The shower fog had barely cleared from the mirrors when Yena slipped quietly down to the dormitory kitchen. The tiles were cool against her bare feet, and the air carried the faint smell of whatever mystery meal Zoey had abandoned earlier. But the dorms were still, silent in that way only post-performance exhaustion can produce.
Perfect.
She flipped on the overhead light, tied her damp hair into a hasty bun, and began assembling her midnight masterpiece—Spam Musubi. The sizzle of the pan, the sweet soy glaze, and the rhythmic press of rice and seaweed soothed her nerves more than any herbal remedy ever could. A reward.
Ten perfect musubi slices later, she plated them neatly, plus a few extras on a side dish. One for herself. One for her mood. And two for bribing Momo, her notoriously snack-thieving feline companion.
The dorm remained quiet as she crept back up to her room. No Mira pacing. No Rumi rehearsing choreography in the hallway. No Zoey humming in her sleep.
Bliss.
Yena nudged the door open and stepped into her sanctuary.
She placed the plate on her nightstand, grabbed a tiny pouch of tuna-flavored cat treats from her shelf, and walked over to her projector. The soft whir of electronics greeted her as she cued up a video game playthrough—tonight’s pick: an RPG involving ancient ruins and morally questionable side quests.
Then she reached for the treat and called softly.
“Momo? Want a bribe?”
No paw thuds. No stretch-and-yawn entrance. No chirp from his usual perch by the closet.
“Momo?”
Still silence. She glanced around the room, under the chair, beside the vanity, and even at the pile of throw blankets near the radiator.
No furry loaf. No flick of tail.
Her pulse quickened. She turned toward the glass balcony door—It was open.
Not wide. Just slightly ajar, but she could’ve sworn she locked it hours ago. The breeze now threading through the gap was cool and a little sharp, stirring the edges of the curtains.
“Momo...?” she whispered, voice thinner now.
She stepped outside, her breath shallow. No sign. Just the soft hum of city sounds below, then she hears a faint, distant meow from the street. Her blood ran cold.
She leaned over the edge, heart hammering. Shadows danced between parked cars and flickering signs. A blur of silver fur darted out of view near the alley entrance. It was him.
Before panic could fully take root, Yena launched herself over the balcony with practiced control—boots barely grazing the railing as she twisted midair and landed smoothly behind a planter on the ground floor.
No thud. Just agility and desperation.
She sprinted toward the street, eyes scanning every corner, voice hushed yet urgent. “Momo! Come here, you silly escapee! What are you doing down here?”
The alley stretched narrow and dim, lined with rusted pipes and flickering lamp posts. Yena moved like a shadow, her footfalls measured and quiet. Her senses sharpened, not just for Momo’s trail, but for the subtle rhythm of danger. The kind that didn’t announce itself with noise, only with the shifting air in her lungs.
She paused beneath a broken lantern before hearing another meow echoing up ahead.
She followed it past cracked walls and empty crates until the alley opened into an urban subdivision—a quiet cluster of traditional Korean hanok houses, their curved tiled roofs glowing under the moon. Lanterns hung from wooden eaves, casting low light over stone walkways.
Yena slowed. The air felt thick here.
Not just cold, but watchful. Every instinct screamed of a presence she couldn’t yet name, a pulse in the ground, a breath in the mist, but she forced the paranoia aside.
She finally spotted him, his white fur glinting beneath a paper lantern, curled up inside the gated yard of one of the cultural houses.
“Momo…” she exhaled, keeping her voice low and soft.
She slipped inside quietly, the old gate creaking just a little as she entered. The house looked empty, its windows shuttered, and the courtyard still.
Yena crouched, pulling a cat treat from her pouch and holding it out. “Come here, Momo. You scared me.”
Momo's ears twitched. He took one step forward—then hissed, eyes locked on something behind her.
Yena didn't hesitate. In a single, fluid motion, she summoned her divine fan, shimmering with bright light as she spun and slashed through the air behind her, aiming for a neck-level strike, but the figure moved fast, barely avoiding the arc, stepping back just in time with both hands raised, body lean and still as smoke.
Romance.
In his human disguise, eyes gleamed in the lantern light, calm and unreadable.
“Woah, woah,” he said, voice gentle yet threaded with something Yena couldn’t place. “I’m not here to fight.”
Yena kept her fan poised, the glow flaring faintly.
“I don’t care,” she replied coldly. “You don’t just appear behind someone without consequences.”
“You have a point, but I didn't mean to sneak up behind you.” Romance held his ground, non-clawed hands still raised. “But your pet seems to have followed me here for some odd reason.”
She blinked. “He came here because of you?”
Romance’s lips curled faintly, "Animals sense energy. And yours… echoes with mine somehow. Though it's pretty clear it knows who its master is, regardless.”
Yena didn’t lower her fan. Not yet, at least, but her grip trembled just slightly. Romance remained several feet away, arms still raised—not in defense, but restraint. The lantern above them flickered slightly, casting fractured light across the courtyard stones.
"Let me get things straight," She suddenly snapped, voice low and brittle. “You put that vision there. The lovers. You want me to believe in some tragic illusion of grandeur, just to weaken me.”
Romance’s expression didn’t shift, but something in his eyes darkened as he lowered his arms. “I didn’t show you anything.”
She stepped forward, the fan whistling softly through the air. “You expect me to believe it’s a coincidence? That you look exactly like the man in that vision I randomly had, and it so happened after falling into a pool with you?”
“I saw it too,” he said.
Yena froze.
“I saw it in pieces. Out of order. A voice begging not to be abandoned… coincidentally, your voice.” He stepped forward slowly, his tone composed but heavier now. “The lake. I couldn’t reach her... couldn't reach you.”
Yena’s jaw tightened, breath caught halfway to trembling.
“I thought it was just remnants of something I needed to forget,” he continued. “Dream residue, but it’s not. It's a scar. Etched in my shame. You somehow experience it in a way, though differently.”
Yena’s grip faltered slightly, fan lowering half an inch. “Then what are we? Fate’s entertainment?”
“No,” he murmured, his gaze steady. “We’re echoes. The kind the universe doesn’t erase.”
She looked down, the silk hem of her hoodie trembling against her leg. Her instincts told her not to believe him. Her training told her this was manipulation.
“I don’t want this,” she whispered, then declared. "A demon such as yourself, condemned to darkness, doesn't have a thread of fate left."
He replied, almost too quickly, and cold in his tone, but hidden beneath it was hurt. “A huntress in her present, but a weak, naive girl in her past. Truly full of surprises when it comes to being favored by fate.”
Yena took a cautious step back, eyes flickering toward Momo, who had settled now near the gate, fur still puffed slightly with lingering alertness.
“You will never be my weakness,” she said firmly.
Romance nodded. “And I won't be your savior. Let me make that clear.”
The lantern cast a soft gold halo around them as silence settled between the final words. Romance didn’t move. His arms hung loosely at his sides now, his eyes unreadable. Not menacing. Not pleading. Just watching.
Yena’s fan disappeared, the light fading as she turned her focus to the white tuft of fur crouched near the courtyard gate.
“Momo,” she whispered, voice softer now.
The cat tilted his head—still wary, but no longer bristling. He stepped forward, blinking sleepily before pressing his side against her ankle like a weighted reassurance.
Yena knelt, scooped him into her arms, and stood without hesitation. She didn’t look back. Didn’t offer another word to Romance, who remained shadow-still under the lantern’s sway.
She walked past the gate, back through the path she came from, stone, to alley, to city breath. Her feet were steady, grip on Momo firm. Her thoughts tangled, but her posture was straight behind her; something old and unfinished waited like a ghost tucked between rooftops.
But in front of her, the world kept moving.
The dorm was bathed in hushed shadows, its walls dim under the glow of ambient fairy lights strung lazily across Yena’s ceiling. Her room smelled faintly of misubi and eucalyptus from the candle she’d lit on her dresser earlier. The window remained cracked from her return, letting the breeze roll in soft and cool.
Yena had changed into an oversized hoodie and fuzzy socks, hair still damp from her earlier shower, a towel now forgotten on the floor beside her bed. She sat cross-legged under her comforter, a musubi half-eaten on the plate next to her, the video game stream paused mid-battle.
Momo was curled up in her lap, warm, snug, tail tucked over his paws.
After the chase through the alleyways and the strange encounter in the cultural yard, he’d clung to her like he’d just run from a storm. Now, as she stroked his soft fur absentmindedly, the purring echoed gently in her chest.
Yena stared ahead.
Not on the screen. Not at the lights but inward—toward the fog in her mind that hadn’t cleared since she’d looked into Romance’s eyes under the lantern.
Every part of her training told her to block him out. To forget the bridge. The lake. The unnecessary ache, but now that the vision had returned... it wouldn’t leave.
She whispered aloud, voice nearly drowned by Momo’s snores. “Echoes, huh…”
What if she wasn’t just seeing a memory? What if she were living inside its consequence?
She ran her fingers behind Momo’s ears. He leaned into her touch like it was gospel. “Are you my lifeline, Momo? Or my anchor?”
The cat didn’t answer but just snuggled deeper, and for once, that was enough.
Yena exhaled deeply, pressing her cheek against Momo’s fur. If the world was readying itself for chaos again—She wanted one more night like this.
124Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW1VGACz5zy
The lantern swayed above the quiet courtyard, its amber light flickering as the breeze retreated into silence. Romance stood where Yena had left him, unmoving, watching the gate swing closed behind her. His hand twitched faintly at his side.
She looked back right after that conversation; however, it was not towards him but at the cat.
Romance’s jaw clenched. He had been sure just seconds from cracking the mask, from pulling the thread that unraveled her tightly wound self-image. He’d whispered the right things. Shown the right amount of vulnerability. Worn the reflection of a memory she couldn’t ignore.
And still, she walked away.
“She isn’t her, she isn’t Hwayeon.” His fingers glided over the edge of his coat as he murmured to himself, voice low and sharp. “She never will be.”
The mantra didn’t soothe him. Just filled the space her absence had carved in the moment.
The flashes were starting to affect him. Not just images, but feelings. Guilt, regret—things he had surgically avoided for centuries. He was losing precision, and worse… clarity.
“She’s a target,” he reminded himself. “Not some fated echo. Not some divine rebirth. She’s just inconveniently convincing.”
A voice hummed beside him. “Well, that was dramatic.”
Romance didn’t flinch.
Jinu was already leaning against the courtyard wall, appearing out of thin air like smoke through old wood. Signature hair tousled, his grin fixed as his eyes were annoyingly bright.
“You were so close, weren’t you?” he teased. “Maybe if you had shed just one tear, she would have pitied you into compliance.”
Romance didn’t look at him. “She hesitated,” he muttered.
“She resisted,” Jinu pointed out the fact. “There’s a difference.”
Silence stretched, tight as a wire.
“She’s got a heart like reinforced steel,” Jinu added, flicking his fingers lazily. “Determined. Loyal. Tragically inconvenient for the kind of corruption you specialize in.”
Romance’s expression soured, but his posture remained relaxed.
“She cracked once,” he said. “That’s enough.”
Jinu rolled his eyes before facepalming. “You think one little seductive whisper makes her yours? You’ve barely scratched the surface.”
Romance turned sharply, but not with violence. Just precision, cold, and theatrical.
“This is just the start,” he said. “And she’ll have nowhere left to run. When she has no one else to confide in but me.”
Jinu raised his brows, mock-applauding silently. “Oooh. Creepy. The lover boy finally has guts.”
Romance ignored him. His eyes drifted back to the lantern. The night air was still heavy with her energy. “She’ll remember something she can't forget,” he murmured.
“Or,” Jinu yawned, “She’ll crush it like she did your flower. Again.”
Romance didn’t respond. He just stared into the dark and recalibrated the next move.
ns216.73.217.128da2
and then Add to home screen.