Chapter Text
The fans were cheering loudly, the wind softly rubbing against them as they floated down.
It felt like Rumi had held her breath the entire day. Her body had been tense as the nightmare unfolded, but now it felt like she had finally woken up. The Honmoon was back in place, her best friends were by her side, the fans were safe... she had done it. She exhaled.
Bobby came up to the stage and hugged them. "I love my girls," he said with a big smile.
Rumi, Mira, and Zoey looked at each other in surprise, then chuckled and joined the group hug. The fans cheered louder.
"And we love you too, Bobby," Zoey said. A flashback of the demon's illusion flickered in her mind. Just thinking about Bobby getting hurt was too much.
"Yeah, what she said," Mira added, her own flashbacks rushing in. She cleared her throat. "Eh, guys. Maybe we should continue backstage."
Bobby let go and nodded. They had performed here multiple times and were all familiar with the venue. In no time, they reached the changing rooms.
Rumi didn't let go of Zoey and Mira's hands the entire way. A small smile on her face every time she looked at her group around her. All three were lost in thought. Bobby sensed something was off-his girls were never this quiet. His heart ached, remembering what had happened on stage during the Idol Awards. Once inside the room, he broke the silence.
"Girls... you know I'm always here. For literally anything you need. There's nothing I want more than to help you be successful... and happy."
The girls looked at him, then at each other. His tone and posture made it clear he wanted answers. Their eyes darted to the walls and the floor, avoiding each other's gaze as everything hit them at once. Rumi's hand slipped free as she instinctively covered her arms. Zoey and Mira exchanged a look-worried, sad... guilty. Remembering how broken their best friend looked while begging them not to leave.
Mira reached for Rumi's shoulder and gave her a soft smile.
Zoey looked at Bobby. "We know, Bobby. Really. And we're so thankful to have you."
Mira turned to him, still close to Rumi. "And we'll explain everything. But we need some time."
Bobby didn't know what to think. He knew the girls were like sisters. And yet, just hours ago, he saw Mira and Zoey fighting Rumi. Her scream was going to haunt him for a long time. Even now, seeing her curled inward, head down, shaking?-trying to make herself small-haunted him.
"Rumi, are-" he started, but she interrupted.
"Please, Bobby. We need a little debrief after today's show," she said, forcing a soft smile, standing straight.
Bobby could tell it was a mask, but he trusted his girls. If they wanted to fix this together, they would.
"Okay then. Let me know what our next steps are," he said, slipping back into manager mode. He straightened his jacket and left, casting one last glance before closing the door behind him.
Silence filled the room. It was only broken when Rumi collapsed to her knees.
Zoey and Mira rushed to her. "Rumi!"
"I thought I had lost you," Rumi said, looking up at them. She was exhausted. The adrenaline was fading, and the weight of everything that had happened began to settle in. Flasbacks of waves of demons, judging eyes, betrayal and abandonment crosed her mind. And she fought to stay present.
Zoey kneeled and hugged her tightly.
"Thank you for answering my call," Rumi whispered, returning Zoey's embrace and meeting Mira's eyes through her tears. Please, please, please don't look away. Rumi prayed inside her head.
"I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice, or whatever," Mira mumbled, joining the hug. The three girls held each other tightly, letting their emotions flow freely through the tears starting to build in their eyes. It was hard to process safety after standing at the edge of the abyss.
Silence settled in again until Rumi spoke.
"I lied. And I'm so sorry. I should have never lied to you."
The words tumbled out in a rush as she looked from Zoey to Mira. Zoey started to interrupt, but Mira gently grabbed her wrist and gave her a look that said: Let her speak.
Zoey bit her tongue and nodded. It was hard to see Rumi like this, but she understood this was something Rumi needed to say.
Rumi saw the unspoken exchange and took a deep breath.
"I was so scared... terrified to tell you, to show you... to lose you," she admitted, eyes falling to her hands, her thumbs fidgeting nervously. "Honestly, I'm still scared."
Mira and Zoey each grabbed one of her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze.
"Rumi, I'm not going anywhere," Zoey said.
"Not even an army of demons could get us away from you," Mira added with a smirk.
They laughed softly. Rumi sighed in relief.
"I was born like this," she confessed, tracing the patterns on her left arm with her finger. Zoey and Mira followed the motion, full of questions-but they stayed silent. Based on Rumi's song, she still had many unanswered questions herself.
"Celine..." Rumi whispered, and a painful flashback stabbed her mind. Still, she stayed present.
"She taught me to hide them. Since I can remember."
She looked at her friends, eyes begging-not just for forgiveness, but for understanding.
"My dad... he.... he was ...." Rumi shifted her weight. She was uncomfortable." A demon... "Rumi could've sworn she heard a quiet gasp, but she couldn't tell who it came from. "We are hunters -"
Zoey gently stopped Rumi's hand and made her look up.
"We are family, Rumi."
Mira wrapped an arm around her. "What she said!"
Rumi couldn't hold back anymore. All the shame, fear, and secrets she had held onto her entire life poured out with her tears.
"No matter what," Mira said, hugging her tightly.
"We'll go through this together," Zoey added, joining in.
--‐----------------
The warmth of their arms still clung to her skin as she stepped into the dark hall later that night...
Rumi finally walked into her room, still thankful for the conversation with her groupmates. She felt relieved—no longer having to hide—but utterly exhausted. The past few weeks had been the longest of her life. Her bones carried the weight of too many secrets, and even now, with the truth finally out, something inside her still burned. The shame didn’t just vanish overnight.
She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor, as if her shadow might offer answers. So many years spent pretending—lying to everyone, even herself—had carved deep cracks into her self-worth. She had trained herself to be sharp, useful, strong. But when she peeled back the layers of the 'hunter,' she didn’t always recognize the girl beneath. Rumi had lived so long by someone else's mission—by what she owed—that she barely knew how to want anything for herself. Who was she, beyond her orders, her trauma, her pain?
She felt like a soldier left on a battlefield long after the war had ended, unable to stop fighting because she didn’t know what peace looked like. Even joy came wrapped in guilt. The fear that one wrong move would make everyone regret trusting her again—that she would ruin things, as always—kept tightening its grip around her chest.
Then a blue light flashed and she saw a familiar shape by the balcony.
She froze, then slowly approached.
The tiger lifted its head at her approach.
She reached out, petting his nose gently. His big eyes met her hand.
She smiled-and that's when she saw it. Blending in with his fur... so small between his teeth... the bracelet.
She took it in her hands and hugged the tiger tightly. Tears streamed down her face as Jinu's sacrifice replayed in her mind.
She could almost hear his last words, feel his warmth surrounding her.
It felt like Jinu was holding her.
She looked around. There was no one else. Only the chirping of a bird on the railing, and the tiger who now lay calmly beside her.
She had watched him vanish. But somehow... just for a moment... it felt like he never left.
She froze at the thought. The sensation was too real—too familiar. Confusing.
Even now, even after everything, her heart still reacted to him. It wasn’t something she could stop. No matter how much she tried to bury it, to stay angry, to make sense of what he’d done... her feelings betrayed her.
He was her confidant. The one person she had trusted with parts of herself she didn’t even know how to say out loud. She thought she had been the same to him. She hoped she had been. Their connection had felt unlike anything else in her life—deep, undeniable, and terrifying. She didn’t know if she could ever have something like that again.
And now he was gone.
Grief welled up again, heavy and sharp. It clawed its way through her chest like it had been waiting for this moment of silence to rise. She pressed her face into the tiger’s fur, as if hiding could stop the ache. But it didn’t. It just grew.
What was she supposed to do with all this feelings and confusion left behind? With the echoes of words unsaid, and the bond that refused to break—even when everything else had?
The tiger didn’t move. He lay there beside her, still and steady, as if holding space for her heartbreak. As if he understood.
She hugged him tighter. Her tears slowed. Eventually, the weight of it all—grief, exhaustion, safety—pulled her under.
Finally, she slipped into a well-deserved sleep.