Chapter Text
The morning of the Idol Awards arrived with the weight of inevitability pressing down on Rumi's chest like a stone. She'd barely slept, her mind cycling endlessly through the plan she'd finalized with Jinu, the lyrics of "Golden" that would supposedly complete the barrier, and the memory of falling asleep between Mira and Zoey just hours before. Their whispered confessions still echoed in her chest— I love you so much —but she'd convinced herself, as always, that it was the love of teammates, of friends who'd grown up together in the harsh spotlight of the entertainment industry.
Not the desperate, consuming love that kept her awake at night, that made her catalog every casual touch and shared glance like precious artifacts. Not the kind of love that made her heart race when Zoey's fingers tangled with hers during movies, or when Mira's eyes lingered on her face with an intensity that felt like being seen for the first time.
She slipped out before dawn to coordinate with the production team about the last-minute song change, her bare feet silent on the cold dormitory floor. "Golden" would be their closing number, not "Takedown"—a decision that had required every ounce of her leadership authority to push through. The hateful lyrics of their original planned song made her sick now, knowing what she knew about demons like Jinu who were trapped by circumstance rather than inherent evil.
This is for them, she reminded herself as she reviewed the staging notes in the empty practice room, her reflection ghostlike in the mirrored walls. After tonight, the markings will be gone. The shame will be gone. And maybe then I can be worthy of whatever it is they feel for me.
The thought of being worthy—of finally being human enough to deserve their love—made her chest tight with desperate hope. She pressed her palm against the mirror, watching her breath fog the glass, and for a moment allowed herself to imagine it: coming home after their victory, her skin unmarked and clean, and finally being able to say the words that had been burning in her throat for years.
When she returned to their shared dorm, she found Mira and Zoey already awake, their stage outfits laid out like armor waiting to be donned. The sight of them—Mira's pink hair catching the early light as she stretched like a cat, Zoey's bright eyes tracking Rumi's movement with an intensity that made her breath catch—filled her with familiar longing so sharp it was almost physical pain.
"There's our fearless leader," Zoey said, bouncing over to wrap her arms around Rumi's waist. The casual intimacy of it would have been devastating if Rumi hadn't spent years teaching herself to accept it as normal friendship, even as her patterns pulsed beneath her skin in recognition. "Ready to make history?"
Rumi allowed herself to sink into the embrace, memorizing the way Zoey's body fit against hers, the subtle scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her breath against her neck. "More than ready," she replied, her voice catching slightly on the words.
Over Zoey's shoulder, she caught Mira's eye and saw something there—a depth of emotion that made her breath catch, a vulnerability that seemed to echo her own desperate longing. But she pushed the interpretation away, forcing herself to see only friendly concern where her heart wanted to read love.
Friends, she told herself firmly. We're friends who love each other. Nothing more.
"Come here," Mira said softly, extending her hand with a gesture that felt almost reverent. "Both of you."
They moved toward her like gravity was pulling them, and suddenly Rumi found herself enveloped in a three-way embrace that felt like coming home and stepping into fire simultaneously. Mira's arms encircled them both, strong and protective, while Zoey pressed close against Rumi's back, her chin finding the hollow of Rumi's shoulder with practiced ease.
"Whatever happens out there," Mira murmured, her voice rough with emotion, "we face it together."
"Together," Zoey echoed, and Rumi felt the soft press of lips against her neck—so brief it might have been accidental, but it sent electricity racing through her entire body and made her patterns burn beneath her carefully applied concealer.
For a moment, Rumi let herself imagine. What if this was real? What if the love she felt radiating from them was the same desperate, romantic longing that consumed her thoughts? What if they wanted her the way she wanted them—not as a leader or a friend, but as someone to build a life with? What if those gentle kisses they pressed to her temples and cheeks and shoulders meant what her heart hoped they meant?
But the fantasy shattered against the reality of her markings, hidden beneath layers of makeup and strategic clothing. After tonight, if the plan worked, she could finally be worthy of whatever they were offering. She could finally be human enough to deserve their love.
"I need to tell you both something," Rumi said, the words slipping out before she could stop them, carried by the overwhelming need to be honest with them about at least one thing.
They pulled back to look at her, concern flickering across their faces like shadows.
"What is it?" Mira asked, her hand finding Rumi's cheek with practiced tenderness, her thumb tracing across her cheekbone in a gesture that felt like worship.
I'm half-demon. I've been lying to you for years. I love you both so much it feels like dying.
"I just..." Rumi swallowed hard, her throat tight with unshed tears. "I love you both. So much. More than I've ever loved anyone."
The relief on their faces was immediate and radiant—but also, Rumi convinced herself, entirely platonic. The way friends loved each other, the way teammates supported each other, nothing more than that.
"We love you too," Zoey said, squeezing her tighter, her voice thick with emotion that Rumi forced herself to interpret as friendly affection. "God, Rumi, you scared me for a second there."
"So much," Mira agreed, her thumb still stroking across Rumi's cheekbone with infinite gentleness. "You're everything to us."
But not in the way I want, Rumi thought, even as she leaned into Mira's touch like a flower turning toward the sun. Not in the way that matters.
The words hung in the air between them, beautiful and terrible and impossible. She memorized the way they looked at her in that moment—with such tenderness, such devotion, such love that it took her breath away. Tomorrow, when they discovered what she really was, that look would be gone forever.
The arena thrummed with electric anticipation, thousands of voices creating a wall of sound that vibrated through the floor and into Rumi's bones. The Idol Awards were the pinnacle of K-pop achievement, and winning here would cement their legacy forever.
But legacy wasn't what mattered tonight. Tonight was about the golden barrier, about sealing the demons away, about creating a world where Rumi could finally be free of the shame that had haunted her since childhood. Tonight was about earning the right to love and be loved in return.
"Five-year reigning champions," the host announced, his voice booming through the arena. "Here's Huntr/x!"
The crowd's roar was deafening, a tsunami of sound that crashed over them as they walked onto the stage. Rumi felt her heart hammer against her ribs, the lights hot and blinding above them, but even through the sensory overload, she was acutely aware of Mira and Zoey beside her, their presence grounding her in the moment.
As they passed the Saja Boys on their way to the wings, Rumi caught Jinu's eye. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod, and she felt a flutter of hope mixed with terror. The plan would work. It had to work. She couldn't bear the thought of facing another day with these markings, another day of pretending to be something she wasn't.
"Ugh. Look at that smug face," Mira muttered, glaring at one of the other boys with unconcealed disgust. "I want to punch it."
"Save it for the stage," Rumi replied, though her own unease was growing. Something felt wrong about the energy tonight, like the air itself was charged with malevolent intent. The shadows seemed deeper, the lights too bright, and there was a taste in the air like copper and ozone.
They waited in the wings, adrenaline building as the minutes ticked by. This was it—the moment everything would change. Rumi would sing "Golden" with everything she had, create the barrier that would protect both humans and demons like Jinu who wanted redemption, and finally be free of the markings that proclaimed her inhuman nature.
"Please welcome to the stage, the Saja Boys!" the host announced.
But the stage remained empty. The crowd's cheers faltered, confusion rippling through the arena like a wave.
"What's going on?" someone in the audience called out, their voice carrying in the sudden quiet.
Bobby appeared at their side, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by urgent concern. "Girls, the Saja Boys are fighting backstage."
"What?" Zoey asked, her hand instinctively finding Rumi's.
"That means you're on now!"
Rumi's heart rate spiked. This wasn't part of the plan. Jinu was supposed to be here, was supposed to help coordinate everything. But if the Saja Boys were fighting among themselves...
"This is it," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady even as panic clawed at her chest. "For the fans."
"For the world," Zoey added, her hand squeezing Rumi's with desperate strength.
"For us," Mira finished, and the way she said it made Rumi's chest tight with emotion and terrible hope.
For us. If only she knew what that really meant.
The lights hit them as they took the stage, and suddenly everything else faded away. The crowd, the competition, the plan—none of it mattered. There was only the music, the movement, the perfect synchronization of three voices becoming one.
Rumi felt the golden light building inside her as she sang, felt the power of their unity washing over the audience. This was what they'd trained for, what they'd dreamed of since they were teenagers with impossible aspirations and hearts full of hope.
"I was a ghost, I was alone," she sang, pouring her heart into every word. The lyrics felt prophetic now, a declaration of who she'd been and who she was becoming. Around her, the air shimmered with possibility, with the promise of transformation.
Zoey and Mira joined in for their verses, their voices blending seamlessly with hers in harmonies that had taken years to perfect. When they stepped back for her solo, Rumi felt the weight of their trust, their love, their absolute faith in her ability to carry this moment.
"I'm done hiding. Now I'm shining like I'm born to be!" she sang, grabbing onto the aerial ring and letting it carry her above the stage. The crowd was on their feet, their voices joining hers in a chorus that felt like pure magic, like the sound of the universe itself singing.
This was it. This was the moment. She could feel the golden energy building, could sense the shift in the spiritual atmosphere around them. The barrier was responding, preparing to transform, and for the first time in years, Rumi felt truly free.
"We're gonna be, gonna be golden," she sang, her voice soaring over the crowd like a prayer made manifest. "We're gonna be, gonna be—"
The lights cut out.
The music stopped.
And in the sudden, terrifying silence, a different song began to play.
The opening beats of "Takedown" thundered through the arena, and Rumi felt her blood turn to ice. This wasn't supposed to happen. She'd specifically removed this song from the setlist, had coordinated with the sound team to ensure "Golden" would play through to completion.
"What?" she gasped, spinning around to look for Bobby, for anyone who could explain what was happening. The golden light that had been building inside her flickered and died, leaving her feeling hollow and exposed.
In the wings, she could see Zoey and Mira's faces, pale with confusion and growing alarm.
"Why are they playing 'Takedown'?" Zoey shouted over the opening beats, her voice carrying a note of panic that made Rumi's chest tighten.
"Something's wrong," Mira replied, and they both looked toward the stage where Rumi stood frozen in the spotlight, her mind racing to understand what had gone wrong.
"Rumi!" they called out in unison, but their voices were lost in the chaos.
The backup dancers who surrounded her weren't the ones they'd rehearsed with. Their movements were too sharp, too aggressive, and when she looked into their eyes, she saw something inhuman looking back. Their smiles were too wide, their teeth too sharp, and their hands...
"'Takedown'? But we changed it," she said, her voice barely audible over the pounding music that felt like a death knell.
The crowd was confused but getting caught up in the energy. They didn't know this wasn't supposed to happen, didn't understand that every word of this song was a betrayal of everything Rumi had come to believe about herself and her kind.
Through the haze of panic, she saw two figures approaching from the wings. Relief flooded through her—Zoey and Mira were coming to help, to stop this madness, to save her from having to sing words that felt like poison on her tongue.
"Zoey? Mira?" she called out desperately, reaching toward them like a drowning person reaching for shore.
But as they got closer, something was wrong. Their movements were too predatory, their smiles too sharp, too knowing. And when they began to sing along with the track, their voices held a malice that made Rumi's skin crawl.
"Time to kick you straight back into the night! 'Cause I see your real face, it's ugly as sin."
These weren't her girls. These weren't her friends. As the realization hit her, the fake Zoey and Mira began to grab at her, their hands rough and invasive, their claws catching on her clothing with deliberate cruelty.
"Please! Stop!" Rumi cried out, but they were stronger than they should have been, more coordinated than any human dancers could be. Their touches burned against her skin, leaving marks that would fade but memories that would last forever.
In the real wings, Mira and Zoey were fighting through the crowd, trying to reach the stage with desperate determination.
"Rumi!" Zoey screamed, but her voice was lost in the chaos, swallowed by the pounding music and the crowd's confused energy.
"Hang on! We're coming!" Mira shouted, but they were too far away, blocked by security and stage crew who didn't understand the urgency of the situation.
The demons posing as her friends grabbed at Rumi's jacket, their claws catching on the fabric with sickening precision. She felt it tearing, felt the cool air hit her skin, and looked down in horror to see her markings beginning to show through the gaps in her clothing.
"No!" she gasped, trying to cover herself, but there were too many hands, too many grasping fingers, too many eyes watching her most shameful secret being revealed.
"We see what you are," one of the demons hissed in her ear, its voice layered with otherworldly malice and cruel satisfaction.
"You're a demon. A mistake," the other added, its breath hot against her neck, its words like acid on her skin.
"A mistake," they said in unison, their voices weaving together into something that sounded like a curse, like a condemnation that had been waiting her entire life to be spoken. "You have been since the day you were born."
The words hit her like physical blows, each one a confirmation of her deepest fears. She was a mistake. She was wrong. She was everything they fought against, everything they had been trained to destroy.
"No!" The word tore from her throat with such force that the stage lights shattered, raining glass down around them like deadly snow. The sound was raw, primal, the sound of a heart breaking in real time.
In the sudden darkness, the demons vanished, leaving Rumi alone under the emergency lighting. Her jacket hung in tatters, her markings fully exposed and glowing faintly in the dim light. There was no hiding them now, no pretending they were anything other than what they were.
The silence that followed was deafening. Thousands of eyes stared at her, at the silver-purple patterns that covered her arms and chest and throat like a map of her shame. She could feel their shock, their horror, their dawning understanding of what she truly was.
Running toward her from the wings were Mira and Zoey—the real ones this time, their faces tight with concern and fear and something that might have been love if she dared to hope.
"What happened? Are you hurt?" Zoey asked, reaching for her with gentle hands, her voice soft with the kind of care that made Rumi's chest ache.
"How are you here?" Rumi said, her voice shaking with residual terror. "You were just on stage. That wasn't you, right? Oh, thank goodness."
But instead of embracing her, instead of checking if she was injured, they both stopped short. Their eyes went wide, and Rumi followed their gaze downward to see what had captured their attention.
Her markings were fully visible now, the intricate silver-purple patterns that covered her arms, chest, and neck pulsing with otherworldly light. There was no concealer left, no strategic clothing to hide behind. She was exposed, vulnerable, and utterly alone.
"No. No! No. No," Rumi whispered, her hands shaking as she tried futilely to cover herself with the remnants of her jacket. The fabric was useless, torn beyond repair, and her shame was written across her skin for all to see.
"How do you have patterns?" Zoey's voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through Rumi like a blade.
The question hit her like a physical blow. Not why do you have them, not what are they, but how . As if the very existence of her markings was an impossibility, an abomination that shouldn't exist.
"These were supposed to be gone," Rumi said desperately, her voice cracking on every word. "You were never supposed to see them! The plan was supposed to work, the barrier was supposed to—"
"You were hiding this from us?" Mira's voice was flat, emotionless in a way that was somehow worse than anger. "This whole time?"
The betrayal in her tone was like a knife twisting in Rumi's chest. She could see the hurt blooming across Mira's features, could see the way Zoey's eyes filled with tears of shock and confusion.
"No, I have a plan to erase them. Jinu was supposed to... I... He was..."
"Jinu?" Zoey's voice cracked on the name, and something shifted in her expression. The concern was being replaced by something darker, more dangerous. "You're with him?"
The accusation in her tone made Rumi's heart shatter. This was her worst nightmare coming true—not just the discovery of her secret, but the immediate assumption that she was a traitor, a collaborator with the enemy.
"No. No! No! I was using him to fix all this! To fix me!" she cried, reaching toward them with desperate hands, but they both stepped back. The distance between them felt like a chasm, like the end of the world. "So we could all do our duty together!"
They're afraid of me, Rumi realized with dawning horror. They're afraid of what I am. The love she thought she'd seen in their eyes was gone, replaced by shock and betrayal and something that looked dangerously like disgust.
"How could we be together if we can't tell your lies from your truths, Rumi?" Zoey asked, and there were tears in her voice now, tears that fell like acid on Rumi's exposed soul.
Lies. That's what they thought this was. Not protection, not sacrifice, not the desperate attempt to be worthy of their love—just lies.
"I knew it," Mira said quietly, her voice full of a pain that made Rumi's chest cave in. "I knew something was wrong. I knew you were keeping something from us."
The words were like ice water in her veins. Mira had known, had suspected, and instead of trusting her, instead of believing there might be a reason...
"Mira, no!" Rumi reached toward her, but Mira stepped further back, and the distance between them felt like a chasm. "Didn't you see? The gold in the barrier? We're so close! I can still fix this!"
"Fix what?" Zoey demanded, and there was anger in her voice now, hurt and betrayal crystallizing into something sharper. "Fix us? Fix yourself? What exactly needs fixing, Rumi?"
The question was loaded with hurt, with betrayal, with the growing realization that everything they thought they knew about their relationship was built on deception. And underneath it all, Rumi could hear the other question, the one Zoey wasn't asking: What's wrong with us the way we are?
"I can still make it work!" Rumi said desperately, her voice breaking on every word. "The golden barrier, the plan—"
"What plan?" Mira's voice was sharp now, cutting through the air like a blade. "The plan you made with Jinu? The plan you made without us?"
She could see it in their faces now—not just the shock of her demonic heritage, but the deeper hurt of being excluded, of being lied to, of being kept in the dark about something that affected all of them.
"I was protecting you!" she said, her voice rising with desperate panic.
"From what?" Mira shot back, her own voice climbing to match. "From the truth? From trusting us enough to tell us who you really are?"
"From having to choose between me and your duty!" Rumi shouted, the words tearing from her throat like jagged glass. "From having to decide whether to kill me or let me live!"
The silence that followed was deafening. Mira and Zoey stared at her, their faces pale with shock and growing understanding.
"You think we would kill you?" Zoey whispered, her voice broken and small. "You think we would... Rumi, how could you think that?"
"Because that's what demon hunters do!" Rumi said, her voice cracking. "That's what we've trained for! That's what every song, every mission, every moment of our lives has been building toward!"
"Not you," Mira said, and there was something desperate in her voice now. "Never you. We would never—"
"Then why are you looking at me like that?" Rumi demanded, gesturing at their faces, at the shock and hurt and betrayal written across their features. "Why are you standing so far away? Why won't you touch me?"
The questions hung in the air between them like accusations. Mira and Zoey looked at each other, then back at her, and Rumi saw the exact moment they realized what she was thinking.
"Rumi," Zoey said softly, taking a tentative step forward. "We're not afraid of what you are. We're afraid of what you've done."
"What I've done?" Rumi laughed, but it was a bitter sound, full of self-loathing. "What I've done is try to be human enough to deserve you!"
"Deserve us?" Mira's voice was incredulous. "Rumi, you already—"
"No!" Rumi cut her off, her voice rising to a near-scream. "I don't! I never have! I'm a demon, Mira! I'm everything we've spent our lives fighting against!"
"You're not—" Zoey started, but Rumi was beyond hearing.
"I sing songs about how creatures like me should die!" she continued, her voice breaking. "I hunt down my own kind! I've been lying to you for years about what I am!"
"And that's the problem!" Mira shouted back, her own composure finally cracking. "Not what you are—what you've done! The lying, the sneaking around, the making plans with our enemies without telling us!"
"He's not our enemy!" Rumi protested.
"How are we supposed to know that?" Zoey demanded, tears streaming down her face. "How are we supposed to know anything when you've been lying to us for years?"
"I had to lie!" Rumi said, her voice raw with desperation. "Celine told me I had to hide it, that no one could ever know—"
"Celine?" Mira's voice was sharp with shock. "Celine knows? How long has she known?"
"Since the beginning," Rumi whispered, the admission feeling like a final betrayal. "She's the one who taught me to hide it, who helped me cover the markings, who—"
"Who helped you lie to us," Zoey finished, her voice flat and cold. "For years."
The hurt in their faces was devastating. Rumi could see the pieces clicking together in their minds—every avoided touch, every deflected question, every moment of distance suddenly making terrible sense.
"We trusted you," Mira said quietly, and the pain in her voice was like a knife twisting in Rumi's chest. "We loved you, and we trusted you, and you've been lying to us every single day."
"I love you too!" Rumi said desperately. "That's why I couldn't tell you! That's why I had to find a way to fix this first!"
"Fix what?" Zoey screamed, her composure finally shattering completely. "Fix being able to trust us? Fix believing that we could love you for who you are instead of who you pretend to be?"
"I wanted to be worthy of you!" Rumi shouted back, her voice breaking on every word. "I wanted to be human enough to deserve your love!"
"And what about our love?" Mira demanded, her voice raw with emotion. "What about the fact that we've been pouring our hearts out to you for years, and you've been... what? Tolerating it? Pretending it meant something?"
The question hit Rumi like a physical blow. She could see it in their faces now—not just the hurt of being lied to, but the deeper pain of having their love questioned, of wondering if anything they'd shared had been real.
"It did mean something!" she said desperately. "It meant everything!"
"Then why didn't you trust us with this?" Zoey asked, her voice breaking. "Why didn't you trust us to love you anyway?"
"Because I'm a monster!" Rumi screamed, the words tearing from her throat like they were made of glass. The dark, purplish-red of a tear pulsed in her vision. "Because I'm everything you've been taught to hate! Because I'm a mistake that should never have existed!"
The silence that followed was deafening. Mira and Zoey stared at her, their faces pale with shock and something that might have been horror.
"Is that what you think?" Mira whispered, her voice so quiet it was barely audible. "Is that what you think we think of you?"
"I know what I am," Rumi said, her voice hollow and defeated. "I know what I've always been."
"You're the person we love," Zoey said fiercely, taking a step toward her. "You're the person who writes songs that make people cry, who protects people even when it hurts, who—"
"Who's been lying to you for years!" Rumi cut her off. "Who's been working with the enemy! Who's been pretending to be human when I'm not!"
"You think we care about that?" Mira demanded, taking her own step forward. "You think we care more about what you are than who you are?"
"I think you care about the truth," Rumi said bitterly. "And the truth is that I'm not who you thought I was."
"The truth is that you didn't trust us," Zoey said, and there was finality in her voice that made Rumi's heart stop. "The truth is that you made a plan with Jinu—with someone who's been trying to kill us—and you didn't tell us."
"The truth is that you've been lying to us every single day," Mira added, her voice equally final. "About what you are, about what you're planning, about what you're feeling."
"And the truth is that we don't know what's real anymore," Zoey finished, and the words hit Rumi like a death sentence.
Without thinking, without meaning to, Rumi let out a sound of pure anguish—and a wave of pink energy erupted from her body. The demonic power washed over Mira and Zoey like a tide, and Rumi watched in horror as their expressions changed.
The hurt and betrayal were replaced by something infinitely worse: fear. Not fear of her secret, but fear of her. Their eyes went blank for a moment, and when awareness returned, they were no longer looking at her as friends who had been deceived.
They were looking at her as demon hunters confronting a threat.
"No," Rumi whispered, but it was too late. The power had already done its work, had already twisted their emotions into something else, had already proven everything she'd been afraid of.
Mira raised her weapon, the blade gleaming in the emergency lighting. Her hand was steady, her stance professional, but there were tears streaming down her face.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, and the words were like a knife in Rumi's heart. "I'm so sorry."
Zoey was crying too, her whole body shaking as she raised her own weapon. "We don't want…" she said, her voice breaking. "You're... you’ve been hiding so much. Are you even in control right now?"
"I'm in control," Rumi said desperately, but even as she spoke, she could feel the power pulsing beneath her skin, responding to her emotions, threatening to lash out again.
"No," Mira said sadly, her weapon still pointed at Rumi's heart. "You're not. And we can't let you hurt yourself."
"I wouldn't hurt anyone!" Rumi protested, but the words rang hollow even to her own ears. She'd already hurt them, had already used her power against them, had already proven that she was exactly what they'd been trained to fight.
"Rumi… you just did," Zoey said quietly.
They held their weapons steady, pointed at her heart, and Rumi understood. This was what she'd always known would happen. This was what she'd been afraid of from the moment she'd first seen those silver patterns spreading across her skin.
"Zoey, please," she said, her voice broken, defeated. "Mira, please. I love you."
But their weapons didn't waver. They stood there, the three of them, in the ruins of everything they'd built together, and Rumi finally understood the truth.
She had never deserved them. She had never been worthy of their love. She had been living a lie, convincing herself that friendship could be enough, that she could somehow earn their affection by being perfect enough, human enough, good enough.
But she wasn't human. She wasn't good. She was a demon, a mistake, a creature of shame and sorrow who had infected everything she touched.
And now, finally, Mira and Zoey could see her for what she truly was.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, and then she was running, fleeing into the darkness of the backstage area. Behind her, she heard the sound of weapons clattering to the floor, heard Zoey's sob, heard Mira's whispered words that might have been apology or might have been curse.
But it didn't matter. The damage was done. The truth was out. And Rumi finally understood what she should have known all along.
Demons didn't get love stories. They got tragedy.
She ran through the corridors, her vision blurred with tears, her heart shattered into pieces that would never fit back together. Behind her, she could hear them calling her name, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. She had to find...
"Jinu!" she called out desperately, her voice echoing through the empty hallways. "Jinu, where are you?"
But there was no answer, no sign of the demon boy who had promised to help her, who had offered her hope of redemption. She was alone, exposed, and more lost than she had ever been.
The sound of footsteps behind her made her run faster, but she knew they would catch up eventually. And when they did...
The thought was too terrible to complete. She pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle a sob and kept running, deeper into the maze of corridors, deeper into the darkness that felt like the only place she belonged.