Chapter Text
When your patterns start to show, it makes the hatred wanna grow outta my veins. I don’t think you’re ready for the takedown. A demon with no feelings don’t deserve to live, it’s so obvious.
The music stopped, giving three girls a break after an intense practice session for their upcoming concert. Chests rose and fell erratically as they gasped for enough air; no matter how hard the choreography or the vocals, they would give one hundred percent for their fans—they couldn’t let them down this year's Idol Awards. After all, it would be their last performance before a one-month break.
“Rrrrrrumi…” said the youngest of the three. Zoey is the rapper and lyricist of HUNTR/X. Her youthful appearance has often surprised those who admire the girl—whose face and aura are incredibly sweet—but with her lyrics and rap, she’s won battles against much more well-known rappers.
“Please tell me we’re done practicing for today. Let’s go home…” she said in an exhausted voice, resting her chin on the group leader’s shoulder.
With a soft laugh, Rumi, the leader of the famous group, playfully shook her head. “We’ve practiced enough for today. I think it’s best we rest and continue tomorrow.”
Her natural beauty—almost regal—could leave anyone speechless. Besides being known as an extraordinary vocalist and leader, Rumi is the daughter of the late Miyeong from Sunlight Sisters. Many fans call this purple-haired girl “K-pop royalty” because of her lineage.
“Are we practicing again tomorrow? Ugh, Rumi… there’s a reason we call you a workaholic,” groaned Mira, the choreographer and main visual of the group. Her dancing skills are undeniable, with a natural talent for creating high-quality choreography—even if her family never recognized her abilities. Mira never gave up and decided to follow her dream, which led her to become one of the most extravagant dancers in the music industry.
A brief silence took over the dance room. Only the girls’ breathing could be heard, almost in unison. Without wasting time, Rumi chuckled as she grabbed water bottles—one for each of them.
“Sometimes I think you hate me… even just a little,” she joked, causing the others to laugh softly.
“Naaaah, we could never hate you~ But sometimes we do feel like hiding from you so we can skip practice,” said Zoey. As she finished the sentence, Rumi let out a playful gasp, pretending to be offended.
“How dare you say such things?! You’re a hater, Zoey!”
Laughter filled the previously quiet dance room. Anyone could see how close these three girls were—almost the perfect representation of what HUNTR/X truly stands for.
There was no doubt: the group was the most famous in K-pop, breaking records and gaining more fans every day. But behind HUNTR/X, there was a secret that only the girls and their mentor, Celine, knew.
Their true mission was as demon hunters, protecting the Honmoon and preventing the demon king, Gwi-ma, from corrupting people in the human world and dragging their souls into the underworld. If that were to happen, Gwi-ma would grow in power and humanity would be doomed to disappear at the hands of demons. That’s why the demon hunters emerged years ago. Generations of demon hunters have protected the Honmoon with one goal: to turn the current Honmoon into the Golden Honmoon.
Legend says that once it turns golden, Gwi-ma and the demons will be sealed forever.
The sound of laughter in the room faded into an uncomfortable silence when the door slowly opened. Celine, their mentor, entered with a neutral expression, though the urgency in her eyes was evident.
“Hey Celine, what’s up?” asked Zoey.
Even though Celine had trained them and taught them everything about being hunters, Zoey still found talking to her a bit awkward—especially because she was a fan of Sunlight Sisters, and Celine had once been part of that group.
“We need to talk. Now.”
Celine, the former Sunlight Sister, spoke with firm but respectful authority. Her words erased any trace of joy that remained in the room.
“Is everything okay?” Rumi asked, placing her hands gently on her teammates' shoulders.
“The Honmoon… something’s happening. Something I can’t explain.”
The silence held. The shocked expressions of the three girls were nearly indescribable.
“The Honmoon?! No way—Is it in danger? Is it Gwi-ma’s doing?” Zoey asked in alarm.
“Zoey—” Celine began, attempting to calm the youngest.
“Ugh, that demon never knows when to quit. I’ll chop him to pieces when I see him!”
“Zoey.”
“FEEL MY WRATH, GWI-MA!”
“ZOEY!”
“Yup?” the rapper turned to look at Celine with a sweet, innocent smile.
The older woman sighed, “No… It doesn’t seem to be Gwi-ma’s doing. At least not this time. It seems to be affected by some external force. I haven’t found a reason or clue to help us identify this strange… anomaly.”
Celine glanced briefly at Rumi before quickly looking at the other two girls.
Rumi flinched and looked away. ‘Anomaly.’ She knew Celine meant her. She always did. ‘Hide yourself, don’t let them see you, Rumi.’ Or worse: ‘Everything I know about demons tells me you’re a mistake—and it’s true. You’re only here because I made a promise to your mother. The mother you killed.’
Rumi had always felt guilty—for her mother’s death, for breaking Celine’s group, for being half-demon, for simply existing.
“We’ll do everything we can to fix this,” Mira said firmly, looking at her two companions before they all nodded together.
Celine sighed softly and left the dance room. The silence remained.
A week after Celine’s warning, everything felt different. The girls kept practicing and fulfilling their commitments, but an invisible tension had settled between them. Rumi pretended everything was normal, but each night she stayed alone in the practice room, examining her trembling hands under the dim light. The dark veins on her skin became more visible with each new moon.
“Why is the Honmoon destabilizing?... It couldn’t have been me, right? There’s no way.”
The ticking of the clock filled the heavy silence, but Rumi’s mind didn’t register the sound—too full of dark thoughts. Half demon, half human—a ‘curse’ she’d carried for 24 years. The blame always landed on her.
“Rumiiiii~”
A familiar voice called out to her. Zoey was approaching the practice room, her footsteps echoing louder with each step down the hallway. Panicked, Rumi pulled her sleeves down over her arms, trying to look as calm as possible—though nothing could be further from the truth.
“There you are, Rumi…” Zoey stepped into the room, walking toward the leader with a touch of concern on her face. “Mira and I got worried when we saw you leave the penthouse in silence, without telling us. Are you okay?” The younger girl looked tired—it was obvious. Rumi blamed herself. She believed she was the reason they were losing sleep, the reason they were worried.
“Zoey! I—uhm, I’m fine. I just... decided to get in some extra practice tonight! You know, so our next concert can be a huge success.” She lied, tugging her sweater sleeves down even further, nearly hiding her hands.
Zoey raised an eyebrow, noticing the gesture. “Rumi… uhm.” She thought about asking why Rumi had become obsessed with long sleeves, but decided it might upset her. “...If you need anything, we’re here for you.”
The purple-haired leader gave a small sigh and smiled slightly. “Don’t worry, Zozo. I’m fine, I promise.” She ruffled the rapper’s hair gently. For a moment, she noticed a faint blush on Zoey’s cheeks—something that struck her as oddly cute.
“Did you finish training? It’s really late. We should head home.”
“...Yeah. Let’s go. I think I need to rest a bit.”
They walked back to the penthouse together, the silence between them more comfortable than tense, though still not quite natural. Rumi felt like she was walking on glass. Every word, every glance from Zoey reminded her of what she was hiding. And while part of her wanted to confess everything, the bigger part—much bigger—just wanted to disappear.
That same night, while the other two slept, Rumi locked herself in the bathroom. She took off her sweater and stared at her arms in the mirror. The dark veins pulsed with a faint, liquid-like glow. Her reflection began to distort: for a moment, she wasn’t herself, but a demonic version of her. Glowing eyes. Grayish skin. Sharp canines. She blinked, and the image vanished—but the feeling lingered.
“…What’s happening to me?”
You’re a mistake. You shouldn’t exist.
The voice echoed in her head—hollow, distant. Then it changed—first Mira’s voice, then Zoey’s. They weren’t really speaking, but the pain felt real.
You can’t protect them. You can only destroy.
No. Stop.
Your presence disrupts harmony.
Please, stop.
Did you really think you could live a normal life?
Your mother died because of you!
“Ugh!” Rumi grabbed her head with both hands, shutting her eyes tightly. Small sobs escaped her lips as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her breathing was ragged, erratic. The bathroom felt like it was closing in on her.
The voices stopped. Only the soft sound of her sobs filled the air. She slid down to the cold tile floor, hugging her legs to her chest. The chill of the ceramic contrasted with the firestorm inside her.
“I just want to be normal… I just want to be enough…”
The light of dawn timidly slipped through the penthouse window. Zoey was the first to wake, rubbing her eyes groggily. She walked silently to the kitchen to get some water, but as she passed the bathroom, she noticed the door slightly ajar. She stopped.
A chill of worry crept down her back. She slowly pushed the door open. Rumi was sitting on the floor, asleep, with dried tear streaks on her cheeks and a wrinkled sweater. One of her sleeves had slipped down slightly, revealing part of her skin. There didn’t appear to be any wounds, but her expression was unsettling—even in sleep, she looked tense.
“Rumi…”
The leader startled awake at the sound of her name. She quickly tried to pull herself together, adjusting her sweater to hide her reality—but Zoey was already watching her seriously. She didn’t speak at first. Rumi looked into her eyes with panic.
“Zoey… I… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to—”
“You told me everything was fine, but here you are… asleep in the bathroom. Are you… sick?”
Zoey knelt slowly in front of her, as if afraid of scaring her. She didn’t touch her—just sat there, watching.
“No—No, I don’t know. I’m not sick, Zoey. I promise I’m fine, I really am—”
Rumi tried to dodge the question, but she knew the rapper was observant.
“Don’t lie to me, Rumi. After our last… argument, we promised to be honest with each other,” Zoey said with seriousness and concern. Her gaze hit Rumi like it was multiplied a hundredfold, as if all the tiles in the bathroom had eyes.
“I told you I’m fine.” She didn’t raise her voice, but the tone was firm—almost sharp. Zoey took a step back; that kind of voice reminded her of her parents... of their divorce. She shook her head and looked at the leader with resignation.
“Zoey, no—I didn’t mean to talk to you like that. I’m sorry. I swear on the Honmoon that I’m fine. I promise you with all my heart.”
She gently took the rapper’s hand, standing up with her.
She could see the slight relief in the younger girl’s eyes, though the worry still lingered.
“I don’t know if swearing on the Honmoon is right when it’s… destabilizing… but I’ll take your word. I really hope you’re telling the truth. I’d hate to find out you lied to us… again.”
Zoey hugged Rumi, standing on her tiptoes so she could rest her chin on the older girl’s shoulder.
Rumi felt a chill run up and down her spine. She didn’t want to hurt them again. Not again.
Zoey didn’t say anything for a few seconds. She just stayed there, arms wrapped around Rumi, as if she were afraid that if she let go, their leader would simply vanish. Finally, she exhaled softly against her shoulder.
“Just… promise me that if things get worse, you’ll tell us. I don’t want to find out when it’s already too late.”
Rumi nodded faintly, smiling—though it never reached her eyes. “I promise.”
But Rumi knew that promise was empty.
That day, the atmosphere in the penthouse was unusually quiet. Mira, though not very talkative in the mornings, noticed something off the moment she entered the kitchen and found Zoey pouring coffee in complete silence, her back hunched like the weight of the world was on her shoulders.
“Morning… everything okay?”
Zoey took a second to react, and when she did, it felt forced. “Ah. Yeah. Just didn’t sleep well.”
Mira looked at her with suspicion. “Does this have to do with Rumi?”
It was well known that Mira was good at reading people—almost like she’d gone through therapy after cutting ties with her family.
The silence that followed was louder than any answer. Zoey simply handed her a cup and avoided eye contact.
“Is there something going on that I’m not being told?” Mira insisted.
“She’s just… stressed. You know how she gets before big concerts. Especially the Idol Awards. Plus, there’s the whole Honmoon situation. It’s nothing new.”
“That doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’ to me.”
At that moment, Rumi emerged from her room—though she had actually slept in the bathroom. Her usual aura of polished, composed leadership was already falling apart the second Mira saw her. She pursed her lips when she noticed Rumi avoiding her gaze.
She felt it too—that invisible separation growing with each passing day.
“Good morning,” Rumi said, her voice perfectly measured.
“I guess,” Mira replied, making no effort to hide her annoyance.
Zoey, caught between them, immediately tensed up.
Breakfast was a ticking time bomb—spoons clinking too hard against mugs, plates being set down with just a bit too much force, and silences that stretched too long.
“We’ve got rehearsal at ten,” Rumi mentioned, trying to break the ice.
“I know,” Mira said, not looking up. “I’m not an idiot.”
The comment was like a slap. Rumi didn’t respond. She just looked down and continued eating slowly, each bite tasting like cardboard.
Zoey glanced between them, heart aching. This wasn’t what she had dreamed of when she joined HUNTR/X. They had been a family. But now, it felt like everything was cracking beneath her feet. And the worst part? She didn’t know how to stop it.
And deep down, Rumi knew it too: this was her fault.
During rehearsal, the energy between them was heavy—like the air was charged with a storm that refused to break. Rumi led the steps, but neither Mira nor Zoey moved with the same coordination as before. Everything felt… forced.
“Can we try that part again?” Rumi asked, trying to sound calm.
“There’s no point in repeating if we’re not even in sync,” Mira snapped, dropping her arms in frustration. “We’re not on the same page, and you know it.”
Zoey pressed her lips together, avoiding taking sides. Her gaze darted between them, but she said nothing. The tension paralyzed her. She’d always told herself that if she could keep them both happy, everything would be fine. Her fear of disappointing them made her feel responsible for the group’s harmony—even when it wasn’t her burden.
“Maybe we just need to breathe a little, okay? We can try again later,” Zoey suggested, her voice so conciliatory it almost sounded like a plea. “I know we’re all doing our best.”
“Then I suggest you focus,” Rumi said coldly, not realizing the sharpness in her tone until it was too late.
“Uh—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Her eyes widened, realizing what she’d done.
Mira looked at her like she was a stranger.
“Us? Do you seriously think this is our fault?”
Rumi pressed her lips together, holding back the words battling to escape. If she said what she really felt, she’d cross a line. Tears welled in her eyes.
“If something’s wrong, you should have the guts to say it out loud. Don’t expect us to guess,” Mira added.
The silence that followed was like a clean hit. No one moved. Zoey, heart pounding, wished she could freeze time. She didn’t want to pick sides. She just wanted everything to be okay—wanted all of them to feel loved. To not see that look of disappointment in anyone’s eyes.
Rumi finally turned, walking away toward the sound equipment.
“Five-minute break.”
Mira scoffed and left the studio without looking back. Zoey watched her go, then looked at Rumi’s back. For a moment, she thought she saw her shoulders trembling—but said nothing. She couldn’t.
And just like that—without shouting, without breaking anything—the group had begun to fall apart.
The hallway behind the studio was dimly lit, barely illuminated by the soft lights on the ceiling. Mira was sitting on one of the benches, headphones on—but with no music playing. She just needed an excuse not to talk. Zoey stood a few steps away, arms crossed, her heart pounding in her chest like a disoriented drum.
She wanted to approach, but didn’t know how. Her mind replayed what had happened minutes earlier over and over, mixing frustration and fear. A part of her wanted to scream, to ask what the hell was going on with Rumi. But a stronger part—more deeply rooted—told her to stay calm, to stay available, to not bother anyone, to not be a burden. She didn’t want to seem weak.
She sighed, swallowing down the urge to cry. She walked down the hallway to the vending machine—not because she was hungry, but because she needed to do something, anything, other than stand still and watch everything fall apart.
She inserted some coins without looking and pressed random buttons, just to fill the silence with mechanical noise. The hum, the soft clicks, the dull thud of a drink dropping into the compartment—anything was better than the oppressive silence hanging over her like a heavy cloud.
She bent down to grab the can, but stayed there longer than necessary, fingers wrapped around the cold aluminum, breathing deeply like she was trying not to break in front of a wall that couldn’t care less.
Mira watched her from the nearby bench, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor.
“I don’t know what’s going on with Rumi, but I don’t like it. She’s pushing us away.”
Her voice was low, but full of restrained anger, like she was choosing her words carefully not to break anything else.
Zoey turned her head slightly, avoiding eye contact.
“I don’t think she’s doing it on purpose… Maybe she just needs time.”
“Time? For what? To leave us in ruins? This isn’t just stress, Zoey. This is different. You feel it too, don’t you? Or are you going to tell me you don’t notice it?”
Zoey tightened her grip on the can, as if that would keep her grounded.
“Of course I feel it. But I don’t want to judge her without knowing everything.”
Mira sat up straighter.
“And when will we know? When it’s too late? You saw her this morning. How can you keep defending her?”
Zoey swallowed hard, uncomfortable.
“I’m not defending her. I just… don’t want to make things worse. She needs support.”
“I need support too,” Mira said, her tone cracking.
“I’m not made of steel, Zoey. And you shouldn’t pretend to be either.”
Zoey closed her eyes for a second. Her shoulders trembled slightly.
“I just want everything to be okay. I don’t want to choose between you two. I don’t want anyone to feel alone.”
Mira looked at her with less hardness, but just as much pain.
“Then we need Rumi to want that too.”
They both fell silent again. From another room, the faint sound of a rehearsal could barely be heard. Neither of them knew what to say. Neither knew how to start fixing what already felt broken.
Meanwhile, Zoey and Mira sat in that uncertainty, and Rumi had taken refuge behind a barely open door in the supply room nearby. She sat on the cold floor, knees tucked to her chest, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold in the storm within.
The voices had returned.
They whispered like blades dipped in venom—restless, relentless.
You’re destroying everything.
You’re not a leader, you’re a burden.
They hate you. And they should.
You’re a demon—that’s why everything you touch falls apart.
Rumi covered her ears tightly, but it was no use. The voices didn’t come from outside. They were part of her. An echo of every doubt she had tried to bury since HUNTR/X was formed. She leaned forward, forehead pressed to her knees, trying to control her breathing. She couldn’t let them see her like this. Not again.
She felt a familiar burn on her arm. With trembling fingers, she rolled up her sleeve. The marks had grown—spreading like cracks beneath her skin, dark and twisted down her forearm. They didn’t hurt physically… but they burned inside. As if every guilty thought fed them, made them stronger.
“It’s your fault, your fault, your fault.” She whispered to herself, tapping her head with each word.
She wanted to scream—but they’d hear her.
So she clenched her teeth and let the tears fall silently.
She couldn’t let the group fall apart—not after everything they had been through. But she also knew she didn’t have a solution.
And then, an idea appeared in her mind. A thought that seemed logical—almost comforting, in the middle of the chaos:
Maybe… If she disappeared—if she let Celine do what she should have done long ago—maybe she could finally be free of the pain. Of the guilt.
It was an excuse. She knew it. A poisoned justification to avoid facing what was really happening. But in her desperate mind, it felt like the only thing that made sense.
The marks crawled further, climbing toward her shoulder, pulsing like they were celebrating her silent sacrifice.
After the Idol Awards, she would go to Celine… and let her end it all.
Once the Honmoon turned golden, it would stabilize again. It would become strong. All the demons would be eliminated from the earth. Including her.
The break ended, and the other two girls returned to practice. When they entered the room, they saw Rumi dancing in front of the mirror, giving it her all.
Maybe they did need to step back for a while—Rumi’s movements were sharp and powerful. Perhaps this time, they could actually synchronize again.
But that was just a foolish thought.
As they resumed rehearsal—Rumi leading the rhythm and vocals, Zoey rapping her lines, and Mira showcasing her dancing skills—the situation unexpectedly exploded a few hours later.
“Rumi, that step goes with the left arm, not the right! Are you going to mess it up again?”
Mira’s words hit like a whip. The air froze.
Rumi blinked, taking a step back in surprise. Zoey opened her mouth to step in, but didn’t get the chance.
Rumi took a deep breath. “I’m fine, Mira. It was just a mistake.”
“A mistake you’ve made four times. Are you sure you’re fine? Because you’re wasting our time.”
“Mira, that’s enough!” Zoey shouted, alarmed now.
Mira crossed her arms, brows furrowed with a mixture of anger and disappointment.
“If you can’t handle this, just say so. We don’t have time for hesitation.”
Rumi clenched her fists at her sides. She wanted to stay composed, but her eyes were starting to tear up again.
“I told you—it was a mistake. You don’t need to yell at me for everything.”
Zoey stepped forward, placing herself between the two.
“Stop it, please! This isn’t a competition between us.”
Mira looked away, biting her lip but staying silent.
The tension in the room was suffocating. Even the music, still playing softly from the speakers, seemed to cower under the hostile atmosphere.
Rumi stared at the floor and whispered,
“I’m doing the best I can... I just need you to trust me.”
Silence returned, more uncomfortable than before.
Zoey looked at both of them, her voice trembling but steady.
“If we keep going like this, we won’t get anywhere. We need to talk. All three of us. No yelling. No hiding.”
“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about when someone decides to hide everything—again,” Mira snapped at Rumi.
A look of shock crossed Zoey’s face as she covered her mouth with her hands.
“I know you’re talking about me. You don’t have to attack like that. I’m not hiding anything—I’ve said it already,” Rumi responded firmly, arms crossed.
“I’m just stressed. The Honmoon is in danger. The Idol Awards are less than a week away, and we need to do something—a song that will help the Honmoon turn golden. Golden came so close to doing it…”
“And it never will if we’re not united. Rumi, we love you. We’ve been fighting off demons together for years. It hurts to argue like this—I don’t want what happened last time to happen again. But if you keep shutting us out… acting like this… the Honmoon won’t be saved,” Mira said, sincere this time.
Zoey looked at them both, a calm feeling warming her chest seeing the two people she loved most finally speaking, trying to fix things.
“Mira’s right. We can’t keep fighting, and you need to stop acting so secretive. It makes us think you are hiding something big again—and that we’ll only find out when it’s too late. And then we’ll hate you forever for lying.”
She laughed a little after accidentally dropping that bomb on Rumi.
“Zoey...”
“What? Oh—oops. But you get our point, right?”
Rumi gave in and smiled faintly.
“Yes. I get it. I’m sorry for making you worry. I’m just stressed. That’s all. Let’s do everything we can to stop Gwi-ma from exploiting the Honmoon’s instability.”
“Happy fans… Happy Hooooonmoon!” the three shouted together, bringing their hands together in the center and raising them high after finishing the chant.
The practice room fell into silence after that shout of unity.
A final echo bounced off the walls as the three girls exchanged soft smiles. The tension still hung in the air, but for the first time that week, there was a sliver of light.
“We’re done for today,” Rumi said, grabbing her water bottle and wiping the sweat from her forehead.
Mira nodded, releasing a long, exhausted sigh.
Zoey just nodded quietly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
That night, they returned home with renewed determination.
The Honmoon had to be saved—and the only way to do that was through a new song. One that said everything. That left no room for doubt. A song that would destroy the demons.
“...Any idea what to write?” Zoey asked first.
“Nope.”
“Nuh uh.”
“...Damn,” Zoey muttered, flopping onto the couch with her notebook in hand.
“Come on, we have to think of something. Uh… what do we hate most?” Zoey asked.
“Demons. Duh,” Mira replied without hesitation.
Rumi cleared her throat. “Besides demons… what else can we add?”
“Oh! I know, I know—those boy group guys, what were they called? The Saja Boys! They’re all jerks. I read one of them pushed a fan just for asking for an autograph—there’s video proof!”
“I can’t believe people still support them… Soda Pop isn’t even that good.”
“...It’s kinda catchy.”
“Zoey, no.”
“...You’re my soda pop, my little soda pop—”
“Zoey!”
“Okay, okay! Sorry…”
Rumi chuckled. Seeing the two of them bicker playfully reminded her of the old days.
“I hate them anyway. All male idols are the same—every week there’s news about some boy group member doing something awful to their fans. Or worse,” Zoey grumbled, crossing her arms.
“Then we just need to bring them down. Like we bring down demons.”
Mira nodded confidently, and Zoey gave her two thumbs up in approval.
“Bring down… That’s it!”
Rumi jumped up, looking at the rapper and the dancer.
“Takedown! That’s the song’s name!”
“So sweet, so easy on the eyes, but hideous on the inside…” Zoey spoke aloud, watching the others for approval.
“Whole life spreading lies, but you can’t hide,” Mira added with certainty.
“Baby, nice try!” Rumi chimed in with a bright spark in her eyes.
“I love it! I already have ideas for the lyrics—we’re doing it, girls!”
Zoey opened her notebook to start writing immediately. Rumi grabbed her electric guitar and plugged it into the production board. Mira took her place at the piano, preparing a base melody to start crafting their new song for the upcoming Idol Awards.
They began writing the lyrics, each line bursting with force.
So sweet, so easy on the eyes, but hideous on the inside
Whole life spreading lies, but you can’t hide, baby, nice try
I’m 'bout to switch up these vibes, I finally opened my eyes
It’s time to kick you straight back into the night
Zoey scribbled furiously while singing each line. Mira nodded to the rhythm, striking the keys with power and precision. Rumi said nothing, but her chords were just as aggressive as the lyrics. Inside, however, every verse felt like an open wound.
’Cause I see your real face and it’s ugly as sin
Time to put you in your place ’cause you’re rotten within
When your patterns start to show, it makes the hatred wanna grow outta my veins
Rumi felt a sting deep inside. Those lines struck her like a blade. But she kept her face calm, smiling and playing like everything was fine. She couldn’t let them see it. Not now. Not when they were so close.
I don’t think you’re ready for the takedown
Break you into pieces in a world of pain
’Cause you’re all the same, yeah, it’s a takedown
A demon with no feelings, don’t deserve to live—it’s so obvious
Mira recited the lines at the piano—each word landing like a final judgment. Rumi swallowed hard. She didn’t speak. She didn’t flinch. But inside, those words pierced her soul. A part of her thought they were aimed at her… a reflection of what she was hiding. But she couldn’t break now.
Mira stood and began choreographing.
“It’s a takedown, I’ma take you out, you break down like, ‘What?’” she sang with a proud grin.
“정신을 놓고 널집 밟고 갈을 시겨놔!” (tl. Let go of your mind, I’ll stomp you down and carve it in) Zoey shouted in perfect Korean.
Mira burst into laughter.
“Was that a direct threat?”
“Absolutely,” Zoey said with a sharp smile.
They finished writing the song between laughter, sharp verses, and a melody that carried all the weight of their emotions. When the final “Da-da-da, down” echoed through the room, they sat in silence—breathless, but filled with pride.
Zoey broke the silence first.
“Girls… we did it. This song is fire.”
Mira collapsed onto the floor, exhausted but satisfied.
“Yeah… it’s scary how good it turned out.”
Rumi sat carefully beside them, setting her guitar aside. She didn’t say much, but her face said everything. Even though each word had shaken her inside, she had stayed strong. Despite the verses about demons cutting into her soul—she couldn’t afford to falter. The Honmoon depended on them. On this song.
Zoey wrapped an arm around both of them. “I’m proud of us. Even after the arguments… this, this is who we are. A team. A team that’s going to win the Idol Awards, save the Honmoon, and kick some demonic ass.”
Night had already fallen over Seoul when the girls—exhausted but content—finally let themselves relax. The penthouse was quiet; soft lights glowed in the living room, and a night breeze drifted through the open windows. The energy that had fueled Takedown still lingered in the air—like a loud echo of something deeper than just a song.
Zoey sat on the floor, notebook in hand, reading the lyrics over and over. Though tired, a persistent smile played on her lips. “I can’t believe what we did today,” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. “This is going to shake everyone.”
Mira, lying on her back on the couch with a pillow over her face, grunted in agreement.
“If they don’t cancel us for how savage the lyrics are, that is.”
“If they do, good. Means we hit where it hurts,” Zoey replied with a soft laugh.
Rumi watched silently from the kitchen, a glass of water in her hands. Her smile was small, faint. Every part of her body ached—not from the physical effort, but from the constant knot in her chest. She had survived one more night without breaking. She had held the mask in place.
“I’m glad we’re… closer again,” Rumi finally said, leaning against the doorway. Her voice was quiet but sincere.
“Thank you for not giving up on me.”
Zoey looked up and grinned ear to ear.
“We never could, Rumi. We’re a team, remember? HUNTR/X girls don’t quit.”
Mira slowly sat up, tossing the pillow aside.
“And if one of us does… we drag her back. Kicking and screaming if necessary.”
Rumi laughed softly. She appreciated those words more than she could say out loud. But deep inside, the thought remained cold and steady—a shadow stuck to her heart: After the Idol Awards, it would all end. That would be her way of protecting them. Her silent farewell.
“Let’s go to sleep,” she finally said, placing the glass in the sink.
“We’ve earned it.”
Zoey and Mira nodded. Each went to their room, feet dragging from exhaustion but with spirits a little lighter.
Rumi, however, stayed a little longer—watching the night through the window. She placed a hand over her chest, right where her heartbeat felt irregular. The marks beneath her skin hadn’t disappeared. But for now, she could pretend everything was okay.
“Just a little longer… Hold on, Rumi. Just until the Honmoon turns golden.”
The following week began with a silent storm. As the long-awaited Idol Awards drew closer, the atmosphere grew denser with each passing hour. Every day was scheduled down to the second—interviews, rehearsals, wardrobe fittings, production meetings… but none of that could compare to the pressure pounding beneath Rumi’s skin.
Despite the outward chaos, each member of HUNTR/X found brief moments of calm. Zoey spent her nights writing verses in her notebook, usually with headphones on and fast-paced rhythms echoing in her mind. Mira channeled her tension into new dance routines, sometimes creating steps even she couldn’t follow. And Rumi…
Rumi watched. In silence. She studied her own hands, her teammates’ expressions, the patterns forming in the Honmoon. She barely slept. Each night she locked herself in the empty practice room, as if searching for answers between the sweaty walls and echoes of the past.
The night before the Idol Awards, the three girls were in their respective rooms. The penthouse was quiet—but it wasn’t a peaceful silence. It was the calm before a hurricane.
Rumi stood in front of her mirror, her “Takedown” costume already hanging near the bed. The outfit shimmered in metallic gold—a powerful symbol. If everything went well, this would be the song that restored balance to the Honmoon.
But it would also be her final song.
She opened her personal notebook, the one she had kept hidden since the start of her career. Inside were unsung lyrics, buried thoughts, and… a letter. She began writing it with trembling hands, as if leaving instructions for those left behind.
Dear Zoey and Mira,
If you’re reading this, it means everything went well.
That the Honmoon shines again, that Gwi-ma has been sealed, and that you’re both safe.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything... It was never because I didn’t trust you, but because I was afraid.
Afraid of losing you, of hurting you.
Afraid of being the one to ruin everything we built together.
I… I’m half demon. I could never bring myself to say it.
I had to hide, because everything we’ve learned tells us I’m an anomaly… a mistake…
And even though I tried to be strong, to earn your love and respect, there are things that can’t be erased.
But if this is what it takes to save you—then it will have been worth it.
Thank you for loving me, even when I didn’t deserve it.
With all my heart,
Rumi
She folded the letter carefully and tucked it under her pillow. Then she stepped out onto the balcony, staring at the city lights below. The wind kissed her skin as she breathed in deeply.
“Mom… if you can see me, give me the strength to do this right.”
The day of the Idol Awards dawned bright and chaotic. The girls were driven backstage in a black van, surrounded by security, staff, and makeup artists. Rumi’s heart beat with a mix of excitement and despair. With every step, she felt the energy inside her rise—like even breathing could unleash something uncontrollable.
While getting her makeup done, Zoey took her hand silently. Rumi looked over, surprised. “You’re not alone, Rumi. You never will be.”
Mira, sitting nearby, nodded while adjusting clips in her hair. “We’re going to shine. All three of us.” And for a moment, Rumi allowed herself to believe that maybe… just maybe… everything would turn out fine.
Before stepping on stage, the girls sat together in the dressing room, fully dressed in their golden outfits, surrounded by the murmur of staff coming and going. The air was charged—with nerves, anticipation, and something deeper. Zoey was the first to break the silence. “I remember when I could barely rap on beat… back in the U.S., I used to spend my breaks alone just to practice. And now… here I am, about to tear up the stage with you guys.”
“You were good from day one,” Mira replied, crossing one leg over the other. “You just needed to believe it. Now you’re rhyming in two languages. You deserve this as much as anyone.” Rumi smiled, her gaze soft as she looked at them. “I always knew we’d become something great. The moment I saw you both, I felt like our souls were meant to connect.”
Zoey made a face, blushing slightly. “That was… surprisingly cheesy, Rumi.”
“Cheesy but true,” Mira added with a soft laugh.
The room felt warm. Safe. But as if the universe sensed it, the harmony was shattered by an ill-timed comment. “No matter what happens… today ends what began years ago,” Rumi said, almost to herself, staring at her reflection.
Zoey raised an eyebrow. “What? What does that mean?”
Rumi blinked. “Nothing, just a figure of speech. I mean… today the Honmoon will finally be complete. Today it turns golden—just like Celine said.”
Mira stood abruptly. “That’s not what you said. You said, ‘ends what began years ago.’ That sounds like something else. Rumi… what are you hiding?”
“I’m not hiding anything, seriously. It was just a phrase.”
“You always have an excuse, don’t you?” Mira snapped, her expression tense. “We promised not to keep secrets. And right before we go on stage, you say that?”
Zoey crossed her arms, concern softening her voice. “Rumi… tell me you’re not planning something. Tell me you’re not…”
“I’m not planning anything. I just want everything to go right,” Rumi cut in—louder than usual, but also more fragile.
Mira scoffed. “It’s hard to believe you when you can’t even meet our eyes without shaking. If something happens tonight and you didn’t tell us, I won’t forgive you.”
Silence flooded the dressing room. Zoey looked down, uncertain. Rumi, throat tight, couldn’t find the right words.
A staff member peeked in. “Five minutes.”
Mira was the first to leave. Zoey hesitated—torn between staying with Rumi or following Mira. She chose the latter, uncertain. Rumi was left alone for a moment, her reflection trembling in her eyes. For a second, she thought she could say everything. But it was already too late.
The performance began with "Golden." The lights in the stadium dimmed for a moment, leaving the crowd in tense silence, anticipating what was to come. Then, a cascade of golden sparks rained over the stage, as if the Honmoon itself were blessing the moment. The first note rang out—soft, but powerful—marking the start of HUNTR/X’s most symbolic song.
Rumi began her part, her voice clear and steady, filling the air. Mira followed with a hypnotic dance solo, her movements sharp and fluid. Zoey came in with her verse, telling her story with heart and grit. The crowd sang every word, and slowly, onstage, a subtle change began to unfold, the Honmoon above them began to glow—faintly at first, a soft golden hue—as if responding to the emotion in the room.
When Rumi reached her solo, the atmosphere transformed. Her voice soared into a high note, and the Honmoon shimmered like it was awakening to the sound. Zoey and Mira exchanged quick, intense glances—they noticed it too. This wasn’t a coincidence. The song was working.
What once felt like an impossible dream was now happening in front of their eyes.
They ended “Golden” with an explosion of light and a final, extended chord. The stage pulsed with emotion, and the audience erupted. The three girls held hands, breathing heavily but smiling with sincerity.
For a second, it felt like nothing could go wrong.
Then, the lights dropped again.
A deep, distorted beat rumbled through the speakers. It was the beginning of "Takedown."
Zoey stormed the stage with fierce energy, spitting her opening verse with razor precision. Mira followed with commanding choreography—each move slicing through the air. And then, in the center of it all, Rumi emerged from pillars of golden fire, her voice steady and resonant with every line.
The crowd was wild, feeding off every word, every move, every spark of emotion. But on stage, beneath the perfection, something felt unstable. Mira’s eyes, more than once, strayed from the choreography to Rumi—not out of awe, but concern. Her anger from earlier hadn’t completely faded.
Zoey, though focused, held her lips tight, like she was holding back a question she didn’t want to ask. And yet, it was working. Somehow, the tension fed the performance. Every line, every step, every breath—they all hit harder because of the things left unsaid.
When the first chorus exploded, Rumi turned toward her teammates. The golden light hit her face like a spotlight from heaven. Her eyes locked with Mira’s. For a split second—they connected. Mira didn’t smile. But she nodded. It was enough.
The second verse hit even harder. The bridge before the climax built unbearable tension. The screens behind them showed hooded figures, demons shattering into dust, and finally, a massive golden moon rising to fill the entire backdrop. Then, Rumi stepped forward.
Her voice rose—clear, unshakable—cutting through every layer of sound, reaching the soul of everyone watching.
A demon with no feelings don’t deserve to live—it’s so obvious.
The line sliced through the air like a final verdict. It wasn’t just lyrics—it was pained feeling behind it. The Honmoon above them suddenly flared, vibrating in the rafters like it had been struck by her voice. The stage trembled with supernatural resonance.
In that instant, the crowd fell silent. Lights flickered violently. The LED panels glitched, flashing distorted images of the Honmoon—and Rumi’s face, interlaced with shadowy demonic forms trying to escape from the screens. No one knew if it was part of the show or a catastrophic glitch.
Zoey turned to Mira with wide eyes. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.
That line—they had debated it for hours, made sure it carried the right emotional weight. But hearing it come from Rumi, with so much finality—it felt different. Too real. Too final.
A chill ran down Mira’s spine.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
That delivery… that tone... It wasn’t performance. It was farewell. The resentment she'd felt minutes ago crumbled into pure fear. She knew Rumi too well.
This wasn’t acting.
Zoey moved with more force than the choreography called for—not from energy, but panic. Her chest twisted with excitement and a growing dread she couldn’t explain. She kept singing, kept dancing, but her eyes were locked on Rumi—hair flowing from the stage fans, her posture steady, but her presence… off.
The beat of “Takedown” reached its climax. The golden moon on the screen pulsed with every stomp, every lyric. Everything had been rehearsed down to the millisecond. Everything—except this.
The veins in Rumi’s neck and arms began to glow—barely at first. Zoey thought it was a lighting effect. Mira knew it wasn’t. She knew this wasn’t in the staging.
Then, during the bridge’s choreography, Rumi dropped briefly to one knee. That wasn’t part of the routine. Her hand gripped the floor like she couldn’t stay upright.
“RUMI!” Mira shouted without her mic. She was too far to break formation in time.
Rumi rose again. She got back into position. Then, she lifted her head. She smiled. And in a blink—She vanished. A dark, violet mist—like smoke trapped in a whirlwind of light—marked the spot where she’d been.
The crowd screamed—confused.
Mira and Zoey looked around in disbelief.
Rumi was gone.
She hadn’t fallen. She hadn’t been pulled offstage. She had simply… evaporated into thin air.
“Did you see that...?” Zoey whispered, breathless.
Mira nodded slowly, her eyes still locked on the empty space. “That wasn’t a visual effect. That wasn’t in the script.”
“Did she… teleport?”
“But how…? Only demons can teleport…” Zoey trailed off. Her voice cracked.
“Don’t tell me…”
Both fell into silence. It was impossible. Neither of them knew Rumi had demon powers. To them, she was just another hunter. Powerful. Mysterious, sure—but human. Seeing her disappear like that changed everything.
“We didn’t know…” Zoey whispered. “Why didn’t she tell us…?” Mira didn’t answer. She was already walking—fast—toward the backstage area. Her face was pale, eyes wide with fear. Zoey followed.
When the lights finally dimmed and the curtain fell, chaos erupted backstage. Staff shouting over radios, producers demanding answers, panicked runners sprinting down corridors. Mira and Zoey stumbled off the stage, breathless, drenched in sweat—but their minds on one thing.
Rumi.
“She can’t have left like this… without telling us anything,” Zoey said, her voice barely holding together.
“No… this isn’t normal. Something’s very wrong,” Mira replied, her eyes red. “You don’t just vanish mid-performance. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t part of the show.”
“Even if she’s… even if she’s a demon… she never did anything wrong. Right?” Zoey asked, her voice cracking. “We’ve known her for years…”
“She knew we wouldn’t take it well.”
“But we would’ve tried to understand! She knows that!”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Mira said, shaking her head. “We have to find her. Something’s not right. I’m not… I’m not at peace. Something is really wrong.”
The night was thick like ink, filled with omens and swallowed sobs. Back at the penthouse, the echo of the performance still lingered in the air—but Rumi’s room was completely silent.
Zoey was rifling through drawers, books, even behind the mirror, while Mira carefully lifted the blankets on the bed.
“You said she was talking like she was about to leave… there has to be something,” Mira murmured, her eyes burning with urgency.
And then, her fingers brushed against something firm beneath the pillow. She pulled it out slowly: a folded letter, handled with care, with her name and Zoey’s on the front. Her heart dropped.
“Zoey… I found it.”
The younger girl rushed to her side, and together they unfolded the paper.
The very first words made the world shrink around them.
Dear Zoey and Mira...
And with those opening lines, they knew something had been decided without them. They didn’t finish reading it. They were afraid of what would come next.
Instead, they ran. Ran out of the penthouse—because deep down, they had an idea where Rumi might be. And they prayed to be wrong.
They pushed through a side door and sprinted into the forest. Something inside told them she’d be there—and they hoped, hoped, it wasn’t too late. Their faces were tense, eyes searching through the shadows, moving through the trees, guided by the distant glow of the Honmoon rising over the hill.
Their hearts pounded to the rhythm of a truth they didn’t want to confirm.
They followed the path to the ancient ritual clearing—a sacred, long-abandoned site once used by the old demon hunters. At the center stood a great stone-rooted tree, a place where the earth itself whispered its secrets.
And beneath that tree… waited Celine.
But there was something more.
No.
No. It can’t be.
Oh god.
In front of them, standing still with the ceremonial blade trembling in her grasp, was Celine. Rumi’s warm blood stained the edge of the sword. Celine’s hands were steady—but her face... her face looked carved from stone. Only her eyes betrayed her—the cracks inside: a storm of relief and devastation.
"It’s done, Miyeong… I kept my promise. And at last… I’ve done it. All demons have been sealed..."
Rumi lay atop the sealing mark etched with ancient Honmoon symbols, a faint smile—of peace or surrender—etched on her lips. Her body was already beginning to dissolve into fragments of light and violet ash, as if the demon within her had finally let go.
"RUMI!”
Mira’s scream tore from her throat, only to be smothered the instant her eyes fell on the body of their leader, their friend… No—the love of their life—disappearing like stardust.
“NO! NO! WHAT DID YOU DO?!”
Mira dropped to her knees at the edge of the circle, her hands frantically reaching out to stop the inevitable. Zoey stood frozen, breath caught in her chest, disbelief hollowing her insides. Celine didn’t move. She only lowered the sword, slowly.
“It had to be done. Rumi... should never have existed.”
Zoey snapped.
“Shut up! She saved the Honmoon. She saved all of us.”
“And to save us, she had to die. It wasn’t hate. It was compassion. Rumi chose this.”
Trembling, Zoey reached into her jacket pocket and pulled something out. A crumpled piece of paper.
The letter.
They hadn’t finished reading it.
The damn letter.
Her lips barely moved as her eyes scanned the part they’d never reached. But she already knew. She already knew what it would say. And the truth shattered her. The letter slipped from her fingers.
Mira stepped beside her, wordless, and pulled her into a crushing embrace. Together, they watched as the last flickers of Rumi’s light disappeared—a slow, fragile scattering of violet and gold. The silence was total, broken only by Zoey’s muffled sobs as her face pressed into Mira’s shoulder. Neither of them could speak. Nothing they said could undo what had been done.
The golden circle at the edge of the clearing still glowed faintly, as if Rumi’s energy was still embedded there—in every ancient rune, every consecrated stone. The Honmoon above them shone with serene, perfect brilliance,
as if celebrating its final purification—unaware of the tragedy it demanded.
Zoey gently pulled away, wiping her tears clumsily. Her eyes were hollow but firm. She walked to the paper lying on the ground—Rumi’s letter, now dirt-stained and soaked with dew. She picked it up with shaking hands and, this time, read aloud
“It was never because I didn’t trust you… but because I was afraid. Afraid of losing you… of hurting you. Of being the one who ruined everything we built together…”
Her voice cracked at the end.
Mira stepped beside her, holding a corner of the letter, reading the last lines silently. They were written in smudged ink—as if drawn in tears.
“Thank you for loving me… even when I didn’t deserve it.”
Mira clutched the letter to her chest.
“She never had to do this alone… She should never have carried this by herself.”
Zoey nodded, then turned her gaze toward Celine, still standing like a statue beneath the tree.
“You knew this would happen,” Zoey said softly, but sharply.
Celine didn’t deny it. Her voice was calm, but unwavering.
“She knew too. She came to me tonight. Said she wanted to end it all. That she couldn’t control what was inside her anymore.”
“We could’ve helped her! There had to be another way!” Zoey shouted, but the words vanished into the night. Anger and grief tangled in her throat.
Celine looked down.
“There wasn’t. Not when the Honmoon began to bleed because of her existence. Not when the balance itself was cracking. She understood that before anyone else. She was brave.”
Mira stepped away, walking toward the center of the circle where only a single feather from Rumi’s costume and her HUNTR/X pendant remained. She knelt, picked them up delicately, and returned to Zoey.
“Bravery doesn’t matter,” Mira whispered. “She did it alone. And that’s what hurts the most.”
The wind picked up, scattering the final motes of light where Rumi had been. Zoey closed her eyes, as if trying to trap the sound of her voice, the flash of her smile, the presence that would never return.
Far above, the glow of the Honmoon still shimmered through the clouds now reclaiming the sky. The world had been saved. But at a cost no amount of peace or glory could ever repay.
That night, in silence, the two remaining girls made a vow—one that needed no words.
HUNTR/X would end here.
The Honmoon now shined with a pure, perfect gold.
But it didn’t matter.
Because Rumi wasn’t here to see it.