Chapter Text
Sayeon Lee can't recognise herself. That girl in the mirror is a fool.
She was meant to be in bed hours ago, after her midnight training with Min. She overexpended her essence reserves, stupidly, trying to keep up with him. All she had to do was call it a night. End early. Min would've understood; their latest mission wasn't exactly an easy win. It's why he suggested it in the first place.
Sayeon was slow to dodge his swings. It's no secret Min is the best fighter of Cell 4, but they've been sparring long enough that Sayeon can hold her own. So why was it that she kept stumbling over her own feet? Her punches were landing weakly, if at all, and even her defending was subpar. It was like Sayeon wasn't even present, like her mind was completely elsewhere. Min drew back.
"Let's stop here."
Sayeon swayed before she stilled. "Why?"
"You need to rest," Min said, disarming himself of his blades. "Earlier, you used a lot of your essence and then carried Iseul back here. You've exhausted yourself."
Sayeon scoffed. Surely he's not getting soft on her after all this time? Ever impassive, Min stared her down, awaiting a response. There was a certain look in his neon eyes that she just couldn't place. Concern? What, pity? What use was that?
"I'm fine," Sayeon rebuffed. She shifted her weight onto her other foot and reassumed her fighting stance. "As you were."
Min had half a mind to protest. He wanted to insist. But he wore Samin's collar and Sayeon held his leash and she tugged at him harshly, leaving no room for question. So he obliged. Followed suit. Restored his blades. Like a tool ought to.
After their training ended, Sayeon stayed behind. She crumpled to the floor and slumped against the wall. Min was right, she knew he was. But she had to seize every opportunity at bettering herself. Sayeon doesn't have time to lick her wounds. She has a mission. Meaning there was always something to plan for. Always strategies to optimise, tactics to improve. So she willed herself to stand. Trudged towards the girls' showers. And it was in there that she wasted so much fucking time.
Sayeon just kept watching the water trickle down her body and swirl into the drain. Her hands and feet were pruning, but she didn't care. Her mind was racing, whirling like the stream of water beneath her feet. Jaeil, Jugyeong, Mr. Baek. How does she avenge? How can she atone? How much longer until she reaches red tie? What does she do with all this acrimony? Sayeon's head reeled, dizzy with fatigue. Her shower stall was fogged up with so much steam, it was nearing noxious.
Only when her vision dotted black did Sayeon finally exit the shower and dress herself. Now, infront of the mirror, she scrutinises her reflection. Her visage betrays her. Two hollowed eyes meet her gaze, carving out the wreckage left by sleepless nights.
It's a stupid thing, trying to cheat time. Rest is important, necessary for the recovery of the brain and body. You can't complete missions and win points half-asleep. She knows this, and yet, she can't tear her eyes away from her face. She's losing it.
Sayeon only sees a shell of herself. But that begs the question — what is her whole? All her life she's been split between two worlds; she detached herself from Sara and Samin's underworld, conformed to the rules of human society, and where did that get her? All those efforts were futile. The teal essence thrumming beneath her skin is her birthright. She did not want this. But in life, you play the hand you're dealt.
And Sayeon Lee only plays to win.
She takes in her current state. It's... unbecoming. Unfitting, for a leader. A good leader knows their own limits. A good leader composes herself. Steels herself. How would she elevate her cell in this condition? After all, a weak foundation makes for a fragile house. Or however the saying goes.
Sayeon tires of thinking. Her wrists press against the sink basin, aching from holding up her body. She blinks away her sleep. This, too, is futile. Her body needs to rest and it isn't asking anymore. Her knees buckle under her weight, and for a second it feels like she's floating. She blinks again, harder this time and—
One hollowed eye is staring at her.
Its pupil is gaping, swallowing the spirals that seem to have no beginning and no end. The ringed eye peers up at Sayeon from the sink drain, its white glow engulfing the darkness.
The light pierces Sayeon's strained eyes and she snaps her head away, groaning. The result is a thundering headache that threatens to topple her.
"You've kept me waiting, Sayeon." The godling's voice is resounding, seeming to echo from all directions. Sayeon tries to anchor herself, grasping at anything to keep from falling. Is she dreaming right now? The throbbing pain in her skull inclines her to think otherwise.
"What.. how are you—" She wrenches her heavy-lidded eyes open. "How... am I seeing you? I'm awake, aren't I?"
It's taking all her might to make sense of this. Even if she is sleeping, it's an unusual dreamscape — the godling would've placed her in some distant memory or that abyssal void inside the well. Not the Corps' washroom.
"You're apt enough to discern that for yourself," the godling speaks with a resonance that rattles her bones. "Have you decided what it is that you want, yet?"
Cutting through her fog of her drowsiness, Sayeon comes to a realisation. She's not yet dreaming, just toeing the line that separates sleep and wakefulness. Hypnagogia, she recalls hazily. Now she understands. She's been fading in and out of consciousness, microsleeping — the consequence of countless late-night report write-ups.
The godling had been biding its time. It was stalking her, lingering in the depths of her mind until she was torpid, out of sorts and abandoning reason. But it had since tired of this recess.
God does not wait for man.
"Go," Sayeon grits out, pushing herself off the sink. She refuses to commune with the godling. It's a grave understatement, but Sayeon's not in the best shape. Not in the right state of mind for making deals with the Devil. She can't, she won't trade her soul over to it when she's barely conscious enough to know it's happening.
Sayeon staggers in the direction of the door.
"You'd be foolish to make any demands at present," the godling's voice bounces around her skull. "Do you not want my power, child?"
Sayeon doesn't realise she's panting until she tries to swallow. Her mouth is dry and her chest is tight. She's... scared? Idiot, she thinks. It can't harm you. It wouldn't damage its vessel. Contain yourself.
It's the logical train of thought, but that doesn't stop her body from trembling. The pain in her chest intensifies, snaking around her sternum like a vice. Sayeon shoots an arm out onto the wall to steady herself.
"Sayeon Lee, born of Sara. You may have her blood, but you would do well to remember that it is my blessing that runs through those veins."
"Stop," Sayeon gasps.
"Why do you falter? I can grant what you desire."
"Not... now."
"Bind yourself to me, Sayeon. Let us enter into a covenant, and I will show you transcendence, strength that can only be derived from my divinity."
"Stop it," she pleads. But the godling is unyielding, forcing memories of Jaeil to the front of her mind. Sayeon's nose permeates with the acrid smell of cigarette smoke, cheap alcohol, and cheaper cologne. The sensory onslaught is all-consuming, overwhelming, and brings her body to shake with nausea. Sayeon wants to run. But how do you escape the omnipresent? It's in her head, incessantly taunting her with all the things she could've been, and everything she could be with more power. With its power.
Sayeon drags her hand across the wall, feeling her way to the exit. When she finally reaches the doorframe, she clings onto it like it's her lifeline and she's drowning in an ocean of her own tears.
"My champion," it insists. "My blessed."
"Please stop," Sayeon rasps. She feels the godling reining her in, trying to coax her into the dream world. She can't let herself be taken under.
Move.
Sayeon takes a step forward but she's so disoriented she can't feel her legs — shit, she rolled her ankle — and she keels over, no time to brace for impact—
"What the fuck?"
She didn't fall.
"Glasses!"
Someone's holding her.
She looks down to see a girl staring up at her in bewilderment.
"Jesus Christ, Lee. What the fuck is wrong with you, seriously?"
Sayeon sees God in her eyes.
"Ryujin," she breathes.
Ryujin woke up with a bad taste in her mouth. It's not the cigarettes this time, but a more figurative, unsettling kind of discomfort. She turned over onto her back and blinked blearily at the ceiling. It took Ryujin a moment to figure out what disturbed her sleep; she felt oddly nauseous. And this nausea only amplified, seeping into her bones like a sponge soaked up water.
Ryujin was wide awake now, and started to frown. She was sensing someone. It's infectious, this aura. It felt strange and sickly, and it felt like—
Sayeon.
Ryujin sat up.
Sayeon?
She snapped her head to the left. The moonlight filtering in through the window wasn't bright enough, so Ryujin had to squint to find Sayeon's empty bed. It's undisturbed, still in its pristine state from this morning.
"What the..." Ryujin trailed off. She had to be quiet, careful not to wake Dahee and Tsubaki. She could tell Sayeon wasn't far, since she was feeling her aura so intensely. So Ryujin stumbled out of bed, itching to give her a piece of her mind. It was quite literally the crack of dawn. What the hell did Sayeon think she was doing, waking her up at this time?
Fucking insane, Ryujin thought. Her feet slide into her slippers, and she had to make a conscious effort to not stomp out of the room. She scratched at her scalp, grumbling under her breath as she made her way out. The motion-sensor lights in the corridor flickered on, making Ryujin wince and rub her eyes.
Ryujin followed Sayeon, tracing her aura to... the girls' toilets? Honestly, sometimes she just didn't get her. Was Sayeon being sick or something? Ryujin knew about her nightly trainings with Min — Iseul mentioned it in passing, and she really couldn't care any less. But to exert yourself to the point of vomiting? Ryujin thought it moronic. Bend yourself backwards for the Corps, and they'll just fuck you over, toss you out, and do the same to the next poor soul. There's no light at the end of this tunnel.
Ryujin was mid-yawn when Sayeon's aura flared up. It stopped her dead in her tracks. Ryujin could even detect her essence now, which kept flashing on and off erratically. Now, Sayeon felt like something wretched, as if some tainted thing within her was festering. It was unlike anything Ryujin had ever sensed before.
She began to walk a few paces faster. Ryujin rushed down the hallway, turned a corner and finally saw her.
Sayeon Lee was hunched over, grasping her chest and clawing at the bathroom door.
"Sayeon?" Ryujin took a tentative step forward.
She couldn't tell if Sayeon was ignoring her or if she really didn't notice her. Sayeon seemed to be mumbling something, but it was too quiet for Ryujin to hear.
"Oi, Glasses. You okay?"
She's still unresponsive. Instead of acknowledging Ryujin, Sayeon releases her hold on her shirt and clutches her head in agony. Sayeon groans and Ryujin's too agitated to stand still any longer. She can't see her face.
"Sayeon, hey. Talk to me—"
Sayeon stumbles.
"What the fuck?"
Ryujin catches her.
"Glasses!"
She looks down.
"Jesus Christ, Lee." Ryujin's holding Sayeon up by her upper arms and she's freezing cold to the touch. "What the fuck is wrong with you, seriously?"
"Ryujin," Sayeon breathes. Her eyes are teal and teary and dazed, boring into Ryujin's own like she's not really looking at her at all. She feels so distant; she's slipping away even though Ryujin's holding her so tightly.
"What happened? You— you're activating your essence. And your aura's so fucking weird, it's making me feel ill. And you're crying too," Ryujin says, eyes darting all over Sayeon's body.
Sayeon trembles with every breath she takes. Ryujin's not meant to be here. Ryujin's not meant to be here, she's supposed to be sleeping, but here she is anyway, watching her fall apart. Sayeon doesn't have enough essence to rewind this. She needs to focus.
But the godling is relentless. Each time Sayeon looks at Ryujin, her Lucy's eyes are replaced for its spirals. She sees Ryujin's dead body on the concrete floor of that warehouse. Her white cap stained red. Sayeon shudders.
"M'fine," she croaks, pulling away.
Ryujin grabs at her. "What the hell are you— I'm trying to help you!"
Sayeon's eyelids start drooping, but she blinks herself awake. She pushes at Ryujin weakly. "No," she whines.
Ryujin doesn't move an inch. "What d'you mean 'no', Glasses? You sound like shit and you look even worse. C'mon, I'll take you to the infirmary, yeah?"
Sayeon shakes her head. She doesn't need her help. Once this passes, once the godling leaves, she'd be okay again and she could finally sleep. She just needed to hold out a little while longer.
She shoves at Ryujin's shoulders, trying to escape from her grip, but again this proves futile and utterly pathetic.
Ryujin couldn't understand how someone so clearly unstable could be this stubborn. "Sayeon," she stresses, her voice laden with concern. It feels like the aftermath of that fight with the Begonias all over again — Sayeon crying in her sleep over a nightmare she couldn't remember. Only this time she's awake and whatever's terrifying her is still unbeknownst to Ryujin. What the fuck is happening right now?
"Let go," Sayeon orders. Unfortunately for her, she's weeping too much for her words to be compelling, so it hits Ryujin's ears as the piteous scramble for control that it actually is instead of the command Sayeon wanted it to be.
"Glasses, stop fighting me," Ryujin urged. Must she always be this difficult? "I can help, let me help you."
"You can't," Sayeon sobs. "Please stop."
Ryujin continues. "Tell me what's wrong."
I can't, she laments. You couldn't understand. You'd never understand.
"I'll be fine, just... let go," Sayeon insists. Her head is splitting, her ears are ringing and her mind's a cacophony of sound. Jaeil's voice, the godling's own, Jugyeong's laughter and it's all too loud. Too loud, too loud, too loud—
Sayeon slumps forward, all her weight on Ryujin's shoulders.
"Ah, shit—" Ryujin jolts.
Sayeon tries to pull back, tries to push herself upright but it's no use. Her legs give way beneath her and she's on the brink of collapse.
Ryujin catches on. She presses into Sayeon, and Sayeon latches onto her with a grunt.
"Hey, easy, easy," Ryujin soothes, slowly lowering both Sayeon and herself to the ground. Ryujin puts her back against a wall and settles Sayeon across her lap, using her free hand to cradle the back of her head.
Cold sweat beads down Sayeon's forehead, sticking to the strands of hair framing her face. She's shivering, Ryujin notes. Her hand is still tight around Ryujin's forearm, despite the rest of her body being weak and sluggish. Sayeon's breathing is quick and shalllow, and she's murmuring words Ryujin can't make sense of.
Now that they're on the floor, it dawns on Ryujin that she might be fucked: how the hell was she going to move this dead weight all the way back to the dorms? Ryujin huffs, curses, then tips her head back onto the wall. She peers down at Sayeon. Ryujin isn't sure of what she's looking at. How could someone so obstinate look so helpless?
Beneath her, Sayeon begins to stir. Her dozy eyes flutter open, blinking through tears to see the person holding her. Ryujin just stares down at her, unspeaking; she looks pensive, rapt in thought. It makes Sayeon feel so small. Don't make that face, she thinks. I don't need your pity.
The godling withdrew some time ago. She doesn't hear its provocations anymore, and her vision is no longer distorted too. Sayeon can't define it just yet, but there's something about Ryujin that anchors her. This is the second time that she's cut off Sayeon's dialogue with the godling, though this time it worked in her favour. Ryujin Kang is frustratingly interfering, but Sayeon will excuse her for tonight.
Sayeon releases a shaky breath and lets her eyes fall closed again. She can't bear to look at Ryujin any longer. If Sayeon had a bit more energy, she would have tried to get up, but all the fight in her has extinguished. It'd be no use anyways; Ryujin would've just subdued her again. Meddler.
The heat radiating from Ryujin's body isn't helping either. Sayeon's already so exhausted, and it's only beckoning her to sleep. She was so cold earlier. It's much warmer here.
Ryujin always runs so hot, Sayeon muses. She recognises it. It's the same heat behind every punch, infused into each scathing word, and at the core of all her impassioned dissents. All that fire, all that rage, it could be put to use here, to serve her — Ryujin owed her that much.
Sayeon started to drift off. The hand gripping Ryujin's arm went lax, and the rest of her body slackened in turn. Ryujin held Sayeon's head a little firmer to support her neck.
"Sayeon," Ryujin finally spoke. "Don't you fucking fall asleep on me."
Sayeon didn't respond. Instead, she sought comfort, nestling her face into Ryujin's side. Whether she'd see the godling again in her dreams or not didn't matter to Sayeon right now. All she wanted was to rest.
"Hey. Lee," Ryujin lifted her other hand from Sayeon's hip to tap at her face repeatedly. She felt a strong urge to slap her awake. "Sayeon Lee!"
Sayeon was out like a light. No amount of jostling would wake her now.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Ryujin grumbled.
Sayeon falling asleep reminded Ryujin of her own drowsiness. The corners of her eyes burned with fatigue, but Ryujin blinked away the grit in them and pressed her fingers to Sayeon's neck. Ryujin found a pulse. She then hovered her hand infront of Sayeon's face. She's still breathing.
She's okay. A floret of relief blossomed in Ryujin's chest. Now what? she thought.
If Ryujin was in better shape, they'd already be back at the dorms by now. But their previous mission was so physically demanding that all her muscles were fatigued. Even getting out of bed to walk down here was tiring. But Ryujin had to do it. She had to, for Sayeon. For the girl who was sprawled out across her lap, still trembling in her sleep from whatever-the-fuck happened to her earlier.
Ryujin couldn't understand it. And Sayeon wouldn't let her ask. She'd simply remind Ryujin that she's indebted to her, meaning she questions nothing, despite the fact that this incident in particular has nothing to do with their Cell or their missions, but Ryujin cannot probe any further and so Sayeon dismisses her. The same old dance.
"Idiot," Ryujin whispers. She brings her hand back to Sayeon's face, this time to brush her bangs out of her eyes. "You should've just let me help."
They stay like this for a while: Sayeon Lee, sleeping, and Ryujin Kang, still pensive, eyes downcast.
Just as Ryujin starts to think of the best way to get them both off the ground, she hears something like soft footsteps. She froze in anticipation. Who the fuck else is awake at this time of the night?
She turns her head to the right. Ryujin can barely make out the figure in the shadows of the hallway.
"Tsubaki?"
She yelps at the mention of her name, startled out of her sleepy reverie. "Ah! Who... Ryujin?"
Ryujin sighs. "What, did Sayeon wake you too?"
"Huh? No, I— oh my gosh, Sayeon!" Tsubaki gasps, only noticing Sayeon's body on the floor at Ryujin's mention of her. "Is she okay?"
"Uh, yeah, she's alright now," Ryujin answers, turning her face back to Sayeon. "She's asleep."
Tsubaki's at her side within seconds. She lands into a deep squat, and her tired eyes anxiously skim over Sayeon's form. "What happened to her?"
"I don't know. I think she was sleepwalking. Or something like that," Ryujin says. She looks at Tsubaki. "You said her aura didn't wake you up?"
Tsubaki gives a small shake of her head. "I only came for the bathroom," she replied, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I didn't sense anything."
Ryujin returns to observing Sayeon. "Huh," she mutters.
Sayeon's face was still blotchy and wet from all her crying earlier. As if on cue, a stray tear falls from her eye. Ryujin watches it trickle down Sayeon's cheek.
"Could you help me take her back to our dorm?" Ryujin asks. She uses her thumb to wipe the teardrop away.
Tsubaki's eyes flit between the two of them. The interaction seems uncharacteristically gentle to her.
Oh, she thinks. Dahee was right.
"Tsubaki," Ryujin prompts. "Please?"
Tsubaki blinks. "Yeah— yes, of course, sorry," she says, moving to stand. "Um, how do you want me to..."
Ryujin slips out from underneath Sayeon, slinking her arm behind Sayeon's back. "Grab onto my arm."
Tsubaki obliges, and Ryujin grasps onto hers. She uses her free arm to sling Sayeon's arm around her neck. Tsubaki does the same.
Ryujin slips her other arm under Sayeon's thighs. "Okay, now hold onto me."
Tsubaki clasps her hand around Ryujin's wrist, meeting her in a tight grip — this makes a sort of seat on which Sayeon can be supported on. They lift her up on Ryujin's count of three; Sayeon's head lolls forward, but she's kept steady thanks to Ryujin's vigilance.
"Heavy?" Ryujin checks on Tsubaki.
"No." Tsubaki adjusts her feet. "I can manage."
Ryujin hummed in acknowledgment.
The girls distribute Sayeon's bodyweight between themselves, slowly making their way back to the dorms.
As they approach Sayeon's bed, Tsubaki and Ryujin begin to loosen their grip on eachother. They come to a stop at the foot of her bed; Sayeon's lowered onto the mattress, her upper half slumped against Ryujin, allowing Tsubaki to pull back her neatly tucked-in sheets.
Together, they pull Sayeon's body upwards, bringing her head to rest on her pillow. She hadn't stirred once throughout the journey; she just continues sleeping softly like she'd always been resting there.
Ryujin gives Sayeon a once-over. She plucks the red glasses from her face, folding and setting them on the windowsill. She watches Sayeon's chest rise and fall in tandem with her breathing. Ryujin wonders which of them will be the first to bring this up tomorrow morning. Ryujin also knows the answer to that question.
Tsubaki stretches, breaking out into a quiet yawn.
Ryujin turns. She whispers a thank you.
Tsubaki receives with it a sleepy nod. She shuffles out of the room, glancing quickly over at Dahee before heading back to the girls' toilets. This time she wouldn't be interrupted on the way there.
Ryujin returns to Sayeon, covering her body with her duvet. She drags Sayeon's ugly stuffed rabbit out of its hiding spot from under the pillow, and hastily places it in the crook of Sayeon's neck. That last action was a spontaneous one, born of a split-second thought and Ryujin decides she won't dwell on it any longer. She hopes to never touch that thing again.
Now it's Ryujin's turn to yawn. Completely spent, she flumps face-first into her own bed.
Ryujin Kang has very few things to look forward to. Whatever occurs in the next 24 hours is not one of them.