Quick Author's Note: Hello, I know this chapter might seem hollow. It's intentional, trust me. This is also a chapter without Romance in it, but I know some of you want to see him again. Yes, I see you.
The arena was cavernous, its silence broken only by the echo of stomping boots and breathless harmonies. Rows of empty seats loomed like silent judges, waiting for the spectacle to begin.
Yena had barely slept. None of them had. The choreography was brutal, the harmonies sharp, and the message even sharper. Every line was a blade, every beat, a warning. They moved in sync, sweat glistening under the harsh rehearsal lights. Mira led the charge, fierce and precise. Zoey followed with her usual fire. Rumi just… lagged.
It was subtle at first. A missed step. A breath too late. Then came the off-key note—jarring, raw, wrong. The music cut as everyone froze.
Yena turned, heart thudding. “Rumi? You okay?”
Mira didn’t beat around the bush. “Why’d you stop?”
Rumi stood still, her gaze fixed on the floor, while shaking her head. “The lyrics,” she said quietly. “They’re throwing me off. It’s not right.”
A beat of silence.
Then Mira scoffed. “Now you say that? When we’re two days out before the Idol Awards.”
Zoey stepped in, trying to soften the blow. “We can tweak the wording if you want. Maybe tone down the—”
“No,” Rumi said, cutting her off. “It’s not just the lyrics. It’s the whole song.”
Her voice wasn’t angry. It was… tired. Frayed at the edges. Yena felt it like a punch to the chest. She stayed quiet because she agreed, and maybe that wasn’t what Huntrix was meant to be.
Mira crossed her arms, her jaw tight. “You can't change the lyrics even if we wanted to.”
The silence stretched. Zoey looked between them, unsure whether to defend or retreat. Yena’s throat felt dry. She wanted to speak up. She wanted to say I feel it too. But her voice stayed buried because if she said it, the whole thing might collapse.
Just the quiet hum of the electric motors and the weight of everything unsaid.
All the girls stood frozen in a standoff. Mira’s calculative movements echoed in her chest like accusations. Rumi's anxiety was well-hidden, maintaining a calm demeanor. Zoey’s gaze was fixed on the floor, as if searching for a way to mend the tension without making it worse. Yena was hoping on a whim for any way of a distraction so the group could ease up.
Then came the sound of sneakers against concrete.
Bobby.
He entered from the side stairs, arms full of snacks—plastic bags rustling, a grin stretched across his face like he hadn’t just walked into a storm.
“Look what I have here!” he called out, cheerful and oblivious. “Energy bars, fruit cups, even those weird jelly drinks you girls liked. Figured you girls could use a break.”
He placed the bags on the table near the soundboard, dusting his hands off like he’d just delivered salvation.
“All of you, working as a unit again. It was incredible. Like watching back in your prime. I mean, not that you’re not still in your prime, but you know what I mean,” he continued, voice warm.
No one responded. Behind him, the girls stood in silence, but their eyes spoke a lot.
Yena's eyes flicked toward Rumi, then Mira, both of whom withheld silent messages and thoughts. Zoey’s growing concern is hidden within her eyes.
Bobby didn’t notice. He kept talking, his voice a soft hum against the tension. “I know things have been rough lately. But seeing you all together like this. It reminded me why people love you. Why you’re a team.”
Yena’s throat tightened. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to live in that version of reality, but somehow, they're slowly falling apart.
But then she felt it before she saw it. A pulse. It was as if the air had shifted like a wave.
A shimmer of violet light rippled across the arena—subtle, almost dreadfully beautiful. It flickered like heat haze, then sharpened into a pulse that wrapped around their ankles, their wrists, their throats.
Yena's expression shifted into alert mode. The Honmoon. She turned sharply, eyes scanning the rafters, the shadows, the corners where shadows sometimes leaked through.
The others felt it too.
Zoey stepped back instinctively.
Rumi’s gaze was vigilant in warning.
Mira’s eyes narrowed—not in fear, but in recognition.
Yena’s gaze darted between them before rolling her eyes, planning to leave the stage, boots barely making a sound against the metal steps. Her heart was racing, but her face stayed calm.
The others followed. No words were said.
“Zoey called, voice tight. “Where do you think it is?”
Yena didn’t look back. “Somewhere far, but it was strong.”
Rumi followed next, her steps quick but controlled. “It has to be where many people are gathered.”
Mira jumped down last, her voice sharp. “Then we should pick up our pace.”
The girls moved quickly, weaving through the backstage corridors, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off the concrete and steel, as they headed farther away from the arena and into the streets of Seoul.
The train station of Itaewon roared beneath them, a blur of steel and speed. Neon lights flickered past in streaks, casting ghostly shadows across the girls’ faces as they crouched atop the final car. Below, passengers sat in quiet oblivion—scrolling phones, sipping coffee, humming lullabies to sleeping children.
Above, the air split open. Demons poured from the breach like spilled ink—clawed, winged, hungry.
Yena’s voice cut through the wind. “Weapons up, it's about to get crowded!”
Zoey spun her six daggers, their crystal tips glowing blue. “I count six, no, eight!”
Rumi’s blade shimmered with bluish-pink light as she lunged forward, slicing through the first demon mid-leap. Mira followed close behind, her glowing glaive flashing like moonlight. The girls moved in rhythm—trained, lethal, beautiful in their fury, but the tension from rehearsal hadn’t left them.
Not even here.
Mira drove the sharp end of her glaive into a demon’s chest, then turned sharply toward Rumi. “You’re still not talking.”
Rumi parried a strike, her voice calm. “I’m fighting.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Another demon lunged at Zoey, and she killed it mid-air with a swift throw from one of her daggers. She and Yena held the rear, scanning the backlines, their backs pressed together.
Zoey whispered, “They’re still at it.”
Yena nodded grimly. “This isn’t the time nor place.”
Yena’s eyes flicked to Mira and Rumi, still side by side, still arguing between blows.
“Why are you questioning everything that we stand for..." Mira’s voice rose. "When we're so close to sealing the Honmoon.”
Yena stepped forward, about to intervene, when the breach pulsed again. Demons burst from every direction, from every nook and cranny.
Zoey shouted, “Incoming!”
The girls scattered, blades and lights flying. The train swerved, sparks flying from the rails. But somehow, they held the line. Not a single demon touched the train for now.
Silence.
Yena exhaled, stepping toward the others, already done with disagreements. “Mira, Rumi. This isn't productive.”
But Mira was already reaching out, her voice softer now. “Just tell me. What are you hiding?”
Then Rumi turned. Her voice was harsh as ice. “Not everything is about your insecurities, Mira!”
The words hit harder than any demon’s claw. Mira flinched, but didn’t look away. Yena and Zoey exchanged a glance, concerned, quiet, bracing for what might come next.
The train thundered into the tunnel, plunging the rooftop into darkness. The only light came from the girls’ weapons, glowing edges, pulsing magic, and flickers of brilliant energy dancing across their skin.
The silence between Mira and Rumi was louder than the roar of steel.
Yena turned toward them, catching the flicker of regret in Rumi’s eyes. It was brief, barely there, but real. And on Mira’s face, something quieter: not rage, but hurt. The kind that doesn’t scream but leaves scars on the soul.
Yena opened her mouth to speak, clearly seeing that the tension between the two wouldn't dissipate. But her attention was pulled by a dangerous threat up ahead.
Zoey’s voice cut through the tension. “Can you two stop fighting and look!” She pointed down the tunnel, eyes wide.
A massive rift had opened in the ceiling. Jagged, glowing violet, pulsing like a wound in reality. From it, a swarm of faceless demons poured out like a waterfall of shadows, their limbs flailing, no eyes, nose, or mouth, just blank horrors.
Yena gripped her divine fan, voice steady yet bewildered. “That's a huge tear in the Honmoon.”
Mira stepped forward, her glaive at the ready. “If you’re with us, then prove it.”
Rumi didn’t answer as the swarm rushed forward.
Zoey launched herself into the fray, her voice rising into a verse. “It's a takedown, I'ma take you out, you break down like, What?"
She continues to rap, "It's a takedown, I'ma take you out, and it ain't gonna stop.” Her blades sliced through the demons like lightning strikes, each note fueling her aim.
"정신을 놓고 널 짓밟고 칼을 새겨놔" Mira followed suit, her voice sharp, defiant.
"You'll be beggin' and cryin', all of you dyin', never miss my shot." She spun her glaive, cutting down two demons mid-leap, her feet planted, her stance unshakable.
Yena surged forward, her voice low but fierce. "When your patterns start to show,"
Her voice was also sharp, not the usual tone that she uses. "It makes the hatred wanna grow out of my veins."
She vaulted over a cluster of demons, her divine fan slicing through the air in a perfect arc. It boomeranged back into her hand, glowing with radiant light.
Rumi stepped forward, blade raised.
Her lips parted, "I don't think you're ready for the takedown," But then her voice faltered. "A demon with no feelings. Don't deserve to live, it's so obvious..."
She hesitated.
And in that heartbeat, a massive demon surged from the shadows, club raised. The demon slammed it into her, sending her flying across the train. She hit the metal hard, her blade skidding out of reach.
The girls froze.
“Rumi!” Yena shouted as her heart stopped.
Zoey screamed, "Rumi!”
"Rumi!" Mira’s eyes widened in fear.
Rumi lay sprawled, breath knocked from her lungs, a drop of blood trickling from her temple. Zoey was the first to reach her, spirit blades shooting nearby demons, making sure none were near Rumi's proximity.
Yena and Mira landed beside her, weapons still humming with residual energy.
“Hold on!” Mira said, voice trembling as she parried the incoming mass. Her hands gripping tightly the glaive, using every ounce of strength she has to fend off the huge demon with the club.
"Woah-oh-oh!" Yena harmonized scream as she twirled once with her fan. Releasing a radiant arc wave, pulverizing all the demons.
The silence that followed was not peace. It was an absence. Their eyes scanned the horizon, but the rift above had sealed, its jagged edges stitched shut by the last of their energies.
Rumi sat up slowly, wincing as she pressed a hand to her temple. Her gaze drifted past the girls, toward the train’s silence, still and too quiet.
“The passengers,” she said, barely audible.
Yena’s heart clenched.
They’d forgotten. In the chaos, in the rooftop battle, in the desperate scramble to protect each other, they hadn’t checked inside.
Rumi staggered to her feet, limping toward the side door. Zoey rushed ahead, prying it open with a grunt. The girls jumped down into the train car, boots echoing against the metal floor.
It was empty, no bodies. No signs of life. Just rows of vacant seats and the faint scent of ozone. The Saja Boys' voices coming from a phone were the only audible sounds around.
Their pathetic soda pop sound effect was disgusting to their ears as it had caused everyone to vanish, more souls being fed to Gwi-Ma as if the poll for missing people hadn't already struck in numbers by now.
Yena’s breath caught. “They’re gone,” she whispered.
Mira stepped forward, her fingers trailing along the back of a seat. “There were families. Kids... Innocent people.”
Zoey’s voice cracked. “They didn’t even know what was happening.”
Rumi stood frozen, her hand pressed to the wall, her blade limp at her side. Her eyes were wide, unfocused, as if trying to see something that had already vanished.
Yena turned slowly, scanning the car. Nothing left. Just… absence. As if the demons had erased them cleanly, surgically.
The train lurched forward, continuing its journey toward the final stop. The girls didn’t speak. Each sat apart, weapons gone by now, eyes distant. The hum of the engine was the only sound, a low, mournful dirge.
When the train finally slowed, the brakes hissed like a sigh. The doors opened as city lights spilled in—bright, indifferent, almost cruel in their normalcy.
They stepped out one by one. The tension between them was palpable, a taut thread stretched too thin. Even the air felt heavier.
Mira walked ahead, her posture rigid, Zoey trailing behind her. Just before exiting the platform, Mira stopped.
She didn’t turn, but her voice was clear, sharp as glass. “We need to come together. Everything’s at stake.”
Then she walked away.
Rumi frowned, her fingers curling around her blade. Her voice was low, almost hesitant. “Zoey.”
Zoey paused, glancing back over her shoulder. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes held something—regret, maybe. Or hope.
“She’s right,” she said. “We need your voice, Rumi. We can’t win this one without you.”
Then she followed Mira down the escalators.
Yena remained beside Rumi, her expression soft. She reached out, placing a hand on Rumi’s shoulder. A sad smile was plastered on her face. “Don't worry, Rumi...”
Rumi flinched as she moved away. She walked, slow, deliberate, like each step was a choice.
Yena watched her go, her hand falling to her side. She sighed—long, quiet, aching.
ns216.73.217.19da2
and then Add to home screen.