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Jung Heewon hadn’t said anything yet. That was the most unnerving part. She was just advancing from her side of the plain white room, sword drawn and pointing with lethal accuracy at Han Sooyoung’s chest, expression blank but eyes a fire of promise.
“Yah, Jung Heewon,” Han Sooyoung forced herself to say with false cheer, drawing her twin daggers, “you could have just said you wanted a chance to play.”
Jung Heewon’s top lip curled. “Playtime is over. It’s time you pay for the children you hurt.”
In a flash, Jung Heewon was on her, metal screeching at their clash. Sparks spun from Han Sooyoung’s daggers—they weren't as good quality as Jung Heewon’s sword. Still, Han Sooyoung didn’t dare try to dodge instead. There was nowhere to run. Jung Heewon moved with the poise of a dancer in the performance of her life, her sword whispering through the air without a moment’s hesitation, a show of practiced efficiency. No movement wasted, no soft openings exposed. Just the sleek line of her body, sharp and invulnerable as flint. Effortlessly deadly.
Han Sooyoung parried like her life depended on it, because she was sure now that it did. Her stories rose up to fight alongside her, flowing almost visibly, letters and words stringing together to guide her blades. But the inchoate sentences were split apart, words falling meaningless to the floor against the ruthless precision of the other woman’s attacks. Someone should have told her not to bring a knife to a swordfight. Each block sent shockwaves rattling her bones all the way to her teeth.
It was a good thing, then, that Han Sooyoung’s primary method of fighting had never been physical, anyway. She grinned, a feral, desperate thing. “You’re still hung up on that, huh? Kim Dokja might not like that. You should be careful—it sounds like you might have an independent thought some time soon.”
Jung Heewon’s expressionless face contorted in anger. Lips pulled back, eyebrows furrowed. Eyes a fierce red with the power of Demon Slaying. Then came the flames. “Do not bring that man into this,” she snarled, tongues of scarlet and orange licking her arms, caressing her sword. She swung, and the fire leapt after the movement like a loyal dog. “This is about you, and about atonement.” It was lucky Han Sooyoung had not made any great effort to become close to Jung Heewon so far, or she might have been hurt by this accusation that her survival (underhanded and unnecessarily cruel as it was) was something she should apologise for.
As it was, Han Sooyoung couldn’t help but keep grin wider. It was a real fight now. Sweat beaded between her shoulderblades and stuck wispy hairs to her forehead. Fighting fire with fire was a sure way to let this situation get even more messy, so Han Sooyoung unwrapped her wrist and forearm, smirking. “Because you’ve atoned for the lives you’ve taken, the people you’ve harmed, too, have you? Are your steps the steps of justice? Or maybe, since you’ve been hailed as a divine arbiter of right and wrong, you’re above such measly mortal ideals. Is that it?” Black flames shot out of her hands to attack the Hellfire, and Jung Heewon levelled another swing at her head. Han Sooyoung ducked, but the smell of burnt hair told her it had been close. “Touchy subject? You can’t convince me you also bailed out of the first scenario with insects.” Han Sooyoung punctuated the last word with another torrent of flames, and the blaze swelled to an inferno. Red-orange met black-purple and Jung Heewon disappeared from sight in the explosion of heat. The stigmas wreathed each other, biting and melding and dancing together, teasing and attacking all at once. Han Sooyoung threw her head back and laughed. This was what living felt like. Because Jung Heewon may have been angry, but for as long as she could remember Han Sooyoung had had desperation for survival etched into her bones. She had clawed and scratched and bitten her way here despite the odds, despite her patchy information, and here, battered and bruised, she would remain.
“They were all evil! They needed to be punished!” Jung Heewon emerged from the conflagration like fire itself, burning bright and furious. Oh, but she was breathtaking like this. Han Sooyoung’s wild expression was reflected in those righteous red eyes as she dashed forwards again. So this was how it would be. This was how it always was. Han Sooyoung, the evil one, bearing the weight of hatred again, and again, and again. At least this time, she deserved it. This time, she would own it.
Han Sooyoung’s knives flashed, a flurry of hyphenated lines slicing the air—and there, a line of blood writing itself from Jung Heewon’s bicep. Red crawling down her cheek. Han Sooyoung advanced again, eyes on that slender neck—
Jung Heewon, livid and bloody, cut through her attempt with a mighty sweep. Fire burst out with the force of a catastrophe, and Han Sooyoung crashed into the wall across the room, feeling something crunch. She wasn’t sure that her lungs and heart had come with her. She slumped, feeling eviscerated, against the wall.
In the next moment, she knew that her heart had made the journey with the way it skittered and thumped against her ribs when the tip of Jung Heewon’s sword pressed into the soft skin under her chin, lifting her line of sight. And what a sight it was. Han Sooyoung’s lungs must not have returned yet, as not a single breath passed between her lips even as her head swam.
Jung Heewon was brilliant like this. Devastating. All-encompassing. Chest heaving, blood-smeared, and still unwavering in her intent. Eyes aflame, head high, and justice practically seeping from every pore. The intensity of that gaze struck Han Sooyung dumb. She was pinned. A moth to a collector. A head to be put on a spike.
There was a pinprick of pain. Then the warm slide of her own blood pooling in the hollow of her throat, then further, slipping under the hem of her jumpsuit.
Han Sooyoung watched Jung Heewon’s righteous, blazing eyes follow it down, intensity never wavering, and found her breath. She laughed again. Was this behind the loyal sword’s veneer all along? That gaze felt like calloused fingers, stroking lower. Firm and warm. A different kind of fire bubbled in Han Sooyoung’s stomach, and for a moment, the light of the star on the podium was outshone by the intensity of her desire.
She wouldn’t stand that. It was too much. Too raw, too real, for someone like her.
“Who told you that they were all evil, Heewon-ssi?” Han Sooyoung asked coyly, aiming to disgust and hitting the mark dead-on. “Was it your oh-so-innocent angel, known for ripping apart the demonic species without prejudice or agenda?” A nasty smile split her lip further at the lack of response. More. “Or, don’t tell me. Was it Kim Dokja? That bastard who, no matter what you did, never cared enough to stay—!”
The sword slid through her neck like butter, and Han Sooyoung remembered to transfer consciousness to her real body seconds before the avatar was burned to ash.
“Oh dear, Heewon-ssi. Do you want to kill me, too?” she called, tapping Jung Heewon’s shoulder. She spun with her weapon raised again, but she wasn’t fast enough. Han Sooyoung used a foot, an arm and a story to throw her off balance, and landed on her stomach. She pressed the blade of her dagger against Jung Heewon’s trachea, putting on enough pressure to make her worry. The flames smouldered low around them, no longer the destructive force they could be. Just a memorial, in case they ever forgot how bad of an idea it was for them to come together.
But oh, if Han Sooyoung had thought Jung Heewon was beautiful before, now she was cataclysmic. Jung Heewon’s hair had come loose from its bun and spilled in tangles through the soot. She was controlling her breath, neck held at an awkward angle so as not to cut herself. Her eyes shook, and her pretty face screwed up in pain. From Han Sooyoung’s reminder or the fall, she couldn’t tell. Did it hurt, Han Sooyoung wanted to ask, when you fell from heaven? Or, when he fell from heaven for all of you? When heaven fell, and became another hell with a nice facade? But Jung Heewon was already looking lost and brittle and gorgeous in her brokenness, and Han Sooyoung was not as cruel as she had made herself out to be. Instead, she leaned down, and let her breath fan across Jung Heewon’s ear. “You can save as many people as you want, and it won’t take the blood off your hands,” she whispered. “You can jump as high as you like, but he’s a star you’ll never reach. You can’t save people who don’t want to be saved.”
Jung Heewon’s face was red, from exertion, blood, and a third factor that Han Sooyoung left unnamed, but wanted to exploit. See if it went down further than her elegant collarbones. Feel just what that blush felt like on Jung Heewon’s chest. Watch it spread wherever her hands touched.
She stroked her face to quell the urge, wiping away a trail of drying blood, delighting when the other woman turned away from it, glaring again. “Fuck you,” Jung Heewon whispered. The light in her eyes hissed and spat, but did not fizzle out. “Your walls are looking awfully transparent for someone throwing stones.”
“Oh ho, the caveman can be eloquent after all,” Han Sooyoung remarked with a raised eyebrow. “I didn't know you had it in you.”
The fierceness returned to Jung Heewon’s expression. A woman of many faces, truly. Han Sooyoung thinks she would enjoy breaking her, if she was a character in her book. Thinks that she would enjoy breaking Jung Heewon, here and now.
She won’t, though. The constellations were watching, and that would be for her eyes only. Her eyes, her ears, her hands. Her tongue.
But Jung Heewon, beaten subdued as she was, had not finished fighting.
[Incarnation ‘Jung Heewon’ is requesting use of personal skill ‘Judgement Time’.]
Han Sooyoung sighed. “Letting the dear, righteous, empathetic constellations decide if I’m evil for you, again?” she asked. Jung Heewon didn’t answer. The system message did.
[Many constellations of the ‘Absolute Good’ alignment agree to the use of this skill.]
[Some constellations of the ‘Absolute Good’ alignment disagree to the use of this skill.]
[Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge Of Fire’ is begging her incarnation to reconsider!]
Han Sooyoung sighed again when Jung Heewon’s jaw set, her glare transferring to the messages. “Their decision means nothing to my feelings towards you,” she said.
Han Sooyoung smiled sardonically. “Well, I’m sorry to say this, but your feelings aren’t reciprocated.” Before she had time to be properly offended, or worse, flustered, by the insinuation, Han Sooyoung released Jung Heewon’s neck and jammed the pommel into the side of her head with a controlled movement, with just the right amount of force to knock her out. They had fought for long enough, the timer was nearly up.
A part of her didn't want to let this moment go. This proximity, with no distractions, no monsters, no other incarnations to take Jung Heewon’s attention off her. But even Han Sooyoung’s selfishness had its limits, and having Jung Heewon spread under her like that, glorious and hers, would have to be enough to fuel her fantasies until the next time they had a disagreement.
The star twinkled at her when Han Sooyoung slumped to rest her head on Jung Heewon’s shoulder, and Han Sooyoung scoffed. It had never been about that, never been about control. The dokkaebis or whoever contrived this stupid scenario could shove it up their arses. “I’ll say sorry to those dumb kids for you, if you want,” she grumbled to the unconscious woman beneath her. “Hey, if you ask nicely, I might even mean it.”
Jung Heewon, obviously, didn’t respond.
Han Sooyoung carried Jung Heewon out of the white room to join their other companions. Lee Hyunsung rushed over without a pause, fretting and flapping around them, taking Jung Heewon into his arms instead. Han Sooyoung let him take her with a cold sense of detachedness that felt like a familiar, worn coat she didn’t ever want to have to wear again. Yoo Joonghyuk regarded her with unfeeling eyes before turning away. Kim Dokja scrutinised her expression, something almost sympathetic and awful scrawled across his ugly face. Those two were also roughed up, but Han Sooyoung couldn’t bring herself to give a shit at that moment. She turned away from them all, rewrapping the bandages around her arms. The sounds of the companions cheering and chattering over the cleared scenario made for an infuriating backdrop as she started to clean out the blood under her nails with one of her knives.
The feeling of eyes on her back distracted her from wallowing, and she turned. Jung Heewon’s eyes were open, though she was draped over Lee Hyunsung’s back. And she was staring at her. Her mouth moved, but Han Sooyoung couldn’t work out what she was trying to say. She turned away again, and felt the gaze drop.
She watched, uncaring, as the Star Stream opened up before them, and followed, complaintless, as Kim Dokja led them to the next scenario area. Han Sooyoung didn’t give a flying fuck about any of the constellations she could meet here. Her sponsor could give her anything she needed indirectly, but she didn’t want to look back at Lee Hyunsung. Nice, gentle Lee Hyunsung. The shield to Jung Heewon’s sword. Who wouldn’t hurt a fly unless it threatened him and his friends first. Lee Hyunsung, who was everything Han Sooyoung was not.
Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung. Because that was how it was supposed to be. Leaning against each other, building off each other, covering each others’ weaknesses and providing strength. Morals firmly on the Right side of the line. A match made in a sickly sweet romance cliche guide.
Han Sooyoung ground her teeth and tried not to think about Jung Heewon’s gaze following that trail of blood into her top. Failed not to think about how Jung Heewon’s firm body had felt between her thighs. Stopped trying not to think about the look in Jung Heewon’s eyes when Han Sooyoung leaned down and spoke into her ear.
Han Sooyoung thought about how she knew that look. She had seen it before. On Yoo Sangah, on the occasions they took out their mutual frustrations on each other. On random women (or men, she hadn’t been fussy) in bars before the scenarios, when her house felt a little too big and cold.
And Han Sooyoung thought about how Jung Heewon was a better liar than anyone else here.