Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Jinu... No!"

Rumi landed on the edge of a hanok rooftop, the wind lifting her hair as she gazed upon the city from a distance.

Lights flickered in windows like fireflies. Laughter echoed from alleys and balconies. The street vendors returned, calling out sweet and savory promises from every corner. Neon signs buzzed and hummed.

Seoul was all back to normal...

"I'm sorry... for... everything."

She wrapped her arms around herself, not from cold, but from a stillness that had taken root in her chest. For three months, she’d walked through streets that felt half-empty, like something sacred had gone missing.

"No... I wanted to set you free."

She exhaled.

The skyline shimmered in the dusk, catching the last bit of light.

"You did. You gave me... my soul back."

It no longer hurt or shamed her to look at her patterns.

Maybe the cracks were still there—still aching—but now, they bloomed with something new. Not forgetting. Never that. But living with it, breathing through the gain and... the loss.

Rumi leaned forward just slightly, her palm flat on the cool stone of the building. Above her, the stars began to wake.

"And now... I give it to you." 

“I don't know... when I'll feel whole again,” she whispered to no one, tears brimming in her eyes. "I miss you, Jinu."

Chapter Text

Rumi let go first before they stepped apart.

“I'm sorry if that came off rude, but-” Jinu said, brows furrowed, confusion threading his voice. “How do you know me?”

Rumi looked away too quickly. “Oh, uh—I must’ve mistaken you for someone else,” she mumbled, forcing a laugh. “I guess I just... got caught up in the moment.”

Jinu raised an eyebrow. “Caught up in the moment? You were the one who bumped into me.”

“Right, right. The bumping,” Rumi said, now fiddling with her sleeves. “Life’s just full of weird coincidences. Like...” She glanced down, suddenly distracted. “Like how I just realized I’m wearing my pajama pants.”

Jinu chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Pajama pants, huh?” He paused, his smile turning genuine. “They kind of suit you.”

Rumi blinked, surprised. “Really?" 'That's not what you said before!' she thought, thinking back to the first time they met... alone. "I was gonna change before I left, but then I thought—” she shrugged dramatically, “what’s the point of trying to be perfect?” 'Or seeing you again... ALIVE!'

“I like it,” Jinu said with a small smile, making Rumi blush. “It’s... refreshing, seeing someone not following fashion norms." He went back on topic. "But seriously—are you sure we’ve never met?”

She laughed, awkward again. “No! I swear. I’m just really good at remembering faces. You probably look familiar. Like someone I’d run into at a party, maybe. One where people wear pajama pants.”

Jinu grinned. “So, I’m the kind of guy who’d wear their sleeping pants to a party?”

“Well, yeah,” Rumi said with a smirk. “You’ve got that vibe—the ‘too cool to care’ thing going on.”

He raised an eyebrow playfully. “And yet you’re the one wearing them.”

“Hey, I’m just embracing it,” she said with mock confidence. “A little chaos isn’t the worst thing.”

Jinu’s gaze lingered on her. “I don’t think it’s chaos. I think it’s... spontaneous. You seem like someone who doesn’t mind when things don’t go perfectly.”

Rumi blushed again, looking away. “Maybe... Or I just get embarrassed easily, so I pretend it’s on purpose.”

He smiled. “Well, if that’s the case, it’s working. It’s cute.”

Rumi's eyes widened, her cheeks still pink. “Cute? Are you serious?”

“Totally,” Jinu said with a shrug. “You’re... different, in a way I can’t explain.”

Rumi laughed under her breath. “Well... thanks? I think?” She hesitated. “And, uh, forget I said anything about the party.”

Jinu paused, a flicker of recognition lighting his expression. “Wait a second, your name is... Rumi, isn't it?"

She froze. 'Does he remember...?'

"From Huntrix?”

"Oh..." Rumi frowned, but she hoped he didn't see the second of disappointment flash across her face. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“I thought I recognized you,” he said with a soft chuckle. “You guys are pretty much, well, everywhere.”

She looked down, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah, I guess.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “One side of being famous, you're advertised on everything.”

Jinu noticed the shift and softened his tone. “Must be tough, especially in a group like Huntrix.”

“Yeah, it is,” she said quickly, then sighed. “It’s just—people expect you to always be on, you know? But sometimes... It’s not that simple.”

He nodded, understanding. “I can imagine. Most people only see the spotlight, not the struggle behind it.”

Rumi met his eyes, a little surprised by his insight. “Exactly. And... for a second there, I thought you didn’t recognize me, which was a relief, " she said, half lying. 

Jinu smiled gently. “I didn’t want to make it awkward. I figured you’d appreciate me talking to you like a person. Not a star.”

She blinked, her expression softening. “Honestly? Yeah. No one sees me like that anymore. Not since the debut.”

“Well, I see you,” Jinu said. That made her heart flutter. “Not as a pop idol. As someone real. Not perfect. Just... you.” He glanced away, giving her a little space. “That probably sounds cliché, huh?”

But Rumi let out a quiet laugh, her eyes brightening. “No. It’s actually... nice to hear. Most people only see what they want to. You're also... different.”

He grinned and gave her a playful wink. “Maybe it’s because I’m not a fan.”

She laughed softly, looking at him through her lashes. “Yeah. Maybe that’s it. Just a random guy who bumped into me on the street.”

Rumi, sensing she should step away first, gave him a soft smile. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jinu,” she said, already preparing to turn away. “I guess I should probably head out...” Her voice drifted off, caught somewhere between polite exit and hesitation.

Before she could retreat, Jinu reached out instinctively, his hand finding hers with surprising gentleness.

“Wait,” he said, his voice low, as if unsure whether to speak or stay silent.

Rumi’s eyes widened slightly, face flushing, remembering the time when he grabbed her just like this. “Oh. Uh... what is it?”

He hesitated, glancing down with a slight tint on his cheeks, then back up at her. “I was wondering...” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Can you spare a few more minutes? I mean, if you’re not busy. I thought we could... walk around a little longer. Talk. No plans, no pressure. Just... like two normal people.”

She blinked, clearly caught off guard. Her gaze dropped to their joined hands before slowly rising to meet his eyes again. Her heart skipped—unexpected, uninvited, but undeniably there.

“Oh,” she murmured, trying to steady her voice. “That’s... not a bad idea.” She paused, a flicker of doubt creeping in. “But why me? I mean... You don’t even know me.”

Jinu smiled lightly, the grip on her hand still soft, but somehow warm and grounding. “True,” he admitted. “But I think that’s the point. Sometimes you meet someone, and for some reason, it just feels easy to be yourself. No masks. No pretending.”

Rumi let out a quiet laugh, a little breathy and a little uncertain. “A mask, huh? Yeah... I wear one of those pretty well.” She tilted her head, studying him. “But maybe... I could use a break from pretending.” Her voice dipped to something softer. “You’re sure, though? You want to spend time with someone like me? I mean... I’m just this random girl in pajama pants and, well... a lot of emotional baggage.”

“I’m not worried about your pants,” Jinu said with a grin. “You seem interesting. And real. I think you could use a little more of that in your life.”

Her shoulders eased slightly. A soft smile appeared—smaller than the one before, but more genuine. “I did just say I wanted to walk and talk, so... I guess I can’t back out now.”

“No backing out,” he said, already gently tugging her along the stone path. “Come on. Let’s see where the night takes us.”

They wandered through the quiet streets of the old city, where the narrow alleys wove between wooden hanok houses and lanterns swayed gently in the breeze. The scent of incense lingered in the air, grounding them in the present.

“So,” Rumi said after a moment, her eyes drifting to the rooftops, “why do you think we’re here? Wandering around a place like this. It feels... different. Like it’s separate from the rest of the world.”

Jinu looked around, taking in the contrast of history and calm. “Yeah, it's like a time capsule,” he said thoughtfully. “Honestly, I’m not sure why I came here. Maybe I needed a break from everything—the rush, the noise. This place... it slows you down. Makes you realize there’s more to life.”

Rumi nodded slowly, her gaze catching on a red lantern dancing in the wind. “I get that,” she said quietly. “I’ve been so busy trying to keep up with everything, I forget to stop.”

Jinu’s voice was soft. “Right? Being here—it makes you reflect. Makes you feel small, but in a comforting way. Like you’re part of something bigger.”

She smiled faintly, her voice laced with disbelief. “I never imagined having this kind of conversation in the middle of a heritage district. I always pictured being surrounded by fans or cameras, not...” She gestured around. “...this.”

Jinu laughed. “No cameras here. Makes you wonder what all the noise is really for, you know? When you could be here—existing, not performing.”

Her voice lowered again, thoughtful and uncertain. “I’ve been chasing things for so long—trying to fit into this image that doesn’t feel like me anymore.” She glanced at him, a little embarrassed. “I probably sound like I’m rambling.”

“You don’t,” he said, sincerely. “I get it. I wonder the same thing sometimes—what I’m even after. But maybe it’s not about chasing anything. Maybe it’s about being where you are, with someone who doesn’t expect anything from you.”

Rumi turned to look at him, surprised by how much his words resonated. “Someone who’s not expecting...” She smiled quietly. “Yeah. I think I’m starting to understand.”

He nodded, his voice now just above a whisper. “The world’s loud. Everyone wants you to fit in, be perfect, be something. But places like this...” He motioned to the street they were walking on. “They remind you it’s okay to let go of all that.”

She looked around again, then back at him with something close to gratitude. “I’ve spent so much time trying to be someone else... I never thought I could just... be.”

Jinu smiled, not needing to say much. “Yeah. Just be.”

The night continued to settle softly around them, wrapping the quiet streets in a hush that neither seemed ready to break. Rumi shifted her weight, hands tucked in her sleeves, as if waiting—hoping—for a reason to stay a little longer.

Jinu opened his mouth, closed it, then finally scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “So... this was nice,” he said, his voice a little too casual. “And, uh...” He glanced at her, then away. “Would you maybe... want to do this again? Like, not bumping into each other on a random street. I mean—like an actual... ?”

Rumi snorted. “Are you asking me out?”

“I think I am,” Jinu said, eyes wide.

She blinked, surprised, but her smile came slowly and real. “Yeah,” she said, heart fluttering. “I think I’d like that.”

They stood beneath the soft glow of a flickering lantern, the quiet hum of the old city around them starting to fade. Neither seemed in a rush to leave, not really. The moment lingered—unspoken, but understood.

“So...” Jinu said slowly, rocking on his heels. “If we were, hypothetically, going to do this again—y’know, with chairs, menus, and all—how exactly would that work?”

Rumi smirked. “You mean because of the whole ‘famous pop idol with millions of followers’ thing?”

“Yeah,” Jinu said with a grin. “That thing.” He leaned in slightly, voice lowering just enough to feel like a secret. “Well, I could send a 'carrier pigeon'", he joked. 'Actually... you used to, but in tiger form,' she almost wanted to say. "Or a coded message hidden as a fan letter.”

She laughed. “A 'fan', huh?”

“Yes,” he nodded with a wink. Jinu hesitated for half a second, then pulled out his phone and held it out to her. “Alright. Give me a fake name, and I’ll give you a very real message when I want to see you again.”

She took the phone and typed quickly. When she handed it back, the contact name read: Pajama Pants Mystery Girl

He laughed. “Perfect. And I’ll be...” He paused, thinking. “The guy who doesn’t wear pajamas out at all.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So we’re starting weird, huh?”

“Obviously,” he said with a grin. “But, you know... secretly.”

“Secretly,” she echoed, eyes warm. “I can work with that.”

Chapter Text

Rumi lay in bed, wrapped in the silence of early morning. The first rays of sunlight slipped through her linen curtains, tracing soft gold over the floorboards, the outline of her desk, and the folded pajama pants from last night still draped over her chair.

Her fingers hovered over her phone, the screen still lit with the message.

Jinu: So… about that 'date'... can I see you tonight? ;)

She didn’t answer right away. She just stared at it, her heart caught somewhere between disbelief and ache.

Last night.

They had wandered through the quiet streets of old Seoul, feet brushing against the cobble stones, their breaths gentle in the night air. He had asked if she wanted to keep walking, and something in his voice had felt familiar—not his words, but the weight of them.

But they’d spoken like strangers. Acquaintances at best. She had laughed too softly. He had looked at her too kindly.

Not like someone who remembered once trying to destroy her.

Not like someone who once told her...

"Listen to yourself...

Is it working?

You are a demon... just like me.

All we get to do is live with our pain... 

Our misery... 

That's all we deserve."

Jinu didn’t seem to recall being part of Saja Boys, the idol group that had taken over the city and, secretly, siphoned souls from their fans—or standing onstage with yellow eyes glowing faintly under the spotlights, a demon cloaked in fandom.

He didn’t see her—the girl meant to stop him, who waited from the shadows until the line between mission and longing blurred beyond repair.

He didn’t remember the times he manipulated her.
The moment she still chose him over everything she had ever been told.
And when he sacrificed himself... to save her.

Now he texted her with the easy confidence of a boy figuring her out for the first time.

And yet, last night, there had been something… not quite memory, but a thread of it. A quiet moment when their eyes met under the flickering lanterns. Something passed between them, unspoken and heavy.

Now this text sat in her hand.

He didn’t remember. And yet he wanted to see her again.

Rumi placed the phone on her chest and closed her eyes.

He didn’t remember being her enemy.
Or how they were... falling for each other.
But he felt something.

Enough to ask her on a date.

And maybe, that was where it could begin again.

Rumi: Can't wait. :)

The sun had just begun to dip behind the tiled roofs, casting the world in amber light, when Rumi arrived. Her heart beat faster with every step on the narrow stone path.

Jinu had texted only one thing earlier that afternoon:

Meet me at the given coordinates.

No details. No hints. Just the same gentle confidence that had always unsettled her—back then, when he was a demon wrapped in the glitter of idol stardom, and now… this. A boy with no memories, but eyes that somehow still searched for her.

She found him waiting along the street of one of the more secluded hanok homes. "No pajama pants, I see," he said, smiling. Not dazzling or flirtatious like when he used to burn up crowds—just soft. Steady.

"I figured those were better left at home for tonight," Rumi teased, but the joke didn’t land with her usual sharpness. She was too focused on him. "So, where are we going?"

He held out a hand towards her. “Close your eyes.”

“Seriously?”

He sighed. “Don't ruin this for me, please.”

With a small laugh, she followed as instructed, taking his hand.

They walked for a little while before coming to a stop. She heard the soft rustle of fabric, then a hush. "Okay, open your eyes," he said.

And when she did... she was speechless.

He had set up a small private picnic surrounded by paper lanterns at the lookout point towards the city.

Rumi stepped closer, heart thudding. "This is amazing..." 

“Since we're both fans of the old ways,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, a little awkward. “I thought we’d do something quiet. Out of the spotlight. Where it’s just us.”

She looked towards the city lights, the honmoon flickered in peace.

"For what it's worth... I don't think you're a mistake." 

“Rumi?” Jinu asked softly.

She shook her head, giving him a smile before sitting down. “It's nothing. Shall we eat?”

He gave her a smirk back. "Let's."

From where they sat on the edge of the stone wall, the modern city stretched out below—glass towers like quiet giants, their lights blinking like distant stars. Seoul never really slept. But here, in this preserved pocket of time, it felt like the world had paused just for them.

Rumi leaned back on her hands, her shoes dangling above the slope beneath them. Beside her, Jinu sat cross-legged, quiet for once, looking not at the city but at her.

“Thanks for tonight, the food was delicious,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “You didn’t have to do all that, make everything yourself.”

He shrugged, smiling faintly. “I wanted to.”

She nodded slowly, fingers curled over the edge of the wall. “The lanterns are beautiful.”

“I almost burned one by accident,” he said with a sheepish laugh.

There was a silence, not awkward, just full—like the air between breaths.

Then he shifted, pulling something out of the pocket of his hoodie. “Actually… I have something else.”

He held out a thin bracelet, woven from blue and purple threads, knotted in a traditional Korean pattern.

Rumi’s breath caught. 'It looks just like the one the old lady gave us...'

“Took me the longest to make out of everything,” Jinu said quietly, his eyes searching hers.

Rumi looked down at the bracelet. The threads were slightly uneven—he wasn’t practiced at this—but it was beautiful. Real. Earnest. "Thank you," she said, taking the bracelet with careful fingers. “May you…?” she asked, lifting her wrist.

He nodded, reaching over to tie it gently. His fingers brushed her skin—warm, careful, lingering longer than they needed to.

When he was done, their hands stayed close.

Jinu watched her, not speaking.

He didn’t understand it. Couldn’t explain it. But looking at her now, something stirred beneath the surface of his mind.

He reached out without thinking, gently tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Your hair catches the moonlight, Rumi," he murmured, his voice above a breath. "It's beautiful."

And then he saw it, really saw it.

Her patterns.

Faint, barely visible in the night, but under the light of the moon, they glimmered across her skin—like delicate runes trailing along her, glowing in rhythm with her pulse. 

His fingers met her skin with the lightest of touches. He traced the beginning of the pattern near her chin, his thumb moving gently along the mark as if it meant something.

Rumi turned to him slowly, and their eyes locked. There was a softness there—hesitant, but no longer hidden.

Her heart raced. She didn’t know if he’d remember... if this would mean anything. But in that moment, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, just slightly, just enough.

And waited.

Jinu froze.

Only for a second.

Then he held his breath, almost surprised at himself, and closed the space between them.

His lips touched hers gently, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do it, but couldn’t stop himself. The kiss was soft, tentative. His hand hovered at her cheek, not quite touching, like the act alone was enough to ignite something.

Rumi didn’t move.

She just let herself feel it.

The quiet.
The closeness.
The warmth she had once thought lost... forever.

Rumi barely had time to linger in the tenderness of the kiss—the softness of his lips, the breath they’d shared, the quiet spark of something flickering back to life.

But then Jinu pulled back sharply.

His breath caught in his throat.

His eyes, wide and shining moments ago, suddenly glazed over with pain.

“Jinu?” Rumi’s voice broke, concerned.

He swayed slightly, his hand pressing against his chest like something was clawing from the inside out. His expression twisted—confusion first, then panic.

“Something’s… wrong,” he gasped, barely above a whisper.

He was falling backwards.

Rumi turned swiftly, sliding off the stone wall, and catching him as he collapsed on the ground, the full weight of him folding into her arms. His skin had gone cold, alarmingly fast. His breathing was shallow, his lips parted, his head falling against her shoulder.

“Jinu!” she cried, shaking him gently. “Hey—hey, look at me!”

But his eyes fluttered closed.

A faint, reddish glow pulsed briefly beneath his collarbone—then vanished.

Gone.

Rumi cradled him on the stone path, the lanterns blowing out, her mind racing. This wasn’t exhaustion. It wasn’t just a faint. She knew this feeling—this energy. The one that came with demons, bindings, and memories sealed away.

She pressed her hand against his chest—steady, warm, human. But somewhere deep beneath his skin, she could feel it.

The fire hadn’t gone out.
It had only been asleep.

And now... it was awakening.

“Jinu…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What’s happening to you?”

Chapter Text

"Don't forget about our deal, Jinu."

Jinu’s eyes flashed open, wild and unfocused. He bolted upright, hands grabbing at the blanket like he was still trapped in some invisible nightmare.

“Hey — hey, it’s okay!” Rumi said quickly, kneeling beside the couch. “You’re safe here.”

“Rumi,” he gasped, voice hoarse. His eyes darted around the room, confused. “Where... where are we?”

“My apartment,” Rumi said quickly, hands raised. “I didn't know where else to go.”

But before either of them could speak another word, a deep, steady growl filled the room.

Jinu turned sharply. A blue tiger stepped out towards them, eyes glowing faintly. On the coffee table, a magpie sat motionless, its six golden eyes piercing straight through him.

Jinu’s face drained of color.

“What… what the HECK are those?!” he breathed, stumbling backward off the couch.

Rumi stood, startled. “They showed up after you passed out, and they helped me bring you here. They haven’t left your side.”

The tiger took a slow, cautious step forward — not aggressively. The bird let out a single note, low and mournful.

Jinu clutched his head, a throbbing pressure building behind his eyes. “I don’t know them. I’ve never— !”

“Calm down!” Rumi stepped in front of him, gently placing her hands on his shoulders. “They’re not trying to hurt you. Please—breathe.”

But he was shaking now. Not just from confusion — from something deeper. A hollow, aching fear.

Jinu fell to his knees, gasping, as flashes surged through his mind.

Chains.

Fire.

Then darkness.

"Don't forget about our deal, Jinu."

'That horrible vision again...' “I... I don’t understand any of this,” Jinu whispered.

“It's okay, I'm here for you.” Rumi knelt beside him, voice soft. “Let's figure this out together.”

Jinu sat on the edge of the couch, his hands trembling slightly as he stared at the floor. The tiger curled up a few feet away, still and patient. The bird had tucked its head under its wing, though its six golden eyes remained open, watching.

He took in a quick breath, shaking his head before he could speak again. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to freak out.”

"It's understandable." She sat beside him, leaving a little space. “You don’t have to apologize.”

'She's surprisingly relaxed about all of this...' Jinu thought, impressed and unsettled at the same time.

There was a long pause, the kind between two people on the edge of something strange and uncertain.

Jinu let out a sigh. “Can you... distract me?”

Rumi blinked. “Distract you?”

He nodded, eyes still lowered. “Anything. Please— get me out of my head for a minute.”

Rumi tilted her head thoughtfully. Then she smiled.

“Okay,” she said brightly, scooting forward. “Do you want to hear my serious, definitely well-researched theory that pigeons are secretly government spies who charge themselves on power lines?”

Jinu glanced up, bewildered. “Wait, what?”

She nodded, completely deadpan. “Think about it. Have you ever seen a baby pigeon? No. Why? Because the government grows them in underground labs.”

He stared at her.

“And you ever notice how pigeons never blink when you’re watching them? It’s because they’re transmitting data to their secret headquarters through their creepy beady eyes.”

“…You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I’m extremely serious,” Rumi said, trying to keep a straight face. “That bird on the coffee table? It's not with them. It’s against them. It’s watching out for you. Bird rebellion. The revolution is coming, Jinu.”

There was a beat of silence — and then, unexpectedly, Jinu let out a soft laugh.

It wasn’t much, but it was real. Warm. A little cracked at the edges.

“You’re one-of-a-kind, you know that?” he said.

Rumi grinned. “Why, thank you.”

She watched him quietly, the flicker of his beautiful smile still lingering in the air like the last glow of a candle. The hush between them had softened now — no longer heavy, but tentative. Gentle.

“So,” she said, brushing her hair behind her ear, “do you wanna… maybe freshen up? Or eat something? I could make ramyeon. Or, uh, warm up some mystery leftovers that I have to check, hopefully not expired.”

Jinu shook his head slowly. “No. I mean… maybe later.”

Rumi just nodded. “Sure, there's no rush.”

He hesitated — eyes drifting to hers. His voice was quiet, almost unsure. “Can I… hold you?”

Rumi blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

“You're the only thing I don't want disappearing if this is a dream,” he said, looking down at his hands, “I just… want you close.”

A flush crept up Rumi’s neck like wildfire. “O-oh.”

The room felt smaller all of a sudden. Her heart stumbled a bit, completely out of sync. “Uh… s-sure. Yeah. If that helps.”

Jinu gave a faint, almost apologetic smile. “Only if you’re okay with it.”

She gave a quick, jerky nod, unable to meet his eyes. “I mean, yeah. I’ve… let handsome men with emotional damage and supernatural guardian animals hold me before. This is very normal.”

He chuckled, giving a little wink. "Handsome, huh?" She rolled her eyes in response.

They shifted slowly, awkwardly at first, until Jinu gently wrapped his arms around her — hesitant, respectful — and Rumi let herself lean into him, heartbeat way too loud in her ears.

He exhaled, the tension melting from his shoulders.

“Thanks,” he whispered into her hair.

And though her face was burning red, Rumi smiled into his shoulder. “Happy to help.”

Jinu held her like she was something fragile — not because he thought she’d break, but because he was afraid he would if he let go.

Rumi was warm against him, soft and still, her breath steadying against his chest. The tiger rested quietly at the foot of the couch. The bird had closed its eyes. For the first time since he woke up in her home, Jinu felt a strange yet reassuring peace.

He shifted slightly, leaning back just enough to see her face. “Rumi,” he said softly.

She looked up through her lashes. “What is it?”

There was a pause, a silent question between them.

Jinu leaned forward, just enough to ask without asking — his hand gently brushing her cheek, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

But Rumi’s eyes widened, and she tensed, just slightly.

Jinu stopped. “I—sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s not that,” she said quickly, pulling back just a little, flustered. “I just... Last night, or a few hours ago, was a lot, you know?”

He nodded, guilt flickering across his face. “Yeah. Of course.”

“I mean, one minute you’re hyperventilating after we— you know, the next you’re passed out in my arms,” she added, half-laughing, half-nervous. “It’s not exactly first-date energy.”

Jinu let out a soft breath. “No. It’s not.”

Rumi reached for his hand, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. “I… I need a moment longer. To catch up to all of this, too.”

“Then I’ll wait.” He met her eyes, teasing. “But don't make me wait too long.”

Her lips curved into a small smile, the blush still coloring her cheeks. “We'll see."

It was quiet again, but different this time — not heavy with confusion or panic, but pleasant, still.

Rumi sat beside Jinu, her fingers lightly laced with his. The room was dim, the tiger snoozing peacefully, and the bird softly preening itself.

Just… existing. Together.

She turned to him slowly, searching his eyes. “Jinu?”

He looked at her. “Yeah?”

Then Jinu’s breath caught. He didn’t need to ask further — he knew.

This time, he didn’t rush it. He just moved in the same way she did, their foreheads brushing first, both of them smiling, a little shy, a little nervous.

Her hands went to his chest, his hands gently resting on her waist.

“Jinu,” she said again, but in a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t faint again.”

He laughed, and then so did she — just a soft, breathy chuckle between two hearts beating as one.

And so they leaned in— no drama, no hesitation, just a slow closing of distance. Her eyes fluttered shut, and his arms wrapped around her.

But it lasted exactly two seconds.

Because just as their lips were about to meet—

BANG.

THUD.

CLACK.

Jinu turned swiftly towards the noise. “What was—?”

“Oh... NO!” Rumi stood in a panic. "My roommates are home early!"

Chapter Text

The front door opened.

“RUMI?” Mira’s voice, too close, too here. “We’re home!”

“Never trust beachside rental reviews!” Zoey added.

Mira groaned. "You mean to double-check before I confide in you to make sure it's reliable."

Rumi continued panicking. “No. No, no, no.”

Jinu looked back at her. “That’s not good, is it?”

“You. My room. Now.”

He glanced at the tiger and the bird, who were both on high alert now. “Uh…”

“All of you. Go. Hide.”

It was a chaotic ballet.

In one fluid motion, the tiger swept Jinu onto its back, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to keep his startled yelp from slipping out. The bird zipped behind them, vanishing through the crack in her bedroom door just as Zoey appeared from the entryway, dragging her suitcase.

“Hey!” Rumi said too brightly. “You’re back sooner than expected!”

"We were kinda done with the ocean breeze and palm trees." Mira dropped her luggage onto the floor, raising an eyebrow. “You okay? You’re sweating.”

“I was doing... hot yoga,” she lied, wiping her forehead. “While wearing more layers. Extra hot. It’s a new thing.”

By the time Rumi got her breathing under control, Mira and Zoey had spread out across the living room like they’d never left.

Mira was wrapped in a throw blanket, one leg tucked under her, eyes closed as she held a cup of ramyeon that Rumi hastily made. Zoey was halfway through unpacking snacks from the airport.

Rumi perched on the arm of the couch, still jumpy, still tense — though she hoped they couldn’t tell.

It was safe now. Jinu and the others were tucked away in her room, hopefully quiet. No tiger-sized growls. No mysterious bird chirps.

Just... the three of them.

“I wish you’d come with us,” Zoey said softly, chewing on dried mango slices. “It wasn’t the same without you.”

“Yeah,” Mira added, opening her eyes. “Even with the jellyfish apocalypse, we kept saying how much you would’ve liked the early morning beach fog and the antique shops.”

“I know,” Rumi murmured, folding her hands tightly in her lap.

Silence settled over them. Not uncomfortable — just... aware.

“We understood, though,” Mira said after a beat. “You weren’t ready.”

Rumi blinked. “For what?”

“To go somewhere new. To feel better,” Zoey said. “You’ve been quieter... since it happened.”

Rumi swallowed. “Since what?”

There it was — the words they’d been tiptoeing around for months.

Mira reached out and squeezed her hand. “Since Jinu.”

Rumi froze.

“We know you cared about him,” Mira went on gently. “A lot.”

Zoey nodded, quieter now. “When he... or whatever happened… we knew it hurt you.”

Rumi couldn’t speak. Her throat was tight with too many truths and one giant, living lie behind her bedroom door.

Because Jinu wasn’t gone.
He was in her room, lying low, surrounded by his supernatural companions.
But to them — her teammates, her best friends — he was just... a ghost of a memory.

“It’s okay if you’re still grieving,” Mira said, eyes kind. “You don’t have to rush anything.”

Zoey added, “We're here for you.”

Rumi looked at them both, these girls she’d lived with for years. They’d seen her go through everything and now — unknowingly — through a secret that didn’t belong in their world.

“I just want to...” Rumi whispered, and the words ached as they came out. “See him again.”

Zoey leaned her head on Rumi’s shoulder.

“I think he would’ve wanted you to carry on,” Mira said softly. "Find peace."

Rumi smiled, her eyes blurring from the tears. “Yeah... I think so too.”

Rumi eased the door shut behind her with a soft click. The warmth from her talk with Mira and Zoey still lingered in her chest, but so did the guilt—the kind that comes after saying too much and not enough all at once.

She barely took a step into the room before she saw him.

Jinu sat at the edge of her bed, legs slightly apart, elbows resting on his knees, his expression calm but distant. The soft glow of the lamplight cast golden streaks in his hair; he looked angelic. Nestled at his feet was his tiger, its stripes seeming to flicker, eyes glowing faintly. Near the window perched his bird; it ruffled its feathers, watching everything with an eerie stillness.

The room was quiet, except for a faint humming of hearts.

"Hey," Jinu said, voice low, like he didn’t want to break the stillness.

"Hi," Rumi replied, her shoulders dropping as she walked toward him, exhaustion seeping into her every step.

He studied her face for a moment before looking away, reaching down to scratch behind the tiger’s ear. It purred—low, thunderous—and pressed its head into his hand.

“They missed me,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Rumi smiled faintly. “So did I.”

That made him glance at her again, but he didn’t say anything. His fingers stilled. The tiger blinked slowly, then faded into the shadows at the end of the bed. The bird fluttered silently to the top of the tiger's head, perched itself there, and tucked itself beneath one wing.

“You should get some sleep, too,” Jinu said, rising from the bed. “I’ll let you rest.”

But before he could move, her fingers reached out—grazed his sleeve.

“Stay by me.”

He paused. His breath caught for half a second. “Rumi…”

“I don’t want to sleep alone,” she said softly. "Please?"

There was a beat of silence before he nodded, sinking beside her.

The room dimmed, quiet settling around them.

The silence stretched as Rumi’s breathing evened out, soft and steady. She had her head against his shoulder, her body warm from too many emotions. Her hand, which had loosely grasped the edge of his sleeve, had gone slack; her fingers curled gently into the fabric. The room felt still in a way that made it hard to breathe—not suffocating, but heavy.

He looked down at her—at the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, the way her lips still parted slightly, as if she had one last thing to say but sleep had taken it from her.

“Did you always do that?” he whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Ask me to stay like I'd ever leave you in the first place?”

The tiger rumbled once. The bird stirred slightly, but Jinu didn’t move. He stayed perfectly still beside her, as if afraid that even the slightest shift might wake her or worse—make her disappear.

His gaze lingered on the slope of her cheek, the gentle furrow still resting between her brows, even in sleep.

He swallowed hard.

“I heard what you and your friends said...” he murmured, voice so low it barely left his lips. “About me.”

She didn’t stir.

Maybe it was selfish.

But it didn’t matter.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead—quick, sweet, barely there—and then, unable to help himself, another to her lips—a whisper of contact.

When he pulled back, her hand twitched softly against his arm.

“So... these visions that I've been having of you for the past three months,” he murmured again.

"That's the funny thing about hope... Nobody else gets to decide if you feel it."

“They aren't illusions or precognitions.”

"That choice is up to you."

His gaze drifted to the floor, jaw tightening. Then he looked back at her—at this girl who had meant more to him than he can remember.

“I wonder...” His fingers were trailing along a pattern on her cheek. “What were we before?”

His phone, long forgotten on the nightstand beside him, buzzed softly.

He didn’t move at first.

Then, reluctantly, he reached for it.

[Text Message – 4:37 AM]
Are you okay?
Where are you?

His thumb hovered over the screen. The sender’s name sat at the top—Ace

He exhaled through his nose.

He stared at the message longer than necessary.

They always sent messages like this when they felt the shift in the air. As if they could sense when his presence disappeared—like something sacred had been tugged from the place it belonged.

But tonight, he wasn’t ready to go back. Not to the sanctuary. Not to the rules.

He glanced at Rumi, asleep and unguarded. Her breathing was still steady and dreamless, maybe.

He softened.

Then he typed:

I’ll be back soon.

Chapter Text

“Tonight,” he had whispered to her while she was still half asleep, “I want to see you.”

Rumi stared at her phone screen, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed. The sting of Jinu leaving without a proper goodbye still lingered in her chest. She wasn’t upset — not really — but the sudden emptiness where he’d been was hard to ignore.

Rumi: I can’t believe you just left like that...

A few moments later, her phone buzzed.

His response was calm and sincere, sending a flutter through her.

Jinu: I’m sorry, sweetheart... I had to go. But trust me... I didn't want to leave.

She sighed, her heart aching with the confusion of missing him yet understanding he had his reasons.

A soft light entered through a crack in her curtains, casting a gentle golden streak across the floor.

Rumi: I see you escaped through my balcony.

He wrote back quickly.

Jinu: I'll make it up to you.

Her fingers hovered, then slowly typed.

Rumi: How so?

His next message was almost instant.

Jinu: Oh, you'll see.

Rumi pressed a hand to her chest as she climbed the stone path. Her heart had not stopped racing since she received his text.

Where we had our first date.

She reached the wall. And there he was, beautifully nonchalant.

At his side stood the tiger — large, elegant, its fur rippling with a blue sheen — and overhead, the bird circled once, black and white feathers mimicking the light and shadows.

“Busy day?” he asked, turning to face her.

“Y'know, typical idol stuff,” she answered, still trying to calm herself.

He smiled, then tilted his head toward the tiger, which gave a low, approving rumble. “Well, let me take care of you now.”

Jinu helped Rumi climb onto the tiger’s back — her hands were shaking, not with fear, but with awe. This wasn't new to her... but riding with him was. She settled behind him, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Then the tiger took a step forward — and then another — and then…

They were rising.

Not leaping, not running — rising. Slowly, gracefully, like wind lifting a leaf. Beneath them, Seoul unfolded like a painting, the city lights blooming below in soft yellowish-white hues.

The rooftops shrank beneath them, while the river shimmered like a silver ribbon winding through the distant city. Temples, hanoks, and hidden gardens appeared to come alive, exhaling a quiet breath. The bird soared alongside them, circling the tiger as they drifted high above it all.

He looked back, his eyes warm. “Amazing, isn't it?”

Rumi didn't know why, but hidden tears pricked her eyes. She leaned into him, her cheek pressed to his back, heart thudding. “Like a dream.” 

The tiger moved effortlessly through the sky, paws stepping on air as if it were stone. Below, the cityscape continued to glimmer. 

Then they began their descent.

They landed in a quiet courtyard surrounded by ginkgos, their leaves trailing along the path.

Jinu stepped down, then helped Rumi to the ground. The tiger bowed its head and stepped back; the bird perched quietly above it.

And for a moment, it was just the two of them.

“New aura unlocked?” she teased.

Jinu laughed, a little out of breath but proud. “We spent the whole day together. Figured if they're part of me, I should stop treating them like wild guests.”

The tiger stretched, yawned, and settled beside Rumi like it belonged there. She raised an eyebrow while petting it. “I’m impressed.”

Jinu tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“I mean, it’s not easy to face what you’re afraid of. Let alone spend hours bonding with it.”

He shrugged, giving her a look that made her knees go weak. “You made it easier.”

Then he grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him.

This kiss was not shy or hesitant; there was no underlying uncertainty of a new beginning.

But the one that seemed to embrace it.

Leaves fell from the trees, the air hummed with the quiet magic of the moment like a trace of a dream brushing against their skin.

Rumi’s fingers curled into the fabric of Jinu’s jacket, her heart pounding in a way she’d never known before. Every shared breath between them sparked something... a connection only they knew.

Rumi sat with her knees tucked close to her chest, her cheek resting lightly against Jinu’s shoulder.

From where they sat, the view from the rooftop was a mix of two Seouls—the old spreading below like a patchwork of tradition, and beyond them, the sleek skyline of the modern city rising proudly beneath the Milky Way.

Jinu shifted slightly, just enough to lean into her.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice quiet enough to blend with the sound of the breeze, “I think my friends would really like you.”

Rumi lifted her head just a little, brows knitting, eyes wide. “Your friends?” 'Wait, he can't mean...!'

He nodded. “I was just thinking how nice it'd be to… introduce each other to the people we care about.”

Then he added, almost offhandedly, “Ace would like you too.”

Rumi blinked. “Ace?”

“Yeah,” Jinu said, running a hand through his hair. “Short for Aceline. They’re... someone important to me.”

"That's a nice name." Rumi tilted her head, curious now. “And you think they’d like me?”

“I know they would,” he said, not missing a beat.

Rumi should’ve been happy.

He’d said all those things so easily.

He’d said it like it was nothing, like it was the most natural next step in the world.

Rumi’s stomach tightened.

Not because of him.

It was about them.

Mira and Zoey.

Her best friends, the girls who knew what her silence meant, who could tell she was hiding something by the way her left eyebrow twitched and questioned it every time she denied it. The ones who stuck around, even if they pulled away at first.

But she had done it. Again.

This was the second time she’d kept something this big from them. The first time, there had been reasons — messy, complicated, and kind of justified. But still. Secrets.

And now this.

She realized, with a dull weight in her chest, that she wasn’t afraid of them meeting Jinu.
She was scared of the look in Mira’s eyes.
She was worried about Zoey being quiet in that way, which meant she was hurt, but didn’t want to make it worse.

“You were hiding this from us... this whole time?”

She turned her head slowly toward Jinu, who was looking at the stars, giving her space to think.

Rumi let out a slow breath. “They’re gonna be mad.”

He glanced at her. “Your friends?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Not because of you. I think they’ll like you. 'I hope...'

Jinu straightened up slightly. “I... don’t follow.”

She looked down at her hands. “They’re gonna be upset that I didn’t tell them about you sooner. That I kept it from them." 'Again'

There was a beat of silence before Jinu said, gently, “I'm sure you have your reasons.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, “That doesn’t mean I’m right.”

He didn’t try to fix it. Didn’t rush in with some platitude about forgiveness or how “they’ll understand eventually.” He just rested his head atop hers.

“When it comes to us,” he said with a light chuckle. “I'm getting the feeling that there's never going to be a 'right' time to introduce each other.”

Then, softly, he added, “As a couple.”

Silence.

“A—?” she started, her voice thinner than she intended.

Jinu glanced at her, a little smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Too soon?”

“No,” she said, maybe a bit too quickly. Then, softer: “Just… wasn’t expecting it.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” he said, his eyes on the city. “But sitting here with you like this… it feels right. And if you feel the same, I’d like us to stop pretending we’re ‘just talking.’”

She couldn't help but smile. “What will you say to your friends?”

Rumi leaned her head back on his shoulder again, but this time her hand found his—their fingers threading gently together. Jinu brought their clasped hands to his lips, kissing the back of hers.

She felt him grin into her skin. “This is Rumi, my girlfriend. She had me at... pajama pants."

Rumi burst out laughing, and he soon followed after.

Then Jinu cupped her chin, lifting it towards him. "And maybe... everything else.”

There was a softness in his gaze, quiet and full. His eyes traced her features as if trying to memorize them, even though they were already etched into his mind.

He lowered his head, his lips met hers—warm and unhurried.

When they briefly pulled apart, Rumi’s cheeks were flushed, her breath slightly uneven. “…More,” she whispered, her eyes already closing.

He let out a soft chuckle and then just gazed at her, eyes flickering with a kind of wonder. And then, with a grin that tugged at his lips... he kissed her again.

Jinu brought Rumi back to her apartment in a quiet hush of midnight, the world around them softened by the dim amber glow of the moon. The air was still, charged with the kind of tension that clings to the edge of words left unspoken. He turned towards her, a gentle smile playing at his lips, his voice low as he began, “Good night, Rumi. I'll see you —”

But she didn’t let him finish.

Rumi stepped forward and kissed him, fierce and sudden, like she'd been holding it in for too long. The warmth of her mouth met his with a hunger that knocked the breath from his chest. It was not a question—it was a declaration. His hands found her waist, strong and sure, and before his mind could catch up, he lifted her effortlessly, her legs instinctively wrapping around him, anchoring them together.

The world narrowed to the press of her body against his, the heat between them blooming like fire through his veins. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and he held her like she was something he’d always known, something he’d never let go of again.

Behind the now-drawn curtains and closed balcony doors, beneath a sky sewn with stars, his guardians kept their quiet vigil. The tiger lay sprawled across the cool floor, head resting on its paws, golden eyes half-lidded yet watchful. The bird, dark and sleek, perched on the railing, its feathers ruffling faintly in the moonlight. They did not intrude, but they stayed—silent sentinels of the night.

.

.

.

💪🍼🩷❓Group Chat📱:Operation: Don’t Let Ace Find Out 🤐

💪:
Okay, listen up.
Jinu’s with 'Pajama Pants Mystery Girl'.
We have exactly TWO hours before Ace starts asking questions.
We need a cover story.

🍼: Why don’t we tell Ace the truth? 🤷🏻‍♂️

💪: ...Because I like having functioning limbs.

🩷: Shouldn’t we support him? 🥹 Set the mood? Light candles? 🕯️

🍼: We’re not setting the mood... we're setting up a LIE. Stay focused, Casanova.

❓:
I’ll hack into the cameras.
Loop yesterday’s footage.
He never left. He was “reading.”

💪: Genius. Creepy. But genius.

🍼:
I told Ace Jinu was meditating on the roof for “emotional balance.”
Now, they want a video... 
I’m this 🤏 close to putting a wig on you (💪) and filming it. 😤

💪:
DO IT.
But use my left side. It's my good side.

🩷:
I texted Ace that Jinu was writing poetry in the woods to process his “inner storms.” 🌧️
What? We’re not in trouble… yet. 😜

❓:
Ace just pinged me.
“Where’s Jinu?”
I replied with:
“…🪵🧘📚🌲”

💪: ...What does that even mean??

❓: Exactly.

🍼: We're ONE suspicious emoji away from getting our privileges taken from us... 😩

🩷:
Worth it.
He carried her, like LIFTING her to the sky (quite literally). Like a novel. Like a whole-ass paperback. 😭

💪: Dude, I do that at the gym... Calm down.

❓: Ace just sent “I’m on my way.”

💪🍼🩷: WHAT??!!?!?

🍼:
JUMP INTO PHASE 2
RELEASE THE EMOTIONAL DISTRACTIONS
SOMEONE START CRYING

🩷:
Already sobbing
For love 🥰
...And fear 😱

💪:
Meet on the roof in 5.
If we're going down... we go out together. 💥

Chapter Text

Jinu blinked awake slowly, his body warm beneath the blanket. For a moment, he didn’t move — didn’t want to disturb the stillness — but then he turned his head.

There she was.

Rumi, fast asleep, had her face half-buried in the pillow.

His fingers moved before his thoughts did, tracing invisible paths down the line of her spine. Her skin was smooth and impossibly soft, her chest rising and falling slightly with each breath she took. He followed one pattern to the next, as if he were mapping out constellations.

When he reached the small of her back, his hand paused, then continued gently down to the hollow of her hip.

Jinu stared at her like he was trying to memorize her — not just her features, but the way the dim light caught the curve of her collarbone, the way her fingers curled slightly as she slept, like she was holding onto something delicate.

He didn’t know how long he watched her. Maybe minutes. Hours. Time was different around Rumi, as if it had bent itself to make more space for her.

She shifted slightly under his touch, not waking, just responding — a satisfied sigh.

“Hi,” she whispered, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“Hey,” Jinu whispered back. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, the barest brush of lips.

Rumi gave him a small smile and stretched, one arm reaching over to rest across his chest. “What time is it?”

“We're probably better off not knowing,” he said honestly.

She chuckled softly, her eyes still closed.

After a moment, his words came out not so casually. “I can't fathom how beautiful you are right now.”

Rumi didn’t reply — not yet. But another soft smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

She’d heard him.

Cracking one eye open, she muttered, “Right now? So I’m not beautiful the rest of the time?”

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Don’t do that. You know what I mean.”

She grinned and moved her face against his shoulder.

Jinu let out a quiet laugh, but the truth of it hung heavy in his chest. He really couldn't describe it. Because this — this peaceful moment, wrapped up in her presence — it was the beauty that made everything else seem dull by comparison.

He kissed the top of her head, whispering, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Rumi murmured sleepily, “Maybe you were just really, really lucky.”

He smiled, but it wavered, just a little. Because deep down, he wasn’t sure it was luck. It felt like grace. Like something had shifted in the universe, and for once, it turned in his favor.

And now, he thought, he was going to do everything in his power not to mess it up.

He held her a little tighter and with one arm tucked beneath the pillow, her hair cascaded over her bare shoulders like purple ink spilled across silk.

His eyes drifted upward, drawn again to her locks — long and tousled in every direction. And it was perfect. Messy, wild, and completely her.

Jinu reached out, gently combing his fingers through it, watching the way the strands shimmered. “You should let your hair down sometimes, Rumi,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Rumi stirred, her voice still half-asleep. “Yeah?”

He smiled, leaning closer. “Undone. You look amazing either way. But this? It's like…”

She turned slowly to face him, eyes still heavy-lidded but shining with something soft and amused. “You’re laying it on pretty thick for someone who already got what he wanted.”

He chuckled, running a hand over her hair again, tucking a strand behind her ear. “That’s the thing,” he said. “I knew what I wanted, but I didn't realize how much. And now I want… this. More of this. You.”

Rumi stared at him, unblinking for a moment. Then she nudged him with her foot under the covers. “You’re being dangerously sweet right now.”

“I mean it.”

“I know,” she said, a little bashfully, turning her face into the pillow to hide a smile. “That’s what makes it worse.”

He grinned, then shifted onto his side so he could pull her into him, resting his forehead against hers.

“I keep looking at you like I’m going to wake up and you’ll be gone,” he whispered, his voice faltering a bit. “Like this is some kind of blessing I wasn’t supposed to be a part of.”

She brushed her hand over his jaw, her thumb tracing the edge of his cheek. “Well, you're wrong, Jinu.”

“I better be,” he said, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Or I’m just lucky as hell.”

They lay there like that for a while — no need to move, or urge to fill the silence. Just warmth, skin, and breath shared between two people who knew exactly where they wanted to be.

Chapter Text

The wind whipped around them as the tiger's powerful strides soared above the canopies, each leap feeling more like flight than motion. Beside them, the bird glided gracefully through the air, its cries traveling through the trees.

“Yeah,” Rumi said into the space between them. “It’s just… a little nerve-wracking, that's all.”

He chuckled, his voice warm against the cool air. “For me, too. Good thing we're doing this together.”

The tiger let out a soft growl beneath them, as if in agreement.

Soon, the terrain began to level out. The sanctuary was near—a ridge nestled in pine and mist, the sansa beyond it. The tiger slowed, then landed with a fluid motion at the edge of a cliff.

Jinu swung off first, landing lightly, and turned to offer a hand to Rumi.

She hesitated for a half-second—then took it.

Her heart hadn’t quite settled, but Jinu didn’t let go of her.

His eyes scanned her face… then dropped to the outfit she had so carefully chosen. She had on a white dress shirt neatly tucked into a black knee-length skirt, paired with wedge heels to complete the look. A dark coat with fine silver stitching hung off her shoulders, accented by her subtle golden jewelry, and her purple hair pulled back with care—she looked stunning, and very deliberately not like the girl who wears hoodies and jeans on their dates.

“You dressed up,” he said after a moment, his voice softer now.

Rumi blinked, then gave a half-shrug. “I did.”

He raised a brow, teasing creeping into his expression. “You’ve never done that for me before.”

Rumi narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me, we hang out on rooftops and dark parks. Not exactly formalwear-friendly.”

Jinu smirked. “Still.”

Rumi smoothed down her skirt, nerves fluttering beneath her calm smile as she met Jinu's curious gaze. "I want Ace to see me the way I hope you do," she said softly, a touch of pink coloring her cheeks. "As someone who... matters. First impressions stick, and I wanted mine to say I care—not just about them, but about everything important to you."

Jinu blinked, his smile fading from his lips—not in a bad way, but in the way that he’d been caught off guard. Touched.

He stepped closer, letting go of her hand to brush a piece of wind-blown hair from her cheek. “Rumi…”

He then smiled again—slow and warm, the kind that always made her heart trip over itself. “You didn’t have to,” he said fondly. “But I appreciate that you did.”

Before she could say anything else—or get any more flustered—he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“For the record,” he said, pulling back slightly, “you’re the best impression I’ve ever had.”

She looked up at him, a chaste kiss meeting her lips. “And it wouldn't have mattered,” he murmured. “You would've had me anyway.”

That stopped her breath for a moment.

But then the mist moved again, clearing the path ahead.

A set of stone steps appeared, worn smooth from time and weather, winding gently uphill into the heart of the woods. Beyond them, the air shimmered faintly—like a quiet invitation, suspended and expectant.

Jinu offered his hand again.

And Rumi took it.

The forest was thick, yet not fully dark, as the setting sun filtered through the leaves, casting the ground in streaks of lingering gold.

Rumi kept close to Jinu’s side, their hands still linked. Though she was calmer now, the weight of where they were going—who they were going to meet—still pressed lightly against her chest.

To distract herself, she glanced sideways at him, his features peaceful but alert, always listening.

“So…” she said, trying to sound casual. “What exactly have you been doing all this time?”

Jinu gave a low chuckle. “Other than figuring myself out?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I mean, like… day to day. What do you do up here?”

He lifted their hands, swinging them gently between them. “A lot more than you’d think. Turns out I’m surprisingly domestic.”

“Oh?”

“I enjoy cooking, mostly traditional stuff—woodfire oven, stone pots. No timers. You learn to feel when something’s ready, not check.”

Rumi raised a brow, intrigued. “Like instinct cooking?”

“Exactly. If you don’t know the heat by scent, you haven’t earned the meal.”

She laughed. “Old-fashioned, I see.”

He smiled at the sound of that. “It’s not so bad. I sew, too. Hand-stitching, mending, and a little embroidery when I’m feeling artistic. And I do calligraphy.”

Rumi blinked. “Like… ink and brush?”

“Mhm. Along with an inkstone and rice paper.” He shrugged like it was nothing. “I like things that make me slow down.”

Rumi shook her head, amazed. “Okay, so quiet, patient, ancient hobbies. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“You say that like I was born hundreds of years ago.”

She laughed again, but more to herself. 'Because you were,' she thought.

“Still wrapping my head around smartphones,” he admitted, eyes twinkling.

Rumi giggled, holding tighter to his hand. “Jinu.”

“And don’t get me started on electric stoves,” he added. “It doesn’t make any noise. How am I supposed to know if the heat is right if there’s no flame?”

“You don’t,” Rumi said through a grin. “That’s the modern gamble.”

He looked up at the trees, letting out a deep breath, amused and thoughtful. “Honestly, the tech stuff is hard. But it makes me realize how much I appreciate just listening to the elements.”

She studied him for a long moment. The boy who used to sing and move like an idol now sounded like he could teach a class on meditative silence.

“Well, you're still Jinu to me,” she said softly.

He turned to her, that beautiful smile lighting up his face. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said.

Rumi thought back on what he’d said—cooking with instinct, learning to feel when things were ready. It reminded her of how she felt about him. She hadn’t needed to explain it to herself. She just… knew.

When she looked at him, calm and rooted in who he was becoming, she felt a little braver.

Even if he was born four centuries ago.
Even if she still had no idea how to impress the person who helped him become human again.

She would try.
And trust... that she'd know when it was enough.

Ahead, the trees began to thin, and the faint scent of incense drifted through the air.

Jinu squeezed her hand. “We’re almost there.”

Rumi swallowed her nerves.

The scent deepened as the path gave way to the tranquil clearing of the Sansa—its tiled roof resting between earth and sky, with lanterns flickering softly along the cobblestones leading to the entrance. The wind here was slower. The forest... silent.

But Jinu stopped walking.

Rumi felt the pause in his hand before she heard the change in his breathing. His grip on her fingers tightened just slightly.

“What is it?” she whispered, anxiety threading through her words.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes were scanning the treeline, sharp and still. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing.

Rumi could feel it now, too.

Like something was watching them.

“Stay close,” Jinu said, voice low, calm but alert. He shifted, just slightly, into a stance that made her heart stutter.

'He’s prepared to fight.'

Before she could speak, a shadow streaked from the trees to their left, followed by another to the right.

Two figures touched down on their feet with catlike precision.

Rumi’s heart dropped.

Zoey stood first with her throwing daggers drawn and at the ready, halfway between concern and confrontation.
Mira followed, all precision and grace, her glaive held before her.

“Wait!” Rumi said quickly, stepping in front of them. “Let me explain—”

Mira raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been sneaking out of the penthouse."

“Our spirit magic led us here—and clearly, our instincts were right too,” Zoey said, eyes narrowing at the figure behind Rumi. “Get away from her.”

Rumi threw her hands up. “This is not what it looks like.”

Mira’s gaze narrowed. Her jaw clenched. “Why does that person look like—” Then it clicked. Her voice dropped into disbelief. “No way.”

Zoey took a step back, eyes widening. “That’s not possible.” She stared harder, her daggers lifting just slightly. “…You’re supposed to be dead,” she said. “You died. We saw it. Rumi mourned you. You—”

Jinu said nothing. Not because he couldn’t—because he’d been here before. On the edge of misunderstanding, mistrust, and fear. He understood that speaking too soon could ruin something before it even had a chance to form.

“How are you back?” Mira demanded. “What are you?”

Rumi’s heart twisted.

Mira and Zoey raised their weapons once more.

Jinu didn't move—but the tension prickling across his skin and the heaviness pressing into the air around him were hard to ignore. He didn’t want to fight. But he wouldn’t run.

And neither would they.

The forest behind Jinu stirred—and four figures emerged from the shadows like ghosts returning to the living.

One stood tall and broad-shouldered, crossing his arms in a silent gesture of warning.
The smallest one, who was no less intimidating, crouched down, his fists clenched and ready.
Another stepped into view, flipping his hair with flair—yet just as prepared to fight.
And the last to appear, had his face shadowed beneath long bangs, but every muscle was poised to move.

Mira’s voice rang out, ice-cold, “How?” Her eyes moved across Jinu’s companions—realization dawning like a crack of thunder. “You all vanished...”

Zoey turned to the group as well, letting it register. “You were the ones with him… from back then.”

The pressure between the two sides was palpable. Two mirrored lines—Rumi and Jinu in the center.

Then—

The wind shifted.

And everyone froze.

A figure appeared from the Sansa steps, their voice ringing out, strong and unmistakable: "That's enough."

Rumi stared—utterly still. She exhaled for the first time in minutes, her voice small but full of stunned recognition. “…Celine?”