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Night had settled over the Hunter’s compound on Jeju. Training had ended hours ago, the last of the practice weapons returned to storage, the practice grounds emptied except for the faint scuff marks left in the dirt. A few lanterns traced the stone walkways between the main house and the smaller outbuildings. Beyond the property, the ocean could be heard faintly when the breeze shifted, steady and distant.
The compound itself was quiet and peaceful. It was a place meant for habitation as much as it was for training, with wide lawns, low buildings spaced apart, trees planted centuries earlier now tall enough to cast long shadows across the grounds. During the day it carried the rhythm of drills, study, and supervision.
Tonight, it simply breathed.
Celine was away in Seoul for the weekend, pulled back by company matters she had described, with visible displeasure, as “unavoidable.” Before leaving, she had repeated the same instructions twice: finish your assigned conditioning, don’t neglect your reading, and absolutely do not experiment with anything you aren’t trained for.
She had paused at the door, gaze sharpening briefly.
“And try,” she added, folding her arms, “to make decisions I won’t regret hearing about later. I would prefer not to return to chaos.”
Zoey had immediately lifted a hand. “Could you define chaos.”
Celine had looked at her for a long moment. “If you have to ask, you are already too close to it.”
Mira had muttered, “So we’re doomed then.”
Celine, for her own sanity, ignored that entirely.
Then she was gone.
Her absence did not turn the compound wild, rather, it just softened the atmosphere. The usual sense of being observed had lifted, leaving a sense of freedom behind for the teenagers.
Near midnight, one room remained lit in the main residence.
Rumi’s room had gradually become their unofficial gathering place. It was slightly larger than the others, with enough floor space to spread out after their long training days. Clothes hung over the back of a chair, a pair of slippers abandoned near the door. A wooden training blade leaned against the wall beside her desk. The window was cracked open to let in the cool night air.
Zoey lay stretched across the floor on her stomach, kicking her ankles idly as she shuffled a deck of cards. Every few seconds she bent one backward until it snapped straight again.
Mira sat with her back against the side of the bed, with one knee raised, posture loose but still seemingly alert.
Rumi occupied the centre of the mattress, with the blanket gathered around her legs due to the mild temperature. A book rested open near her, having been forgotten a while ago.
None of them were tired.
They were dealing with the unfamiliar freedom of a rare unscheduled weekend, with no conditioning looming ahead right at dawn, no immediate demands for training from Celine, just hours with nothing required of them.
Zoey dropped the cards beside her and exhaled loudly.
After a moment, Mira leaned sideways and reached beneath her bed.
“I’m bored.”
Mira glanced down at her. “We just finished playing cards.”
“And now I’m sat here bored,” Zoey replied.
Rumi smiled faintly.
After a stretch of quiet, Mira pushed herself to her feet without explanation.
Rumi watched her cross the room. “Where are you going.”
“I’ll be back,” Mira replied shortly, already slipping out the door before either of them could press further.
Rumi tilted her head toward the hallway, listening to Mira’s footsteps fade across the floorboards. A minute passed. Then another.
Zoey sat up and scooted backward until her shoulders bumped the side of the bed. “She’s either doing something illegal,” she said, lowering her voice, “or reckless.”
Rumi sat up and closed her book fully, curiosity winning out. “Those aren’t mutually exclusive with her you know.”
“Honestly,” Zoey added, “if she comes back dragging a demon, I’m blaming you for not stopping her unnie.”
The door opened as Mira stepped inside like nothing had happened, but there was a faint coolness clinging to her sleeves from the night air. In one hand she carried a small canvas tote that definitely had not been there earlier.
She shut the door with her foot.
Zoey’s eyes narrowed immediately. “What is that.”
Mira set the bag on the floor, crouched, and reached inside.
Rumi straightened.
“Mira.”
Mira pulled out a green bottle and held it upright.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Zoey inhaled sharply. “…Is that soju?”
Mira rotated the bottle once, the label unreadable. “Maybe.”
“You left the compound, but how, you were barely gone a few minutes,” Rumi asked quietly, unable to piece it together.
“I didn’t have to,” Mira replied. “There are so many places on this property to hide stuff, even from Celine.”
Zoey slid off the bed, drawn toward it. “You have a secret hiding place?”
Mira twisted the cap loose with a soft crack. “Places,” she corrected. “I have quite a few.”
Rumi stared at the bottle like it might become a demon if she blinked.
“Mira,” she said again, slower this time.
“It’s just soju,” Mira answered calmly, as if she had brought back juice instead of contraband. “Relax.”
Zoey leaned closer, peering at the label like she didn’t quite trust her own eyes.
“You smuggled alcohol behind Celine’s back,” she said slowly, then looked up, impressed. “I underestimated you.”
Rumi stared at the bottle, processing several thoughts at once. “If Celine finds out-”
“She won’t,” Mira cut in calmly. “She’s in Seoul. As long as we don’t cause an emergency, or somehow break the Honmoon, she’ll never know.”
“That is not reassuring,” Rumi said.
Zoey grabbed the bottle and held it up to the light. “What if something catches fire.”
Mira shrugged. “Suppose we just have to hope that we’re sober enough to deal with it.”
Zoey grinned. “I like your risk management strategy.”
Rumi pressed her lips together, but curiosity… and something looser, something restless… was beginning to creep in.
====================
Mira disappeared again, heading to the kitchen and returning with three shot glasses.
She took the bottle and poured it, and soon clear liquid had filled each one.
Zoey picked hers up immediately, sniffed it, recoiled, then sniffed it again. “Wow. That smells so strong, but kinda fruity.”
“That,” Mira said, handing a cup to Rumi, “is because it is.”
Rumi accepted it carefully, holding it with both hands.
“I’ve never actually…” Rumi trailed off, turning the small glass slowly between her fingers. “Is it supposed to smell like that.”
Zoey blinked at her. “Wait. Never?”
Rumi shook her head once.
Mira opened her mouth automatically, ready with something reassuring, then stopped.
“…Me neither,” she admitted after a beat, her voice quieter than usual.
Zoey’s head snapped toward her. “You snuck alcohol into the compound and this is your first time drinking?”
Mira shrugged her shoulders. “Being confident is ninety percent attitude and faith.”
Zoey stared at her, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “Unreal, I thought at least one of us knew what we were doing.”
She looked down at her own glass.
“…Also never drank before by the way.”
The three of them sat there for a second, the realization settling, not one of them had any idea what this was going to be like.
Mira cleared her throat, straightening slightly as if reclaiming the authority she absolutely did not have. “Alright. Then we can do it together.”
Rumi looked from one to the other, something small and nervous loosening in her chest.
“No backing out?” Zoey asked.
Mira lifted her glass. “Backing out is for people who aren’t training to be demon hunters.”
Rumi let out a soft breath that almost resembled a laugh.
“…Then if we’re making a terrible decision,” she said, raising her glass too, “we might as well all be equally guilty.”
Zoey clinked hers against theirs immediately. “To terrible decisions.”
Mira smirked faintly. “And excellent stories later.”
They drank.
Zoey coughed first, eyes watering. Mira squeezed her eyes shut but forced it down out of stubborn pride. Rumi froze halfway through swallowing, clearly reconsidering every life choice that had led her here.
Mira exhaled sharply. “…That is significantly worse than I expected.”
Zoey wheezed. “Why do people drink this for fun, where’s the fun.”
Rumi pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, blinking rapidly. “It burns so much. Is it supposed to do that.”
“Yes,” Mira rasped. “I think that means it’s working.”
They didn’t stop at one.
Mira poured again, a little less confidently this time, the liquid sloshing closer to the rim. Zoey watched with exaggerated seriousness, like she was overseeing a delicate operation, before bracing herself, inhaled, and threw it back.
A mistake.
She bent forward immediately, coughing into her sleeve. “How is it worse the second time,” she croaked.
Mira wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, refusing to show weakness even as her eyes watered again. “You’re thinking too much. Just… override your brain.”
Rumi swallowed carefully, shoulders tightening as the warmth spread down her throat and settled somewhere deep in her chest. It was unpleasant for about three seconds, then strangely steadying.
Her fingers felt lighter.
Her thoughts… softer at the edges.
“I don’t know, it felt easier that time,” she admitted quietly.
Mira blinked slowly. “Why do my ears feel warm.”
Rumi sat very still, processing. “I think… my head feels lighter.”
They stared at each other.
Then Zoey laughed. It started small, then tipped into something louder, harder to control. Mira tried to glare at her, failed, and ended up laughing too. Rumi covered her mouth with both hands, shoulders shaking as she giggled.
The bottle didn’t last long after that.
Zoey had migrated fully to be near the bed, with her legs stretched out. Mira sat cross-legged beside her, posture still deceptively straight despite the growing flush across her cheeks. Rumi had loosened up her posture, moving to be perched near the edge of her mattress, her shoulders no longer so carefully held, her braid slipping forward onto Mira as she laughed under her breath at something Zoey had just said.
Zoey tipped the bottle upside down experimentally.
Nothing came out.
They had finished it.
Zoey fell forward onto the rug and stared at the floor.
“…I understand nothing,” she announced. “Why do people do this for fun. Where’s the relaxy-time?”
Mira snorted. “Maybe it gets better.”
“It better,” Zoey muttered.
Rumi let out a soft laugh. “You’re both very loud.”
“For the record,” Zoey added, “you’re loud too.”
For a moment, they simply existed in the quiet aftermath, the three teenagers tipped off their usual balance.
Mira sat up.
“Hold on,” she said, her voice carrying the confidence brought by alcohol.
Before either of them could ask, she crossed to the closet, shoved aside a stack of folded training clothes, and reached toward the very back corner. Her fingers disappeared behind a storage bin.
Glass clinked.
Zoey’s head lifted immediately. “No way.”
Mira straightened and turned around with two more green bottles dangling from her fingers.
Rumi blinked slowly. “How many hiding spots do you have… and why my closet?”
“No one would ever check there,” Mira replied.
Zoey crawled forward on her knees and accepted one like it was being formally presented to her. “I’m suddenly even more impressed with you.”
Within minutes, fresh glasses were poured.
Zoey wiped her mouth and looked between them, energy sparking again.
“Okay. New plan.”
Mira eyed her cautiously. “That sentence never ends well.”
Zoey grabbed the empty bottle from earlier and planted it between them.
“We can play spin the bottle,” she declared. “Kinda.”
Rumi tilted her head. “…Kinda how.”
“We’ll play truth or dare,” Zoey said, spinning the bottle lazily with her fingertips. “Or drink if you refuse.”
Mira considered it for exactly one second. “Fine.”
Rumi hesitated only a fraction longer before nodding.
Zoey beamed.
The first few rounds were harmless.
Mira got dared to attempt a dramatic runway walk across the length of the room. She fully committed, then nearly tripped on the rug, and refused to acknowledge it happened.
“That didn’t happen,” Mira said.
“It absolutely did,” Zoey and Rumi wheezed.
Zoey was forced to text one of the trainers at the label something cryptic and immediately panic until Mira confiscated her phone before she could send a follow-up apology.
Rumi, red-faced but smiling, admitted during one truth that she still slept with the small stuffed tiger she’d owned since childhood.
Zoey clutched her chest. “You are devastatingly adorable.”
“Stop saying that,” Rumi protested weakly.
“Never.”
Rumi tried, and failed, to look offended.
The second bottle dipped lower.
====================
Soon they were too drunk to do any dares, and the truth questions drifted closer to deeper things without any of them quite noticing when the shift happened.
Zoey spun again.
The bottle slowed.
Pointed back at her.
Mira grinned. “Truth?”
Zoey groaned. “At least let me pretend to consider dare.”
Mira leaned forward, resting her chin on her fist.
“What’s something that’s been stuck in your head lately.”
Zoey opened her mouth with something flippant ready, then stopped.
Her fingers curled loosely around her glass.
“…When Celine was teaching us last week,” she said slowly, “about Gwi-ma.”
Rumi’s smile faded just slightly.
Zoey stared down at the floor as she spoke.
“She said humans can become demons if they make a deal with him. That if someone gets desperate enough...” Her voice grew quieter. “I can’t stop thinking about that.”
The room stilled.
“It scares me,” Zoey admitted. “That someone could suffer so much… that becoming a demon would feel acceptable.”
Mira didn’t interrupt.
Neither did Rumi.
Zoey exhaled softly. “Like… what does a person have to lose to say yes to something like that.”
The bottle sat forgotten between them.
After a moment, Mira reached for it and spun, almost absentmindedly.
It pointed at no one in particular, wobbling between all three.
“…Hypothetically,” Mira said, gaze drifting, “if we weren’t hunters… what do you think it would take for us.”
Zoey huffed a quiet breath.
“My family, probably,” Zoey said quietly. “If I’d not been able to escape to here, to you, and if I learned that there was a way to stop the fighting, to make it make sense, to take the pain away.” She swallowed. “If a deal meant things could go back to how they were… I’d be tempted.”
Mira hummed in agreement, staring at nothing.
“Yeah,” she said. “Mine too. Different reasons, but… yeah.”
“My oh so loving family,” she continued, voice lower, more controlled. “If I didn’t have you two, and if I’d learned of a way to rewrite where I came from… to erase the parts that I don’t want to have… I’d probably be more tempted than I think I could be.”
Silence gathered again.
Then both of them looked at Rumi.
Rumi blinked, clearly slower now, thoughts softened by alcohol.
She traced the rim of her glass with one finger.
“…Maybe,” she said carefully, “if Gwi-ma could bring back my mom.”
Then, softer but more certain, “You know what… I know he could bring my dad back. So, maybe my mom isn’t out of the question.”
For a moment, neither Zoey nor Mira spoke.
Mira frowned first.
“…What do you mean you know,” she asked carefully.
Zoey blinked hard, trying to follow the logic through the soft haze in her head. “Yeah,” she said, voice tightening. “How could you possibly be certain.”
Rumi looked between them, unaware of the direction their thoughts were already sprinting.
“Well,” she started vaguely, still clutching the bottle, “since deals can offer people anything-”
Zoey’s face went pale.
“Oh my god.”
Mira turned sharply toward her. “What.”
Zoey’s breathing picked up, her glass forgotten in her hand.
“Her dad,” Zoey whispered, horror dawning on her face. “He must’ve made a deal.”
Rumi blinked confused.
Zoey’s eyes glossed over almost immediately.
“To save Rumi,” she continued, voice breaking. “After her mom died… he probably traded himself and now he’s- he’s stuck there-”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“In the demon realm.”
“Zoey…” Mira said, but her own voice had gone unsteady.
The image formed quickly in their minds, too quickly, and once it did, it refused to let go.
A father, desperate, grieving. Bargaining everything he had for everything that mattered.
Becoming something else.
For his child.
Mira’s throat tightened.
“…That tracks,” she murmured, the alcohol loosening the emotions she normally kept locked down. “A good parent would make a deal to save their kid, their own soul be damned.”
Zoey made a small, wounded sound as she looked back at Rumi.
“That’s so unfair,” she whispered. “You already lost your mom and now your dad too and you’re just, you’re talking about it so casually-”
A tear slipped free.
Then another.
Mira scrubbed at her own eyes angrily, but the sting was already there.
“Damn it,” she muttered. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier.”
Rumi stared at them.
Completely frozen.
Her brain lagged behind the scene unfolding in front of her, Zoey crying, Mira’s eyes shining, and when understanding finally slammed into place, panic followed immediately.
“No- no, no,” Rumi said quickly, scrambling toward them on her knees.
She grabbed Zoey’s wrist first.
“Don’t cry,” she said, voice rising with alarm. “Please don’t cry.”
Zoey looked up at her, devastated. “Rumi…”
“It’s okay!” Rumi insisted, words tumbling over each other. “He’s fine! He’s always been fine!”
Mira sniffed hard. “…What.”
Rumi shook her head rapidly.
“My dad’s been a demon from before he even met my mom,” she said in a rush. “That’s what Celine told me. So, it’s not- he didn’t turn into one later or anything- it’s just- he already was-”
The words spilled out faster than she could stop them but the moment Celine’s name left her mouth, the haze broke.
Rumi heard herself.
Understood what she had just revealed.
Her lips parted, but no sound followed.
Horror crept in slowly, then all at once. Her fingers tightened around the bottle before she carefully set it down like sudden movement might make everything worse.
====================
The silence was deafening.
Zoey blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“…He’s always been a demon,” she repeated faintly.
Rumi didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Mira’s brows drew together first, her thoughts visibly threading the pieces into place. She didn’t speak right away, and when she finally did, her voice was careful, delicate.
“…Rumi,” she asked quietly, “what does that mean? Does that make you… like a half-demon?”
The words hung there.
Half-demon.
Rumi’s breath stopped.
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. Her shoulders folded inward, spine curling wishing she could physically compress herself smaller. Her hands pulled close to her chest. Her gaze dropped to the floor.
Her instincts screaming to hide, to not look dangerous, to not take up space. Don’t give them a reason to be afraid.
The room blurred at the edges.
She didn’t even realize she had stopped breathing normally until her chest began to ache.
Zoey realized the meaning immediately.
Rumi’s posture triggered something deep in her memory, a recognition so sharp it hurt. School hallways, voices telling her to go back where she came from. The way she had learned to fold into herself, to shrink, to survive unwanted attention by hiding from it.
Her expression changed at once.
She moved without hesitation.
“Hey,” Zoey whispered, voice soft enough that it barely disturbed the air.
She slid closer and gently took Rumi by the wrists, slow and deliberate so she wouldn’t startle her.
“You’re okay,” Zoey murmured.
Carefully, she guided Rumi sideways until Rumi’s weight settled into her lap. One arm wrapped securely around her shoulders, the other resting warm against her legs.
Rumi resisted for half a second, not consciously, just that last reflex to retreat, then melted into the hold, tucking her head into the crook of Zoey’s neck, seeking comfort.
Zoey lowered her voice further, words turning instinctive.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered. “Nothing’s changed. You’re still you. You’re safe.”
Mira moved in immediately after, pressing close and wrapping both of them in her arms from the side. One hand came up to cradle the back of Rumi’s head, fingers threading gently through her hair.
“It’s okay,” Mira said, steady and grounding. “Everything is okay.”
Rumi’s eyes burned.
She hadn’t realized how truly terrified she was of losing them until they didn’t pull away.
Zoey’s thumb traced slow, absent circles against her arm.
“We’re not scared of you,” Zoey whispered.
“Not even a little,” Mira added quietly.
Rumi let out a thin, shaking breath.
“You should hate me,” she managed, voice small.
Mira tightened her hold just slightly.
“Rumi,” she said, firm now, “look at me.”
After a moment, Rumi did.
Mira’s expression held nothing but love and comfort.
“How could we ever hate you,” Mira said softly. “You’re the person who’s always been there for us, ever since we started here, you’ve always been there.”
Zoey nodded against her shoulder. “Hatred would the opposite-”
She stopped herself, but the meaning lingered anyway.
Rumi’s throat tightened.
The tension in her body loosened by a fraction.
Zoey rested her head lightly against Rumi’s.
“You don’t have to make yourself smaller,” she murmured. “Not with us.”
Mira brushed her thumb once across Rumi’s temple.
“You never have to worry about us leaving.”
The words sank in slowly, pushing through years of doubts.
Rumi swallowed.
Her hands, still curled near her chest, hesitated, then reached outward instead.
She clutched their sleeves, holding on, and neither of them let go.
====================
Rumi’s breathing had steadied, but the quiet still felt fragile, like one wrong word might crack it again.
For a long moment she just sat there between them, Mira’s arm firm around her shoulders, Zoey’s hand still rubbing slow circles against her back.
Then something shifted in her expression as she made a decision.
“…There’s something I should show you,” she said quietly.
Before either of them could respond, she pulled back just enough to reach for the hem of her training top. Her hands trembled, from the alcohol, from nerves, from the weight of finally not hiding, but she lifted the fabric anyway, sliding it off over her head.
Cool air brushed her skin.
The purple patterns along her upper arm caught the soft light of the room, subtle but unmistakable, winding lines that spread along her arm to her chest.
Zoey forgot how to blink.
Mira leaned in slightly without realizing it, eyes tracing the lines with open fascination.
They weren’t grotesque.
They weren’t frightening.
They were… beautiful.
Complex. Intricate. Like ink drawn by an impossibly steady hand.
“Do they hurt?” Mira asked softly.
Rumi shook her head. “No. They’re just… there.”
Zoey let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “They look beautiful on you,” she said, her voice warm with quiet certainty.
Rumi’s eyes flickered up, startled.
“Beautiful?”
Mira nodded. “They look pretty,” she said simply. “Like you.”
The last knot inside Rumi loosened.
Emotions rushed up too quickly for her to manage them properly. The alcohol wasn’t helping, having stripped away the careful layers she normally kept between her true feelings and the world.
Before she could overthink it, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Zoey.
Zoey made a small sound of surprise, then hugged her back immediately, one hand sliding up between Rumi’s shoulder blades, holding her there like she belonged.
“Thank you,” Rumi whispered, her voice unsteady but certain.
Zoey pulled back just enough to look at her. Up close, Rumi’s eyes were glassy, her cheeks warm, the patterns along her arm catching the low light. There was nothing guarded about her now.
“Hey,” Zoey said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Rumi’s ear. “You never have to thank us for accepting all of you.”
Something in Rumi’s expression broke open completely at that.
The emotions she was feeling were too big, too immediate to contain, and before her thoughts could catch up, she leaned forward and kissed Zoey.
It was warm and a little clumsy, guided more by feeling than intention.
Zoey froze for half a heartbeat, then melted into it, her hand coming up to cradle the side of Rumi’s face as she kissed her back.
When they parted, the air felt different.
Mira had gone very still beside them.
Rumi turned, saw Mira’s face, and panic flickered across her features.
“Oh-” she breathed, already moving.
She leaned toward Mira and kissed her too, softer but just as real, her fingers catching lightly in the fabric of Mira’s top like she needed something steady to hold onto.
Mira inhaled sharply, surprise flashing across her face before it softened. Her hand came up automatically, resting on the back of Rumi’s head as she returned the kiss.
When Rumi pulled back this time, she looked between them, wide-eyed.
“…Well,” she said faintly, logic clearly struggling to function through alcohol and emotion, “now you two have to kiss.”
Zoey let out a quiet, breathless laugh.
Mira huffed once under her breath, but there was no resistance in it.
They met each other’s gaze, a silent question, a silent answer, and then Zoey leaned in first.
Their kiss started hesitant, almost cautious, but neither pulled away. Mira’s fingers curled lightly around Zoey’s waist, as Zoey brushed her thumb along Mira’s jaw without thinking.
It lasted only a few seconds.
When they separated, all three of them just stared at each other, stunned, a little flushed, very aware that something had shifted between them.
Then Zoey laughed softly, the sound shaky but bright.
“…Okay,” she murmured. “So, tonight is apparently just full of surprises.”
Mira glanced at Rumi, then back at Zoey, a small smile forming despite herself.
“Seems that way.”
Rumi pressed her hands to her face, overwhelmed but smiling too.
The fear that had filled the room earlier felt impossibly far away now, replaced by warmth, by closeness, by the quiet certainty that none of them were facing anything alone.
Mira was the first to move, tugging the blanket down from the bed and wrapping it loosely around all three of them.
“Come here,” she said gently.
They settled together without awkwardness this time, Zoey’s legs half draped across them, Rumi tucked between their shoulders, Mira anchoring them both with an arm around their backs.
No one mentioned the kisses again.
They didn’t need to.
Zoey traced idle shapes along Rumi’s arm, careful around the patterns but not avoiding them.
“You know,” she murmured sleepily, “half-demon or not… you’re still ours.”
Mira nodded once. “Nothing about you makes us want to step away.”
Rumi swallowed, emotion rising again, softer now, easier.
“I’m really glad it’s you two,” she whispered.
Zoey smiled without opening her eyes. “Good, because we’re not going anywhere.”
Mira squeezed their shoulders lightly.
“You better get used to this.”
Rumi happily would.
And as the compound lay quiet around them, the three young hunters drifted toward sleep tangled together beneath the blanket, the night no longer heavy with secrets, only warm with something new they had chosen without even realizing it.