt and tied it tightly around Rumi's shoulder, pressing down to slow the bleeding. "We're leaving. Now."

"Agreed," Zoey said quickly. "Before anything else decides to crawl out of the dark."

Rumi nodded, pushing herself upright. Her face was pale under the dim flashlight beams, sweat streaking the dirt and blood on her skin. She raised her hand, her saingeom flickering briefly before dissolving into starlight. "Hold on to me," she said softly. Her voice trembled in a way Mira didn't like.

Zoey grabbed her hand. Mira took the other, steadying her.

The air around them shifted, light bending, space collapsing in on itself. The sound of the forest vanished, replaced by a deep rushing hum as if they were being pulled through water. Then came the snap, light exploding outward, and they disappeared, leaving behind a pink smoke.

Huntrix Penthouse

They landed hard on the penthouse floor. The lights were dim, the city skyline stretching beyond the windows. For a moment, none of them moved.

Suddenly, Rumi fell, her knees hit the floor hard, the impact echoing through the room. The pink smoke of her teleport shimmered briefly around her, then vanished, leaving behind only the smell of rain, blood, and ozone. Her hands splayed against the cold marble, trembling. 

"Rumi!" Mira dropped beside her, hands on her shoulders. "Hey, hey, look at me."

Rumi tried to lift her head, but the effort drained what little strength she had left. Sweat beaded at her temples, her breath were shallow and uneven. Then Zoey saw the dark red streak sliding from Rumi’s nose, cutting a line down to her lip.

Her heart skipped. “Mira...her nose. She’s bleeding.” Mira looked down and froze. “What the hell?” She reached for Rumi’s chin, tilting her face toward the light. The blood was real, not a cut from battle.

Rumi tried, but her eyelids fluttered. "I… I just need a second," she whispered.

Mira slipped her arm under Rumi's shoulders and lifted her carefully. "She's done for the night," she said. "Help me get her to her room."

Together, they half-carried her down the hall, Rumi barely conscious, her feet dragging. “Mira, she's never gotten a nosebleed after teleporting,” Zoey said quietly, worry taking over her voice. “She has never been drained like this. We need...”

"Let's take care of Rumi first," Mira said, as she looked over at Rumi, blood slowly dripping from her nose.

The lights of the penthouse flickered softly against the window glass, reflecting the sheen of sweat on Rumi's skin. When they reached her room, Mira placed her on the bed. The second her body met the sheets, she exhaled sharply, muscles going slack. Zoey rushed to the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit, while Mira sat on the edge of the mattress, brushing the hair from Rumi’s forehead. Zoey ran back into the room, with the first aid kit from the bathroom, giving it to Mira.

“Hey,” Mira whispered, forcing calm into her voice. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

Rumi’s lips parted, but only a faint sound escaped, a half-formed word swallowed by exhaustion. A drop of blood slipped from her nose to her collarbone. Mira wiped it away with the back of her wrist, her own pulse racing. She then focused on the creature's bite mark. When Mira peeled back the torn fabric around Rumi's shoulder, the wound came into view. The bite was deep, where it was angry crescents of torn flesh surrounded by bruised skin already darkening to purple. The edges pulsed faintly with a reddish glow, like embers buried beneath ash. Rumi winced when the air touched it.

"Don't move," Mira murmured.

She reached for the first-aid kit Zoey had dropped on the nightstand, snapping it open with hands that trembled only slightly. Alcohol, gauze, antiseptic. It was usual for them to have medkits, especially after they would fight demons. The wound didn't look like any demon mark she'd seen before. It looked alive.

Mira soaked a cotton pad in alcohol and pressed it gently against the bite. The hiss of the liquid meeting open flesh made Rumi flinch and suck in a breath through her teeth.

"Sorry," Mira whispered, voice tight. "I know it stings."

"It's fine," Rumi breathed, but her tone cracked halfway through. Her knuckles whitened where she gripped the sheets. Mira dabbed again, her movements precise but tender. The blood that welled up was darker than normal, almost black at its edges, clinging thickly to the gauze. She swapped pads quickly, refusing to let her mind dwell on it. When Mira wrapped the bandage around Rumi's shoulder, her hands lingered a moment longer than necessary, smoothing the fabric, making sure it was tight enough to hold. The smell of antiseptic hung between them, sharp and clean, but beneath it Mira could still smell the blood and what was left of the creature she had killed to save Rumi.

Zoey stood near the doorway, arms folded, her face pale in the dim light. "How bad is it?" she asked quietly. Mira didn't look up. "Bad enough I don't like it."

Zoey bit her lip as she stared at the bandaged shoulder. "Mira… maybe we should call Celine."

Mira's hands froze. Slowly, she looked up at her. "No."

Zoey frowned. "Mira. Whatever that creature was, it wasn't a demon. She has never gotten a nosebleed, and she never gets that tired and drained after teleporting. Until that thing bit her. Whatever that thing was… it's doing something to her."

"Zoey, remember what she did? She's the one who made Rumi hide her patterns from us," Mira snapped, voice low but sharp as steel. "She's the reason we didn't know what was happening before. She's the reason Rumi was alone in this."

Zoey hesitated, crossing her arms. "I know that, but, Mira, what if she's the only one who can help? She knows more about demons and… whatever this thing is than either of us."

Mira's voice rose, anger breaking through the worry. "And what, you think Celine's the answer? “Celine trained us to hate anything with patterns!” Mira’s voice rose now, the control slipping. “To kill first, ask never. She made Rumi believe that being herself meant being a threat! And now you want to hand her over to the same woman who taught us to fear her? Celine wasn't there, but we pointed our weapons at her because of what we were taught to do. Even when she pleaded with us, we still held them at her. Because of what Celine drilled into us! That anything with markings was dangerous. That demons can't be trusted, can't feel. She turned us into her soldiers and made Rumi hide what she was. You really think I'm letting her near her again?"

Zoey pressed on, quieter now. “We know everything to know about demons, because of Celine, but this is different. You know it. But, what if Celine knows what's happening to Rumi? She was a Hunter before us. What if she knows what that creature was? What if she knows how to help Rumi?”

The air between them went heavy. The only sound was Rumi's ragged breathing.

Finally, Rumi spoke; it was quiet, but clear. "Stop."

Both Mira and Zoey turned to her. Rumi's eyes were open now, tired but steady. "You're both right," she murmured. "Celine… she made me hide my patterns. She said you wouldn't understand. And for a long time, I believed her."

She paused, swallowing hard. "But I also know you're trying to protect me. I get it. I understand both sides. I'm just… not ready to talk to her yet."

Zoey took a hesitant step forward. "Rumi... Celine knows much more about demons than we do. Whatever that creature did, whatever's happening to you. We have to know."

Rumi shook her head. "I know Zoey... If it gets worse… if this doesn't go away… then call her." Her eyes flicked from one to the other, soft but firm. "Until then, please. Just...don't."

Mira's voice softened, her anger fading into weary resolve. "Alright. We won't. Not unless we have to."

Zoey exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "Okay. But if it gets bad, I'm dialing her myself."

Rumi gave a weak nod. "Deal."

Mira sat on the edge of the bed, hand brushing Rumi's hair away from her face. "Rest now. We'll figure this out in the morning." Rumi's breathing slowed, her eyes closing as exhaustion overtook her. Mira leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Rumi’s forehead and whispered against her skin. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.” Mira and Zoey stayed a moment longer and were silent, watching over her like guardians, like knights of a king, as the moonlight through the window caught the faint shimmer of the markings beneath her bandages. 

Mira continued to sit by Rumi's her hand still resting against Rumi’s. Zoey starts to walk away to go back to her room when Mira calls her, Zoey stops and looks at Mira, who was still looking at Rumi, but didn’t look up at Zoey. “If we do call Celine,” she said, her tone low, full of fire, “I’m staying by her side. The entire time. Celine doesn’t get to touch her. Doesn’t get to treat her like an object meant to be fixed again.” She looked down at Rumi’s sleeping face, her voice breaking as she added, “Whatever’s happening to her, I’m not losing her again.”

Chapter Text

Mira woke to the sound of Rumi's breathing.

It came in shallow, uneven bursts, the kind that scraped the air and made every inhale sound like it cost her something. For a moment, Mira didn't remember where she was, only that the light was dim and the air heavy with heat. Then her eyes adjusted. Rumi's room. The faint glow of the city filtered through the curtains, slicing the dark into soft gray lines that fell across the bed.

Mira had fallen asleep sitting upright in the chair beside her, chin resting on her fist, the blanket she'd thrown over her shoulders hours ago half-slipped to the floor. Her body ached from stillness, but none of that mattered once she looked at Rumi.

The fever hadn't broken.

Rumi lay curled beneath the sheets, her hair sticking to her temples, her lips pale and dry. Her skin almost translucent against the white sheets. The fever had drained every trace of color from her face, leaving her lips pale, her cheeks hollow. Mira could see the faint shimmer of her patterns glowing subtly beneath her skin. Normally they were transluscent, but the fever's pallor turned them into living veins of light.

Beads of sweat gathered at the curve of her neck and slid down to the hollow of her throat. The room smelled faintly of metal and rain plus the scent of her own blood still lingering in the air.

Mira reached out, brushing the damp strands of hair from Rumi's face. Her skin burned against her fingertips.

"Rumi…" she murmured.

A soft, raw sound escaped Rumi's throat, which was like a half sigh, half pain. Her eyes fluttered open for just a moment, unfocused and distant, before they shut again. Mira's chest tightened. She dipped the towel in the bowl of cool water by the nightstand and wrung it out until droplets fell onto her jeans. She pressed it gently to Rumi's forehead, but within minutes, the cloth turned warm again.

Mira switched it out, again and again. She lost count of how many times.

By late afternoon, the fever was still raging. Rumi tossed weakly beneath the sheets, her breath catching like she was fighting invisible currents in her dreams. Her fingers clenched around the blanket, then went still.

Zoey had come by twice; first with soup, then with ice water. Both of which had gone untouched. Now, as the sun sank into the horizon, Zoey stood by the doorway again, watching Mira tend to Rumi in silence. The fading light washed the room in bruised gold. Zoey stood by the doorway again, her face drawn and pale.

"She's still hot?" she asked quietly.

"Burning," Mira said without looking up. Her voice was steady, but her hand trembled as she replaced the towel. "It's like her body's fighting itself."

Zoey hesitated, shifting her weight. "Maybe… maybe we should call Celine."

The words cut through the room like glass.

Mira's eyes flicked up, sharp. "No."

"Mira…"

"I said no." Mira's voice dropped, quiet but cold. "We can handle this."

Zoey crossed her arms. "Handle it how? Watching her burn? She's been like this all day." Mira stood then, the chair scraping softly against the floor. The tension in her shoulders looked ready to snap. "You still think Celine's the answer?"

"I think she might be the only one who knows what the hell's happening!" Zoey shot back, her voice cracking with the effort to stay calm. "That thing that bit her wasn't a demon. You saw it. I saw it. It bled. It didn't disappear how a demon would. She's been like this ever since. If someone knows what that thing was…"

"It's not her," Mira said, cutting her off. Her tone was sharp enough to hurt. "Celine's not touching her again."

Zoey's jaw clenched. "You're still holding on to that?"

"Yes," Mira snapped. "Because she's the reason Rumi learned to hide what she is. She made her believe her patterns were a mistake. She made her think that being born wrong meant she was a mistake. I'm not giving her another reason to look at Rumi like she's broken."

Zoey exhaled through her nose, trying to keep her own voice from shaking. "Mira… I know what Celine did. I hate it too. But what if this…whatever this is…is doing something to her? Are you really willing to risk that just because you can't forgive her?"

The silence between them was a physical thing. The only sound was Rumi's unsteady breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioner fighting to keep up with the heat radiating from her body.

Then, from the bed, a voice broke through the tension, cracked and hoarse.

"Stop."

Both Mira and Zoey turned. Rumi's eyes were open now, fever, her eyes were bright and glassy, pupils too wide. She looked like she'd been dragged back from some burning dream. Her voice was weak but clear enough to cut through both of them.

"Call her."

Mira froze. "Rumi…"

"Call Celine," she repeated, forcing each word. She tried to sit up, but the movement sent her into a shiver that rippled down her arms. "I know we promised we wouldn't… after what happened… after everything I told you. But if anyone knows what bit me… it's her." Mira knelt beside the bed, cupping Rumi's hand in both of hers. Her voice softened, trembling with something fragile. "Are you sure?"

Rumi's lips curved in a faint, tired smile. "Look at me, Mira. I'm not getting any better. Zoey's right. You know she is. Whatever that thing was, it wasn't a demon. And if it's not demon…" She swallowed hard, eyes unfocused. "Then Celine might know what it is."

She hesitated, as if the next words took everything left in her. "And I know how much you hate her, Mira. I do. But I trust you. I need you to trust me on this."

Mira stared at her, at the sweat-slicked strands of hair, the pale sheen of her skin, the fever trembling through her and felt the fight drain out of her. She bowed her head, a quiet exhale slipping from her lips.

"Alright," she said softly. "We'll call her."

She turned toward Zoey, voice hoarse but firm. "Call Celine."

Zoey nodded once and left the room, her phone already in hand. The sound of her voice drifted through the hall, it was low, urgent, trembling between control and fear. Mira followed her out, standing just behind the doorway, listening.

"Celine? It's Zoey," she said. A pause. "I know its been a while since we talked, but I'm guessing you know why. But something's wrong. It's Rumi. We were out in the forest north of Seoul, following up on the missing-persons reports, you know, the ones that mentioned people disappearing near the old trails. We thought it might've been demon-related." Zoey continued, "We found something else there. A creature. It stood on two legs, like it was a human at first. But this creature was something else. Huge, black fur, golden eyes, sharp teeth. It was fast, too strong. Mira killed it after it bit her, but…" she hesitated, swallowing hard, "It didn't vanish like how a demon would. It bled. The body stayed. Real blood. We brought Rumi back to the penthouse. She's been burning up all day. It's not breaking. It's not normal. She's barely conscious. Mira's been with her all day."

There was a long silence on the other end. Then Zoey nodded, even though Celine couldn't see her. "Okay. Jeju to Seoul. Tonight. Please hurry."

She ended the call and leaned against the wall, running a shaking hand through her hair.

Mira's voice came out rough. "What did she say?"

"She's catching the next flight out of Jeju. Should be here in a few hours." Zoey hesitated, looking at Mira's face before adding, "She thinks she knows what it is. And she said it's not demon-related."

Mira frowned, her jaw tightening. "Then what is it?"

Zoey shook her head. "She wouldn't say. Just that we shouldn't move Rumi, and to keep her cool. Whatever's happening… she sounded like she's heard of it before."

Mira's chest ached with unease. She turned back toward the door, where the faint lamplight flickered against Rumi's silhouette.

Inside, Rumi's breathing came slower now, each inhale dragging through her throat. The sheets clung to her skin. Mira could feel the heat from the doorway, as if the fever itself had turned the air molten.

She sat back down beside her, dipping the towel again and laying it gently across Rumi's forehead. The skin beneath her palm was scorching.

"Celine's coming," Mira whispered. "Just hold on a little longer, okay?"

Rumi stirred faintly, her lips parting. Her voice was barely audible, more breath than sound. "Feels… like fire."

Mira's heart twisted. "I know. But you're not alone."

Rumi's eyes fluttered open, unfocused, searching for her. "You'll stay?"

"Always," Mira said.

She stayed by her side as the hours bled into the night. The fever made the air shimmer, casting faint mirages across the walls, like heat rising from pavement in summer. At one point, Rumi's body jerked, her back arching as she gasped. Mira caught her, pressing a hand to her chest until the tremor eased.

The fever burned higher, then fell into sudden chills. Rumi shivered violently, teeth chattering, her skin turning cold and clammy. Mira wrapped her in blankets, murmuring quiet reassurances she wasn't sure Rumi could hear.

When the moon rose high, pale and watchful beyond the curtains, Rumi finally went still. Her breathing steadied, not better, but calmer.

Mira stayed there, Zoey stayed too. She sat on the chair beside the bed while Mira stepped out to wash her face, her hands still trembling from the long day. When Mira returned, she looked ready to collapse. Zoey caught her arm before she could sit back down.

"Hey," Zoey whispered. "You've been up since yesterday. Go lie down. I'll watch her for a bit."

"I'm fine," Mira muttered, but her voice was frayed, thin.

Zoey gave her a look that left no room for argument. "You're running on fumes. Go. If she wakes up, I'll call you. Promise. Its okay if you just sleep for an hour, she'll still be here."

When Mira finally stepped out, the room seemed to breathe differently, quieter, almost gentler. Zoey sat close, replacing the damp towel on Rumi's forehead. Every so often, she dabbed the towel against Rumi's temple, counting her breaths between pauses, whispering nonsense things like she used to before shows: You're okay. You're gonna be okay. Just rest. We've got you.

When Mira returned later, her eyes were shadowed but steadier. She carried two mugs of coffee neither of them would finish. "My turn," she said quietly, and Zoey nodded, dragging herself to the couch in the corner. She curled up under a spare blanket and was asleep within minutes.

Mira took the chair again. The room was darker now, the only light from the skyline, a faint pulse of blue and gold cutting through the curtains. Rumi's skin shimmered faintly beneath the fever, her veins pulsing like threads of molten glass. Mira sat with her elbows on her knees, towel forgotten in her hands. Every few minutes, she would reach out and touch Rumi's wrist, counting the beats, whispering her name.

Hours blurred. At some point, Zoey woke and found Mira still there, head bowed, eyes closed but not sleeping. She didn't speak, just traded places again.

The clock read past three when Zoey jolted awake to a sound of Rumi gasping, whispering something broken and fevered. Mira was already at her side, holding her upright as Rumi shivered violently. Together they steadied her, Mira murmuring close to her ear, Zoey replacing the cloth on her forehead with a fresh one from the sink. The two moved in rhythm, practiced without ever needing to speak.

By dawn, both were exhausted, slumped in opposite chairs, the world outside turning pale gray. The fever had dulled but not vanished. Rumi slept fitfully, her breaths softer now.

Zoey checked her phone. "Celine's flight landed an hour ago," she whispered.

Mira nodded, eyes fixed on Rumi's still form. "Then she's on her way."

Minutes later, Zoey's phone buzzed softly on the nightstand. She picked it up, blinking through exhaustion at the message on the screen.

"It's Celine," she said. Her voice was small, almost disbelieving. "She's here. Just pulled up to the penthouse."

Mira's head lifted at once. For a heartbeat, she didn't move, she just watched Rumi's sleeping face. Then she pushed herself up slowly, the chair creaking under her.

"I'll go meet her."

Zoey stood too, setting the phone down. "Go. I've got Rumi." She gave a small nod before turning down the dim hall, the soft hum of the elevator reaching her through the stillness. The first light of morning touched the marble floor as she walked, every step echoing faintly like the city's heartbeat.

And when the elevator doors opened with a quiet chime, Mira was already there—waiting.

Celine's Arrival

The clock's quiet tick filled the apartment like a heartbeat. Mira stood in front of the elevator, arms folded, watching the numbers descend. Each metallic chime seemed louder than it should have been. She hadn't moved from that spot since Zoey's call hours ago.

When the elevator doors slid open, Celine stood there, wearing a coat, that was half-buttoned, holding onto a small carry-on trailing behind her. The wheels clicked softly against the tile as she stepped out. Her hair was damp from rain, her expression composed in the way only she could manage, but her eyes flicked instantly toward Mira.

"Mira."

Mira's jaw tightened. "Celine."

For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The years between them hung heavy in that silence. Then Celine adjusted her grip on the suitcase handle.

"Where is she?"

Mira straightened. "Down the hall," she said, then after a pause, "She's been like this since morning."

Celine nodded once and began walking, the small suitcase following behind her with a muted rattle. Mira followed close, silent but watchful of every step Celine made, her eyes never leaving Celine's back.

When they reached Rumi's door, Mira stopped with her hand on the knob. She didn't open it yet.

"You tell me what you're going to do before you touch her," Mira said. Her voice didn't rise, but the steel in it was unmistakable. "If you even think about laying a hand on her, you tell me first. I don't care if it's for a pulse check or a bandage. You say it aloud. You look at me. You don't move without my say."

Celine regarded her for a long moment. The faintest flicker of something crossed her expression; it looked like guilt, before she nodded. "I'm here to help her, Mira," she said softly. "You want to protect her. So do I. Let's do that together."

"Good," Mira replied. "Then we understand each other."

The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and rain. Zoey sat on the edge of the bed beside Rumi, who lay half-conscious, her skin pale and shining with fever. The sheets clung to her from sweat, her breathing shallow but steady. Rumi lay motionless on the bed, her skin flushed and slick with perspiration, hair plastered against her temples. The blankets had been kicked halfway off. Her breaths came shallow, uneven.

Celine crossed the threshold without hesitation, her expression softening as she took in the sight of her former student. "Oh, Rumi…" she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Mira lingered by the wall, arms crossed, watching every move. She saw Zoey run out of the room.

Celine knelt beside the bed, brushing her fingers over Rumi's wrist, feeling the faint pulse beneath her skin. Her eyes tracked the sheen of sweat across her brow, the trembling of her chest with each breath. She looked older in that moment, not in her face, but in her weariness.

"How long has her temperature been like this?"

"Since morning," Mira answered. "It hasn't dropped once." Celine nodded, then gently pressed her palm over Rumi's chest. The heat coming off her was almost unnatural, radiating through the blanket. She looked at Rumi; her skin had gone pale, so pale that the faint iridescent shimmer of her patterns began to show beneath it, like light shining through glass.

Mira heard footsteps behind her and saw Zoey, who was holding a plastic bag. Zoey calls Celine, who turns to look at her and sees the bag. Inside, something heavy shifted, a dark shape, wrapped in cloth. "We kept this." Celine's gaze sharpened.

"It's the thing that bit Rumi. It didn't disappear like how a normal demon would, so I figured to take the head and figure out what it is."

Zoey peeled the plastic back enough to reveal what was inside. The severed head of the creature stared back at them with clouded golden eyes. Mira's jaw tensed. Even cold, even dead, it didn't look human. Celine set her luggage down and leaned closer, studying it with a faint frown. There was no shock in her expression, but it was recognition.

She exhaled slowly. "I was afraid of that."

Zoey blinked. "You've seen it before?" Celine didn't answer right away. Instead, she turned to Rumi. "Where was she bitten?"

Mira hesitated, then pointed to the left shoulder. "Here." Celine reached gently for the edge of the blanket. "May I?"

Mira's silence was answer enough. Celine carefully folded the blanket down to reveal the wrapped bandage. Her fingers hovered above it for a heartbeat before she looked at Mira. "I'm going to remove it." Mira gave a single, stiff nod.

Celine unwrapped the bandage slowly. The gauze came away in layers until the bite mark was bare to the lamplight. Where the bite was supposed to be was gone. The flesh beneath was smooth, pale, and marked only by a faint scar that resembled the bite mark was now in its place.

Zoey's breath hitched. "The bite… It healed."

Mira stepped forward, disbelief twisting her expression. "That's impossible, Zoey, you saw it last night, it was bleeding. I took care of it myself."

Celine's expression didn't change. She studied it with the same calm precision as before, fingertips brushing the edge of the scar as though confirming something she already knew.

Mira caught the look in her eyes, the flicker of understanding she didn't voice. Her stomach dropped. "You know what this is, don't you?"

Celine met her eyes, calm but grave. "You're right," she said softly. "Something is happening to Rumi. Something no human or anyone should ever have to go through." Zoey's voice was a whisper. "Then tell us, please." Celine looked between them, then at Rumi's still, fevered body.

"Not yet." She tells them

Mira's eyes narrowed. "You're stalling."

"When the fever breaks around midnight, she needs to be awake. She deserves to hear it too… so she knows what's happening to her. So once she wakes up, let me know."

"You've seen this before," Mira pressed.

Celine hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Once. A long time ago. A friend of mine… when I was still a Hunter. He was already one when I met him, and he showed me how he would deal with this, the before, during, and after. I thought I'd never see it again."

Her voice softened, almost breaking on the last word. "I never wanted to. Thought it wouldn't happen to her."

Silence settled again. Only the faint sound of Rumi's breathing filled the room.

Celine rose to her feet, glancing toward the window where the storm clouds were breaking apart, moonlight spilling through in weak silver lines. "I know why you haven't contacted me these past months," she said quietly. "And you were right not to. What I did, keeping Rumi's truth from you, was wrong."

Mira's voice was tight. "You should've told us yourself. You were the one who trained us."

"I should have," Celine agreed. "But I made a promise to Mi-yeong that I would protect her. I thought hiding her truth was protection... I was wrong." She looked back at Rumi, her voice softening. "I'm not here to fix her this time. I'm here to help her."

The room went quiet. Mira's anger didn't vanish, but it bent under the weight of exhaustion. She glanced at Zoey, who gave her a small nod.

"Zoey," Mira said, her voice steady. "Take Celine to her old room."

Zoey hesitated, then nodded again, gesturing for Celine to follow. The two women slipped out, the soft click of the door closing behind them, leaving the room in silence.

Mira sat down beside Rumi's bed, the mattress sinking under her weight. The city lights from beyond the window painted faint gold and blue lines across the sheets, flickering over Rumi's still face. Her breathing was steady now, quieter, but the heat still radiated from her skin.

For a long moment, Mira just sat there, watching her, listening to the faint rise and fall of her chest.

Then her gaze drifted to Rumi's shoulder.

The bandage lay folded back, the scar beneath faint and pale against her skin. It was shaped like the crescent of a moon, so small, so deceptively harmless that it almost didn't seem real.

Mira hesitated, her hand hovering above it. The warmth from Rumi's skin reached her palm even from inches away. She could feel the heat through the air, a pulse that wasn't quite fever, wasn't quite human either.

Her throat tightened. Slowly, she lowered her hand until her fingertips brushed the edge of the scar.

The skin was cool now, smooth where torn flesh had been hours ago. But beneath that calm surface, she could feel something faint, like the echo of movement, something alive and stirring deep below.

She didn't flinch. She just let her hand rest there, fingers tracing the shape gently, as if memorizing it.

She whispered, voice barely a breath. "I don't care what this thing did to you. You're still you. You are still my Rumi."

Her thumb brushed one last time over the mark before she pulled the blanket back up, covering it. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead lightly against the edge of the bed.

Outside, the moon had risen higher, its reflection silvering the glass. The faint glow touched the scar once more, just for a second, a subtle shimmer beneath the blanket. It then faded like a breath drawn back into the dark.

Mira grabbed Rumi's hand, feeling faint warmth against her hand, and whispered again, quieter this time:

"Whatever this is… We'll face it together."

Chapter Text

The rain had stopped, but the city beyond the penthouse windows glowed like embers, its light flickering against the glass in restless patterns. The clock ticked once, then again. It was past midnight when Rumi stirred.

The fever that had held her captive for hours broke like a storm, finally giving way to stillness. Sweat cooled along her temples, her breaths slow but even. For the first time since the bite, her body wasn't burning from the inside out. The weight pressing down on her chest lifted, leaving behind an aching lightness, fragile but real.

Moonlight spilled through the half-drawn curtains, silvering the edges of the room. It cast soft light across Mira, who had fallen asleep beside the bed, her head resting on her folded arms. The faint rise and fall of her shoulders was the only sign she hadn't collapsed entirely from exhaustion. Even in sleep, her fingers were curled toward Rumi, like she'd refused to let go even after her body gave in.

Rumi blinked slowly, adjusting to the quiet hum of the city outside. The storm had ended hours ago, but the faint smell of rain still lingered. She could hear the clock ticking faintly on the wall, it was steady, rhythmic, grounding.

"Mira…" Her voice was a whisper, rough with dryness.

Mira shifted at once, instinct cutting through fatigue. Her eyes opened, it was sharp and alert. When she saw Rumi sitting up, her breath caught. "Rumi?"

Rumi pushed herself upright, wincing faintly as the bandage around her shoulder tugged. The sheets clung damply to her skin before falling away. The air against her body felt cold, clean, alive.

"Hey," Mira said quickly, leaning forward. "You shouldn't move yet."

But she stopped when she touched Rumi's skin, it wasn't burning. It was cool. Steady. Normal. Mira's eyes widened, disbelief softening into relief. "You… you don't have a fever anymore." Mira exhaled shakily, her shoulders dropping as though a weight she'd carried for hours finally fell away. "Thank god," she murmured. Her hand lingered against Rumi's arm, tracing warmth where there had once been fire.

The silence between them settled into something heavy but gentle. Mira didn't pull her hand away. For a moment, she just looked at her, at the faint color returning to Rumi's cheeks, at the small tremor of her breath. It was the kind of fragile peace Mira knew could vanish in seconds.

Rumi's eyes wandered around the dim room. The nightstand lamp threw a halo of amber light across the floor. Her sword, saingeom, rested on the desk, its faint starlit shimmer now dormant. "Where's Zoey?" she asked.

"In the living room," Mira said, still watching her carefully. "She's been keeping an eye on things. Didn't want to sleep until your fever broke."

Rumi nodded faintly, her brow furrowing. "And Celine?"

Mira hesitated. The pause said more than the words that followed. "She's here too."

Rumi's voice sharpened with confusion. "She actually came?"

Mira nodded and softly. "Celine came right away when we called" Rumi's lips parted, but no sound came out. Mira's voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "I think she knows, Rumi. About what's happening to you. About that creature." Something flickered across Rumi's face, saw fear and then recognition. "You think, or you know?"

"I saw it in her eyes, before she told us herself." Mira's tone was certain now. "When Zoey showed her the head. The way she looked at the bite your shoulder… she wasn't surprised."

"And there's something else."

Rumi tilted her head. "What?"

"The bite." Mira's gaze flicked toward Rumi's shoulder. "It healed too fast."

Rumi blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

Mira stood and reached for the lamp, turning the light up just enough to reveal the faint outline beneath the bandage. "I cleaned and wrapped it when we got home right? It was deep, bad enough to need stitches. But when Celine wanted to see the bite…" She shook her head slowly. "The wound was almost gone. Like it never happened. All there is… is a scar."

Rumi's heartbeat quickened. "That's impossible."

"Yeah," Mira said quietly. "That's what I thought too." She stepped aside, gesturing toward the mirror across the room. "See for yourself." Rumi hesitated, then slid her legs off the bed. The floor was cold against her bare feet. Mira moved closer, steadying her arm as she stood. Together, they crossed the room, the faint hum of the city filling the silence between them. Rumi stopped in front of the mirror, her reflection pale and tired, her purple hair tangled. She lifted the edge of the bandage slowly.

The wound was gone.

In its place was a scar, it was faint, silver, running from her collarbone down to the curve of her shoulder. It shimmered faintly under the light, like something that wasn't entirely human had stitched itself beneath her skin. Rumi stared, breath caught somewhere in her throat. The edges weren't raw, no bruising, no sign of infection. Just smooth skin and that eerie, pale scar.

"See what I mean?" Mira said softly behind her. Her reflection appeared beside Rumi's in the mirror, eyes narrowed as she examined the mark. "You were torn open, Rumi. I saw it and you felt it. There's no way that should've healed overnight."

Rumi traced the scar with her fingertips, feeling the faint warmth beneath it, a slow, steady pulse that didn't quite belong to her heartbeat. "It doesn't hurt," she whispered.

"That's the creepy part," Mira replied. Her voice was quiet, almost reverent, but her brow furrowed. "It's like whatever bit you… gave you something."

Rumi looked up, meeting Mira's reflection in the glass. "You think this is what Celine knows about?"

"She said she'd seen it before. Said she saw it happen to a friend of hers when she was still a Hunter" Mira exhaled, then added with a small, crooked grin, "Still, I'll give it this, creepy or not, that scar looks badass."

The smile faded almost as quickly as it came, replaced by the quiet weight of what came next. Mira stepped back toward the door, hand brushing against the handle. The air thickened between them, heavy with the unspoken. "She told me to let her know when you woke up," she said gently. "Said she wants all of us together; you, me, Zoey. She'll explain then."

"And you trust her?"

Mira didn't answer immediately. Her eyes lowered, lashes shadowing the sharp line of her face. "No," she said finally. "But I do trust you. And if you want answers… we'll hear her out. Together." Rumi lifted her gaze. Mira's eyes, tired but unyielding, met hers. There was something in them, a silent promise, the kind only made by people who had bled and survived together.

"Alright," Rumi murmured. "Let's go."

Mira's hand touched the handle, her knuckles pale under the light.

"Ready?" she asked softly.

Rumi's gaze lingered on her for a moment, the way Mira's jaw tightened when she said it, the way her eyes, usually sharp as steel, flickered with something softer. "Yeah," Rumi breathed. "I'm ready."

Mira turned the handle. The door opened with a low click. The hallway beyond was dim and quiet, washed in the cool blue light spilling in from the windows at the far end. The faint hum of the city bled through; cars, wind, distant thunder that hadn't yet decided to fade.

The air was cooler there, touched with the scent of rain and something else; the faint, metallic tinge of Celine's perfume, sharp and unmistakable. It mixed with the ozone still clinging to Rumi's skin from the teleport earlier, an unsettling harmony of scent and memory.

Rumi paused, steadying herself on the wall. Her shoulder ached beneath the bandage, but it was bearable. More than bearable. It was the silence she couldn't shake that thick, waiting quiet that felt like standing on the edge of something vast.

Mira's voice broke through it, low and even. "They're waiting for you."

Rumi nodded once. "Then let's not keep them waiting."

And together, they started down the hall, step by step, the echoes of their movements soft against the marble floor, until the faint murmur of voices reached them from the living room beyond. Zoey's anxious tone, Celine's calm one.

As they neared the doorway, Mira glanced sideways at Rumi, her expression unreadable. Rumi's heartbeat quickened, the faint thrum of something wild beneath her skin stirring again.

The living room light cast a pale glow into the corridor. Shadows shifted across the walls like something breathing.

Rumi met Mira's eyes, steadying herself with one last deep breath.

Living Room

The first thing they saw was Zoey. She'd been pacing, eyes darting between the window and the door, restless energy coiled tight beneath her skin. The moment she saw Rumi standing there, alive and on her feet, she froze and then she was moving.

"Rumi!"

Zoey sprinted across the room, her socks sliding slightly on the polished floor as she threw her arms around her. The impact was quick and full, the kind that stole Rumi's breath for a second. Rumi stumbled back half a step, then exhaled, arms instinctively wrapping around her friend.

Zoey's voice cracked against her shoulder. "You scared the hell out of me."

"I know," Rumi said softly. "I'm sorry."

Mira crossed her arms from where she stood behind them, though the faintest ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. "She's fine now. Fever's gone."

The small warmth between them faded as a new sound entered the room, the scrape of something heavy against glass.

Celine stood at the far end of the room, framed by the city lights behind her. The skyline glowed faintly through the rain-speckled windows, painting her in shades of silver and shadow. Her posture was composed, movements deliberate. But her eyes, sharp, assessing, and uncomfortably calm, followed Rumi with a kind of knowing weight. She was holding onto the bag Zoey gave her that contained the head. She then made her way to the couch.

Mira and Zoey led her to the couch, still holding onto her arms as if she might vanish. Celine waited until Rumi sat before she spoke.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I ran through a furnace," Rumi said. "But it's gone now. Whatever it was."

Mira's eyes flicked toward her. "The three of us are now here. Now tell us what's going on." Celine exhaled, moved to the table, and unwrapped the cloth bundle Zoey had brought. The creature's head rested on the wood like a shadow that refused to die. Its eyes were dull, but its presence made the air feel heavy again.

"This," she began, "isn't a demon. It's a werewolf."

The word hung there, but quiet but earth-shattering. Zoey's mouth fell open. "I'm sorry, what?"

Celine didn't flinch. "Rumi was bitten by a werewolf last night and soon she will transform into one."

Rumi's breath caught. Mira stiffened beside her.

Celine's eyes softened, her voice lowering as memory replaced the present. ""I've seen this before. Years ago, during a solo mission back when I was a Hunter like you three. I met someone like this creature, but he was a human. His name was Eun-hyuk. I was injured by a demon and he saved my life, took me in, and helped me with my injuries."

Celine's voice lowered, almost reverent.

"As I healed, I was curious," she admitted softly. "Curious about what he was, how a human like him could live with a creature like that inside him and still stay himself. And he showed me how What it meant to be one of them; the hunger, the rage, the pain of every full moon. How the bite changes you piece by piece until the body stops fighting and starts becoming. He told me of the symptoms that would lead to the full moon. He said if you fight it, the wolf fights back twice as hard. But if you accept it… you can sometimes keep your mind. Sometimes."

She paused, her voice quieter now. "He said the first full moon after the bite is the worst. It's the test. The moment the human either dies fighting it or survives by surrendering to it."

Rumi's fingers tightened around the blanket. "What happened to him?" she asked.

Celine hesitated, a shadow passing through her eyes. "He saved me. On a hunt that went wrong, when the demon we were after nearly killed us both. He transformed to protect me and never came back. When the Sisters found what was left, they burned it and called it a mercy."

Her voice trembled but steadied again. "He made me promise something that if I ever found another stray, another innocent person, cursed by the bite, I would help them and it looks like I have."

Mira scoffs at the word 'help', but Celine doesn't notice. Celine looked at Rumi then, eyes glinting in the half-light. "The fever, the scar, he told me it would happen. He said the body doesn't just heal after a bite. It rewrites itself."

Her gaze met Mira's. "That's what I'm trying to do for her." Celine's voice faded into the soft hum of the rain against glass.

For a moment, no one spoke. The city lights beyond the window burned low, their reflections trembling across the floor like embers.

Zoey looked at the head, and pointed at it, "This head… is this him?"

Celine shook her head slowly. "No. Eun-hyuk's gone. He died saving me from another demon months after that night. There are two kinds of werewolves: those who fight to keep their humanity, and those who chose hunger over humanity. The head belongs to a feral one, someone who gave up their humanity, who left their family behind, who let the beast take over for a life like this."

She looked at Rumi then, her eyes fierce, pleading. "And I won't let that happen to you. I will help you with this."

Mira broke the silence first, scoffing at the idea. "Help?" she said quietly, the word sharp and heavy. "You mean like what you did with Rumi's patterns? Is that how you call help?"

Celine blinked, caught off guard. "Mira… I…"

"You want to help her now? No." Mira stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking with each word. "You had years, Celine. Years. You could've helped her before any of this. You could've told us the truth instead of making her hide it. You could've trusted us to help her. But all you focused on was her patterns instead of the girl you were told to raise and protect."

Mira's tone softened for only a moment, grief breaking through the anger. "If you'd just told us, Celine… if you had trusted us with the truth from the beginning, we would've understood. We would've helped her. You could've told us when we became Hunters. She could've told us herself and we still would've stayed. We loved her. We still do. But you're the one who didn't believe in that, and made her keep her mouth shut."

Celine's expression softened, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. "I was trying to protect her…"

"Protect her?" Mira cut in. Her voice wavered, but it didn't lose its edge. "No," Mira said, her voice rising before she could stop it. "You were protecting yourself, your ideals. You didn't want anyone to see that a Hunter's daughter, the next generation of Hunters, the Honmoon's guardians had patterns. Maybe you didn't want the Hunters after us to know that one of their own was half the thing you trained us to kill."

She took a step forward, every word trembling with years she'd spent biting her tongue.

Zoey glanced between them, the air thick enough to suffocate. Celine's gaze dropped. "I know," she said softly. "And I've lived with that guilt every day since. I thought keeping her secret was keeping her safe. I was wrong."

Mira's jaw tightened, the fury giving way to something deeper, grief. "You taught us that our faults and fears must never be seen. You trained and told us anything with patterns was a threat; no heart, no soul, no feelings, no choice, but to die. And now you stand here, acting like you get to save her? You don't get to fix years of silence with one night of honesty."

"I'm not trying to fix it," Celine replied. "I'm trying to do right by her now." The words hung there, raw and real. Rumi looked between them, her breathing steady but shallow, exhaustion clinging to her voice when she finally spoke. Zoey started to stand, ready to speak, but Rumi's hand caught her shoulder, steady and trembling at once. Zoey looked up, startled, and met Rumi's tired eyes.

"I got this," Rumi whispered, shaking her head softly.

"You're both right."

The room fell quiet. Mira froze mid-sentence, her anger caught in her throat. Rumi's gaze shifted between them, weary but clear. Mira turned to her, startled. "Rumi…"

"I know," Rumi said, eyes tired but resolute. "I know we can't forgive her for what she did. For making me hide my patterns. For making all of us afraid of the truth." She paused, glancing toward Celine. "But she knows more about this than we do. About what's happening to me."

Her fingers found Mira's hand, small and cold but steady. "If I'm really going through this… I need all the help I can get. Even hers."

Mira's breath caught. She looked down at their joined hands, then up at Rumi's eyes…those same eyes that had always glowed faintly when the moonlight hit them right, now shimmering with something deeper. Something untamed, but still hers.

The anger in Mira's chest softened, giving way to something heavy and reluctant but real. She exhaled slowly and nodded once.

"Alright," she said. "Celine stays. For just this week. She helps us through this, tells us everything we need to know, teaches us how to handle whatever's coming." She looked at Celine directly, her tone sharpening again. "But after that, you leave. You've done what you can, and we'll handle it from there. Understand?"

Celine met her gaze, and for the first time that night, she smiled, a quiet, sad thing that carried more sincerity than any apology could. "Understood," she said. "That's all I ever wanted, to make sure she wasn't alone."

Her eyes softened as she looked at Rumi. "Your mother made me promise to look after you, Rumi. To protect you if the world ever turned cruel. I failed that promise once. Now…" She turned toward Mira and Zoey. "…I pass it to you."

Celine continued, her tone steady but filled with something close to hope. "You three have something even stronger than what we had back then. You have trust. Loyalty. Love. With that, you can survive anything this curse throws at you."

She looked between them one last time. "That's how you'll get through this. Together."

The room fell into a fragile silence. The kind that wasn't empty, but full. Full of promises, unspoken forgiveness, and the quiet understanding that none of them were the same people they had been yesterday.

For a while, the room stayed quiet. The city beyond the window hummed faintly, lights scattering across the glass like distant constellations. Rumi's hand still rested in Mira's, warm now instead of fever-hot. Zoey leaned forward, elbows on her knees, watching Celine with the same look she used when she didn't want to be afraid but was anyway.

Rumi sat back slowly, her eyes lingering on the fading moonlight beyond the glass. The silence between them felt heavy, as if the air itself was waiting.

Zoey's voice broke the silence first, hesitant but heavy with the question that had been clawing at her since the night before.

"When we got back here after Rumi teleported us, she just collapsed. She got a nosebleed, and looked completely drained, like all her energy just vanished. That has never happened before until she was bitten. Was it because of the bite?"

Celine's eyes softened with a quiet, knowing ache. She drew a slow breath before answering.

"It was, because she is half demon. When she was bitten and the wolf passed its mark onto her, it started to rewrite itself and change who she was. We know demons are able to heal very quickly when they aren't harmed by your weapons, and her demon side felt the infection the moment it entered her body. It recognized it as an invader and did what demons do best, it fought back. The moment she teleported was where Rumi was the most vulnerable and what was passed to her took hold. Everytime her body resists it, it takes more out of her."

Rumi finally spoke, voice low and uncertain. "Those symptoms… what are they?"

Celine looked at her. There was no pity in her eyes, only understanding. "They happen the week you change, before you change. You'll go through five days of symptoms," she said quietly. "But, it's better if you see them for yourself," she said quietly. "Knowing too much before it happens only makes you fight it harder. And fighting it…" she paused, choosing her words carefully, "…makes it worse. "

Rumi frowned slightly, her fingers brushing the edge of the bandage on her shoulder. "So it's already started?"

Celine nodded once. "The first one, yes. You've already been through the fever. That's how it begins. The body burns as the wolf tries to take root and you went through it and you're still standing."

Zoey glanced at Mira, her voice barely above a whisper. "And the rest?"

Celine shook her head. "Each day will bring something new. You'll recognize it when it comes. I'll guide you through them, but it's something you have to experience to understand."

Rumi said nothing. Her gaze fell to the floor, the shadows beneath her eyes deepening. She looked tired, beyond tired.

Celine softened her tone. "You've already survived more than most would. Don't think about what's coming next. Just rest for now." Rumi lifted her eyes, meeting Celine's steady gaze. For a brief moment, she saw something in it, regret, maybe even sorrow, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Rumi stared at her for a long moment, then asked the question that had been building since she learned what bit her. "And the transformations? When do they happen?"

Celine met her eyes. "After you go through the symptoms, you go through the change, once a month on every full moon ." Her tone gentled. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the hum of the city outside. Rumi's hand tightened around the blanket, her knuckles whitening. "And… what's it like?" she asked finally. "The change."

Celine's eyes softened, though her answer came without hesitation. "Painful," she said. "I won't lie to you, Rumi. It will hurt more than anything you've felt before. It tears through every part of you; the body first, then the mind. It's the wolf forcing its way to the surface." She paused, voice lowering. "But it doesn't last forever. The pain passes. You survive it."

The girls were all silent on the couch. No one spoke for a long time. Then, one by one, they did:

Zoey first, "Five days of symptoms…"

Then Mira, "One transformation…"

Finally, Rumi, "Once a month, on every full moon…" She looked up at the head of the creature Celine had placed on the table. "I transform into a werewolf... I become like that creature."

Mira's gaze flicked from Rumi to the head Rumi is looking at, jaw tightening, as her fingers found Rumi's and held them like an anchor. "No," she said, her voice breaking through the quiet. "No, you won't, you won't be like that thing, because you still have us. Unlike that, they gave up on their life, but you won't. We will be there. I promise, I… we won't leave your side." she said quietly.

Zoey pulled out her phone. The faint blue light from the screen lit her face. Her eyes widened slightly. "The full moon's this week," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Celine nodded once, the motion slow, deliberate. "Good," she said. "That gives us time. Not much, but enough. We'll prepare, properly this time. So when it happens, she won't be alone."

Celine stood, straightening her jacket, approaching Rumi. "Now, you've been through enough for one night," she said, almost gently. "Get some sleep, Rumi. You'll need it."

Rumi nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Yeah… I know."

As Celine turned away, Mira and Zoey stayed close, quiet but watchful, the unspoken weight of what they'd just learned settling over all three of them like a shadow that would only grow darker with the coming moon.

Later

The door to Rumi's room clicked softly shut. Zoey lingered there for a moment, her hand still on the handle, watching the dim light spilling through the crack beneath the door. Rumi's breathing on the other side was faint, steady. Exhausted. With a quiet sigh, Zoey turned and walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

The penthouse was still, the kind of silence that hums between walls when everyone's too afraid to speak. In the kitchen, Celine sat at the table, her posture straight but her expression tired. A half-finished cup of tea steamed quietly beside her. Mira stood a few feet away, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on nothing.

Zoey entered quietly. "She's asleep," she said, voice low.

Mira didn't move. "Good."

Zoey sat across from Celine, the chair creaking slightly. "You were right," she said softly. "She's burned out." Mira pushed away from the wall, her arms still crossed. "I know why you didn't tell her," she said flatly.

Celine looked up at her, brow slightly furrowed. "Do you?"

"Because you think she'll fight it."

Celine didn't answer right away. Her eyes lowered to the surface of her cup. "Would you have told her?" she asked quietly.

Mira's jaw tightened. For a moment, she didn't respond. She thought back to the night they found Rumi's patterns, the fear in her eyes, the way she'd begged them not to leave. All that time she'd been hiding a part of herself, a part of her that they were never meant to see. Something she wanted to get rid of, but now she has accepted it.

"Before now, she fought to keep her patterns hidden, to stay hidden from us" Mira said finally, voice steady but heavy. "Fought to pretend she was fine, even when she wasn't. I get it now. You think if you tell her what's coming, she'll try to stop it."

Mira finally turned back, voice low but steady. "But it's just us now. You don't have to keep us in the dark. Tell us what's next, so we can help her."

Celine studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Tomorrow," she began slowly, "her senses will heighten. All of them. Sight, sound, smell, it'll come all at once. Overwhelming. Painful. She'll hear the city breathing, feel her own heartbeat in her teeth. It'll be like her body's trying to show her everything at once, whether she's ready or not."

Mira's brow furrowed, arms dropping to her sides. "How do we help her?"

"You help her anchor. The world's going to feel too loud, too bright. You keep her grounded, make her focus on you, on your voice, anything familiar. If she can hold onto that, she won't lose control."

Mira nodded slowly, taking it in. "And after that?"

Celine's eyes lowered to the floor. "One day at a time," she said. "Don't look too far ahead. Each symptom will pass, but every one takes something out of her. The best thing you can do is make sure you'll help her when it hits. Because the more she holds on to you both, the better her chances."

Mira glanced down the window, looking down at the crescent moon that was in the same level as their penthouse. "Then we won't let go," she said quietly.

Chapter Text

Rumi woke to quiet… at first. It was small things. The faint hum of the city far below. The clock ticking in the hallway. Mira's soft breathing in the chair beside her. Zoey shifting on the couch down the hall. Each sound, distant and harmless, started to press against her skull. The longer she lay there, the louder they became, until she could count every heartbeat that wasn't her own.

Her eyes opened. The light was soft, morning gray, but it struck like a blade. The air itself seemed sharp. Her pupils constricted so tight it hurt. Every thread on the blanket, every hair on her arm, every particle of dust floating through the light felt magnified, screaming for attention.

She sat up fast, clutching her temples. The sheets rasped against her skin, the sound unbearably harsh. Panic rose like fire. She opened her eyes again, desperately searching for an anchor. She noticed the small imperfections in the room, the peeling paint on the wall, the dust motes dancing lazily in the sunlight, and the way the couch sagged slightly in the middle. Each detail sparked another wave of sensation: the roughness of the fabric against her skin, the warmth of the sun contrasting with the coolness of the floor beneath her bare feet.

She stumbled out of bed and into the hallway. Each step was a storm; the creak of the floorboards, the whisper of her own clothes, the rush of air through vents above. She gasped and pressed her hands to her ears, thinking it would help. It didn't. The world flooded in through every other sense.

"Make it stop," she whispered, staggering out of bed. Her voice sounded too loud to her own ears, echoing like it was inside a cathedral. She pressed her palms to her ears and stumbled out into the hall.

The moment she entered the living room, it hit harder. The city noise flooded her: car horns, elevator gears, footsteps several floors below, someone laughing in a neighboring apartment. Every heartbeat in the building thudded faintly, a thousand overlapping rhythms. Her knees buckled. She collapsed to the floor, pressing her hands tighter against her ears, trembling.

"Stop, stop, stop!"

Her voice cracked. Her eyes watered as she gasped for air, light, and sound crashing into her from every direction. Her senses weren't just heightened… they were consuming her.

From the kitchen came the sound of movement, plates clattering, water running, each noise hitting her like a blow. Mira turned first. "Rumi?" Zoey looked up from the counter, eyes widening as she saw her. "Rumi!" They both ran to her at once.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

Rumi didn't answer. Her nails dug into her scalp, body shaking. "It's too loud," she choked. "Everything's… too…" The rest dissolved into a strangled cry.

Mira and Zoey ran to her side, both kneeling beside her. Mira reached for her shoulders, but Rumi flinched as if the touch burned. Zoey looked at Mira, panic rising in her chest. Mira remembered Celine's words from last night: Tomorrow, her senses will heighten. Anchor her, keep her grounded, make her focus on you, on your voice.

Mira took a slow breath, steadying her tone. "Rumi, look at us," she said gently but firmly. "Just me and Zoey. Don't listen to anything else."

Rumi's eyes flicked between them, unfocused. Her pupils trembled, struggling to adjust to the light. Her breathing came fast and uneven. Rumi tried. For every sound that faded, another one came, the buzz of lights, the sound of someone walking two floors up, the elevator cables humming. She flinched, crying out, but Mira stayed with her, grounding her with her voice.

"Hey. Look at me."

Every time a sound fades, another rises: the elevator, the hum of lights, a distant siren. She whimpers, but Mira's voice keeps cutting through the noise.

"Right here," Mira says softly. "Breathe with me." Zoey squeezes her hand. "You're safe. You're here. We're here."

For a long moment, Rumi's eyes darted everywhere, unfocused, then landed on Mira's. She tried to breathe with her. In. Out. Mira's heartbeat, steady and measured, became her anchor. The rest of the world bled into the background, muffled but still there. Her hands lowered slowly from her ears, trembling.

"That's it," Zoey murmured, voice soft as a hum. "You're doing great."

The sharp edges of the noise began to dull, though every sound still shimmered faintly at the edge of her hearing. She blinked through tears, body trembling from exhaustion. Mira and Zoey each took an arm and helped her to the couch. The cushions gave beneath her weight, grounding her back into the moment.

"How bad was it?" Mira asked after a long silence.

Rumi exhaled shakily. "I could hear everything," she said quietly. "The city. The water in the pipes. The way your hearts were beating. I could smell the coffee you made, the metal from the knives in the sink, the perfume you wore last night, Zoey. I could taste the air. It was like the whole world was inside my head, and I couldn't get out."

Zoey bit her lip, eyes glistening. "And now?"

"It's still there," Rumi whispered. "All of it. Just… further away in the background. Like echoes. But I can't shut it off."

A voice came softly from the hallway. "You won't need to."

Celine stood in the doorway, half-shadowed by the morning light. Her gaze softened when it fell on Rumi, trembling but awake. She approached quietly and sat beside her on the couch, her tone gentle, almost maternal.

"What you're feeling," she said, "is the wolf showing you how it experiences the world. The sounds, the scents, the details, it's overwhelming now because you're human. But this is how it survives. How it hunts. How it finds what it loves and protects it."

Rumi turned her head slightly, voice hoarse. "It felt like it was killing me."

Celine smiled faintly, sad but warm. "That's because you're still learning where the human ends and the wolf begins. But you'll learn. You always do."

She rested a hand lightly on Rumi's back. "You've survived worse, you'll get through this too." Rumi's shoulders loosened, just a little. Mira caught Celine's eye, wary but silent. Zoey brushed the hair from Rumi's face, whispering, "She's right. As much as it pains me to say it, she's right. You'll get through this."

Rumi leaned back into the couch, eyes half-lidded but calm now. The noise of the city still thrummed faintly beneath her hearing, cars, wind, distant voices, but it no longer clawed at her mind. It was just the world, vast and alive, and for the first time that morning, she wasn't afraid of it.

Outside, the sun had risen fully, gold light spilling across the penthouse floor. Inside, Rumi sat between Mira and Zoey, her breath slow and steady again. Celine lingered in the doorway for a moment longer before turning away, her expression unreadable, relieved, but carrying the quiet weight of knowing what was still to come.

Mira exhaled, dragging a hand through her hair before looking back at Rumi. "She's right," she said reluctantly. "As much as I hate to say it."

Zoey blinked, surprised. "Did you just…"

Rumi's lips twitched, eyes narrowed, "Did you just agree with Celine?"

Mira groaned. "Don't make me take it back."

Zoey grinned faintly. "Too late." For the first time that morning, Rumi laughed; weak, tired, but real. The sound was small, almost drowned by the city beyond the glass, yet it cut through the air like light after rain.

Afternoon

By late afternoon, the clouds moved in, sending rain onto the city. The air felt still again, but Rumi could sense everything moving beneath that stillness. Mira and Zoey had left to go buy snacks, and the moment they left, it overwhelmed her.

The vibration of the elevator several floors down, the hum of water in the pipes, the soft crackle of the air conditioner before it cycled off. Every sound was a thread tugging at her mind. She leaned forward against the dining table, palms flat against the cool surface, head bowed as she tried to breathe through it.

When the elevator doors opened, her body stiffened before the scent reached her: paper bags, roasted sesame oil, fried batter, and the faint sweetness of strawberry milk. Mira and Zoey's voices followed seconds later, soft and grounding, along with sounds of water dripping from their raincoats.

Zoey was the first to see her. "Rumi?" She set the bags down carefully, her tone light but edged with concern. "Hey. How are you holding up?"

Rumi lifted her head, her pupils sharp against the amber light. She hesitated before answering, voice low and strained. "When you left, everything became louder again. I can hear someone playing music six floors below, I can smell the coffee from the café across the street, and the detergent from the laundry room down the hall. The air conditioner's vibrating, it's off balance by a single screw." She gave a small, shaky laugh. "It's all too much. I can't shut it out."

Mira and Zoey exchanged a glance, the kind that carried both worry and an unspoken idea. Zoey nodded once, and Mira sighed, catching her meaning.

"Okay," Mira said quietly. "We think we might have a way to help you."

"How?"

Mira holds out her hand. "Just trust us, Ru."

She hesitated only a moment before taking it. Mira's hand was warm, grounding. They guided her toward the balcony doors. Rumi hesitated, glancing at them as Mira slid the glass open. The instant the air rushed in, it hit her like a tidal wave, a flood of sensations that crashed over every nerve.

She heard it all: The grind of tires on asphalt far below, the screech of a bus turning too sharply, a thousand conversations, layered one atop the other, laughter, arguments, music leaking from headphones, a baby crying two buildings away, the faint metallic scrape of a delivery truck's shutter door rolling up across the street and a pigeon's wings slicing the air as it swooped between towers.

Her breath caught as her sense of smell surged to meet it. The world was a flood of scent, a thousand notes intertwining until it was almost too rich to breathe. She could smell the burnt-sugar sweetness of a street vendor's roasted chestnuts, the bitterness of espresso drifting from a café two blocks away, and beneath it all, jasmine shampoo, Zoey's bubblegum hair serum, the faint mineral tang of her own sweat.

It all converged at once. Rumi staggered forward, bracing herself against the railing as her breath came quick and shallow. Her hands gripped the railing tighter. Zoey placed her hand on Rumi's back, soothing her, "We're right here, Ru. Just listen to our voices. No one else's. Just us."

Rumi squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her focus past the cacophony. Beneath the roar of the city, she began to pick them out, Mira and Zoey's voices, and where she began to calm down.

"Good," Mira whispered. "Now, I want you to think differently. This isn't a symptom, it's a skill. Like Celine said, the wolf is showing you what it can see, hear, and smell. It's giving you its world."

Rumi swallowed hard, nodding slightly. The wind whipped through her hair, pulling strands across her face. Her senses stretched outward, reaching. Mira stepped closer, her voice calm but firm. "Start small. Tell me what you smell, feel, and hear."

Rumi closed her eyes. The world opened around her like a heartbeat. "I smell…" She hesitated. "I can smell Zoey's shampoo from here, the jasmine she likes. And…" her nose twitched faintly, "…fried batter. Oil. From the bags you brought. Sesame, chili, rice flour. "Perfume. Old. Celine's. She must've passed by a few minutes ago. There's rainwater in her coat; she might have gone out for coffee. I can smell the fabric drying all the way here from her room."

"Good," Mira said softly. "Now tell me what you feel."

Rumi took another breath. Her fingers flexed slightly on the railing, grounding herself in touch. "The metal's cold and rusted from the rain, the railing's vibrating, there's a subway car passing underground."

Mira's expression softened. "You're doing great. Now…" Her voice dropped to that gentle command Rumi could never quite ignore. "What do you hear?"

Rumi hesitated. Her body tensed instinctively, sound had been the hardest part for her, the most violent. But she nodded once and opened her senses.

The world exploded in detail.

"I hear a woman talking on the phone at the building next door in one of the rooms; she's arguing about rent. A child is watching cartoons in their stroller as they walk past the building. The wind moving between the towers, an engine misfiring, a bird landing on a power line, and someone's dog barking at the corner of the block."

"Now," Mira said softly, "combine them. Use all your senses at once and see if you can try to find Bobby. Find his voice. Tell us what he's doing."

Rumi closed her eyes, and he world shifted and the city became a living map of sound, scent, and warmth. Her mind followed the threads of noise, up through the air vents, down the streets, across distances measured not in miles but in breath. Then, she found him.

"…world tour again? No, no, no. They need rest. Or maybe? okay, maybe just a short one, oh, Bobby, you're too generous…" He sighed, papers rustling in the background. "But those ticket sales, though…"

Rumi's lips curved faintly. "He's in his office. Talking to himself. Debating whether or not to plan another world tour."

Zoey snorted. "Classic Bobby."

Behind her, Mira turned and caught sight of Celine by the doorway. The older woman stood silently, watching, arms folded. When Mira met her gaze, Celine gave a single approving nod, something Mira interpreted as them doing the right thing, before Celine turned and walked away.

When Rumi opened her eyes, the world was still bright and loud, but it was manageable. It no longer pressed against her like a storm. It breathed with her. Rumi leaned back from the railing, exhaling shakily. Mira and Zoey were beside her at once. "You did it," Mira said. "See? You're learning to control it."

Rumi looked between them, eyes soft. "Thank you. For helping me… for not leaving me to deal with this alone." Mira shook her head, her expression unreadable but gentle, and she approached Rumi, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We're not letting you go through this alone. Not again."

Zoey stepped closer, her tone quieter now. "We made that mistake once, which almost led to a disaster. But we fixed it, because we had each other. Because we always will."

Midnight

The clock above the kitchen ticked softly, its hands brushing past midnight. The penthouse was quiet, wrapped in the kind of stillness that followed long days and half-fought battles. Celine stepped into the living room, the hem of her coat whispering against the marble floor. The faint hum of the city outside was the only sound.

She found Mira and Zoey there; Zoey was curled into the corner of the couch, a blanket around her shoulders, and Mira was sitting forward with her elbows on her knees, staring at the dark window as though waiting for something.

Celine spoke softly, her voice carrying that calm steadiness they remembered from years of training, "Is Rumi asleep?"

Zoey looked up, shaking her head. "She tried," she said, her tone laced with exhaustion. "But she couldn't. Her senses wouldn't let her rest. Every little sound kept her awake." She rubbed her eyes. "She's out on the balcony now. Said the air helps."

Celine's brow furrowed, but before she could speak, Mira was already standing. "I'll check on her."

The balcony door slid open with a low sigh. The night air rushed in, cool and smelling of rain. Rumi stood there barefoot, leaning against the railing. Her hair moved gently with the wind, strands catching the moonlight. She didn't turn around when she heard Mira; she didn't have to.

"You're still sensing everything?" Mira asked, stepping closer.

Rumi shook her head, slow and deliberate. "No," she said softly. "It stopped a few minutes ago. It's like someone flipped a switch. Everything just… quieted. It's the first silence I've had all day, plus I wanted some time to myself, some peace and quiet, after everything."

Her eyes lifted toward Mira, silently asking if she understood. Mira did. More than she wanted to admit. She stepped closer, her tone softening. "That's good. You deserve the quiet." She rested her hands against the railing beside Rumi's. "Then let's go back inside before you freeze out here, Zoey and Celine are waiting."

Rumi nodded and followed her back inside.

They walked back together, the glass door sighing shut behind them. The living room light was low, the soft gold of the lamp pooling over the coffee table where Zoey sat. Rumi sank onto the couch, her posture slow and heavy from exhaustion. Mira sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed, while Celine lingered in the armchair opposite, her hands folded in thought.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The silence wasn't heavy, only thoughtful, a kind of collective exhale after everything the day had demanded.

Then Mira broke it. "Celine," she said quietly. "Once this week is over… will Rumi be Rumi again?"

Celine's gaze lifted to her. There was no hesitation, only calm. "Yes," she said simply. "She'll return to normal after the full moon passes. I think what you said, what happened to her after she teleported… her nose bleeding, her being drained of energy… I think that will only happen during the week of the full moon, when her wolf side fights against her demon side. But once this week passes, the wolf will be dormant, waiting for the next full moon."

Zoey leaned forward, curiosity laced with fatigue. "So…if she ever teleports again after this ends, no more nosebleeds? No more collapsing after teleporting?"

Celine's lips curved faintly. "After this week, those should stop."

Rumi let out a quiet, tired laugh. "Good. That's one less thing for Mira to worry about."

Mira elbowed her lightly. "You say that like I'm gonna stop worrying."

Celine's tone softened, a small warmth threading through it. "There may be one thing that stays, though." She paused, glancing at Rumi, "There's one thing she might keep."

Rumi looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Your senses will still be heightened ever after you go through the change, but under your control this time. You'll be able to turn them on and off whenever you want, instead of being overwhelmed by them."

Zoey's head tilted. "So like… a superpower?"

Celine's mouth curved into something close to a smile. "In a way, Eun-hyuk told me that with his senses, he could sense danger before he saw it, before it even reached him."

Zoey grinned, the weight in the room lifting slightly. "That could be really useful. Imagine, no more surprise ambushes. She'd sense a demon before it even shows up. Rumi would be like a walking demon detector."

Mira let out a quiet laugh, leaning back against the couch. "That would be so sick."

Rumi shook her head, smiling faintly despite herself. "A demon detector? Really?"

Zoey nudged her shoulder. "Hey, it fits. You'd save us a ton of trouble."

The sound of their laughter broke the stillness that had haunted the day. For a moment, the penthouse felt alive again. Rumi leaned back against the couch, eyes half-closed, finally feeling the calm she'd been chasing all day. Zoey yawned beside her, leaning her head against Rumi's shoulder. Mira sat still, eyes fixed on the faint shimmer of moonlight outside, her hand resting near Rumi's on the cushion, close enough to touch, but not quite.

Celine rose quietly, pausing at the edge of the room. She glanced back at them, the three young hunters, exhausted and bruised by the unknown, but together. Then all of them were silent. Rumi was the first to speak. "Celine," she said softly, "What happens tomorrow? You said the symptoms change every day. So what's next?"

Celine met her eyes. "You're sure you want to know?"

"I'd rather know now than wake up tomorrow blind," Rumi said quietly. Mira's hand brushed her arm, grounding her, while Zoey's gaze darted between the two like she was bracing for another storm.

Celine exhaled slowly. "Alright." Her tone softened, almost maternal, but there was an undercurrent of warning in it. "The next symptom won't be like what you felt today. It's not something you can control or calm through focus. When it happens, it will happen because your body needs it to."

Rumi frowned slightly. "Meaning?"

Celine's eyes dropped to the floor, her hands clasped. "Meaning this is when it starts to take over." She lifted her gaze again, steady and grim. "You won't be able to stop it, and you will definitely… panic, all of you will. You'll want to fight it, you'll want to hide it from them…" her eyes flicked to Mira and Zoey, "...but resisting will only make it worse. When this begins, you'll need space because the wolf will start changing her from the inside out."

Zoey leaned forward slightly, her voice small. "Change her… how?"

Celine hesitated, and the quiet stretched. "It's the body preparing itself. The inside has to change before the outside can. It's… violent in its own way. The wolf is making sure she survives the night of the full moon, that her body can handle what's coming. But the process is not kind."

Mira's hand tightened on Rumi's arm. Rumi didn't look at her; her gaze stayed locked on Celine, unreadable. "So you're saying this one's going to hurt."

"Yes," Celine said softly. "It will hurt. And it will scare you. It will scare them." She looked at Mira and Zoey then, her voice steadying. "Whatever you see, you don't interfere. Not unless she's in danger. Let it happen. The more she fights, the more the wolf fights back. So you will give her the space she needs, understand?"

Mira's jaw clenched, but she nodded. Zoey swallowed hard and did the same. Rumi's eyes lingered on the window for a long time, watching the reflection of the city lights ripple faintly against the glass. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket around her shoulders, the soft fabric doing little to ease the chill settling in her chest.

Celine stood after a moment, her tone gentler now. "Get some rest, all of you. Tomorrow will be harder." She hesitated before turning toward the hall. "Remember what I said. Don't stop it when it comes."

The soft click of her door closing left the three of them in a silence that felt heavier than before. Rumi leaned back into the couch, exhaling through her nose. "So… something I can't stop, something that's going to hurt, and something that's going to freak everyone out." A humorless smile touched her lips. "Sounds great."

Mira shifted closer, placing a steady hand on Rumi's knee. "Then you don't have to go through it alone."

Zoey nodded, her voice softer but firm. "Yeah. If it happens and you need us, just call us."

Then Rumi gave a small nod. "Okay."

The three shared one last look, silent, knowing, heavy with what the next days would bring, before standing. One by one, they drifted down the hall to their rooms, the echo of their footsteps fading into the soft hum of the city below. The last light clicked off, leaving the penthouse quiet again, waiting for what tomorrow would bring.

Chapter Text

Late morning draped itself softly over the penthouse, sunlight slipping through the blinds in fractured bars of gold. The girls had fallen into a rhythm, quiet, almost normal. On the steps of the stairs, Mira scrolled aimlessly through her phone, thumb flicking over the screen without really seeing what was there. Zoey sat on the piano, her notebook open across her knees, murmuring old lines of lyrics under her breath.

Rumi sat on the couch, her guitar resting against her knee, the sound of soft strumming threading through the air like a heartbeat. Just pieces of a song with a few chords, a quiet hum beneath her breath, something half-formed but beautiful in its hesitancy. Her eyes were distant, focused somewhere past the window, past the sunlight.

Then, mid-note, Rumi's hand faltered.

Her fingers slipped from the strings as a dull throb pulsed behind her eyes. The sound broke, leaving a hollow echo in its place. She blinked hard, thinking it was just fatigue. But the dizziness deepened, like the world had shifted half a step to the side. Her breathing hitched.

Then…

Drip

Drip

Drip

Something warm fell onto her wrist. She looked down in time to see the thin red line sliding off her hand and onto the pale wood of her guitar. It spread in slow motion, curling against the strings, dark and shining in the light. Another drop followed, then another, each one landing with a soft, wet tap.

For a moment, Rumi didn't move. She just stared at the blood spreading across the guitar's body, the color too stark against the cream finish, too wrong in the morning light. Then she blinked, realizing what was happening. She pressed the back of her wrist to her nose, but more blood spilled out, warm against her skin, trailing down to her lips before dripping onto her jeans.

Rumi froze. Her breath hitched. A second later, she coughed and it was sharp and involuntary. The sound cut through the quiet, startling Zoey enough to look up from her notebook.

"Unnie?" Zoey said, frowning. "You okay?"

Rumi glanced down at her hand. There was blood on it now. She turned slightly, rubbing her nose quickly with the back of her hand, smearing the red away before they could see. "I'm fine," she lied, forcing a small, strained smile. Mira's eyes narrowed from the couch. She didn't say anything yet, but the look said she didn't buy it.

Rumi stood abruptly, her balance shifting, trying not to let them see the panic starting to crawl under her skin. The metallic taste filled her mouth, sharp and bitter. She barely made it to the hallway before the cough came back, violent, wracking. She pressed her hand to her mouth, and when she pulled it away, her palm was wet and red.

She turned from them before they could see.

Mira's phone clattered onto the couch as she stood. "Rumi?"

But Rumi didn't answer. She stumbled the last few steps toward the bathroom, hand pressed to her lips. Mira and Zoey watched her disappear down the hall, heard the door slam shut, and then the lock click.

"Rumi!" Zoey ran after her, Mira close behind. Mira twisted the handle, it was locked. "Rumi, open the door!" she called, pounding once. No answer, just the harsh sound of coughing from the other side, wet, broken, and wrong. Mira froze, her hand still on the door.

From the corner of the hall, footsteps approached. Celine's voice cut through the tension, calm but edged with worry. "What's happening?"

Mira turned, her eyes wide. "Is this what you meant last night?" she demanded. "The thing you said would freak us out? She started to panic, saw something we didn't"

Celine hesitated, the weight of the moment settling into her expression. She nodded once. "Yes. I didn't want to scare her more than she already was."

"Scare her?" Mira's voice cracked. "She's in there, alone, and she's suffering!"

Celine took a careful step closer, her voice steady but low. "Eun-hyuk went through the same thing. I couldn't help him then, and it tore me apart to watch, just like you. But he was fine in the end. Rumi will be too."

From behind the door came a weak voice, Rumi's, barely holding together between breaths. "Mira… I'm okay."

Mira pressed her forehead against the door. "Rumi, please, just open up."

"I'm gonna be fine," Rumi said, the words trembling. "Whatever's happening… it'll go away."

Mira's throat ached. "Are you sure?"

Rumi hesitated before whispering, "Do you trust me?"

Mira closed her eyes. "Yeah," she breathed. "I do."

"Then wait," Rumi said. "Just wait."

Celine put a hand on Mira's shoulder, her voice quiet. "I'll stay here. I'll let you know when it stops."

Zoey's voice was soft, shaking a little. "Rumi, we're right here, okay? If you need anything, just… just call us."

Mira added, her voice low, "We're not going anywhere." There was a pause from inside. Then a faint, broken sound , like a breath caught in between pain and exhaustion. "Okay," Rumi whispered.

Mira and Zoey stepped back reluctantly. They exchanged a look before slowly walking back down the hall. Behind them, Celine sat on the floor beside the door, silent but listening.

From inside came the muffled sound of water running, followed by the unmistakable retching noise that made Mira stop halfway back to the living room. Zoey turned quickly, but Mira's hand stopped her from going back. "She told us to wait," Mira said quietly, though her own voice was trembling. Zoey pulled Mira back to the living room

They went back to the couch. The air felt colder now. Mira sat down heavily, her eyes catching on the guitar, which was still on the couch, its wooden body marked with small dots of blood where Rumi's nose had dripped. Beside it, on the cushion, another faint smear. Zoey stared at it for a long time, then pressed a hand to her chest.

"She'll be okay," Zoey whispered. "She'll be okay." She said it again, and again, like the words might make it true.

Mira didn't answer. She reached over and took Zoey's hand, squeezing it tight. The silence between them was broken only by the faint echoes from the hall, the sound of someone fighting through pain alone, and the quiet patience of the ones waiting for her to come back.

Late Afternoon

Mira sat on the couch, elbows resting on her knees, her eyes fixed on the hallway that led to the bathroom. She hadn't spoken in almost ten minutes. Her phone was on the coffee table, untouched. Beside her, Zoey sat curled up with her knees tucked under her chin, the notebook she had been holding earlier now lying forgotten on the floor. The cushions around her were still marked faintly where Rumi's blood had fallen earlier, a few dark stains that Zoey had tried to wipe away but couldn't.

Every few minutes, Mira would glance at the clock, then back to the hallway. Nothing changed. The silence pressed down heavier each time.

Neither of them had moved since Rumi ran to the bathroom. The silence between them was heavy, filled with all the things they couldn't bring themselves to say out loud.

From down the hall, soft footsteps echoed, measured, steady. Celine appeared, her expression unreadable but gentler than before.

Zoey was the first to stand, her voice barely above a whisper. "Is she okay?"

Celine hesitated before answering, "She's okay, she wants both of you."

Mira was already standing before she finished. Zoey followed, nerves tight in her chest as they walked down the narrow hall. The air there smelled faintly of antiseptic and steam, mixed with something metallic that hadn't quite faded. Mira hesitated at the door before opening it slowly.

When they reached the bathroom, the light from inside was dim, casting soft reflections across the glossy tiles. Celine stayed back, letting them go ahead. Mira reached for the handle and slowly eased the door open. The hinges creaked softly.

The sight made both of them stop.

Rumi sat on the floor behind the half-wall that hid the toilet, knees drawn tightly to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Her head rested against the cold tile behind her. Her face was pale, almost colorless ,but the faint patterning beneath her skin glowed darker, more distinct now, threading like shadows beneath the surface. Her hair stuck to her cheeks, and her eyes, tired but still present, lifted slightly when she noticed them.

She blinked once, voice quiet and raw.

"...Hey."

The single word hit Mira harder than she expected. It was small, fragile, but it was Rumi.

"Hey," Mira said softly. "Can we come in?"

Rumi nodded once, barely moving her head.

They stepped inside, careful, as though afraid the wrong sound might break her. Mira crouched first, her hand brushing Rumi's shoulder lightly before she looked toward the toilet. The smell hit her first, iron, faint but unmistakable. She looked inside.

Mira stepped inside first, her boots clicking against the tile. The air smelled faintly of iron and water. Her gaze flicked toward the toilet, and her stomach tightened when she saw what was inside, it was dark, red, and thick, like something half-liquid, half-clotted. She reached out and pressed the button, watching as the water swirled, carrying the blood away until only clean water remained.

Zoey turned toward the sink. The porcelain was streaked with red where Rumi had braced her hands earlier, tiny smears marking her fingerprints and the inside of the sink was light red where Rumi vomited first before the toilet. Zoey turned on the tap, letting the water run until the sink was clear again, clear of blood.

When she turned back, Mira was already kneeling beside Rumi. She sat down next to her, the tile cold through her jeans. Zoey joined her on the other side. The three of them sat close, the small bathroom suddenly too quiet, too intimate.

Mira's voice was soft. "You okay?"

Rumi's eyes moved to her. For a moment, she didn't answer, then her lips parted. "It felt like… something was leaving me," she said quietly. "It didn't feel human."

"Yeah, well," Mira said gently, her tone caught between teasing and reassurance. "Neither are half the things we deal with. Just means you're stronger than it was."

Rumi gave a faint, broken smile. "It felt something that wasn't supposed to be there. It hurt, but… when it was over, it felt cleaner. Like it got something out."

Mira studied her, her face softening. "Then that's good. Whatever it was… it's gone. Don't let it get to you."

Zoey nodded in agreement, her voice gentle. "Yeah. No matter what happens, you're still our Rumi. Always."

Rumi's lips twitched at that, a ghost of a smile. Zoey leaned in until her head rested lightly on Rumi's shoulder. Mira followed, pressing her forehead briefly against Rumi's other shoulder. The three stayed like that for a while, the sound of running water still echoing faintly from the sink.

Mira exhaled softly. "Alright," she said finally, "as much as I love emotional bonding, we are sitting on the gross bathroom floor." She pushed herself up and offered a hand to Rumi. "Let's get you back to the couch before you catch something worse."

Zoey chuckled softly, and Rumi let out a tired hum of agreement. They each took one of her arms, helping her to her feet. She was shaky but standing. Together, they guided her back through the hallway, slow and careful, until the warm light of the living room touched them again.

When Rumi saw the couch, her steps faltered. Her gaze caught the faint red specks on the cushion, the dried traces of blood from earlier. Her expression tightened. "I…" She hesitated, swallowing. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "For that. I didn't mean to..."

Mira frowned, gently guiding her down to sit. "Why are you apologizing? It's not your fault you got a nosebleed." She tucked a strand of hair behind Rumi's ear, her voice soft. "We'll clean it later. You just need to rest."

Rumi sank back into the cushions, her body sagging with exhaustion. Zoey disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, returning with a glass of water. "Here," she said, kneeling beside the couch and handing it to her.

"Thanks." Rumi took a slow sip, her hands shaking slightly. Mira caught the motion but said nothing.

When Rumi leaned back again, Mira noticed Zoey fidgeting beside her, something bulky in her pocket. Her eyes flicked down. Tissues, half a pack, stuffed haphazardly into the fabric. Zoey noticed her looking and gave a small, sheepish shrug.

"Just in case," she whispered.

Mira's lips twitched with something like a smile. She nodded once. "Good thinking."

Zoey settled on the other side of the couch, close enough that her shoulder brushed Rumi's. The three of them sat there in quiet company, the glow of the city lights flickering across the window glass.

Around Midnight

The penthouse had gone quiet again. Outside, the city was wrapped in silver light, its noise softened by distance and glass. The faint hum of traffic below mixed with the occasional rattle of the air conditioner, familiar sounds that filled the space between breaths.

The three of them were gathered in the living room, the lamp casting a warm pool of light across the couch. Rumi sat between Mira and Zoey, a blanket over her legs, her hair still a little damp from the earlier shower. The worst of the afternoon was behind her… or so they thought.

Zoey leaned back, wanting a way to take their mind of everything with one leg tucked beneath her. "So… the next concert," she said, half teasing. "If Bobby hasn't burned down the studio by now, maybe we can actually rehearse without him interrupting us every five minutes."

Mira gave a soft, tired laugh. "I'll believe that when I see it."

Rumi smiled faintly, running her fingers over the edge of the blanket. "He'll find a way to make it chaotic. He always does." Her voice was still rough, but lighter now, steadier. For a moment, it felt almost normal, just them, talking, letting the weight of everything slip away for a few minutes.

Celine watched from the doorway, her arms folded loosely, saying nothing. She leaned against the frame, the soft lines of her face illuminated by the lamplight. The way they laughed, the way Mira unconsciously leaned closer whenever Rumi spoke, it reminded her of the old days, when laughter was still easy.

But then something changed.

Rumi's hand slowed where it rested on her knee. The faint smile faded. A flicker of unease crossed her face as her gaze unfocused. She blinked, once, twice, and pressed a hand to her forehead. The room tilted just slightly, but enough to make her stomach twist.

"Rumi?" Mira's voice cut through the chatter.

"I'm fine," Rumi murmured automatically, but even as she said it, she felt it, the warm slide beneath her nose. She raised her hand and swiped at it, only to find her fingertips painted red.

Zoey noticed first. "Rumi…"

Rumi looked at her, then quietly asked, "Zoey… tissues?"

Zoey immediately fumbled in her pocket and handed them over. Rumi took the bundle, pressing it to her nose, dabbing gently. She breathed out through her mouth, trying to make it look casual. The blood had already soaked through the first tissue.

Mira watched her carefully. "You sure you're okay?"

Rumi nodded, not meeting her eyes. "Yeah. I'm fine"

But Mira saw it, the pale skin, the glassy eyes. The lie was thin, fragile. She didn't call her on it. Not yet.

Rumi stood, the blanket slipping from her lap. She made it two steps before the cough hit her, sharp and sudden, forcing her to grab the edge of the table for balance. She bent forward, one hand clutching her chest, the other bracing against the wood.

"Rumi?" Zoey's voice trembled.

Rumi looked down and saw the blood on her palm. The sight made her stomach lurch. Without thinking, she turned and half-ran to the kitchen, one hand pressed over her mouth. Mira was right behind her.

She reached the sink just in time. The sound of water hitting metal mixed with something heavier, it was wet, raw, unmistakable. Rumi coughed again, harder, her body shaking with the effort. Blood splattered against the steel basin, dark and stringing down with the water.

Mira was at her side in an instant, one hand on her back, the other steadying her shoulder. "Easy, easy," she murmured, her voice low, calm despite the twist in her stomach. "Just let it out, Rumi. Don't fight it."

Rumi gasped between coughs, her breath ragged, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She spat into the sink, her hand trembling as she gripped the edge.

Mira's touch softened, her thumb brushing gentle circles against Rumi's spine. "You really suck at lying," she whispered, a faint smile ghosting her words.

Rumi let out a shaky laugh between breaths. "Yeah… I know." Her voice broke, followed by another cough that left a small spatter of red against the metal. She reached for the faucet and turned the water on, letting it wash everything away.

Celine appeared beside them, her face calm but her eyes sharp. "Rumi," she said softly, "are you alright?"

Rumi wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist, straightening slowly. She looked pale, shadows hollowing her eyes. "Yeah," she said weakly. "I just… thought it was over."

Celine shook her head gently. "It happens twice," she said, voice quiet but sure. "The first cleanses. The second takes more out of you."

Rumi swallowed hard. "Feels like it's taking everything."

Mira looked at her, she hardly looked like herself. Blood streaked from both nostrils, running down to her lips and chin before dripping into the sink below. Her skin had gone pale and sallow, the faint patterning under her eyes darkening like veins of ash. Her pupils were dilated, her expression blank but fierce, caught somewhere between exhaustion and defiance.

Behind them, Zoey moved quickly, pulling another handful of tissues from her hoodie pocket and pressing them into Mira's hand. Mira took them without looking away from Rumi. "Here," Zoey said softly.

Mira stepped closer, gently cupping Rumi's jaw with one hand while wiping the blood away with the other. The tissue came away red almost instantly, but she kept going, her movements slow and careful. Her knees buckled slightly, the strength leaving her all at once. Mira caught her before she could fall, looping an arm around her. Zoey stepped forward, worry etched across her face.

Zoey was already at Rumi's other side. Together, they guided her down the hall, her weight heavy between them. By the time they reached her room, Rumi's head was drooping against Mira's shoulder, her steps slow and uneven.

They eased her onto the bed, pulling the blanket up around her. Zoey brushed the hair from Rumi's face and whispered, "Rest, okay? You've done enough for one night."

Rumi nodded faintly. Zoey lingered a moment longer before giving Mira's arm a squeeze, seeing that she got this, and slipping quietly out of the room. Mira stayed for a couple seconds. She was about to turn off the lamp when Rumi's hand reached out weakly, fingers brushing hers.

"Stay," Rumi whispered. Mira froze, then smiled gently. "Of course." She sat down on the edge of the bed.

Rumi's eyes were half-lidded, her breathing shallow. Mira reached out, smoothing the blanket over her, then began to hum softly; a tune that drifted through the room like a memory. Rumi's eyes fluttered closed. Her lips moved faintly, almost forming the words before sleep finally pulled her under.

Mira kept singing until the silence returned. She stayed a moment longer, watching the rise and fall of Rumi's chest. Then she stood, quiet and careful, turning on the small lamp on the nightstand. Its soft glow painted the room in amber warmth.

She turned off the overhead light and lingered at the doorway, looking back one last time. Rumi was asleep, her face peaceful again.

"Sleep well," Mira whispered.

Then she closed the door halfway and let the night swallow the sound of her footsteps as she walked down the hall.

Living Room

When Mira closed Rumi's door, the soft click of the latch echoed through the hall louder than it should have. The quiet that followed felt heavy, thick with exhaustion and the lingering smell of antiseptic and iron. She exhaled, rubbing her palms over her face, trying to clear the image of Rumi's pale, blood-streaked face from her mind.

The living room lights were dimmed low, golden against the dark. Zoey was kneeling by the couch, pulling the cushions off one by one. She had a spray bottle and a rag balanced beside her, sleeves rolled up, her brow furrowed in concentration. The faint stains of red on the fabric were stubborn, and the look on her face said she'd been at it for a while.

Mira blinked, stepping forward. "What are you doing?"

Zoey glanced up, her expression a mix of sheepish and determined. "Cleaning," she said simply. "Can't sleep anyway." She looked back at the cushions, scrubbing again. "Figured even if Rumi's going through hell, the least I can do is keep this place from looking like it."

Mira hesitated, then sighed and knelt beside her, taking another cushion. "You could've waited until morning."

Zoey shook her head. "Nah. I… need to keep busy. Helps me not think about it too much." She gave a small laugh, the kind that was more air than sound. "Besides, it's our couch. It's been through late-night takeout, movie marathons, random naps after practice. I don't want to remember it like this. I want it to still be the couch we crash on after everything's over, when we go on hiatuses, when things feel normal again."

Mira paused mid-swipe, her throat tightening. She didn't say anything right away, but she nodded slowly. "Yeah," she murmured. "The same couch we always come back to."

They finished in silence, working side by side, the smell of detergent mixing faintly with the city air drifting through the cracked window. When the cushions were finally clean, Zoey gathered them up, and the two of them carried them down the hall toward the small laundry room. The hum of the dryer filled the space, soft and steady, as they placed the covers inside to dry.

By the time they returned, Celine was in the living room.

She was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, Rumi's guitar laid across her lap. A cloth and small bottle of cleaner rested beside her. The faint scent of lemon oil filled the air. She was gentle with it, careful, wiping away the thin, dried stains near the strings.

When she looked up and saw them, she offered a faint smile. "I saw you cleaning the couch," she said softly. "Figured I could take care of this. It's the least I can do."

Zoey froze for a second, unsure how to respond. She looked to Mira, who was standing by the doorway, silent. For a long moment, Mira didn't say anything.

Finally, Mira's voice came quiet but steady. "Thanks."

Celine inclined her head slightly. "You're welcome."

Zoey watched the two of them, the unspoken tension hanging between them like a wire ready to snap. She looked toward Mira again, but Mira had already turned away, walking to lean against the wall near the stairs. After a moment, she sat down on the bottom step, elbows resting on her knees, eyes fixed on the floor.

Zoey sat on the first step of the stairs, looking between Celine and Mira. Zoey was the first to speak again. "Celine," she said softly, "what's the next one?"

Celine's gaze softened. She set the guitar aside carefully and straightened. "Okay… what comes next… it's difficult. She'll begin to crave something else. Normal food will stop tasting right to her. Her body will reject it."

Zoey frowned slightly. "Crave what? What kind of 'something else'?"

Celine hesitated. "It's better if I don't…"

Mira's head lifted, her tone firm. "Be specific."

Celine hesitated. "Mira…"

"No," Mira interrupted, her voice quiet but edged. "If you want us to trust you, don't hold anything back. You told us half of what would happen before, and look how that turned out. I understood why you didn't give any detail about today. It was freaky, and I'll take that as an exception. Tell us everything.…"

Celine met Mira's eyes for a long moment. Then she nodded once, accepting the unspoken challenge.

"Raw meat," Celine said quietly. "Her body will start to reject normal food because the wolf is preparing. It needs what's alive, what carries blood and energy. That's what fuels the transformation. The craving can be unsettling, but it's natural for what she's becoming."

Mira's head lifted slightly at that, her brow furrowed.

Celine continued, her voice softer now. "It won't last. Once the moon passes, she'll return to normal,her appetite, her taste, all of it. But while it lasts, forcing her to eat normal food will only make her sicker. She'll need to follow what her body asks for."

Zoey hugged a cushion to her chest, her voice small. "So, what do we do?"

Celine wiped the last streak of polish from the guitar and set it down gently. "You can watch and let me do it. But if you want to understand it, you can try to help her. Feed her what she normally eats first, then the meat. Let her see the difference for herself. It'll help her accept it rather than fight it."

Mira stood, her expression calm but resolute. "I'll do it."

Both Celine and Zoey looked at her. Mira's voice was steady. "I promised her I'd help. And if this is what it takes to understand what she's going through, then I need to see it." She glanced toward Rumi's closed door down the hall.

The determination in her voice left no room for argument. She looked at Zoey then… steady, patient, the same way she had earlier when Rumi had asked her to trust her.

Zoey held her gaze for a long moment, then sighed softly. "Alright," she said. "We'll do it. Together."

The room went still again. The hum of the washing machine echoed faintly from down the hall.

Celine gave a small nod. Zoey exhaled slowly, tucking her knees to her chest. "Where are we even going to get the meat from?" she asked, half to Mira, half to the silence.

Mira turned her head, eyes narrowing with the faintest glint of realization. "You remember that bag Celine rolled in with her when she showed up?"

Zoey looked up, "Yeah, why?"

Mira nodded once, arms folding. "Yeah. I have a feeling she was prepared for this, that she knew it was a werewolf when you called her,"

Celine, who had been quietly wiping down the table, looked up at them, her expression unreadable but calm. "You're right," she said simply. "I had a feeling it would be a werewolf that bit her. Zoey, the way you described it was how you would describe one. It wasn't certain until I saw the wound heal, but…" She paused, lowering the cloth. "I came prepared, just in case."

Zoey exhaled slowly, leaning back against the armrest. "You really thought that far ahead."

Celine set the guitar down gently, brushing the polished surface one last time before turning to face them. "Experience teaches you to prepare for the worst, especially when the person you care about is involved."

For a moment, the room was quiet again. The soft hum of the city lights spilled through the windows, glinting off the marble floor. Mira's expression softened, the edge in her voice fading.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For helping her. For helping us."

Celine met her eyes, the faintest hint of a smile flickering there. "You don't need to thank me. I'm only keeping a promise…to Rumi, and to the people who love her." Zoey sat down on the couch, running her hand across the clean fabric. Mira glanced down the hall, toward the closed door of Rumi's room. The faintest glow of the lamp still bled through the crack under the door, steady and warm.

Chapter Text

Pale sunlight crept through the curtains, striping Rumi's walls in thin, uneven bands. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the clock. The second hand moved, each tick landing like a question she couldn't answer.

She waited for the pain, for the fever, for another sign that something was shifting under her skin. But nothing came. Only the quiet hum of the city, the faint echo of the girls' voices somewhere beyond her door. The absence of change felt wrong, too still, too calm, like the air before a storm.

Minutes stretched. When nothing happened, Rumi sighed and stood, her bare feet brushing against the cool floor. The faint smell of food reached her first, warm oil, garlic, soy. It tugged at something instinctive. Her stomach twisted, but not with hunger, but it was something stranger, sharper. She followed it down the hall.

The dining room was already alive with soft sounds. There were the sounds of the clatter of dishes, low music from Zoey's phone. Mira stood by the counter, plating food, her hair tied up messily. Zoey balanced a bowl of shrimp tempura over rice, careful not to spill.

Zoey saw Rumi first. "Hey! Morning," she greeted, her voice light but edged with the kind of cheer that tries to mask worry. Rumi gave a small nod, moving wordlessly to the table. She sat, her posture quiet, almost withdrawn. Mira exchanged a quick glance with Zoey before walking over, wiping her hands on a towel.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly. Rumi's gaze lingered on the food before her. "I keep waiting for something to happen," she said finally. "But it hasn't. It's like the calm before something I can't see."

Mira crouched slightly to meet her eyes. "You should eat. After yesterday, your body needs it."

Rumi didn't argue. She picked up the chopsticks Zoey handed her as Zoey set down the steaming bowl of shrimp tempura. The scent hit her immediately: fried batter, soy glaze, rice, but it was… dull. She brought a bite to her mouth, chewed once, twice, then stopped.

She swallowed hard, set the bowl aside.

Zoey blinked. "What's wrong with it?"

Rumi shook her head. "I don't know. It just tastes… empty. Like cardboard." She tried to force a smile. "It's not your cooking. It's me."

Mira frowned, exchanging another look with Zoey. Without a word, she picked up another plate and brought it over. It was a neat roll of kimbap. "Then try this. It's fresh." Rumi took one piece, bit down, and waited. But the same nothingness met her tongue; she couldn't taste the salt or the sesame, and there was no life in the food. She set the chopsticks down carefully beside the plate.

"It's the same," she said quietly. "Like I'm eating air."

Before either could respond, Celine's voice came from the kitchen. "Mira," she called, holding something covered with a metal lid. "Bring this here."

Mira hesitated and exhaled, took the plate, and returned to the table. The lid was warm beneath her hand. When she placed it in front of Rumi and lifted it, the scent hit immediately, metallic, raw, real. Cubes of meat, deep red and fresh, glistened faintly under the light.

Rumi didn't think. The moment her eyes landed on the plate, where it was raw, red, and glistening softly in the low light, something deep in her chest tightened and pulled.

Her fingers curled before she told them to. She reached out, almost dazed, fingertips brushing the cold surface of the meat. The smell hit her like a shock. Metallic. Warm. Real. It pushed into her senses with an insistence that made her throat tense.

Then she ate, and it was slow, deliberate bites, each one sending a tremor through her body. The taste flooded her tongue like it had been missing from her life all along. Heat pooled beneath her ribs, a low ache easing with every swallow, like someone loosening a knot tied too tightly in her stomach.

She didn't see the girls watching. Didn't hear them breathe.

All she knew was the relief. By the time she stopped, the plate was empty again.

Rumi stared down at her hands, where the red smeared across her palms, streaked between her fingers, staining the half-moons of her nails. Her chest rose and fell too quickly. Her heart wasn't racing from fear… but from something else.

Something that felt frighteningly satisfied.

Silence filled the room.

Zoey's eyes were wide, Mira's frozen halfway between disbelief and fear. Only Celine moved, stepping closer. Her voice was gentle, almost maternal.

"Rumi," she said softly. "How do you feel?"

Rumi blinked, breath hitching, her eyes lifted, wide and shaken.. "I didn't even think... I just..."

Celine crouched down beside her. "This is the next symptom," she said quietly. "Your appetite's changing even before the moon rises. That gives the wolf what it needs to prepare your bones, your blood, your senses. Eating it now…" She nodded toward the plate, "makes what's coming less violent. Easier on your body. If you fight the cravings," she said quietly, "the wolf will fight you back. Harder. And the transformation will hurt more. Resisting doesn't keep you in control; it only makes the wolf angry at you, which will make it worse and the wolf more violent."

"So… giving in is good?"

"It keeps you alive," Celine replied simply. "And it gives you a tiny grip on yourself before the wolf fully takes over." She brushed Rumi's knuckles with her thumb, anchoring her. "It's not surrender, but its strategy."

Rumi let out a shaky breath. Celine's next words dropped like a quiet truth between them.

"Its important for the wolf too."

Rumi looked up. "Why?"

"It sees raw meat as fuel. As prey. As the first step toward the hunt." Her voice softened, but her eyes did not. "Eating it tells the wolf your body is ready. It strengthens its hold. It's the first real victory it has over your human instincts."

"I didn't want it," she whispered. "But it felt like… like I needed it."

Celine nodded. "That's exactly it." Celine placed a steadying hand on Rumi's shoulder. Rumi's fingers curled in her lap, still stained red. She looked down at them as if they belonged to someone else.

"Don't worry, it's only temporary," Celine continued. "From now until after the full moon, things are going to feel… different. Your body will want things it never wanted before. But once the moon passes, all of this…" she nodded toward the empty plate, "...will fade. You'll go back to normal."

Behind her, Mira and Zoey were still silent, their expressions tight with a mix of shock and sorrow. Rumi could feel the tension and the fear coming from them. She turned toward them slowly "Did you make them do this?" she asked quietly, her tone unreadable. The question wasn't sharp…just tired, searching.

Celine opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Mira did. Her voice shook, but her eyes stayed on Rumi's. "No. We wanted to help. You said to trust you, so we did. I told Celine if this was part of it, we would do it instead."

Zoey swallowed hard, her voice softer. "We're sorry. We didn't know it would be like this."

Rumi blinked at them, then shook her head. "Why are you apologizing?" Rumi's voice steadied, quieter now, but with something warm beneath it. "You promised you'd help me through whatever's happening and you did. You didn't run. You didn't look away. That's all I needed."

Mira's eyes softened, her shoulders lowering just a little. Zoey smiled weakly, brushing away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen.

She paused, glancing down at her stained hands, then back up again. Her eyes held a faint shimmer, not just from the light, but from something deeper, steadier. "I've already accepted what's going to happen to me," she said softly. "Whatever pain it brings… I can handle it. I've been through worse. I've felt it… the kind that doesn't leave scars you can see. If this is what's next, then I'll survive this one too."

Mira's breath caught; Zoey's eyes softened with something close to awe. All three turned to look at Celine, who stood silent at first, her face shadowed by the morning light spilling through the window. Celine finally lowered her gaze, voice barely above a whisper, then stood. "She's right," she said. "You're doing exactly what she needs… staying."

Rumi looked down once more at her empty plate, then back at them. Her pulse was still loud in her ears, but steadier now. She wiped her hands with a napkin, the faint smell of iron still clinging to her skin. For a long moment, none of them spoke. Then Mira reached across the table and placed her hand gently over Rumi's. "Then we'll keep doing that," she said quietly. Rumi looked at her, at all of them, and nodded once.

Afternoon

Afternoon had settled softly over the penthouse. The air was warm from the breakfast they hadn't eaten, and a faint hum from the streets below bled through the glass windows, steady and distant.

Rumi sat curled on the couch, her knees tucked under the blanket that hung loosely around her shoulders. Her skin was pale under the low light, the soft lines beneath her eyes shadowed but calm. Mira approached quietly from the kitchen, a small bowl cupped in both hands. The faint metallic scent of raw meat trailed behind her, not overpowering, but sharp enough that Zoey had already wrinkled her nose.

She handed the bowl to Rumi without a word. Rumi took it carefully, staring down at it for a long moment before placing it on the side table beside her.

Mira huffed softly, sitting beside her. "You and me both."

Rumi stared at one of the cubes for a moment before picking it up. The texture was smooth, cold against her fingers. She took a small bite. The same pulse of flavor from before hit her tongue, deep and raw, real in a way that cooked food never could be anymore. She swallowed slowly, trying not to think about how natural it felt.

Silence lingered for a beat before Mira leaned forward slightly. "Could you really not taste anything from this morning?"

Rumi's eyes fell to her hands, fingers tracing the rim of the bowl. "No," she said after a pause. "It's strange. The shrimp tempura looked perfect, crispy, golden, all the smells I know by heart. For a second, I thought it would taste the way it used to, warm, salty, a little sweet. But when I bit into it…" She paused, shaking her head. "It was just… hollow. Like biting through a memory. I could feel the crunch, but it didn't mean anything. It didn't have a soul. It was like my body remembered how good it should be, but my tongue forgot what that felt like."

She looked toward the kitchen, her voice quieter now. "And the kimbap… that was worse. I kept waiting for the sesame oil, or the salt from the seaweed, or the warmth of the rice… but it was all gone. I could feel the texture, but my tongue didn't recognize it as food. I kept thinking maybe if I ate another piece, the flavor would come back, that maybe my mouth was just tired. But it never did. It was all texture, no taste. Like eating the shadow of something I used to love."

Zoey, sitting on the armrest of the couch, chewed on her lip. "So nothing at all? Not even the sesame oil or the seaweed?"

Rumi shook her head. "Nothing. It was like I was eating memory instead of food."

Zoey's eyes brightened suddenly with a spark of mischief. "Okay, hear me out," she said, holding up a finger. "Can I try something? Just once? For science."

Rumi blinked at her, wary but amused. "That's never a comforting sentence when you say it."

Zoey clasped her hands together. "Come on. One little experiment. You'll thank me when you start craving chili paste at three in the morning."

Rumi sighed but smiled faintly. "Fine. You have the green light, Doctor Zoey."

Rumi looked at Mira, who sighed. "But if this ends with smoke alarms again, you're cleaning the ceiling this time."

Zoey ignored the comment, heading to the kitchen with her usual quick energy. They heard the quiet sounds of her pulling ingredients from the fridge, the soft clatter of bowls and utensils. A few minutes later she returned, balancing a steaming bowl in her hands.

"Ta-da! Bibimbap," Zoey said proudly, setting it in front of Rumi. The rice was perfectly white beneath a mix of sautéed vegetables, fried egg, and bits of marinated beef. "Classic comfort food. You love this."

Rumi smiled faintly. "You really didn't have to."

Zoey winked. "Just wait, I'm not done." She reached for the bottle of gochujang on the table, uncapped it with a flourish, and poured a thick, glossy ribbon of red sauce over the top until the rice and vegetables practically disappeared beneath it.

"Zoey," Mira said, eyes wide, "that's not bibimbap anymore. That's arson."

Zoey ignored her, setting the bowl down in front of Rumi and grabbing the spoon. "All right," she said, mixing everything together with far too much enthusiasm. "Moment of truth. Tell me if this brings anything back."

Rumi hesitated, glancing between them. "If I catch fire, it's on you."

Zoey beamed. "Worth it."

Rumi took a bite. She chewed slowly. Swallowed. Blinked. Then looked up at them both, expression completely blank.

Zoey leaned forward eagerly. "Well?"

Rumi tilted her head. "It's… wet."

Zoey blinked. "Wet? That's it?"

"Yeah," Rumi said. "It's warm. But flavor? Nothing. It's like eating noise."

For a second, the room went silent, and then Mira laughed, a full, genuine sound that filled the space. "Told you. Congratulations Zoey, you just sacrificed our entire container of gochujang for nothing." Zoey groaned, slumping dramatically into the couch. "How? That was enough heat to kill a small army!"

Rumi smiled faintly, placing her hand on Zoey's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Zo, this is just temporary." She reached for the bowl of cubed meat again, her fingers steady this time.

She picked up a piece and bit into it. The texture no longer startled her; it grounded her, in a strange, unspoken way. Mira and Zoey watched, not in disgust but in quiet acceptance.

Zoey groaned, slumping into the armchair across from them. "You're both impossible."

Rumi smiled softly at the familiar exchange. "Maybe," she said, picking the bowl of cubed meat back up, "but you're still trying. That's what matters."

Zoey looked over at her, half-pouting, half-grinning. "If you say so."

Rumi glanced at the untouched bowl of bibimbap on the table, the gochujang glistening dark red under the lamplight. A small smile curved her lips as she slid it toward Mira. "This is gonna go to waste," she said softly. "And if one of us is gonna eat it, it should be you. You're the Spice Queen, after all."

Mira raised a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smirk. "Damn right I am."

She took the bowl without hesitation and dug in, the sound of her spoon scraping the side breaking the quiet. Zoey laughed, the tension easing from her shoulders, while Rumi leaned back against the couch, watching them with a faint, tired warmth.

Outside, the city lights shimmered like stars caught between rain and glass. Inside, the three of them sat in the quiet glow of evening, one of them caught between human and wolf, and the others holding space for both.

Evening

The sky had slipped into deep indigo, the city outside the penthouse glowing like a restless sea of lights. The quiet inside felt heavy, the kind of silence that comes after too much thinking. Mira had fallen into the corner of the couch, one arm stretched along the backrest, while Zoey sat cross-legged on the rug, flipping absentmindedly through her lyric notebook. Rumi leaned against a pillow, phone forgotten beside her, the faint hum of the refrigerator filling the space between them.

The elevator chimed.

A moment later, Celine stepped through the door, her coat slightly damp from the drizzle outside. In one hand, she held a carrier tray with three sealed cups, each one crowned with a plastic dome and fat straws poking through the lids. The smell of brown sugar syrup followed her in.

Zoey blinked. "Is that…?"

"Boba," Celine said, setting the tray down on the counter. "For you three. The third's for Rumi when she can taste again." She opened the fridge and slid one cup inside carefully, her voice quieter now. "She'll want something sweet when this is over."

Rumi managed a small smile. "Thanks."

Mira and Zoey exchanged wary glances as Celine walked over and sat across from them. The living room lights were low, the city's glow washing in through the glass. The silence stretched for a beat, heavy with what none of them wanted to ask.

Celine broke it first. "Before you ask," she said quietly, folding her hands together, "I know what you're going to ask me. The last symptom. You deserve to know."

Mira leaned forward slightly, her jaw tightening, but Celine continued before she could speak.

"This one will be the most difficult," Celine said, her voice calm but edged with warning. "This time, you will have to fight this instead of giving in. This one goes for the mind. It will use her own voice against her, and the voices of others… the people she loves most. You two especially."

Rumi went still. Zoey's eyes widened, her mouth parting slightly. Celine's tone stayed steady, but her gaze flickered to them. "It will whisper things to her. Command her. Hurt her with memories that feel real. It will sound like you, Mira. Like you, Zoey. But it won't be you. It'll twist your voices into something cruel, something hateful. And if you stay near her when it happens…" She exhaled slowly. "She might hurt you before she realizes it or before she can stop herself."

Zoey's voice broke through the silence, small but certain. "So… it's like Gwi-Ma," she said. "What he does to demons when he gets in their heads. The way he whispers until they lose themselves."

Mira nodded slowly, her eyes darkening. "When we found out about her patterns," she said quietly. "When Rumi ran from us, he got to us. He spoke to us and used our shame against us and controlled us. Almost made us and the rest of Seoul his lunch." She looks at Rumi, "But, he didn't."

Celine's eyes softened, a flicker of sorrow in them. "It will be like that," she admitted. "But this time, it isn't Gwi-Ma. It's the wolf, her own instincts trying to tear apart what keeps her human. The voices are born from her fears and the memories of your words. They'll sound real. They'll feel real. But they aren't."

Mira looked toward the hallway again, her jaw tightening. "And what are we supposed to do when it starts?"

Celine's gaze met hers, calm but unflinching. "You stay away, because you won't know who you'll be talking to if you two open that door."

The words landed like a blade between them. Rumi's gaze stayed fixed on her hands, thumbs tracing the faint scar on her shoulder through the fabric of her sleeve. "Can I stop those voices?"

Celine looked at her, not unkindly. "You don't stop them," she said. "You fight them. You don't let them control you." She paused, searching for words that would not sound like pity. "This is how the wolf thinks when it's in control because all it knows is to hunt. To kill. Everything it values is violence. Every instinct is survival through blood. That's what you'll hear inside your mind, its voice trying to overwrite your own."

Rumi's fingers tightened around the edge of the couch cushion. "So it's not just about pain this time," she murmured. "It's about losing who I am."

"Yes," Celine said quietly. "And that's why you can't fight it with fear. Fear feeds it. You fight it by remembering who you are, by holding on to the parts of yourself that are still human, holding on to the people you are close to, no matter what it says about you and about them."

Mira moved closer to the couch, sitting beside Rumi. Her shoulder brushed against Rumi's, steady and warm. "We'll be there," she said. "We'll be on the other side of your door when it happens."

Zoey sits on the other side of Rumi, "Yeah, we'll stay here as long as we want. We'll be here when it's over."

Mira and Zoey hold onto Rumi's hands, "You can fight this. You're still you, even now, you're still Rumi. That's what matters."