Chapter Text
Ryujin didn’t believe in destiny. Not horoscopes. Not vague destiny threads pulled from nowhere. She believed in things you could trace if you looked long enough.
She believed in patterns.
She believed in repetition.
She believed in muscle memory.
She believed in how many times you had to fall before your body stopped flinching. In the way Yeji’s leadership voice sharpened half a note higher when she was stressed. In how Lia’s smile softened at exactly the same angle whenever someone needed comfort. In the way Chaeryeong would sit still and space out when her energy depleted. In how Yuna’s voice would get louder when she’s nervous.
Patterns were safer than fate because it could be studied. These can be corrected, predicted even. Unlike with fate where she has no control over. And spending enough time with her members had taught her to recognize these patterns, the shifts — micro-expressions, breath changes, the half-second hesitations most people missed. But not her, especially not her.
Patterns made sense.
The universe, however, did not make sense.
Mythology, however, wasn’t supposed to make sense either. Or at least that’s what Ryujin told herself when she started reading it. It started innocently, honestly. It started during the Wannabe era—at least that’s what she believed.
The long rehearsals, and endless interviews and schedules. Late-night scrolling that turned into insomnia. In one of those sleepless spirals, Ryujin downloaded a fantasy novel because it was easier than doom-scrolling, hoping well enough sleep would come and visit her for once.
But one novel after another, came another one.
Then another.
By the time promotions for Not Shy rolled around, Ryujin had devoured entire series. Greek myths, roman myths, even retellings and modern interpretations. She devoured them like choreography — memorizing structure, hierarchy, consequence. She was absolutely absorbed. She read between hair styling sessions. She read in vans. She read during shoot breaks. She read anywhere she could.
She even read sitting on the practice room floor while Yeji drilled formations for the hundredth time.
One time, Yeji came close to reporting Ryujin to their manager with how out of hand this seemed to be getting. Ryujin’s dorm bed was permanently cluttered with her recent purchase of books: Percy Jackson, Heroes of Olympus, and at the end where the other books sat, a dog-eared notebook on top, was open and was filled with frantic scribbles:
Are demigods real? I think so
How to spot a demigod? Are they even hiding?
Thoughts about them—
Bang Chan - I think he’s Zeus kid lol or probably Poseidon
Changbin - Ares 100% sure, he’s unnaturally strong after all
Tzuyu - Apollo? Or perhaps Artemis maiden?
TxT…
IU…
etc…
People who feel… different? There’s a lot
Yeji flipped through and blinked, pleasantly surprised and partly concerned.
“Ryujin,” she said carefully, “this just says ‘Changbin – unnaturally strong??’”
Ryujin nodded seriously. “Exactly.”
Yeji sighed but let it go. Ryujin wasn’t lacking or slipping in practice, despite the current demands of their schedule. She wasn’t distracted on stage. “Ryu, this better not escalate into something else, alright?” She warned lightly as she set the notebook down.
“I won’t. You know I won’t,” and she’s right. If anything, Ryujin seemed sharper and it’s physically evident.
Ryujin, always thought mythology as chaotic, too many knick and knacks, a drama neatly wrapped in book covers. But mythology wasn’t chaotic, as she would come to know. It had structure. Gods represented domains, power had lineage and monsters hunted energy. It was systemized. Which with her logic, meant it could exist.
“Demigods would hide in plain sight,” Ryujin said one afternoon in their practice room, lying flat on her back between drills.
Yeji didn’t even bother looking up. “I see you’ve been reading again.”
Yuna popped up immediately. “When does she ever stopped?”
Lia smiled. “Please don’t start a cult.”
Ryujin propped herself up on her elbows, still half panting trying to catch her breath. “I’m serious. If gods were real, they wouldn’t sit on clouds. They’d adapt.” Her gaze unconsciously drifting to Chaeryeong who was staring at the mirror but not exactly at herself.
She was spacing out again. Ryujin nudged her lightly with a sneaker. “Earth to Chaer?”
Chaeryeong blinks. “I’m here,” she blurted. Her gaze lightly landed on her leg before going back to meet Ryujin’s eyes piercing at her. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reached her eyes.
And Ryujin — pattern-oriented, hyper-observant Ryujin — felt something shift and settle under her ribs. A memory not far back stirred awake, recognition dawned at her. This hadn’t started in Seoul.
It had started in Paris.
Something else had started happening around that time — besides it being their group’s first trip out of the country. It was small and very easy to dismiss. But collectively? It was out of the ordinary. That had been the first time Ryujin felt it, noticed it—a pattern.
Streetlights flickering when they passed.
A staff member insisting someone was standing behind them in a mirror when no one was there.
A security guard in Paris later swearing he saw a tall man near their hotel entrance who disappeared when approached.
And Chaeryeong getting injured all of a sudden, with an excuse she could hardly believe.
Ryujin didn’t know it yet — not consciously at least — but something had been watching them long before they landed there. She just didn’t know what—because she wasn’t the target.
Then their Guess Who comeback finally took place. Yeji was steadily keeping an eye on her, should things take a drastic turn. And considering her growing obsession, it was warranted.
“You’re going to miss your cue,” Yeji warned.
“I won’t,” Ryujin said calmly and firmly, flipping a page without looking up.
She didn’t. That was the thing. Ryujin could multitask belief and precision like they were the same thing. It was during a backstage waiting period — makeup half-done, Yuna filming a chaotic vlog — that Ryujin first said it out loud.
“I think demigods are real.”
Lia blinked mid-lip tint. “That’s a strong opener,” she mused. “I mean, you don’t say?” She gestured toward the book she’s holding and the notebook full of scribble and notes spilling from her bag.
Yuna gasped dramatically. “Oh my god. It’s me.” Yeji threw a crumpled tissue at her and Lia snorted a laugh.
“Just kidding, unnie. But well, if you’re about to say I’m secretly powerful, please continue,” whilst checking if Ryujin’s declaration earlier got recorded in the camera like her earlier reaction was.
This time, Yeji groaned, shaking her head at Yuna’s encouragement to Ryujin’s current obsession. Meanwhile Chaeryeong didn’t laugh nor react to the entire conversation. She was sitting quietly, chin resting on her hand, eyes at the phone playing their rehearsals earlier that she was monitoring, yet her gaze remained unfocused. Spacing out again.
Ryujin noticed this, because she always did. “Chaer,” she nudged gently.
Chaeryeong blinked back into the room. “Hmm?”
“You believe me, right?”
“Huh?”
“You believe me, right? That demigods are real?” Ryujin repeated, watching her carefully, anticipating her answer, hoping for a confirmation even.
Because Chaeryeong had been different in Paris.
And there was a pattern there — one Ryujin needed to understand.
Why was she more alert?
Why was she quieter at night, even slipping out to check the hotel hallway after everyone had settled?
And why did she stand just slightly closer during crowded schedules, subtle enough for fans not to notice, obvious enough for Ryujin to?
What happened in Paris, Chaer?
Chaeryeong paused — just half a second too long — careful not to let the dread that had washed over her at Ryujin’s earlier remark show. It was harder than she expected. The sigil at her collarbone burned faintly against her skin.
It’s close, came the whisper — not loud, but firm.
Paris had not been random. The thing that had followed them through narrow streets and beneath cathedral shadows had not lost interest.
I know, she answered silently, aware that her mother was listening.
She inhaled slowly, met Ryujin’s gaze, and said, “I think,” she began carefully, “that myths exist for a reason.”
Ryujin grinned like she had just solved an equation, and stuck her tongue out to the rest of her members like a kid.
“She didn’t agree to you, you know that, right?” Yeji huffed, shaking her head.
“She didn’t disagree either,” Ryujin shrugged, smirking, before going back to reading her book.
Chaeryeong never agrees nor disagrees when things are close to the truth, that’s what Ryujin knows. Because that’s one of Chaeryeong’s patterns.
And Ryujin had started noticing them.
What she didn’t know was that something else had started noticing her back.