And the time came when Hades poured out

by NKret

Summary:

Honmoon had always called to Rumi. A quiet song wrapping around her like a soft blankiet. It called her, whispering sweet words of promises, so different from the roar of purple flames. But how could she turn against those who had accepted her? She could hear its sorrow, the desperate pull had never been stronger. It called, and called, and called—but she knew answering that call would only lead to her death. So why did the executioner’s blade taste so sweet?

Or, Rumi is raised in the Demon Realm

Notes:

I saw the movie, I liked it, and now my brain refuses to move on.

No idea how often this will update. I’ve got a rough outline for the whole story, but the chapters will show up whenever they feel like it.

Chapter 1

Rumi clearly remembers the day she first heard the word mom. It was the same day she first visited the human world and saw such a strange sky. A sky the color of tiger’s fur, but without the black stripes.

How strange.

Rumi took a moment to remember the word.

Blue.

That sky was blue. 

She couldn't understand it. It was so beautiful, clear, and calm. Completely unlike the sky in The Realm illuminated by the presence of the King Gwi-Ma. That one was red, eternally covered in heavy, dark clouds, as if they could tumble down upon the world at any moment. Did the king of this kingdom light the sky in a different color?

She turned around, ready to ask Jinu about it, but he wasn’t there. She curled her lips in disappointment.

Jinu would know. He always knew everything. He had lived much longer than Rumi and had seen many strange things. He must have been the wisest of all demons—even wiser than the King.

As soon as the thought entered her little head, Rumi shifted uncomfortably in place. Jinu had said that the King knows every thought of every demon and doesn’t like it when he’s thought of badly. She looked around, but there was no trace of King's purple light. Only that beautiful blue sky.

Blue sky, white clouds and tall things growing out of the ground.

She had never seen anything like them in The Realm. They weren’t as massive as the jagged mountains, and they rustled gently in the breeze of warm wind. They moved sideways like demons climbing the stairs of a great palace to meet the wrath of the King. But those demons reeked of fear. A horrible, sour stench that clung to the nose and refused to fade. It was always accompanied by a cry of despair and the roar of the King's bright flames. Rumi didn't like it, but she never said anything. In The Realm, weakness could never be shown. Weakness meant death. She knew that perfectly well. Jinu had taught her.

There was no fear here. Rumi didn’t know the word for this feeling, but she liked it far more than the bloodlust of an execution. Not entirely calm, but it was… nice.

She looked over her shoulder again, but she found no trace of the purple flames.

She took a breath and made a timid step forward, then another, and another.

She giggled.

The strange growth on the ground was soft and tickled her bare feet. Honmoon's blue lines seemed to shimmer and ripple like water.

Honmoon was different here too. In The Realm, it rose high in the sky like a sinister cage.  Here, it cloaked the earth and hummed. It sang even more beautifully than Jinu. As Rumi stepped forward, it moved and wrapped around her like a soft blanket. She reached out her tiny hand and ran her fingers across the rough surface of one of the massive growths. And Honmoon responded. Its threads quivered and curled around her.

You are mine. I will love you, love you, and love you forever, seemed to say, and Rumi thought that if it could smile, its smile would be just as lovely as Jinu’s.

Why did the others dislike Honmoon so much? It was nice, after all.

Then she remembered that Jinu was also nice, but some demons didn't like him.

 

”Stay away from Advisors,” he said, gazing gloomily toward the palace where the most terrifying demons sat beside the King. It wasn’t the first time Jinu had set out to collect new souls, but he was always a little nervous about it. Or maybe it was the nerves brought on by thoughts of the Advisors. “They’ll hurt you the moment you get close to them. Promise me, Rumi.”

“Promise,” she nodded, thinking more of the gifts and souls Jinu would bring, and returned to scratching the tiger. Its whole body trembled as it purred, and its large orange eyes narrowed in pleasure.

Jinu sighed. He smiled and ruffled her short hair like he always did before leaving. “I'll be back soon. Sussie's in charge. See you later.” He walked out, leaving her alone with Sussie and the tiger.

 

The demons were strange, but Jinu was wise, so Rumi listened.

A small, flying creature appeared before Rumi. She froze, admiring how its tiny wings shimmered with color. It descended to the ground and perched on a slender growth protruding from the ground. Rumi crouched down, watching as it slowly moved its wings. It was beautiful. She smiled broadly. Now she will also bring a gift for Jinu! She reached out to grab it, but the creature slipped through her fingers.

“Wait! Don’t go!” she shouted, chasing after it and stumbling over the uneven ground.

The creature soared higher and higher until it vanished among the rustling things. Rumi jumped, trying to catch it, but she was too small and her arms too short.

She puffed out her cheeks, feeling tears gathering in her eyes. Why was it running away from her? She didn't want to hurt it. She sniffed and quickly wiped her eyes. She wasn’t weak. She’d find another creature—and this time, she'd catch it. Yes. This time she’d succeed. She’d find the creature and give it to Jinu, and he would smile at her with that beautiful smile.

She nodded with renewed determination and, her eyes still red, ran onward.

She ran through this strange world, enjoying the warm light on her cheeks and the cool wind in her hair. Honmoon rippled with every touch. Its song whispered softly in her ears. Look how nice it is here, it said, and Rumi responded with a happy hum, because yes, it was nice here.

She saw many different creatures. Jumping, flying, crawling. Some making buzzing sounds and others silent. But none of them were as pretty as the one with the colorful wings. She searched everywhere—under stones, under the remains of growths, on the growths, and in the air. Rumi blinked rapidly, pushing away a new wave of tears. Maybe she could still find that creature. She had to.

She bent down to crawl under the hanging growth and then she heard it.

Laugh.

Very slowly, she straightened up and tiptoed toward the protruding growth from behind which the sound was coming. The growth was large enough for her to hide behind it and comfortably observe what was happening in front of her. She sighed when she saw… someone.

These weren't demons. Their skin was pale and so strangely empty, without any patterns. There were no claws growing from the fingers, no twisted fangs protruding from the mouth, and the eyes were as dark as the lands of The Realm. Completely different from the eyes of other demons, more like Rumi's...

A strange feeling bloomed in her chest. They were humans. They had to be humans. They looked almost just like her.

Rumi might have been small and still knew little of the world, but she knew she wasn’t a demon. Not a demon, and not a human. Something in between. Something that others mocked, pointing at her with claw-tipped fingers and bursting into cruel laughter. When she was younger, she’d always hide behind Jinu in moments like that. Sometimes, to his annoyance, she still did.

She watched with bated breath as the smaller of the humans, just slightly bigger than Rumi, ran, laughing loudly. He came dangerously close to her hiding spot. Rumi quickly ducked behind the growth.

Her heart pounded like a palace gong. It thundered in her ears like the voice of the King. Fear flooded her, that humans would hear and see her.

Humans were evil, they would hurt her. That’s what Jinu said. And Jinu was wise, so it had to be true.

She held her breath, but as the seconds passed and the little human didn't appear, she timidly peeked out from behind the growths. He crouched nearby, over a small growth with lots of white heads. His face lit up with delight. He grabbed the growth with one hand and tore it off. Then he turned to the larger human. That was when Rumi heard the word.

“Mom! Mom, look at this beautiful flower!” He shouted, running and waving the flower. “For you.”

“Thank you, it really is beautiful.” The larger human smiled beautifully, though not as beautifully as Jinu, and accepted the flower.

Something rustled high in the bushes. Rumi looked up, but all she saw was Sussie in her black hat. The bird landed on her shoulder, and all three pairs of eyes narrowed dangerously. Rumi felt herself shrink under that judging gaze.

She heard the voice of the larger human and peeked out from behind the growths again. “Time to go home.” They held out their hand, and the little human took it. Rumi watched them until they disappeared among the growths.

Sussie pinched her ear.

“Ouch! Why did you do that?” Rumi puffed out her cheeks, massaging her sore ear. An irritated look was her only reply. “No one saw me,” she mumbled. She peeked out from behind the growth once again. Rumi and Sussie were alone now.

The magpie made an irritated sound. Rumi bit her lip, staring at the cluster of white flowers. Flower. A strange name for a strange thing.

It wasn’t as beautiful as that other creature, but Rumi didn’t want to return empty-handed—and that human had been happy to receive the gift. Maybe Jinu will be too?

She carefully left her hiding spot and approached the cluster of flowers. Hesitantly, she touched the white bloom. It was soft, yielding beneath her fingers as easily as a tiger’s fur. No wonder there were no flowers in The Realm—something so delicate could never survive there. She smiled and picked the flower. She had her very first gift for Jinu!

 

---

 

“Rumi.” She felt a large hand on her shoulder. She muttered indistinct words and buried her face deeper into the tiger's soft fur. “Rumi.”

She blinked slowly. Sleep had glued her eyelids together. She rubbed her eyes with a little fist, and only then did she see Jinu’s golden eyes before her.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” He smiled in that lovely way, the tips of his fangs sticking out from under his lips. “I have something for you.”

Rumi blinked, now much more aware of her surroundings. She sat up reluctantly, leaving behind the warmth radiating from the still-sleeping tiger.

“You're back,” she murmured sleepily, leaning toward him. He sat beside her so she could snuggle into him. The familiar scent of ash and something floral—she could finally name it now—wrapped around her almost as comfortingly as Honmoon. The flower. “I bringed you a present!”

She dug the white flower out of her gray hanbok. It drooped pitifully in her hand. The white bloom had begun to brown unpleasantly—it had turned that way the moment the tiger took her home.

“It was prettier before,” she mumbled as she held out her hand with the flower. Jinu said nothing. With every passing moment, she felt worse. Her eyes stung, threatening to spill more tears. “You don’t like it…”

A large hand wrapped around her small fist.

“It's beautiful. Thank you.” He tucked the flower into his belt the same way some demons wore metal ornaments in it. Rumi felt like she could float from happiness. He wiped the tears from her face and looked at her with a stern glare. “You know you shouldn’t go to the human world. They’ll hurt you if they find out what you are.”

Rumi turned her head. The dark corners of the hut became much more interesting than Jinu's stern gaze. He sighed and pulled her closer.

“Just be careful. Remember to cover your patterns there and take Sussie with you. Now look what I brought.” Rumi’s head immediately turned back to Jinu. He opened his hand and revealed a tiny sphere. Its pale blue glow gently brightened the gloomy hut. Rumi’s stomach growled, drawing another laugh from Jinu. “This soul is for you. Enjoy.”

She grabbed it and, wincing, immediately swallowed it. The warm sphere burned her tongue and throat, stung her nose, forcing Rumi to blink rapidly to shake off the sudden sting. The taste wasn’t great either. It felt like ash and something undefinable, electric, had settled on her tongue. No matter how many times she swallowed, the taste lingered, but at least she wasn’t hungry anymore.

Jinu laughed at her grimace. "They taste better over time."

Rumi wanted to believe it. He always said the same thing, but no matter how much time passed, nothing ever changed. Probably even more time needed to pass. Definitely. After all, Jinu knew everything.

She swallowed again, trying to get rid of the taste. She gave him her best sad tiger eyes. “Did you bring me a present too?”

“You know, it was a tough raid. We had to act fast and…” Rumi pouted. “Geez, you’re spending way too much time with that tiger,” he muttered, throwing the demonic beast an annoyed glance. Rumi knew it was just a game. Then he smiled and pulled a small bundle from his pocket. “I could never forget about you.”

Rumi snatched the gift and immediately unfolded it. It was a large, colorful scarf. The material was soft and cool. It flowed between her fingers like water.

“Pretty,” she gasped as she caught some of the purple light. The scarf was covered in tigers, not blue, but Rumi thought they had the same orange eyes. She wrapped the scarf around her shoulders and snuggled into Jinu's side, making a soft, rumbling sound in her throat. “Thank you.”

They sat together, watching dark clouds drift across the sky through the window. Jinu spoke to her about the human world, and Rumi listened, feeling her eyelids grow heavier and heavier.

“Jinu, what is mom?”

He fell silent. Rumi lifted her head to look at him. The smile vanished from his face, leaving a disturbing emptiness. She frowned. Had she asked the wrong question? 

“It's someone who…” He licked his lips. A crease appeared between his eyebrows. “It's someone who cares for children. Loves them and helps them until they grow up. Everyone has a mom.”

Rumi tilted her head. “So you're my mom?”

A strange sound escaped his throat. “What? Oh… No, I… Um… I could be your older brother? Yes. I could be your older brother. It’s kind of the same, but a little different?” He scratched the back of his neck. “You see, when a mom and dad love each other very much… that’s when children are born. I could be your older brother who stands in for your mom and dad.”

“But you care about me and help me?” It was obvious enough for Rumi.

Jinu’s face shifted into a mask of sorrow. It lasted just a fraction of a second, and Rumi decided the light must have played tricks on her. After all, why would Jinu be sad? She didn’t want him to be sad.

“Just like your brother. Your mom's dead, but…” His eyes widened as he realized what he'd said.

Rumi’s lips trembled, and her eyes darted toward the massive silhouette of the palace towering over The Realm. “Dead?”

She knew death well. In her short life, she had witnessed many executions. The King always seemed to take pleasure in the deaths of demons who had disappointed him. Had her mother died for Gwi-Ma’s pleasure too? What had she done to fail him, to deserve his wrath?

“Damn it… Your mother was human. She died because… because humans are weak, small, and fragile. They often die from things that barely harm a demon. That’s just how they are.” 

And somehow, that made it worse. Because if her mother was human, that meant Rumi had human blood too. And if humans were weak… 

“Am I weak too? Like a human?”

“You have this, just like your dad. Just like me.” He pulled back her sleeve, pointing to a jagged purple line adorning her right arm. It looked so unassuming compared to Jinu’s patterns. His patterns climbed across every patch of skin like a tangled, torn web. “And that means, when there are more of them, you’ll be strong like a demon. You just need to grow up.”

Rumi sniffed. She wasn't weak. And when she grew up and the patterns covered her like the others, she would be as strong as Jinu. Maybe then people would stop looking at her with such mockery?

“But it takes soooo loooong.”

“You just have to be patient,” he assured her, hugging her tighter.

“And my dad?”

“That's not a story for today.”

Rumi pursed her lips but said nothing.

Brother.

She looked at Jinu. A pleasant warmth blossomed in her chest. Jinu, her brother. She liked how it sounded.

Chapter 2

The human world drew Rumi in more and more. It beckoned and tempted her with everything it offered. It was fascinating—so full, bright and alive. It was completely different from The Realm, drenched in eternal gloom and lit only by the King’s flames. Jinu’s stories only heightened her curiosity. She wanted to discover the entire human world—from the tiniest bugs that wriggled their many legs so hilariously when she picked them up, to the distant, mysterious shapes that sliced through the sky with a dull roar.

She usually slipped away alone when Jinu left for another raid, and the darkness and loneliness of the hut began to overwhelm her. Each time the tiger led her through Honmoon, and then Sussie followed her like a shadow. The magpie faithfully carried out Jinu’s orders, never letting Rumi out of sight—not with any of her six eyes, not even for a moment.

At first Rumi just watched. She stayed in the shadow of the trees—Jinu had explained that those tall, wind-whispering growths were called trees—far from human eyes. Sometimes she wanted to join the humans. Whenever the urge grew too strong and her body betrayed even the slightest motion toward them, Sussie stepped in, pinching her ear and scattering those foolish dreams.

An old man saw her. Demon faces were marked with patterns, but his face was carved with deep furrows, as if long claws had been sunk into it. Before Rumi could hide, he pointed at her with a bony finger.

“What are you doing here alone, girl?” He asked, his voice trembling and wheezing, as if speaking cost him great effort.

Jinu always said humans were weak. And this man was weak. Even Rumi, who still knew little of the world, could tell.

She froze at his sudden attention. The world slowed down. Her legs felt rooted into the ground, just like the trees surrounding her. 

Honmoon rippled, humming softly like the wind. The soothing blue wrapped around her, and suddenly, Rumi could speak again. “Sussie is with me,” she replied, then turned on her heel, and immediately ran away.

Her heart was pounding as if it wanted to break out of her chest. Once she was back in the hut, Rumi smiled. She was talking to a human! And the old man didn't see her as a demon, so maybe—just maybe—she could get closer to humans. All she had to do was hide her patterns. 

Sussie squawked and flapped her wings. During the next outings, the magpie became relentless. All it took was for Rumi to gaze toward the humans for a little too long and the ear pinch would follow.

This made Rumi mad at the bird. She puffed out her cheeks and crossed her little arms over her chest, stubbornly refusing to look at it. Like that time she'd stood in the shadows, watching a group of children run around a wooden structure. They jumped, ran, and laughed with unbridled joy. Rumi didn’t know what their game was about, but she longed to be a part of it. She wanted to climb the colorful walls, slide down the blue slide, run and laugh until she couldn't walk. Without judgmental glances and loudly spoken mockery.

In The Realm, there were no children who could play with her. There were no games, either. Could executions be considered play? Rumi doubted it. Jinu forbade her from straying too far from the hut, and as long as she was still as weak as a human, she was to stay away from the other demons. 

She didn't have a chance to pout for long. A sudden gust of sharp wind brought dark, almost black clouds. Rumi panicked, fearing the King had come to disturb the peace of this world after hearing her thoughts, but just as the thought formed, drops of water fell from the sky. She squeaked in surprise, because why would water fall from the sky?

The drops were heavy and cold. Her hair clung to her face, her clothes stuck uncomfortably to her body, the sand felt rough against her feet, and the gust of wind felt like hundreds of sharp knives slicing her skin. She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling. She didn't like it.

She lifted her gaze, searching for the children, but they had all vanished.

Sussie pecked her on the shoulder and pointed toward the wooden structure. Rumi obediently ran in the indicated direction. She crouched down, wrapping her trembling arms tighter around herself.

Cold.

Why was it so cold? The Realm was always warm.

The wind wasn't as bad under the structure, and the boards above her head protected her from the water falling from the sky. Sussie nestled its head into the crook of her neck and let out a comforting sound

Rumi didn't know how much time she spent waiting for the bad weather to pass. She must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she opened her eyes again, the golden light almost blinded her. The sky brightened, and its blue was adorned with the most magnificent thing Rumi had ever seen.

A colorful arc, curved like the claws of the Advisors, sliced through the sky. It floated high above the ragged clouds, its ends disappearing beyond the treetops.

In The Realm red and purple dominated. But in the human world, there were so many colors and Rumi loved them all. Every human could wear dazzling colors—reds, blues, greens. Rumi remembered a child in a shirt so bright it made her eyes ache to look at it, and yet she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

She tugged at the sleeve of her gray hanbok. At home, only the most important demons wore colorful robes. Most of them—those with twisted limbs, bulging eyes, and monstrous jaws—wore gray sashes or scraps of cloth.

Rumi had often seen the Advisors and generals clad in their colorful hanboks, adorned with intricate patterns and metal plates that gleamed in the King’s light. Even Jinu’s hanbok, though uniformly black, was remarkably soft and shimmered beautifully whenever he approached Gwi-Ma.

 

---

 

Her own body betrayed her. Human weaknesses seemed to mock her just as loudly as the demons. As if they wanted to emphasize how feeble a creature Rumi truly was.

She hated it.

Her body trembled, her head throbbed as if it were about to burst, her throat ached, and a stream of sticky fluid flowed endlessly from her nose. The world swayed and floated, consciousness slipped away like fine sand through her fingers. In those rare moments when she wasn’t asleep, she cried, burying her face in the blue fur of a tiger or Jinu’s black robe.

Jinu brought her lots of souls. They shone as brightly as the sun and pulsed like a heartbeat. Then he stroked her head, quietly humming or playing his bipa. And despite giving in to human weaknesses, Rumi was happy, because Jinu had never spent so much time with her in the hut before.

She didn't know how much time had passed, there were no days or nights in The Realm, but Rumi was already feeling better. She lay nestled against the tiger, surrounded by its paws and fluffy tail as if wrapped in a giant purring cocoon. Her eyes were half-closed, teetering on the edge of sleep. Jinu plucked at his bipa, crafting a new melody for the King. Rumi imagined that when she grew older and her fingers became longer, she too would learn to play and sing so beautifully.

Suddenly the door opened, the hinges creaking loudly. The music stopped. The tiger’s paws wrapped more tightly around Rumi. An unfamiliar voice broke the silence.

“Jinu, you were gone again. The general is disconsolate.”

Rumi looked up at the newcomer. The yellow eyes lingered on her for only a fleeting moment, but Rumi felt as if an entire mountain had been dropped on her shoulders. She buried her face in the tiger's belly. She desperately wanted to become invisible.

The sound of the bipa being set down broke the tense silence. The floor of the hut creaked as Jinu rose and positioned himself between the demon and Rumi. A living shield protecting her from the whole world.

“Tell the general I’ll be there this time,” he assured, his voice low and throaty. Jinu didn’t like this demon.

“You’d better be, or there will be consequences. Your music won’t protect you this time.” The floorboards creaked again. The voice clicked its tongue. “The mutt wasn’t supposed to distract you.”

THUD

A dull thud shook the hut, dust tumbled down from the rafters, and the air vibrated with a low growl. Rumi squeezed her eyes shut, clutching the fur with her tiny fists as if her life depended on it.

Inhale, one, two, three, exhale.

She counted in her mind just as Jinu had taught her. 

CRACK

Inhale, one, two, three, exhale.

Nothing could harm her. Jinu would protect her. And the Tiger. And Sussie.

Inhale, one, two, three, exhale.

So why was there a tight knot in her chest?

She flinched at the warm hand stroking her head.

"It's okay, Rumi," Jinu's voice enveloped her like a warm blanket. "It's okay now."

She tore herself from the tiger’s embrace and buried her face in Jinu’s robe. The familiar scent of ash and flowers—still faint beneath her fluid-filled nose—surrounded her, along with Jinu’s arms. A muffled sob escaped her throat.

 

---

 

Jinu had been disappearing more often — and for longer. His absences stretched endlessly. The usually gloomy and empty hut felt even gloomier and emptier. Rumi knew it wasn’t just her own wish for him to be near. Before her illness, she could predict Jinu’s return—he’d come back shortly before her stomach began to ache. This time, she sat curled up in the corner with a colorful scarf draped over her shoulders and Sussie napping on her lap. Her stomach twisted, letting out bubbling sounds.

She gritted her teeth as the sucking feeling in her stomach intensified. She had to be strong. Just like Jinu. She knew he would return soon. And when he returns, he’ll bring souls and her stomach will stop hurting.

He had to come back.

Because if he didn't, Rumi would be left alone with the tiger and Sussie. She loved them, but they weren't Jinu.

Jinu returned when the grip in her stomach became unbearable. He handed her a soul, faded yet glowing with a pale light. It tasted terrible, and yet Rumi had never eaten a soul so eagerly before.

Her stomach groaned, still unsatisfied. The pain had eased to a bearable level. She wanted it to disappear completely.

"We're going on a trip," Jinu announced, showing a bundle slightly smaller than Rumi's. "But you have to listen to me. Okay?"

She nodded immediately. Jinu sometimes took her on trips to the gray mountain peaks. In those moments, Rumi wondered whether the King could see it all from his palace—the entire Realm bathed in his radiance.

Rumi tilted her head in confusion as Jinu showed her the... clothes. She had seen human children running around in such robes.

Moments later, Rumi’s body was cleaner than it had ever been. The eternal traces of dust and ash staining her feet and hands had vanished. Her hair had been combed with a strange object full of teeth that pleasantly scratched her scalp and was fastened with simple clips. The dress, as Jinu had called it, fit her perfectly. The shoes, however, were less than perfect, trapping her feet in a tight space.

Rumi longed to find a puddle or a pond so she could see herself. She felt strange but beautiful.

“Ready?”

She looked at Jinu and had to cover her mouth as a wide smile bloomed on her face. “You look funny,” she giggled. “Like a human.”

“Then I look just right,” he said, slung the bipa over one shoulder with one hand and reached out to Rumi with the other. She grabbed his hand instantly. It looked almost like hers, but she could feel the long claws hidden beneath the spell.

“Where are we going?”

Jinu just smiled. The tiger sat on his other side, orange eyes illuminating the darkness of the hut as he stared at them expectantly.

An invisible sign—unseen by Rumi—was given, and the passage opened. She blinked as bright light flooded straight into her eyes. Not entirely bright, but far brighter than anything else in The Realm.

She tilted her head upward, trying to understand what she was seeing. Grayish and light-colored walls rose high into the sky—taller than the trees, though still not as tall as the mountains. Some sections reflected light, others were colorful and only slightly shiny, and some were completely dull.

“We’re almost there,” Jinu informed her, leading her toward the source of the hum and constant roar that unpleasantly irritated Rumi’s ears. The tiger had already vanished. “Humans call it a city. They’re bigger and louder than villages. You’ve never been to one, have you?”

She shook her head, widening her eyes. So much was happening! And she was with Jinu in the human world! Her heart swelled with happiness and even the noise seemed to lose its significance.

Rumi wished for another pair of eyes so she wouldn’t have to keep turning her head. Humans were everywhere, rushing forward, talking to one another, coming in and out of tall buildings. Loud machines, cars, zipped down the street, leaving behind an unpleasant smell. Lights flashed all around and sharp colors assaulted the senses. On the glowing walls, smaller humans moved strangely blurry and silent. After watching them too long, Rumi’s head began to hurt. Once or twice, a cat darted past her feet.

Jinu led them toward the trees. It was quieter here. The noise no longer bothered Rumi's ears. People moved more slowly. The flashing lights disappeared.

They stopped under a spreading tree. Its branches cast pleasant shade on the ground. Its leaves were losing their beautiful green hue to yellow and red.

Jinu took the bipa off his shoulder.

“You can explore a little, but stay within sight,”  he said, settling comfortably under a tree and strumming the strings once Rumi nodded.

Beautiful music filled the peaceful park. Rumi sat on a bench, her legs swinging in the air. Jinu’s music was meant to be listened to. The King listened to it so everyone else should too.

Humans passing by slowed their pace. Some stopped. A few tossed something into the basket and rushed off again, but to Rumi’s surprise, Jinu didn’t seem to mind at all. He simply nodded and kept playing.

His voice joined the sound of the bipa, and Honmoon trembled.

Rumi’s hand flew straight to her chest. Blue threads swirled, fleeing from Jinu and tightening around her painfully.

Make it stop, it seemed to cry, but Rumi couldn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t like Jinu’s music. After all, Jinu played and sang beautifully. And if he wanted to share his music with humans, they should listen with gratitude.

No, no, no! Make it stop! Honmoon wouldn't stop. It wailed and waved around Rumi, as if begging her to do something. She raised her hands to her ears, but it didn't help. Honmoon continued to plead.

No, no, no. Bad. No. Make it stop…

Rumi jumped off the bench and walked away into the trees. Maybe if she moved far enough from Jinu, she would stop hearing Honmoon’s wailing.

It only helped a little. She could still see the swirling, restless threads of the barrier. The blue shimmered and trembled as shades of pink ran across it.

Rumi felt sick. Why would Honmoon react this way to Jinu? Was that why the demons didn't like it? Because he didn't like their songs?

She moved a bit farther away—far enough that she could no longer hear Jinu, though she could still see him if she looked carefully enough. If he were wearing his usual black hanbok, he would be perfectly visible. But in human clothes, he vanished into the crowd.

Moving among the humans felt strange. There were so many of them, yet no one paid any attention to her. Was she really that human?

Rumi looked at the bug. It was thrashing its legs, desperately trying to escape from her fingers.

“So cool! Can I hold it?”

She jumped back with a muffled cry. In front of her crouched a boy. He was smiling widely, staring with adoration at a bug. Then he looked at Rumi waiting and furrowed his brows.

“Why are you sitting on the grass?” He tilted his head. “You'll get sick.”

Rumi immediately jumped to her feet.

Because you scared me.

“Because you showed up! You can't show up like that,” she declared, clenching her fists. The buzzing reminded her of the bug in her hand, and she slightly loosened her grip.

“Then you’re easy to scare,”  he shrugged and pointed at the bug. “Can I take it?”

Rumi narrowed her eyes. She didn't like this boy.

“No.”

“But-”

“No,”  she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.

She wouldn't be afraid of a little human. Humans were weak, and she was with Jinu.

The boy groaned, and Rumi blinked in confusion. Where there should have been two front teeth, there was a gaping hole. Why would anyone take parts of the human body? It was... It was disgusting.

“Where are your teeth?”

“Huh?” The boy puffed out his chest proudly, as if the fact that someone had taken his teeth was a source of pride. “They fell out. That means I'm an adult now! So you have to give me a bug. Cause I'm older.”

Humans are losing body parts?! A wave of horror washed over Rumi. No. It's disgusting, and the boy must be making fun of her. Rumi didn’t want her teeth to fall out. Ever.

“That’s stupid,” she said, lifting her chin high. Jinu always stood tall when he challenged others. “You’re lying.”

“I'm not lying! Look.” He opened his mouth, and Rumi bravely didn't look away. “I'm going to have adult teeth!”

She pressed the bug to her chest and spun on her heels. She had to find Jinu. He would dispel the boy’s lies, because that’s all they were. The boy must have lost some fight, gotten injured, and now he was lying so he wouldn’t look so weak.

She quickly found Jinu. He was no longer playing, but talking to two humans. Neither of them seemed aware that a powerful demon stood before them.

She ran up to him and grabbed his hand. She hoped the firm grip would catch Jinu’s attention.

It did.

The pressure of his claws on her skin was comforting.

Jinu said goodbye to the people as if they were equals and led Rumi along the park path.

“Did you have fun?”

Rumi bit her lower lip, her eyes stinging. She slowly shook her head.

“Do people…” she began, but stopped. A wonderful scent wrapped around her nose, and her stomach growled. She swallowed, feeling saliva gather in her mouth. “What smells so good?”

“I thought you might like it more than the souls,” he smiled and pointed to a small stand.

Rumi sniffed. The scent was coming from over there. It floated through the cool evening air, tempting her. And Jinu was leading them that way.

Sitting on the bench with a delicious serving of tteokbokki, Rumi forgot all about falling body parts and Honmoon’s wailing.  Jinu, making a funny face, had accepted the bug as a gift. Her stomach no longer ached—it was fuller than ever before. She felt wonderful. She nestled her head against Jinu’s side, her chest rumbling with delight.

Chapter 3

“Nail.”

Rumi carefully dug a sharp piece of metal out of the pouch and placed it into Jinu’s outstretched hand.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The nail disappeared into the wooden board. Rumi tilted her head, wrinkling her nose. She didn’t like loud noises. Aside from the enthusiastic shouts of the crowd during executions and speeches, The Realm was mostly quiet.

The pile of planks was finally taking shape. It had taken a great deal of work—finding usable pieces, transporting everything to The Realm, and finally assembling it all into a cohesive, functioning whole.

Their own closet.

Rumi was bursting with pride. It had been her idea, sparked after seeing furniture inside a human home. A girl named So-hee had been all too happy to show her around her room—answering every question with pride. And without hesitation, Jinu began collecting discarded furniture and parts each time he ventured into the human world.

Their hut now looked cozy. First came the small table, where they sometimes played Go (Rumi had never won a game, but one day she would beat Jinu). In the corner appeared a mattress—the tiger’s new favorite sleeping spot, and therefore Rumi’s as well—and a small box that held money and a few toys.

For demons, worthless trash, but for Rumi, her own priceless fragment of the human world.

Rumi ran her tongue over her teeth. Her gums ached. The gap was slowly filling in, but it did nothing to ease the discomfort. Rumi not only lacked the fangs other demons had—she also lost teeth. The days she had to accompany Jinu to the palace were even worse than usual.

Humiliating.

She had learned that word recently. But despite all the humiliation, she stubbornly refused to admit that she heard the Advisors' mocking comments. She stood tall, chin lifted. After all, she was strong, even if the words she spoke sometimes sounded strange.

“Done,” Jinu straightened up, admiring his work. The white, lacquered closet looked oddly out of place, but Rumi loved it anyway. “Help me move it.”

Rumi stepped up beside Jinu, and on the count of three, she used all her strength. With a grating sound, piece by piece, the closet slid across the dark floor until it finally settled into the spot meant for it.

“I like it,” she said, gazing at their creation. She brushed long strands from her face and turned to Jinu. “Can we go get kimbap?”

He shook his head.

“Honmoon is too strong today.”

Rumi’s shoulders dropped, and her gaze drifted to the blue threads visible beyond the window. They pulsed steadily against the red sky—symbol of The Realm’s faded glory. In moments like this, she understood the sorrow of the old demons. The days when crossing between worlds was as simple as stepping out of a hut must have been wonderful.

“You know you can go with Sussie?” Jinu tapped Rumi’s temple with his finger. “I know you’ll be fine.”

She hunched her shoulders even more. Her fingers tugged at the edges of her gray sleeves. They had grown too short, barely reaching her wrists.

“I wanted to go with you. Stupid Honmoon.”

Jinu laughed brightly. Rumi saw no reason to laugh.

“We all want it gone already. It’s weakening,” he said, grabbing the bipa and sitting at the table. “And when it’s weak enough, the King will lead the demons to destroy it completely. It and the huntresses.”

"And then we can go to the human world whenever we want?"

“Exactly. Whenever we want.”

Rumi shifted uncomfortably. The idea of Honmoon’s destruction didn’t feel entirely right. Honmoon, who had wrapped her in love in the human world just like Jinu did, who encouraged her to meet human children and showed her the beauty of their world. But it was also Honmoon who disliked Jinu’s singing and wouldn’t let him cross the boundary between worlds whenever he wanted.

Why did Honmoon have to be so complicated? If it had just let Jinu pass through, Rumi would be happy. The other demons could stay behind. Rumi didn’t like them, so she wouldn’t miss them.

She froze and immediately buried those thoughts so deep that not even the King could find them.

She climbed onto the mattress. The tiger nudged her with his big head, purring loudly. In his mouth, he held a red, slightly chewed string.

“I’ll stay.”

 

---

 

She was looking at a page with an illustration of a pink bird with an absurdly long neck, trying to understand the meaning of the crooked lines and circles scattered beneath the picture, when the hut’s door swung open.

“Jinu! It’s planning timeee…! Oh wow, you really weren’t joking…”

A tall demon with broad shoulders and short pink hair glanced around the hut. Rumi vaguely remembered him from the last palace visit. He had stood with the other reapers, and unlike the rest, hadn’t paid her much attention, too busy with… whatever he was doing with his elbow.

His gaze landed on Rumi, and he raised a hand in greeting.

“Hi, Snip.”

Rumi didn’t respond. She gave no sign that she’d heard a thing. She watched the demon like a crouched cat, tracking his every move until he sat down next to Jinu. Long claws tapped against the pale tabletop.

“You weren’t supposed to come here,” the string hummed with a low note.

“I think from now on, this is the only place we’ll come to. It’s really nice here, easy to get pumped. You know, visualization and all that…” His smile revealed sharp fangs. “I can already feel all those souls we’re going to rip out!”

The demon barely managed to dodge as Sussie swooped down from the rafters, suspiciously close to his head. She landed on the mattress and let out an irritated sound, squinting all six of her eyes at him. Rumi hid a smile behind her book.

“Rude.”

Jinu was manipulating the strings. He plucked them a few times. Rumi winced. That wasn’t the right sound.

“You’re the one who invited yourself into our home.”

“Whatever,” the demon waved his hand as if swatting away a pesky fly and leaned toward Jinu, throwing an arm around him. “The general predicts Honmoon will weaken, just a little, but enough for a raid and a feed. If we plan it right, we’ll gorge ourselves like never before! And Snip’s belly won’t make those weird noises anymore.”

Rumi's face flushed. She felt it spread over her ears and down to her neck. She hid behind her book, all too aware of the eyes on her.

It wasn’t her fault that her human side needed more food and got hungry faster. The gurgling sounds annoyed her too—maybe even more than they annoyed the others. After all, they didn’t have to worry about a hurting stomach.

Jinu plucked the strings again. A clear note resonated through the hut until it was silenced by a flat palm.

“When?”

“Planning? Now. You coming? Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Rumi met Jinu’s gaze. She closed the book and slid off the mattress. The tiger jumped down after her.

Big raids meant long absences, and no matter how much Rumi hated them, there was nothing she could do about it. Although the thought of souls… They tasted awful, but she didn’t feel hungry for a long time afterward.

“You know the rules, listen to Sussie and stay away from the palace,” Jinu ruffled her hair. “I’ll be back in a while.”

Rumi glanced at the strange demon, who was lazily inspecting his claws. She looked at Jinu, then buried her face in his hanbok. 

“Come back quickly,” she murmured, the words slightly muffled by how tightly she pressed her cheek against him.

 

---

 

The human world had become cold and unpleasant. A sharp wind bit at her exposed cheeks and slipped beneath her clothes. Wearing the hood of an oversized hoodie didn’t help, nor did tucking her frozen hands into the sleeves. The gray slush on the ground soaked her pant legs and seeped into her shoes. Even Honmoon’s silvery-blue threads offered no protection from the weather.

How could humans live in such conditions?

They had to be insane.

Rumi shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as an especially icy gust tore through the air. The shop across the street seemed more and more tempting with each passing moment.

She glanced up and down the street. A gray car flashed by, the glow of its headlights nearly blinded Rumi, and the rush of air struck her, forcing her to step back a few steps. She shuddered and ran across the street.

The shop door was heavy; it took all of Rumi's strength to open it. But once she managed it, she was flooded with a feeling like sinking into a pile of blankets beside the tiger. A breath of relief escaped her lips. The interior was warm and bright. Upbeat music played softly in the background, and the air was filled with the scent of food and something artificially clean. Rumi didn’t yet know what to call it.

The creeping feeling on her back told her that the man behind the counter was watching her closely. She did what she always did in The Realm—head held high, back straight—and stepped into the aisles. She had learned that in shops, humans didn’t like it when she snuck around and tried to disappear. 

She scanned the shelves. Colorful packages gleamed under the cold lights. There were so many of them, dozens upon dozens, and Rumi felt lost. What should she choose? Which of the bright wrappers held food, and which hid tasteless, hard objects?

She bit her lip, considering her options. Unfamiliar symbols covered the packages. Rumi knew humans could tell what was inside just by reading them. Unfortunately, that knowledge was beyond her reach.

Jinu would know. He could read the signs on the boards at the small food stands. But Jinu wasn’t here, and Rumi’s stomach sucked unpleasantly.

“Where are your parents?”

Rumi managed to stifle a squeak, but her body jolted. She looked at the man, her heart pounding.

“Everything okay, kid?”

She blinked. Right. She had to answer. Now.

“Y-yes.” The man didn’t look convinced. She swallowed and repeated, this time with a much steadier voice: “Yes, everything’s okay.”

Silence fell again. Rumi glanced at the broom in the man’s hand, then at his hands, and finally at the door. A frail human, no match for a demon. But Rumi wasn’t a demon. Not fully. And she was small. And hungry.

“Where are your parents?” he repeated, raising a sparse eyebrow.

“In the car. It broke down,” the lie slipped smoothly off her tongue. “I just wanted to warm up and… and get something to eat. I have money.”

She pulled from her pocket a handful of crumpled paper slips, the kind humans used to get what they wanted.

Despite her frozen body, Rumi felt sweat trickling down her back as the man stubbornly kept his eyes on her. Finally, he sighed and pointed to a shelf, and Rumi felt a wave of relief wash over her.

“You probably want something warm. Ramyeon?”

She had no idea what ramyeon was, but she nodded cautiously. The man grabbed one of the colorful packages from the shelf and headed to the counter.

Rumi hesitated. Only when he set the broom aside did she timidly step forward.

As if a piece of wood made any difference.

She stood timidly at the counter. Her head barely reached the surface, yet she could see part of a moving image in a small box. That’s where the music was coming from. Three women danced and sang. The sound stirred something in Rumi’s heart—sweet and bitter, like a long-forgotten longing. But what could she be longing for?

Honmoon shifted, wrapped around Rumi’s shoulders. Look, it whispered, curling around the device and the man, buzzing and vibrating to the rhythm of the song, only deepening the feeling.

“That’ll be 700,” the man’s voice cut through Honmoon’s hum.

Rumi rose onto her toes and spilled a handful of money onto the counter. The man took some and pushed the rest back toward her.

The smell rising from the cup was wonderful, and the contents warmed Rumi’s hands just as pleasantly. She settled comfortably at a small table. The chopsticks in her hands felt awkward, she rarely used them, but with very careful movements, she took her first bite.

Why was human food infinitely better than souls? It felt unfair. If humans were so weak, they shouldn’t be able to make such good things.

The music changed. The moving image showed the same women, but in different clothes. Her foot tapped against the leg of the stool in rhythm with the song.

Another injustice. In The Realm, Rumi was only ever allowed to wear the same gray hanbok. Why could humans dress however they wanted?

She slipped another portion of slippery noodles into her mouth. It was a shame she couldn’t take a few cups back to The Realm, she’d hide them at the bottom of the closet and eat them during Jinu’s next raid. But food spoiled instantly after crossing the boundary. And apparently, it smelled unpleasant to other demons.

Rumi didn’t particularly care about the other demons, but Jinu didn’t like the smell of human food either.

She tilted her head as one of the women’s faces filled the screen. She had a beautiful voice. More beautiful than Jinu’s. Was that why Honmoon didn’t like his singing? Again, it felt unfair. After all, she was just human.

The woman turned, and her long braid swayed with her. Rumi tilted her head. Her own hair was growing longer. Maybe she should ask Jinu to braid it like that. It looked pretty.

The image changed again, showing all three women together. Rumi slurped up the last of her ramyeon. She felt warm and pleasantly full. She blinked sleepily at a movement outside the window. Sussie had perched on a post, staring intently at Rumi. Her yellow eyes glowed in the dark. It was time to go back.

The first blast of cold air washed away all sleepiness. Rumi longed to return to the warm shop, but Sussie had already landed on her shoulder and was nipping at her ear. Thankfully, the wind had died down.

“Coming,” she mumbled, adjusting her hood. Her breath turned into a silvery mist. She giggled and blew again, briefly forgetting the biting cold. “Look, Sussie! My breath is smoky!”

The magpie rolled her eyes.

Rumi hummed the song from the box, walking in rhythm with it. Honmoon shimmered and pulsed, as if encouraging her to keep going. Its warm embrace was comforting and full of joy.

Too bad there were no stars. She loved looking at them.

Another car passed down the street. Its headlights lit up the sidewalk, bringing deep shadows to life.

Honmoon moaned mournfully and rippled.

Rumi stopped, the sound caught in her throat. For some reason, her heart began to pound wildly.

Ahead of her, the sidewalk curved into a side alley. A single streetlamp lit part of it. A dull thud broke the silence.

Rumi swallowed and exchanged a glance with Sussie. The bird fluffed up her feathers, narrowing her eyes menacingly. Rumi peeked out from behind the wall.

She doesn’t know what she’s looking at. Two dark shapes. One larger than the other.

THUMP

A long, narrow object gleams in the smaller shape’s hand.

It’s not a claw.

It pierces the larger shape with the ease of a claw.

The sound of tearing fabric rings in her ears. Tearing fabric and a groan.

Rumi smells something metallic.

The larger shape collapses to the ground.

Honmoon wails, moans, and trembles. It wraps around Rumi’s small hands. It tugs and pushes. It writhes like a wounded animal, and Rumi feels sick.

Behind the smaller shape, two yellow orbs flash.

“The mutt crawled out of its den,” says a low, layered voice. “Did the mutt come to feed?”

The smaller shape flinches. Its head whips around wildly in all directions. Its gaze skims past the demon, then suddenly locks onto Rumi.

“You!” The shape, a human, points at Rumi with the not-claw. The red gleams like the robes of the Advisors and trembles like the flames of the King. “Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here. YOU SHOULDN’T BE HERE!”

The human’s screams sound as if they’re coming from underwater—distant and muffled. Irrelevant in the face of the being behind him.

But the human doesn’t know about the danger.

The demon stands beside him. Its yellow eyes narrow with delight. A clawed hand hovers over the larger shape. The shape trembles.

The demon leans down, blocking Rumi’s view. When it straightens, the larger shape no longer trembles. It lies still, and a sickly sweet smell reaches Rumi’s nose, making her want to vomit.

“Come here, child. Yes. Come closer. Come to me.” The smaller human takes a step toward Rumi. Then another. “COME TO ME!”

She flinches and looks into his eyes—wild and filled with something Rumi had only ever seen during executions.

Fear—she realizes.

A low laugh pulls Rumi’s attention back to the demon. It stands lazily beside the human, yet the man seems completely unaware of its presence.

“Humans are such nothing…” In less than a heartbeat, the demon’s claws clamp around the man’s neck and lift him into the air. The man kicks and gasps. He chokes and flails his legs. His eyes bulge. “Does the mutt want to feed?”

Yellow eyes flick briefly to Rumi. Fangs flash. Rumi sees five straight lines crossing the demon's face. They transform his smile into something terrifying.

“Watch and learn, mutt.”

The demon leans close to the man’s face. He opens his mouth. The man thrashes like a mouse lifted by its tail. His eyes bulge even more as he finally sees the creature before him. Blue light floods the alley. It rises from the man’s mouth and flows straight into the demon’s gaping jaws.

It glows and flows like a mountain stream. Honmoon whimpers in despair. The world spins. Rumi’s stomach clenches. Her arm burns.

A rumble fills the alley, bouncing off the walls and making the air tremble.

Dun-dun. Dun-dun. Dun-dun.

The man’s limbs fall to his sides. The clawed hand releases. He drops to the ground. Lifeless.

Dun-dun. Dun-dun. Dun-dun.

A toothy grin and two yellow orbs, that’s all Rumi sees.

“The mutt is weak. Like this-” The demon kicks the man. The amusement vanishes. “Go home. NOW. And let Jinu teach you.”

Rumi flinches.

Suddenly, the whistle of wind and the roar of cars return. It’s cold. But Rumi knows she’s not trembling from the cold.

The demon is gone.

Sussie pinches Rumi’s ear.

She had to go back.

Notes:

Fun fact: Jinu completely forgot that humans need sleep, so until Rumi discovered something called a bed, she used to sleep on a tiger.

Chapter 4

Notes:

Still not totally happy with how it turned out, but after rewriting it four times... yeah, I think it's time to let it go

Thank you so much for all the comments!

Enjoy!

The world shimmered and swam.

One moment, Rumi stood with Sussie on her shoulder in a dark alley, cold wind tugging at her hair. The next heartbeat, something yanked her hood and that same thing kept her from falling to the ground.

She stood on trembling legs, a door appeared in front of her. Another heartbeat, and she was inside the familiar hut.

She swayed so much she had to grab onto the big and fluffy thing. It nudged her toward the mattress, and she surrendered to it without resistance.

She gasped between sobs. There was too much air and not enough. Her chest rose and fell, yet none of her breaths brought relief. Her throat tightened. She felt soft skin beneath her fingers, something gathering under her nails. She tasted salt on her tongue. The smell of copper filled the air.

Why was there so little air?

Deep in her chest, a grumbling began to rise. It vibrated stronger and stronger. It echoed off her bones, syncing with the tiger’s low rumble behind her and Sussie’s soft trill near her ear. It was like a blanket trying to wrap around her wildly pounding heart and calm the racing thoughts.

The smell of old wood, ash, and varnish enveloped her. She was in a hut.

Something warm flowed down her neck.

Rumi wanted to believe that the crooked walls, old blankets, and the tiger could cut her off from the world. A nice, warm barrier surrounding her with protection. Her own Honmoon holding her safely in its arms, far away from demons and humans and all their stupid fights and quarrels. Because to Rumi, that’s what they were—stupid. Why did everyone have to hurt each other instead of enjoying music, colorful clothes, and the twinkling stars in the night sky? Wouldn’t that be better? Wouldn’t everyone be happier that way?

Then Jinu returned.

He walked through the door, shattering the illusion of impenetrable protection. He sat in front of the mattress, smiling so beautifully, with a soul glowing blue in his hand. It didn’t pulse. It didn’t bend. It simply existed. Rumi had never hated the color blue so deeply until now.

The smile vanished quickly from Jinu’s face. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. Fear flickered in his eyes. What could Jinu be afraid of?

“Rumi, what happened?”

He reached a hand toward her, but Rumi buried her face in the warm side of the tiger. She pulled the blanket over her head, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she could. She couldn’t look at souls right now. She wished the world couldn’t see her the same way she couldn’t see it. But crooked walls, old blankets, and the tiger weren’t Honmoon. And they couldn’t stop the world from reaching Rumi.

“Rumi…” The mattress dipped under new weight. She felt a hand press against her shoulder, claws catching on the blanket but not breaking through. “Hey, look at me. Who hurt you, Rumi?” The voice was tense, nearly raspy. She didn’t like that. “It’s all okay now, I’m here. I’m here…”

She didn’t answer. She sniffled, pressing herself even closer to the blue fur. The tiger shifted under her embrace, its tail wrapping tightly around her legs as if trying to absorb her into itself. The rumble in her chest faded, because even though the world was frightening, Jinu’s presence was better than any blanket. Even if there was a soul glowing in his hand.

Why was her neck sticky?

In the heavy silence, the only sounds were her sniffling and the rhythmic thud of her heartbeat. She didn’t want to hear it. It pounded in her ears, dug into her aching head, and bounced off her skull like a ball thrown too hard against a wall.

“On the third day of the third month, the swallow flies and the butterfly is elegant,” Jinu's voice seemed to come from far away, as if mountains separated them, not just a thin blanket. “The inner leaves of the trees, the branches, and flowers bloom, shaking off the spring dream…” 

Rumi let out a trembling breath. The words of a familiar song wrapped around her, calming the storm Honmoon had stirred. Another safe barrier protecting her from the world, but this one felt more real. Impenetrable.

Halfway through the song, Rumi timidly peeked out from under the blanket and rubbed her reddened eyes with a tiny fist. Oh... Her hands were covered in sticky red. She sniffed and looked at Jinu.

He sat beside her. He gently brushed the tangled strands from her face, humming softly. Soon, the song ended and silence settled over the hut once more.

Her neck stung and tingled unpleasantly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as the silence began to stretch. His voice sounded strange, calm on one hand, but with a tension threading through it.

Rumi clenched her fists around the blanket. Her eyes stayed fixed on the soul. It didn’t move like the one torn from the man. Steady. Unchanging. Frozen in time. Maybe once, when it had left its human body, it too had bended and flowed like a stream and Honmoon had wept because of it. Was that other human also weak, lifted by the throat and tossed like a rag doll when he finally died?

“Where- Where do souls come from?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper, yet it still seemed to thunder in the silence surrounding them.

Jinu looked at her for a long time. Or maybe he looked through her? His eyes were so empty. Had Rumi disappointed him? She didn’t want to—she truly didn’t know the answer. But she wanted to. She had to.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Rumi, he looked at the soul in his hand. A short growl escaped his throat. Rumi flinched at the sound. 

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing his eyes the way humans did when they were tired. But Jinu was never tired. He sighed and looked at Rumi. “Do you know why we must be strong?”

Rumi frowned as her mind searched for an answer. This time, she would find the right one, even if she didn’t understand how it connected to her question. After all, in The Realm, everything came down to strength, she knew that perfectly well. Only the strong survive—Jinu had taught her that first.

Memories of the man limp in the demon's immobile grip haunted her. She recalled demons who, after their failures, vanished into the King’s flames, screaming in agony. She shivered and wrapped the blanket tighter around herself.

The movement of her head was uncomfortable, as if a ghostly grip had tightened around her neck. Almost like dried paint.

“Because the weak die?”

"Yes," Jinu nodded and opened his arms wide.

Rumi clumsily freed herself from the tangle of blankets and tiger limbs. The pressure of Jinu’s arms around her was comforting and grounding. Safe. She sighed and pressed her cheek to his chest. His scent wrapped around her. It was different than usual, slightly biting and sharp. It was wrong.

“Once, demons ruled not only The Realm. The human world was at our feet. We were explorers, conquerors, masters of all existence. There was no force that could defeat us,” Jinu’s voice took on the same tone it always did for bedtime stories, slow and almost distant. “Humans knew their place, and that place was beneath us. In the end, the weak always yield to the strong… Until the huntresses appeared and created that abomination, Honmoon. They disrupted the natural order. They stole a piece of us. They called us selfish monsters, creatures without feelings.”

Rumi stirred in his embrace. She knew what feelings were—she knew them well. She knew the paralyzing fear when facing the King and his Advisors. She felt joy swelling inside her every time Jinu returned from a raid, or sang her to sleep. She remembered the sadness when the little mouse she had found became stiff and cold upon entering The Realm, though only moments earlier it had been scurrying around so eagerly.

“What does selfish mean?” she asked with a hiccup, the word unfamiliar to her.

Jinu pulled out a simple handkerchief from somewhere. He hesitated, glancing at her neck, but wiped only the dried tears and snot from her face.

“That’s someone who only cares about themselves and doesn’t think of others.”

Rumi sniffled and puffed out her cheeks in protest. “But you’re not selfish. That… that’s a lie!”

“Yes, all lies that the huntresses like to spread about us.”

“Why would they do that?” she mumbled, burying her face in his robe.

"It's their nature," he sighed. His claw traced Rumi’s neck as delicately as the spiders that sometimes walked there. “It’s always easy to convince the weak to betray. They made humans believe we are evil. Encouraged them to turn against us, their masters. And once they rejected us, they erased us from memory too. We became nothing more than bedtime stories to them. That was far worse than the creation of Honmoon.”

Rumi twisted her torso to look at Jinu. Seeing the sorrow on his face made something tighten in her chest. He shook his head, as if waking from a dream.

“You see, humans have souls and we, demons, feed on them. Not out of greed. We don't want the soul to be forgotten when a human dies. They may be weak, but being forgotten is a terrible fate.”

She imagined that one day, everyone would forget her. Jinu, the tiger, Sussie—they’d all vanish, and she would be left alone. Alone in a dark, empty hut. Rumi shivered. She didn’t want to be alone.

“So by eating souls, we save humans from being forgotten?”

“Yes,” Jinu’s grip on her shoulder tightened. “That’s why we take them and feed on them. We remember. And through that memory, we care for the weak. It’s our duty. It’s always been that way, until Honmoon made our duty harder. The weak yield to the strong, it has always been that way.” He tapped her nose with a claw. “That’s why Gwi-Ma is King.”

Rumi bit the inside of her cheek, trying to grasp the meaning of Jinu’s words. She remembered eating souls, but it was like breathing—just as she remembered smells, so too did she remember tastes. Was that what he meant? Probably so, because if she had been doing something wrong, Jinu would have corrected her. He always did.

“So… does that mean people don’t die when we take their soul?”

Jinu hummed, weighing his next words. This time, it took longer for him to answer.

“Humans die differently than we do. They do it constantly. They can die over years, or in the blink of an eye. We, the reapers, are called by the dying. Unlike the huntresses, they know we’ll take proper care of what they offer us. That’s the only reason we can cross Honmoon, though crossing it is still not easy.”

A great burden had been lifted from Rumi's shoulders. It meant the demon hadn’t killed that man. Humans die differently than demons. Slowly. After all, his body hadn't dissipated into a red cloud. Humans were weak, so their death had to be different. Yes, that made sense. The man had already been dying, and the demon had shown him mercy. Just like the King sometimes showed mercy with a quick death to those who disappointed him.

Rumi sighed. Honmoon simply didn't like demons very much. After all, it had been created by lying huntresses and forbade demons from fulfilling their duty. And the man’s fear… Weak humans feared demons just as lesser demons feared the mighty King. It had to be this way. After all, Jinu had lived long and knew far more about the world than Rumi did.

But that meant Rumi had feared the human. A cold shiver ran down her spine, her shoulder burned, her stomach twisted into a tight knot.

Where did that leave Rumi?

“I don’t want to be weak,” she murmured, tightening her fingers on her arm.

“And you won’t be. You just need to grow up and learn a few things,” Jinu smiled and held out the soul to her.

Rumi rolled the blue orb between her fingers. It was warm, almost like a cup of ramyeon. She should take care of it. Remember it.

“Will I be a reaper too? Like you?” she asked, glancing at Jinu. The taste of the soul clung unpleasantly to her tongue.

“Would you want that?”

She thought it would be nice to help others. To give mercy to those who needed it. After all, she wasn’t selfish. No, she would be the opposite of selfish and wouldn’t let the huntresses spread lies about Jinu and the other demons. About her. She knew she’d have to try harder than the other demons; after all, she was part human.

She nodded with all the determination she could summon. She wouldn’t back down. She would become the best reaper. Even if souls didn’t taste the best, she would do it. She would make Jinu proud of her. Maybe she’d even care for So-hee’s soul when the time came. She liked that human girl; she’d make sure she wasn’t forgotten.

“Then we should teach you to read,” Jinu smiled, his fangs poking past his lips. “You have no idea how much easier life gets.”

Rumi’s eyes widened. She’d finally be able to understand those strange symbols humans placed everywhere. She could choose food from colorful packages and not end up with anything awful anymore! Did this mean she was finally big enough? A warm, fuzzy feeling bloomed in her chest. She would learn to read!

“When do we start?” she asked, nearly bouncing in place. “Can we today? Pleeaaase?”

She made her best tiger eyes.

“Not today, you need some rest. And maybe some fun,” Jinu mussed her hair, ignoring her protests. Then he gently took her jaw and tilted it right, then left. A satisfied hum escaped him as he released her. Rumi turned her gaze away and crossed her arms over her chest. “How about we go catch shadows? What do you think?”

Rumi’s head snapped toward Jinu. All her worries vanished in an instant, replaced by a single thought—she hadn’t caught shadows in ages.

“With you and the tiger?”

“With me and the tiger.”

Rumi couldn’t reach the door fast enough.

Behind her, Jinu’s shout echoed. “We have to wash you first! And your clothes! Change your clothes! These are too new… Where am I supposed to wash them now?!”

Chapter 5

Rumi watched Jinu draw a sequence of symbols on the ground with fascination. He did it so effortlessly, as if he were simply brushing away dirt from grooves that had once been carved there. She recognized some of the symbols from her animal book—she’d flipped through it so many times they had burned into her memory like they’d been etched there by demonic claws. Still, most of the symbols felt unfamiliar. The worst part? They all looked alike. How was she supposed to tell them apart? Her head began to spin at the thought.

“That's how you write your name,” Jinu said, lifting his claw from the ground. Then he pointed to each symbol. “R-U-M-I. Rumi.”

She tilted her head, staring at the symbols. It was so strange. Somehow, those few lines drawn in the dirt were supposed to describe her—her purple hair, tiny hands, round cheeks, and the far-too-human way she looked. It felt almost like magic. Very odd and complicated magic magic she was about to learn.

“Your turn, try writing it. Remember, you start in the top-left corner.”

She crouched down and placed her finger on the ground. Very carefully, she began to copy the sequence of symbols. It wasn’t easy. The ground was hard, and Rumi had no claws to carve clean grooves. The lines Jinu had drawn effortlessly now turned crooked and chaotic under her touch.

“You're doing well,” he nodded as the first shallow symbol took shape, resembling a wriggling snake.

Rumi’s chest swelled with pride. She moved her finger lower, ready to draw the next symbol. An annoyed breath, mixed with a short growl, slipped from her lips when her hand jerked, and the line went too far to the side, ruining the work she’d done so far.

“Take your time,” he said, smudging the crooked line with his hand. “Try again. And remember, slowly.”

With intense focus, she stuck the tip of her tongue out. This time, the line looked better—still a bit uneven and too slanted to truly rival Jinu’s, but it was progress. Before she finished copying the whole word, her finger throbbed from the pressure she’d had to apply to the ground, and her nail was painfully frayed. She really wished she had claws.

She looked at her work. The letters were undeniably crooked, but still legible. At least, she thought so. Then she glanced at Jinu.

“Not bad.”

Those two words made Rumi feel like she could fly. She looked again at her creation, then at Jinu’s. The feeling of lightness faded.

“Still not as pretty as yours,” she sighed with frustration.

Jinu laughed and tousled her hair. “I’ve got a 400-year head start on you, of course my writing is great. Besides, I’m generally great at everything, so no pressure.”

Rumi puffed out her cheeks. She wished she were great at everything too. She blinked.

“How do you write your name?”

“Like this,” he said, carving new symbols into the ground beside hers. She noticed one of them was the same as in her own name and somehow, that made her feel better. “Practice writing both, and then we’ll move on to the more fun stuff.”

He poked her nose with his claw, straightened up, and headed toward the bench, humming a melody. Rumi didn’t recognize it, so it had to be something new he was working on.

She shook her head, refocusing on the task, her braid swayed gently as she moved. She was determined to read and write better than anyone across both worlds. She placed her finger back on the ground and drew the first line.

 

---

 

She rubbed her tired eyes with a tiny fist. There was sand beneath her eyelids, and the countless, far-too-small curved lines and circles scattered across the surface blurred into an indistinct haze that gave her a headache. On top of that, her throat was as dry as the outer reaches. The general darkness of The Realm and the sleep interrupted by dreadful nightmares didn’t help either.

Rumi’s nightmares were truly horrible. She kept returning to that dark alley—but this time, Sussie wasn’t with her. She was alone. Alone with the demon whose hands twisted and tormented people. Most often it was the same little man. Sometimes it was the children she’d met in the park or on the playground. Other times, she saw the shopkeeper or the elderly woman who had once offered her a candy.

No matter who it was, the demon always asked the same question:

“Does the mutt want to feed? ”

Then he would bare his teeth and open his mouth, and Rumi couldn’t move. Invisible hands coiled around her legs, tightened painfully around her arms and throat. Honmoon’s wailing pierced her ears, growing louder and louder. Blue light flooded the alley and suddenly, Rumi would wake up in the dark hut, cradled in Jinu’s arms. A quiet sob escaped her throat as she buried her face in his hanbok.

Why was she haunted by dreams like these? How could she become a reaper if she was afraid of what she was supposed to do as one? She just wanted it to stop. But even Jinu—who knew everything—couldn’t help her. He simply hummed a quiet lullaby, while behind Rumi, the tiger gently pressed its massive head into her back, offering a comforting purr.

Rumi snapped her book shut and looked at Jinu. The needle in his hand flashed again and again as he sewed her new hanbok—it was just as gray as the one she had now, but she noticed lighter threads along the sleeves curling into delicate patterns. He was making a funny face—his brows furrowed in concentration, lips puckered, and his nose twitched every time he exhaled loudly. He mumbled something incoherent and brought the fabric closer to his face, closely inspecting the seam. Maybe it was too crooked?

He gave a quiet growl and attacked the material again with the needle.

“Can we chase shadows again?” she asked, moving to the edge of the mattress. The tiger behind her shifted, clearly displeased at losing her warmth. “Or teach me a new song!”

Jinu looked up from his sewing and blinked slowly. For a moment, he looked as if he were struggling to suppress a growl. Rumi curled up a bit, but only slightly. She knew Jinu loved needlework. Those were the only moments when he’d sometimes growl at her if she tried to get his attention. She thought it was unfair, she never growled at him. Well… maybe once or twice she’d bared her teeth, but that was all.

Fortunately, this time he stayed silent. His eyebrows climbed high, disappearing into his black hair. Somehow, that was even worse—a quiet judgment that seemed to drill mercilessly into Rumi.

“You were supposed to read a page. I’m quite sure it wasn’t even half a page. And you still lack fluency.”

Rumi puffed out her cheeks and looked anywhere but at Jinu. “But it’s sooo boooring...” she sighed, sinking onto the mattress. For a moment she stared at the dark ceiling, blinked, then sat back up. “Then maybe let’s go to the human world? Just for a bit, just for food. Pleeease.”

She felt she’d spent too much time inside the hut. Her hands itched to do anything besides reading or writing, interrupted only by short plays with the tiger. Unfortunately, Jinu stubbornly refused every idea related to crossing Honmoon. He kept mumbling something about ‘winter’ and terrible weather. He hadn’t explained what winter even was, and Rumi found the excuse of bad weather a bit strange. After all, the human world wasn’t persistent like The Realm—it changed constantly. Even she knew that. It was one of the reasons she loved the human world so much. One moment it was so bright and warm it hurt her eyes and made sweat trickle down her back, and the next it was swallowed by darkness, with countless stars glittering across the sky. So that cold wind must have vanished already... right?

“No, you’re not going anywhere. You don’t have the proper clothes,” he said, throwing her a look that made her shrink. She really hadn’t meant to ruin that hoodie. In her defense, it was still wearable, just... colored a bit differently now. “Besides, I know you’re not hungry. You ate not that long ago.”

He put the fabric down and tapped his claws on the tabletop. Rumi folded her arms across her chest and let out a disgruntled huff.

“And I have a few matters to handle at the palace.”

A shiver ran down Rumi’s spine. Palace matters were never pleasant. Jinu seemed to notice her discomfort. He gave her a warm smile and stood up from the table.

“Don’t worry, you’re staying here. That's some adult business.”

Suddenly, staying in the hut didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Rumi had been left alone quite often lately. Not for long, Jinu would leave the hut and return before she even fell sleep, but he never brought back any souls or gifts. Rumi knew that sometimes raid planning could stretch out, but it had never taken this long before. When she asked about it, she got only a vague answer about ‘big changes.’

Jinu folded the fabric into a neat square and tucked it into the closet. Rumi watched him closely as he bustled around the hut, clearly looking for something. He was completely unaware of Sussie, who had cozily settled herself on top of his head.

Rumi covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Jinu, with a tiny hat perched on his head, looked ridiculous. Especially as he stared down at the box in his hands, as if it had gravely offended him.

“Do you remember where I put the spare strings?” he asked, now crouching by the chest. He held a teddy bear in one hand, a handful of wooden blocks in the other. He tossed them back into the chest and ran his fingers through his hair. “I was certain- Get off me!” 

Sussie chirped, snapped her beak at Jinu's hand, and flew onto Rumi's shoulder. A hiss came from her tiny body, and all six of her eyes narrowed dangerously. Rumi stroked her belly, her finger sinking into the soft feathers, making Sussie trill again, this time filled with contentment.

“There they are!” Jinu nearly cried with joy, clutching the strings tightly to his chest as if they might vanish again at any moment. He turned to Rumi, squinting. “I'm leaving, you stay. You know the rules—Sussie’s in charge. I’ll be back soon.”

 

---

 

“What’s up, Snip?” the pink-haired demon grinned, baring his fangs.

He was here again. In their hut. And if you asked Rumi, he was way too comfortable. Too casual. And definitely showed up far too often. The unpleasant feeling deepened when he sat at the table and dared to move her teddy bear. Her beloved teddy bear, the one Jinu had found in a mysterious place called the marketplace.

She bared her teeth, a low growl rising in her throat.

The demon immediately raised his hands in surrender. The bear was returned to its rightful place.

“Oh-ho, someone’s in a mood today,” he laughed.

A dry snap echoed through the hut as Jinu closed the lid of the chest.

“Hyun, stop teasing her,” he said, then walked over to Rumi and flicked her ear. She squeaked in surprise. “And you- You don’t growl at invited guests. That’s rude. You’re not an animal.”

She rubbed her ear, keeping her eyes fixed on the strange demon. His smile was too odd for Rumi to ignore.

He ran his fingers through his hair and leaned against the hut’s wall. His hat lay on the table.

“Exactly, it's not nice to growl at your uncle.”

“Uncle?” she echoed, blinking like an owl.

She knew that word. In the human world, some of the children she’d met spoke of their uncles. She’d deduced they were someone like the parents. Maybe like a father? She couldn’t quite place it, but children always shared this joy, which made Rumi feel a gnawing sensation in her chest. It bubbled and spread until it felt like it might swallow her whole, and her human fingernails dug painfully into the flesh of her palms.

“Uncle,” he nodded, pointing to himself with a clawed thumb. “This very demon will be the greatest uncle known in The Realm and the human world. I’ve done some research and I already know what I need to do. So get ready Snip for an unforgettable time with your best and most magnificent Uncle Number One.”

Silence fell over the hut. Jinu froze mid-motion, staring at the demon with an unreadable expression. Even the tiger and Sussie stopped whatever they were doing, the red string suspended between them, forgotten.

The demon looked around at everyone expectantly. Jinu was the first to move.

“Hyun. A word.”

He grabbed the demon by the arm and dragged him out of the hut without ceremony, ignoring his surprised protests. The door slammed shut behind them, the sound ringing loud in the sudden silence. Rumi exchanged a glance with Sussie, then quietly slid off her mattress. Her bare feet made no sound as she approached the door. She pressed her ear against it and held her breath.

Jinu’s voice was muffled, but if she strained her ears hard enough, she could make out the individual words.

“...no outings to the human world. Don’t approach other demons—especially the water ones—and most importantly, stay away from the palace.”

The second demon’s voice came through clearer, as if he were standing closer to the door. “Geez, what’s the kid supposed to do? Watch the wood rot? Dude, chill.”

“You can read her a book or play a game with her.”

The hut’s wall creaked, as if something heavy had leaned against it.

“Boooring.”

“Just be creative, but…”

“Oh please, I’m very creative! Creativity is my middle name!”

“I thought it was Abby?”

“No, that’s more of a vibe.”

No one spoke for a moment. A loud sigh came from behind the door.

“Whatever. Just don’t get too creative. Not a single hair is to fall from her head.”

Silence settled again on the other side, only to be gently stirred by dull talk about raids—each word fading bit by bit into quiet.

Rumi shifted uncomfortably, biting her lip. It sounded like Jinu was about to leave. Again. But why was he telling this demon the same rules Rumi always repeated? She knew them perfectly well. She’d been left in the hut with Sussie and the tiger for as long as she could remember. Jinu always called her a responsible child, and she knew that was a good word.

Why then did she feel as if she’d just stood before the Advisor? A chill trickled down her back, settling in her stomach like stones too heavy to carry. She dug her fingernails into the floorboards, splinters stabbing into her skin. Her thoughts buzzed like a swarm of wasps, yet felt distant, as if they were reaching her from a place far, far away.

Why did she feel like this? And why had she suddenly thought of her parents?

Her human mom had died, and she knew nothing about her dad—he might be dead, or perhaps simply wanted nothing to do with a half-demon. They were like illustrations in a book—maybe they existed somewhere, but in the end, to Rumi, they were nothing more than curiosities. Like shadows glimpsed out of the corner of an eye, or words carried away by the wind.

She knew this wasn’t normal. All the children she’d met had two parents—a mom and a dad. But Rumi? Rumi only had Jinu, the tiger, and Sussie.

Her hand went to her chest. What was that feeling? It burned and gnawed, and it wasn’t pleasant at all.

Unless...

Rumi froze as a single, deeply disturbing thought entered her mind.

What if Jinu was going to leave forever? Just like her parents had?

Her eyes stung as tears began to gather. She curled up in a ball against the wall, arms tightly wrapped around her knees. Sussie landed softly on her shoulder, pressing her tiny head to Rumi’s cheek with a quiet chirp. The tiger sat beside her and ran his rough tongue across her face. The tears vanished, replaced by sticky saliva. Normally, Rumi would giggle at the gesture, but this time, she wrapped her small arms around the tiger’s neck and buried her face in his soft fur.

Was Jinu trying to get rid of her because she didn’t read as well as she was supposed to? She’d study harder. She wouldn’t complain anymore.

Or maybe it was because she’d climbed the cupboard and knocked down that little clay container, shattering it into tiny pieces? It was an accident, she just couldn’t reach it.

Was it because she growled at that demon? She didn’t mean to. But in that moment, it felt right—he had touched her bear.

She’d do better. She had to.

Chapter 6

She stared for a long time at the spot where Jinu had disappeared. The red cloud had long since dissolved into the air, leaving behind only a barren, gray landscape, but Rumi couldn’t look away. It was as if some invisible force held her still, refusing to let a single muscle move.

Somehow, she knew this wasn’t the day Jinu would disappear forever. But that knowledge brought no comfort. Her stomach twisted into an unpleasant knot at the thought of the days to come.

She clenched her fingers around the too-short sleeves and with incredible effort turned her head toward the hut.

The door stood wide open. Dust and gray sand rolled inside, gathering in the cracks between the floorboards and in the corners beneath the walls. Never before had the dark interior felt so unwelcoming. So unfamiliar. So lonely.

Rumi took a trembling breath. She was supposed to move—she had a plan to carry out—but suddenly it felt too vast, and her feet too heavy. Her gaze landed on the broom leaning against the wall, and her fingers dug deeper into the gray fabric of her hanbok.

She would prove to Jinu that he shouldn’t have left her.

Clenching her teeth, she finally managed to lift her feet from the ground.

There was always a certain kind of neatness in the hut, but it was never truly clean—every object had its place and was kept in the best possible condition, yet dust and ash were everywhere. Rumi knew that humans kept their homes spotless, with gleaming floors and bright furniture. How she envied them.

In The Realm, that kind of cleanliness was impossible. Dust, ash, and dirt floated through the air, seeping into every crevice and clinging to everything. Only the palace was truly clean. Its floors gleamed so brilliantly that one could see oneself reflected in them as if in a mirror. The walls were covered in mosaics so vivid their colors seemed to burn the eyes, and every ornament sparkled in the light like the finest metals, untouched by the dark stains that marked everything else.

If not for the presence of powerful demons, Rumi would have visited the palace just to admire its beauty.

She adjusted her grip on the broom handle. It was taller than she stood, and holding it comfortably was nearly impossible, but no matter what, she had to carry out her plan.

She began to sweep awkwardly. The thin bristles scraped against the floorboards, pushing out the dark dust. Some of it slipped into the cracks, stubbornly refusing to leave the hut, while other clumps rose into the air, swirling aimlessly with no intention of reaching the door.

She clenched her teeth as her irritation with the defiant dust turned into a slow, rising growl. Rumi knew she shouldn’t growl. Jinu didn’t approve of it, and she had no intention of disappointing him.

The stiffness in her arms from holding them up for so long intensified as the layer of dust began to vanish. Rumi didn’t let it stop her. Nor did the burning gaze of Sussie, which drilled mercilessly into the back of her neck as she stubbornly ignored the magpie’s calls.

At one point, she even swung the broom in Sussie’s direction and now she was doing her best not to think about the magpie’s revenge (it was supposed to be terrifying).

She swept until the floorboards finally showed through and… Oh, they were much lighter than she’d expected.

Once the floor was acceptably clean, cleaner than it had ever been, at least in Rumi’s memory, she could turn her attention to organizing things. She sorted the books by topic, then alphabetically. At least, she tried to. There were only a few, but the long titles and her still-poor-at-best reading skills slowed the whole process.

Then she placed the toys into the chest, reluctantly made the bed the way she’d seen people do it (she would miss her nest of tangled blankets, but Jinu mattered more), and moved the spare parts for the bipa into the closet. She had to ask the tiger for help and climb onto his back to reach the shelf—after all, she didn’t want to break anything again.

The hut gleamed with a cleanliness like never before. How lovely it would be if this state could last a little longer. Just a few days. Long enough for Rumi to wake up and admire the knots in the floorboards, or place her teddy bear on them without worrying that its fur would turn an ugly, gray shade.

Rumi rubbed her eyes with her fists, her eyelids growing heavier, but she couldn't go to sleep yet. She had promised Jinu she’d read at least one page of the book. So she reached for her favorite animal atlas from the shelf. The corners of the cover were beginning to peel, some pages barely clung to the binding, and their edges were frayed and worn.

She opened the atlas to a random page. Her eyes landed on a photograph of a hairy creature with eight limbs and massive black fangs. Rumi knew it was a spider, but it looked different from the ones she’d seen in the human world. It seemed enormous. Would its legs tickle the same way as those of smaller spiders if it walked across her arm? Or maybe its fur, so beautifully tinged with red, would be just as soft as the tiger’s?

Her gaze shifted to the heading. Redknee tarantula. So spiders had knees too.

Jinu returned when Rumi was halfway through the page.

“Hey, you're still up?”

He placed his hat on top of the closet and sat down beside her, glancing curiously around the hut. Rumi sniffed. A sharp, sweet scent clung to Jinu, along with something else, equally unpleasant—smells that always evoked the palace and its inhabitants.

“I haven’t finished reading yet,” she mumbled, fighting her drooping eyelids.

“You’ll finish tomorrow,” Jinu said, snatching the book, deaf to her protests. “You’re falling asleep sitting up. Go to bed.”

He nudged her toward the mattress. Rumi clutched the sleeve of his hanbok. She wrinkled her nose at the unfamiliar scent, her back tensed uncomfortably, but she didn’t let go.

“Rumi?”

She pressed her toes into the crack between the floorboards, gathering the courage to speak her next words.

“Can you… Can you sleep in my bed with me?”

He did. She nestled her nose against his chest. If she focused hard enough, beneath the strange sweetness she could still catch that familiar scent of ash and flowers.

 

Rumi repeated her new routine exactly three times, each time feeling more tired and more unhappy. On the fourth day, Jinu returned to the hut much earlier than usual and that set off all the warning bells. His jaw was clenched, and Rumi noticed the muscles twitching.

“Okay, what's going on?”

“Cleaning.” She replied, looking anywhere but at Jinu's intense gaze.

He leaned over her and sniffed. Rumi’s fingers tightened around the broom handle.

“Rumi,” his voice took on a dangerous tone.

Rumi shifted and timidly met Jinu’s face. It was twisted with worry. He'd been worrying a lot lately.

Her lips trembled, an unpleasant twinge behind her eyes. The next moment, she heard the broom clatter to the floor and felt soft fabric against her cheeks.

“Don’t leave me,” she murmured into his robe, her voice choked, clutching tightly at his hanbok. “I’ll be better, I promise. Just don’t leave me. I’ll learn. I won’t drop things. I won’t growl! Just stay. I don’t want to be with that demon. I-”

“Okay, okay. Slow down, Rumi. Breathe,” clawed hands rubbed gentle circles into her back. “I won’t leave you. I could never leave you. You’re family.”

Strong arms wrapped around Rumi.

“Y-you promise?”

“I promise. It’s just a slightly longer raid. I’ll be back as soon as it’s over.”

Rumi let out a relieved, shuddering breath. She bit her lip and tilted her head back enough to look at him.

“Why can’t I stay with just Sussie and the tiger?” she asked after a long moment.

Jinu picked her up. He hadn’t done that in a while. Rumi nestled her cheek into the crook of his neck, where his scent was strongest—homey, untouched by the palace.

“Tiger will accompany me on the raid,” he explained, heading toward the table. Rumi didn’t like that. She tightened her little arms around his neck, as if that could stop him from leaving. “I don’t want you to be alone for so long, and Hyun’s not that bad. He’ll keep you company and take you out for food through Honmoon if you get hungry.”

“I’d rather go with you.”

“I know, but I have duties.” He tapped her nose with a claw. “When I get back, we’ll go eat bulgogi. Deal?”

Rumi nodded eagerly. She loved human food, and meat was better than anything else. Except maybe ramyeon.

 

---

 

The pink-haired demon sat cross-legged before her, a smug grin never leaving his face. His yellow eyes glowed in the dim light of the hut. Rumi felt her own eyes begin to water, but she didn’t dare be the first to blink.

She clenched her teeth and swallowed the growl rising in her throat. The demon’s grin widened, clearly amused by her struggle to stay silent. That only irritated her more. She gripped the loose fabric of her pants and held her breath, as if that could somehow help.

She wouldn’t lose. She wouldn’t blink. She wouldn’t-

Blink.

“Ha! I won!” The demon jumped up, fists thrown triumphantly into the air.

“Nooo!” Rumi groaned, burying her face in her hands and curling up on the hard floor.

This had to be another bad dream. One of the many that haunted her. There was no other explanation.

“Alright, Snip, up you go. Today we’re doing my idea!”

He leaned over her like a massive shadow. Rumi parted her fingers just enough to peek through them, and a growl slipped from her throat. The demon tapped her forehead with a claw.

“Tsk-tsk, no growling. You know the rules—you lost, so I get to report everything to Jinu.”

Rumi clenched her teeth, swallowing every sound that tried to escape. She hated this demon and his stupid games. Why would anyone play not-blinking? Or any of the ridiculous games he came up with? Rumi always lost anyway.

Her eyes found Sussie perched atop the closet, but the magpie just shrugged her wings, as if to say it wasn’t her problem.

Traitor.

“Come on, get moving before you have to sleep again.” The demon jabbed her in the side with a claw, sending a shiver down her spine and drawing a quiet squeak. He stood up, slung a small bag over his shoulder, and headed for the door without even glancing at her. She only caught his muttering as he left the hut: “Sleep, who needs it? So many cool things you miss because of it…”

Rumi sighed. She'd poured all the drama a child could muster into it. Why did Jinu have to pick this demon to look after her? She was old enough to take care of herself. She always had been. Sussie’s help was enough. Even if the demon—whose name she refused to speak—was kind of funny, she still didn’t like him. Just couldn’t.

Rumi glanced at the demon suspiciously from the corner of her eye. So far, he kept refusing to take her to the human world, dragging her instead to places in The Realm she’d never seen before. It wasn’t even that bad, though today her stomach was making unusually loud complaints about its growing hunger.

 

The cave the demon called his home was actually pretty cool, Rumi had to admit it. She’d never had so much fun squeezing through dark corridors or crawling through tight tunnels. The demon even let her chase mischievous spirits. Sometimes (almost always), they turned out to be faster than her, or would suddenly become immaterial at the last second. Then she had to keep chasing them. But Rumi liked it. It reminded her of catching shadows with Jinu.

Less fun was the part when the spirits noticed her, completely unfazed by her human appearance. Their ugly faces twisted into mocking grins, and they made rude gestures before either vanishing or throwing whatever they had on hand at her. Usually, it was stones.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” the demon—unfortunately also her guardian—shook his head as another spirit slipped away with a mischievous giggle. “That’s not how you do it.”

Rumi wanted to growl at him, but stopped herself at the last moment. Instead, she clenched one hand into a fist and rubbed the spot on her chest where the stone had struck her with the other.

“So how am I supposed to do it?” Not good, her voice was still thick with the suppressed growl.

“Let yourself go! You can growl, snarl, bite, scratch, tear… Anything that helps you catch them. You’re a demon, show them they have to take you seriously.”

He shrugged like it was the easiest thing in the world. Rumi bit her lip and frowned, staring into one of the dark tunnels.

“But Jinu doesn’t let me growl…”

“Jinu doesn’t let you growl at guests. Those little shits are pests. You want to be a strong demon? Show them they can’t mess with you!” Rumi still didn’t look convinced. The demon sighed, clearly trying to suppress his irritation. “For every one you catch, I'll buy you dinner in the human world. Deal?”

He didn’t need to say anything more. Rumi launched herself after the spirits with renewed energy. She quickly found her first target. Hidden in the shadows, she pressed herself flat against the ground. Muscles taut, every movement careful, deliberate, and silent. So different from the storm raging inside her—from the heart pounding at a frantic pace, from the strange, primal joy that was so sweet and liberating, yet still held back, as if on a leash.

The world narrowed to just the spirit in front of her. It was small, barely her height, with broad shoulders, legs too short, and a large, angular head. It hadn’t seen her. It stood with its back to her, hunched over, muttering to itself in a language only it understood. Every now and then, its gibberish was interrupted by a high-pitched giggle that hurt her ears.

Rumi tensed. The spirit kicked a stone and bounced in place, giggling. The moment its feet left the ground for the second time, Rumi leapt. Arms outstretched, fingers splayed. They tumbled across the rocky earth. The spirit let out a squeal that made Rumi’s heart flutter even faster.

The world dissolved into growls and panicked squeals. Stones dug into Rumi’s body as they rolled across the ground. Something tore the sleeve of her hanbok. A sharp pain exploded in the same spot.

The leash snapped. The joy was blinding.

Rumi growled and sank her teeth into the spirit’s shoulder.

The spirit tried to break free. It squirmed and thrashed, squealing at the top of its lungs. It sounded almost like music. In that moment, the most beautiful and sweetest thing Rumi had ever heard.

She clenched her jaws even tighter. The thick skin gave way. A dense, bitter liquid flowed down her throat. It burned unpleasantly, but she didn’t let go.

She could hold him. Her too-human fingers tried to dig into the tough skin. Instead, they wrapped around the rough fabric. Another growl escaped her throat.

Just a little more. She could hold him. She could-

Something hard and angular slammed into her stomach. Dark spots danced before her eyes. Air rushed out of her lungs, and with it, her jaws sprang open.

Rumi rolled across the ground, gasping for breath. She blinked and looked around the cave. She was alone. Her body ached, her arm throbbed with sharp pain, her throat burned. With effort, she sat back on her heels and spat out the thick liquid. It tasted foul and smelled just as bad. Rumi was horrified to discover that she was covered in it—the entire front of her hanbok, her hands, and judging by the sticky feeling on her neck and face, it was there too.

That’s how the demon found her. He tilted his head, studying her with interest. Rumi lowered her gaze, unable to bear his stare. She had failed. Again.

The demon crouched in front of her and grabbed her hand—the one where red shone through the black blood of the spirit.

“Not bad for a first time, Snip,” he said with a wide grin, pulling something from her forearm. A hiss escaped through her clenched teeth. Something was pressed into her palm—a spirit’s claw, no bigger than her pinky. “A souvenir. Next time, use your teeth faster.”

Later that same day, the black claw hung from a thin leather cord at Rumi’s waist, and her arm was wrapped in the remnants of her torn hanbok.

Another time, the demon took her deeper into the mountains. Climbing the cliff at the pass was exhausting, leaving her with aching shoulders and a strangely satisfying feeling deep in her chest. It wasn’t easy, but the view of the abyss stretching below was mesmerizing, making her heart flutter harder. From here, she could even see the pits of the faceless demons.

Rumi’s fingers barely managed to grip the protruding rocks, digging into cracks. Her feet slipped off their supports more than once, but that didn’t lessen the fun—at least not until a loose stone slid from beneath her hand and she fell with it from the rocky ledge. The demon caught her at the very last moment, just above the ground, and all the pleasant sensations vanished as easily as the red cloud of teleportation.

Rumi decided the cave was a hundred times better, even if the view from the top of the cliff was incredible and Sussie was quite charming in her attempt to peck the demon to death.

 

Now they were heading toward the mountains again. Ruined gates and columns dotted the landscape. In the distance, she saw puddles and pools, yellow eyes of water demons flickering, waiting for a tear in Honmoon large enough to slip into the human world.

Rumi quickened her pace, brushing a few tangled strands from her face. Her hair had grown long enough that leaving it loose made movement difficult.

“Will you braid it for me?” She asked cautiously, hopping down from a rocky ledge, careful not to step on any sharp stones.

The demon gave her a strange look.

“Wouldn’t you rather cut it? With short hair, you could look just as good as your uncle.”

“Never!” She stomped her foot, horrified by the very idea. The demon didn’t slow down, so she had to hurry to catch up. “I like braids. They’re pretty and Jinu knows how to braid them.”

“Yeah, I’ve got more interesting things to do than learn how to braid hair…”

Rumi shrugged, feeling a surge of pride in Jinu’s skill. After all, he was her older brother—he could do and knew everything.

“Jinu had been in a hair salon until Honmoon pulled him back into The Realm,” the demon snorted in reply. A moment later, his fangs gleamed in a wide grin that sent a chill down Rumi’s spine. “He vanished so suddenly that some human had a heart attack!”

Rumi furrowed her brows, chasing after the demon. His legs were definitely too long.

“What’s a heart attack?”

“A human heart failure. They’re so weak they die from the smallest things,” he shrugged and stepped up to the edge of the cliff. “I guess seeing someone pulled into The Realm could trigger something like that. Kind of funny, isn’t it?”

“So- So Jinu killed someone? Her little legs refused to move any further.”

“Uhh... No? It’s just human weirdness. You should know that by now, Snip. They die all the time for the dumbest reasons. Consider it a natural death... Actually, most deaths can be considered natural if you’re creative enough.” He leaned over the abyss, whistled sharply, and started walking along the edge. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

Rumi watched the demon’s retreating back. It wasn’t until Sussie pinched her ear that she was forced to keep moving. Reluctantly, she followed the demon, keeping as far from the edge as possible. It wasn’t easy. The lower they descended, the narrower and steeper the path became, and the bottom was still hidden in a darkness so thick Rumi couldn’t see anything beyond the black.

She stepped carefully. Demons usually preferred teleportation over walking, but unfortunately, Rumi didn’t have that option. Jinu would normally grab her by the shoulders and vanish with her into the red mist, only to reappear somewhere entirely different. The demon ahead of her moved solely on his own legs. When she finally dared to ask him why, he snorted loudly, the sound echoing off the mountains.

“And lose this gorgeous body?”

Rumi had no idea what he was talking about. To her, he looked like any other reaper. Maybe a bit taller and broader in the shoulders, but no two demons looked exactly alike anyway.

“You’re weird,” she said, frowning.

He just shrugged, not even glancing back at her.

“Everyone’s weird.”

They were already low enough that the only sources of light were the dark red sky and thin, pale blue threads of Honmoon. The King’s light was completely blocked by a tall stone wall. The path was quiet. Quieter than most of The Realm. And The Realm was usually very quiet. There were no children’s calls here, no birdsong, no cars or other loud machines.

Rumi hissed when an especially sharp stone pierced her foot. She poured all her irritation into a kick, watching it tumble straight into the abyss, bouncing off the rocky wall with a rhythmic clatter until a faint splash reached her ears.

Something flickered in the depths— pink, blue, and a touch of white.

“What is that…?”

She leaned over the edge. She squinted, catching more flickers. It looked a bit like stars on a cloudy night, but there were no stars in The Realm. Especially not on the ground.

She leaned just a little farther. She could make out sharp lines and-

She felt the earth slip from beneath her feet. The world tilted, as if in slow motion. Rumi barely had time to register that she was falling into the dark abyss when something yanked her collar and pulled her backward.

With brutal force, she landed on her backside on the narrow path. Her heart pounded wildly, thudding in her ears, she could feel it in her throat. She heard the beat of Sussie’s wings and her frantic chirping.

“Geez, what are you? Six? How the hell are you still alive, Snip?

The demon twisted his face in disbelief, but Rumi paid no attention. She ignored the mention of ‘six’ whatever that was supposed to mean. If the situation had been a little different, Rumi probably would’ve laughed at his expression. But now was not the time. Her hands were still shaking as she tried to brace herself against the wall behind her.

“Jinu owes me one hell of a favor…”

Notes:

Abby: Guys, do you think she’ll like my fun plan? What if she gets bored? Human attractions don’t quite match what The Realm has to offer... What if she ends up hating me?
Saja Boys: Your only job is to keep her alive. Everything else is just a bonus.
Abby: Right, her previous babysitters were a magpie and a tiger. How hard can it be?

Chapter 7

Reaching the very bottom of the chasm almost brought Rumi to tears of joy. If she was on solid ground, with no cliff edge, then she couldn’t fall any further— a simple truth she’d repeated over and over during the final stretch of the descent.

It was a good thing the demon walked ahead of her, so he couldn’t see how tightly her hands were clutching the hem of her shirt.

The place was… strange. Somehow, it felt different from the rest of The Realm. Maybe it was the restless vibrations in the air, or the sensation of odd static tension— like one she felt when she pressed her hand to the screen of the large boxes that showed pictures in the human world.

Jagged rocks jutted from the ground like giant, curved fangs or twisted claws. Somewhere far off between them, a light flickered, now it seemed more blue-white than pink. It glowed almost like Honmoon, but the one on the other side— more alive and welcoming than its side in The Realm. If Rumi focused hard enough, she could even feel a similar buzzing, though it felt like a mere shadow of what she’d sensed in the human world. Barely a whisper, as quiet as the wind’s murmur, too faint to make out any words.

“This way.”

The demon moved along the narrow path. Rumi followed, casting wary glances at the black shadows. They shimmered and shifted with every flicker of light. Stones and sand crunched beneath her feet, the larger ones digging unpleasantly into her skin.

She caught her foot on a stone. It rolled across the path and disappeared into the darkness with a splash.

Rumi froze, her breath caught in her throat. Water. The black spots were water. And water always harbored water demons— those with long, slick, and cold fingers that mercilessly clamped onto limbs and dragged their victims into the murky depths.

She swallowed and instantly closed the distance to the demon’s side. She was so close that his hanbok brushed against her hand.

She felt his gaze on her. She clenched her jaw and lifted her chin. She wasn't afraid at all. It was just an ordinary caution.

“Chill, Snip. We're alone here,” he laughed, brushing aside the hanging growths that blocked the path. Rumi followed him.

The vines were unnaturally dark, as if they somehow absorbed the light around them, and they swayed gently, even though there was no wind in The Realm. In a wrong, slightly frightening way, they resembled tree branches. Rumi ran her hand along one of the vines. It wasn’t warm or cold, it was just there. Pressure without any texture.

A bright light, too bright for The Realm, flickered between the vines, nearly blinding Rumi.

“What is this place?” She asked, once her eyes had somewhat adjusted to the pale blue glow. She still had to raise her hand to shield them.

It looked like a star— huge, radiant, and humming, suspended between the rocks. The water beneath it rippled gently, reflecting dancing patterns. The splash of the waves felt… out of place. Maybe it had gotten lost in The Realm after falling from the night sky? Rumi knew that sometimes stars fall. But why did it hum so much like Honmoon?

Rumi blinked, suddenly aware of the water surrounding her ankles, soaking into the legs of her pants, leaving behind an unpleasant feeling of dampness. Why was the star so close? Barely within arm’s reach. When had Rumi walked up to it?

She swallowed and quickly retreated to where the demon was leaning against one of the rocks, lazily watching her with his eyes.

“It’s the passage to the other side. The only point in Honmoon we can cross without a tear.”

Rumi chewed the inside of her cheek, glancing at the star again. If this place allowed passage through Honmoon, why was no one here? It should be, right after the palace, the most important place in The Realm. That way, they could finally defeat the huntresses. Even Rumi knew that.

“Then why don’t the other demons use it?”

The demon clapped so suddenly and loudly that Rumi jumped. The sound echoed like a boom in the silence surrounding them, ringing in her ears and reverberating for a long time off the rocks.

“And here's the best part! This beautiful anomaly leads straight to the huntresses’ lair! Funny how…”

Suddenly, the place lost its beauty. The demon’s voice turned into a static hum. Could the huntresses cross into The Realm? Probably not—their goal was to eliminate demons from the human world. But just to be sure, Rumi stepped back a few more paces. Caution was always good. And if the demon stood between her and the passage, that only made her feel more at ease.

“…so even if you cross to the other side, the talismans will block you. BUT! I, Hyun, your magnificent uncle, know how to bypass that inconvenience” he flashed his fangs, opened his bag, and pulled out a pair of shoes. “Put them on.”

Rumi was so caught up in the fact that they were going to the human world—right under the huntresses’ noses, no less—that she barely managed to catch the shoes before they landed in the water. Then the demon unceremoniously pulled a fluffy hoodie over her head and placed a warm, yellow beanie on it. Sussie pecked at him with her beak when he nearly knocked the magpie off Rumi’s shoulder.

Rumi stared in awe at the colorful clothes. It was the first time she had ever seen such things.

“I’d be a terrible uncle if I didn’t provide the proper clothes” the demon replied to her silent question, clearly pleased with himself. He grabbed Rumi by the hood and pulled her closer. She could feel his claws on the back of her neck. “Now, the most important part. First, you don’t tell anyone about this place. It’s a secret. Very… private.”

Rumi nodded obediently. The demon’s yellow eyes gleamed dangerously, a silent threat if she ever betrayed the secret.

“Second, we’re looking for the nearest dying human. Focus on Honmoon. You’ll know when it’s the right one. It’s a very specific feeling.”

Rumi swallowed. Her eyes drifted toward the star as she obediently sharpened all her senses. The humming of Honmoon grew stronger, but no matter how hard Rumi focused on the sound, it didn’t resemble the song she had heard in the human world. Instead, a static buzz distorted the sound, making Rumi’s hands go numb, her teeth rattle, and her gums itch. As if Honmoon disagreed with what she was trying to do. Eventually, it became so unbearable that she had to cover her ears.

“There it is!” The demon’s voice tore through the buzzing like thunder.

He yanked her hood, Rumi stumbled, and suddenly the world around her dissolved into colors of white, blue, pink, and red.

 

---

 

The human world had changed again. Now it was gray, yet somehow incredibly vivid. Dark, navy blue clouds covered the sky, and only far off on the horizon, where massive billows drifted lazily, the pink-gold sky occasionally peeked through in the shape of a radiant crown.

The trees were bare and stripped of color. Flowers and leaves had vanished. The grass had lost its lush green hue. The grayness swallowed Sussie as she perched on a naked branch, only her yellow eyes stood out.

The terrifyingly cold wind had disappeared, replaced by damp, still chilly, but distinctly fresher air. It smelled of earth, rain, and something else Rumi couldn’t quite place, but it was far more pleasant than the stench of passing cars. The smoke they left behind clung to her nose, making her stomach tighten in a silent threat of revolt. She opened her mouth, trying to breathe through it, but it didn’t help at all.

Now the stench settled on her tongue and throat. Ew.

Wrinkling her nose, Rumi tilted her head back, gazing at the massive buildings. The one they stood beside was the largest. For a moment, the clouds parted, and the light breaking through illuminated the building’s walls and reflected off the windows. The sight was almost magical—a glowing wall of concrete against a dark blue sky.

“Ah yes, hospitals…” The demon took a deep breath, like a human enjoying fresh air for the first time in a while. There was no way Rumi would mimic that gesture, not with so many cars nearby.

The demon wasn’t wearing a human disguise. His grayish-purple skin, fangs, markings, and black hanbok stood out painfully, yet none of the passing people paid him the slightest attention. Their gaze passed right through him, pausing briefly on Rumi before quickly darting away to some point known only to them.

They didn’t see him. No one did except for a small boy, much younger than Rumi, who pointed at the demon and let out a series of unintelligible sounds. He was swiftly hushed by his guardians, and the trio disappeared around the corner.

The demon’s voice once again drew Rumi’s attention.

“Remember this, Snip,” he said. “These places are soul mines. A buffet! A banquet table fit for a king! The people inside are just waiting for us to come and take what’s rightfully ours.” He threw his arms into the air as if trying to embrace the entire building. “Now come on—duties first, pleasures later.”

She obediently followed him, though something clenched unpleasantly in her chest as Honmoon hummed uneasily. She rubbed her chest, frowning. Why couldn’t Honmoon accept that this was a reaper’s duty? If only it understood that it was the huntresses who were the evil ones, everything would be easier.

The inside of the hospital was cold. Not like the air outside— more like a chill that settled at the back of the head, making the skin crawl and the eyes dart around in search of danger. It shouldn’t have felt that way.

The interior was clean, and Rumi didn’t find the decor unpleasant. The walls were light-colored, plastic chairs in pastel tones stood in neat rows, occupied by a few scattered people. Long lamps on the ceiling shone with a harsh white light, stinging Rumi’s eyes. There were even large plants with broad, green leaves in the corners.

But the smell… The smell was the worst.

The moment Rumi walked through the door, a stench so dreadful hit her that she stumbled over her own feet. People always smelled of life. She liked that scent—warm like sunlight on skin, gentle like a breeze. But here? The people in weird robes moved as if they held all the energy in the world, and yet there was no scent of life. A terrifying, distorted emptiness— too sharp, too sterile, laced with something chemical and undercut by the rotting stench of illness that nothing could mask. It was wrong. Deeply wrong.

It crawled across her skin, soaked into her bones, clung to her nose and throat. It was everywhere. People and their homes should never smell like this.

Rumi flinched as a hand landed on her shoulder, the claws digging in just enough for her to feel their sharpness, but not enough to tear through the fabric. “Wait here and try to stay low.”

The demon’s voice left no room for argument, so Rumi merely nodded reluctantly, watching as he disappeared up the stairs.

 

Rumi sighed, swinging her legs. Being alone and motionless in a closed-in place full of people was unsettling. She knew the demon was somewhere nearby, and Sussie was keeping watch outside, but that didn’t calm her in the slightest. The faint scent of home—ash and sulfur—clinging to her clothes didn’t help either. Not the way she wanted it to. She felt exposed, as if at any moment, from any direction, an unexpected attack could strike. Her fingers tingled, and her muscles were tense, ready to spring into action. She hadn’t expected the wall behind her to be such a comfort, people didn’t walk through walls, so it felt like the safest option.

She held her breath, counted to five, and very slowly exhaled.

After a while, the plastic chair became uncomfortable, and watching people—once their movements grew predictable and the amusing flinches each time they met her gaze turned dull and repetitive—offered only so much entertainment. On top of that, one of the ceiling lights kept flickering, which endlessly irritated Rumi and the plastic chair became the unwilling recipient of those feelings.

She let her gaze drift once more over the humans gathered in the room. She was mostly surrounded by adults. A young man sat down near her, turning a flat object over in his hands. He poked it with a finger, and moments later a rhythmic sound emerged. 

Rumi welcomed the distraction in the form of music with delight. Too bad the man quickly poked the object again, this time with a black string, and the sounds fell silent. She tried not to show her disappointment. Instead, she found amusement in the man’s face, which suddenly turned redder than the sky in The Realm. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and just as quickly, the red gave way to a sickly gray.

She hadn’t known humans could change colors. Fascinating.

Eventually, even that man became boring. She turned her head, and before she realized it, she began to hum. The melody was too bouncy and chaotic to be one of Jinu’s songs, so she must have heard it somewhere in the human world. Too bad she couldn’t remember the words.

That was enough for Honmoon. Its blue threads rippled, wrapping around Rumi’s outstretched fingers. Their earlier unease faded slightly, replaced by something almost homely and protective.

You’re here. Stay, stay, stay and sing, sing, sing , he hummed, winding around her even tighter.

“Why won’t you let Jinu be here?” she whispered. She ran her hand over Honmoon, and the lines shifted beneath her fingers like ripples on water, but no answer came.

She sighed, lowering her hand and gripping the edge of the chair again. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Rumi's head snapped toward the group of people in robes when she heard the crash of something falling. The woman disappeared behind a tall counter, but a moment later she reappeared, presenting a small, narrow object in her hand. The people around her laughed, and she joined in with them before they returned to their work.

Rumi furrowed her brows. She knew that people loved being in each other’s company, she had realized that some time ago. Some sought physical touch, others kept their distance, yet they still exchanged glances and words. It all looked so easy and natural, but Rumi suspected there were rules she didn’t know. How else could they tell who they could touch, who they could smile at, and before whom they should bow? They all looked alike—there were no differences in the colors of their robes, the number of horns, or the decorations they wore.

Rumi assumed they were some complicated rules; The Realm had its own as well. Rules that Jinu had taught her and demanded she strictly follow. After all, life depended on them. And Rumi didn't want to die.

Show no weakness. Do not stand out. Serve.

She didn’t think humans followed such rules. In this building, this hospital, weakness was written on almost every person, and each of them wanted to be noticed. Exhaustion, fear, pain, tears… Why did they wear it all so openly? Were they seeking death? Or maybe this building was designed for that very purpose? The demon had mentioned that hospitals were a place of feasting... But why would they want death?

Movement. Not the kind people in plastic chairs used to move. Purposeful, at the edge of their field of vision, heading straight towards Rumi.

All her muscles tensed, her eyes fixed on the approaching human. Rumi didn’t move, even when the woman stepped between her and the door. After all, there was still another door—the one the demon had disappeared behind. She would find him, even if she hadn’t memorized his scent yet. She would, as soon as he returned.

The woman crouched down in front of Rumi. She had a kind face and sharp eyes. Rumi’s back tightened painfully—the eyes were too much like the watchful gazes of the Advisors. And the woman wore this weird robe, and people in robes took other people behind the doors. The demon had vanished behind one of those doors. Rumi didn’t want to go there. Death was waiting there.

“…” The woman stared at her expectantly. Rumi realized the woman's lips were moving. “...doing here alone?”

Ah, the question all adult humans loved to ask. Rumi could answer that one. The answer was always the same.

"I'm not alone." Silence. The woman tilted her head. Her smile trembled slightly, but never disappeared. Rumi knew what question would come next, so she forestalled it. "I'm here with Sussie… And my unc—”

“There you are!”

Rumi had to look at the demon twice to make sure it was really him. He looked like a human who had been vomited on by a rainbow—pink hair sticking out from under a yellow beanie, a green-blue shirt covered in pink flamingos and purple leaves, topped with a brown jacket, and shoes so blindingly white they seemed to emit their own light.

Rumi blinked once, then again. It took her a few more seconds to decide that maybe not all colors—and not always—were a good combination.

Then she noticed the tension in the demon’s shoulders, something that hadn’t been there before. He was speaking to the woman with the same ease he did everything else—as if all the time in the world belonged to him, but Rumi caught the quick glances he cast toward the people around them. Jinu used to watch demons like that when they visited the palace—with careful, alert eyes, studying the crowd like it was a complex sheet of music.

Tension rose in Rumi's body as well. She slid down from her chair and approached the demon. She hesitated—should she take his hand? She still didn’t like him, but in the end, caution won out. Caution was good.

She slipped her fingers into his hand, his claws clenching down on her skin a moment later. Too tightly to be comfortable, but Rumi didn’t complain. It was familiar.

They left the hospital a moment later, leaving behind the stammering woman. The demon’s entire posture changed immediately, just like the world outside. It was a bit brighter now; the clouds had moved to reveal more of the orange sky.

Rumi drew in a breath. A brief moment with no cars, and the crisp scent of rain washed away the hospital’s stench.

She didn’t enjoy the peace for long.

“Hurry up,” the demon growled, glancing over his shoulder. The easy smile vanished from his face as if it had never been there. “Shit, they weren't supposed to be here…”

He pulled Rumi toward the square, where people were strolling, clearly enjoying the weather. She had to run to keep up. A chilly wind swept through the square, blowing rotten leaves into the air. Sussie circled above them.

“Wh-What's happening?”

“Fucking huntresses, that happend. They're here.”

Huntresses.

Huntresses.

Huntresses.

Icy boulders sank to the bottom of Rumi’s stomach. Her legs tangled beneath her and only the demon’s hand kept her from falling. Her head was spinning, eyes darting from one face to another, as if she could somehow tell which of the people in the crowd was the huntress.

What did huntresses even look like? Were they different from humans?

Clawed hands pushed her onto a bench in the very center of the square. The wooden seat was cold and slightly damp. The demon sat down beside her.

“Act natural,” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth. “Pretend you’re human. They won’t do anything as long as there are this many people around…”

How was she supposed to pretend to be human? What did children do in a situation like this? She didn’t see any children among the people in the square.

Think, Rumi, think...

She did the first thing that came to mind. She leaned against the demon’s side. Children like hugging, don't they? Do they hug their uncles? She wanted to believe they do.

“Blink more often,” another hiss, barely understandable through how tightly the demon clenched his mouth. His hand dropped to her shoulders. “And squirm a bit, people move all the time.” To prove his point, he tapped his fingers against his thigh.

One, two, three, four and blink.

Rumi slid further onto the bench. She counted to three again and blinked.

She repeated it a few more times, no matter how strange it felt. You’re doing it wrong, her head screamed, don’t move—they won’t notice you if you stay still. But the demon beside her was moving, and none of the people flinched at the sight of him. A few women even smiled at him. No one flinched when their eyes met his.

Rumi didn’t know how long they had spent on the bench. The crowd had thinned out, the streetlights had long since turned on as the sky darkened, her hands had gone numb, and her stomach was growling more and more often.

Would that draw the huntresses’ attention? Would they recognize her hunger and head straight for them?

“It should be safe now,” the demon said, pulling away from Rumi and scanning the area one last time. “Come on, Snip. We’ll find you something to eat and head back.”

The shop was the same as all the others Rumi had visited. Without waiting for the demon, she padded over to the food aisle. She furrowed her brows, trying to read the labels on the packages. She could finally read them! She searched for familiar letters and… There! Second shelf from the top, a bit to the left of the colorful bottles—a whole row of ramyeon.

She tapped her chin with a finger, wondering which flavor she should choose. So many options…

The demon hovered behind her like a massive shadow. “Anything interesting, Snip?”

Rumi bit her lip. Which one to choose? She had the blue one last time—it was delicious. But she hadn’t tried the green yet. The yellow and red were tempting too, all with cute little pictures.

She rocked back on her heels. Which one to choose, which one to choose?

“Time’s up,” the demon snatched the yellow cup from the shelf, deaf to Rumi’s protests. Only when she growled through clenched teeth did he turn to her with raised eyebrows. “I hope that’s just your stomach. You know, I still won the game.”

Rumi remembered why she didn’t like this demon. She pressed her lips into a thin line and puffed out her cheeks. Stupid games and stupid rules.

“That’s better,” the demon grinned. Even in human form, his fangs stuck out slightly above his lips. “Want some peach rings? I heard human children love them,” he pulled a crinkly package from the shelf. “Oh! And this… everyone talks about it,” he leaned toward the glowing cabinet with transparent doors. “Banana milk… I have no idea since when bananas are being milked. Probably some passing trend or something. Humans are weird… Think you’ll like it?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He opened the cabinet, a wave of cold air burst out, and he grabbed a small bottle. Whistling, he headed toward the checkout.

 

---

 

Maybe the demon wasn’t so bad after all. He still wasn’t as cool as Jinu, but he bought Rumi food and then took her to the playground. If all that meant the demon was her uncle, then okay. He could be her uncle. Uncles weren’t as awesome as brothers, but they were still pretty cool.

Rumi nodded. Yes, that made sense.

She popped peach rings into her mouth and pushed off with her foot, the swing swaying gently. Its creaking was almost deafening in the silence surrounding them.

It was dark. Uncle-demon called it midnight—a time when the sun had long since hidden behind the horizon, so the moon and stars could fully rule the sky. Tonight, thick clouds covered the sky, and none of them were visible. A pity, Rumi had wanted to see the stars.

“Don’t complain, Snip,” said uncle-demon, still in human form. He kicked his legs, and the swing he sat on creaked as it swayed. “Humans are afraid of the dark, so you’ve got the whole playground to yourself…”

“I don’t want the playground to myself, I want to chase kids,” she muttered, her mouth full.

Uncle-demon kept talking as if he hadn’t heard her. “…Besides, a night like this is perfect for raids and feeding. Even huntresses would have trouble fighting us. Their eyes aren’t as good as ours.”

Rumi couldn’t imagine how weak humans must be. The darkness of night was soothing—it finally gave her eyes a break after all that time spent in the bright light of the sun and lamps. It reminded her a bit of the darkness of The Realm. And if it also weakened the huntresses, Rumi could only be pleased about that.

Huntresses.

“How did you know the huntresses were here?” She shoved a handful of chips into her mouth. Crumbs stuck to her cheeks and fell onto her hoodie, but she didn’t take her eyes off the demon.

Uncle-demon swung the swing in a way it probably wasn’t meant to be used, tangling the chains.

“Honmoon. It may limit us, but just as the huntresses know when tears appear, we know when they’re nearby. You just have to watch it closely. What’s it like now? What do you see?”

Rumi looked at the blue lines. In a strange way, it was even more beautiful at night. It hummed with contentment, as if the fact that she had satisfied her hunger pleased it immensely.

“It’s calm.” At that very moment, a shiver ran through Honmoon. Rumi tilted her head, the shift was sudden. “And now it’s… a little tense?”

Uncle-demon nodded. “It’s calm most of the time. When the huntresses use their magic, it starts to stir. Becomes chaotic. But tense?” He glanced sideways at Rumi. Finally, he shrugged and furrowed his brow. “I’m surprised Jinu lets you go to the human world without such basic knowledge.”

“Jinu teaches me a lot of things,” she replied instantly. She didn’t like anyone speaking against him. “A lot of cool things.”

“Yeah… Besides music and courtly culture, there are other things. Like how not to get killed.”

“I know how…”

“You literally couldn’t catch a spirit, Snip,” he deadpanned. “You can’t blend into human society, you don’t know the basics of Honmoon, and your body is weak. I think it’s a miracle you’re still alive!”

Rumi narrowed her eyes, fighting the rising heat in her face and the growl in her chest. She crumpled the rustling chip bag and tossed it into a nearby bin, just like humans did.

“I’m not weak,” she muttered.

“You are.”

“No.”

“Oh, but you sooo are.”

“I am not!”

Her voice turned thick, ragged, seeming to shake the world itself. A pink wave rippled through Honmoon.

No. Don’t hurt. Please, don’t.

She didn’t want to hurt. It was an accident.

She wrapped her arms around herself in a pitiful attempt to ward off the cold.

Uncle-demon stared at Rumi in silence. His eyes gleamed yellow—two glowing orbs in the darkness. All amusement vanished, replaced by a focus far too similar to that in the eyes of the Advisors.

Sussie landed on Rumi’s shoulder, cooing as she puffed out her chest and fluffed her feathers. Rumi tilted her head toward the magpie. A beak gently nipped at her ear. It was good to have her close.

They sat in silence for a long time. A chilly wind picked up, swaying the empty swings. Honmoon, blue once again, trembled, but this time the tremor seemed to come from far away.

The demon finally sighed, his shoulders relaxed, just a little and shoved a bottle of banana milk into Rumi’s hands, completely ignoring the magpie and Honmoon.

“Here, drink up. We’re heading back.”

The drink was the sweetest thing that had ever touched Rumi’s tongue. It tasted good. Maybe uncle-demon did know a thing or two after all. Even if he claimed Rumi was weak, or made ridiculous faces every time she stuffed food into her mouth. He was kind. Sometimes.  

Chapter 8

Jinu had been gone for a long time. Too long. With each passing day, Rumi’s worries only grew.

Had he gotten stuck somewhere he couldn't cross Honmoon? Could the tiger help him?

What if the other demons had turned against him?

What if he’d fallen victim to the huntresses?

Rumi was more restless than ever before—nervous energy never left her body for long, even though the body itself was exhausted. She slept more often than usual, but only fell asleep when her body completely gave in. And once asleep, her mind conjured dreams filled with the worst possible scenarios, leaving her to wake drenched in sweat, her nails dug into a plush teddy bear, a growl caught in her throat.

In moments like these, Sussie would flutter down from her spot on top of the closet, chirping softly as she pressed her tiny head against Rumi’s cheek and gently nipped at her ear.

Sometimes demon-uncle was also in the hut. He never comforted her after nightmares—he’d simply look away, seemingly absorbed in whatever task he was pretending to focus on. A small consolation for Rumi, but at least he pretended not to notice another of her many weaknesses.

How deeply she longed for Jinu to return. She wanted to be able to hug him, bury her nose in his black hanbok and breathe in the comforting scent of ash and flower.

Instead, she spent day after day with the demon-uncle, who smelled of ash and salt.

Rumi asked the demon-uncle if they could go collect a soul. He refused, not taking his eyes off the thin, colorful book full of photos of muscular, half-naked humans.

“Not that I wouldn’t want to take you on your first raid, Snip, but I can't,” he turned the page, humming contentedly. “You can’t collect souls on your own yet, and only Jinu can bring them to you. Orders from above.”

All Rumi could do was grit her teeth and endure this entirely different kind of hunger—one that left her tired and irritable.

They visited the caves a few more times. The demon-uncle kept giving her advice, and she was getting better at hunting mischievous spirits. Though to her frustration, she still hadn’t won a single fight. At least they ended with far fewer scratches. She even bit off one spirit’s arm! She planned to give it to Jinu as soon as he returned.

 

They visited the human world more often. Mostly because Rumi’s stomach was increasingly making its hunger known. Human food, though incredibly tasty, couldn’t satisfy hunger as effectively as souls. At least, that’s how it felt to her. As if something was always missing.

Rumi tried every flavor of ramyeon available in the shop, and she didn’t even want to think about the liters of banana milk she’d consumed.

On an unusually warm day, they went to the forest. Sunlight filtered through the bare trees, gently warming her cheeks. The yellowed grass was damp, soaking Rumi’s shoes quickly and making them uncomfortable.

The demon-uncle plopped down on a fallen log. His black hanbok absorbed the golden light, and his grayish-purple skin seemed a little more alive, a little warmer. A happy purr filled the small patch of forest.

Rumi leaned over a pretty stone. It was smooth, with thin stripes on its surface that iridesced in the sun. That’s when she heard it. A soft rustle—not the kind caused by wind, but as if something was moving in the underbrush. She froze, straining her eyes. 

There! A red streak darting among the gray branches. Rumi had seen similar creatures before. She loved chasing them, but hadn’t done so since her last visit in the human world with Jinu.

The squirrel moved like mischievous spirits—fast, almost chaotically. Its tiny head turned in every direction, ears twitching as they absorbed sound.

Rumi swallowed hard. Something wouldn’t let her take her eyes off it. Her fingers tingled, ready to sink into the fur, saliva pooled in her mouth.

Rumi wasn’t sure what exactly happened next. She knew that one moment she was crouching by the fallen trunk, and the next her fingers were digging into the damp bark of a tree, her feet landing silently on the soft earth. Another heartbeat and her teeth clamped down with a loud crunch on the tiny neck.

Warm, thick liquid flowed down her throat. It was sweet on her tongue, slightly metallic, far better than what leaked from the mischievous spirits. The hunger that human food could never satisfy vanished, and the restless energy buzzing beneath her skin stilled.

The demon-uncle reached Rumi just as she was licking her fingers—losing even a drop of that precious red liquid would’ve been a shame. His eyebrows shot up, nearly disappearing beneath his pink hair, mouth twisted into something between a wide grin and a look of disgust.

“Gross… But also kinda cute?” he winked. “Good job. Your first successful hunt.”

He patted her on the back. Pride swelled in Rumi’s small body.

 

One day, uncle allowed Rumi to visit So-hee while he went off to collect souls. Rumi proudly showed off her reading skills to her friend—she could already read quite fluently, and only a few more complicated words made her pause. So-hee, in turn, boasted that since March (Rumi had no idea what ‘March’ was), she was going to third grade.

So-hee’s father was listening in on their conversation. He was a man with a stern face and wore something humans called glasses. Rumi had no idea what they were for, but they made him look dangerous. Especially when his gaze lingered on Rumi’s purple hair, and his brows furrowed in deep disapproval.

“And you, Rumi? How’s your learning going? Excited about the new school year?” he asked in a deep voice that drowned out the music coming from the playing box.

“I don’t go to school,” she replied before she had a chance to think it through. Her hand froze above the plate of peeled orange slices. She didn’t want them to think she was stupid. After all, human children went to school. “Umm… I’m… I study at home.”

So-hee’s father made an indistinct sound. His dark eyes settled on Rumi, as if searching for any weakness they could find.

“I’ve always believed school is a mine of opportunity and excellent training for social skills. A good school leads to a good job and a good job leads to a good future.”

Did that mean that by not going to school, Rumi wouldn’t become a good reaper? But no demon went to school. It had to be a human thing.

She was immensely grateful to So-hee for interjecting into the conversation. Her father’s gaze was becoming uncomfortable.

“Oh, Rumi! What do you want to be when you grow up? I’m going to be a veterinarian! I’ll treat horses at our family’s stable!”

“I want to be a reaper. Like Jinu and my uncle!” she said, puffing out her chest proudly. “Then, when you die, I’ll take care of your souls!”

Rumi’s answer clearly didn’t please So-hee’s parents. She could tell by the way they greeted her uncle. If Rumi’s hair made their faces twist in discomfort, her guardian’s entire presence sent them into tremors. At least, that’s what her uncle called it after they left So-hee’s house.

“They probably won’t want you staying in touch with their kid, Snip,” he said as they walked through the forest. Sharp rays of sunlight filtered through the treetops. Green buds adorned the gray branches.

Rumi curled up her shoulders and shoved her hands deeper into her pockets.

“It just came out…” she mumbled, staring at the ground. She hadn’t meant to offend anyone.

“Yeah, next time say you want to be a civil servant or something. Everyone respects civil servants,” he said, kicking a stone. It rolled forward, bouncing off exposed roots until it vanished into a pile of rotting leaves.

“But I don’t want to be a civil servant!”

Uncle rolled his eyes.

“That’s called creativity. You should learn to lie about things like this if you want to keep interacting with humans, Snip… I think we’ll limit those interactions for now.” Rumi shrank even further. She didn’t want to stop seeing human children. She didn’t want to lie either, she wasn’t like the huntresses. “Humans are afraid of us. That’s why we don’t show ourselves in our true forms. Remember that. Someone could hand us over to the hunters. Is that what you want?”

The illusion flickered. His dark eyes gleamed with yellow, his lips pulled back to reveal fangs. His voice was frayed at the edges, as if holding back a growl.

“No, I don’t,” she said, clenching her fingers around her right shoulder. It was burning again.

Upon returning to the hut, they found a tiger inside. The spirit pounced on Rumi, knocking her to the ground. Her tiny arms wrapped around the massive body, her face buried in the soft fur. She responded to the tiger’s purring with her own, though not as loud.

They lay there in a tangle of limbs and at some point, Sussie joined them, playfully nipping the blue ear until a rough tongue landed on Rumi’s face.

“Eww…” she groaned and giggled as sticky saliva coated her cheeks and nose, and her hair stuck to the tongue. She snuggled deeper into the fur. “I missed you so much. Where’s Jinu?”

The orange eyes stayed focused on her for a moment, before darting away, each in a different direction. The tiger's jaws opened, and a folded piece of paper fell from its tongue in a puddle of saliva.

Uncle called it a letter. Jinu had written only a few words—he was doing well and should be back soon.

Rumi would’ve preferred it if he came back now.

If he were less important at the King’s court, would he spend more time at the hut? If so, then he could be less important. Rumi would survive that.

Uncle pulled out a long, slender object from somewhere, took the letter, and wrote a few words of his own on the back. Then he pressed both items into her hands.

“Write whatever you want to tell him.”

The slender object felt odd in her hand. When she placed it on the paper, the letters came out shaky and blurry. Writing 'Come back soon' and drawing the little tiger's head took far too long.

The tiger vanished instantly as soon as the paper landed in its jaws.

 

The following days melted into one long stretch of waiting. Rumi sat in front of the hut, staring motionless at the spot Jinu always teleported to, until her uncle forced her to go somewhere.

“He'll be back soon, Snip.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily as Rumi dug in her heels once again. She didn't acknowledge that she'd even heard him. “All right then, we’re doing this the hard way…”

Rumi barely registered the claws on her neck before the world dissolved into a swirl of colors. She growled and flailed her arms, but the demon didn’t care. His grip was like steel.

For the next few days, she was taken—just as forcefully—wherever the demon-uncle deemed appropriate to go, anywhere except the human world. Until finally, Jinu appeared in the doorway with the tiger at his side. Rumi knew she couldn’t teleport, and yet it felt almost like teleportation—in one moment she was wrestling with her uncle, trying to pry open his hand, barely resisting the urge to bite and in the next, her arms and legs were wrapped around Jinu’s torso, her nose buried in his neck.

The scent of ash and flower, even masked by all the unfamiliar smells, had never been so wonderful.

“You're back,” she murmured, her chest vibrating in sync with the loud purring. “You're backyou'rebackyou'reback.”

Clawed hands wrapped around her small body and Rumi thought she was the happiest half-demon in both worlds.

“I promised I'd come back, didn't I?”

Rumi purred even louder in response.

They sat at the table. Jinu was talking about something with uncle, but Rumi didn’t care. She sat on her brother’s lap, her little fists clenched around his hanbok.

The word “hunters” came up a few times. Rumi frowned—she didn’t want to think about them right now.

“Jinu.” Both demons fell silent; she could feel their eyes on her. “What does ‘fuck’ mean?”

She could tell the silence had changed. She tilted her head, trying to see Jinu’s face without lifting her cheek from his chest. His muscles tensed, and his face became an unreadable mask as he froze completely.

Uncle pushed back from the table.

“Oh wow! Is it that late already? Well then, we’ll catch up later. Bye!”

“Rumi. Please, cover your ears.”

She stared at Jinu with wide eyes for a moment. She didn’t want to let go of him, but something in his expression made her obey. Slowly, she pressed her hands over her ears. Jinu took a deep breath—she could still hear him clearly.

“HYUN! COME BACK, YOU BUTTFACE!”

 

---

 

The gong rang throughout The Realm. Each strike echoed off the mountain peaks, setting the air trembling. It settled into the bones and resonated deep within the head, to the point that even the teeth buzzed. It was a summons to the palace and ignoring it meant a painful punishment.

Rumi clenched her fists, the only way to keep herself from tugging at her sleeves. She turned her head, searching for Jinu. He stood a little farther away, among a group of reapers with uncle Hyun. They were all dressed in beautiful black hanbok that blended into the palace's gloom. He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the dais, his face perfectly blank. He called it his court expression. Rumi could never master it.

It was the first time they stood apart—Jinu had decided Rumi was grown enough not to need his company. The initial pride faded the moment she crossed the first gate, and now she longed to stand by his side. But she couldn’t let him down. She was meant to be strong.

The flickering lamp flames reflected off the dark floor, casting a strange light over everyone. It twisted their features into something sharp and unnatural, deepening the shadows. Even Rumi's skin seemed less human, a sickly ash-gray. She knew it was better that way. The less human she appeared, the fewer eyes turned toward her. She had understood that long ago.

Another gong.

Three Advisors emerged from the archway crowned with ornate carvings. The metal tiles and bells adorning their robes jingled and rattled with every step. The light falling on them shimmered in colors, and for a moment, Rumi thought they looked like stars. But the stars weren’t frightening.

They stopped at the foot of the stairs, and the rattling of the tiles fell silent.

Rumi’s feet itched to step away from the three demons, but she couldn’t. She still remembered the consequences from last time—they had settled into her skin far deeper than patterns. Instead, she clenched her fists tighter, feeling her nails dig painfully into her flesh.

The Advisors were powerful—only the King surpassed them. But Gwi-Ma rarely paid attention to Rumi; after all, he had an entire Kingdom to rule. The Advisors were far more terrifying. Wrapped in layers of colorful robes, they moved slowly, as if gliding through the air, always accompanied by a metallic scent and something too sweet to be pleasant. Their eyes lingered on Rumi just a little too long, narrowed in smiles, but where Jinu’s smile was beautiful, theirs made Rumi’s skin crawl and tingle, every impulse in her body urging her to flee.

The dark interior of the palace was bathed in a purple glow. Rumi fell to her knees, the gleaming floor cool against her forehead and hands. Behind her, she heard the rustle as hundreds of other demons bowed to the King.

The chill of the floor vanished quickly, replaced by scorching flames. The air near them shimmered and each breath burned unpleasantly in her nose and throat. Their light was so bright that Rumi had to squint, even when she wasn’t looking directly at them.

The heat faded and Rumi slowly rose to her feet, head held high, though her eyes never lifted beyond the foot of the stairs. She knew better than to look upon the King’s face.

“Centuries ago, these halls welcomed conquerors and rulers of both our worlds. Mighty, indestructible, undefeated. We knew no hunger, we did not have to fight to survive.” The King’s voice rolled through the palace, bouncing off the walls and carrying onward, all the way to the shadowy edges of the realm. It was soft, deep and made the air tremble with its sheer power. “Centuries ago, our rightful place was taken from us, but now the time of exile is ending. Honmoon is weakening and so are the hunters. Our strength grows with every soul we claim…”

Rumi felt the King’s burning gaze upon her. She didn’t dare move, swallowed the lump rising in her throat, but couldn’t stop her hands from trembling. Fortunately, His attention was brief.

“AND YET THERE ARE FAILURES AMONG US, UNABLE TO COMPLETE EVEN THE SIMPLEST TASKS!”

The roar of flames drowned out the sound of Rumi’s heartbeat. Heat struck her cheeks, and every breath burned with unbearable warmth. Her heart pounded in her chest like a drum.

Claws scraped across the smooth floor, slow and heavy, as if their owner preferred to remain in the shadows. The demon stepped into the circle of light and Rumi could see his massive form. Numerous twisted horns and spikes glimmered in the firelight, his blue-green skin oddly gray, his large hands trembling.

The demon fell to his knees, his enormous head striking the floor. Rumi noticed thin, pink lines streaking across his body and shivered. She had seen such marks on the few demons who returned from the human world after encountering the huntresses. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot—she already knew what awaited this demon.

"M-my King..." his raspy voice trembled so violently that his words were nearly impossible to understand. "It was an ambush. The huntress... she knew we would come. She prepared talismans! Someone betrayed us."

The demon’s frantic eyes locked onto Rumi. His clawed hand twitched, lips pulling back to reveal fangs.

“There is a traitor among us! How else could she have known? It must have been a traitor!” 

The demon's gaze grew increasingly frantic. Rumi didn't move a muscle, fearing it would encourage the demon to attack. He was too close now. His massive form loomed over her, blocking the light from the lamps and enveloping her in shadow.

She couldn’t move—the punishment would be severe.

She didn’t want to move—the demon would strike.

“I understand.” The King's voice was calm again.

“You do?”

The demon stopped just a step away from Rumi. From that distance, she could see the flicker of hope in his eyes; she could smell his sour stench, beneath which lurked something rotten and diseased.

The three Advisors stood before the throne, watching the unfolding spectacle with amusement. They were always amused, as if life existed solely for their entertainment.

“I understand you are WEAK! ” Purple flames erupted with all the King's anger. “ PATHETIC! USELESS!”

The flames consumed the demon. His terrifying scream went on and on, echoing off the walls, ringing in their ears without fading.

“This was our only chance! The hunters were weakened, their bonds torn apart. Their death would have destroyed Honmoon! The next generation would be weaker, untrained. We’ve fought with all three for centuries and you… You couldn’t destroy even one! One broken huntress! YOUR INCOMPETENCE HAS COST US YEARS!” The King roared, drowning out the demon’s cries. His next words were disturbingly calm: “The weak do not deserve mercy.”

Though the flames were painfully bright, scorching her skin and lungs, Rumi could only stand and watch as the demon’s body slowly melted away. Piece by piece, his form crumbled into dust, until his voice turned into a wet gurgle, then a faint hiss and finally faded into eternal silence.

A thud echoed through the palace, loud enough to shake Rumi's chest. It took her a moment to realize it was her own heart pounding against her ribs. Could the others hear it?

Her chest rose and fell frantically, her chin quivering, but before she made any noise, she gritted her teeth with incredible force.

Stay low—they won’t hurt you.

The King spoke again. This time, there was no anger in his voice yet it still sent chills down Rumi’s spine.

A calm King was even more terrifying.

“As I punish and despise failures, so too do I reward loyalty and devotion. Step forward, Yun-seo.”

The footsteps were quiet, almost too quiet. They stopped near Rumi, accompanied by the rustle of fabric.

“My King.”

Rumi’s breath caught in her throat. She knew that voice all too well—low, almost growling, it haunted her nightmares constantly.

She dared to look at the demon.

He stood there, lean and tall, taller than uncle Hyun. Five straight lines slashed across his face and his yellow eyes gleamed with hunger as he stared at the foot of the stairs.

The King’s flames flickered brighter.

“Surprisingly, your plan worked, Yun-seo. Another hunter is dead.”

Rumi’s eyes widened, her fingers twitched. This demon had managed to defeat a huntress. He had done something only a rare few were capable of. Rumi knew that two of the Advisors had once also killed huntresses—back then, they had nearly destroyed Honmoon.

“Your ambition burns brightly, Yun-seo… You will join my generals. Lead the next raids. Do not fail me.”

The demon bowed his head low.

“I will not disappoint you, my King.”

The gong continued to echo long after the King had departed. The throne room began to empty, but Rumi didn’t dare move until she felt Jinu’s presence behind her. She wanted to run to him and grab his hand, but instead forced her legs to maintain a steady pace, keeping her burned hands pressed tightly against her sides. The skin on her palms tingled—soon they should return to normal.

“You did well,” Jinu said. His face was an unreadable courtly mask, but his eyes did that strange thing that made them seem like they were smiling.

Rumi gave a faint smile, at that very moment, behind her came the rhythmic rattling and soft rustle of fabric. A metallic, overly sweet scent filled her nose. She froze mid-step.

“Jinu, I’m glad to see you back. Congratulations on a successful mission,” the voice was oily, dragging out syllables too much, far too cheerful.

“Advisor.” Jinu bowed his head and never fully straightened afterward. His hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach for Rumi, but he stopped himself at the last moment. “How may I serve you?”

The Advisor's lips stretched into a too-wide smile, revealing too many teeth. His eyes narrowed to mere slits as they settled on Rumi.

Oh, how she longed to disappear. To flee to the hut and hide under the blankets beside the tiger. Instead, she took a step back and bared her teeth.

“I’m curious about the progress of our… dear half-breed.” His lips didn’t move as he spoke. Somehow, the smile grew even wider, even more grotesque. “We’ve received some interesting news.”

A gray hand tipped with black claws slid out of her wide sleeve and shot out like a snake, grabbing Rumi's face. She squeaked in surprise as the claws dug into her cheeks. She jerked her head, trying to break free from the steel grip, baring her teeth in a silent warning, but the demon’s fingers only pressed harder, forcing her to open her mouth.

“Hmm… Yes, yes,” the demon hummed, apparently pleased with what he saw. He tugged at her jaw, tilting Rumi’s head up, then side to side. “Does she have claws yet?” With his other hand, he grabbed Rumi’s palm, pulled it forward, and pressed a clawed finger into its center. Her fingers twitched. She swallowed a hiss. “No. What a pity… Nevertheless, we recommend beginning proper training. Your companions might prove useful in this endeavor. After recent events, the King wishes to make the best use of all available resources. We wouldn’t want to disappoint Him, would we?”

The demon chuckled—a high, cold sound that pierced the skull and scraped along the inside of the head.

The clawed hands vanished. Rumi stumbled backward, immediately hiding behind Jinu. She clenched her fists around his hanbok, baring her teeth and swallowing the growling sound rising in her chest. Jinu offered no comfort. He never did, not in the palace.

“I understand, Advisor,” Jinu bowed again. “We will begin the training without delay.”

The demon hummed once more, then retreated, accompanied by the jingling of bells and the buzzing of tiles. But the sweet, metallic scent had already seeped into their clothes and skin.

Chapter 9

Rumi frowned at the sheet of music. She had been able to read it long before she learned letters—before she started demanding her own books, the sheet music was the only thing in their small library, and Jinu would sometimes take Rumi on his lap and trace the lines with his finger, singing, and she would sing with him. But it was much harder to bring the notes to life while also trying to understand the instructions Jinu had written. Especially when the bipa she was plucking was nearly as big as she was and her fingers were too short to comfortably grasp the chords.

She swallowed a growl as once again the sound didn’t match what was written on the sheet. 

She was proud that Jinu had finally allowed her to learn to play the bipa. She had been begging him for years. And yet her happiness seemed muted, as if hidden behind a thick pane of glass that let Rumi see it, but not fully reach it. 

She gave up when her finger once again  couldn’t reach the string on the neck and she looked at Jinu. Her hands tightened around the instrument as unease swirled in her stomach.

Her brother had been restless since his visit to the palace. More than usual. Too often he stared blankly into space, a crease forming on his brow, his lips baring his fangs and his claws drumming against any surface that happened to be within reach.

Rumi blamed the mission. How could she not? If Jinu had disappeared for so long only to spend all that time in the human world, near the huntresses, it must have been dreadful. So many days far from home, with the thought that he might never return… But now he was here. He had come back victorious, triumphing over the huntress.

Rumi was proud of her brother. Maybe one day she would be like him, but for now she had to comfort him. She tried to do it in different ways. She gave him a spirit’s hand, to which he smiled, told her how proud he was of her and ruffled her hair, but the smile never reached his eyes and quickly faded. When she gave him a smooth stone covered in iridescent stripes, he only said it was pretty and put it away in the closet, never looking at it again. The same fate befell the red yarn bracelet and the small figurine carved from rotting wood that was meant to resemble a tiger.

Perhaps uncle Hyun had been right and the figurine really did look like a possessed, choking cat overrun by haunted fleas. Rumi tried not to show how much that hurt. She promised herself that next time, she would try harder.

She bit her lip and almost instantly regretted it when the skin gave way beneath her teeth and a metallic taste flooded her mouth. The tiger ran its rough tongue over her hair and pressed its head against her back with a comforting purr.

She carefully set down the bipa, scratched the tiger under the chin and crawled over to Jinu. This time his fingers were occupied with a narrow object, a pen. He alternated between tapping it against his knee and against the yellowed sheet of paper lying on the table.

Rumi wrapped her arms tightly around his chest and purred.

I’m here. Don’t be sad. I’m here. Don’t be mad. I’m here.

Jinu tensed under her touch. He blinked, clearly surprised and only after a moment did he relax.

“Have you finished your practice?”

She decided to ignore his question. Practice wasn’t important. Not when Jinu was clearly not okay.

“You’re sad. Don’t be.”

He sighed heavily, put down the pen and rubbed his eyes.

“I’m just thinking… Come here.” To Rumi's dismay, he pulled her away. Fortunately, it was short-lived, because the next moment he grabbed her under the armpits and pulled her onto his lap. He lifted the sheet so she could see the words written on it. She frowned as her eyes tried to make sense of what she was seeing. She didn’t recognize characters; they were different from the ones Jinu had taught her. “The Advisors have suggested areas in which you should train.”

At the mention of the palace demons, Rumi’s fingers clenched the fabric of her pants, digging painfully into her legs. As if that weren’t enough, his next words chilled her even further.

“What do you think about Hyun?”

“Are you- Are you going out again? Don’t go, please, don’t-”

You just got back. Don't go. Don't go don’t go don’t go.

“No!” He shook his head hastily. The arm holding Rumi around the waist tightened, his chin resting on her head. The pressure was warm, reassuring. “No, this time it’s not that. I was thinking he could teach you a few useful things. You know… reaper stuff. Him and a few of my other companions.”

“Oh…” Rumi leaned against Jinu, threading her fingers into the wide sleeve of his robe. He wasn’t going anywhere. She breathed out, much calmer. “Uncle Hyun taught me how to hunt. Is that reaper stuff?”

“Since hunters exist... well, aside from the whole squirrel thing,” he muttered. The sheet landed back on the table; with his free hand he took up the pen and crossed out an entire line. Beneath it, he wrote a different string of characters. “Yes, that would be good…”

Rumi’s eyes followed the pen gliding across the page. She wished she could write like that too. If she composed songs, she could write them down in the same neat, beautiful way. Would her songs be beautiful then as well? Probably. Jinu’s songs were beautiful.

"Why can't you teach me?"

Jinu tapped the other end of the pen rhythmically against the paper.

“I’m great at many things, but there are areas where others are better than me. Unfortunately.” He sighed in an exaggerated way and set the pen down. Rumi made her displeasure known when he pulled his arm away from her to fold the sheet of paper in half. “You’re such a clingy one, you know? I don’t think human children are this attached.”

“I’m not human,” she mumbled, her lips curling into a pout. “And you disappear if I’m not holding on to you.”

He laughed, his chest shaking, and Rumi thought that this moment could last forever. The hut was finally full enough, her favourite people were with her, and a warm, fuzzy feeling was growing in her chest.

 

---

 

In confusion, she glanced at the mountains surrounding them. Jinu had said they were going to uncle Hyun’s house, but she was convinced it was a bit farther on, right next to the cave that looked like a rabbit’s butt. The one they were standing in front of looked more like a turtle shell; the crack next to it even looked like a tiny tail. Had Jinu been mistaken? No, Jinu was never wrong.

“Hi, Snip!”

She turned her head toward the familiar voice. Uncle Hyun was leaning against the entrance to the cave with his usual ease. In his teeth, he held something that suspiciously resembled a large splinter. The tip twitched as he moved his jaw.

Jinu stepped up beside Rumi, one of his hands settling on her shoulder.

“Are the others inside?”

“Yup,” he popped the 'p', tossed the splinter aside and pushed himself off the wall. “Get in before Guiying comes out again. He’s already hit four bookstores and looked like he wanted to push it to five.”

“It’s almost like he finally found a new hobby.” Both demons snorted at Jinu’s words.

Rumi had no idea what they meant. Hobbies were good, she knew they were. So why were they laughing?

The inside of the cave was different from what Rumi had expected. The stone walls were adorned with crude reliefs depicting human figures working in the fields, interspersed with tigers lurking in the undergrowth, baring their fangs. The ground, worn smooth by the feet that had followed the same path for hundreds of years, sloped gently downward with each step, and the darkness was so thick it had to be chased away by heavy metal lamps hanging from the ceiling on thick chains. Pink flames burst from their openings, lighting the gloom and deepening the shadows.

Every few steps the ornate walls were interrupted by passageways. At least Rumi suspected they were passageways—dozens of thin, black ribbons obscured them. Small bells woven into them gleamed in the eerie light, and though the ribbons moved to the rhythm of an imaginary wind, the bells made no sound.

Rumi sniffed. The air carried a scent different from the stale odor of the mischievous spirits. She could definitely smell ash, the common scent of all reapers, but the other elements were too mingled for her to distinguish.

She stopped by a relief set low enough that she could examine it more closely without standing on tiptoe or craning her neck.

“What is this place?” Her voice, multiplied by the echo, twisted into something eerie and inhuman.

“My home.”

Rumi frowned. Had uncle not said the same thing about the cave where they hunted mischievous spirits? Maybe he had two homes. Can you have two homes? Rumi had one, and she shared it with Jinu, Sussie, and the tiger. If they had two homes, wouldn’t they live apart? Or maybe they would live in one for a while, then in the other? Rumi liked the hut; she didn’t want to leave it.

“Many reapers live in these caves,” said Jinu, his hand falling on Rumi’s back, anchoring her once more in reality. The growing pressure urged her to move. “That’s why I suggest you hurry. You’re not a reaper, and they have no patience for guests. Move, Hyun’s place is nearby.”

More questions began to swirl in Rumi’s mind. She would deal with them later. For now, she had to walk. She knew all too well that demons were not patient, so step by step she followed her uncle.

Rumi tried to count the passages they passed, but there were too many. Each was crowned with an arch bearing the image of a lion’s head, and each head seemed to track her like a predator watching its prey.

Suddenly, uncle Hyun stopped before a passage and swept aside a curtain of ribbons with his hand. Rumi expected the bells to remain as silent as all the others, but to her surprise, they chimed softly. The sound seemed to come from far away, resonating unpleasantly in her head and chest.

She clenched her fingers around her sleeves and stepped uncertainly in after her uncle. The interior was dark and empty, lit by a single lamp. Five more passages had been carved into the walls. This time, no ribbons veiled them. From two of them seeped a pink light; the others were as dark as the abyss.

“Guys! They’re here!” Her uncle’s voice did not echo, as it usually did in empty rooms. The moment he closed his mouth, the sound was cut off, as if severed by an invisible blade.

The muffled sound of a pair of footsteps put Rumi on alert. She moved closer to Jinu so that both he and Uncle Hyun stood between her and the approaching demons.

“You’re late. Again.” The voice was deep and steady.

From a side door emerged two reapers. The one who had spoken looked surprisingly soft for a demon—smooth cheeks and large eyes gave him a very youthful appearance, but demons never looked their age. He could just as easily have been a hundred as a thousand years old.

“What did you expect? You sent Hyun to bring them,” the second demon said with a shrug.

Uncle Hyun let out a muffled, indignant sound. The demon with long pink hair and deep shadows under his eyes, which made him look tired, ignored him completely and looked at Rumi as if she were an exceptionally complex text he was trying to decipher.

The demons’ gazes were too intense. Even in the palace, Rumi had never been subjected to such scrutiny. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, but froze halfway through the movement. Planting both feet firmly on the ground, she clenched her fists, straightened her back, and lifted her chin.

A flicker of amusement crossed the tired demon’s face, but it vanished so quickly that Rumi thought it might have been just a trick of the pink light.

“Looks like a lot of work… Are the Advisors sure she can handle it?”

“They won’t take no for an answer,” Jinu said.

The grimace on the tired demon’s face deepened.

“All right…” he sighed, brushing strands of pink hair away from his face. “I’m Su-bin, and this is Guiying. Ji-hun is still preparing the equipment, so we won’t wait for him. Let’s begin.”

 

---

 

Rumi liked routine. Most of her days looked the same—waking up beside the tiger, then spending time with Jinu tidying up the hut and learning all sorts of things from him, playing with the tiger and going to sleep. Sometimes Jinu would take her to the human world for food, or bring back souls himself; other times they would venture to the borderlands and other interesting places in The Realm.

She liked that.

Uncle Hyun’s presence had disrupted her routine, but the number of games and outings he came up with kept Rumi so busy that she hardly paid much attention to the changes.

But the changes that came with the Advisors’ order were different. Big—so big and sudden that Rumi couldn’t quite say what she thought of them. Part of her was excited—after all, it was the first step toward becoming a reaper like Jinu. But the other part, the one that opposed them, was louder. It wanted to dig in its heels and resist every time she left the hut.

Once, she even did just that.

Jinu crouched down in front of her, bringing himself to her eye level. His face was serious, still a little tired. Rumi lowered her gaze before the yellow eyes could etch themselves too deeply into her mind.

“Rumi, look at me.” She clenched her jaw, stubbornly staring at her own feet as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. At least they weren’t looking at her in that strange, uncomfortable way. “Rumi.”

She shifted to the side, almost pressing herself against the rough doorframe. If she crossed it, the hut would be behind her, and she would be closer to the demons.

“I don’t want to go!” her voice cracked. She felt tears welling in her eyes. “I want to stay here. With you, Sussie and the tiger. Why do I have to go there? You could teach me too!”

Rumi couldn’t call Jinu’s companions bad. In fact, they were better than the rest of the demons—they didn’t mock her, didn’t bare their fangs at her in a silent threat to devour her heart or liver, didn’t try to drag her into icy depths of water or chase her for their own amusement. That was nice, but… Their home was unfamiliar. They were unfamiliar. And Rumi didn’t like the unfamiliar.

She was painfully aware of Su-bin’s telling glances whenever she forgot to mimic human behavior; of every twitch of Guiying’s fingers at the slightest sign of boredom from listening to an overly long lecture; of Ji-hun’s pressed lips each time she tripped over her own feet. All three of them demanded perfection.

That didn’t apply to uncle Hyun. He was far too happy to take Rumi on a terrifyingly awful long run, or to make her repeat strange movements until her limbs trembled so much she couldn’t hold a pen or take another step. He laughed every time she tripped over uneven ground, but in the next moment he would grab her by the collar and set her back on her feet. And when she tore her arm from wrist to elbow on a jagged rock, he even gave her a handkerchief to wrap the wound. He was almost as kind as Jinu, but he still wasn’t him.

So yes, despite everything, Rumi still preferred to stay in the hut with Jinu.

“Rumi, we’ve already talked about this.” Her brother rubbed his eyes with his fingers, and for a moment Rumi felt bad for tiring him out. “I can’t teach you everything, and you can’t back out of this. You know very well the Advisors will want to see your progress.”

Another reason why Rumi would rather remain in the hut—the Advisors always got what they wanted and any failure was punished by them almost as severely as by the King.

She dug her toes into a protruding knot in the floor.

“Hey, look at me.” He gently hooked his clawed fingers under her chin, forcing her to lift her gaze to him. The tension left Rumi’s shoulders. Jinu’s pupils were not the usual narrow slits; they had widened into those soft ovals that appeared far too rarely. “Let’s make a deal. If my companions decide you’re doing at least decently in everything they’re teaching you, I’ll take you on a raid. How about it?”

Rumi’s eyes widened. She had always wanted to accompany Jinu on raids. After all, only demons took part in raids. Not spirits, not shadows, not the lesser demons swarming in pits like rabid dogs, not half-bloods. Real, full-blooded demons. At last, she would be complete. No longer a half-breed, a mutt, a half-human—just Rumi, the demon reaper.

“A real raid?” she whispered, unable to manage anything louder. Not when it felt as though anything more than a whisper would turn Jinu’s words into nothing more than a dream.

“I'll take you as an observer, but you have to study. You have to be able to escape from the hunter. Deal?”

Rumi shifted from one foot to the other. She fixed her eyes on the nearby mountain range; if she strained her vision, she could make out a faint pink glow.

“Will you be there too? At the lessons.”

“Not always. But you can take the tiger and Sussie with you.”

Chewing her lip, she looked back at Jinu. That was… acceptable.

“Okay.” She loosened her grip on the doorframe, the feel of the wooden boards beneath her feet replaced by the uneven ground. “Deal.”

Jinu smiled beautifully. “So, ready to become the best of the reapers?” He held out his hand, and Rumi slipped hers into it without hesitation. “Of course, the best right after me. I have a reputation to uphold.”

He winked at her and Rumi giggled. She didn’t think she would ever be better than Jinu, but being the second best sounded just fine.

Notes:

Saja Boys names:
Abby - Hyun
Baby - Guiying
Mystery - Ji-hun
Romance - Su-bin

Chapter 10

CLANG

Steel strikes against steel. The shock runs through her arms, all the way to her teeth, nearly knocking the blunt dagger from her hand. She snarls. 

Rumi snaps back as the cold blade chases after her. It whizzes far too close to her eyes. The rush of air slams into her face. She ducks, twisting her body to avoid the splayed claws. One catches her cheek, leaving a stinging gash.

The ground crunches beneath her feet. A step back—too slow, too clumsy—then another to the side. Her own blade is raised as high as her tired arms will allow. Steel glints dangerously in the red glow.

Rumi leaps away. The ground she lands on is covered in loose sand. One leg slips, buckling under her weight. Her knee slams into the hard ground.

Hwando strikes from the side—a quick slash, ready to cleave through anything in its path.

Rumi's eyes widen. She clenches her fist in the loose sand and hurls it at the demon. Only part of it reaches his face, but it’s enough. The blade hesitates, slowing just enough for her to parry. Metal grates and rings.

Rumi scrambles to her feet. She lifts the dagger above her head. Her arms tremble with the effort.

Suddenly, a clawed hand clamps painfully around her calf. It yanks. The ground slips away beneath her. Something slams into her chest. The world tilts.

THUD

The impact with the ground knocked the air from her lungs; her bones rattled and the world suddenly went dark. She felt her brain bounce inside her skull like a toy block trapped in a box.

She opened her mouth, greedily drawing in wheezing breaths. Air had never tasted sweeter. Her ribs protested with every rise, her head throbbed with a dull ache, her lungs burned and stung.

The sky was so calm. Red and unmoving, like the ribbon hidden behind her opponent’s back—the one she had to reach. She could have stared at it for an eternity.  At times, it seemed easier to touch the sky than the ribbon.

She closed her eyes—if only to shield herself a little from the sweat pooling on her eyelids. It seeped into the cut on her cheek. It stung unpleasantly.

“Too slow.” The monotonous voice cut through the blood roaring in her ears.

Suddenly, she became aware of the cold blade at her throat. Opening her eyes would have taken too much effort, so she simply listened.

“Your footwork doesn’t exist, your arms keep dropping, you pay no attention to your surroundings.”

The pressure of the sword vanished—only for its flat to smack against her thigh. She clenched her teeth, swallowing a hiss.

“You move like a wild animal. A hunter would have killed you seven times over by now.”

A dark silhouette loomed above her, blocking part of the sky. Grey hair fell forward, revealing an unflinching gaze and outward-curling fangs.

Rumi closed her eyes again. She didn’t know how long she had spent dodging Ji-hun’s attacks and trying to break through his defense, but it was definitely far too long.

Two years too long. At least by human reckoning—in the human world, two winters had already passed and winters counted as years. Guiying had explained the timekeeping system at the very beginning of her training, in that deep, steady voice.

From the moment Jinu first took her to his companions, Rumi's life had changed dramatically. Day after day, she went to the reaper caves—at first in Jinu’s company, later more and more often with the tiger and Sussie—to learn everything she needed to know as a reaper.

The flat of the sword struck her thigh again. “Get up. Again.”

The thought of ignoring the command was brief and tempting, but Rumi knew her duties. She also knew that demons lurked in the caves. They watched, waiting for even the smallest sign of weakness—something they could use against her, Jinu, or his companions. All to earn the King’s favor. She could not allow that to happen. 

Clenching her teeth, she rolled onto her stomach and with trembling hands managed to push herself off the ground only on the third attempt. Sand and dust clung to her cheek and to her sweat-soaked clothes, making her skin itch unpleasantly.

She hated sweating—it was another sign of her human blood, one she despised with every fiber of her being and she held onto the hope that it would vanish as she grew older.

She licked her lips, but it did nothing to help. They were dry, her tongue sticky and swollen, now coated with the taste of salt. She pushed the thirst to the farthest corner of her mind. She would drink once her training with Ji-hun was over.

She reached for the dagger; she must have dropped it when she hit the ground, but a familiar foot came down on the blade, narrowly missing Rumi’s fingers.

“Come on, Ji. Snip is clearly barely alive. You don't want her to die here, do you?” Uncle Hyun raised the dagger and deftly twirled it around his fingers a few times. “Besides, she lasted two blows longer than last time! For that, surely she deserves a break?”

“Hunters won’t ask if she’s tired,” Ji-hun said, not even sparing the demon a glance; his eyes remained fixed on Rumi, kneeling on the ground. “Get up.”

Her stomach chose that exact moment to growl loudly. Fighting the blush rising to her cheeks, Rumi finally managed to stand on trembling legs and, avoiding all eyes, extended an equally trembling hand toward her uncle in a silent request for the return of her dagger. The demon didn’t move.

“Well, clearly if she doesn’t eat something, she won’t even have the chance to meet the hunters. Bit of a waste of time, don’t you think?” He drummed his claws against the blunt blade. “Come on, Ji! Take a little example from magnificent uncle.”

Rumi could easily imagine Ji-hun’s eyes narrowing dangerously beneath the strands of hair falling across his face.

“Guiying, back me up!”

“I back you,” came the toneless reply.

“Wow, the strength of your support is just overwhelming,” uncle shot him the look. “Anyway, I’ve got the majority. Snip gets a break.”

Ji-hun still stood like a perfect statue. The silence stretched until it became uncomfortable. Rumi licked her chapped lips and clenched her hand around the wide sleeve of her uncle’s robe.

“It's okay, uncle... I can… I can do it.”

It might have sounded more convincing if her whole body weren’t trembling and her voice louder than the whisper of wind across the field. Even her greedy breaths seemed louder than her words. But she couldn’t be weak.

Uncle Hyun looked at her for a moment with an unreadable expression. Suddenly, he pressed a hand to his chest and, sniffing, wiped away an imaginary tear. “They grow up so fast… Uncle is proud of you, Snip!”

And just like that, he spun on his heel and headed toward the tiger, which had been trying for some time to set an overturned weapon basket upright. Guiying was already sitting on a stone bench, absorbed in the spirit’s efforts, murmuring to it words of encouragement.

The corners of Rumi’s mouth twitched at the sight. Something warm, as pleasant as the tiger’s purr, spread between her ribs. The patterns pulsed faintly, but it wasn’t unpleasant. She furrowed her brows, because Jinu wasn’t here. Maybe… No, that was a problem for another time; Ji-hun was growing impatient.

She raised her hands in front of her, taking a fighting stance and then realized she hadn’t gotten her dagger back.

“Uncle!” she gasped.

“What? Reapers don’t use weapons,” he said with a chuckle. It took him a moment to calm down. His face grew serious, brows furrowing in concentration. “I guess I’ll have to teach you how to fight with your bare hands. Yeah, actually, that would be a good idea… Humans came up with something called krav maga . A new invention, don’t know if it’ll catch on, but I really liked it. Very effective. Yes. Your magnificent uncle will teach you that someday, Snip.”

Rumi’s eyes widened. She had once seen a demonstration of modern martial arts. They looked different from what she had been taught—fast, dynamic, dangerous. Perfect for using claws. Not that Rumi had any, but still.

“I’d like that,” she said.

The next fight ended humiliatingly fast. Rumi didn’t even reach the first milestone before Ji-hun swept her legs out from under her, claws tightening around her throat, his sword smearing red across her hand.

She lay there, struggling to catch her breath, until her uncle finally took pity on her. He grabbed her by the arm and helped her over to the bench. Rumi didn’t even have the strength to flinch when his claws pressed against the forming bruise.

He shoved a bowl of water into her hands. “Drink.” 

The bowl seemed to weigh a ton. Her hands trembled so badly that some of the water spilled onto her clothes, soaking the sleeves. Someone, most likely uncle Hyun, helped her guide the bowl to her lips.

Wonderful, sweet, cold water. Rumi could drink and drink and drink. If not for the red ribbon that seemed to mock her, she might have been happy. Maybe if she just closed her eyes…

She closed her eyes, and suddenly her life felt better.

“You need to work on your stamina.”

And just like that, the better life died a tragic death.

“Hyun will increase the intensity of your training. Su-bin and Guiying can combine their lessons, so we’ll divide the extra time among ourselves. I also suggest more hunts. A life-or-death situation can be beneficial for growth. If your progress stays at the same level, you’ll soon face a Faceless. That will be a good exam. Depending on how you handle it, we’ll move on to more advanced techniques.”

Rumi realized she wasn’t the only one staring at Ji-hun as if he had suddenly grown two heads. Even the tiger had fixed its gaze on the demon—and that meant something. Still, she had a feeling that the emotions gripping her were different from those of the demons.

More training? More who-knows-how-long runs through the mountains? Was that even possible?

Ji-hun seemed unaware of their attention. Or maybe he was and simply didn’t show it. He was always hard to read, as if he wore the same mask at all times.

He set the basket upright and tossed the gathered weapons into it, adjusted a spear when it slid out of the corner. Then he looked around, searching for anything out of place, still muttering under his breath.

“Unfortunately, the Advisors will not agree to reduce the voice lessons, so your time with Jinu will remain unchanged,” he wrinkled his nose in displeasure. “It’s a decision I don’t understand, but I’m not going to question their word. Anyway—”

“Okay. Uh-uh. No.” Uncle Hyun raised his hands, shoving them almost into Ji-hun’s face. “Hold your horses, buddy. What’s a fu- faaascinating idea you have, but come on!”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Hyun,” Guiying reluctantly stepped away from the tiger, his gaze fixed on the gray-haired demon. “I understand your part, it makes sense, but how do you plan on combining mine and Su's lessons? Our subjects aren't related.” 

Rumi lifted the bowl to her lips again; this time it was easier, even the water didn’t spill as much.

She didn’t take her eyes off the three demons. They stared at each other in silence, with such intense focus it was as if they were trying to read one another’s minds. Or searching for each other’s weaknesses. Both options were possible.

The silence was broken by Ji-hun, his voice dripping with disbelief.

“Take her to the library, the archives, or other places where people go to learn.”

“Museums!” Uncle Hyun jumped up from his seat. “Take the Snip to museums. People take kids there all the time, which is kind of weird. Can you imagine? They go to these huge buildings and look at dried-up corpses in fancy clothes,” Rumi choked on her water, “or stuffed corpses. In general, there are a lot of corpses there.”

Uncle’s hand struck her back a few times until she could finally breathe normally.

Corpses.

What a terrifying concept—displaying the bodies of the dead like cups of ramyeon on store shelves. Didn’t humans bury their dead? Perhaps it was some strange tradition. But more importantly, what did corpses have to do with history? Guiying always spoke about how human flaws had shaped the fate of the human world—their pointless wars and strange traditions full of alliances and backstabbing. Maybe humans had found a way for the dead to tell the story of their lives. It was so strange.

“What do you think, Snip?”

She blinked, suddenly aware of three pairs of eyes watching her intently. Did she want to look at corpses? She licked her lips, now much less chapped.

“I… I mean… Corpses?”

“Corpses and swords, swords and corpses. Lots of cool stuff,” her uncle shrugged. Rumi’s mind was spinning. Swords were cool, corpses a bit less so. Her uncle went on, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Once I ended up in a museum full of toilets. That was weirder than cool, but apparently some guy decided it was the perfect place to leave the world of the living. Want to go there someday, Snip?”

Rumi opened her mouth, but no words came to mind, so she closed it again. She had the distinct feeling her uncle was teasing her. Okay, she could understand taking kids to look at corpses. That made some kind of sense. Twisted, but still. But toilets?

Guiying saved her from having to come up with an answer.

“Oh yes, we are absolutely not going there.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his tone leaving no room for discussion. Uncle groaned dramatically, which both demons ignored. “I think they rebuilt the Changdeokgun Palace some time ago. I’ve never been there, but we could take Jinu with us. If I remember correctly, he lived there for a while.”

Rumi ran her finger along the rim of the now-empty bowl. She hadn’t expected that. Jinu living in the human world? He must have been on an important mission from the King a long, long time ago.

“I remember when it was planned. It was such a mess,” Ji-hun said suddenly, shaking his head.

He sat down next to Guiying, the red ribbon coiled in his hand mocked Rumi. His words were like a switch. The demons began exchanging stories from times she couldn’t even imagine. She listened while picking at a scab on her hand. The dried part came off, a little blood welled up, but within moments a new scab was already forming.

She knew that in the human world there were still quiet places—not as quiet as The Realm, but quieter than the cities. Uncle and his companions spoke of a human world where there were no giant buildings of iron, concrete, and glass. Cars didn’t glide along the streets, and the air was clean and fresh.

In those stories, the human world seemed like a calmer reflection of The Realm—almost like a mirror image.

The demons’ conversation drifted toward war stories. Guiying went back to scratching the tiger behind the ear, only occasionally adding a word or two about administration or complaining about inaccuracies in the archives. Ji-hun muttered something about propaganda and the monarch’s prerogative.

Suddenly, uncle sprang to his feet, recounting some long-forgotten battle under the command of a long-dead general. It almost sounded as if he had fought on one of the sides himself.

Rumi wished she knew how to wield a sword. Ji-hun did it with such ease. Uncle Hyun, too. Both could handle the hwando with remarkable precision and in their hands the woldo and dangpa became even more dangerous. Yet their claws were their most lethal weapon.

Rumi’s lips moved before she even had time to think.

“When will I learn to wield a sword?”

“Oh yes! Sword fighting is great!” Uncle Hyun made a motion as if stabbing an invisible opponent. “I know a few cool tricks. The most important thing is-”

“You’re not going to run around the human world with a sword,” Ji-hun cut him off immediately. Rumi’s shoulders dropped. “You’d instantly become a target, not just for the hunters. A dagger will be more useful until you grow claws.” He rose from the ground, brushed the dust and dirt from his robe and turned toward the caves. “Break’s over. Let’s continue.”

 

---

 

There was one thing that made the practical lessons under Ji-hun’s supervision more awful than enjoyable—a cold bath after training.

Rumi couldn’t stand cold baths. She hated them with all her heart, with every fiber of her being.

They were inhuman. Or undemonic? They attacked every nerve in her body, set her muscles trembling uncontrollably, her teeth chattering as if they were about to shatter, and in the end her sore body became even more sore. On top of that, during them her skin was always covered with something Guiying called goosebumps.

She couldn’t escape it—uncle Hyun claimed that cold water had magical properties and if it would make Rumi stronger, she wasn’t about to give it up. Even if the alternative was being cleaned by the tiger and drowning in that warm, comforting feeling.

Who was she trying to fool? If it were up to her, she’d choose the tiger every time. It was warm, fluffy and it purred.

Rumi hissed through clenched teeth when suddenly what must have been an entire bucket of cold water landed on her head.

Cold cold cold.

Her hands rubbed her arms in a pitiful attempt to warm herself. It was deeply unfair that other demons, though fond of warmth, didn’t feel the cold. Not the way Rumi did, thanks to her human blood.

Gentle hands brushed her hair back, carefully combing through the strands.

“It’s getting a bit long,” a woman’s incredibly melodic voice sounded too close to her ear.

“I l-like them l-long,” Rumi tried to keep her voice steady, but her teeth were chattering too much. “I-I can w-wear them in a b-braid.”

“Hmm… Jinu thinks they might get in your way during a fight. Men…” she scoffed. “It’s a shame to cut them; you could do so many beautiful updos with hair like this. It’s so thick.” A clawed hand, smaller than that of any other demon Rumi knew, sank into her hair, scratching her scalp. A deep, rumbling sound escaped Rumi’s chest before she could stop it. “You jeoseung saja are such big softies, aren’t you?” she giggled as Rumi leaned into the touch.

“Very funny, Nari.”

Rumi barely registered Jinu’s snort, too focused on the pleasant sensation of the vixen’s claws on her head. If this was what paradise felt like, she intended to reach it no matter what. If only it weren’t for that cold water.

Nari giggled again. Her next words were a little husky, her voice lower. One might have used the word flirtatious , but Rumi couldn’t quite grasp what that was supposed to mean—something about courting humans and bending them to one’s will. It had to be a fox thing.

“Oh, that’s the truth, darling. You all try to look so terrifying and powerful. The great messengers of Gwi-Ma! But you’re always afraid to get your hands dirty.” Nari’s hand slid down her neck to the area near her left shoulder blade, sending shivers through Rumi and setting off alarm bells in her head. The purring grew quieter as her hair was brushed aside. “You try to stay so clean, collecting only souls, when so close lies the real treasure, just waiting to be unearthed.” The vixen whispered the last part almost tenderly, tracing circles at the height of Rumi’s heart with a claw.

The rumble in Rumi’s chest died instantly. Her back went rigid, her hands clenched on her knees so tightly her knuckles turned white. Every sound became too loud, every color too bright. The vixen was far too close. Her breath curled around Rumi’s neck, her scent—musk and something sweet—so intense it was almost suffocating.

Danger danger danger.

“Nari.”

Nari seemed not to notice the warning in Jinu’s voice. She straightened, her hand sliding further, leaving behind an almost burning sensation.

The sense of danger hadn’t passed, but Rumi no longer felt like a rabbit caught in a trap. One of her hands gripped the edge of the tub. The wood was slippery beneath her fingers.

“Have I ever lied, darling? The great and fearsome Jinu takes a cub to the bathhouse and waits outside like a well-behaved guard dog. It’s very cute.” Nari’s voice dripped with mischief as she lifted the washcloth. The rough fabric scraped over the skin of Rumi’s back with meticulous care, missing not a single spot.

“Don’t listen to her, Rumi! There’s no one better than us in the whole Realm. You know that!”

Truth be told, Rumi wasn’t paying much attention to their conversation, too focused on keeping her body from trembling and once again cataloguing all possible exits (she saw only two). Jinu and Nari had always loved to tease each other.

Their relationship was strange. Jinu was always reluctant to speak about kumiho, fox demons, and when he did, it always came down to the same few words: malicious, bloodthirsty creatures who loved mischief. Then they met Nari. Jinu never took his eyes off her, growling in warning whenever she got too close to Rumi.

Only recently had Rumi realized that their sharp-tongued exchanges had shifted from openly hostile to much, much less so.

Would Rumi also find people with whom she could share that kind of closeness? She very much hoped so. It seemed nice.

“And so modest and humble!”

“Exactly,” said Jinu with unwavering conviction. “Strong, magnificent and humble. Absolutely.”

The vixen snorted. Rumi could picture her characteristic smirk—one corner of her mouth curling a little higher, amber eyes half-lidded, right ear flicking twice.

“At least the cub isn't afraid to get dirty,” Nari hummed, the washcloth gently massaging her neck. “I hear you like squirrels, Rumi.”

Rumi needed a moment to gather her thoughts, too distracted by the pleasant sensation along her back. She felt almost at ease.

“Y-yes. And rabbits.”

“Hmm… You’ll be visiting the human world soon, won’t you?” Rumi gave a short, almost imperceptible nod. “You should try a human heart sometime. It’s delicious. Sweet like the scent of spring flowers, warm like the summer sun. Better than the most delicious rabbit you could ever eat.”

Meat sweet like the scent of spring flowers… Blood warm like the summer sun…

No! No human flesh. She must take care. She must remember.

“I’d prefer you not encourage her to do that. As you said, we are jeoseung saja; it does not befit us to devour human bodies.”

Jinu drummed his claws against the floor.

Rumi turned her head ever so slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her brother’s silhouette casting a shadow on the folding screen. He sat with one knee drawn up to his chest, head turned to the side, as if afraid his eyes might pierce through the paper barrier.

“Well, Rumi is only half, isn’t she?”

Rumi’s hands clenched around her knees with the force of a vise, her face twisting into a grimace. Sometimes she wished she could forget she wasn’t a full demon.

“She can already satisfy her hunger with blood and human food, and training can only do so much. Have you tried gathering souls yet, Rumi? I don’t think so. It’s not easy. Many young foxes struggle with it. I struggled with it. Souls are alive, powerful. Tearing them from the body isn’t easy if they don’t want to leave on their own. But taking them along with the body? That's a different story.”

Rumi had never before considered that her blood might affect her ability to be a reaper. And if it did? She didn’t want to be like the faceless—those stripped of the reaper’s noble purpose of remembering, who devoured soulless bodies in the hope of pitiful scraps.

Without eyes, nose, or ears—anything that might even slightly distinguish them from formless monsters—they sniffed the air with open maws full of sharp teeth and lunged at anything that had come into contact with souls. The lowest possible rank of demons, mindless, grotesque beasts driven by instinct alone.

They tried to attack Rumi several times. They reached toward her with thin limbs tipped with fingers far too long, snapping their jaws while growling and rasping. They were like starving animals. Like worms feeding on a plant until it died—and they with it.

Rumi did not want to be like them.

Never.

“Oh!” The vixen let out a surprised sound. She was now running the washcloth between Rumi’s shoulder blades, massaging in small circles, until she finally reached her right bicep. “Look, Rumi, your patterns have spread again!”

The tension left Rumi’s body. She turned her head, trying to find the spot Nari’s finger had been tracing, but now it had vanished onto her back. A claw pressed lightly against her skin, following the new, jagged lines. So that’s where the markings had spread this time. Good to know.

Leaving the bathhouse, Rumi’s head felt lighter, her tight braid reached just above her shoulder blades, and her body was wrapped in clean clothes. Inside her, however, a storm was raging. The pressure on her skin was sudden, merciless, as if one stronger push might pop her like a balloon.

“Rumi!”

She jumped, her eyes sweeping the area in search of danger, just as Jinu’s claw tapped her cheek.

“Heh, I was afraid the fox had cast some kind of spell on you.”

“She didn’t,” she said, furrowing her brows. “Can Nari even do that?”

“Maybe? Foxes are cunning, I’m sure she’d come up with something. She’s a sly beast. Sometimes she’s almost as bad as Sussie. Can you imagine if they started working together?” He shuddered. “That would be the end of us.”

Rumi couldn’t help but snort with laughter at the thought of Nari and Sussie joining forces. The magpie hated the vixen just as much as the vixen hated the magpie.

“Laugh all you want. You’ll remember my words someday,” he chuckled. The brim of his hat cast part of his face into shadow, making his eyes seem to shine even brighter. “Aha, Su-bin is already waiting.”

He raised a hand above his head and waved toward the dark figure standing by the crumbling gate.

Rumi hesitated. Only for a split second, a small stumble in her step, but Jinu noticed.

“Hey, it’s going to be fine. It’s just a day in the human world; you’ve been there plenty of times. You’ll be fine.”

But never in the city. And never alone.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine,” she said, though even to her own ears her voice sounded weak.

“Good.” A clawed hand patted her on the shoulder. “Su-bin will keep an eye on you, and in the evening Sussie and I will come pick you up. Good luck.”

Notes:

At first, Abby was just trying to be the “cool uncle” so he could cross it off his to-do list. You know—show up, annoy the kid, go catch squirrels, vanish. But somewhere along the way, he actually started caring about Rumi. Now he looks out for her, in demonic, very Abby way. Also, his idea of what a museum is... well, he's not exactly wrong.

And yes, the toilet museum is real. I checked.

Chapter 11

The air was damp and cool, but not so much that Rumi needed to wrap her hoodie tighter around herself.  From afar came the soft murmur of water, birds chirped in the trees. The sounds of the city were distant enough not to overwhelm with their intensity, though Rumi knew that would change soon. Unfortunately.

A low mist hovered close to the ground. It curled between the trees, wrapping the earth like a shaggy blanket. Thick enough to hide the buildings beyond the trees, yet near at hand the colors kept their vivid, saturated hue.

Rumi really liked the color of the grass. In the spot where she stood, a lighter shade of earth broke through the green. It stretched out like a stain on clothing, in an unnaturally rectangular shape. At both ends stood white structures. This was one of those places where humans came to spend time chasing after a ball. Rumi had never found the courage to join them, though she very much wanted to.

“Got everything?”

Su-bin looked around, his disguise flawless. Jinu and uncle Hyun sometimes felt strange in their human forms, as if their illusions were too perfect, making them feel not entirely real. Su-bin, however, was impossible to distinguish from a human. Somehow, he retained his demonic grace, yet there was a certain imperfection to his movements—a slightly uneven step, fingers that moved a bit too slowly, frequent blinking and constant fidgeting—small details so natural to humans. His hair had lost its pink hue in favor of a light brown, and his face had softened. Even his usually intense scent—ash and sweet wood—had faded into more subtle notes. If Rumi hadn’t known better, she would never have guessed he was a demon. She wondered if the disguise would fool the hunters as well. They had human weaknesses, so probably yes.

Rumi patted her bag. Two pens, a notebook, a small pouch of money—everything was in its place.

“Yes.”

“Do you remember what you’re supposed to do?”

“Yes.”

A man in bright clothing ran past along the nearby path. They both followed him with their eyes until the heavy sounds of his breathing and his feet striking the gravel faded away, and he disappeared into the mist.

“I’d like to hear it.”

“I have to go to the library, write a short essay on naval battles during the Imjin War, and…” She licked her lips, the next part drying her throat. “And survive until nightfall.”

Su-bin nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

“Good. Remember to come back here. I’ll be nearby, but I won’t interfere.” He smiled that strange smile of his—not unkind, not warm. “Try not to die, and good luck.”

And just like that, he vanished in a cloud of red smoke, leaving Rumi alone.

She swallowed, feeling far less confident than she should have. The city wasn’t unfamiliar; she had visited it a few times before with Su-bin, mostly to get to know the area. But it was still the city—loud, chaotic, and ever-changing and for the first time, Rumi was in the human world on her own.

She clenched her trembling hands into fists, holding them that way until her knuckles turned white and her fingers began to lose some of their strength, only then relaxing them. She repeated the motion a few times, and soon her hands were steady

The blue threads of Honmoon flowed between her fingers like water, tugging at her chest. Wherever they touched her skin, she felt a pleasant warmth.

I will take care of you. I will guide you. You’ll be fine, it hummed. Follow me. Come, come, come.

Honmoon was right, she would be fine. She’d been to the library before. Now she only needed to reach the street and from there everything should be easier. It wasn’t as if a faceless demon would jump out from around the corner. Probably. Honmoon seemed strong enough.

As if to confirm it, Honmoon rippled. The threads rose like a wave, urging her to move.

She sighed and started toward the path. Her task—or exam, as everyone except her uncle liked to call it—was relatively simple. Everything had been planned so that she wouldn’t accidentally run into a huntress. From an overheard conversation, she had learned that Yun-seo was leading a raid on the other side of the country, so Rumi was as safe as she could possibly be.

The harder part would be blending into the crowd. But maybe, with Honmoon at her side, it wouldn’t be so difficult.

Remember to blink, don’t stare at people too intensely, fidget, don’t make inhuman sounds—she repeated it like a mantra. There were more rules, but these were the most important and, unfortunately, the hardest to follow.

Humans were so strange.

Gravel crunched beneath her feet. A man on a bicycle passed along the path, leaving behind, like an invisible thread, a sharp citrus scent hanging in the air. Rumi wrinkled her nose and quickened her pace, wanting to reach untainted air as soon as possible.

She didn’t understand why humans chose to mask their natural scent. For some, it was just a hint of that artificial fragrance, barely noticeable until one came close. Those weren’t so bad. Others drowned in it, and when they later moved along the streets or crowded into rooms, the air became thick and biting. It scraped at the throat, clogged the nose, settled on the tongue like a foul film, and erased all other smells. Rumi hated being near those people. She always felt as though someone had taken away one of her ways of perceiving the world. Did their homes smell like that too? If so, they must have been very sad homes.

She found the stone steps—the same ones she had climbed several times before with Su-bin. The mist was slowly fading, but the dampness remained, making the steps slick and treacherous. The sounds of the city had grown louder. The rumble of cars, no longer muffled by rows of trees and the grassy slope, carried far, burrowing into Rumi’s skull.

Her foot hovered over the last step. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the noise would only grow. But the library was quiet—if she got there quickly, she could wait out the worst of it. Maybe later, when people had calmed down a bit, she could spend some time having fun. 

She pulled up her thick hood and nodded with determination. It was a good plan. Exactly as Ji-hun had taught—use every available opportunity to gain the maximum advantage.

Rumi couldn’t quite describe how she had made it to the library. There had been too much of everything. It felt as though the road had turned into one long blur of engine roars, the stench of exhaust fumes, and blinding sunlight that had finally chased away the mist and the morning dampness entirely.

She remembered the fear settling deep in her stomach when she stood before a wide road—six lanes full of speeding cars separating her from her destination in the city. She had run up to a small group of people waiting for the light on the other side to change. No one paid her any attention. She didn’t stand out, not when among the group there were other children with bags even larger than the one hanging from Rumi’s shoulder.

The lights changed. Rumi wondered what kind of magic humans used that a flash of red could so easily bring entire hordes of cars to a halt. Even the King didn’t have such power over the faceless.

The library wasn’t the largest building, but its entire front wall, made of blue glass, felt overwhelming.

Rumi climbed the steps. The glass doors slid open as soon as she approached—another incredible display of human magic—and the moment they closed behind her, all the noises of the city fell silent. Almost all; she could still hear the piercing wail of an alarm, stabbing into her ears like pins and needles, sending her muscles into a constant state of alert.

The interior was bright, full of white walls and even more glass. The white ceiling lights buzzed softly, and the air carried a distinctive scent Rumi couldn’t quite place—one that always lingered in libraries and archives, whether in the human world or in The Realm.

She followed the familiar route. She passed a colorful room with a large sign ‘Children Reading Room’ and headed toward the place where she knew she would find the books that interested her. Along the way, she passed many rooms filled to the brim with tables holding those strange devices that displayed all sorts of images. She had never dared to approach any of them—sometimes they emitted growling sounds, and their operation seemed needlessly complicated.

“Imjin War… Imjin War…” she muttered as she entered a room with far too many bookshelves. 

She found the history section and felt lost. Thick and thin books, brightly colored ones smelling of ink, and faded ones with yellowed pages steeped in the scent of sweat and grease rose from the very floor to well above her head.

Rumi wasn't short, at least not like she had been a few years ago. Her limbs had stretched, and now, standing on tiptoe, she could grab uncle Hyun's arms. The highest shelves, however, were still far beyond her reach.

She could hear people bustling between the shelves, the rustle of turning pages, the thump of a book hitting a table. She could ask them for help, but… She glanced out of the corner of her eye at a woman passing by, her steps muffled by the blue carpet. No, she would manage. She would search the lower shelves and not bother anyone. She would stay hidden. Yes, that should be more than enough.

It wasn’t enough. Cruel fate forced Rumi to approach the librarian. She arranged the words she wanted to use in her mind, took a deep breath and put on a smile, hoping it would look real enough.

“Excuse me… Umm… Good morning,” she said, drawing the attention of a woman with a round face and short-cropped hair. “I’m looking for books on the Imjin War. I’m mostly interested in naval battles. So, umm… Could you tell me where I might find them?”

She could proudly say she hadn’t stammered even once and had remembered all the polite phrases. She had even blinked three times! If Su-bin was anywhere nearby, he had better remember this clearly. She could talk to people without arousing suspicion.

Some time later, Rumi sat at a small table tucked between a tall, broad-leafed plant and a column bearing a large graphic of a stern-looking man. She cast a suspicious glance at a young man standing nearby with strings in his ears, from which a muffled rhythm was escaping, and when no one else approached, she allowed herself to relax a little.

Two books, one thicker than the other, landed on the table, alongside a notebook with a cute turtle on the cover and two pens. She didn’t know why she had chosen that particular notebook—she had simply decided it was the right one the moment she saw it on the store shelf. Perhaps she hoped it would make her work more pleasant? The notebook must have worked, because the work was truly a pleasure.

Guiying had been guiding her through the Imjin War, recounting battles and the deeds of great generals. They had even reenacted two of those clashes, arranging wooden figurines on the stone tabletop and sliding them along invisible lines. Back then, Rumi had listened with fascination to the feats of Admiral Yi. But now, able to trace his maneuvers on detailed maps unknown in The Realm, she began to truly grasp the brilliance of his mind.

It was truly a pity that more demons didn’t study human achievements. However weak humans might be, if demons possessed even a fraction of their ingenuity, the hunters would have been defeated long ago, and Rumi could travel freely between worlds.

When she finally became a reaper and found her own companions, she would bring about changes. If they proved effective, the King and the Advisors would take notice, and perhaps more demons would start acting in the same way. After all, Jinu and his companions had prided themselves on excellent results for centuries.

The golden, almost orange glow of the sun streamed through the large windows. Rumi closed her notebook, now thinner by several pages. Her head was spinning with battle plans, military maneuvers, and curious details about ship construction. She would have gladly stayed longer in the library—the corner was comfortable and quiet—but her stomach twisted with hunger, her wrist ached from holding the pen for so long, and the staff’s glances were drifting toward her more and more often. What she had written should be enough.

The streets were still noisy, but the earlier rush had faded. Rumi lifted her face toward the sun; its warm light wrapped her cheeks, dancing across her eyelids in pink and orange spots. Honmoon rippled, humming softly. Oh, if not for the noise of the city, she could have stood there, and stood, and stood.

Rumi sniffed. Beneath the thick layer of exhaust fumes and heated asphalt, a delicate scent of nuts, salt, and rice lingered in the air. Her stomach growled, urging her to follow its trail.

The building was small, squeezed between two larger ones, looking as if it had sprouted there by accident. Its walls, plastered with large yellow and red letters, seemed to shout at passersby that this was the place to eat kimbap. Rumi pushed the door open, and the smell hit her with the force of a dokkaebi’s club. She needed a moment to get used to it.

The kimbap was good. As good as human food could be, but as Rumi chewed it, she might just as well have been eating one of those flavorless souls. The empty chair beside her felt wrong too. Jinu should have been sitting there, scratching out new melodies on a sheet of paper. Or uncle Hyun, doing that strange thing with his face that turned all the older ladies into a fluttering, blushing messes. Or the usually quiet Su-bin, who only occasionally opened his mouth to softly explain human behaviors that were beyond Rumi’s understanding. 

But Rumi was alone, and somehow that made the food not as good as it should have been. As if the emptiness in her chest were trying to fill itself with everything pleasant—and yet ‘everything’ was still not enough.

Well, Rumi wasn’t entirely alone. Honmoon was with her. Only hunger and that quiet melody of blue threads kept her seated on the wooden chair at the small table with its laminated top, wedged into the narrow space between the wall and the door.

She emptied her plate faster than usual, too eager to return to the sunlight. In the sun, with warm rays on her skin and the gentle brush of the wind, being alone didn’t feel quite so heavy.

It was a shame the tall buildings cast deep shadows on the streets. Rumi exhaled through her nose in exactly the same irritated way Ji-hun did whenever she made an especially foolish mistake during training. She didn’t feel any difference that would justify the gesture. She shrugged and walked on.

She had a vague feeling that she was supposed to go somewhere. To a very specific place. A blue thread—pale and fragile, so different from the rest of Honmoon, yet somehow completing it beautifully—was leading Rumi step by step. It was loud, every so often jerking sharply, almost like a whip. Its rhythm was distinctly out of sync with the others.

Rumi stretched out her fingers, but they passed through the thread as if through air. No resistance. No warm tingling.

Nothing.

She frowned. Usually, Honmoon allowed her to touch it. It would coil around her fingers like earthworms, and its music would resonate deep within her bones. Rumi reached out again, trying to grasp the thread, but once more, nothing happened.

Follow, follow, follow.

For the first time, Rumi thought that Honmoon might be mocking her. She clenched her fingers frantically. She had to catch the thread, pull it, ask it about its secrets—but when her fingers passed through it yet again, the thread grew even paler, almost disappearing entirely.

She let out a growl full of irritation, her hands instantly flying to her mouth, her legs freezing in place as if rooted to the ground, and her eyes darting to both sides of the street. No, no, no! She wasn’t supposed to make inhuman sounds. She was supposed to be just another child wandering the streets—a small, harmless human slipping right under the huntresses’ noses.

One breath. Second breath. Third breath. A quick glance at the people around her.

Two elderly women on the opposite side of the street engaged in a heated discussion, a man with a briefcase tucked under his arm hurrying toward his car, and three boys—too young to pass for adults, too old to be children—none of them seemed to notice her slip. There were others as well, but their weak, human senses shouldn’t have been able to pick up the growl. Not amid the roar of cars and the screech of machinery from the nearby construction site.

A coolness rose from the grass, slowly turning into the evening mist. It was a funny feeling—the warm air, heated by the last rays of the sun, colliding with the moisture rising from the ground. High on the hill, just before the tree line where the sunlight still reached, the difference in temperature wasn’t as noticeable.

Rumi stretched her legs far out in front of her, braced herself on her hands, and lifted her face to the sun. The soft sound of cicadas mingled with the shouts of men chasing after a ball. It was a strange kind of peace—different from the almost dead silence that reigned in The Realm, or the drowsy stillness of human villages when the sun had slipped below the horizon and the moon and stars ruled the sky. This peace felt like respite, a deep breath in the frantic rush of life. Even Honmoon seemed to be absorbing it, its threads rippling calmly, like the slow, lazy beats of a heart.

No wonder humans longed for a moment of respite. The time when the world paused between day and night seemed to be the only possible one. At any other moment, their lives appeared so rigid, relentlessly devoted to clocks and their endlessly circling hands. They vanished from the streets with the sun (why would they need to sleep so often, and only at a set time?), with the sun they set off to work (so much time lost for the sake of money), and when the sun was at its highest, they went to eat (sad that they couldn’t even eat when they truly desired to).

She lifted one eyelid to peek at the game. Then she lifted the other when the game became more interesting. There had to be rules—unknown to Rumi, yet strictly enforced by humans. Outraged shouts when someone touched the ball with their hand, or cheers when that same ball landed in one of the white structures, gave her some idea of the basics.

Her eyes followed the ball as intently as they would squirrels darting between trees. Until, from among the trees, a gray-blue bird flew out. It landed on the ground, pecking at something only it could see among the blades of grass. Three hops to the right, two forward…

For a brief moment, the only thing surrounding Rumi was that bird and the flutter of its tiny heart. The sound called and called. A sweet promise of an even sweeter gift hidden just beneath its feathered skin. She wet her lips. She could almost feel that wonderful taste on her tongue—the warm liquid sliding down her throat, the tender meat yielding beneath sharp teeth, the bones snapping like twigs underfoot on a forest floor.

The bird didn’t see her. It cooed as it preened its feathers, completely unaware of the danger lurking just a few meters away. Such easy prey.

Honmoon hummed. Rumi blinked, suddenly aware that she had moved several steps closer, crouched in a hunter’s stance. She wasn’t supposed to chase animals. Not when there were still plenty of people nearby, and she was meant to be pretending to be one of them. Yet the urge was immense.

Turning her head away was difficult—an effort comparable to climbing yet another cliff under her uncle’s watchful eye. Returning to her spot was even harder. She pressed her hands to her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek hard enough for the sting of her teeth to radiate into her awareness. Anything to fight the temptation.

Honmoon rippled again, more strongly this time, and the air moved with it as music drifted from afar. Rumi pricked up her ears. She knew this song. It was played in many shops and eateries so often that its words had etched themselves into her memory.

Rumi hummed and Honmoon answered. It swirled around her, lifting toward the now deep navy sky. There were no stars—the glow of the city lights wouldn’t allow them to be seen. That saddened Rumi. The blue lines immediately responded to her change in mood, brushing her cheek and wrapping around her hands.

The humans were gone, and the grass lay in silence, broken only by Rumi’s quiet singing, Honmoon’s humming, and the chirping of cicadas.

The song ended, almost at once another began—slower, more sorrowful. Rumi didn’t remember all the words. In some places she filled in her own, in others she simply hummed, and Honmoon accompanied her.

For complete happiness, only Jinu and his bipa were missing. Rumi had sung with him in The Realm, but she wished she could hear how their songs would sound alongside the cicadas and the rustle of the trees.

A cool wind carried the scent of water, swayed the trees, and bore Rumi’s voice far away, lighting up Honmoon. She breathed in the night air, her hand slapping flat against her thigh in a steady rhythm.

“See, you’re not so bad after all,” she whispered, weaving the blue threads with her other hand.

Sing, sing, sing.

Rumi sang. Another song in tune with Honmoon’s vibrations.

A buzzing light cut across the sky. Rumi tilted her head back, watching it until it vanished behind the ragged clouds. She drew in a breath, ready to sing the next verse, when suddenly a clawed hand clamped painfully down on her shoulder.

She sprang to her feet, her other hand already poised to claw, teeth bared. The grip was too strong. She growled and snarled, bracing her legs against the ground. She swung her arm to tear and suddenly the world dissolved into a swirl of colors.

She landed on solid ground. The damp air, the gentle breeze, and the cicadas were gone. Honmoon fell silent. The scent of dust and ash struck her nose and above her hung a red sky like a silent threat.

A clawed hand yanked her closer to the demon.

“J-Jinu?” she stammered, recognizing the face. “What- What are you doing?”

Jinu bared his teeth and growled—not in that irritated way he sometimes did when she interrupted his work, but a true, furious snarl, with fangs exposed and yellow eyes slit by narrow pupils, glowing with magenta patterns. True demonic rage.

“You will never ever sing in the human world again,” he snarled, the words barely understandable through the rumble in his throat. “Am I clear?”

“W-why…? Jinu?”

Jinu’s hand tightened on her shoulder, claws piercing through the thick hoodie and sinking into her skin. “Am. I. Clear?”

Why was Jinu hurting her? Had she done something wrong? Jinu had never growled at her like this before. The Advisors and other demons, yes—but never Jinu. Not her Brother. Not her Jinu. He had always protected her from the other demons. So why? Did she fail the test? Did she do something wrong?

Rumi’s breathing quickened. She stared at her brother with wide eyes and trembling lips. She tried to wrench her arm free, but his grip was too strong.

“Jinu…”

His claws tightened again, pulling her closer. Their faces were level now, noses almost touching.

“I intend to keep that damn promise,” he growled. “And if that means you won’t sing on the other side, then it means you won’t. Am I clear?” Rumi could only blink, too terrified to force out any words. “Am I clear?”

She nodded.

“Y-yes,” she managed, the words barely passing through her clenched throat.

The claws released and Rumi immediately yanked her arm back, pressing it to her chest. It hurt. It hurt more than it had any right to.

Jinu exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. The patterns dimmed to an ordinary purple.

“I…” he sighed. “Go back to the hut, Rumi.”

Pressing her hand to her chest, Rumi walked past Jinu. She didn’t turn her back to him until the hut’s door slammed shut behind her. The tiger lifted its head from where it lay comfortably on the mattress. Rumi’s lips trembled, heat grow behind her eyes, and her heart raced.

She shuffled over to the mattress and buried her face in the tiger’s fur. A muffled sob escaped her throat, her vision blurring. Massive paws drew her close, wrapping her in the safe embrace of the purring spirit. The rough tongue licked away the tears.

Why had Jinu acted that way?

Why, why, why?