Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rumi had spent her entire life hiding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But in the end, all that remained was grief.

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

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

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

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

"Hey…"

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

"Hey…"
"…Is everything okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

Or at least it was supposed to.

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

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

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

And suddenly, everything changed.

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

God… If only she had managed to free him.

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

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

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

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

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

"Well…"

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

"Well… Actually, I-"

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

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

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

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

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

The pink-haired girl nodded silently.

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

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

That was peace.

Pure, unfiltered peace of the senses.

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

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

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

And there they were.

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

"'Sup."

"Hey, Sweetie."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

Chapter Text

"Mira… Is everything okay?"

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

"Uh… Hello?"

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

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

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

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

"If you say so…"

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

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

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

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

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

"No. It might upset you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure you want to know?"

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

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

Again, Mira said nothing.

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

"…Two of them."

Them?

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

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

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

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

"Grateful?"

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

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

"A kind of what?"

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

"…Humanity."

Six months earlier

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

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

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

Until they did.

Against every possible expectation.

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

They were free.

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

That was what freedom felt like.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Present Day

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, come on."

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

"Dude, this is me being supportive."

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

"Yeah, yeah. I got you."

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

Some time later

"Humanity?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"…It actually might matter a lot."

Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

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

And nothing moved.

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

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

Hopefully.

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

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

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

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

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

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

Or at least, that's what she thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And to her own surprise, she did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm twenty-five, smartass."

Then, just a beat of confused silence.

"Wait, what?"

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

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

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

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

"That's... Really weird."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence took over once more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, the fateful question.

"...Family issues?"

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

And she felt she could give him a chance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The world began to unravel.

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

Then… Pain.

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

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

And it happened.

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

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

All at once,
everything went black.

Chapter Text

"Rumi… Rumi, can you hear me...?"

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

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

"Can you hear me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"J-Jinu...?"

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

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

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

It really was him.

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

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

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

"I promise you're not going crazy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And suddenly, her eyes flew open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

No answer.

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, where exactly is there?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I... I appreciate it, but…"

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

"Zoey..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

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

"Leave me alone..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"W-What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once more, the room hushed.

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

"...Are you high?"

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

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

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

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

"And how the hell is that even possible?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So? You in?"
"…Yeah. I'm in."

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

And they took his words literally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Rumi?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Guys. That's enough."

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

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

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

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

Romance was collapsed on the ground.
Unconscious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let me look at you…"

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

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

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

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

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

"We still need her trust."

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

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

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

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

"And what if she doesn't?"

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

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

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

"…Are you sure?"

Romance's voice trembled, barely more than breath.

"Yes. Just give her time."

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

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

Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The guys should stay here tonight."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She's right. Back off."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not yet.

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

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

"So."

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

"Since you're the silent one…"

…And failing spectacularly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That shut them up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meanwhile

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And what if they don't?"

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

"…Maybe they never wore one."

Mira lowered her gaze, her expression unreadable.

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

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

"Maybe."

Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trying to defend herself from something that never came.

"Hey. Easy."

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

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

And there he was. 
Romance.

But nothing like she had imagined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was normal.

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

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

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

And then, barely above a whisper, he spoke.

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

Mira looked at him, puzzled. 

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

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

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

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

"So…"

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

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

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

"…Why are you asking me that?"

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

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

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

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

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

And sensing it, Romance went on.

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

He paused again.

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

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

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

"We were, until they found us."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That what?"

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

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

"But I'm… I'm just made this way."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, the world shifted again.

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

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

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

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

But not her.

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

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

"Now you're ready…"

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

And then, silence.

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

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

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

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

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

And that was when the others arrived.

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

What they saw rooted them to the spot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She lifted it.

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

But still, she raised it.

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

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

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

It looked possessed.

But not by Rumi.
By something far older.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there she was.

Rumi.

Collapsed on the ground, her body entirely human again.

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

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