Night draped itself over the Huntrix building like a heavy velvet curtain. City lights blinked through the sheer balcony curtains, casting patterns of gold and blue across Yena's walls-the rhythm of life still moving outside, unaware of the quiet war inside her chest.
She sat on the edge of her bed, the lyric sheet spread across her lap like something fragile she wasn't sure she wanted to touch. Momo lay curled beside her, his paws tucked neatly beneath his chin, chest rising with slow, steady breaths.
Yena's fingers threaded gently through his fur. Her stylus rested on the duvet next to her, the playback controls paused, the room steeped in soft silence.
She inhaled before singing the bridge section, just to test out her range.
(Reference: Takedown by Huntrix bridge part)
Oh, you're the master of illusion103Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDruGkob9lK
나를 속이려 하지마 [Nareul sogiryeo hajima]103Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqWuqLX8fMU
Look at all the masses that you're foolin'103Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAKR4BFzuVq
But they'll turn on you soon, so how?103Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMdEoEdTcOW
How can you sleep or live with yourself?103Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeMrKhWKrhH
A broken soul trapped in the nastiest shell103Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXJSsGtQZjK
용혼 없는 네 목숨을 근어러 and watch you die [Yonghon eomneun ne moksumeul geuneoreo and watch you die]
The melody rose through her throat, shaped with technical grace, but cracked around the edges. The bridge sounded brilliant, structurally speaking, but it felt like poison in her tongue.
The tone curled inward like a fist. There was no catharsis in the delivery, only confrontation. Only curated to deliver shame.
Yena's brows furrowed. She tried again, adjusting harmony, layering her voice in soft thirds. No matter how she polished the notes, the essence remained cruel. Designed to make the target small and only intensified the sting even more.
Her throat tightened. She reached for the chorus-tried to hum a line of redemption into it; however, the shift wasn't authentic.
Momo stirred, nudging her wrist gently.
She glanced down, then up again at the lyric sheet. The lines blurred slightly. Her breath caught.
"They deserved it," she whispered to herself more than anyone.
Those Demons. The chaos they brought, but one face surfaced uninvited in her mind. One set of eyes-not cruel, not proud. Just watching her.
Romance.
She imagined singing that bridge directly at him, imagining the guilt it would summon. Not from him, but in her. She saw the flicker in his gaze, and she felt the silence that settled between them when he held her arms.
Yena clutched the edge of the sheet. She closed her eyes as tears began to prick. Her voice that was meant to heal now felt like a blade being used by others.
Even if they deserve judgment, she thought, are we the ones meant to deliver it?
Yena stood in the hallway, the lyric sheet folded tightly in her hand, edges creased from the pressure of her grip. The corridor was dim, lit only by the soft glow of wall sconces and the distant hum of the building's nighttime wards. Momo had stayed curled on her bed, sensing her unease but not following.
She had planned to speak with Rumi first. Rumi was the most measured, the one who was most likely to listen. Her room was closest, just down the hall, second door on the left.
Yena approached quietly, her boots barely making a sound against the polished floor.
She raised her hand to knock, then paused as she heard voices inside. Muffled, but clear enough. She leaned in, just slightly, her fingers hovering near the wood.
Mira's voice rang first-sharp, skeptical. "Why are you changing the lyrics? We agreed the chorus was the punch. The whole point."
Rumi's reply came slower, more thoughtful. "It's too hateful. It doesn't feel like us."
"It feels like truth," Mira countered. "We hate them and what they are."
Rumi sighed. "Still. It's not a warning anymore. It's a weapon."
Yena's breath caught. She hadn't expected Rumi to echo her thoughts.
Then Mira's voice shifted cooler, edged with something else. "You're starting to sound like Yena."
Rumi didn't flinch. "Maybe because I understand her hesitation."
"Hesitation?" Mira scoffed. "She's learning the bridge right now. I heard from Zoey that she's been rehearsing it in her room."
Yena blinked. She thought she was doing it in secret as she hadn't committed to it yet. She'd only tested it once and broken down.
"She's probably trying to make peace with it," Rumi spoke. "You and I both know how Yena can be a pacifist when it comes to songwriting."
"You're giving her too much credit. She's been off since the Fan Meet. And don't think I didn't notice you cozying up to Jinu." Mira's tone sharpened. "While she was stuck beside Romance."
Rumi's voice dropped. "I wasn't cozying. I was degrading him."
"You said 'Woo Jinu.' Like what was that for?"
"It was sarcasm."
"It didn't sound like sarcasm."
Yena's heart thudded. She doesn't recall that moment during the Fan Meet. She'd been drowning in tension beside Romance, and no one had noticed.
Rumi added, "Yena was doing well. She handled it like a trooper."
Mira groaned. "You're ignoring the fact that she's being targeted. That he's circling her like she's prey."
An awkward silence before Rumi said quietly, "She didn't look like prey. As far as I know, Yena is a rock. Demons like them can't easily break her."
Yena stepped back from the door, her breath shallow. She didn't knock. She couldn't anymore. She turned and walked back down the hall, lyric sheet still clenched in her hand, her thoughts louder than the conversation she'd just fled.
The dormitory was steeped in silence. Not the peaceful kind. The kind that felt staged-like a curtain drawn over something still moving behind it.
Yena sat cross-legged on her bed, and the glow of her phone dimmed to black. Momo lay curled beside her, tail twitching in sleep. The lyrics she'd been working on blurred in her mind, replaced by fragments of a conversation she hadn't meant to overhear.
"She didn't look like prey. As far as I know, Yena is a rock. Demons like them can't easily break her." Rumi's voice. Soft, almost wistful, had given her so much credit, too much credit, like she didn't care for her at all.
And then there was Jinu.
The quietest of the Saja Boys. The one who rarely spoke unless it mattered. Yena had always seen him as the stoic and composed one, the kind of leader who didn't need to shout to be obeyed. But lately, she'd noticed something else.
She hadn't thought much of it then. But now, it echoed with a strange weight. A sharpness beneath the calm. A precision in how he moved, how he watched.
She remembered the Fan Meet. That fleeting moment when she'd glanced across the room and caught Rumi and Jinu mid-conversation. Jinu had leaned in, saying something low, his gaze steady.
Yena didn't want to believe it. Not Rumi, who had been Huntrix's fearless leader, but the feeling wouldn't leave.
So, she waited.
Hours passed. The dormitory settled into its nightly rhythm. Mira's room went dark. Zoey's speakers finally stopped humming. Even the hallway wards dimmed to their lowest setting, their soft blue glow flickering like tired stars.
Yena slipped out of bed. She moved quietly, hoodie pulled tight, socks muffling her steps. The hallway was cool against her skin, the air tinged with the faint scent of sage and lavender. Rumi's calming blend, diffused nightly from her room.
Yena paused outside Rumi's door, with no light beneath it. No sounds of snoring or bed shifting.
She knocked once. Nothing.
She knocked again, a little firmer—still nothing.
Her pulse quickened. She glanced down the hallway, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a bobbing pin. One she'd used for stage hair, now repurposed with quiet precision. She knelt, inserted it into the lock, and twisted gently.
Click. The door eased open as Yena stepped inside slowly, breath held.
Rumi's bed was untouched. The blanket was folded with surgical neatness. Her desk was immaculate, no scattered notes, no open books. Her phone lay powered off, screen smudged faintly with fingerprints. The lavender scent was stronger here, but it felt... wrong. Like a cover-up. Yena's eyes scanned the room. No signs of recent use. No hoodie on the hook.
She backed out of the room, closed the door silently, making sure to lock it again before leaning against the wall. Her heart was pounding. She's not in her room at this hour, which means...
Yena slid down the wall, knees drawn to her chest, staring at the closed door. Her worst lingering doubt was starting to become a reality. She couldn't believe it; she didn't want to assume things before seeing it herself.
The hallway was dim, lit only by the soft amber glow of the emergency sconces. Yena moved like a ghost, her steps careful, deliberate. She didn't want to wake anyone, not Momo, not the others.
Her room greeted her with silence. The walls still held the faint scent of incense from earlier, and her notebook lay open on the desk, half-filled with lyrics she couldn't finish. She peeled off her hoodie, the fabric damp with sweat and tension, and changed into something quieter-black joggers, a fitted long-sleeve, her Norigae tucked beneath the hem like a secret.
She paused by the mirror.
Her reflection stared back with tired eyes, clenched jaw, and the weight of duty pressing down on her shoulders. She tied her blonde hair back loosely, letting a few strands fall free, then she stepped onto the balcony.
The city stretched before her, glittering and indifferent. The wards shimmered faintly around the building's perimeter, a soft hum in the air. She pressed two fingers to the edge of the barrier, whispered the override phrase, and slipped through.
The wind caught her as she leapt. Her feet landed on the rooftop below with a muted thud, knees bent. She sprinted across the tiles, leapt again, and vanished into the night.
She didn't know what she expected to find, only that she had to go forward. The place where she'd usually encounter Romance stood like a memory. She slowed as she approached. Her thoughts tangled like vines. Why am I doing this? I'm acting like he'll just... randomly show up when I need him. Like we're that close...
She shook her head sharply, forcing the thought away. Focus Yena. This is about Rumi. We're only doing this to find answers. She stepped forward again, boots crunching softly against gravel.
Until a whisper spoke right behind her. "Looking for me?"
Yena spun, hand raised in reflex.
Romance stood there. Carrying his charming facade as usual, as if he'd been anticipating her arrival. His chestnut-colored, unbuttoned cardigan fluttered slightly in the breeze, eyes gleaming with that unreadable expression she hated, half dreamy amusement, and the other half with suspicious intent.
She exhaled sharply, lowering her hand. "You need to stop doing that."
He tilted his head. "You keep coming back to me. I assume you enjoy a little surprise every once in a while."
She didn't rise to the bait. Her voice steadied. "I need to ask you something important."
Romance's expression shifted with subtle intrigue about what she has to say.
"Do you know anything about what Jinu has been doing as of late?" she asked.
"Jinu?" He blinked. "Why ask?"
Yena nodded. "You and the others are attached to him on the hip. You might know something's off."
Romance's gaze narrowed slightly, but he didn't speak right away. Deep inside, he knew everything.
Jinu's quiet maneuvering plan. The way he'd approached the other Hunter was with calculated empathy. The late-night meetings. The subtle conversation. The way Jinu had positioned himself as someone who understood her doubts, someone who could offer her clarity in her patterns.
But Romance didn't say any of that. He'd rather keep his mouth shut about that for now, so much so that he needs Yena to fall for his schemes and not get involved with others.
Instead, an idea forms in his mind, and he shrugged lightly. "How would I know? Jinu keeps his affairs closed off even from us."
Yena frowned. "So, you don't know anything?"
Romance watched her carefully; he sensed doubt coming off her. "I know he's good at making people feel seen, especially when they're vulnerable."
Yena went quiet, unable to form a response. Her thoughts went rampant, questioning if she had neglected seeing anything wrong with her friends.
Romance stepped closer, voice lower now. "I've been suspicious of him, too. Days ago."
Yena's eyes snapped to his, choosing not to comment but let him proceed.
"He left us on our own. I got fed up with it and tracked him to the edge of the city," He continued.
Romance's gaze didn't waver. "He was meeting with a fellow hunter of yours. Her name was Rumi, if I remember it right."
The words landed like a blade. Yena staggered back, knees buckling as she dropped to the ground, palms hitting the pavement.
"No. No, she wouldn't. She couldn't do this." Yena's breath hitched. She stared at the ground, eyes wide, chest heaving.
Romance didn't move. He let the silence speak for itself.
Yena's voice cracked. "You're sure?"
He nodded once. "I saw them. I didn't hear what they said, but I was sure it was them."
Yena pressed her hands to her face, tears threatening. She stayed there for a long moment, crouched in the dirt, the weight of everything pressing down on her. She was staring at her hands.
They trembled slightly, not from cold, but from the weight of what she just heard. Betrayal wasn't loud, but it hurt the most. She was hoping that he was lying to her and would say it was all a joke just to get a reaction, but no grand revelation came.
Yena looked up, eyes rimmed red. "I don't want to believe it."
She swallowed hard, letting her thoughts take over. Maybe Jinu's manipulating her... that's got to be the reason...
Romance crouched beside her, closer than usual. "Deep down, Yena, what do you truly think?"
Yena stared at him. She didn't know what scared her more, that Rumi was being manipulated, or that she was willingly seeing Jinu in secret. Her heart twisted and utterly divided as her loyalty was gradually fading bit by bit.
ns216.73.217.128da2
and then Add to home screen.