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The night of the Idol Awards, once it finally came to an end, left Rumi utterly drained. She had no idea how she had managed to push through it at all, or what kind of sheer willpower she’d been running on to stay upright for so long.
Whatever it was, it gave out the moment everything was over. All the things she had shoved aside and buried deep came crashing down on her at once, like a pipe bursting under unbearable pressure.
She needed a break. God, she needed one so desperately.
Guilt gnawed at her for still not giving her friends all the explanations. They deserved them. They deserved to know everything. Rumi wanted to tell them everything. She was so tired of secrets and lies, of hiding and pretending. Tired of pushing away the very people she ached to pull close and never let go of.
But they had been understanding. As always.
They would wait.
She was grateful, but she knew she was stretching that patience thin. Still, she needed more time. She needed sleep. Rest. A lot of it. Real rest, without worry or anxiety. Without the constant feeling of sitting atop a ticking bomb, where every second spent not acting felt wasted.
Zoey and Mira had reassured her. She could rest. She didn’t have to worry about anything. Between them and Bobby, everything would be handled until she had the strength to face the public again.
They would deal with the fans. They would deal with the tabloids.
And… they would deal with Celine.
That was the one person Rumi had absolutely no strength left to face. No emotional reserve, no mental capacity, not anytime soon.
The hurt ran too deep. Hurt and disappointment. Every time she thought about Celine and all those years, the pain resurfaced. And with it came anger. Anger born of frustration, fueled by helplessness. Because there was nothing to be done. Nothing that could change the past.
But it was far too soon for Rumi’s mind to accept the truth of things she’d never had control over.
She had explained one thing to Zoey and Mira — Celine had forbidden her from telling them about the patterns.
That revelation ignited their own fury. How could Celine hide something like that from them? Why would she do it? If they had known from the very beginning, none of what happened that night would have occurred.
They wouldn’t have split apart. They wouldn’t have nearly lost their family.
So the decision was unanimous. Celine was not allowed into the penthouse.
She would not be allowed anywhere near Rumi until Rumi herself asked for it.
Zoey and Mira were resolute. They would make that clear. They were ready to argue, to demand, to stand their ground, whatever it took to protect Rumi’s peace.
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Meanwhile, Celine knew none of it.
She was kept completely in the dark about what had truly happened during the Idol Awards, about the reason why honmoon had shattered so violently, what had transpired after Rumi disappeared.
She was still in shock. The image of Rumi covered in patterns — looking more demon than human — was burned into her mind. She couldn’t erase it. She could still see it, vividly, every time she closed her eyes.
Rumi’s last words echoed relentlessly in her ears.
They saw… They know… I’m glad to see it destroyed…
Celine couldn’t rest. She couldn’t sit still. She had to pull herself together. The world was safe, or at least, it seemed to be.
But Rumi? What had happened to Rumi?
Celine had to know if she was safe.
The first thing she did was text. When no reply came, she called.
And called again.
She kept calling, relentlessly, flooding Rumi’s phone with missed calls, desperation growing with each unanswered ring.
She didn’t know the device had been turned off.
Neither Mira nor Zoey responded to her messages or calls. And to keep herself from spiraling into panic, Celine decided to go to the tower. She needed to see for herself how everyone was holding up.
Before confronting any of the Huntrix, she turned to the only thing left to her — searching the web. There had to be something. Anything. There always was.
The very first thing that appeared on her feed made her blood run cold.
“Huntr/x’s Public Break-Up.”
There was a video attached.
She stopped dead in her tracks, brows knitting together as she watched what appeared to be Zoey and Mira physically pushing Rumi across the stage.
And that wasn’t even the worst part.
It was the lyrics.
They horrified her. They embodied everything Celine had feared, everything she had tried to prevent. The hunters finding out. Turning against Rumi.
She had to get to the tower. Urgently. Immediately.
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Zoey was pacing, boots scuffing against the floor in tight, restless turns. Mira stood nearby with her arms crossed, lips moving as she quietly rehearsed lines under her breath — arguments, accusations, boundaries she fully intended to enforce.
Both of them had already been warned by security.
Celine was in the tower.
And nothing — absolutely nothing — had stopped her.
Not the front desk staff. Not the building passcode. Not the polite request to please wait in the lobby. Not the carefully worded excuses about Huntrix members being unavailable.
Celine had walked through every barrier.
Zoey let out a sharp exhale. “Okay. We knew this moment would come. We just need to stay firm.”
Mira nodded, jaw set. “We tell her exactly how wrong she was. For hiding Rumi’s patterns. For the damage it caused.”
“And then,” Zoey added, “we send her away. Rumi’s not ready for drama.”
The elevator dinged.
Both of them turned at once.
The doors slid open. And Celine stepped out.
But not the Celine they had braced themselves for. Not the broken, guilty woman they expected. Not someone ready to cry through apologies and excuses.
She emerged tall and rigid. Her posture was stiff and controlled. Her fists were clenched so tightly her knuckles had gone white. Her jaw was locked, teeth grinding behind it. And her eyes were narrowed into something dangerous.
Cold crept down Zoey’s spine. Mira’s stomach dropped.
This was not a woman who had come to apologize.
Celine stopped three strides away. She didn’t greet them. Didn’t soften her expression. Didn’t offer even the barest attempt at civility.
Her gaze cut to Mira. Then Zoey. Sharp and assessing.
Both hunters felt it. Fear.
“What… did you do… to Rumi?” Celine demanded, the words spat through clenched teeth.
Zoey froze. Mira’s breath caught painfully in her chest.
“You’re not answering your phones. Rumi isn’t answering hers.” Celine’s voice was low, vibrating with barely restrained rage. “And then I go online— and I see that performance.”
Zoey opened her mouth to respond. Nothing came out.
Celine took one step closer.
“Now tell me... what. did. you. do.”
Zoey and Mira stood rooted to the spot. They’d prepared speeches. Carefully constructed arguments. They’d spent hours rehearsing what they would say about the patterns, about lies and consequences.
But this?
This fury — something they’d never seen in Celine before to such an extent — it wiped their minds completely blank.
Zoey blinked once. Mira blinked at the same time. Both equally lost.
Finally, Zoey blurted, “What do you mean, what did we do? What did you do?”
Celine’s eyes narrowed further. A muscle twitched in her jaw.
“Are you going to play dumb with me?” Her voice dropped into a low, dangerous growl. “Where is she?”
Zoey stiffened, forcing steadiness into her tone. “Rumi doesn’t want to see you.”
For a short moment, Celine went completely still.
Then, “…She’s alive?” The tension drained just enough for a shaky exhale to escape her. “Thank god.”
The relief in her voice stunned both hunters.
Alive?
Did Celine think—
What exactly did she believe had happened?
Mira’s eyes flicked to Zoey, silently asking if she understood.
Zoey shook her head minutely.
But before either of them could question it, Celine moved.
Purposeful and determined. Head high, shoulders locked and eyes fixed.
She strode past them toward Rumi’s room as though she had every right to be there.
Mira reacted first, stepping directly into her path. “No,” she said firmly, forcing her voice not to waver. “Rumi doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Zoey immediately joined her, flanking Celine from the other side.
Celine stopped, but only because both women were physically blocking the hallway.
Her gaze lifted to Mira first. It was feral.
Mira swallowed.
“Move,” Celine's voice dropped again, “or should I do it for you?”
A shiver shot straight down Zoey’s spine.
Celine wasn’t shouting. She didn’t need to. The calmness in her tone made it far more terrifying.
She looked ready to tear through anyone standing between her and Rumi.
Mira — usually a brave one — tried to hold her ground. But even she couldn’t stop herself from edging back half a step. Celine’s presence was suffocating.
“Celine,” Mira tried again, “Rumi just needs—”
“Don’t lie to me.” Celine snapped. “She told me you both knew what she was. She came to me asking for death.”
Zoey’s expression shattered into pure horror.
“What? She— she asked what?”
“You expect me to believe she’s fine?” Celine hissed. “After what I saw on that stage— after what you said to her?”
Zoey went pale. Mira’s brows drew together as realization finally struck.
They had given a brief public statement about the on-stage breakup.
Apparently, Celine had seen the break-up itself. Without any further explanation.
“Celine… that wasn’t us,” Zoey tried desperately.
“Save it,” Celine cut in coldly. “And get out of my face.”
The standoff was seconds from becoming physical.
Celine’s shoulders squared, her stance shifting into something Mira recognized instantly, the posture right before a strike.
Zoey whispered, panic sharp in her voice, “Mira… she’s going to kill us.”
Mira didn’t disagree.
But before Celine could shove past them and before anyone could make a truly disastrous choice—
a soft click sounded behind the two hunters.
A door opened.
Rumi stepped out, bleary-eyed and disoriented.
Her gaze lifted and landed on the scene before her.
Zoey and Mira stood braced, bodies angled like they were preparing to physically restrain someone.
Celine looked moments away from committing a felony.
Rumi froze.
She had expected many things from today. But Celine storming the tower,— furious, and ready to fight — was not one of them.
She wasn’t even sure she’d ever seen Celine angry like this before.
Rumi blinked slowly, trying to orient herself.
“…What’s going on?”
All three of them froze.
Celine’s entire body changed in an instant.
The rage guttered out like a snuffed candle. Her shoulders lowered and her fists unclenched.
“Rumi…” she breathed, the name leaving her in a soft, shaky exhale.
Her eyes widened as shock and relief crashed over her at once, her gaze snapping to Rumi and taking her in.
Rumi looked… normal. Were the patterns gone?
Celine’s eyes narrowed, sharpening as they traced the details, sweeping over Rumi’s exposed skin.
No. No, they were still there. Covering her entirely.
But they were different. Iridescent. So pale they were almost imperceptible, like delicate fractures in skin that allowed a stored light to seep through.
Celine had never seen anything like it in her life. And she had never imagined — never even allowed herself to consider — that she might think such a thing. But for a fleeting moment, Celine realized that the patterns etched across Rumi’s skin were… strangely pretty.
“We tried to keep her out,” Zoey said apologetically. “And… failed miserably, obviously.”
Rumi looked at Zoey. Then Mira. Then back at Celine.
Mira muttered, rubbing at her forehead, “We really did try.”
Celine slowly tore her gaze away from Rumi, turning back to the other two and the softness vanished as abruptly as it had appeared, fury snapping back into place.
“I’m not allowed to see her,” she said coldly, “but you two are?”
Mira recovered first. Barely. “Well… yes. But since you’ve already seen her, I think you should leave now.”
With Rumi present, both hunters seemed to regain a shred of confidence.
Enough confidence to do something incredibly stupid.
They each grabbed one of Celine’s arms, attempting to guide her toward the elevator.
It lasted half a second.
Celine wrenched herself free, shaking them off as if they weighed nothing.
“Don’t touch me.”
Zoey stumbled back. Mira’s renewed bravado flickered.
Celine stepped forward, her voice trembling.
“I’m not the one who humiliated her in front of the entire world. How could you do that?”
“Celine, that wasn’t us!” Zoey shot back.
Mira nodded quickly. “We’ve been trying to explain—”
They all looked seconds away from throwing hands at each other when Rumi stepped between them.
“It wasn’t them, Celine.”
Celine softened again, enough that the storm drained from her eyes. She looked at Rumi.
“Then what was that?”
“Demons,” Rumi said simply. “Those weren’t the real Mira and Zoey.”
But the words didn’t bring relief. Because what happened after the demon attack wasn’t any better.
Celine swallowed. “But you still came to me.”
Mira and Zoey felt it immediately — that sick, twisting knot of guilt tightening in their stomachs.
They remembered. Rumi begging them to stay.
And them—
“We… saw the patterns and we… summoned our weapons,” Zoey admitted quietly, unable to meet Rumi’s or Celine’s eyes.
Celine’s head snapped toward her.
“You what?!”
The anger returned and she lunged, but Rumi grabbed her shoulders instantly, holding her in place.
“Celine— stop.”
And miraculously, she did.
But Mira’s temper flared in return. She stepped forward, jaw clenched tight.
“What did you expect us to do?” she snapped. “You were hiding Rumi from us this entire time!”
“So you wouldn’t kill her!” Celine fired back.
“That’s the point!” Mira shouted, closing the distance until only Rumi’s body stood between them. “If you had just told us—”
“Can you all please calm down?!” Rumi yelled.
Her voice dropped into that low, demonic grow,l one that sent the honmoon rippling through the air around them.
Everyone froze.
Rumi pressed a hand flat against Mira’s chest, pushing her back a step.
Zoey retreated on her own, face twisting with discomfort. She hated conflict, especially like this.
Rumi was exhausted. She didn’t have the strength for this fight. Not with Celine. Not with Mira. Not with Zoey.
But if she didn’t step in now… at the very least, the two of them would genuinely tear each other apart.
Rumi exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Just…” she sighed, voice flat. “Sit.”
Zoey moved first, practically collapsing onto the couch.
Mira shot Celine a sideways glare, but followed, sitting stiffly beside Zoey, shoulders tight and coiled, like she was ready to spring at the slightest provocation.
Celine hesitated, still rooted in place, her gaze fixed on Rumi.
Her expression softened, curiosity flickering through her eyes. She could see them more clearly now — the patterns tracing Rumi’s face as they flared in harmony with her emotions, shimmering in shifting hues. It looked as though the honmoon itself had wrapped around her.
“Rumi…” she murmured, her voice thin, as if she was afraid of speaking too loudly. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Her hand lifted, slow and uncertain, before coming to rest lightly against Rumi’s cheek.
But Rumi wasn’t okay. Not even close.
She didn’t pull away immediately. She let the touch linger — just long enough to register the warmth — before stepping back, leaving Celine’s hand suspended in empty air.
Celine’s brows knit together, a quick flash of hurt crossing her eyes. But she didn’t argue.
Rumi walked past her.
“Sit,” she repeated, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.
This time, Celine obeyed. She lowered herself into the seat across from Mira and Zoey.
The tension didn’t ease, the earlier fury still simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the wrong word to set it alight again.
Rumi remained standing. She drew in a slow breath, steadying herself, trying to gather what little composure she had left.
“Let me clear up the performance,” she began.
Three pairs of eyes snapped toward her.
“We were in the middle of Golden when demons disguised as Mira and Zoey got on stage,” Rumi continued. “The song switched to Takedown.”
The room went deathly still.
Zoey and Mira replayed it instantly — the abrupt shift, the venom laced through the lyrics, the cruelty dripping from every line.
Words designed to destroy.
And demons had sung them — in their voices — aimed straight at Rumi.
Guilt hit Mira and Zoey like a punch to the chest.
Zoey’s shoulders sagged. Mira’s jaw clenched tight, as if she was fighting off a tremor.
They hadn’t said those words. But Rumi had heard them as if they had. And that alone made them feel sick.
Before either of them could speak—
“And still, the real ones almost killed you.”
Celine’s voice cut through the silence.
She looked only at Rumi, utterly convinced she had been right all along. In her mind, the logic was simple: if no one knew, no one could hurt her. The reveal itself was the danger.
Zoey shot to her feet, her voice cracking. “We didn’t almost kill her!” But the denial wavered. Because she remembered it too clearly.
Rumi’s patterns glowing. Her stepping toward them. Crying. Begging.
And Zoey had summoned her weapon anyway.
She swallowed hard, her voice shrinking. “We… we wouldn’t do that.”
Celine scoffed under her breath.
Mira surged to her feet, anger flaring anew. “Well excuse me— she went to you to kill her!”
Celine rose immediately, matching her stance.
“I could never do such a thing!”
“That’s not the point!” Mira snapped. “She came to you like that — she asked you — and you didn’t stop for even a second to ask yourself why she would do something like that?!”
Celine stiffened, her jaw tightening, but she said nothing.
Mira’s voice dropped, the anger draining away, leaving only bitter resignation.
“Demons deserve to die, don’t they?”
“No—no,” Celine shook her head sharply, panic flashing in her eyes. “Rumi isn’t just some demon.” She clung desperately to that belief, to the idea that Rumi wasn’t truly the thing hunters were meant to eradicate. “That’s why I was trying to protect her. We were supposed to fix this.”
Zoey let out a harsh exhale. “With all due respect… that was so, so stupid. We wouldn’t have hurt her if we’d known from the beginning.”
Celine opened her mouth, ready to defend herself again, to repeat the same justification she’d clung to for years.
She never got the chance.
Everything she was saying was wrong. Every word.
Celine had failed Rumi far worse than Zoey or Mira ever had and she couldn’t even see it.
Rumi snapped.
“Protect me?” Her voice cracked. “You made me think I was broken. Like something was wrong with me!”
She stepped forward, closing the distance.
Mira retreated instantly, this wasn’t her conversation anymore. This was between them and them alone
“You weren’t protecting me,” Rumi continued, her voice shaking. “You were protecting yourself.”
Celine flinched, eyes widening.
Rumi wasn’t finished.
Pain was written across her face. Pain and anger — anger that hadn’t had time to fade, still shimmering beneath, now burning even hotter because Celine was right here in front of her.
She kept moving closer, until there was barely any space left between them.
“You were protecting your perfect little image of who I was supposed to be!”
Then — using both hands — Rumi shoved her. Enough to make Celine stumble back a step.
The shove didn’t hurt. But the words did. God, they did.
Celine had been yelled at by Rumi before — on that nightmare night when everything collapsed and she said every wrong thing she could. But even then, Celine hadn’t understood. She’d been too desperate, too lost, too attached to her old beliefs.
But now she understood. And it hurt far, far worse. Because now the picture was complete. Now she knew why Rumi had come to her begging for death. Because Rumi believed what Celine had taught her: A demon doesn’t deserve to live.
And the cruelest part of all?
Takedown — the song used to torment Rumi on stage — had been born from the hatred Celine herself had instilled in all three of them.
Celine deserved more than a shove. She knew it. She could have handed Rumi a blade and let her drive it straight into her heart — and it still wouldn’t have hurt more than the truth did now.
Rumi’s hands trembled where they hovered in the air, frozen in the space where they’d pushed. Her breathing was uneven, sharp and ragged. The patterns along her skin flickered brighter, unstable. Her eyes shone, glassy, on the verge of tears.
Mira took an instinctive step forward, ready to pull Rumi into her arms, to shield her, to shout at Celine to leave.
But Zoey caught her by the wrist.
Zoey shook her head once — a silent no.
And Mira, despite everything inside her screaming to intervene, didn’t argue. She didn’t want Rumi to go through this, but Zoey was right. This wasn’t their place.
“Rumi…” Celine finally breathed, her voice breaking. She reached out, her hands gently closing around Rumi’s forearms. “I’m sorry.”
This time, she really looked at her — at her face, the glowing patterns, the pain spilling out of her.
But Rumi didn’t look back. And she didn’t want to hear an apology. Not now.
An apology didn’t undo years of damage. It didn’t unteach the hatred she had been raised on. It didn’t erase that night.
Rumi tried to pull her arms free, but she barely got the chance, Celine stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her.
The embrace happened so fast Rumi couldn’t brace herself.
She stiffened instantly, body rigid with shock. She wasn’t sure what to think, how to react, anything.
For a moment, the shock ignited right back into anger.
Her hands shot up, gripping Celine’s shoulders with far too much force.
Her nails dug through the fabric of Celine’s shirt, biting into skin. It hurt. They both knew it. But Rumi couldn’t quite bring herself to push.
Celine grimaced at the pain, but she didn’t loosen her hold. Sharp nails didn’t scare her off.
Rumi was furious.
Or… was she?
She wanted to shove Celine away.
Or… did she?
Because beneath all that anger, beneath the betrayal and the instinct to recoil, there was something else, aching: Rumi wanted to be held. She desperately wanted to be held.
But the embrace came far, far too late.
“I’m so sorry, Rumi…” Celine whispered again, her voice cracking, knowing full well that apologies couldn’t repair what she’d broken. No number of them ever would.
Celine slowly pulled back, though Rumi’s hands were still locked in the fabric of her shirt, fingers trembling and curled tight.
Celine’s own hands rose again — hesitant, hovering just inches from Rumi’s skin, as if held back by something unseen. But unlike that night, she let them settle, pressing her palms to Rumi’s cheeks.
Patterns glowed beneath her touch.
Rumi’s brows drew together, her eyes glossy with unshed tears as they finally lifted to meet Celine’s.
“You are not a mistake, Rumi.”
Rumi swallowed, the last of Celine’s warmth fading from her cheeks as she gently pushed those hands away.
“I know I’m not,” Rumi said, eyes lowered. “But I learnt that without you.”
Something in Celine shattered.
Rumi stepped back. Just enough. Just enough to make the space between them feel like a canyon.
“I had to save myself,” Rumi continued. “Without you.”
Celine moved forward on instinct, reaching for her, but Rumi’s hand snapped up, stopping her cold.
“No.”
Celine froze.
“No.” Rumi shook her head, breathing unsteady. “And you know what?” Her voice rose again.
She turned away from Celine, then faced Zoey and Mira as well — forcing all of them to hear her.
“I pulled myself together,” she said, the words spilling faster with every breath. “I stood up. I saved myself.” Her hands trembled at her sides, fists clenched so tightly it hurt. “You weren’t there,” Rumi continued, her gaze snapping to Mira, then to Zoey. “None of you were there.”
Zoey’s mouth opened, then closed again. Whatever she’d meant to say collapsed before it could take shape.
Mira’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her all at once.
Because Rumi was right.
They had left when she needed them most. They had fallen apart. And if Rumi hadn’t forced herself through the loss and betrayal alone, all of them would have been doomed.
Celine felt the final nail sink in.
“And you know what’s funny?” Rumi said, her voice turning bitter, almost sarcastic. She turned back to Celine, letting out a short, humorless laugh.
“When we fought together again,” she continued, “a demon sacrificed himself for me.”
Celine went utterly still. Her eyes widened, breath catching. She didn’t know what hurt more anymore.
“The thing you taught me to hate,” Rumi said. “The thing you told me didn’t deserve to live.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t stop. “I survived because of myself. And then because of someone you would have killed without a second thought.”
Every word struck Celine like a blade, each one cutting deeper than the last. Perhaps she should have taken it in silence. Perhaps she deserved to.
But in the span of a few days, her entire world had collapsed.
Everything she had believed in, everything she had dedicated her life to protecting, had been wrong. Years of sacrifices lay in ruins. And she had failed. Everywhere. In every way that mattered.
And she was alone again.
And she was tired. Exhausted. Frustrated. Angry.
Everything had fallen apart. And so had she.
There was no strength left to hold herself together.
Celine’s voice rose before she realized she was shouting.
“That was all I ever knew!” she snapped, the words tumbling out too fast. “I watched demons steal the souls of innocent people for half my life. I watched people disappear right in front of me because I wasn’t fast enough!”
Her hands shook as she gestured wildly, the frustration spilling out of her.
“Do you think I had time for questions?” she demanded. “For doubt?”
Rumi stiffened, caught off guard.
She wasn’t used to this — Celine raising her voice like this, letting it crack, letting fear show. For a moment, Rumi’s anger wavered, and she listened despite herself.
Celine swallowed hard.
“Miyeong got pregnant,” she said, her voice faltering. “She died.” She forced herself to keep going. “Another friend disappeared. And suddenly… everyone was gone.”
Her breath hitched.
“I was alone,” she continued more quietly. “Left with a half-demon child I didn’t know the first thing about.”
Rumi stared at her, eyes wide, chest tight.
“You think I knew how to raise a child?” Celine demanded, a humorless laugh tearing out of her . “Let alone one who was everything I’d been trained to destroy?”
Zoey’s throat tightened. Mira’s jaw clenched, not in anger this time, but in something like dawning horror. They had known Celine as a mentor. A legend. Someone immovable. They had never thought of her as young, terrified and alone.
“But I love you,” Celine said suddenly, her gaze locking onto Rumi. Her eyes were glassy now, tears clinging to her lashes — the first Rumi could ever remember seeing. Celine, who never cried. Who never broke.
“I love you,” she repeated, softer now. Resigned. “And I was terrified. Every single day.” Her shoulders sagged. “Terrified that if I made the wrong choice, I’d lose you,” she admitted hoarsely. “Or that I’d get even more people killed.”
Something shifted painfully in Rumi’s chest.
“I’ve tried,” Celine murmured. “I really did.”
The words hung in the stillness. Zoey wiped at her eyes without realizing it. Mira looked away, guilt settling in, making her heart feel heavy in her chest.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Celine broke the silence, swallowing hard. “I shouldn’t have said all that.” Her gaze dropped to the floor, shoulders curling inward at last. “I… I should go.”
The thought of staying — of standing there any longer, exposed and unraveling — was unbearable. She turned slightly, preparing to leave before she said something else she couldn’t take back.
For a moment, no one moved. All three young hunters were reeling.
They had never seen Celine like this — her voice cracked, her hands shaking, her fear laid bare instead of buried. They had never truly considered that she might be struggling too.
Maybe because people like Celine weren’t supposed to. Those things were meant to stay locked away.
And now they weren’t.
Zoey’s chest ached as it all settled in. Celine wasn’t perfect. None of them were.
Zoey was still angry — about the lies, the secrecy, the pain Rumi had endured. But she understood the fear. She had lost people too, watched them disappear. She knew what hatred for demons was born from.
And when she and Mira thought they’d lost Rumi? They had fallen apart completely. But Celine had lost two soulmates — one dead, one vanished — and she’d still stood up the next day and kept the world together. And she had given Zoey a new life. A new place. Celine had been someone who believed in her.
Before she could overthink it, Zoey stepped forward.
“Celine,” she said quietly.
Celine turned, startled, but Zoey didn’t give her time to react. She wrapped her arms around her.
Celine froze.
A hug was the last thing she expected. She stood rigid, stunned, arms hovering uselessly at her sides.
But Zoey didn’t let go.
And god — Celine needed it.
Slowly and reluctantly, her shoulders sagged. Her arms came up and folded around Zoey, tentative at first, then tighter. She lowered her forehead to Zoey’s shoulder, hiding her face where no one could see the tears.
Mira watched them, her chest tight.
She was still angry. Still hurt. Still furious over what Rumi had been put through. But another thought wouldn’t leave her. If she lost Zoey… if she lost Rumi… She knew, it was terrifyingly certain, that she wouldn’t survive it.
And Celine had lost both of her friends. And kept going.
She had taken Mira out of a family that never accepted her and given her another one. One where she belonged.
Mira let out a long, shaky breath. Then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around both of them.
Rumi remained where she was, shaken and quiet, still processing the way Celine had cracked open in front of her. It tugged at something familiar inside her — pulling her back toward herself, toward that instinct to listen, to understand — even as the hurt still burned.
Rumi had always been kind and understanding at her core.
That hadn’t changed. Not even now.
And it wasn’t as if Rumi’s childhood had been all bad.
Celine could be strict — yes. Demanding. But she could also be gentle. Celine had loved her — clumsily and imperfectly — but fiercely all the same.
Perhaps sometimes things just… went wrong. No matter how hard someone tried.
Rumi swallowed. For the first time since she’d started yelling, a different thought crept in.
Maybe I was too harsh.
Another followed — bitter, absurd enough to almost make her snort.
Honestly, Miyeong should be the one apologizing. To both of them. For leaving. For dying. For dumping a half-demon child and a collapsing world into the hands of someone barely out of her own youth.
And that other one too.
Damn them both.
Rumi sighed, dragging a hand down her face.
This is such a mess.
Celine hadn’t done a good job. But… she had tried. And even if trying hadn’t been enough — it hadn’t been nothing either.
Slowly, Rumi stepped forward.
Zoey noticed first, loosening her grip just enough to glance over her shoulder. Mira followed a moment later, eyes widening slightly as Rumi closed the distance.
Rumi didn’t say anything. She simply reached out and wrapped her arms around Celine from behind.
Celine stiffened in surprise, spine straightening.
“Rumi—” she began, but Rumi tightened her hold just a little, resting her forehead between Celine’s shoulder blades.
“I’m not okay,” Rumi murmured quietly. “And I’m still hurt. But…” She hesitated, then exhaled. “I know you’ve tried.”
Celine released a long, shaky breath, and finally let herself relax.
It happened slowly, almost reluctantly, like her body didn’t quite trust that it was allowed to do that. The tension eased from her shoulders, then her spine, the rigid line of her posture softening as she sank into the warmth around her.
It had been so long since she’d been held like this.
Once — years ago — comfort had come easily. Arms had always been there. Hugs were shared without thought. Back when her group still existed, when reassurance didn’t have to be asked for because it was simply there.
And then they were all gone.
One by one, the warmth disappeared. The hugs stopped.
All that remained was duty, survival and responsibility. No space for weakness. No one to lean on. No one to catch her when the weight became too much.
She had learned to stand alone because she’d had no other choice.
And now—
Zoey was pressed against her side, tucked neatly beneath her chin. Zoey’s arms were wrapped firmly around her waist, holding on tightly.
Behind her, Rumi was warm and steady, pressed close, arms secure around her middle. Not tentative anymore and breathing with her.
And to her other side was Mira — one arm draped around Zoey’s shoulders, the other wrapped around Celine’s, her head resting against Celine’s shoulder. The solid weight of it all was grounding and comforting.
Celine was completely surrounded.
Everything that had been yelled out — the anger, the fear, the guilt, the grief — had already torn its way free, no longer festering in her chest. The ache remained, but it was lighter now, no longer crushing or suffocating.
In its place, there was warmth. So much warmth.
Celine let her eyes fall shut, her breathing evening out as she leaned fully into the embrace.
It felt good.