Chapter Text
The city lights gleamed against the tall ceiling to floor window, spots of neon blue, yellow and pink dotting the skyline. Waves of shimmering blue riding over the scene, their new sacred honmoon, blanketed over the city like a floating illusion, flickering towards the horizon. Somewhere ahead, a red light blinks at rhythmic intervals, so discreet that it bends into the view. Rumi sat with her legs crossed, on the couch facing the window, her eyes stuck near the horizon, searching for something she
didn't know herself. Her fingers nip at her sleeve, and she sighed heavily. Their new honmoon was stronger than ever, so powerful that even Celine said that she hadn't seen it pulsating with so much fervour back in her time. Tears that led to the demon realm were occasional but rarer than they had before, and lesser people seem to disappear since the past few days. It has been three months since that damned Idol Awards where she and her girls had faced off against Gwi-ma, and with their honmoon bordering on infancy, everything else was going on steady enough for the HUNTRIX to take a well-deserved fantastic luxurious hiatus, as Bobby liked to urge them often.
Heck, Rumi even went to an actual bathhouse, and the experience went beyond Zoey’s excited enthusiasm about it.
Things were going good—too good for her to not pause and wonder if something was wrong. If something was brewing for them, bubbling up and waiting for the right moment of weakness to fall
off the rim. This moment felt like a false sense of security. And Celine…she hadn't really talked with her since their argument, it was mostly Zoey who continued to stay in touch with their mentor over the phone because Mira was too pissed over what happened to even try and listen to the older woman. Rumi didn't really want to break them apart but, Mira was just stubborn that way. She'd seem blunt or
too unbothered to care, but was one of the firsts to speak out and stand up for the people she truly cared about. She was strong in a way Rumi wasn't, kind in a way none of them could be. It made her
feel guilty, guilty for the way Rumi was moping alone in the middle of the night, knees drawn to her chest and that look in her eye said it wanted more. Not greed, just longing.
A soft sound was emitted from outside, stealing Rumi’s thoughts away. Her feet padded onto the polished floor of their penthouse as she slid down from the couch, walking towards the balcony. Rumi
peered out, letting the cold breeze hit her skin and ruffle her hair back, and as always, was met with a familiar blue tail flicking around the corner. She tried to suppress a smile.
“Hello,” she whispered as she walked towards that bobbing blue head coming out from the ground. Bright orange eyes blinked at her slowly, and a second later, a three eyed bird perched itself on the tiger’s head with a flap of its black wings. The portal under it widened as Tiger emerged fully, slowly towering her crouched form. Rumi stood up and slid her knuckle from in between its eyes to the top of its head, making the strange animal close its eyes in satisfaction and let out a deep purr. Walking around her form, it rubbed its head against her hip, circling around her, tail curling happily. Since the past three months, Rumi had been having this demonic visitor pop up around her house almost everyday. She didn't seem to mind it intruding on her life like this, and keeping a little pet was no harm. Instead, the tiger seemed to be quite useful at times.
When the bird (pigeon, crow, swallow? She wondered what species of demons this one belonged to) perched itself on her shoulder and gently nipped her ear, Rumi knew it was time.
There was a demon for her to hunt.
The tiger hopped over the honmoon with Rumi holding its side as she rode it's back to where they took her. Touching Derpy’s fur was like plunging your hand in a container of wispy morning fog. Slightly cool, refreshing. The tips of its blue fur felt like soft feathers. It gave out a low rumble when it bounced on the rooftop of a residential building. The bird followed swiftly after. Rumi walked towards the edge and peered down the railing.
“Nothing seems wrong,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
A nudge at her elbow meant yes. Derpy's tail curled around her ankle, and the bird pecked at the back of her head. Hard.
A big yes, it seemed. Rumi heaved a sigh and swung a leg across the railing. With her other foot on the ground, she jumped.
The cold air hit her face with the force of a truck as she propelled downwards, gravity pulling her down. For a second, Rumi felt like smiling.
The second was over before she landed on the balcony below. On her feet, with a quiet thup. No malicious entities nearby. No demonic presence. Why had the tiger brought her here? Then she turned around and—oh, oh not again.
Rumi was right in front of someone's living room. The balcony where she was on was a part of someone's apartment. And by the looks of it, the couple sitting on the couch in front of her were seconds away from getting too cozy. Rumi nudged herself in the narrow space between the two adjacent walls to conceal herself, hoping the couple wouldn't notice a worldwide famous pop star breaking their momentarily peace of romance. Derpy's head popped out from a blue portal in the
middle of the balcony. It swiveled to face her and gave out a chirp.
“You are too young for this,” Rumi hissed and then grabbed the tiger's striped tail, pulling it towards her hideout. It calmly let her drag it inside. With Derpy's big floofy form hidden between the two walls, she tried not to get suffocated and peered towards the couple. Nothing really seemed wrong with them.
The man sitting inside draped an arm around his partner over the couch’s armrest while a k-drama played on their flat screen T.V.
Ah, quiet couple intimacy. Something that has been missing in Rumi's life since her sorry existence decided to pop into this world. She was born with that part missing. A defective piece. Embarrassingly, she never had a boyfriend. Zoey had one back in America, Mira had a brief girlfriend before her trainee days. But Rumi? Celine had a no-boys policy for her ever since Rumi was old enough to understand what kissing and dating were. It was alright though, she was never really interested in settling down romantically anyway, at least not yet. At least not before she met him.
Ugh, she was thinking about him again. She shouldn't be thinking about him. Not anymore. She promised herself. No thoughts of him. He isn't important now.
Any more thoughts of him were interrupted when the man on the couch leaned down to kiss his girlfriend. His girlfriend responded by deepening the kiss and Rumi—poor Rumi felt a shiver of repulsion zap down her spine. The bird put a wing in front of Derpy's eyes.
Oh for the sake of God, someone get her out of here. She felt like a creep, watching a stranger’s personal intimacy up-close. But there was no way out unless the couple decided to leave the living room, so she was undeniably and woefully doomed.
As the scene played out in front of them, Derpy tried to angle its head to get a better view of the—oh no you don't. This isn't meant for you. It let out a small whimper when Rumi moved sideways to block its view.
Finally, finally, the girl rose from the couch, said something inaudible to get boyfriend and left the room with a small peck to his lips. Rumi let out a sigh of relief.
The moment the girl left though, her boyfriend was seen rubbing his tongue against his sleeve as if it was sandpaper. Desperate to rub it off. Trying to pull out his tongue. The disgust he felt from kissing his girlfriend was more than
what Rumi felt while watching them.
Wow, Rumi thought to herself as she watched the man desperately jitter around the room for a glass of water. Who even does that? Celine was right, men were only seconds to demon, disgusting deplorable creatures, seriously, what a jerk—
Oh, he was a demon. Of course he was. The marks on his neck said so. Of course he'd find it disgusting, locking lips with a human, they weren't really known to be quite lovable creatures, a prime reason why they were sealed away in the underworld to burn for eternity in the first place. When the demon-boyfriend started to bang his head against the wall to stamp down a broken wail, Rumi almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
With the coast clear and no impending presence of the demon's human girlfriend, Rumi slowly retracted herself from her hiding spots, making her way towards the room with her back to the wall. Quietly, her steps leaving no echoes in its wake, hand at her side battle ready. The demon didn't hear her approach, too busy drowning in his misery, giving her the time to slowly unlatch the sliding glass door and push it open. No lock, it seems. A huge safety hazard, but who is she to complain? If she was a demon parading as a human to suck the soul of her significant other, she would try to be extra careful of her surroundings. Surely, he wouldn't want his girlfriend to find out about his…morality issues, right?
Oh well, Rumi thought. Not her problem. She's just here to bathe this demon in his own blood. Her hands brace behind her, channeling her energy to summon her trusty sword. Particles of magic swirl around her fingers, sparkling in the nightlight, before vibrating around in a frenzy as they come together in the form of a blade. Long, sleek, wider than what she had before. It emitted a soft blue glow, hues of pink in the middle, speaking of its demon ancestry. Of her demon ancestry.
With her footsteps as soft as a whisper, Rumi walked onto the carpeted floor, her target a feet away from her. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword, thighs ready, eyes narrowed at the demon in front and imagining his impending doom.
Her feet knock against a potted plant and it topples over, breaking the taunt of concentration between her brows and the demon's lone suffering.
Ah, shoot.
She ducked before the demon's claws raked through the air where her head had been seconds ago.
Rumi dodged another kick at her ribs, angling her foot to topple the demon forward. She missed, and would've fallen face first on the floor if it weren't for her fantastic reflexes. She was on her feet in seconds, but the demon didn't give her time to breathe before he was on her again. Strike after strike, she dodged his blows, skirting around the room till she reached the edge. The demon in front of her huffed, his face morphing into its true form: red with orange boils across her skin, black bottomless eyes and several deformities on its body.
“No wonder you had to take up a human form. That face is going to pull no girl,”
The demon growled, then showed off his fangs with his lucid smile.
“I actually spent months trying to get her. I didn't know human courtship took this long,”
“Oh, human courtship? Don't tell me you demons date too?”
“We don't,” he said, circling around her peripheral. “That's why I was intrigued. As to why humans do this,”
Rumi held onto her blade tighter, her senses sharpened. The demon's hooves tapped against the floor every time he walked, akin to the ticking of a clock. Any moment now, the clock would strike twelve and he would pounce.
“Unlike you demons…” Rumi began as the demon reached behind her, “we humans crave company. And love. But that would be such a foreign concept to you, won't it?”
“Must be what makes you so weak,” he said and striked at the same time, claws raking the air and leaving heat in its wake.
Rumi blocked its jab with her blade holding it horizontal, pushing him back. The demon sneered at her, putting his weight against her sword that made her stumble back.
“Revolting, is what this all is,” the demon's stale whisper washed over her. “A charade. Dance around the same person for the rest of eternity? Promise till death do us apart? Listen to cringe songs about love over the radio during your late night long drives? What a joke”
“I don't agree with the last part either. Must be torture, right?” Rumi bit out. Her back hit the wall, shoulder blades being pushed into the hard concrete. The wall to her back was covered from the ceiling of the floor with sticky notes and polaroid pictures. How homely.
The demon's face got closer. “It is torture when it's your songs that play, hunter.”
Oh, so a demon with a personal grudge. Many of these have been showing up around the city since the hunters beat their king to a pulp. Demons only loyal to Gwi-Ma, hungry and starving for revenge.
Rumi seemed to sink further back when the demon's voice bordered on a growl. “That girl wants to listen to nothing but the HUNTRIX. HUNTRIX this, HUNTRIX that, Rumi Mira Zoey blah blah blah blah.”
Their songs weren't that bad to the demons, were they? She doesn't know, they mostly never asked demons for creative criticism before they killed them.
Only the last time she did…
I can't wait to see you on stage tomorrow.
Does that mean that he liked her songs, or was that one of his stupid lies?
It wasn't.
It was.
It wasn't. Your song gives people hope, Rumi.
The demon was still talking.
“And I hate when she does that, it's like you guys are the only Kpop band in the world. I mean like, what about TWICE? They're good too. But noooo, all she has on her phone are your bloody songs, and Justin Bieber. And I'd rather burn in Gwi-Ma’s wrathful fire than hear Despacito one more time—”
Hit him. That voice chided in her head.
Now's your chance. Hit him now, Rumi.
“And I really get it, like I know you guys are sooo hot, sooo pretty and sooo talented, but like, there has to be another artist apart from you, right? Because all this girl plays in her car is we're going up, up, up it's our moment—”
Rumi kicked him right in the middle of his stomach, sending the demon reeling back. She pointed her sword at his neck, finally free from the confines of the wall and his disgusting presence. “Don't you dare taint our songs by singing them in your disgusting ass voice—”
“Is it really my fault if it's stuck inside my head?! I swear to Gwi-Ma—”
“SunHee!” A high-pitched feminine voice called out from the kitchen. “Do you know where I kept that HUNTRIX special Zoey flavoured rameyeon?”
“Uhh…” the demon began, then cleared his throat and when he spoke, his voice sounded completely different. Humane, clear. “It's on the right shelf next to the fridge!”
Taking her chance, Rumi swung her blade at his head. He managed to dodge and then tried clawing at her, but she twisted away and caught his wrist, pulling him forward.
“Oh! Found it! Thank you, honey!”
“No problem babe!” He answered back while he struggled to get out of the headlock Rumi put him in.
“Now where is the kettle…”
“Check the upper cabinet!” he wheezed out as Rumi pinned him down. She held his wrist behind his back in a vice grip, the edge of her sword at his neck.
“Aha! Thank you, SunHee!”
Infiltrating the human world, airports, entertainment industry, and now families? These demons didn't know when to stop.
Rumi's blade was about to pierce the demon's neck when her eyes caught onto a bright glint in his finger.
“You're married?” She whispered out, her voice stark with disbelief.
“Engaged,” he coughed, trying to wriggle out from underneath her. “You don't want to be the reason for a girl's heart break, do you now, hunter?”
Instead of sucking this girl's soul at the first chance he got, this demon lured her far enough to tie her life to him. The band of gold around the demon's ugly, weblike fingers sparkled subtly in the moonlight. How much misery can these creatures feed on? Rumi pressed her blade to his throat.
“Since you're going to die anyway,” she grunted as she dug her foot on the ground beside his withering form. “At least do some good deeds before you go.”
“What makes you think—” his voice was cut when Rumi moved her sword up to his chin.
“Where is Gwi-Ma now? I know for one that he isn't dead. If you lie, I'll kill you.”
The demon beneath her withered and heaved for air. “In the underworld, I guess? How would I—”
“What is he doing? What are all of you plotting? You demons aren't just gonna quiet down after this, would you?”
“I don't know! I swear I don't! I haven't been down there in ages!”
Twisting his head around to look at her narrowed eyes, suspicion leaking off from him, he decided to stoop down to pleading.
“Please. I'm not lying. I really don't know. Gwi-Ma sent me out here instead of giving me a punishment of eternal suffering like the ones that mess up. He thought sending me here would be enough punishment,”
Before Rumi could make sense of what that meant, another voice cut through the air.
“SunHee! Rameyeon’s ready!”
Ah, right. The girl. She completely forgot about the demon's said human fiancee. Rumi must've run out of luck because the moment she released her pressure on the demon, it disappeared into a puff of purple smoke.
Damnit.
“SunHee! Are you listening? I said we should continue watching the movie later, it's getting so late right now—”
The girl paused at the threshold, two cups of steaming cups of ramenyeon in both hands and chopsticks on top of the lid. SunHee was nowhere to be seen. The living room looked like a clutter of random things, an unturned potted plant, spilled coffee on the carpet, fallen cushions. It was empty, with nothing but a fluttering note with a quickly scrawled message that said ‘Im sorry’
And of course, she didn't know what to make out of it.
___________
When Rumi landed back on her balcony, she was in a mood worse than what she left in. At least Derpy was still here to comfort her. The bird nipped gently at her ear in hopes of lifting up her mood, which was sweet because Sussie wasn't the most affectionate bird she'd met. Still, she opened the door to her room and all but fell onto the mattress, so tired that she didn't even forgo jeans for pyjamas.
She might've fallen asleep with her guilt of causing a break up (even if the demon was just trying to suck the innocent girl's soul) that when she opened her eyes, it was almost morning. The sun's rays peaked out shyly from below the horizon, but apart from the golden glow at the skyline, most of it was dark. It must've been at least five in the morning now. Rumi and her girls would've been up an hour ago for their early morning workout session, but one of the biggest perks of a hiatus was extra sleep time. Groggily rubbing her eyes, the events of the night before flashed in her mind, souring her mood again. She didn't need to wake up right now, right? She could sleep for an hour more, then go out to jog…
Derpy and Sussie were gone to wherever demonic animals go when she wasn't around, and the only light in her room came from the city lights beyond her glass window and a familiar glow of blue next to her closet.
Her weapon, brand new, upgraded, stood glumly against the beige walls, glowing subtly in the dark room, the swirl of pink deepening into a purple at random intervals. She stared back at it, feeling tremors run down her skin. Ever since he was gone, Rumi couldn't find the strength to look at her sword straight.
There was something about her blade now that just reminded her of him. Maybe it was the heaviness of the blade, or the random inscriptions on the golden hilt. Patterns at the edges that were only visible at night, a yellow gleam sometimes when Rumi wasn't looking. All of it seemed so familiar that it made her heart ache, cracking the walls down until all that was left of it was the softness she tried so hard to conceal. All these years, put to waste. Sometimes she would catch herself looking at it unknowingly, and when she'd tear her eyes off it, the pain of losing him would fill her heart all over again.
It's over, she had told herself. You only knew him for a few months. Nothing is going to change.
But it did.
Didn't it?
She looked at the sword as if to ask it that question. The sword stared dumbly back at her.
Rumi scoffed.
“I'm so so stupid,” she said out loud in the silence.
“No, you aren't,” the voice, that voice again, said back.
“Yes, yes I am,” she said, smiling to herself. The wind outside picked up pace, finding its way inside through the gap in the sliding doors, whistling.
“You're smart. You're actually the smartest girl I've ever seen. You led your group and brought it to the top. You can't be stupid and do that,”
“I got tricked by a demon and almost lost everything. And then I lost him even though all I wanted to do was save him. And now I'm mourning over his death.”
“Sounds harsh.”
“It is,” she answered back. The room turned eerily silent. Thinking she had had enough, Rumi turned her back to it and flopped onto the mattress.
“Goodnight, Jinu.” She talked to herself, the sword, the room, who knew? All she knew was she did this every night, wishing the walls hoping they'd take it to him, wherever he was right now.
“Goodnight, Rumi,”
Rumi sighed into her pillow and closed her eyes.
Hold up a second.
She did this every night, but she never got an answer back. She wasn't supposed to get an answer back.
Rumi's eyes shot open. She slowly, ever so slowly, turned her head around. The sword. There it was. Still against the wall. Same as she saw it before she closed her eyes. Her mouth opened, and then closed again.
“Did you just talk?”
“Hiiii.”
She left out a scream that her vocal coaches would definitely disapprove of and fell down the side of her bed. Her head popped up over the bed a second later, hands gripping the sheets and she pulled herself up.
“What the fuck?” She whispered out in the darkness, and the blade seemed to glow lighter.
“Uh-uh. Mind your language. Your PR wouldn't approve of that. Nor will your fans. Since you're known for making family friendly content—ouch!”
The sword bit out a curse when Rumi threw a rubix cube at it. It hit the glinting blade and then bounced off it.
“Ouch,” the sword said again. “Don't do that! It actually hurts if you throw things at me! What do you think I am, an inanimate object?”
“That's what you're supposed to be!” She shouted at it. She was shouting at a weapon. “Who are you?”
“You don't remember me? It's me!”
“Who’s this me? I don't know you!”
“Lies, all lies. I gave up my soul for you—”
“Jinu?”
The room turned silent again. The sword glowed pink, yellow, then back to blue. The patterns on the blade sharpened.
“Hiiii.” It said again and this time, Rumi looked around for something to throw that would inflict some real damage at it.
“Rumi,” the voice gave out a warning as she started to unplug her Flatscreen TV from the wall. “I thought you'd be happy to see me. Or hear me.”
“You aren't supposed to be talking!” She shot out acidicly, failing to retrieve the plug from its socket. Why is she trying to haul a TV set on it when she could just fling her sword at the set easily? Or better, she should throw it out of the window. Yeah, that's right.
“Aren't you—Rumi?” The sword asked, quieter now.
Her hands stilled on the TV cord.
The way it said her name.
Not the bright, public version. Not the one stretched wide and sweet for interviews and crowds and cameras. It said it like it belonged in the dark. Like it had always belonged there.
She swallowed.
“…Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Talking like you know me.”
A pause.
Then, softer, almost careful, “I do know you.”
Her fingers curled tighter around the plastic cord until they hurt.
“No,” she said. “You don’t.”
The sword didn’t argue. The glow along its edge dimmed, settling into something faint and uncertain.
She stared at it from across the room like it might move. Like it might get up and walk toward her on its own.
It didn’t.
But she could feel it. A presence. Waiting. Watching.
The silence that followed was worse.
She stared at it. The familiar curve of the blade. The worn grip. The faint patterns she’d traced a thousand times without thinking.
Her sword.
His sword.
Her throat burned.
The glow along the blade pulsed once.
Soft. Warm.
Like a heartbeat.
She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t
reach for it.
But she didn’t throw it away either.
And somehow, that felt like the most dangerous thing of all.