Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rumi was sitting on her bed, running through verses of their band’s new song Takedown. Her and her friends had worked hard on writing it, but certain lines now hit Rumi in ways she didn’t expect. She looked over at the invitation note she received from Jinu earlier. His story had cracked her certainty: maybe demons weren’t just monsters. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find a way to fix the lyrics – the song’s rage felt dishonest. Ugh - Mira and Zoey are going to hate this. She crossed out another line. 

A soft knock snapped her back. She hid Jinu’s invitation behind her back and unlocked the door, surprised to see Mira on the other side.

“Oh hey, what are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep…” Mira mumbled.

“Ah, well if you’d like to come in…” Rumi started when the other woman quickly pushed past her into the bedroom.

“Since you want me to come in, I can stay for a bit."

Mira paused at the floor-to-ceiling windows, tracing the city lights with her gaze.

Rumi pressed her back against the wall, the invitation burning a hole in her palm. The silence stretched, thick with the distance that’d grown between them these last few days.

Celine’s voice buzzed in her mind: they will not understand, they will not accept you. She ached to blurt out her secret in some random lull between rehearsals—or amid the chaos of demon patrols—hoping it might slide by unnoticed. Even now the temptation crept up her throat.

Instead, she just watched Mira’s glossy red hair cascade down her back, admired the curve of her hip. She is so beautiful, Rumi thought, heart fluttering at the familiar comfort of her presence. Then the dread crept in: what if Mira doesn’t understand? What if she doesn’t care?

 “You seemed hesitant in the fight,” Mira said, turning. Her concern was sharp and direct. “Are you hurt?”

Rumi swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shrugged, forcing a smile. “But it’s nice to know you were watching my back.”

“Ugh, forget it.” Mira waved her hand and turned back to the window. Rumi seized the moment to inch closer to the bed, paper clutched in her palm.

Before Rumi could slip it under the mattress, Mira spun around. “I’m really good at reading people. You’re hiding something from us, Rumi—hiding something from me.” She strode over, flopped onto the bed with a grunt, and stared up at the ceiling.

Rumi shoved the note beneath the frame and sat beside her. “I’m not hiding anything, I promise,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’ve just been… off lately. It’s been hard to concentrate.”

The difficulty with concentrating wasn’t entirely a lie, she has found it hard to keep her mind on demon slaughter when fighting alongside her two best friends.

She remembered how at their first meeting she couldn’t take her eyes off of them. Mira’s high cheek bones, her silky hair, the way she held herself like she was royalty. Zoey’s dimples, her smooth skin, the way she confidently and casually touched her and Mira. The more she got to know them the more she noticed Mira’s tenderness, the shaking of her voice when she was being vulnerable. She noticed Zoey’s brilliance and her unapologetic concern for the people she cared about. Those things made it harder to hide and conceal, to create the arbitrary distance between them. 

Rumi had promised herself: no distractions. Their mission was too important, their bond too precious. Yet here she was, still stealing glances, still longing for a touch she convinced herself would never be anything more than friendly.

Mira kept her gaze on the ceiling.

“Soooo, something’s been distracting you?” she teased, voice playful.

Rumi froze beside her, heart pounding. I wish you knew how badly I want to touch you right now.

Mira sat up, shifting closer until their shoulders brushed.

“You know you can trust me,” she said, warm and steady.

Rumi met her eyes and offered a pained smile.

“I know.” Years of shame had taught her that hatred was stronger than love. Even with Mira, letting go of that shame felt terrifying.

A soft brush against her hand jolted her back. Mira’s pinky traced a careful line over her own. The intentionality of it sent shivers up Rumi’s spine. Zoey’s touches could be shrugged off as casual, but Mira never did anything by accident.

Mira’s voice was soft but insistent.

“I think I lost you there for a moment.” Her fingers inched farther along Rumi’s hand. “Are you here with me?” She tilted her head, smiling, but the intensity in her hazel eyes kept Rumi rooted in place.

Rumi stared down at their intertwined fingers, Mira’s question echoing in her mind: Are you here with me? Fuck.

There were moments like this, although never quite this intimate, where she could almost believe that her friends felt it too, this undeniable chemistry between them. Rumi wanted to change the subject, push Mira away, but her body betrayed her, she leaned into Mira’s side with a sigh.

Gently, Rumi let her fingers tangle with Mira’s. “There has been… something distracting me,” she whispered, voice low, eyes still cast downward.

Mira must have sensed the tremor in her, because she lifted her hand and cupped Rumi's cheek. Urging her gently to face her. 

“Mira?” Rumi breathed.

“Rumi.” Her name on Mira’s lips felt like confession—and permission.

Rumi’s heart thundered as she slid her hand into Mira’s red hair, tugging her closer. She pulled her into a kiss before she changed her mind. Before her brain could catch up to her body. Time stuttered as their lips met—soft, tender, the moment Rumi had dreamed of for so long.

Rumi had always been sure of her looks—her confidence rarely wavered. But around Mira and Zoey, she felt unsettled, second-guessing every glance and word because their opinions mattered so much.

Mira’s lips met hers so gently at first that Rumi thought she might pull away. That she was just being kind. But when she didn’t, something inside Rumi uncoiled. She deepened the kiss, and Mira answered in kind—slow, searching.

Rumi’s hand tightened in Mira’s hair, the soft urgency of it pulled them into the mattress. Rumi settled on top, holding herself up, trying not to overstep the invisible boundary, not lose the moment of closeness she felt like she had stolen.  But Mira's lips never left hers, matching her beat for bet. Her kisses growing hungrier, more demanding. 

They broke for a breath, when Mira's voice brushed her lips, low and warm. “I heard you singing—you sounded incredible.” She propped herself on one elbow, her mouth trailing kisses along Rumi’s neck.

Soft sighs fluttered between them as Mira pressed open-mouthed kisses to the tender skin, each breath igniting small sparks of pleasure. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” she murmured, her words vibrating against Rumi’s pulse.

Rumi got lost in sensation, the intimacy, Mira’s gentle insistence. Her fingers curled around Mira’s jaw, tilting her head until their lips met in a fierce, claiming kiss.

They sank back onto the bed, bodies flush, hearts drumming. The feeling of Mira beneath her was intoxicating. Rumi let herself claim the moment for herself, knee sliding up between Mira's legs. 

“Fuck, I want you,” Mira moaned, as she moved her hands down to Rumi’s ass and squeezed, yup that’s the Mira I know. Rumi rolled her hips, swallowing Mira's moan.

“You have me,” Rumi said breathlessly, she slipped her tongue into Mira’s mouth. Making her friend whine rhythmically into their kiss, her hips rising to meet Rumi’s trying to find more friction. Mira's hands slipped under Rumi's shirt. It made Rumi dizzy, lost in sensation. She craved more, and for a moment she forgot she couldn't have it. 

Mira’s hands were persistent on their way up Rumi’s body, unknowingly passing over the hidden patterns. Mira’s hands cupped Rumi’s breasts, thumbs grazing over hardened nipples. Rumi bent into her touch, jesus christ.

Mira bit Rumi’s bottom lip and tugged, fuck me.

Head spinning from pleasure, Rumi broke the kiss, “Mira…” she pulled away slightly, but Mira’s eyes were closed, she didn’t hear her. Mira’s hands moved the hem of Rumi’s shirt, trying to get rid of the fabric in the way of her exploration. Rumi stiffened at the sudden surge of fear, I can’t let her see.

Mira’s eyes flew open when she felt Rumi's lock up, “are you okay? What’s going on?” She met Rumi's panicked gaze.

“I… I can’t,” Rumi stammered, her fingers fumbling at the hem of her shirt.

Panic flashed across Mira’s face. “Fuck, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—if you weren’t okay—” She scrambled off the bed and pushed Rumi’s hand away, retreating toward the door.

“Mira, wait—no, it’s not what you think. You didn’t do anything wrong—” Rumi reached for her.

Mira shook her head, cutting her off. “I get it. This isn’t what you want.” She stood abruptly, straitening her clothes.

“Mira, please, I just…” Rumi’s words trailed off, she didn't know what to say. How to give Mira the reassurance she needed. 

Mira paused at the door and casting a desperate look back. “You just what?”

The words died on Rumi’s tongue, just what indeed? Just that I am part demon and you seeing my patterns might scare you, repulse you. Just that you touching my skin without knowing it’s secret makes me feel like a liar. She said nothing.

Mira's lips pressed into a thin line; she gave her a small nod. “It’s okay Rumi, I get it." She turned and stepped out of the room, the door shutting gently behind her.  

Chapter Text

They sprinted through the city streets toward the train station, Rumi’s lungs burned from the excretion. A major breach in the Honmoon’s defenses had left the platform swarming with demons—and innocent commuters in the crossfire.

 For days now Mira had slipped out of every private conversation, only offering polite smiles when Zoey was around. Rumi’s chest tightened with guilt. She didn’t know how to make things right without baring her whole truth—and revealing her demonhood struck her as more dangerous than this cold distance. She told herself that this strain, this temporary pain, was the lesser evil. Mira would forgive her eventually. Or at least… that’s what she desperately wanted to believe.

Rumi’s head was spinning, she didn’t know how to make sense of her conversations with Jinu, how to feel about her own identity and what it meant to be a hunter. She was supposed to hate him, but instead she felt compassion, even a fierce protectiveness. He was the only person, demon, she could trust with her real self.

When they finally caught up with the train and they were severely outnumbered. The fight exploded around them: Zoey dove in head first, her daggers flashing between strikes, Mira’s spear spun in precise, lethal sweeps—and Rumi… Rumi got stuck in hear head. She stumbled. Her strikes came too slow, her footwork unsteady, as self-doubt tangled every blow. In the roar of battle, she felt her confidence fray, her secret and her fear bearing down on her.

Mira’s voice cut through the noise of the moving train. “What’s the deal with you?!” She held two demons at bay, every motion controlled and lethal. Zoey was right behind her, making quick work of the demons flanking them.

This was the first time Mira addressed her directly in the last week.

“Mira, I just don’t feel good about the song!” Rumi yelled, driving her sword into a demon’s stomach and watching it vanish in a swirl of smoke.

“I’m not talking about the song—I’m talking about you. What are you hiding from us?” Mira yelled back.

Zoey’s eyes flicked between.

Rumi tried to move away, but Mira’s hand shot out, seizing her shoulder in a rough, insistent grip—nothing like the gentle touch from the other night. “Tell us what’s going on,” she demanded, yanking Rumi around until their eyes met. “Right now.”

“Not everything is about your insecurities, Mira!” Rumi spat, the words tasting bitter the instant they left her mouth.

She regretted them the moment Mira’s eyes shifted from anger to hurt Mira's hand slipped off her shoulder, dropping by her side. 

“Mira… I didn’t mean—” Rumi tried to back track.

“Would you two stop fighting and look?” Zoey yelled, her voice cracking like a whip. They both whirled to the platform’s edge and froze. A massive tear in the Honmoon barrier yawned open, and hundreds of faceless demons tumbled out, trampling each other in their rush. Shit.

Mira squared her shoulders and stepped forward first. “If you’re with us, prove it.” Her voice rang final and resolute

All of their songs, three chord harmonies, both Mira and Zoey relying on Rumi’s powerful voice to gather power from the Honmoon. Zoey’s daggers flew as she gracefully weaved and dodged the demon’s assault, demon after demon disappearing into puffs of smoke. Rumi loved watching her fight, she was graceful and deadly, you could tell how strong she was despite her unassuming stature.

Then it was Rumi’s turn. She raised her sword as the first notes slipped from her lips—only to nearly choke on the words. The lyrics sounded hollow, steeped in a hatred she couldn’t summon. She raised her sword, the song flowed from her lips but her heart wasn’t in it, she could deceive her friends but she could not deceive ancient magic.

Her weapon flickered and disappeared just as a large demon lurched forward smashing into her. Rumi fell on her back defenseless. Demons used the opening to swarm the train car completely.

“Rumi!” Mira and Zoey called out in unison.

Zoey leaped in front of her, daggers fanning out to deflect a demon’s claws and buying Rumi a heartbeat to scramble upright. With a single fluid stroke, Zoey slashed from the creature’s belly to its throat—poof, it vanished in a swirl of smoke.

Mira sprang up next, driving her spear into the platform. A pulse of Honmoon magic rippled outward, disintegrating the rest of the horde in a blinding flash. Rumi stared at Mira, bracing herself for cold fury, but found only hurt and confusion in her friend’s eyes. Regret stabbed at her chest—she never wanted Mira to look so betrayed.

She pushed to her feet, every muscle protesting, and then remembered the passengers. “The passengers!” she gasped.

They dashed into the nearest car, only to find it eerily empty—benches overturned, bags and coats scattered.

A heavy silence settled over the train roof as they stepped out onto the station, wordless and defeated. Mira turned away, she spoke low, as though trying to hide the tremble in her voice “Whatever you think about the song it doesn’t matter right now, everything is at stake and we just need to get through this… Together.”

Zoey stepped closer, taking Rumi’s hand. “You know I’m always on your side,” she said, voice tight. “But right now…it’s hard to understand. We can’t win without your voice.” She squeezed once, then let go, leaving Rumi skin aching with the absence of her touch.

I wish I could tell you, but the best I can do right now is find a way to set things right. She watched Mira and Zoey walk away.

Chapter Text

Rumi perched on the edge of the leather couch, fingers drumming out a familiar rhythm. The studio felt too still—every amp and mic stand like silent witnesses. Two days until the show, and the only thing louder than the empty room was the silence between her and the girls.

She had taken an oath, to seal the Honmoon and purge demons from the human world. Yet she realized that what it took to kill was the very hate to made demons monsters. She struggled with the duality of it, if they could feel, how different could they truly be? Or did she only feel a kinship with Jinu, because she too was a monster? 

Her resolve waivered, tugging at her heart. The door clattered open.

Mira and Zoey entered together.

“Hey Rumi!” Rumi could tell Zoey was trying to be light and friendly like nothing had happened. Mira hesitated at the doorway, eying Rumi wearily.

“Hi Zoey… hi Mira,” Rumi said, hopeful that at least this forced meeting can break the ice between them. Looking at her friends now she realized how much she had missed them. All these late nights with Jinu, the sneaking around, the secret keeping had distracted her from the people she loved the most.

Zoey came up behind the couch and folded Rumi into a hug, their cheeks pressing tightly together in a familiar, grounding, warmth.

“I’ve missed you,” Zoey relaxed her hug and pressed a light kiss to Rumi’s cheek. The tip of her nose brushed against skin as she leaned-in to whisper, “You should probably talk to Mira after this meeting.”

Her breath felt warm, she placed a second kiss right below Rumi’s ear and pulled away with an innocent giggle. Rumi’s cheeks flushed—leaving her flustered. Why does Zoey always do this to me?

Across the room, Mira watched with an amused smile and settling onto the couch opposite Rumi.

Just then, Zoey’s phone rang. She glanced down, “it’s Bobby!” she picked up.

After a quick exchange - “Oh, oh okay, no problem I will be there within an hour,” she spoke quickly and hung up.

“Ugh, I have to go, Bobby needs me,” she grabbed her bag.

Mira’s posture straightened, “Hold on, what? You are leaving? What did he say?”

Zoey smiled. “He only needs one of us. He got caught by the media near headquarters, and he thinks it’ll be good publicity if one of us jumps in on the interview with him.”

Mira narrowed her eyes, “I have a feeling you’re only suggesting that so Rumi and I end up alone together.”

Rumi laughed softly, “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

Zoey shrugged, “Maybe, but you’ll never know.” She dashed for the door. “Please figure this out,” she called over her shoulder, then closed it behind her.

“And then there were two.” Rumi met Mira’s gaze. “Can we please talk? I feel awful about what I said the other day.” She leaned forward. “I want you to know how I really feel.”

Mira raised an eyebrow. “And how is that?” she asked, folding her arms.

Rumi noticed Mira’s chest rising and falling in quick rhythms, her eyes soft with worry. Maybe I am not the only one with a lot on my mind?  

Mira cut her off before Rumi could answer

“I know our faults and fears must never be seen,” she said, her voice deliberate. “I’m difficult, Rumi—overly blunt, short-fused, highly aggressive…”

Rumi’s chest tightened at the confession. She stepped forward until he was standing in front of Mira.

“My whole life, those things felt like liabilities,” Mira went on, gaze flicking up to meet Rumi’s. “But somehow—with Zoey, with you—they’re okay. I would hate for happened between us that night to stand in the way of our friendship…”

Before Mira could finish, Rumi pressed both hands to her shoulders and gently leaned her back into the cushions. Mira's breath caught in surprise but didn’t pull away. Rumi climbed into her lap, leaning in until her lips brushed Mira's ear.

“I changed my mind,” she breathed, voice husky. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I want to show you.”

The air between them shifted, charged with the memory of that night. Mira’s breath hitched, surprise melting into something softer and warmer. Her fingers tucked into the waistband of Rumi’s jeans.

“Okay, then show me,” Mira’s eyes met Rumi’ in a challenge.

“Have I told you how pretty you are?” Rumi started. She is so fucking pretty.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk."

She brought her thumb to Rumi’s mouth, the pad of her finger brushing Rumi’s lower lip in a teasing caress. Rumi’s pulse fluttered; she parted her lips, brushing her tongue against Mira’s skin, tasting. Mira’ mouth parted lightly in enjoyment.

Rumi was eager to please; she licked the length of Mira’s thumb, then closed her mouth around it and sucked.

“That’s a good girl,” Mira breathed. That did a lot more for Rumi than she would have liked to admit.

Mira withdrew her finger and let her hands drift to the buttons on Rumi’s jeans. Before she could unfasten them, Rumi’s fingers curled around her wrists.

“Not yet,” Rumi whispered. She leaned in and pressed a messy, urgent kiss to Mira’s lips.

She trailed kisses along her friend’s jaw, down her neck. She felt Mira squirm under her.

“I need you to sit still,” Rumi rolled her hips down to hold her in place.

“Fuck,” Mira moaned.

Rumi’s hands found the edge of Mira’s shirt and pulled it up and off onto the floor; the bra followed suit. Without hesitation she leaned forward, taking a nipple into her mouth, tongue swirling around the hardened peak.

“Ahh, Rumi…” Mira’s eyes fluttered shut as Rumi’s lips trailed across her chest.

“Please, can I touch you?” Mira whined, how I wish you could.

Rumi hummed in response, pretending to consider, before moving on to the other nipple. The vibration made Mira dizzy.

“No,” she said, letting go of the peak with a wet pop, bringing her mouth back to Mira’s lips.

Mira grunted in frustration.

Rumi felt Mira’s thighs clasp tight together, she was squirming again. I didn’t know she was so impatient.

Mira’s hands were between them again but this time she was undoing her own pants. Rumi smiled into the kiss. Message received.

In a smooth motion Rumi moved off of Mira’s lap and onto the floor. She pulled on her friend’s pants, helping her tug them down.

“Those too?” Rumi’s fingers hooked into the band of silky underwear. Mira nodded covering her face in embarrassment as Rumi removed already damp fabric, “I think you like me,” she said smugly.

“Ugh, shut up and touch me already” Mira whined.  

Rumi spread her open slowly, holy shit. She leaned in and licked the length of Mira’s dripping heat.

“I love how you taste,” Rumi said, voice low. Her mouth hungry for more, she leaned in again, another long stroke.

“Ahh.. Rumi…ahhh… fuck!” Mira moaned, hands digging into the cushions.

Rumi wrapped her arm around Mira’s right leg placing it gently on her shoulder, giving herself more room to work.

She was determined to explore every gasp and moan that left Mira's throat. She pressed open mouthed kisses to Mira’s clit, trailing down toward her entrance.

“What are you…?!” Mira gasped, she felt Rumi’s tongue slip inside of her. Mira’s eyes rolled to the back of her head.  

Then something came over her, “I saw how you looked at Zoey, how… ah… how embarrassed you looked…ah… shit… do you want to do this to her too?” Mira said breathlessly, her eyes half closed with pleasure. Where is this all coming from?

Rumi pulled away, “Look at me,” she demanded, Mira’s eyes snapped open. I don’t get it, why is she asking me about Zoey?

Hesitating, Rumi moved back to Mira’s clit, slipping her thumb inside. Of course I want both of you.

Rumi pumped, pushing in deeper with every stroke. Her teeth grazed Mira’s swollen clit. Silent confessions swirled in her mind, I want you both to touch my body, I want you both to love me.

Mira’s movements became desperate, she was thrusting her hips, trying to increase the pace, to feel Rumi deeper “Ahh.. answer me,” she panted.

“Yes,” Rumi answered truthfully. She replaced her thumb with two fingers, sliding in easily into the soaked center.

“Oh my god,” Mira yelped, dizzy from the feeling of fullness inside her. Rumi pumped hard, feeling Mira’s walls starting to clench around her. She pressed Mira back further into the couch. 

“Yes what?” Mira was persistent, trying to keep her composure as she watched Rumi fuck her.

Rumi smiled and sat back a little watching Mira squirm on her fingers. She looked close to tears.

“I want both of you,” Rumi said confidently. She felt the heat pool between her own legs, having Mira like this in front of her, imagining Zoey in the same position…

“I would love to have both of you just like this,” Rumi said as her thumb brushing over Mira’s clit, fingers dragging slow in and out.

The words seemed to do the trick, sending Mira over the edge. Her back arched, her hips pushed forward into Rumi’s fingers. She shook hard as the orgasm washed over her entire body.

Holy shit, what a view.

 Rumi put her mouth on her friend one last time, feeling her cum.

“Fuck… Rumi,” Mira couldn’t catch her breath, “consider… the apology… accepted.”

Rumi pulled out her fingers slowly and crawled back up on the couch. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and gathered Mira into her arms. She pressed soft kisses to Mira’s forehead.

Mira melted into the embrace, her body going limp. “And how is it that I am sitting here ass naked while you are fully dressed?”

Rumi chuckled, the sound warm against Mira’s skin. “I’m sorry, we will have to save it for another time, Zoey might come back soon.”

She planted one last kiss against Mira’s temple, then rose and reached down to help gather the scattered clothes.                                         

            ~

Zoey stood back pressed against the studio door. One hand clasped tightly around her mouth, the other drawing fast circles around her clit. Her knees pressed together as she shook with pleasure,  her own orgasm ripping though her. She had texted Bobby earlier, letting him know they couldn’t make it to the interview and intended to stay to make sure Mira and Rumi made up.

This, hearing them, hearing her name, was not what she expected.   

Chapter Text

The Idol Awards were fast approaching, and the crowd had already begun to gather for the pre-show performances. Huntrix and Saja Boys were set to take the stage in just a few hours.

Last night, Rumi had finally found time to sit down with Mira and Zoey. After everything, they agreed—Takedown wasn’t the song to unite their fans. It had caused too much hurt between them. After the conversation Rumi finally felt a wave of relief. With her voice restored, she was confident: tonight, would be the night the Honmoon turned gold, and she would finally be free of her patterns.

She had spent her entire life hiding the purple marks that now stretched across her arms, back, and chest. She’d concealed them so thoroughly that her shame had nearly consumed her. They’re a reminder that I was born a mistake, she thought. But after tonight, everything will change.

An hour had passed since their final run-through of Golden. Rumi sat at one of the makeup stations tucked into the corner of the dressing room, watching Mira and Zoey adjust their stage outfits. Something about Zoey felt off—fidgety, distracted. Now that she thought about it, Zoey had been acting strange since last night. What is up with her?

When Rumi had stepped out of her changing room earlier, Zoey hadn’t run up to greet her, hadn’t offered a hug or even her usual sweet smile. Maybe she is just nervous about the show?

“Rumi, do you mind checking if any of the chains are twisted?” Mira called out, turning her back to Rumi.

Rumi blinked, pulled from her thoughts, and walked over.

“Of course,” she said, gently tracing her fingers along the dips and curves of the chains across Mira’s back. Their outfits were intricately designed, custom-made to complement one another—but god, they have so much crap attached to them.

Mira turned, hands resting her hands on the counter behind her. “Thank you,” she said, her smile easy, familiar. Then she leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you know what’s going on with Zoey?”

Phew. So it’s not just me. “No idea,” she mouthed back, her gaze drifting to Zoey.

Zoey was hunched over the makeup station mirror, fumbling with the zippers on her top. The zippers on each side ran diagonally along her ribs, and the left one had jammed halfway up. Her quiet huffs of frustration were growing louder, sharper.

“Zoey, hey—let me help,” Rumi offered gently.

For the first time that day, Zoey looked at her. She didn’t speak, just kept tugging at the zipper, eyes flicking to Rumi as she approached.

“The zipper’s stuck,” she muttered, still trying to force it.

Rumi stepped closer and placed a hand on Zoey’s upper arm, nudging her to turn around. Zoey went rigid. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she pivoted in a tight circle to face Rumi.

“It’s really okay, I think I almost got it…” Zoey spoke quickly, her voice tight with effort—but she fell silent the moment Rumi’s fingers took over. With practiced ease, Rumi tugged the zipper outward, then down, freeing the bit of fabric that had snagged. She unzipped the shirt all the way to the bottom before gliding it back up, her fingertips brushing softly against Zoey’s ribs and the edge of her collarbone.

Rumi was focused, intent on the task—until she noticed something strange. Zoey wasn’t moving. Wait… is she even breathing?

A flicker of realization bloomed in Rumi’s chest. She’d always been the one flustered by Zoey’s casual touches, left blushing while Zoey played it cool. Could this be my moment to return the favor?

A slow, smug smile curved Rumi’s lips. She stepped in closer, hands bracing on the counter, boxing Zoey in. Zoey backed up instinctively, her lower back hitting the counter with a soft thud. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Rumi caught Mira watching them, arms folded, head tilted with quiet curiosity.

“That wasn’t so hard,” Rumi murmured, leaning in until their faces were only inches apart. “Anything else I can help you with?”

She’s so cute when she’s flustered. How did I miss out on this?

Zoey’s breath hitched, face turning crimson. “I… um… Ru—Rumi?” she stammered, eyes looking anywhere but at her.

Rumi’s smugness faltered. 

Her brows drew together in concern. “Zoey?” she asked softly, pulling back and dropping the teasing tone. “Listen, I didn’t mean to…” Her voice trailed off as she stepped away, giving Zoey space

But something stopped her cold. She looked up—and Zoey’s eyes were locked on hers, unreadable, intense. Her hands were gripping the diamond-studded lapels of her jacket.

What the—

Zoey pulled Rumi into a kiss. It was hard, sudden, and Rumi stumbled, one hand landing against the counter, the other clutching Zoey’s jacket for balance. Her eyes stayed wide open.

Am I kissing Zoey?

She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Zoey pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, lips parted, breath shaky. Then she leaned in again—this time slower, deeper.

Okay. Fuck. I’m kissing Zoey.

Rumi’s body responded before her mind could catch up. She kissed back, pressing closer, and Zoey let out a tiny, involuntary moan that sent a shiver down Rumi’s spine.

“Holy shit!” Mira’s voice cut through the moment. She stepped forward, grinning. “I fucking knew it. I knew it, Zoey!”

Zoey pulled away, startled, and Rumi’s lips instinctively chased hers—until reality snapped back into place. Mira was still in the room. Watching.

“I totally knew you were sweet on Rumi. All those cheeky little kisses—come on…” Mira teased, stepping into Zoey’s reach. Which was a mistake. 

But before she could finish, Zoey released Rumi’s lapels and grabbed a fistful of Mira’s shirt, yanking her forward. She paused, lips hovering just shy of contact.

“Shut up.”

She rose onto her tiptoes and closed the distance.

Mira didn’t hesitate. She kissed back instantly.

Rumi’s mouth dropped open. She was standing so close she could feel the heat radiating off them, her gaze locked on the kiss. These two will be the death of me, she thought, dazed.

Mira’s arm slid around Zoey’s waist, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet intensity. Her other hand reached for Rumi’s, fingers intertwining in a silent tether between them.

When Mira finally pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, her breath uneven. She turned to Rumi with a glint of mischief in her eyes, then gently lifted Rumi’s chin, closing her still-gaping mouth.

“There we go,” she hummed, her thumb brushing Rumi’s jaw.

Zoey lunged forward, wrapping both Mira and Rumi in a fierce hug. “You two mean so much to me,” she said, breathless.

For a moment, the world quieted. Zoey’s voice softened into the space between them. “I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere.” She pressed gentle, closed-mouth kisses to their shoulders. “But with you two… it feels like I’m finally home.”

“I feel that way too,” Rumi whispered, her heart full - 

—just as a loud knock shattered the stillness.

The door flew open. Bobby burst in, wild-eyed. “Girls! Saja Boys are fighting—your performance got pushed up!” He motioned frantically for them to follow and disappeared down the hall.

The three of them stared at each other, stunned.

Mira grinned. “Those boys are going down!”

“Come on!” Zoey’s voice rang excitedly; she hung off of Mira’s arm as they jogged down the corridor together.

Rumi lingered at the doorway, her chest rising with a deep breath. This is it. I can finally be free.

She followed after them.

Chapter Text

This was Rumi, Mira, and Zoey’s best performance of Golden yet. Months of relentless practice had honed their movements to perfection, but tonight, something in the air between them shimmered with new electricity. Their music radiated light, as if each note was sung straight from their hearts into the hearts of the fans, their harmonies wrapping around them in threads of living magic. The Honmoon pulsed beneath their feet, ancient and alive, responding to their voices with a hum that vibrated through their bones.

Zoey and Mira had slipped off the stage in time for Rumi’s solo. Rumi sang with her whole being. The gold becoming brighter and brighter with every note. During her aerial number, she soared above the crowd, reaching out to touch the tapestry she and her friends had woven with their voices. Gold—it really is turning gold.

She kept singing, her melody swelling with hope for all the good things still to come. When she touched back down on center stage, dazed and glowing from the energy of the fans, one truth rang clear in her chest: I really can be free.

It was time. Mira and Zoey were supposed to join Rumi on stage, their cue aligned with the rise of the chorus. Rumi turned toward the crowd, head held high, heart steady, waiting for her friends to step into the light beside her.

Then—darkness.

The entire theater went black in an instant. A hush fell over the crowd, thick and uncertain. The music shifted. A low, familiar pulse began to play—Takedown. First quiet, then swelling, echoing through the space.

Rumi froze.

What?

Her breath caught.

Takedown? They put this back in?

Disbelief hit first, then the sting of betrayal.

They went behind my back.

Why?

The music didn’t stop. It surged forward, relentless. She felt them—Mira and Zoey—behind her, like they’d materialized from the shadows. She didn’t turn. Couldn’t.

The lights snapped back on, red and white strobing from every direction. Her body moved on instinct, choreography etched into muscle memory. They’d rehearsed this song endlessly during its creation, until every lyric, every step, had become second nature.

But now the words felt painful, tearing themselves from her throat as she forced them up.

The music that once empowered them, now sounded cutting, a betrayal spoken into lyrics once forged by friendship.

She stepped closer to Zoey—

A shove. Hard.

“Zoey?” Her voice cracked.

Another shove, this time from behind. Mira.

“Mira?” Rumi stumbled forward, stunned.

Neither of them flinched. They kept singing, eyes locked on her, voices unwavering.

The lyrics landed like acid.

Corrosive. Intentional.

And Rumi stood in the center of it all, unraveling.

Rumi flinched as Mira brushed past her, both women now circling like predators beneath the spotlight. The light had intensified—blinding, isolating—so bright she could no longer see the audience.

Then Zoey reached out, grabbed the shoulder of Rumi’s jacket, and yanked. “Please! Don’t!” Rumi whimpered, frozen in place. Mira seized the other side and pulled, exposing Rumi’s bare, patterned shoulders. Together, they stripped the jacket from her body and tossed it to the floor.

How did they find out?

Did they know this whole time?

Rumi couldn’t hear anything beyond the roar of blood in her ears. Her thoughts spun, tangled. She tried to cover herself, arms flailing, body twisting—like a wild animal cornered, desperate to hide. Her eyes searched Zoey and Mira’s faces for something familiar, something kind.

There was nothing.

Only coldness. Indifference. Hate.

Celine was right.

Her heart clenched, threatening to stop. She couldn’t take it. She needed to run—but there was nowhere to go.

Mira appeared behind her, whispering, “I see who you really are.”

Rumi turned, but Mira was gone—just empty space.

Then Zoey stepped in from the other side.

“You are a demon,” she hissed.

No. No. No.

“A mistake!” Mira and Zoey roared in unison. “You’ve been one since the day you were born!”

Rumi screamed.

Her voice cracked open the air, unleashing waves of demonic energy that surged through the Honmoon in rippling bursts of purple light. The force of it shattered every light in the stadium. Darkness swallowed her whole.

I need to run. I need to get out of here.

So she did.

She staggered down the stairs at the back of the stage, barely upright, adrenaline burning through her veins like fire. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her vision blurred.

At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped—frozen.

Mira and Zoey were standing there.

“What? How are you here?” Her voice trembled. “You were just on stage…”

Then it hit her. A thread of hope.

“That wasn’t you? Oh, thank goodness,” she cried, stepping toward them, heart lightening with relief.

They stepped back. Just a small, hesitant retreat. But the message was unmistakable: stay away.

Mira and Zoey had never seen Rumi like this. Or maybe—maybe they’d never truly seen her at all.

“How do you have patterns?” Zoey asked first. Her voice was steady, but her eyes shimmered with hurt.

Mira said nothing. She stood watching, as she does. 

Rumi looked down at her hands, turning them over and over. The patterns had spread. They covered her now—completely.

Shit.

“You don’t understand,” she pleaded, voice cracking. “These were supposed to be gone. You were never supposed to see.”

“You were hiding this from us?” Mira’s voice was laced with pain. “This whole time?”

No. Please don’t do this.

“I had a plan,” Rumi rushed out. “Jinu was supposed to—”

But her words felt lifeless. They dropped on the floor like lead.

“Jinu?” Zoey’s voice sharpened. Her eyes turned cold. “You’re working with him?”

“No! No! No!” Rumi stepped forward, hands reaching out, desperate. “I was using him to fix all this. To fix me. So we could do our duty. So we could be strong. Be together.”

“How could we be together if we can’t tell your lies from your truths, Rumi?” Zoey snapped.

I can’t lose them… not like this…

“I knew it,” Mira whispered, and Rumi could hear her heart break in real time.
“I knew it was too good to be true.” She couldn’t even look at her.

“Mira, no! Please don’t do this!” Rumi’s voice cracked, her body trembling. “Didn’t you see? See the gold? We were so close!” She wanted to drop to her knees and beg.

“Mira, you know me! I know you do!”

But the fight was already lost. She saw it in their faces—closed, distant, afraid.

“No! Don’t leave!” Her voice shattered.

“DON’T LEAVE ME! I CAN FIX IT!”

The scream tore through the Honmoon, releasing a wave of purple energy. The shimmering blue lines of the barrier fizzled into dust, dissolving into violet mist. She was breaking the very thing she’d worked so hard to build.

Mira and Zoey looked terrified. They had never seen a demon with power like this.

Rumi stepped forward, desperate. Mira’s face twisted with pain as she raised her weapon; blade pointed at Rumi’s heart.

Just like that. I lost them.

Rumi felt sick. The ache in her chest climbed up her throat, suffocating.

She turned to Zoey—her constant, her light. The one who had always stood beside her. Always eager. Always loyal.

“Zoey… please…” Her voice was hollow. A ghost of itself.

Zoey looked away. Then summoned her weapons.

That was it.

Rumi turned and ran. She left behind the two people she loved most.

Her goal now was clear.

She had to find Jinu.

Chapter Text

The rumble of the train tracks jolted Rumi awake. Just hours ago, she’d been wrapped in warmth, love, and the fragile promise of freedom. Now, everything felt fractured. The lesson was reinforced once again, good things didn’t last and everything, inevitably, falls apart.

The hurt in Mira’s eyes haunted her. Her own chest ached, muscles sore from tension and grief. As the countryside rolled past, home felt close and memories flooded in.

Jinu’s voice cut though the quiet.

“It was all a lie,” his eyes glowed yellow, “Things I said, I just needed you to trust me.” He spat. 

“No, no! I know your story, you were a good person, and you still are, you just made a mistake.” Rumi pleaded, she couldn’t reconcile the person she trusted with the one standing in front of her.

Jinu’s expression hardened.

“I left them, I only made a deal with Gwi-Ma to get myself out of that miserable life.”

He didn’t trade his soul for his family, he traded his soul for his own comfort.

A selfish choice, but a human one.  

“That’s not all you are!” she cried.

She wasn’t sure if she said it for his sake, or because she wanted to believe it for herself. She’d grown to care for him. To see him as a friend. If he wasn’t all bad… maybe she wasn’t either.

“You are a demon just like me, all we get to do is live with our pain, our misery,” he looked down at her, his eyes cold, “That’s all we deserve.”

Every word flew like a dagger through Rumi’s already bleeding heart.

Then he vanished—smoke curling in the air where he’d stood.

And Rumi was alone again.

As much as Rumi wanted to believe otherwise, the truth was undeniable. She was a monster—whether she chose it or not. Life had already carved that path for her, and now it was out of her hands. She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. Not Mira. Not Zoey. But the damage was done, and all she wanted now was for Celine to end the legacy of pain that haunted her.

The train screeched to a halt at a familiar countryside station, just over an hour outside the city. Even here, the Honmoon was deteriorating. Rumi could feel it—the demons pulsing beneath the surface, waiting to break free. She shivered. I hate this. Dust clung to her boots as she walked the unpaved road into town, each step heavier than the last. She knew where to find Celine: the ancient shrine beneath the giant tree, its bark wrapped in protective amulets left by generations of guardians. If Honmoon had any strength left, it would be there. It was probably the safest place to be.

Celine turned at the sound of footsteps, startled, her scythe raised in defense. “Rumi?” Her voice cracked, and Rumi saw the storm of emotions flicker across her aunt’s face—fear, confusion, and finally relief.

“I thought I could fix it,” Rumi said, her voice trembled. “Fix me. But I ran out of time.” She stepped into the light, arms spread wide, revealing what she had become. Purple patterns ran from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. Her right arm was warped, fingers curled into claws, and her left eye glowed a piercing yellow.

“They saw,” she whispered, the pain tightening in her chest. “They know. There’s no hiding it anymore.” A sigh escaped her lips. “This is what I am.”

“Rumi, no!” Celine rushed forward, her eyes feverishly tracing the glowing lines on Rumi’s skin. Her hands hovered, unsure whether to reach out or recoil.

“You knew I was a mistake from the very start,” Rumi said, the thought has become an assertion. She reached for the Honmoon. It pulsed faintly beneath her touch, and her sword materialized in her hand—its glow tinged pink instead of its usual white. She knelt at her aunt’s feet, head bowed, the blade extended in offering.

“Do what you should have done a long time ago,” she whispered, “before I destroy what I swore to protect.”

The sword trembled in her grip, heavier than it had ever been. Celine didn’t move.

“Please,” she said softly.

Still, nothing.

“Do it!” Her voice cracked like thunder, reverberating through the shrine and out into the fields. The shockwave tore through the Honmoon’s outer edges, shredding through and weakening what little protection remained.

Celine flinched at the sound. She dropped to her to her knees, hand landing on Rumi’s shoulders.

“When we lost your mother,” she said, “I swore to protect what was left of her.”

Her hands fell into her lap, helpless. “I just never imagined that would be a child like you.”

She looked up, her hand hovered just shy of Rumi’s face. Her fingers shook, suspended in hesitation.

“Everything I was taught told me you were wrong,” she continued, “but I made a promise. So I tried. I tried to accept you. To help you.”

“Accept me?” Rumi’s voice sharpened, something bitter rising in her throat.

Oh, that’s rich.

She stood abruptly, the sword still glowing in her hand. “You told me to cover up. To hide.”

“Yes!” Celine rose with her, unfazed by the fury in Rumi’s voice. “And we still can.” She slipped the shawl from her shoulders and wrapped it around Rumi, her movements gentle, protective.

“We can cover those up and put everything right again,” she said, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll tell Mira and Zoey this was all an illusion. A trick by Gwi-Ma to tear us apart.”

Rumi stared at her, stunned. She cannot be serious. She backed away, the realization settling deep in her bones.

I will never be enough.

“Rumi, we can still fix this!” Celine’s voice was panicked, her arm half-extended—reaching for her niece, yet bracing against her, as if unsure which instinct to follow.

“Don’t you get it?” Rumi shouted, her left eye blazing brighter, the patterns on her skin flaring violet. “This is what I am!” The air around her pulsed with energy, the Honmoon groaning under the pressure. “Look at me!”

But Celine couldn’t. Her gaze stayed locked on the ground, head shaking slowly.

“Why can’t you look at me?” Rumi’s voice broke, tears streaking down her cheeks. “Why couldn’t you love me?”

“I do!” Celine cried, but her eyes never lifted.

“All of me!” Rumi’s control slipped. Her markings glowed, and the Honmoon wavered again—its protective aura thinning, demons pressing closer to the surface.

“This,” Celine whispered, clutching her head with trembling hands, “this is why we have to hide it. Our faults, our fears—they must never be seen. It’s the only way to protect the Honmoon.”

Rumi stared at her, breath ragged, heart hollow. And suddenly, she understood.

Fear.

She felt sorry for the old woman, the fear she shut inside was all that there was left now. Rumi knew exactly how that felt. Celine will never be free of that. All of the hiding, the pretending, her fated path to salvation was just another noose wrapped around her throat.

“If this is the Honmoon I am supposed to protect,” Rumi breathed, voice steady now, “I am glad to see it destroyed.”

Power coiled inside her, no longer something to suppress. For the first time, she tapped into it willingly—and vanished.

She had never felt this way before. Whole. Her energy surged through her limbs, unbound and alive. It had always been there, hidden even from herself. She closed her eyes and let instinct guide her. Her mother’s grave. That’s where she needed to be.

She reappeared before the weathered stone, cracked and worn by time. Kneeling, she touched it gently with her fingertips. Her mother had loved a monster. Had brought one into the world.

How did you do it? Rumi wondered. How did you have the strength to see through someone’s flaws, flaws so undeniable that they were written into their skin?

Her thoughts drifted to Mira and Zoey.

Mira who spent nights crying after her parents shut her out. She heard her sobs night after night through the shared wall of their bedrooms. Yet every morning, she emerged with a lightness that defied the weight she carried.

Zoey who had always apologized for her mere existence, like her presence was a slight on everyone in the room. She trembled with fear before every performance and retched in the bathroom after.

All that suffering—silent, unseen, unspoken

I love them, Rumi thought. Despite their flaws. Is that all it takes? Love? Love so strong that the hidden things, the broken things, start to belong? Become lovely?

She sat down, back resting against the gravestone, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. She had always been told what she was—by Celine, by Jinu, by prophecy. A monster. But now, she understood.

If any part of me is to be a monster, she thought, it will be of my own doing.

She had clung to her shame so tightly it had become both her shield and her prison. It wasn’t that Mira and Zoey hadn’t accepted her she realized—it was that she had never let them. She had made the choice for them.

I need to help them, she thought. And I hope they’ll choose to help me.

Rumi stood slowly, brushing the dust from her pants. She looked down at the grave one last time.

“Thanks, Mom,” she whispered.

                                                                        ~

Mira and Zoey walked in silence down the street toward the city square. Neither had spoken since Rumi ran. The weight of it all pressed down on them—too heavy to name.

Suddenly, the ad screens lining the buildings flickered and switched to a live broadcast. A voice rang out, unnaturally cheerful:

“Due to the Huntrix public breakup on stage, the Idol Awards have been cancelled. Here are the winners of the international Idol Awards—artists of the year, Saja Boys…”

Jinu and Abby’s voices followed, bright and performative:

“Hey everybody, you must all be so sad about the Huntrix break-up—we are too. So to cheer everyone up, we’re doing a special live performance tonight. Midnight. Namsan Tower. Don’t miss it for the world.”

Mira and Zoey drifted into the crowd gathering on the main street. Beneath their feet, the Honmoon dissolved into purple ash, vanishing like memory.

“Honmoon is falling apart,” Zoey whispered, her voice trembling. “Gwi-Ma… he’s coming.”

Mira didn’t respond. She walked ahead, faster now, and Zoey struggled to keep up.

Rumi’s absence clawed at Mira’s chest. She remembered her friend’s steady touch, her dark, confident eyes, the safety she’d always offered. A shiver ran down her spine. Then came the voice—her own, cruel and familiar:

You thought she could love you? Thought you found a family? You don’t deserve one. You never have.

Mira stiffened. The truth was suffocating. Her body moved with the crowd, swept into the current. Headed toward Namsan Tower.

Zoey caught up and grabbed her shoulder. “What are we going to do without Rumi? All our songs are three-chord harmonies. How do we—”

“There is no we, Zoey!” Mira snapped, cutting her off. Her voice was hollow. “I don’t get to have a family.”

Zoey stood frozen. Then the voice came for her. You are too much and not enough. You’ll never belong anywhere. They would never want you. But I can give you a place to belong.

Her eyes went vacant. Her body moved on its own.

She joined the march toward Namsan Tower.

Chapter Text

The night had turned dark when Rumi got back into town. She moved with the crowd, a slow, pulsing river of bodies all converging on Namsan Tower. There was something wrong in the air—an eerie stillness beneath the noise. Fans stumbled forward in a trance, eyes wide and vacant, staring straight ahead as if pulled by invisible strings.

A shiver ran down Rumi’s spine. Then came the voice.

You are a demon. A mistake.

It was her own. Quiet. Persistent.

It felt like a thin, sharp wire was being wound around her soul.

Get... out... of... my head.

She fought it. Her limbs were heavy, her breath shallow, but she pushed forward. She found an entrance to the stadium and slipped inside, urgency driving her. If Mira and Zoey were caught in this trap, she didn’t want to think about what that would mean. 

Inside, everything burned.

Flames licked the edges of the stage, casting long shadows across the crowd. This was Gwi-Ma—the demon king. The one who had resisted the Honmoon for centuries. Now, with the barrier shattered, he stood unopposed. His presence was suffocating, blistering, absolute.

Okay, Rumi thought, here goes nothing.

She sang a single note. Barely a melody. But it was something.

The stadium fell silent.

“We are hunters, voices strong, slaying demons with our song. Fix the world and make it right, when darkness finally meets the light.”

She recited the words slowly. They felt familiar, yet foreign. She had spoken them countless times, lived by them, shaped her life around their promise. But now, everything had changed.

When did this get so complicated?

The words weren’t just a mission anymore. They were a mirror. She saw herself in them—both the light and the shadow. She understood now: sealing the darkness wasn’t enough. The hardest part was accepting it. Owning it.

She contained both. So did Mira. So did Zoey. So did everyone.

To make the perfect Honmoon wasn’t to sever the demon world—it was to reconcile those opposing forces within oneself.

“You come here, like this?” Gwi-Ma roared, his flames darkening to a bruised shade of purple. “You think you can fix the world? You can’t even fix yourself.”

“I can’t,” Rumi said flatly. And I don’t need to.

Her voice was steady. She couldn’t let him see the gamble she was taking.

“And now, everyone finally sees you for what you really are,” he thundered.

“They do.” I hope so.

“And the Honmoon is gone.” His voice dripped with satisfaction. Centuries of waiting, and now the moment was his.

“It is.”  Here goes nothing… “So we’ll have to make a new one.”

She tapped into the power blooming inside her.  She began to sing.

Her voice was raw, unfiltered—woven from truth she’d never dared to speak. Her heart reached for Mira and Zoey, hoping they could feel her intent, her apology, her love. The patterns on her skin shimmered to life, glowing in opal hues that shifted with her song—some light, some dark, all part of her.

She sang for them.

If this was her last song, let it be the one that reached them.

Her voice echoed through the stadium, cutting through the silence.

Huh. So this is what my voice really sounds like.

She felt strong. But she knew her voice wouldn’t be enough on its own.

Her heart clenched. Please. Please hear me. Please help me.

Then—she felt it.

A soft tug. Familiar magic. The kind that connects hearts.

They were here.

In the crowd.

Alive.

She spotted Mira to her right—eyes locked on Rumi, her steps purposeful, the spell clearly broken. Mira pushed through the crowd, cutting a path toward center stage. On her left, high in the stands, Rumi saw Zoey. Even from a distance, she could swear Zoey was smiling.

The melody had already been laid out. This was their moment to take over, to fill the song with their own voices. They’d done this a thousand times before, in the quiet of their studio, in the safety of shared rhythm. Rumi had gifted them her truth, her vulnerability, her hope. Now she waited for their harmony.

Zoey’s voice came first—high, soft, unmistakably hers. Rumi’s heart surged. The Honmoon stirred.

Then Mira’s voice joined—deep, grounded.

Yes. The Honmoon was responding.

Rumi summoned her weapon.

“Stop this song!” Gwi-Ma bellowed, his voice cracking the air like thunder.

But it was too late.

Rumi, Mira, and Zoey were armed. And no demon was going to stand in their way.

They moved fast, converging on Gwi-Ma from every direction. His flames flared violently, and he began spawning a horde—twisted shadow demons, malformed and shrieking. But the hunters’ voices only grew stronger, slicing through the chaos of mangled bodies.

Their harmony was clear. The words were set. Now all they had to do was win.

Blades flashed. Demons vanished in bursts of purple smoke. Rumi caught glimpses of fans blinking out of their trance, the soul-binding magic unraveling under the force of the hunters’ song.

When she reached Mira and Zoey, her breath caught. She pulled them into a fierce embrace.

I can’t believe I ever imagined letting you go.

She released them, hoping the small nod she gave conveyed everything she couldn’t say aloud.

They kept singing.

And then—others joined. A cascade of voices rising from the crowd. All of them singing. All of them choosing light.

The outcome was clear. Even with the Saja Boys fighting beside him, Gwi-Ma couldn’t match the power of thousands of human souls united in song.

Rumi glanced toward the edge of the stage, eyes landing on a familiar silhouette. She hoped that when the time came, Jinu would pick the right side.

Mira and Zoey flanked her. Rumi raised her blade, its edge gleaming as it pointed toward the heart of Gwi-Ma’s flame.

Checkmate.

~~~                 

Rumi had never changed in front of her friends before. And she wasn’t about to start now—not when she was only just beginning to feel like her body belonged to her again.

Zoey had burst out of the changing room minutes ago, wheezing with excitement. Mira had lingered, squeezing Rumi’s hand before following her out toward the pool. It had only been a few days since the battle with Gwi-Ma, and most of that time Rumi had spent curled up in her room.

They’d won. But losing Jinu didn't feel like a victory.

Flashes of the fight flickered behind her eyes—Gwi-Ma’s flames, Jinu’s expression as he shielded her. Pain. Care. Friendship.

She blinked hard. She knew that he had made his choice, that he is free now. Still, she wished she could have done more. 

Rumi undressed slowly, her fingers trembling. She stared at the skin revealed in the locker’s smudged mirror. The opal patterns looped and shimmered across her body— strange, impossible to ignore. She wasn’t used to seeing herself like this. She wasn’t sure she ever would be.

The creak of the pool door snapped her out of it. She slammed the locker shut and wrapped her arms around her chest.

Welp. This is embarrassing.

Footsteps echoed softly across the tile. She turned slightly, just enough to register the presence behind her—then gasped at the gentle touch on her back.

“Sorry,” Mira whispered. “It’s just me. I forgot my spare towel.”

Her voice was low, careful. “Is this… okay?”

Mira’s fingers traced the glowing patterns along Rumi’s shoulder blades, reverent and slow.

“Yes,” Rumi breathed.

She wasn’t touched often. And she’d never been naked in front of someone before. The sensation was electric—comforting and terrifying all at once. Mira’s touch felt good. Too good. But Rumi was nervous about what Mira was thinking.

Does she still want me? Even like this?

“They are beautiful,” Mira said in awe.

Rumi stiffened. She didn’t know how to accept the words, how to accept the beauty of the skin she still wasn’t sure how to inhabit.

Mira felt the tension and stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Rumi from behind. Her bare chest pressed gently into Rumi’s back.

Holy shit.

Rumi’s breath hitched, but after a moment, she let herself lean back – head resting on Mira’s shoulder. Relaxing into the warmth of the embrace.

“You’re perfect,” Mira murmured into her hair, nuzzling softly. “I love touching you.”

She pressed a series of chaste kisses to the curve of Rumi’s neck, starting just below her ear. She noticed that Rumi’s patterns shimmered just a tiny bit brighter – like her body was responding to the touch of her lips.

“Mira…” Rumi whimpered, eyes still closed, letting herself feel it. The closeness. The safety. The want.

“I like it when you say my name like that,” Mira murmured, smiling against Rumi’s skin. “I want you to say it again.”

Her hands traced slowly over Rumi’s stomach, fingertips feather-light. Then—playful, deliberate—she grazed her teeth along Rumi’s earlobe and gave it a gentle tug.

“Ahh… Mira…” Rumi whined, cheeks flushing with heat. It was embarrassing how little it took for Mira to unravel her, how easily her body responded to every touch, every word.

She let her arms fall away from her chest, no longer shielding herself. Her hands found Mira’s and rested atop them, following their path wherever they went. She pressed back lightly with her hips, urging Mira closer.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Mira’s hands moved to Rumi’s hips, pulling her in.

“Would you?” Rumi tried to sound annoyed, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her. It came out needy, breathless.

Mira stifled a laugh, her smile audible in the silence. Her hands pressed into Rumi’s sides, warm and steady, gliding upward with purpose. She paused just beneath Rumi’s ribs, fingers splayed, thumbs brushing the soft skin.

“I would,” Mira whispered, her lips grazing the shell of Rumi’s ear. “Again and again.”

Rumi shivered, her body arching slightly into the touch. She wanted to say something clever, something to deflect the heat rising in her chest—but all she managed was a soft gasp.

Mira cupped Rumi’s breasts, massaging them gently, earning breathless moans.

Please don’t stop.

Rumi tilted her head to catch Mira’s lips into a kiss; it was an awkward angle but she wanted to feel as much of her as she could.

She melted into it.

Her body hummed with sensation, her skin alive beneath Mira’s touch. The awkwardness faded, replaced by something deeper—something that felt like belonging. She groaned into the kiss when Mira’s thumbs grazed over her nipples. She could feel the heat pooling between her legs.

She was rapidly realizing that she was going from never before changing in public, to fucking her friend in a bath house changing room.

“Please,” Rumi whispered, the word barely making it past her lips.

“Please what?” Mira asked, eyebrows raised, feigning innocence.

Rumi didn’t answer. Instead, she reached for Mira’s wrist and guided her hand down her body, stopping at the edge of her underwear—an unspoken plea humming between them.

Mira chuckled softly. “Aha, okay.”

She gently slipped her hand free, making Rumi groan in protest. She opened the locker in front of them, angling the mirror to reflect the two of them.  

Rumi's breath caught at the sight of herself in Mira's arms. 

“What are you doing?” Rumi asked, confused.

“I want you to see,” Mira said gently.

Her hand dipped into Rumi’s underwear, finger gliding along Rumi’s heat. Mira hummed in satisfaction. She ran her fingers down to Rumi’s opening dipping in gently, just one finger, and back up to Rumi’s clit, running lazy circles.

Rumi’s eyes stayed on the reflection, watching Mira. She pressed in closer, skin burning everywhere Mira had touched her. Her patterns glowing. 

She hadn’t realized how much she’d been hiding until now.

“You are beautiful,” Mira whispered into her ear, the words soft and steady. “I’m sorry you ever felt like you had to hide yourself from me.” With those words Mira pushed two fingers in, setting a slow building rhythm. Rumi moaned, her body tightening.

“Mira, oh my god,” pressure between Rumi’s legs was building quickly. Her breath came out in short burst, following Mira’s quickening pace.

She had always been the giver when it came to sex. She was not used to taking, without guilt clawing at her throat.

It felt indulgent. It felt good.

She wanted to take, and Mira was there to provide.

Mira’s fingers pumped inside, filling her in a delicious way. Mira nudged Rumi’s chin back toward her, capturing Rumi’s lips in a kiss once again.

Rumi was barely kissing back; her mind completely lost to sensation.

Mira felt Rumi clench around her fingers. She only held Rumi tighter, anchoring her through the oncoming tremors, whispering soft reassurances between each breath.

“Fuck Rumi, I want you to cum for me,” the edge in Mira's voice gave away just how worked up she was herself.

Rumi’s fingers clutched at Mira’s thighs, her body taut, trembling, undone.

Mira held onto her tightly, holding her up. When the tension finally ebbed, Rumi collapsed against her, boneless and quiet.

Rumi let out a shaky laugh, muffled against Mira’s shoulder.

“You’re smug,” she muttered.

Mira grinned against her skin. “I think I earned it.”

Chapter Text

Rumi woke early the next morning, determined to surprise her friends with breakfast. Days off were rare, and when they did come, they usually defaulted to food delivery—quick, convenient, forgettable. But Rumi loved to cook. The intentionality of it, the quiet rhythm—it helped her slow down, helped her feel present.

She kept it simple: eggs over kimchi rice. The rice was already steaming in the cooker; she just needed to wait for Mira and Zoey to wake up before frying the eggs. Bending down to dig through the fridge, she muttered to herself, “Where the hell are they?” Her fingers brushed past a jug of soy milk, and there they were—tucked at the back of the fridge. “Aha,” she whispered.

“Hey! Good morning!” Zoey’s voice rang out as she entered the kitchen.

Rumi startled, jumping up and smacking the top of her head on the freezer door.

“Oof—ow…” she winced, rubbing the sore spot.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!” Zoey rushed over, eyes wide with concern.

Rumi gave her a soft smile. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t that hard. You just surprised me.”

Zoey offered an apologetic look. “What are you doing up so early?”

It was a strange question, since normally, Rumi was the first one awake. On days off, Zoey slept in until at least 10:30, and Mira sometimes didn’t emerge until noon.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Rumi teased, letting her gaze linger. Zoey looked effortlessly pretty in her tiny pajama shorts and oversized t-shirt, hair tousled from sleep.

“I wanted to talk to you, actually…” Zoey’s tone shifted, sleepy warmth giving way to something more serious.

“Um, okay,” Rumi said, closing the fridge and setting the egg carton on the counter. “Shoot.”

“I know things got weird between us at the Idol Awards,” Zoey began, eyes dropping to the floor. She was chewing her lip—something she always did when nervous. “But I wanted to say that I meant what I said in the changing room.”

Well, Rumi thought, I wasn’t expecting this conversation to happen quite like this…

“I, um…” she hesitated. The night was a blur—flashes of chaos, adrenaline, emotion. She couldn’t remember much clearly.

Zoey looked even more flustered. “I mean, if you still wanted to, I…” She blushed. “I guess what I meant was…”

“I’m sorry,” Rumi interrupted gently. “I just don’t remember a lot of talking. I was kind of in a daze when you kissed me.” She paused, “Do you think you could remind me?”

Zoey blinked, “Do you mean, like, what I said? Or... the kiss?”

She stepped closer, looping her arms over Rumi’s shoulders.

The closeness gave her butterflies. “Both would be nice,” Rumi said smiling down at her.

Zoey pulled Rumi down, pausing just before their lips met.

“I said that you feel like home,” she whispered.

Then she closed the rest of the distance.

The kiss began slow—patient, exploratory. Rumi melted into the sensation of Zoey’s lips against hers, savoring the softness, the heat. She slid her arms around Zoey’s waist, pulling her close until their bodies pressed flush. Zoey traced her tongue along Rumi’s lips, asking silently for more. Rumi answered without hesitation.

Fuck, she thought, she’s really good with her tongue.

Her hands wandered under Zoey’s shirt, gliding up the sides, thumbs grazing dangerously close to her chest. Zoey groaned into the kiss, the sound vibrating between them. They broke apart just long enough for a beath, then crashed back together—hungrier, messier.

Maybe I’m not going to get to make the eggs.

Rumi slid her hands down to the backs of Zoey’s thighs, tugging gently. “Jump,” she whispered.

Zoey obeyed, wrapping her legs around Rumi’s waist, arms clinging tight. Rumi stumbled toward the hallway, half-blind with want, one hand reaching out to steady them against the wall. She pressed Zoey against the door to her room, earning a breathy moan. She fumbled for the knob.

“No,” Zoey panted, lips brushing Rumi’s. “My room…”

Rumi didn’t know why it mattered—but Zoey’s wish was her command. She pivoted, crossing the hall, nudging open the door with her foot and kicking it shut behind them. They tumbled toward the bed, Rumi trying to lower Zoey gently but misjudging her balance. They flopped down in a heap, laughing between kisses.

“I have an idea,” Zoey said suddenly, pushing Rumi off and gesturing for her to stay put.

“Huh?” Rumi blinked, breathless.

Zoey darted across the room, rifling through drawers with purpose.

“Can I help?” Rumi asked, shifting to sit at the foot of the bed, her gaze trailing Zoey’s movements with curiosity.

She pulled out a simple black harness from the drawer, holding it over hear head like a trophy.

“Would you wear it?” Zoey asked, eyes bright. “Only if you’re okay with it,” she added quickly, trying to rein herself in. “I’m not attached to it or anything. Just thought it might be fun. But if you want to do something else, we can—”

“Yes,” Rumi said, laughing softly. She stepped forward and took the harness from Zoey’s hands, beginning to untangle the straps. “Here.”

Zoey turned to another drawer, her brows furrowed in concentration.

“What? A lot of options?” Rumi teased, tugging down her sweats and stepping out of them. She stared at the harness in her hands, trying to untwist it. Ugh, this is so confusing. She squinted at the loops, trying to figure out which leg went where.

“Yes,” Zoey replied, completely deadpan.

She pulled out a silicone strap-on with a flat base and handed it to Rumi, “this is Tex,” she smiled.

“Hello Tex, nice to meet you,” Rumi took it with feigned reverence.

She struggled to slide Tex through the dual hoops of the harness while standing. With a frustrated sigh, Rumi sat back down on the edge of the bed, hoping a better angle would help.

“Ugh, I probably should have pulled it though first before putting the harness on,” Rumi huffed at herself.

Zoey knelt between Rumi’s legs, her hands already reaching to help. “Here, let me,” she murmured, fingers brushing against Rumi’s thighs as she adjusted the straps with practiced ease, making enough room for Tex to slide though.

“There!” she tightened the straps.

“So, what did you have in mind…ooOO,” Rumi was caught by surprise when she felt Zoey reach between her legs, moving aside her underwear.

“Is that okay?” Zoey asked, her fingers wrapped around Tex.

Rumi nodded in response, giddy with anticipation. “Okay then,” Zoey slid her fingers into Rumi’s heat.

“You are wet,” she said as she brushed tongue on the tip of the dildo.

“Fuck,” Rumi breathed, she didn’t know where to put her hands so she braced herself on the edge of the bed. She watched as Zoey slowly the tip of Tex into her mouth, her fingers rubbing slow circles on Rumi’s clit, matching the cadence with the strokes of her tongue.

Rumi’s moved on their own, pushing Tex deeper into Zoey’s mouth and seeking the pressure of her fingers. She could tell Zoey was enjoying it, she sucked with her eyes half closed, moaning into every thrust.

“You look really good like that,” Rumi said, waving her fingers though Zoey’s hair and bringing her closer, making Tex disappear in her mouth completely. Zoey groaned, bracing herself on Rumi’s inner thigh.

“Um, ok hot,” Mira’s voice came from the doorway.

Shit.

Rumi let go of Zoey’s hair, and Zoey pulled back, a thin string of saliva falling from her lips.

Mira stood in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning into the frame like she had all the time in the world. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, she wore her angry teddy bear nightgown.

Rumi panted lightly, her skin buzzing with arousal. She probably should have felt embarrassed being caught like this, with Zoey, half dressed. But she didn’t. Not at all. The flush on Mira’s cheeks, the way her eyes lingered—I know she wants this too.

“Mira…” Rumi said, catching her breath. “You can watch if you want, or…” Her gaze slid down Mira’s frame, pausing pointedly at the nightgown. “You can also take that off and come over here.”

Zoey lit up instantly. “I have an idea!” she chirped, already heading back to the dresser.

“I’m sure you do,” Mira replied dryly, eyes following Zoey for a beat before turning back to Rumi. “Was this her idea too?”

She stepped forward, stopping between Rumi’s legs. Her fingers found the hem of her nightgown, she pulled it up—slowly.

“I like Zoey’s ideas,” Rumi said, eyes wide. She had the best seat in the house, and Mira was putting on a show.

The gown slipped over Mira’s head and landed in a soft heap on the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

Rumi’s breath caught.

Fuuuuck.

Mira lowered herself onto Rumi's lap, moaning at the unanticipated pressure of Tex between her legs.

She grabbed Rumi’s face with both hands and kissed her. Hips gliding lightly along the length of the silicone cock. Rumi rested her hands on Mira's hips, encouraging the movement.

Mira felt Zoey’s palms press warmly against her back. She broke the kiss, and swept her hair to one side, exposing the curve of her neck. An invitation.

Zoey didn’t hesitate. She leaned in, lips parting, and placed open-mouthed kisses along the column of Mira’s throat. Her arms slid upward, fingertips grazing the underside of Mira’s chest, pausing just long enough for Mira to stop her if she needed.

Mira exhaled, her body arching slightly into the touch. Urging Zoey to keep going.

Zoey caught Mira’s nipples between her thumbs and pointer fingers, rolling them gently.

Mira moaned – loudly –reeling from the amount of sensation.

All of these hands on her.

She was already aroused from watching Zoey and Rumi just earlier, she could feel how wet she was, her body felt like it was on fire.

“If y’all don’t stop I’m going to cum,” she struggled to get the words out between ragged breaths, “I want to slow down.”

Zoey pulled away and soothed her nipples with her palms, giving Mira some space.

Mira moved to the side, slipping off of Rumi’s lap, pushing herself further onto the bed.

Zoey followed, slowly crawling up Mira’s body, trailing kisses up her legs, her belly, between her breasts, finally kissing her on the mouth. When Zoey settled between Mira’s legs, her friend yelped with surprise.

“What the- ?” Mira smiled and looked down between them. Zoey was still wearing her oversized t-shirt, but her underwear was gone, replaced by a harness.

“This is Maverick,” Zoey said, Rumi and Mira chuckled.

“I swear I am not making these names up, that’s what they were called when I bought them!” she protested.

Without hesitation she pulled Mira’s underwear off and discarded the damp fabric onto the floor.

“Can I?” Zoey asked, as she lined up Maverick at the opening. She stayed there, head bent low, her lips trailing gentle kisses across Mira’s shoulder, her collarbone, the curve of her neck—any skin Zoey could reach while waiting for a response. 

Rumi settled on her side, one arm tucked beneath her head. Her fingers brushed a loose strand of red hair from Mira’s forehead, tucking it delicately behind her ear.

Mira turned slightly, her eyes meeting Rumi’s. “Yes please,” Mira said.

Zoey pushed in slowly, her girth sliding in easily.

Hot.

“Ahh… Fuck,” Mira moaned, Zoey started to rock her hips, pushing in deeper.

Rumi was transfixed by the view. She watched as small beads of sweat formed on Zoey’s forehead, Mira’s mouth change into shapes of silent moans, mouthing Zoey’s name.

Rumi’s own arousal was making itself known, and now watching Mira get thoroughly fucked, she didn’t want to be left out.

Rumi settled behind Zoey, her knees bracketing Mira’s thighs as she gently nudged them apart to make space. The movement was awkward, but her intent was clear.

Her hand found the base of Zoey’s neck, she pressed down with quiet authority.

Zoey melted into the touch, her body folding forward until she was resting on her forearms over Mira’s bare skin. Her hips stilled, breath catching, the tension in her spine humming with anticipation.

Mira let out a soft whine, her body twitching beneath them at the sudden absence of friction. 

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Rumi said, her palm still warm against Zoey’s back. She pushed the tip of Tex in, and rocked, Zoey’s breath hitched.

She pushed all the way in.

“Fuck, Rumi,” Zoey yelped, her body getting pushed further into Mira’s while still inside her.

Zoey turned her head slightly, her cheek brushing Mira’s shoulder. “Please move,” she whined.

And so Rumi moved, rocking her hips in a steady rhythm, fucking them both. She held herself up, arms on either side of Mira’s torso. The pressure of Tex’s base on her pelvis was intoxicating, sending out vibrations of pleasure with every thrust.

She reached out and grabbed onto the back of Zoey’s hair – tugging firmly, arching her back. The silicone cock made loud, wet, obscene sounds as it made contact with Zoey’s cunt. Rumi groaned, enjoying the ridiculous noise.

“Fuck, Rumi, that feels so good,” Zoey was losing all control, giving into the pleasure. Mira’s hands wondered her body cupping and squeezing her breasts, her mouth occasionally catching and sucking on a nipple.

Rumi’s pace picked up, she was relentless. Zoey’s mouth hung open in a half gasp, her body starting to shake from pleasure. Rumi let go of Zoey’s hair, and let her flop completely on to Mira.

“You alright?” Rumi checked-in, locking eyes with the taller woman, who was now bearing all of their friend’s weight.

“I’m fucking amazing,” Mira answered.

“Good,” Rumi murmured, her voice a low hum. She leaned forward, her chest pressing into Zoey’s back, anchoring them both as she reached for Mira.

Their lips met in a messy, breathless kiss—sloppy in the way that meant urgency. They kissed over Zoey’s shoulder, the shorter woman caught between them like a live wire, her body trembling.

Mira’s hand slid up Rumi’s arm, fingers curling around her bicep as she deepened the kiss, her breath hitching when Zoey shifted beneath them.

Rumi pulled back just enough to whisper against Mira’s lips, “You feel so good like this.”

Zoey let out a soft, impatient sound, her hips twitching. “You two are killing me.”

Rumi’s thrust’s quickened, shorter, hurried, Zoey’s Maverick matching pace inside Mira. Their moans coiled together, filling the room. 

Zoey had reduced to incoherent whimpers, she started to spasm, pleasure building unbearably close. She wasn’t capable of any intentional movement anymore, so she just rested her head on Mira’s shoulder and let Rumi fuck her.

Mira’s hand held onto the back of Rumi’s neck, leaving red scratch marks in places she was trying to hold on. She slipped her other hand between her and Zoey, finding Zoey’s clit.

Just then a shudder ran though Rumi; she almost lost control when her orgasm crept up all of a sudden. She moaned into Mira’s mouth. She felt sensitive, overstimulated, as she kept pumping her hips through her own orgasm.

Her movements getting sloppy and irregular.

Mira felt the shift, “I’m so close Rumi, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!”

She tightened her grip on Rumi’s neck holding her close. Their tongues slid against each other in odd patterns. No intension– just feeling, just pleasure.

Zoey tried to move, trapped between them, Rumi propped herself up higher to give her more room. Zoey’s hand pushed between herself and Mira, finding Mira’s clit, their hands brushing against each other.

“I want to…” Zoey’s voice was strained with tension, “cum together,” her hands were sloppy, but Mira’s body responded immediately.

Zoey and Mira’s bodies trembled together, their voices ringing loud. Rumi rocked slow and deep, helping them through the waves of pleasure.

Zoey’s hand slid up against Rumi’s thigh, firm but gentle—a silent signal. Rumi paused, her breath catching, eyes searching Zoey’s face for confirmation.

Zoey nodded, her expression open, vulnerable. It’s okay to stop.

Rumi exhaled slowly, her body easing out of tension. She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Zoey’s shoulder, then another to the curve of her spine. Her hands moved with care now, not urgency. She pulled out slowly, loosening and slipping off the harness.

Zoey was a sweaty mess, pressed between Mira and Rumi. She gathered herself slowly and pulled out of Mira. Mira twitched from sensitivity.

“Sorry,” Zoey murmured, trying to be gentle as she rolled off Mira to the left side of the bed.

“Don’t be sorry,” Mira said, breathless, her hands covering her flushed face. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “That was something else.”

With a loud oomph, Rumi flopped down on Mira’s right, limbs heavy and spent. “I’m going to be sore tomorrow.”

Mira tilted her head, eyes narrowing playfully. “Wait—did you?” Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

Rumi didn’t think her cheeks could get any redder. “Earlier,” she admitted, barely meeting Mira’s gaze.

Zoey’s head popped up from behind Mira, eyes wide. “You did? Just from fucking me?” Her voice was full of awe.

“Yes!” Rumi squeaked, burying her face in her hands.

Mira propped herself up on one elbow and reached over, trying to pry Rumi’s hands away. “You’re okay,” she said warmly. “That’s really hot, actually.” She peppered kisses across Rumi’s cheeks and forehead, dodging her friend’s flailing arms.

“Okay, stoooop!” Rumi laughed, squirming under the affection. Mira finally relented, resting her hand gently on Rumi’s tummy.

Zoey leaned in from the other side, nestling her head against Mira’s ribs, her arm wrapping around the taller woman’s waist. Both of them looked at Rumi with such open warmth, it made her heart squeeze.

“I love you,” she blurted.

Mira and Zoey looked stunned, a confused look passed between them.

“Both of you,” Rumi clarified, “I love you both.”