Chapter Text
Everything Rumi tried so hard to hide has been revealed. Everything she worked so hard for has fallen apart.
Her fellow Hunters have seen the ugly thing she is and have left her, just like she knew they would. Rumi can hardly blame them. If the roles were reversed, if she were a true Hunter like them and were not corrupted, she would’ve done the same thing. A good Hunter takes care of every demon that threatens the Honmoon, and Rumi knows what she is.
Not even Jinu will stand with her, knowing whatever light at the end of the tunnel she offered has dimmed, and her words are empty promises. She couldn’t save him. She can’t even save herself. What good is a Hunter like that? What good is she, if she can’t right the mistake made over twenty years ago?
Outside, the world is in ruins. Fans, hypnotized and marching towards their doom. The Honmoon, a fluttering and fading heartbeat, burning away under her feet. She scorched it. She’s nothing but another destroyer. Like she destroyed her family. Like she’s going to destroy the world.
Hunters come in trios. A lone Hunter can do much, but not as much as three. Without her, the Honmoon cannot be repaired. The army of demons that will come will overwhelm Mira and Zoey. Rumi can’t fix this.
But she knows someone who can.
It wouldn’t be the first time she went to Celine to clean up her mess, but it will be the last. With her, Mira and Zoey can undo what she’s done. With her, Rumi can finally atone for the mistake she is and should’ve never been.
The last thing Rumi will ever do is once again ask Celine to do something for her. It’s a selfish way to die, but Rumi is a demon. It’s all she can do. All she’s really good for.
Rumi closes her eyes. Breathes in deeply, exhales shakily. She knows what must be done. She knows.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and yet, it’s the only thing that seems to carry through the air. All other sound has been drowned out— just Rumi and her admission of guilt. “I never wanted this. But I’ll make it up to you.”
There are too many people to name that she whispers her apology to. Only one hears; Rumi feels the weak flutter of the Honmoon beneath her feet. A tear slips from her eye, dropping onto the strings below, then more follow. A cascade of apologies that will never be enough and can’t stop it from slowly burning away.
“I’m sorry. I hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”
Rumi’s legs can’t support her anymore— she falls to her knees, head pressing into the ground as she bows and weeps. It’s not enough. Nothing she does will ever be enough, but this is the best she can offer.
“You’ve done nothing but give me purpose.” Rumi whispers to its strings. To the power that made a home in her chest for as long as she can remember. It chose her and she tore it apart. What kind of monster does that make her? “I don’t deserve you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
Under the palms of her hands, the strings seem to shift, bunching tightly together. She feels its power— what remains of it— pulse once again, stronger with the last remnants all together instead of spread thin. Rumi feels it as it surrounds her in a way it never has before and doesn’t know what it’s doing but remains still. Whatever it is, she deserves it. If it wants to take care of the demon that killed it, it can.
It works, undeterred, coiling around her as if wanting to cover every inch, and then—
Then, it glows. Brighter than she’s ever seen it, for a single moment in time.
Before it fizzles out and Rumi is plunged into darkness.
Silence greets her. No shuffling footsteps, no broadcast from the Saja Boys playing, nothing. The ground beneath her has changed in texture. No longer solid concrete or even asphalt, but dryer. Flaky. Rumi opens her eyes to dark rock, unlike anything she’s ever seen before. Her body uncurls to sit up, numb and confused, as if waking up from a coma.
A strange mist is in the dark and murky air. Distantly, she can make out sparse dead trees and mountains. The air tastes… Wrong. Not quite toxic, but wrong.
Nothing for as far as Rumi can see. But when she looks up, her breath catches.
A wave of golden strings cover the sky. An impenetrable wall, and a distant dream of hers. A goal she forever chased but could never quite achieve.
The Golden Honmoon.
Is she dreaming? Rumi thinks she might be. With the damage she did, the Golden Honmoon wouldn’t have been possible. Too much power lost— decades of work, erased.
But dreams are based on reality, and she doesn’t recognize this place. Rumi would’ve remembered it if she ever came here. This place makes goosebumps form on her arms, makes some part of her scream that she’s in danger, and Rumi—
…She knows where this is. When she stops and really lets herself feel it, Rumi recognizes the power under her feet immediately. Why it brings that feeling of danger and a healthy dose of fear with it. She’s felt it countless times— memorized it.
Demonic power. This is the demon realm.
Did Rumi pass out? Did the Honmoon banish her here while somehow, Celine salvaged everything? Did it take her power and make itself golden? Nothing makes sense, and yet, Rumi knows a few things for certain.
The Honmoon is golden. She’s in the demon realm.
She’s alone. This is what she deserves.
This is what she wanted. All demons, banished back to where they belong, so humanity could be safe. Why should she be an exception?
Rumi doesn’t understand what happened, but she knows enough. Her eyes shut, body sagging into the ground, and she accepts her fate.
But accepting your fate is easier said than done, and when Rumi feels the sudden burst of energy that comes from a demon teleporting nearby, her decades of training aren’t so easily erased. Her body knows how to survive more than it knows how to die. She’s on her feet again before she knows what she’s doing.
Rumi holds her hand out, reaching for her weapon on pure instinct, but the pull of the Honmoon isn’t there. Her heart drops, the radio silence deafening, and Rumi is reminded that she’s alone. Alone, in a world that will want to tear her apart for who she is, more literally than her world ever did.
Giving up and dying is so much more appealing if it can be done painlessly, but demons aren’t known for their mercy,
The demon who appears not far from her is tall— too tall for their otherwise human-like appearance. Long, black hair rests on their broad shoulders, a pair of pointed horns coming out of the top of their head, and their presence is… Daunting. Even from where she stands alone, Rumi can tell they’re stronger than any other demon she’s faced. They radiate power, causing the air to feel hotter and undeniably dangerous.
Half of her screams to run if there’s nothing to protect and she has no backup, but the other half of her finds it hopeless to try. A demon like this will certainly be able to teleport. Where would she run to, in a place she doesn’t know, if they will inevitably follow?
No sword, no friends, no Honmoon. Nothing left. Nothing at all.
While Rumi braces herself to go out swinging, the tall demon doesn’t immediately approach. Their head tilts, shadows cast over their face in the gloomy lights of this place. Demons can see in the dark, Rumi knows. She guesses even if she’s too demon for the Honmoon to accept her, she’s not demon enough for a place like this.
“…Rumi?” The voice says, disbelieving. It’s low and… Familiar? Rumi is thrown in for a loop, trying to piece it together. The looming demon takes a few steps forward and Rumi only just takes a half step back before she really looks at them and realizes why they seem so familiar.
All the little additions to what she knew threw her off, but outside the horns and much longer hair, his face hasn’t really changed all that much. Still all the same sharp angles, still the same map of patterns she saw at the Idol Awards, still… Jinu.
“You’re…” One too many differences to point out. There are no wrinkles on his face but his eyes seem older somehow. They hold emotions Rumi can barely hope to decipher, other than that he’s looking at her like a puzzle to be solved. His patterns aren’t purple anymore either, they’re a deep shade of blue and thinner with sharper angles. Rumi swallows and settles on the first change she can bring herself to name. “Taller.”
Jinu blinks slowly at her. It almost reminds her of a cat. When he opens his mouth, his teeth look sharper. “You shouldn’t be here.” He says.
Again, her heart drops. “I know.” She croaks out, suddenly feeling so very fragile again. “But the Honmoon rejected me. My friends turned against me. I have no one— nothing, now. And it’s what I deserve. You were right. Demons like us just… Get to live with our pain.”
“…No.” Jinu says slowly, taking another step forward. That power, Rumi realizes, it’s coming from him. But he’s never had power like that before— how did he get it? “No, Rumi, I mean you shouldn’t be here. This world— it isn’t yours. How did you get here?”
Now it’s Rumi’s turn to blink, suddenly off balance. “What?” She asks. It only makes Jinu frown.
Another step forward, a hand outstretched this time. “May I?” He asks, as if he needs permission to enter the last few feet of space between them.
The hand he offers is clawed, covered in patterns, undeniably demonic. Rumi remembers the Idol Awards— betrayed, exposed, and turned away from. Mira and Zoey could barely stand to be near her. Jinu disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
But she also remembers a hand in hers, voices lifting through the air, and the Honmoon lighting up all around her.
He betrayed her. But he had to have meant it once, didn’t he?
She’s tired. In a place like this, Jinu is the closest thing to an ally she has.
Rumi reaches back— with her human hand; the other is too demonic for her to want even Jinu to see. He closes the distance, taking her hand as if it’s something delicate, fragile. Her palms are examined, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes travel, up her wrist, then her bicep, before finally meeting her eyes again.
Rumi knows her patterns have spread up to her face now— the itch it brought is still fresh. She has to look away, swallowing thickly.
“Your Honmoon…” Jinu says slowly. For a brief moment, her shameful appearance is forgotten and Rumi’s eyes dart back. His expression is contemplative. “Its power still lingers on your skin. It’s not golden, is it?”
“It’s… Not.” Rumi confirms, sucking in a breath as she tries to make sense of it. “What do you mean that I’m not in the right world?”
“I mean exactly what I said. This isn’t your world. You’re not my Rumi, and this energy you carry doesn’t have the same signature as our Honmoon.” Jinu replies, too calmly for how unbelievable his statement is. “I can only assume your Honmoon did something. Can you get back?”
“How…” Too many questions— Rumi has to actually pick a few if she wants any answers. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I can tell you’re not a fake, but I also know you’re not my Rumi.” He says, releasing the hold on her hand. “And the power still lingering on you puts the pieces together. I’ve never heard of anything like this,” his head tilts, almost humorously, at her, “But I've also never heard of a half demon Hunter existing before you. Impossible things occasionally become possible.”
“But the Honmoon—” Rumi stops herself. The Honmoon is full of centuries worth of power, able to do things that were revolutionary in its time. Who’s to say she can’t be here now? Who’s to say the Honmoon even has limits to what is and isn’t possible, when the Golden Honmoon itself was speculated for centuries before they determined it was possible?
The question is thrown away, replaced with a new one. “Why would it do this?”
“You’re the Hunter.” Jinu points out. “You understand it better than me.”
Rumi doesn’t think she understands much of anything more. Her silence that follows seems to say that well enough.
She was supposed to fix her mistake. She was supposed to make a sacrifice in hopes that it would un-doom the world. Why would the Honmoon use whatever power it had left to bring her here?
It all feels too real and unfamiliar to be a dream.
“Rumi,” Jinu says, and she realizes she’s not breathing right. A hand touches her shoulder, then retreats as Jinu decides to fold them behind his back instead. “Why don’t we take this one step at a time? Follow me, we can figure this out together. Okay?”
For a moment, Rumi is paralyzed. This reality presented to her is difficult to wrap her head around, but the original one she had wasn’t much better. The Honmoon, as broken as it was, couldn’t have become golden so quickly. Jinu shouldn’t look as he does now, such a drastic change in such a short amount of time. Even if the idea of somehow hopping universes sounds unbelievable, at least it offers some answers.
But if she’s here, what’s happening back in her reality?
The world is probably still broken. But at least you aren’t there to make it worse.
When Jinu starts heading one way, glancing back to check if she’s following, Rumi manages to force herself to trail behind him.
What else is she meant to do?
—
The demon realm is not empty, but every demon they see gives them a wide berth, many purposefully moving out of the way once they get within a certain radius. Rumi glances at Jinu but he doesn’t seem interested, as if this is an everyday event.
If Rumi had to guess, she would say it’s the aura surrounding him that scares them off. It doesn’t make her feel much better about the situation.
“You’re lucky I felt your arrival.” Jinu tells her as they walk. He slows down a bit when he realizes Rumi is having a little trouble keeping up, fatigued after the night she’s had. “I can’t guarantee what would’ve happened if someone else found you.”
“You felt my arrival?” Rumi finds herself asking. He nods.
“It was hard to tell what kind of power it was from a distance but I knew it was unusual. I haven’t felt a change like that in a very long time.” Jinu looks over his shoulder, undeniably curious. “You seem to recognize me so I guess our worlds aren’t that different. But we can catch up later— we’re almost there.”
Rumi turns her attention ahead of them, noting things she didn’t see before. There’s some sort of city built around one, tall hill with a building sat at the very top of it. Her breath hitches slightly when she realizes what it is. A large palace, fit for a king.
She stops dead. Jinu does too when he notices. “Rumi?”
“Are you leading me to Gwi-Ma?” A cold feeling washes over her. He’s a Jinu, yes, but she doesn’t know this one. He already said this wasn’t her world. If one Jinu betrayed her, why wouldn’t another?
Despite realizing her train of thought, this Jinu just huffs a laugh. “No, Rumi. My Gwi-Ma has been dead for a very long time; you don’t have to worry about him.”
Dead? Rumi releases the breath she was holding. Gwi-Ma can die?
“We’re not going to the palace, then?”
“No, we are. But the new demon royals mostly hold the title because those around them struggle to give up the idea of not having any kings.” Jinu starts walking again, gesturing for her to follow. “We’ve been working on establishing a new kind of order, but progress is slow. When you can’t die from old age, people are far more stubborn.”
…We? Rumi thinks, and follows.
The city built at the base near the palace is more lively than Rumi expects it to be. Jinu navigates it flawlessly, taking them through crowds of demons bargaining at markets, or playing mahjong at little tables, or simply lingering around to chat with one another. All sorts of demons are mingling, Rumi notices. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen water demons accompany dokkaebi before when she fought them, but they seem friendly now.
The demons who live in the city around the palace are far less skittish around Jinu, though no one comes up to them. The path is cleared for them. They all look at Rumi, baffled by her presence and whispering to each other, but otherwise leave them be. For a city taking place in the demon realm, it almost feels normal. Same shop venders, same chatter, same arguments she hears only offhandedly.
From there, it’s a long flight of stairs up, but Rumi barely feels it. She’s done worse. At least she’s wearing decent boots, though she does still feel a dull ache pulse through her feet, reminding her of how long she’s been awake and on the move.
It’s only when they reach the palace doors that someone comes running up, slightly out of breath. A demon, a jeoseung saja, with her hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her outfit screams 'Secretary', as does the clipboard in her arms.
“Your majesty! You’re back early!” She greets with some relief, then double takes when she sees Rumi. “And… You brought a doppelgänger back with you?”
“Long story.” Jinu waves her off. “Clear my schedule for today, I need to take care of something. Is she in her office?”
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to tell you about.” The demon secretary winces to herself, effortlessly keeping pace with Jinu while he walks. “She hasn’t left your royal chambers. She’s having a, ah, bad day.”
At last, Jinu stops dead in his tracks. “Oh.” He says, looking away with a small sigh. “Okay. Okay, I’ll go see her now, then. Is her schedule cleared already too?” A nod. Jinu gives the secretary a little smile. “Thank you. You’re welcome to take the rest of the day off yourself— safe to say we won’t be leaving the palace anytime soon.”
“Thank you, and good luck. With,” another look Rumi’s way, intrigued but not enough to ask, “Whatever this is.”
Jinu snorts softly before heading down the hall. Rumi has to jog to catch up. “‘Bad day?’” She echoes.
“We all have them.” Jinu replies simply, instead of elaborating. “Stay in the entryway when we get there, I’ll handle everything else. We’ll figure out what’s going on with you after, alright?”
“Alright.” Rumi agrees, nerves stirring in her chest. The palace has high ceilings and long, seemingly endless halls, as if fit for a tyrant much bigger than even Jinu. They pass by plenty of staff along the way, some cleaning while others are walking in the opposite direction. Jinu gives little nods here and there but otherwise, his eyes remain fixated ahead.
He starts humming at some point. It takes Rumi only a few moments to realize she recognizes the tune, taken off guard by it. It’s one she’s heard over and over, ever since she was a child. The tune of the Hunter’s Mantra. She didn’t know Jinu knew it.
At the very end of the hall, a pair of tall double doors sit. Jinu presses a hand to the darkened wood once he gets there, a pulse of blue responding, and the doors swing open on their own. He steps inside, still humming, navigating the space freely. Rumi takes a single step inside before she stops and stares at what’s around them.
Lanterns of purple flames light up the room, illuminating the walls of polished black stone with gold accents surrounding it. The bed is twice the size of Rumi’s own, covered in a sea of pillows by the headboard and at least one visible fluffy comforter. There’s an open door leading into a walk-in closet with a variety of outfits that Rumi can spot, a whole wall full of instruments on perches, and a vanity mirror with makeup and lotions galore, but amidst all the other decorations, there’s two parts that stands out to Rumi the most.
The first are the long, thick coils of purple hair that lay on the floor like a giant snake has taken residence in her room. The amount of hair astounds her— reminds her of that old German fairytale Zoey had them watch a movie on, once. The princess with impossibly long hair, locked up in a tower, isolated. Zoey made a joke that they were similar and it stuck with Rumi more than she wanted to admit.
The hair leads up to someone sitting in the rafters, curled in on herself. Jinu locates her just as quickly as Rumi does, kicking off the ground to levitate and join her up there. As he does, Rumi’s eyes drift towards the decorated wall.
Part of it is full of merchandise— some of Huntrix but also the entirety of the Saja Boys collection is there. It’s set up to be displayed, much like one would in a museum with shelves and hooks for clothes. All the clothes are seemingly perfectly unwrinkled, and, notably, none of it is dusty. It’s taken care of— respected.
The other half of it is portraits. Professionally done, painted and poised like they’re royalty. Two for both Zoey and Mira, and one for all the other Saja Boys. Looking into Mira and Zoey’s eyes in the paintings, Rumi is struck with conflicting feelings. It’s so real, making it too easy to remember how they looked at her when they saw her patterns. Horror. Shock. Betrayal. Then, resolve. Knowing what a good Hunter should do with a broken demon like her.
Swallowing hard, Rumi forces her eyes away. If she really listens for it, she can hear Jinu’s hushed voice up on the rafters.
“—know, I’m sorry.” He whispers, gently rubbing an arm that’s fully covered in patterns. “It’s not fair. It was never fair.”
“I wish—” a sob, quiet but choked, “I wish things were different. If— if I had known—”
“We both know you still would’ve gone through with the Idol Awards.”
“I could’ve left a note! Said— said how sorry I was, how— how proud I am that we finally made it. Do— do you think they blamed themselves? I didn’t— it was my choice. My voice that sealed it.”
“I think,” Jinu says carefully. His voice is so gentle that Rumi’s heart cracks open yet again. He had been gentle with her, in their duet. His eyes, so soft, so hopeful— she thought… She thought he would… “Regardless of if they did or didn’t, you’re not doing anything but hurting yourself by thinking like this.”
Even from where she is, Rumi can see her shudder. “I’m sorry.” She whispers.
“It’s okay.”
“I— I know we’ve had this conversation over and over again—”
“And how many times have you held me through my bad days?” His visible hand flexes, giving the side of her arm a little squeeze. “It’s not a big deal. We take care of each other, right? Protect what we have.”
“Right…” A sniffle, followed by a shaky breath in. The next words out of her mouth knock the wind out of Rumi. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Jinu says, as easy as breathing. “Now, I know you probably need a minute, but we have an unusual guest.”
“Guest?” That seems to kickstart her into action, sitting up straight. Rumi almost jumps five feet in the air when the long segments of hair suddenly start moving, rising up into the air as if alive. “Jinu, you should’ve told me! Why didn’t you—”
She slips off the rafters, held up in the air by the long strands of hair acting almost like extra limbs. The second she locks eyes with Rumi, both of them freeze.
It’s not as if Rumi didn’t know who she was. She had her guesses from the way that this Jinu was talking about certain things, even before she stepped into this room. And she knows the sound of her own voice, even if this version of her is a bit… Different.
Physically seeing what she looks like is something else entirely however.
The other Rumi is taller too, with four horns coming out of her head like a little crown. Her irises are purple and glowing faintly, matching the deep purple patterns that are just as thin and angular as Jinu’s. The entirety of her hands and forearms are demonic and clawed but the rest of her almost looks human, aside from the patterns.
“Oh.” Other Rumi utters out, suddenly at a loss. Her eyes don’t leave Rumi’s.
Jinu slips off the rafters, hovering in the air alongside her. “I didn’t know how to say it without it sounding unbelievable.”
“We’ve seen a lot of unbelievable things.” Gently, Other Rumi lowers herself down to the ground, hair retreating to trail behind her instead as she approaches. “But even for us, this is new.” She stops a few feet in front of Rumi, dumbstruck. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she gives Rumi a little wave. “Hi.”
Rumi manages to force out a little, “Hi.” back, even when her throat feels tight. “I, um. I’m from a different world. My Honmoon sent me?”
“I can see that…” Other Rumi pursues her lips. Her eyes are still red and puffy from crying but a switch has been flipped. Rumi recognizes it— she’s treating this like a job. Something that takes priority over everything else. “Do you mind if I..?”
She reaches out a hand. Seeing her own demonic hand isn’t any easier, even on a whole different version of her, but Rumi reaches back, the same as she did with Jinu. Just like before, Other Rumi examines her for a minute before releasing her again. “Huh.” She breathes out.
“Well?” Jinu asks, coming up to stand beside her. Seeing them side by side, it’s no wonder they’re the demonic royalty here. They look like a pair— tall, regal, and undeniably have powerful auras surrounding them. Is that purposeful or can they not turn them off?
“Definitely not our Honmoon.” Other Rumi says. She meets Rumi’s eyes again. “Do you have a way back or are you stuck?”
“Stuck.” Rumi croaks out. She gets sympathetic looks from both of them for it. “If— if I got here, surely there’s a way back?”
“Between the three of us? Yeah, we can figure something out. You won’t be stuck here forever; I’ll make sure of it. We’ll get you back home, okay?”
Home. The thought doesn’t bring as much relief as it would, once Rumi remembers what she would be returning to. Back to face your mistakes. Back to correct them, the only way you can.
Jinu clears his throat. When she looks up, both of them look disconcerted. They exchange a quick look before Jinu is back to smiling gently at her. “How about we all take a seat on the bed and see if we can put our heads together and get some answers?”
“The bed?” Other Rumi frowns. “Not the office? But you always make a big deal about not mixing home with work.”
“I think,” Jinu says, eyes darting to Rumi and back, “The bed will be better for this situation.”
Other Rumi looks at Rumi again. Then says, “Yeah, okay, you’re right. To the bed.”
Rumi doesn’t know what she looks like right now but thinks she wants to remain oblivious about it for as long as she can. She follows Jinu again when he moves, jumping when the doors suddenly shut behind her, only to find thick strands of animated hair were the ones to do it. Other Rumi apologizes for scaring her but she waves her off.
The mattress is soft under her legs, almost as good as their couch back home. Rumi wants to sink into it and cry her eyes out. She doesn’t, of course, because she doesn’t need to be any more of a mess in front of an alternative version of herself and Jinu, but she thinks about it.
“Why don’t we retrace your steps?” Other Jinu says, projecting the face of someone open and welcoming. Rumi doesn’t think she’s ever seen him this unguarded, and aches even more. “What happened to you in the last twenty-four hours?”
Rumi didn’t realize how easily the words would flow out of her until she begins, then it’s like a dam that has a leak. She can’t stop— it just comes out, faster and faster. Rumi tells them about the plan with the Idol Awards, how it went wrong, how it all fell apart, how Rumi lost everything, then, the Honmoon. What it did, as much as she remembers.
By the end of it, both Other Rumi and Jinu have more contemplative looks on their faces. Other Rumi asks a few questions about her world— seeing how much they have in common. By the end of it, she lets out a little sigh.
“Our realities weren’t all that different to start then.” Other Rumi tells her at last. “From what I can tell, they seem almost identical. Things only changed at… The Idol Awards.”
“In our reality, we achieved the Golden Honmoon.” Jinu continues, mouth pressed into a thin line. “I never betrayed you, even under Gwi-Ma’s pressure.”
“You… You did it?” Rumi feels like her insides are twisting into tight knots. It was possible. In this world, it was possible. They worked together, they got the Golden Honmoon, and what happened to her didn’t have to happen.
“We did it.” Other Rumi doesn’t sound happy about it. For a moment, Rumi feels a flash of anger. She got everything they wanted— all that work paid off and she never had to be exposed and lose everything in one night. Everything she wanted, and yet, she’s not grateful for it.
It’s not until she continues that her anger leaves her, in one fell swoop. “And all demons were all dragged down as a result, Jinu and I included.”
“…What?” Rumi croaks out. “But— the Golden Honmoon— it was supposed to get rid of our patterns!”
“It didn’t.” Other Rumi sighs, shaking her head. “Celine was wrong. The Golden Honmoon doesn’t care how human you are; if there’s any demonic energy, it gets rid of you. Blocks you off from the rest of the world.”
“No— no, it was going to save us! It wouldn’t— I spent all that time—”
“Rumi.”
“Maybe it was just yours! Maybe— maybe in my universe, the Honmoon would’ve—”
“Rumi.”
“It couldn't have been a waste. Everything I did— all the things I was going to do, once I— it was— I was supposed to—!”
“Rumi!” Someone grabs her trembling hands. Rumi looks up through blurry eyes, meeting Jinu’s saddened gaze. Slowly, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”
It’s all he says, and yet, it’s all that needs to be said for Rumi to shatter.
A sob escapes her, violent and overpowering. “It’s not— it’s not fair.” She feels like a petulant child for saying it, but Jinu scoots closer, pulling her in for a hug. There’s no judgment in his eyes and Rumi falls forward before she can stop herself. The tremble has spread to her whole body.
“It was never fair.” He agrees, stroking her back. “And I’m sorry you had to learn that the hard way.”
“I— I wanted—”
“To go to the bathhouse. To live without needing to cover anything up. To be free.” His hold around her tightens. “I know.”
Her throat tightens. Rumi stops trying to speak and just cries— sobs until she can’t anymore. Clings on to a version of a demon who betrayed her, but also might’ve really cared about her. Trapped in a world she doesn’t belong in, in the most literal sense of the word.
Neither says anything, letting Rumi get it all out of her system. She hears something shifting around, then suddenly, a blanket is being draped over her shoulders. When Rumi finally pulls away from Jinu, she tugs the blanket closer, huddling into its embrace. Jinu shifts back to give her more space, and Rumi tries not to feel self conscious about how her face must look.
Then again, Other Rumi’s eyes are still a bit puffy, so maybe she’s not so out of place.
“I…” Rumi clears her throat. “I'm sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.” Other Rumi is quick to reassure her. “It’s a hard truth to swallow, I know that better than anyone. I’ve only been able to accept it because I had time, and even now, I wish I didn't have to.”
Rumi nods along, rubbing her eyes. “How— how long has it been for you?” She asks. “Since the Idol Awards, I mean.”
Other Rumi shifts slightly. Jinu grimaces.
Rumi frowns. “What?”
“It’s been a while…” Jinu trails off.
“If our sense of time here is accurate,” Other Rumi continues carefully, “It’s been a little over a century now.”
Abruptly, her mouth feels dry. “A… A century?”
“A bit over one, actually.” Jinu tells her. “A hundred and thirteen years, give or take.”
Rumi’s attention snaps back to the other version of her. She does look older, yes, but not a hundred years older. Mature is the better word for it. Weary, maybe. But other than that… She doesn’t look older than Celine. She looks early to mid thirties at best.
“You’ve been stuck down here? All this time?”
“All this time.” She nods back. “I know how that sounds but we’ve made the most out of it. We’ve survived this far, and we can make sure to send you back to your world so you can do the same. But that might take some time, and you look tired. Do you want to lay down somewhere? I remember that the Idol Awards was pretty late in the day.”
This time, Rumi is less haunted by her own reality and what going back would mean, but only because her head is so full of thoughts that it’s impossible to focus on anything else. At the mention of rest, Rumi’s body feels heavier. The weight of the world bears down on her.
“Yes, please.” Rumi croaks out, and is swept away in no time. She barely processes Jinu is right there with her, a hand on the small of her back, guiding her there. She only knows once she gets there, to a luxurious room with a more moderately sized bed and a balcony, and hears Jinu wish her a dreamless sleep.
Her boots are taken off, but not much else. Rumi doesn’t bother looking for spare clothes, she just curls under the covers and stares at the wall. Stops trying to stay in the moment and just lets herself drift.
Eventually, she must fall asleep, but Rumi doesn’t really feel it happen.