Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The world wasn’t so easily fixed with a song, but it’d served as a catalyst for healing. 

Rumi felt like her heart had been cored, open and vulnerable, then found wanting. In those moments as she’d wandered her way to Celine and found her way back to the stadium, she’d been half-certain that they were right. Perhaps all demons were evil, perhaps she was just a mockingbird left in a nest of cowbirds. Just a parasite feeding on humanity, denying her own nature.  

Pink-red flames beckoned. 

In front of the corpse-like crowd, she’d felt the weight of her shame and impulsive actions. The Honmoon pulsing scarlet beneath her shoes, against the walls. Rumi thought of the hope she preached to Jinu. He’d failed his family and cast them away. Just as easily, he’d lied to her. And himself. 

She wasn’t confident that he was good. Rumi knew that demons did not possess a soul, but Jinu had a heart and regrets. It wasn’t her power to forgive him. He’d have to live with his own mistakes and shame. She’d seen the deadened way he spoke of his mother and sister. 

Jinu had betrayed his family for riches and a better life. 

He was a demon who’d set her up to be abandoned by her friends.

He’d free Gwi-Ma and set the king’s fire on the entire globe. 

Jinu was selfish and filled with shame and his dark eyes were filled with regret. And he’d died for her, giving her the power of his restored soul before he’d been consumed by the blaze. The light blue streaks of his heart coming to her, to her weapon, to revitalize her. 

Without him, Rumi would have died there, she was sure. He’d given her the resolve to power through and send Gwi-Ma away. He’d given her far more than that, a newfound perspective of how the world operated, of good and evil, and shame, and she’d known. She wasn’t just the Hunter or the demon, she was a sum of parts that could coexist. Just Rumi. Like he could be just Jinu. 

But now she was left bereft. She’d never sing with him again. 

The light blue lines shimmered into place around her as she sang, empowered by their hearts. Heartlines, she thought. Maybe his heart was one of the many pulses Rumi saw as she sang. 

The world was healing, slowly but steadily. It wouldn’t be fixed overnight; there were significant repairs that needed to be done. They’d siphoned a lot of their funds to assisting with reconstruction of the downtown. At night, the girls and her helped clear out wreckage or any remnants of the demon legions that had escaped the stadium. Between powering through the last stretch of the Golden promotions and disaster relief, there was a lot to deal with for all of them. 

She sat obediently with legs tucked underneath her, golden manicured nails resting on her knees, fighting the urge to shake her leg anxiously. Maybe she was a workaholic who couldn’t stay idle. They’d worked so hard for hiatus and Rumi had to fight the urge to head to the studio with her notebook and mess around with the soundboard.

I deserve this . 

She believed it a little more than the other times she’d repeated it to herself. It was easier to believe with Mira curled up on the couch next to her, snacks hoarded to her chest, with Zoey on her right stealing some popcorn from her shamelessly, using her puppy eyes like a weapon.

“Share, Zoey.” The redhead drawled, slapping Zoey’s hand away. 

“C’mon. I need the calories!” The younger girl gave a baleful look towards an unimpressed Mira. She  whined, holding her hand to her chest defensively, and trying to sneak the other hand back for more popcorn.  

“You ate most of it already. Leave some for Rumi instead of stealing the rest.” She ordered. 

“You can have my share.” Rumi insisted, pushing the bowl to the side. 

“You spoil her.” She chided, clucking her tongue disapprovingly.  “Go ahead, you monster.” 

“Yay! More popcorn for me!” Zoey cackled as she devoured the last bits, kernels and all, beginning with licking the bowl. 

Rumi just looked on fondly. She’d lost her appetite just thinking of him. It made her heart ache remembering everything. The Honmoon was repaired, no longer threatening to break apart like paper in water, but it wasn’t close to being golden either. 

She didn’t think she’d have this again: their trust, their company, or their acceptance. Her arms bare to the air, purple patterns flowing down her arms like a tattoo sleeve, and unafraid. She wondered if the voices went quiet for him in the end. 

Cradling the bowl of popcorn to her chest, the ravenette grabbed for the TV remote. “So, I know we were preoccupied with a potential demon apocalypse, but now is the perfect time to watch this new documentary I found!” 

“Boring~” Mira chimed in, “I’m in.” 

“Yay! What about you, Rumi?” 

“Sure, I’m down.” She agreed, relieved to have an opportunity to take her thoughts off demons for once. She tried to let her thoughts slow as a British voice started narrating the life to death journey of leatherback turtles. 

For the first time in a long time, she seriously thought of her mom. And her unknown father, a demon. 

She didn’t actually know her mother. All she knew of her mother was old footage of the Sunlight Sisters’ performances and secondhand accounts from people who knew her: like Celine. 

She wasn’t sure what to even say to Celine, the closest thing Rumi had to a mother, who refused to speak of how mom died and how she’d even met her father. She had never wanted to know about it, but meeting Jinu, she wondered more about their story. 

Was her father dead or one of many demons slain over the history of the Hunters? Or did he die by her hands unknowingly?

Rumi wanted answers, but didn’t know how to ask for them. 

She found herself in the room after the documentary, just thinking. Rumi was half-expecting to find a blue tiger with an invitation on their tongue, a six-eyed magpie with a hat sitting in the corner of the room. She felt herself going through the motions and lying in bed, staring at her ceiling blankly. 

A short rap sounded at the door. “Rumi, knock-knock!” 

“You don’t need to knock after knocking, Zoey.” 

“I just like saying it!” 

She sat up in bed, pulling off the sheets. It was a relief to not be alone with her thoughts right now. She opened up the door to find the shorter girl bouncing nervously on her feet with Mira by her side, arms crossed and playing it cool. “What’s up guys?” 

“Can we come in?” 

“Yeah, of course.” She moved aside, the two girls immediately crowded in. “Sleepover?” 

“Yessssss.” Zoey squeed enthusiastically, whipping out extra pillows and blankets from an improbable pocket dimension. “I’m ready.” 

Mira slipped in, yawning exaggeratedly and fanning her mouth. “It’s been too long, we’ve been too busy. I could totally sleep in.”

After the other girls settled on her bed, fluffing up the extra pillows and making themselves comfortable, they finally struck.

“So what’s up?”

“Mira, you said we were going to be subtle!” The raven sulked, her cheeks puffed up. 

“I know you’re dying to know as much as I am.”

The younger girl frowned, determination and guilt warring on her face. “Still, we should have worked up to it..”

“What’s the point of playing games?” Mira said pointedly. 

Zoey went quiet, a complicated expression crossing her face, before turning to face Rumi determinedly. “Mira and I are worried about you.”

Her heart panged again. A familiar fear seized her, she felt her voice dying in her throat. “I-I’m sorry.” She’d hurt them again. 

Zoey was smiling as she reached across to grab her hand, clasping it gently. Mira laid her hand on top of both of theirs. “Rumi, it’s not that. We know it was hard for you. And it’s been hard for us too, that’s why we’re working on it. We’re best friends and we’re here for you. It’s just--” She faltered, her voice trailing off. 

“I’ve been a poor leader and a bad friend.” 

“That’s not it.” Zoey scolded, clenching her fingers tightly till the knuckles were white. “You’re sad. It hurts seeing you sad and not knowing what to do. We care about you. We just want you to be open with us.” 

“Thanks.” She said softly. “I care about you guys too.”

Silvery tears immediately pooled at the corner of the younger girl’s eyes and Mira sniffed surreptitiously. “I love you guys so much.”

“We know. You’ve only said it the twelfth time today.” The redhead answered, her eyes watering. “Me too.”

“You’re going to make me cry again.” Rumi said tearily as she wiped her eyes. 

Clearing her throat, Zoey gave Rumi a meaningful look. “So what’s it about?” She spoke up hesitantly. “I mean we can get through anything, together. I mean Dispatch, really bad cliffhangers, regularly slaying demons?” She teased impishly with finger guns.   

Rumi flinched. 

“Ah-ha!” The younger girl jumped to her feet, pointing a finger. “So that’s what’s been bothering you!”

“Rumi, you know we accept you the way you are. Demon heritage and all. You’re our best friend and beloved leader, who happens to be a demon.” Mira scowled with narrowed eyes, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. 

“It’s not about that. I know.” And she meant it. 

The other two girls exchanged looks, before nodding. Zoey frowned, “Ok, so we believe you, but what’s up with you then, if not your demon heritage? You’ve been completely off and don’t say nothing!” Both of them stared at her expectantly. 

And like that she felt the floodgates loosening. The weight of everything had been pressing on her for weeks, but there never seemed time to address it and she’d been too preoccupied with like everything. Rumi couldn’t look up from her hands, the faint silvery-purple patterns that came to her wrist. She wondered if she’d recognize her dad if she’d met him. 

Taking a deep breath, Rumi bit the bullet, clenching her hands until her nails dug into her palm. “I’ve been thinking of Celine, my mom, my biological father... Jinu.”  

Zoey and Mira moved in closer to squash her in, squeezing Rumi comfortingly. Zoey questioned awkwardly, “Bobby told me she’s shown up at the office four times last week alone. She asked how you were. I think she really wants to talk to you.” 

“I don’t even think I know how to talk to her anymore. What would we even talk about?” She groaned, flopping back onto the bed. 

“I don’t know... Any of the other stuff you told us about, the Honmoon, the Saja Boys, yourself?” She questioned, raising an inquisitive black brow. “You might get some answers from her.”

“Rumi, shit went down. It’s been a lot for us.” The taller girl added. 

“The Honmoon’s been restored so Gwi-Ma’s at bay for now. The Saja Boys are sealed off to the demon world, and I’m not going to apologize for being a demon.” Rumi answered half-heartedly. “Your faults and fears must never be seen." She recited. 

“You shouldn’t.” Mira said firmly, a guttural growl to her voice. “It was fucked up and I get why you’re upset.”

“Rumi, I know it’s hard, but I think you should talk to her. I know she misses you.” Zoey interjected, squeezing her hand comfortingly. “I get what it’s like to not fit in. It was hard, I knew my Korean sucked and it was really clear I was a foreigner, and in Burbank a lot of people thought I was dorky and weird.” 

“Your Korean wasn’t that bad!”

“Your effort showed.” Mira offered unhelpfully. 

Zoey turned light pink, flushing. “Oh my god, You guys, moving on. My point is! It’s not even close to what you feel so I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for you: both a like demon and Hunter.” She waved her hand, making a confusing, indecipherable gesture. “But I know Celine loves you, I know you love her too and I think you’d regret not trying to talk it out with her again.”

She wasn’t confident of that: that Celine loved her. All she could remember is the fear on her face and the sickle she’d dropped to the ground like Rumi was a feral dog she’d waited too long to put down. It was okay if she wasn’t loved, but she wasn’t sure if she was okay with it. 

“I will be fine.” She corrected shakily. “I promise. It’s just I’m still a demon, that hasn’t changed.” She felt tears coming to her eyes. “ I will always be, it’s just how I was born. I wish she could love me for all of me...”

“No matter what, we love you, Rumi.” Zoey scowled, giving her a lung-crushing hug that she struggled to breathe through. She patted her reassuringly looking at a nonplussed Mira, begging for rescue. “You’re just our Rumi, the workaholic leader, our best friend with a heart of gold, and with a voice that could make I don’t know stone cry in Mira’s words. Don’t tell her I told you this.”

“I’m right here.” She hissed, her eyes narrowed like she might strike at Zoey.

Zoey let out a small eep, still hugging her but more of huddling behind Rumi like a riot shield, bony arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. Like that was going to do anything against a pissed off Mira. She pointed out with a shaky hand.  “You literally told us you loved us less than five minutes ago.”

“I’m reconsidering it.”

Her face softened. “Okay, but at the very least I don’t know.” Zoey waved her hands around frustratedly, glancing at Mira for help.

The redhead sighed reluctantly. “I had a suspicion this was what it was about.” She continued begrudgingly, golden eyes fixed on the ceiling. The younger girl looked at her beseechingly and she cracked. Mira let out a dragged-out groan. “Zoey and I talked. She might know more about your past than she’s let you know. Specifically, you know... your parents.” 

“Yeah!” The other girl supported eagerly. 

“I don’t know... How do you even talk to your foster mom after--” You give her a blade and tell her to end it all. She was not ready to talk about that with anyone, it’d been a passing thought that it might be easier or the right thing to do. In a significantly better place, Rumi could recognize she’d been going through a crash out of all time at the worst of times. She didn’t want them to worry about it. He’d have understood and accepted the hate and shame, familiar feelings for the both of them. Instead of that, Rumi just sighed exhaustedly. “All of this.” 

“By talking, communicating. I don’t know, this was Zoey’s idea. Family can suck.” When Rumi turned to look at her, the redhead was looking out the window fixedly, and they knew she was thinking of her own family. She couldn’t see her expression from this angle. “We’re here for you though whatever you decide on, Rumi.” The dancer stood up, touching her hand to her eyes, before turning around. There was not a single tear to be seen. Mira leaned forward to join their hug, slipping her arms around Rumi’s neck. 

As they pulled away, Zoey bit at her lip, looking like she wanted to say something. It was uncommon for her to hold back. “I also wanted to talk about Jinu a little. I didn’t understand him. He was a weird demon.”

“You can say that again.” Mira flipped one of her pigtails over her shoulder disdainfully. 

She squinted disbelievingly at her. “Weren’t you and Zoey both worshipping "Abby" and his washboard abs...” 

“Um, listen, he was hot and evil. I wanted him dead, but I can appreciate his hot as hellfire looks.”

“Okok!” Zoey pouted, before her expression grew more serious. Rumi felt her heart drop to her stomach. “You know,” She hesitated, “There’s an American saying that might fit here, Rumi.”

“Grief is love with nowhere to go.” She said tenderly. “To be honest, this entire experience has upended not just yours, but our worlds too. He died for you.” 

She felt her heart pounding in her ears, like it might suddenly stop in her chest. Like Zoey had surgically reached into her chest to rip it out. 

His golden cat-eyes turning brown and the azure blue of his soul resting in her hands. 

“I wasn’t in love with him.” Her voice coming out high and reedy.

She’d known him for less than a few weeks. He was a demon and an asshole. She’d never see him again so none of this mattered.  

“Maybe.” Zoey answered, her face uncharacteristically solemn. “But you’re grieving all the same.” Mira’s face mirroring hers, similarly serious.

She couldn’t look away from her arms, the patterns shimmering and shifting shades. She didn’t remember how his hand looked, clasped with hers. 

“It could get your mind off this. Either way I’d get it if you don’t ever want to talk to Celine again.” Mira offered. “But it’d be a good idea to get some closure on your parents. I didn’t think this demon crap could get any weirder than it was, and you might find out more. I don’t know closure? At least she’s trying to talk to you.” 

Rumi thought of that image of Mira’s family she’d seen once. She’d met them once when they’d dropped off all of her belongings, when they’d cut her off. 

“I’m scared.” Rumi’s voice came out shaky and unrecognizable to her own ears. 

“We are Hunters. And we can do this, together.” Mira promised.   

She felt the tears come back to her eyes. 

“Okay.” 

Chapter Text

She didn’t act on their conversation the next day. Or the day after that. A week had passed since their sleepover, but she still hadn’t done anything. 

But she kept thinking about it, turning their heart-to-heart over in her mind again and again. Having said their piece, both Zoey and Mira had avoided pushing her about it. She was grateful for it, she still needed time to reflect on everything, not to mention after opening up like that, Rumi had felt like her raw nerves were open and exposed, still tender.

Mira shuffled sleepily into the kitchen, stifling a yawn as she rifled through the fridge and coming back to the kitchen island with last night’s leftovers. “Morning.” She gracefully dropped in the seat next to Rumi like a bag of potatoes.

“Morning.” She returned with a fond smile. 

Mira wordlessly held out her hand. She passed both the chili oil and gochujang to the dancer, who proceeded to drown her mandu in it. Her eyes were watering from the spice, she had no clue how the taller girl did it without burning alive. And she was the demon from the burning fire of hell. 

Rumi giggled a little internally, relieved that she could joke about it a little. 

They passed breakfast with a heated discussion about the logistics of which fictional character would win in a fight. Rumi had her chopsticks pointed at Mira as she tried to explain how completely wrong she was, completely invested. “I’m just saying that the powerleveling in the movie completely misrepresented how strong he is. There’s no way Hulk beats Thor, a literal god.” 

“Oh my god, here you go with the powerleveling thing. This is the main series, how powerful they are within their own series doesn’t matter, Rumi. You don’t even care about Marvel. You were on your phone for ninety percent of most of the movies.” She pointed out accusingly. 

“I was paying attention.” -ish. She protested sulkingly. “I know enough.” 

The redhead’s eyes narrowed as she prepared to dismantle Rumi’s argument, piece by piece. “Right well--”

A high voice cut through. “Oh my god you guys didn’t wake me up?” She felt more than heard the thunder of feet. Zoey skidded to a stop in front of them, her buns half undone. “You better have left some of the mandu from yesterday!” She wailed, frantically pulling up a seat. 

Mira burped, beating her chest. The tupperware of mandu in front of her was damningly empty. 

Zoey stared at her aghast, eyes teary. “You traitor .” She hissed. 

“You snooze, you lose.” She drawled with a smirk. 

Rumi shook her head fondly as Zoey latched herself onto Mira’s back, shaking her back and forth. She’d dreaded their conversations turning stilted, that they’d treat her like a nuke ready to go off at any moment. It’d been overdramatic of her, but she was allowed to be in her feelings. But everything had been normal, relievingly so. Her heart swelled with warmth seeing the two squabble like kids.

Today was slow, there weren't any pressing matters at hand. It was a rare free day, they could do anything they wanted, except Rumi kinda wanted to just stay in and rot in bed with her music. 

“Rumi!” Zoey sidled up to her, finally letting go of Mira, their petty argument over it seemed. “You wanna join us at the mall?” She clapped her hands together enthusiastically. “There’s a limited time pop up selling some glow-in-the-dark ramen! And I want some more cute hair-ties.” 

That sounded intriguing but how would it work Rumi wondered. “It’s the middle of the day.”

“They have a darkroom style set up so you can enjoy the fluorescent colors at all times of the day I think?” Zoey mused, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “It sounded fun, I heard about it from Bobby. So you in?” 

Rumi couldn’t think of anything less appealing than going out when she felt so drained. “I think I’ll pass. I have some ideas for our next album.” Mira turned to open her mouth to presumably lecture her about easing up on her workaholic tendencies. “And I need some time to think.”

Their faces softened instantly.

“Of course, take all the time you need. You want us to bring you some leftovers?” The shorter girl offered with a soft squeeze of Rumi’s arm. 

“Yeah, there’s also that old tea shop that’s memorized your order. We can stop by if you’re running low on your favorite green tea.” Mira offered reassuringly. 

Old lady that she was teased for being, Rumi really needed to restock. Nothing hit better than a cup of herbal tea late at night when she couldn’t sleep or when her nerves were frayed and right now, she was feeling very frayed. “Thanks, can you please? I’m running low on barley tea and woo jeon.” 

Mira waved her hand dismissively. “Ugh, don’t worry. We got you, Rumi. Get some rest, you workaholic and we’ll bring some tea.”

“And ramen!” Zoey piped in cheerily, she tapped at her phone. Rumi’s phone dinged. “I sent you the menu, tell us what you want!”   

“Thanks, guys.” She answered softly, smiling helplessly at their affection. 

“Don’t sweat it.” The shorter girl winked, “Let us know if you want anything else, we’ll be back in a few hours.”

“If Zoey doesn’t get sucked into the plushie store again.” Mira snickered. 

“One word, turtles . How could I pass on the last one, it was just so cute! It had a pink bow.”  

“Your turtle paraphernalia is single-handedly keeping turtles from going extinct, Zoey.” The redhead deadpanned.

“And?”  

“Alright, cool it you two.” Rumi soothed them exasperatedly. “If you guys want to beat the line and avoid fans, you probably should go early before lunch rush starts.”

“She’s right!” Zoey cried, "Let's go go go, Mira!” The shorter girl shoved Mira along, who grumbled but they hustled towards their rooms. 

“Don’t forget your sunglasses and hats!” She called after the pair warningly. 

“Yeah, yeah, we got it.” She drawled. 

“Thanks, Rumi.” Zoey winked, “Make sure to check the menu! We’ll see you later.” 

Like a tornado, the two whisked in and out of their rooms donning hoodies and sweatpants, flashing her twin peace signs before they bolted for the elevator. 

This left Rumi with the penthouse to herself until presumably 3 P.M., she loved them but sometimes she just wanted some alone time, needed it really to think about what she was going to do. She’d scrolled through the menu briefly and picked a simple tonkotsu soup base with extra chashu. Zoe had spammed her with fifteen excited emotes of a rabbit jumping up and down. Mira texted “ok” which was as blunt as she was in person as she was over text. She tucked her phone away in her back pocket with a smile before cleaning up the brunch table. 

Now was the ideal time to figure out how she planned to confront Celine, if she was going to. 

She hadn’t been lying when she said it wasn’t about her demon heritage. She knew herself, the choices she made, defined her more than her blood. She was more than a Hunter or a demon, but Celine had a way of making her feel like there was, like she would never be enough. And the worst thing was Rumi wanted her to love her, but she couldn’t stop thinking of all the times Celine was looking right through her: like she was seeing someone else in her place, like she couldn’t bear to even lay eyes on her. 

She was getting a headache just thinking about it. Like it was undeniable to Rumi that Celine loved her, but at the same time, she’d always felt it was conditional, that it hinged on her singing ability, her dutifulness, her demon patterns fading away.  

If she’d lost her voice, if she abandoned her post as Hunter, if she stayed a demon, she’d wonder if the love would fade away too. 

She felt guilty for skipping out another meeting with Celine, but she wasn’t ready. 

As part of her Hunter education, she’d been trained for a lot of things. As their designated leader, she took the lead on interviews where necessary, supported her members, and listened to their concerns. Rumi always thought of how she’d maintain their group image, how to work with their team: the girls, Bobby, stylists, every single person behind the scenes. Talking and working with Celine was part of her responsibilities. She’d felt guilty for shirking them even if the other girls said it was fine. Right now, the thought of even seeing let alone speaking to Celine had her stomach in knots. 

A silvery blade resting in her hands that she held it up, weight heavy in her hands and begging for an end. 

It had her feeling like a teenager all over again. It was annoying, she’d moved beyond that. Rumi groaned, rubbing her temple as she looked over the Seoul horizon. The Honmoon pulsed a light blue, shimmering iridescent in the sun. 

She closed her eyes, trying to remember that exact moment, what exact expression Celine had made. Human memory is imperfect, but she feels like it was burned into her. 

Celine’s head bent over, her dark hair veiling her face. Her hands shaking as she refused to take the blade. Eyes anywhere but on Rumi’s face. 

She needed to know. There were so many things she wanted from Celine, but she needed to know more about her mother, about her death, about the demon that was her father. She felt like she had passed an event horizon. Before she’d convince herself that her demon heritage was something to be ashamed of, that all demons were heartless, mindless creatures. 

He’d been multi-faceted, capable of more empathy and understanding than she’d thought anyone could have for her. Maybe Celine could be too, she wouldn’t know if she didn’t give her another chance. Rumi knew she’d forever regret it if she didn’t at least try. The Honmoon shattering to pieces was probably not the optimal time to have emotionally charged conversations. 

Rumi tried to think of simpler times when she didn’t truly understand what having patterns meant, when her insecurities were a vague concept. She remembered singing lullabies with Celine under the tree, sunlight filtering through the leaves, their voices drifting in the wind together. 

She wished she had seen the Sunlight Sisters at its peak, just once. There was an undeniable heartbreak to Celine that Rumi felt she could never surmount, like a part of her love was forever withheld from her. 

Rumi wanted Celine to be a part of her life, she wanted her to accept her for what and who she was. She could be patient. She was feeling marginally more ready to ask her those questions she wanted to ask Celine her entire life. They were going to continue to work together to slay demons and reinforce the Honmoon, that wouldn’t change. They could at least have a working relationship, but she wanted to discuss it with Zoey and Mira more.

While waiting for the two to return, she’d idly played with her guitar, testing out different chords. They’d vaulted “Takedown” after the whole shebang. It’d been Zoey’s suggestion and Rumi knew how much that song had meant to her, as much as any of their songs. The younger girl had worked so hard on the lyrics, all of her care and heart poured into it, and she’d prioritize Rumi’s feelings over anything else. Mira had backed her up, completely unbothered about the persistent questions about that snippet of a song they’d sang at Idol Awards. 

Honestly, Rumi wanted to revitalize it. She understood that her being a demon wasn’t a reflection of herself, nor all demons. Maybe many of them were awful, but their knowledge of the existence of demons was extremely limited: mostly to execution methods and exorcisms. It was pretty sobering to realize that despite several hundred years of experience, they knew little to nothing. 

It was a good song conceptually and the melody was a banger. She didn’t want to vault it, but she was a little nervous about how receptive the girls would be to a rework. It’d been written to be more of a diss track with girl crush vibes and her original rewrite of the lyrics had been really depressing: a reflection of her emotional turmoil. Melding together a diss track and ballad was as challenging as it sounded, but she thought there was something to be had there. Rumi was confident the fans would love it.  

She searched her room for that page she’d been reading when Mira had confronted her: the one she tried to throw away but she couldn’t. She’d saved it and then left it to collect dust in a corner, the paper slightly wrinkled but otherwise intact. 

WHEN YOUR PATTERNS START TO SHOW

IT MAKES THE HATRED WANT TO GROW 

OUT OF MY VEINS  

I SEE A PAIN THAT LIES BELOW

Her heart panged. She wasn’t sure how it’d all piece together, but maybe they could do a tonal shift at the bridge. It’d be nice to bounce ideas off of each other. Writing music and lyrics was a painful, slow process, but there was nothing more rewarding. 

“We’re back~” 

“Rumi, we got your tea from halmeoni.” 

She hurriedly straightened her papers to put them away with the rest of her drafts, but she hesitated. Maybe not yet, but she wanted to talk to them about the song. Celine took priority though, so she left it on her desk for her to get back to later. 

Returning to the living room, she found Zoey lugging her haul back to her room. Judging from the three human sized turtle plushies she was dragging, it seemed Mira had been unsuccessful at deterring her from expanding her turtle sanctuary. 

Rumi side-eyed her, Mira scowled. “You try taking her away from turtles.”

She knew better than to fight losing battles, so Rumi mimed zipping her lips. It was best to not get between Zoey and her hyperfixations.

“That’s what I thought.” The redhead scoffed. “I left your tea bags near the coffee machine and kettle. Store them however you do, the grandma tossed in a few complimentary bags for her ‘favorite customer.’ She said this batch was imported from Jeju Island.” 

Rumi couldn’t help but let out an excited squeal. “Seriously?! I thought she said they were having a shortage of tea leaves this season.” 

“Well she said she had to save some for you, so you’re welcome.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes affectionately, allergic to showing real affection. 

“Thanks, Mira. I need to thank halmeoni too.” Rumi insisted gratefully, she was getting excited just thinking of brewing a cup. They never got her tea exactly right so she always preferred to do it herself. They just rarely had time when they were on tour or doing promos. “I can’t wait to unwind with a cup.”

“We also got you extra noodles along with chashu. I tossed it in the fridge.” 

“How was it?” Rumi asked curiously. 

“It was fantastic! I wish you could have come with us.” Zoey’s sweet voice cheerfully interrupted. The shorter girl had returned with one of her latest prizes: the turtle with a pink bow. “We stopped by Hansa Toy--”

Rumi stared at Mira. The redhead raised her shoulders defensively, twirling one of her long bangs around a finger. 

“I tried to stop her.” 

They both looked at the turtle Zoey was hugging tightly in her arms. And Mira accused Rumi of being too soft on their maknae. 

“--And I think this would be a perfect fit for the living room!” She propped her prize in the crook of the couch. 

“Zoey, no . We swore we would all keep our belongings contained to our rooms. You have a serious problem.” Rumi chastised, she refused to let herself be taken in by the puppy eyes the younger girl was giving her. Also she was pretty sure the rule was the only thing keeping the penthouse from being overtaken by the stuffed turtles. 

“Yeah.” Mira added unconvincingly. 

Zoey narrowed her eyes, sensing weakness like blood in the water like the very small, dangerous shark she was. “Hmph, I’ll wear you down.”

She felt the sweat building on her skin, praying the younger girl wouldn’t know it. Rumi knew she was pretty close to breaking them both, but there’s no way she could show it. Mira was stock still beside her, trying to evade notice. Eager to distract Zoey and herself, she instead asked them how the trip was. 

“Luckily, we’d narrowly managed to avoid the crowds. The broth was as out of this world as it looked in photos.” She gushed, “It was iridescent under the black light and looked super awesome and it was soooo delicious. The chef said it was because of this ingredient called quinine? Or something and other stuff, Ididn’tcatchallofitbutOhmygod,sogood.”

“...You’re going to need to slow down for me, Zoey.” 

“It was electrifying, I took so many photos.” Pulling out her phone, she shoved it in Rumi’s face, way too close for her eyes to properly focus but she could make out the fluorescence.  

“It was kinda wicked.” Mira remarked disinterestedly which was high praise from her. 

“The chef actually recognized us as Huntrix, he asked for our autograph!” Zoey preened, her smile blossoming. “We got a private booth and no fans saw through our disguise. He insisted we didn’t need to pay, but Mira death-glared him until he accepted payment.” She whispered conspiratorially into Rumi’s ear. She could easily imagine her narrowed cat eyes as she stared down the chef, hands at her side rigidly, money pressed onto the check folder: a perfect face of angry courtesy. It made her giggle a little which made the taller girl give her a dirty look. 

“They don’t do take-out, but I convinced him to make an exception for us.” The redhead threateningly pointed a perfectly manicured nail at her, “We just have to bring you next time. So you better.”

Rumi raised her arms up in surrender.

“After finishing up lunch we had so much time to kill, so we had to stop by Hansa Toy.” The younger girl sighed.

“Did you.”

“Can we be for real?” Mira snarked. 

“You guys are such killjoys!” Zoey protested.

“I was held hostage in our maknae’s favorite plushie store for over an hour while Zoey tore through their shelves.” Mira recalled with the tone of a witness in a disaster documentary. “But I managed to talk her down from getting dupes of the biggest turtle plushie.”

Thank God, because last time Rumi checked Zoey’s room she feared plushies were going to just flood out. She should give more credit to Mira, because she’s unsure if she would have been able to talk down the other girl. 

“One of the kids was staring Really suspiciously at us and kept looking up and down between my turtle haul and her phone, so we got nervous and paid and made a quick getaway.” She explained with a sheepish smile. 

“She also had your norigae charm, Zoey.” Mira rolled her eyes. “So she was probably a mega fan of yours.” 

“Omg, really?” Heart eyes forming, she clasped her hands together, swaying back and forth “That’s soooo sweet.” She swooned. “I wish we could have stayed and talked to her.” 

“Considering how much you frequent that godforsaken shop, I think it’s pretty likely we run into her again.” Mira snickered. “You should be their brand representative.” 

“You guys managed to sneak off to the tea shop undetected?” 

“Duh, what do you think we are? Trainees.” The redhead scoffed. 

“Overconfident seniors maybe.” Rumi teased, “I’m grateful you guys got tea for me.” 

With narrowed eyes, Mira glared at her. “I feel like the person who literally acts like a crotchety old grandma brewing her own tea should not be casting stones.” 

“The tea shop grandma was so nice! She recognized us although she kept asking us if you were sick and why hadn’t she seen you in a few weeks.” Zoey said, beaming brightly.  

The old grandma that manned the shop had run it for at least a few decades. She was no-nonsense and would immediately set about getting Rumi’s usual ready all the while chiding them for not coming more often and if they wanted to try her latest tea from so and so, and a lot of other tea lingo that would go over the other two’s heads. Rumi adored her.

“Yeah, she scolded us for fifteen minutes.” Mira sulked. “For your transgressions.”

“We tried to tell her we didn’t need any samples, but she forced them into our hands anyways...” Zoey admitted dejectedly.  

“Mira, couldn’t stop her?” She mused. 

“Watch it.” The aforementioned tough girl snapped, shooting Rumi another dirty look. She was collecting a lot of those today. 

She should stop poking the beast. Badass that she was, Mira could not resist any grandma or grandpa, immediately folding like wet tissue paper in the face of any resistance. She flustered all too easily in the presence of old people. Rumi could directly recall multiple instances that attested to that. 

Their banter quickly devolved into childish squabbling that went long into the evening and past dinner, but it was the light-hearted kind that took Rumi’s mind off her problems. She could comfortably put the longing on the back burner, at least briefly. It was in a lull in the conversation that she popped the question.  

“Is Celine in the office tomorrow?” 

The two girls immediately came to a standstill, Zoey’s hand frozen in the air where she’d been excitedly gesticulating out something she’d seen on a variety show and Mira guffawing at her antics, her laughter low and husky. 

They exchanged twin looks of concern, something Rumi felt she was getting too used to. 

“She is, but... are you sure, Rumi?” Zoey’s bit on her lip nervously. 

Mira regarded her coolly, her eyes warm but quietly supportive. “You don’t need to speak to her until you’re ready. You don’t need to rush. Celine can wait.”  

“I don’t think I’ll ever truly be ready.” She admitted. “But I think it’s better to rip it off like an old bandaid.” 

“Do you want us there with you?” Zoey worried, hands hovering over Rumi, looking like she wanted to pat her down and hug her until her lungs gave out at the same time. 

“I need to speak to her alone.” She was grateful for their willingness to support her as she needed it, ready to probably storm hell and back if she asked for it, but this was something she needed to do by herself. 

“We’re here for you no matter what.” Mira offered reassuringly. 

“Thanks, guys.” Rumi said with feeling, they both looked at her affectionately and she wanted to hug them immediately.  “Now get in here.” She said with open arms. 

“Say less!” Zoey wedged herself in the crook of her offered arm, her freckled face pressed against Rumi’s shoulder. 

“Ugh, fine.” Mira complained, joining the hug with feigned reluctance. 

“I do want to talk about a few things after I speak to her.” She paused at the increasingly worry growing on their faces, giggling helplessly. Zoey’s eyes narrowed and her mouth tight as she prepared to get super serious. “Nothing so serious, it’s related to our songs.” 

That succeeded at breaking the tension in the air as the two of them immediately went into performative bitching and whining about her workaholic tendencies. 

Zoey slid from her grasp, to wail and pound at the floor, tears pouring from her eyes. Mira frozen and staring into the distance, dissociating from the reality of more work. Both of them were dramatic as ever and she couldn’t help but the helpless fondness and affection she felt that came to her heart just looking at them. 

Everything would be alright. She knew it.

Chapter Text

Try as she might, it’s hard to break a lifelong habit of waking at sunrise, even if they’re on hiatus (for real this time). Light was beginning to creep across the urban skyline, climbing up the skyscrapers, and casting gold against the wooden flooring. 

She remembers that Celine would rise with the sun, a habit of her Hunter days. They’d meditate under the gingko tree, prayers and wishes trailing like ribbons above her head. 

Her eyes flickered to her phone laying face down on the bedstand. A quick tap at the screen and a few swipes to turn off Sleep Focus, it was 6:08 A.M. and way too early to be awake. But she couldn’t go back to sleep. Her drowsiness was already clearing and she was already way too alert. Ugh. She briefly scrolled through her notifications to see if there were any texts from Bobby, but there was nothing time-sensitive she needed to do. He’d just sent a few cat videos paired with an emote of a rabbit yelling “Fwighting!” She couldn’t help but giggle, sending back a cheerful rabbit of her own. Rumi could try to flop back into bed, flip on her eyemask and ignore the light leaking into her room, but she wouldn’t fall back to sleep. Maybe if she was more exhausted, but not right now. 

Rolling out of bed, she stretched her arms skyward, turning her head back and forth to crack that crick in her neck. Rumi couldn’t resist letting out a small yawn as she pushed her door open, traipsing her way to the bathroom just across from her room. 

While they didn’t each have their own, this one had become her own by default. The other girls’ rooms were on the opposite side of the penthouse, so it’d just been more practical for them to share the one closer to theirs. It wasn’t an accident. It’d been planned that way when they picked their rooms so she could get more privacy. And she loved Zoey and Mira, but it was comforting to have her own space. Even without the secrets. 

Her row of skincare products were scattered across the table, some of them laying on their side, others rolled up against the edge. In the last few weeks, she’d been busy with the cleanup following the attack. And before that they’d been preoccupied with the demon boy band apocalypse so there’d been more important things keeping her attention. 

Sifting through the mess and reorganizing it was a hassle, but taking a look at the perfectly lined up bottles and jars had Rumi grinning. 

Splashing water on her face, Rumi squeezed a small pump of cleanser to rub at her face, making sure to be extra thorough with her nose where she was prone to sebaceous filaments. Her favored toner had a slight fragrance of rose and yarrow, a random thing she’d “stolen” from Zoey since the younger girl had a bad skin reaction to it. She massaged a few drops into her cheeks, finished up with some moisturizer and as an afterthought some sunblock. Even if today wasn’t sunny and she planned to stay indoors, it wouldn’t hurt. No makeup was necessary, she didn’t plan on going out.

The tips of her hair were curling where they’d come undone from her braid. Too lazy to fix it completely, Rumi just looped the loose ends into the tie. It was getting toasty since she still had her hoodie on. Examining her reflection, she could see faint patterns framing her face, crawling down her neck like ivy. 

Before she could overthink it, she ripped off the sweater. It felt awkward having her skin exposed to the air, exposing her demon marks. Rumi ran a hand along her forearms watching the skin raise with goosebumps. Just in case, she reasoned as she tied the hoodie around her waist. 

Making her way to the kitchen island, Rumi first noticed the door to the balcony was slightly askew and the sound of some upbeat music trailing in. A pitcher of orange juice sat on the counter, condensation collecting on the glass with a half empty glass sitting next to it.

She didn’t hear any chatter, so she was guessing Zoey was still sleeping. It was probably just Mira waking up early to workout although it was anyone’s guess on whether she was watching a cardio dance workout vid or running through some yoga. Depended on the redhead’s mood.

Rumi settled into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the girls, putting some eggs aside to reach room temperature and using the rest to whip up an egg drop soup with some chicken stock from the last time they nearly burnt down the kitchen together. There was still leftover rice in the fridge and some kimchi which she plated into two separate bowls so Mira could douse it with all the gochugaru she wanted until the pickled veggies were fire engine red. As an afterthought, she threw some bread in the toaster. 

Cracking the eggs over a hot pan, she whipped up a few omelets, taking them off while they were just under with a golden exterior. 

After five minutes, like a fish to a lure, Zoey appeared right on cue, looking half-awake but very hungry. 

“Morning, Zoey.” 

“Mhmm.” Still sluggish, the other girl yawned, patting her mouth. Staggering to the counter with her empty glass, she poured some orange juice for herself. “It’s too early to be awake.” 

“Help yourself. I made some breakfast.” Rumi offered, gesturing to the spread behind her as she cracked an egg over the pan. 

“Thanks, Rumi.” 

“You want some eggs?”

“Erm, not to knock your cooking skills, but I think that’s burnt, Rumi.” 

Rumi turned to follow her pointed finger. A plume of black smoke was rising from the toaster, two slices of scorched coal jutting out. “I can make you some more toast.” 

Zoey scrunched up her face, musing her options, “It’s ok! I’m just going to grab some sour cream chips to eat with the eggs.” 

“You just like those because they have turtles on the bag--.” 

“They’re good.” She defended with a pout, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“--And junk food isn’t a substitute for a real breakfast.” 

“That’s why I’m eating it with eggs and kimchi. Duh.” 

“Oh, Zoey.” She sighed gustily, her lips twitching with amusement as she watched Zoey shovel eggs and rice into a bowl only after grabbing her precious Turtle Chips. “Here.” She gestured towards the stock pot. “Grab some egg drop soup too.” 

“Oh my gosh. You spoil me.” The younger girl crooned, her dark eyes sparkling. 

“Just eat your food before I cut you off.” 

Zoey hissed, hugging her bowl of food to her chest, cheeks bulging with rice. “Stway away from mwy fwood.” 

“You know I made it right? Also swallow before you talk, dork.” 

She covered her mouth, gulping before she pouted.  “I’m appreciative and I’m eating it!” 

“Thought I heard noise.” Mira emerged from the balcony, shaking back her sweat-slick hair and unwinding the towel from her neck to dry herself off. “You’re up before 11, Zoey?” 

“Rumi cooked!” The younger girl protested then drooped her head, looking a tinge chastened. “And I fell asleep midway through the documentary.” Zoey admitted sheepishly, her cheeks red.

Rumi flicked her forehead making their maknae whine in protest. 

“Oh, so that’s what smelled good. I thought you called takeout.” Mira patted her cheeks, kicking her legs back and forth, taking a spot next to their maknae. “Thanks for cooking, Rumi. It’s been like forever since you cooked. Pass me the kimchi?” 

“Right?” She rolled her eyes. “With our world tour, we’ve just been so busy. Here you go, Mira.” She answered, sliding over the kimchi to the other girl. “Gochugaru in the fridge behind you.” 

“We’ll clean up.” 

“Mhm-hmm!” Zoey shot her a thumbs up, slurping up her soup. Swallowing, the younger girl waved the ladle she’d set aside. “You haven’t even eaten any of your egg drop soup yet.”

“Thanks, guys.” She accepted the bowl gratefully, taking a seat opposite the two of them.

“I’m going back to doing yoga after breakfast, since you’re up early, you should both join me.” Mira suggested between bites. 

“Eh? But I wanted to finish my documentary!” 

“Your date with David Attenborough and turtles can wait, Zoey.” The redhead scoffed, flicking a bang behind her ear. “And we could watch it together on the couch with bingsu and kimbap.” 

Despite polishing off nearly two bowls of rice in record time and a bowl of egg drop soup like a sentient vacuum cleaner, Zoey looked starving again at the mention of food. “You’ve convinced me.” 

“Oh--” She grimaced. For a moment she considered taking up the invitation and putting off dealing with Celine later, but no. She’d already put it off long enough. “I was going to talk to Celine.” 

Mira bit her lip, working it between her teeth. “Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you, Rumi?” 

“Yeah, like moral support.” Zoey offered up brightly.

“No, I just need to talk to her. One-on-one.” 

The taller girl’s face softened as she looked at her. She reached one hand to squeeze Rumi’s shoulder, the warmth of her hand lingering after she pulled away. “You got this.” 

“I believe in you, Rumi.” Hopping down from her seat, Zoey bounded over to give Rumi an airtight hug, squeezing tight enough to crack some ribs. “I’m sure Celine will come around.” 

“Well that’s what I’m hoping...” Rumi sighed, her voice trailing off. She wondered what the hell they would do if this conversation went poorly. Although she still hadn’t talked about the exact details of it with Mira and Zoey, they knew that it’d been about her demonic heritage and Celine’s inability to accept her for it. Just not the other stuff that had happened. 

She felt that bore addressing at a later date, she’d felt so desperate with everything crashing down around her, it’d felt like the only escape. All the negative feelings she’d locked away coming out in full force until her chest burst open. 

“If she doesn’t, that’s her fault not yours.” Mira finished with conviction. 

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Looking down at the breakfast she made reminded her of simpler times. She could see her reflection mirrored in the egg drop soup. Involuntarily, she remembered the many, many times Celine would make this exact breakfast, bar toast, for her as a child to teenager. It’d almost become a comfort meal. She hadn’t had this in a hot minute.

Taking a bite of her eggs, Rumi felt they were not the right gooeyness or saltiness. She hummed along as the girls discussed a reality tv show they wanted to watch together, only paying half attention to the conversation. She let her mind drift to her mentor. Celine would have used a pinch more salt. She could never nail the balance, so it never tasted quite the same.

She can’t even recall the last time she and Celine had breakfast together, just the two of them. Scratching her brain, she tried to think of some recent memory, but came up empty. It must have been years ago when she’d been a teenager and they’d just debuted. There’d always been more important matters at hand (training, comebacks, composition, etcetera) that their time spent together has fallen to the wayside. 

If Rumi was honest with herself, she couldn’t even fully blame Celine. The thought of being alone with her mentor had her heart tightening with anxiety. Every interaction was burdened with the unspoken knowledge of her demon heritage and secrecy. Celine had been withdrawn, but so had Rumi. 

The simpler times of her childhood were but a dot in the distance: easy to overlook and far gone. 

The love she felt and experienced, part of Rumi wondered if it was real. She thought of the evidence, logging and filing it away in her mind, trying to make sense of it all.

Rumi doesn’t remember when the shame began but it was when she started to shy away. The anxiety had become too much. A part of her had realized she was subconsciously avoiding Celine. 

Closing her eyes, she let the background convo fade into white noise. She touched one hand to her heart, taking deep breaths inwards and outwards. As she finished her meal, Zoey began putting away leftovers in Tupperware and leaving the dirty dishes behind. Mira took up the helm at the sink, rinsing them off with scalding water and organizing them into neat rows in the dishwasher. 

As she watched the two of them work together like a well-oiled machine she tried to turn over what she’d even say to Celine. There were so many things they needed, should, could talk about. A part of her was tempted to try to gloss things over and Celine might go for that. Just continue to ghost her mentor at every opportunity while demon breaches were still a threat. 

Yeah. Sure, that was practical. 

As their mentor, her expertise when it came to demons was invaluable. They could put aside their problems and work together. At least Rumi wanted to believe that. She wanted to give it a chance even if she doesn’t trust the conversation not to be painful. 

“Rumi.” She jolted, Mira was standing in front of her, meeting her eyes with concern. “Do you want to join us for yoga on the balcony later?” 

“Who’s we?” 

“I’m good.” Rumi interjected with a laugh. “Depends on how long the conversation drags on.” 

“Okay.” The redhead sighed, “Come on, Zoey.” 

“Ugh, it’s way too early.” 

“You need to stretch or your muscles are going to get tight and you’re going to feel it when we get out of hiatus--” She lectured, resting her hands on her hips, glaring at the younger girl disapprovingly. 

“I know, but I don’t wanna.”  

Still bickering, the girls exited the kitchen: Mira dragging Zoey behind her like an errant puppy, a turtle-patterned yoga mat tucked underneath her other arm. They continued to argue and tease each other, their raised voices carrying through the glass.

Rumi took a glance at her phone to check the time. About an hour and a half had passed, it was nearly eight in the morning. Time flew by when she was having fun. “Let’s do this.” She sighed, stuffing her phone in her pocket. 

Pressing the button to call the elevator, she watched the numbers climb until it hit 125 with a soft ding. Entering the booth, she pressed 123 after the doors closed in on her.  

Celine’s office was a few levels lower than the penthouse, below the floor where her own quarters were. She didn’t usually stay in Seoul. Celine spent the majority of the year in the countryside, tending to her mother’s grave and staying sentry day and night through spring to winter. With the seasons, she changed flowers. From cherry blossoms in the spring to camellias in the winter. Rumi recalls gathering wildflowers from the meadows nearby to stick in tiny vases next to Celine’s. 

The well-kept tombstone was kept clean from the weathering of time. Celine must have loved her dearly to contradict her own beliefs about demons. It made Rumi wonder what kind of woman Ryu Miyeong was to inspire such devotion and love. There was only so much she could piece together from old footage and secondhand stories. And she had the feeling that Celine’s stories of her mother were carefully curated, leaving out key details about the events preceding her death. Just that it was the fault of demons. 

After thinking it over all morning, Rumi figured out the priority of her shortlist of crap she wanted to talk out with Celine. 

First and foremost, she wanted to straighten out their relationship. If there was a severe fracture in the Honmoon, they couldn’t let awkwardness impede shit in any way. Celine was a pragmatist. That wouldn’t be an issue.  

Acceptance was a harder ask, but she wanted to believe that Celine could see past it all. Although, she had no idea how long it would take. 

Secondly was her demon heritage. Rumi knew how to gut a demon. She had intimate knowledge of how to identify each and every subsect of demons with a glance. Knowing their strengths and weaknesses was integral to being able to slay a demon. 

They were emotionless, incapable of empathy, devoid of a soul whose only purpose was to drain souls to channel to the demon king Gwi-Ma. 

Golden eyes pooling with guilt and anguish, refusing to meet her gaze. 

There must be more exhaustive sources she could find on demons. Throughout her upbringing, she remembers reading previous Hunters’ first-hand accounts dotted with their own suggestions and knowledge. But that was just a few of many, and they’d stuck to the basics. The focus had always been exorcism and achieving the Golden Honmoon. 

She was hoping that their expansive library might give her direction. She had the stray thought that maybe she could find something her mother had written. Maybe ask some questions about her father and Celine not shut down. 

Rumi caught a glimpse of herself in the metallic doors. She’d opted for a comfortable tank top with some shorts, baring her arms, neck, and legs to the air. Her iridescent patterns caught the light, shimmering between violet and blue. She didn’t immediately recoil at the sight of them, but she felt naked with them exposed. 

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

His dark eyes open and honest, as he looked at her, leaving her cored to the heart. She couldn’t meet his gaze. 

She grabbed at her wrist, twisting the intertwined blue and purple threads of the bracelet between her fingers. His memory shadowed her even now, she didn’t want to forget, but every memory she had of him felt bittersweet. She’d barely known him, but they’d known each other better than almost anyone had: even the ugliest parts of her. 

The hum of the Honmoon surrounded her and she thought of his soul threaded into her blade. If a demon could, Rumi hoped Celine could see her for herself. 

The doors opened with a cheerful chime. Elevator music distantly registering as a Twice B-side Rumi wasn’t familiar with, she let the doors close behind her. A beam of sunlight cut a road to Celine’s door at the end of the hallway. With how many times she found herself taking this path, Rumi felt the marble flooring should have more signs of wear, but it was immaculate. There wasn’t a speck of dirt to be found and the tiles glimmered with how carefully they’d been polished. She can’t remember an instance where they were ever unclean. 

Like afterimages, her memories played past happy moments. Like when they’d first formed the group, still awkwardly navigating friendships stilted with small talk while Celine kept the conversation flowing, or when they celebrated record-breaking achievements right here in the office. Rumi’s heart warmed thinking of them, but she was also reminded of anxiety-ridden discussions. Of the times she’d gone alone to talk to Celine, clutching at her patterns hidden deep under her layers, and lying again and again. 

Scared is not the precise word for how she felt, it feels like she’s standing at the precipice of something. Whether it was disaster or something good was yet to be seen. Rumi felt both brave and gripped with terror, but forced herself to walk forward. 

She could hear the soft clacking of Celine’s keyboard grow louder as she drew closer. The older woman’s office door was ajar, so Rumi could peek in before knocking. She’d been holding out hope that Celine was out of her office or had decided on returning to the countryside early, but the older woman was sitting there, scanning some documents, her face grimly set. Her eyes were focused on something on the screen. She neglected to wear her glasses, opting for contacts. 

It was easy to forget, but Celine was in her fifties. She’d been almost her age when her best friend died and had to raise a half-demon girl on her own. Yes, she’d been older than Rumi, but not much so. It was difficult for her to imagine having a boyfriend considering idol life, let alone a kid, on top of figuring herself out. She doesn’t know how Celine did it. 

 Rumi took a moment to examine her side profile. Her mentor was beginning to show signs of aging, with crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes and gaunt cheeks, but an absence of smile lines. A far cry from the unshakeable woman she remembered as a kid. 

She wasn’t weak, but she looked vulnerable, but maybe that was Rumi projecting after they both crashed out when the Honmoon went down. 

Maybe that was love, the kind that sucked ass and was typical of family. Mira would agree, Zoey would protest it. 

Her office was just as Rumi remembered it. A stack of documents to her left and right. A picture frame of the three of them with Celine next to her computer. She sat in her chair, back ramrod straight, her head bent as she looked over some documents, long black hair veiling her face. Rumi remembered their conversation ages ago about her patterns, but this was her.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Rumi rapped at the door hinge, taking a deep breath. Celine, still distracted, was flipping through some documents with a grimace. I’ll be done in a minute. Come in--,” She lifted her lid and her placid smile instantly froze. “Rumi.”

“Hey, Celine.” 

For a brief pause that stretched too long, the tension grew until it was suffocating. Rumi kinda wished that demons were an imminent threat to get out of this conversation. 

“I have questions for you.” 

“How have you been, Rumi?”

Even more awkward silence as they spoke over each other. Bashing her head against a wall seemed less painful. The wrinkle between Celine’s eyebrows deepened. Ducking her head in an awkward gesture, a hand extended. “You go ahead, Celine.”

“...Are you eating well?” That was the non sequitur her mentor was going with. 

“I’m doing fine.” She rubbed her arms in absence of anything else to do, the awkwardness only growing. “Is that really what you want to talk about?” 

Celine grimaced, her face twisted as she turned away, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She paused, broaching the topic carefully. “Zoey and Mira have taken it well.” The older woman looked at Rumi, her eyes not straying anywhere else but her face.

“We had a long talk and worked it out. They know now and it doesn’t change anything.” 

“I see.”

“Is that all you have to say?” 

Rumi was relieved her voice didn’t crack even as she felt her heart pound in her throat. Her mentor sat motionless, like a statue in a museum. She wondered if this was how things were always going to be between them: estranged family that knew each other too well to default to cordiality. Just a chasm of distance between them. 

When Celine lowered her glasses to press a finger to her temple, it was then that Rumi noticed the frustration and helplessness on his face. She’s just as lost as me. She also is struggling, Rumi realized. Her mentor leaned forward on her desk, fixing Rumi in place with her stare. There might be something like love in it. 

“Rumi, please.” She begged, her voice low in her throat. It didn’t shake. “It’s difficult for me to find the right words, I am trying.”

She didn’t respond, just waited with her mouth shut. 

“When I last saw you, the situation was dire. The world was ending, but still all I could think about you.” Her voice cracked, her eyes misty. “I love you, Rumi. Dearly. And it’s not just because you’re your mother’s daughter. You are a difficult child not to love.” 

It would be easy to take those words for what they were on the surface. Love from Celine was all she wanted, but she wanted things to be different, not a return to the pretense she was just a normal girl, that her patterns were invisible, because Celine was still avoiding her eyes from those open patterns on her skin. 

“Do you love me for who I am? Or for who you want me to be?” Rumi forced the words out of her throat. 

“I love you.” She answered unflinchingly; that lifted a weight in her heart that had been bothering her for a long time. “Everything I’ve known about demons convinced me otherwise, but you alone--. I’m trying, Rumi. To understand and accept you, but I didn’t want to force you. Seeing you hurt broke my heart.” Celine looked at her and Rumi wondered if it was the first time she’d seen her and wasn’t looking through her like she was an afterimage. “It’s my mistakes, my failures as your guardian that hurt you. I have no excuse” 

There was a lump in her throat. She opened her mouth, trying to speak but her voice wouldn’t come. Celine was watching, looking serene, but her white-knuckled hands betrayed her. That gave Rumi the revitalized confidence to speak up. “Celine, you’re my mentor. You’re the closest thing I’ve had to a mother. I want to trust you and accept me, but I don’t think I trust you right now.” 

Her outward demeanor didn’t shift, but Rumi knew she was crestfallen. She pulled herself into something more reserved, the pain shrouded away. It resembled her PR face, the one that didn’t betray an emotion, her eyes deadened. “I understand, Rumi.”

“We need to work together, demons remain a threat to mortalkind and the Honmoon is still frail and damaged.” 

"Of course.” 

“But I want to work on it with you.” Rumi emphasized, her mentor’s face stayed still. “I care about you too. And maybe we can talk more about this later?” The crease between Celine’s brows softened. “I just, I feel that there’s a lot about demons we don’t understand. There’s gaps in our knowledge. I understand many of them are malicious and unfeeling, but there was a demon--.” Her voice trailed off as she reconsidered the thought. Jinu was beyond her reach. He’d been very singular, not a single demon she’d ever encountered before him or after him had ever come close. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter he’s gone.”

 “..Have you thought about reviewing some previous Hunters’ accounts to learn more about demons?” 

“I have, but there’s so many texts and I’m not sure where to begin.” 

“The library in the countryside has texts dating back to the first Hunters. It’s less in depth, but the language is less biased. It’s less focused on pure exorcism and more on identification and the physiology of demons.” Her mentor explained quietly, a distant look in her eyes. “Most of what I’ve taught you has been about what I believed to be most relevant to your Hunter education, but if you wish to understand more about demons, that’s where you should start.” 

“...Thanks, Celine.” 

“Of course. I could have some of the books delivered to your apartment this week. If you’d like.” She added awkwardly. 

“I think I’d need to look at the books myself to get an idea. We’re on hiatus, so it’s the perfect time.”

“Right.” Her mentor grimaced, shutting her eyes. 

Feeling brave, Rumi decided to take the chance, bracing herself. As a Hunter, she’d faced way worse odds. “If you have time, we could look together. I could use your experience.” 

“I-- yes, tell me when.” The older woman fumbled the papers in her hand, reclaiming them without her usual grace. It reassured Rumi, to know that Celine felt a little desperate like her to fix their relationship. Coughing, she cleared her throat. “What time would work best for you?”  

“This weekend? I had plans with the girls for the next few days and I have some preparations to make.” She faltered, stumbling over the words. “If that works for you.” 

Celine looked as relieved as Rumi felt. Her mentor glanced over her calendar, cross-referencing it with some emails on her phone and striking out a few dates then drawing a few arrows. Not faltering, she tapped at her computer before giving Rumi her full attention. “Yes, we can make that work.”

“Okay. Bye, Celine.” She finished awkwardly, shifting her weight between her legs, feeling slightly restless. Rumi was ready to race out of there like fire was on her heels.  

Her mentor gave her a tentative smile. “Bye, Rumi.”  

Backing out of the room, Rumi felt like her steps were lighter, like she was floating on air. Behind her, Celine's door was pushed fully open. After a few brief moments, she heard Celine’s typing resume but at a slower pace. It wasn’t perfect, not even close, but it felt like she was moving in the right direction. The feeling didn’t fade as she summarized the situation for the other girls, or as the sun dipped below the horizon. It warmed her until she fell asleep, finally resting peacefully for the first time in months. It felt like new beginnings.