Chapter Text
The shrill, agonized screaming of his family wouldn't stop.
It never stopped.
His sister. His mother.
Sometimes the screams would be louder. Sometimes, more muffled. Thin voices and choked sobs. Then, violent and horrid.
A never-ending series of suffering played out all around him, each time he closed his eyes, each time he opened them. It didn't matter whether he ran to them with his arms spread out and tears falling, or sat on the ground with palms pressed against his ears. They were always just as close, just as far.
Too close to ignore.
Too far to reach.
Like a wicked carousel, the scenes looped, no matter where and how long he looked or tried not to. Every horrible scenario he'd ever imagined, and an infinity more, all with one thing in common: him and his self-serving choice be the igniter. The reason behind the torture of those he held dearest. The reality of their pain.
And they knew. He knew they knew. Gwi-Ma made sure of that. The awareness blazed a hole in his stomach, and the dead stares weighted on his shoulders like a boulder. Not helpless, and not even pained, but betrayed. Accusatory.
The shame engulfed him.
‘Was it worth it, Jinu?’ Gwi-Ma mocked. ‘An eternity of this, for her?’
Jinu did not have it in him to answer. On the verge of exhaustion, with his immortal body and mind shredded to merely shadows of the old him, he ached, and cried, and thought back to the girl – the hunter – on the other side of the veil. The one in hold of the leftovers of his soul, the only one able to free him from this misery.
Gwi-Ma laughed, while Jinu watched his mother and sister meet a horrible end once more, and prayed to all that was left holy in his pathetic existence, to see Rumi again.
The shrill, agonized screaming of his family wouldn't stop.
It never stopped.
His sister. His mother.
Sometimes the screams would be louder. Sometimes, more muffled. Thin voices and choked sobs. Then, violent and horrid.
A never-ending series of suffering played out all around him, each time he closed his eyes, each time he opened them. It didn't matter whether he ran to them with his arms spread out and tears falling, or sat on the ground with palms pressed against his ears. They were always just as close, just as far.
Too close to ignore.
Too far to reach.
Like a wicked carousel, the scenes looped, no matter where and how long he looked or tried not to. Every horrible scenario he'd ever imagined, and an infinity more, all with one thing in common: him and his self-serving choice be the igniter. The reason behind the torture of those he held dearest. The reality of their pain.
And they knew. He knew they knew. Gwi-Ma made sure of that. The awareness blazed a hole in his stomach, and the dead stares weighted on his shoulders like a boulder. Not helpless, and not even pained, but betrayed. Accusatory.
The shame engulfed him.
‘Was it worth it, Jinu?’ Gwi-Ma mocked. ‘An eternity of this, for her?’
Jinu did not have it in him to answer. On the verge of exhaustion, with his immortal body and mind shredded to merely shadows of the old him, he ached, and cried, and thought back to the girl – the hunter – on the other side of the veil. The one in hold of the leftovers of his soul, the only one able to free him from this misery.
Gwi-Ma laughed, while Jinu watched his mother and sister meet a horrible end once more, and prayed to all that was left holy in his pathetic existence, to see Rumi again.
Rumi, who must have been fully convinced that he was dead.