Chapter Text
"I might've figured it out." Zoey's voice came from across the table.
"Figure what out?" Mira looked up from her plate and Zoey's bowl of sundubu sat nearly untouched. It was unusual for Zoey to lose interest in food. She only ever paused like that when something was weighing on her mind.
In contrast, Mira had already picked her way through most of the chimaek.
"I mean... I think so." Zoey hesitated while glancing down. "But you might not like the possibility."
Mira's expression shifted. "About Rumi?"
Zoey nodded once.
"Alright. Shoot."
"I'm not—" Zoey started, then stopped. "I'm not really familiar with this kind of thing, you know? And maybe I'm completely wrong, honestly."
"Okay..." Mira murmured, encouraging.
"You'll probably think, but Zoey, Rumi doesn't seem like the type to do that, and you'd be right. She doesn't."
"Mm."
"But still, I can't help but think it might be true. Just a hunch. Or maybe paranoia. I don't know."
"Go on." Mira said softly, even though her brows were already drawing together.
Zoey let out a small breath. "I just... I'm saying it in case I'm completely wrong, and I hope I am. So please tell me I'm wrong, Mira."
Mira's voice was almost a whisper. "I'd like to."
Zoey sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Actually, forget it. I'm probably being dramatic. It's just... my brain wont stop chewing on it. But if I say it out loud, it'll sound stupid. And if it's not true, I don't want to make it a thing, you know? It's—"
"Zoey." Mira cut in. "Whatever goes around in that big brain of yours is worth mentioning. You'll go into overdrive if you don't, anyway. So tell me."
Zoey blinked. "You really want to know?"
"I wouldn't ask twice if I didn't."
Zoey swallowed. "Okay. Just—promise you won't think I'm reaching."
Mira's lips curved slightly. "No promises."
"It's just..." Zoey's voice grew smaller. "You've noticed how she keeps her sleeves down lately. Even indoors. Even when it's burning outside. Well, it hasn't, lately, but I meant this summer."
Mira stayed silent.
"She rarely asks for help with anything related to your choreographies and has her own changing room every time. When we're all beaten up from battles, she tends to her wounds in secret. And the way she flinches when someone bumps her arm? I know that doesn't mean anything by itself, but—"
"Zoey."
"No, let me finish." Zoey's fingers twisted around her spoon. "It's not like she's clumsy. She's careful about everything. So if she's hiding something, it's on purpose. And I just... I don't know. I started thinking maybe she's... doing something to herself."
Mira didn't respond right away. The sound of the diner filled the gap between them again. Spoons clinking two tables over, someone laughing behind them. Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"See?" Zoey muttered, forcing out a breathy laugh. "I knew it was stupid."
"No, it's not—" Mira said too quickly. Then she stopped and pressed her lips together. "I just mean... it's a far-fetch, you know? We can't be sure."
"But how do you know she doesn't?" Zoey asked softly.
Mira's gaze dropped to her plate. "I don't. I just think she's a more intimate and secretive person."
Zoey leaned back in her chair. "I hate assuming things about people. Especially about someone we actually see every day. It feels invasive."
"Yeah." Mira's voice was quieter now. "And it's not our business unless she wants it to be. Still..." She trailed off, staring at her untouched drink. "She's been off lately. You're not the only one who's noticed."
Zoey looked at her for a long moment. "So you've thought it too."
Mira almost smiled. "I've tried not to."
They sat there for a while, pretending they'd both just dropped it. But neither of them reached for their drinks, and neither of them changed the subject.
"I mean... how many bathhouse visits has she rejected so far?"
"Every single one." Mira replied quietly. "But that doesn't mean—'
"How many times has she asked the designers to change her outfit? How many times have we seen her fuss over things she won't talk about? And the way she always disappears when someone tries to check on her... or how she keeps her injuries hidden after battles, even when she clearly needs help. I mean, it's like she has a whole system for keeping herself out of sight."
Mira's hands tightened around her glass. "So... what are you implying?" She was uncertain if she even wanted the answer.
Zoey hesitated and whispered, "I'm saying... I think she might be harming herself."
"I–" Mira began.
"Not directly, maybe..." Zoey fiddled with her bracelet, twisting it around her fingers. "But maybe she just... doesn't...realize it?"
"How did you even think of this?"
"I don't know... I just felt like something's off. I mean, I'm not an expert on this stuff at all. But I've... seen things. Documentaries and interviews and random late-night deep dives." She exhaled shakily. "It just matched a hunch I've had for a while. So I looked it up to see if any of it lined up. And... yeah. A lot of it did."
For a moment, Mira slipped into her own head and was caught between frustration and stubborn hope. She wanted so badly to prove Zoey wrong and dismiss every worry outright... but Zoey had already laid out too many examples that made sense. Too many things Mira herself had noticed and tried to ignore.
"For a while, I honestly thought maybe she kept turning down our hangout offers because she was scared of being recognized by fans or getting crowded." Zoey admitted.
"I thought that too." Mira cut in. "But it doesn't really add up. She loves her fans, and she does hang out with us sometimes—outside the studio, outside rehearsals. It's not like she's completely avoiding us."
"AGHH, isn't it so frustrating when people hide things from you?" Zoey stirred in her sundubu aggressively.
Mira arched an eyebrow. "Says the person who had been hiding her obsession with turtles from me for so long in fear that I would judge her?"
Zoey's cheeks flushed. "Ugh, whatever. We're deviating from the point I'm trying to make here."
Mira took a sip out of her drink. "So... then... what should we do? Ask her about it?"
"No... I think? You know what she'd say..."
"Deny everything and change the subject?" Mira guessed.
"Yeah. The usual." Zoey gave a knowing smile.
"But... we'll have to talk to her about it, right?"
"We're not even sure that's the case, though. Like you said, could be far-fetched." Zoey pointed out.
"Well, isn't it better to get that worry out of the way? Maybe it is time to ask her." Mira said softly.
Zoey shook her head. "But I don't want to make her uncomfortable, or make her think we don't trust her... or—make her feel like she has to lay her heart out for us, like we did with her. What if we mess it up and she feels cornered?"
Mira reached over to Zoey, lightly tapping her hand. "Okay, hey... maybe we don't have to jump straight in. Yes, she doesn't owe us anything, but we can start slow. Dropping small hints, or asking tiny questions. Nothing invasive, but enough to let her know we're here in case of our worries being proven right."
Zoey's voice was shaky. "Like... feeling her out, without pushing her?"
Mira nodded. "Exactly. We give her space, but we don't ignore what we see. That way, she doesn't feel pressured, and we don't spiral worrying about it either."
The rapper relaxed for a bit. "Okay... yeah. I think I can do that. But, I mean... you know damn well why she isn't here in the first place." she continued. "She rejected our bathhouse offer. Again."
"Yeah, I know." Mira replied quietly. "On our day off, too."
"She said she had some important training scheduled with Celine. Ugh, dammit, Mira—she chose training over that amazing facial appointment we had today?! The first one we finally managed to secretly book for her, and she still turned us down."
Mira huffed a small laugh. "To be fair, she didn't know it was secretly for her. If she did, she might've shown up just to scold us for plotting behind her back."
Zoey slumped forward dramatically. "Exactly! Which means she definitely would've come. And instead she picked getting yelled at by Celine over having her pores steamed and pampered with us."
"Hey, don't be so offended." Mira nudged her knee under the table. "It's not like she even needed it. Have you looked at her lately? She's been glowing."
"Glowing? Mira, the girl looks like she hasn't slept since the dawn of time when she takes her makeup off."
"Yeah, but she's been pushing herself like crazy, y'know, training, singing, dancing... She's more intense." Mira's voice softened. "And you know she hides it well. Maybe too well."
Zoey chewed on that. "...Which is exactly why I worry."
Mira didnt have a comeback for that. Those are the parts fans never really get to see. And in Mira's mind, that was exactly why Rumi pushed herself so hard. She wanted to make sure no one ever saw her falter, just like how the Honmoon wasn't supposed to come apart because of its hunters' faults or fears.
Zoey answered with a frown. "She's sort of always been like this, but now it's like this is next level, you know? I thought I was imagining it."
"No. It's been happening for months now. She's trying to do everything perfectly, all the time."
"I get it... that's probably why she skipped relaxing today. She's keeping busy, overworking herself."
Mira nodded. "And I think we need to be careful how we approach her, but we can't ignore it either."
Zoey nodded but an uncomfortable silence settled between them for a moment.
"You said you wanted to come here because you were craving sundubu," Mira said, "but you've barely touched it."
Zoey gave Mira a soft smile, thankful for her friend's attentiveness. "I can't really eat when I'm stressed. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to come somewhere quiet and let my mind wander."
"Then leave the worrying to me, alright? Now dig in before I pay the bill."
Zoey raised an eyebrow. "Why should I let you worry for the both of us? And excuse me, there's no way you're paying for the food. You did that last time!"
"Because I can handle worrying better than you." Mira joked.
"Only if I get to pay tonight. Unless you want me to scream Mira from Huntrix is eating at this table! out loud."
"Umm... that would also put you in the spotlight, silly." Mira laughed at how long it had taken Zoey to realize.
"Uh, maybe, but you'd be the first one noticed. Hence, you're the visual and all." Zoey grinned in that smug way of hers.
"I'm flattered. Fine, you can pay this time." Mira rolled her eyes with a smile.
Zoey snickered. "If you promise not to make that face the whole night."
"What's with all these demands tonight? I'm not making any promises." Mira teased.
They laughed a little, until Zoey's smile softened and her voice dropped slightly. "I... miss Rumi."
"You talk like she's dead." Mira tried, but the attempt at joking fell short.
"No, but I miss her more when she's not here with us... to laugh at our stupid jokes." Zoey said with a faint warmth in her tone.
Mira nodded, understanding. "Do you think she's eating dinner alone right now?"
"Knowing her, she probably either ordered in or already fell asleep. Wanna bet on how we find her?" Zoey replied in an attempt to light up the mood.
Mira tapped her chopsticks lightly against the rim of her bowl, thinking. "Hmm... she's definitely already locked up in her room, all comfy and ready for bed."
"That actually sounds really nice..." Zoey hummed. "Uuu, we should order some take-away kimbap for her! That'd totally cheer her up. She usually loves the food from this place."
"Yeah, sure." Mira said. "Though she might be asleep by the time we get back to the penthouse."
"You should call her." Zoey suggested. "See if she answers. And even if she doesn't, she can eat it tomorrow."
Mira let out a soft chuckle. "Don't get your hopes up for a whole conversation. She's terrible with phone calls."
"That's fine. I just want her to know we're thinking about her." Zoey grinned.
Mira's expression softened. "Yeah. That's what matters."
✦·┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈·✦
Rumi did not remember making the decision to go straight to her room. One moment she was stepping out of the elevator, the penthouse quiet and subdued the way it always was after late training sessions and when Mira and Zoey were out; the next, she was already unlocking her door and closing it behind her.
She locked it. Not because anyone would come in, but because it was her habit.
It was not as though she had lied this time when she declined her friends' invitation. She truly had important training scheduled with Celine that day, something she could not move or postpone. And in truth, she was exhausted. Training with Celine always left her feeling as though her soul had been wrung out of her. Celine was unforgiving, certainly, but it was all in service of a purpose. Of the greater good. Or whatever it was meant to be.
Her shoes were the first thing she removed, slipped off without care. She took off her jacket next, the cold of the winter night still clinging faintly to the fabric. She had always loved that part of the cold season: the permission it gave her to wear long sleeves without thinking, without rehearsing explanations in advance and constructing small, careful lies. Winter made things easier.
She did not turn on the main lights, only the small lamp by the nightstand, which filled the room with a muted, amber glow.
Her room felt wrong. The air was heavy as though the walls had been holding the day's heat for her return. She stood there for a moment, eyes half-closed, breathing slowly, weighing whether she had the strength to open a window. She did not. Instead, she moved on instinct. She set her phone on the bed, dropped her bag beside it, then reached for the hem of her hoodie. Ordinarily, she would have kept it on. She always did, even when alone. It was simpler that way. Tonight, however, the fabric felt unbearable.
She pulled it over her head and let it fall to the floor. Cool air brushed against her arms and collarbone with an immediate relief. It was followed, just as quickly, by the familiar unease. The quiet, persistent awareness that never entirely left her, even here, even now. Her room was not dangerous yet her body simply did not always understand that.
She crossed the room and lay down on the bed, face-first, the mattress scarcely shifting beneath her. She did not reach for her phone or turn on any music. There was only the steady thud of her heart, the ache in her muscles, and the full weight of the day finally settling in.
Her eyes closed. She told herself she would rest for a moment before gathering strength to shower.
Her phone vibrated.
Once.
Then again.
She did not need to look, but checked anyway. Mira always called instead of texting. Always. even when Rumi did not answer. The screen lit the dim room from the bed.
Rumi swallowed. It was not as though there had been some late-night demon attack and Mira made an urgent call requiring her immediate attention. She would have felt the Honmoon stir if that were the case. And, in truth, she doubted she had the strength to endure a demon attack in her current state.
But she considered answering. Considered forcing her voice into something that sounded less tired.
The vibration stopped. Her breathing gradually slowed, exhaustion drawing her under before guilt could follow. The warmth of the room, the familiar stillness, the soft weight of the sheets all closed around her at once.
Rumi fell asleep like that. Still in her training clothes.