Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started with feathers.

Like clockwork, whenever Miyeong stumbled back to the house after a long day of rehearsal with Celine and Anna, she would find something on her windowsill. The first few times, unremarkably, it was just plumage—a jet-black, downy thing perched there. She’d only give them passing consideration before discarding them; maybe they’d just been brought in by the girls or Bora, clinging to their pant legs from outside. Not like that explained their strange, precise placement on her windowsill, but Miyeong, quite frankly, was too drained by the long hours of alternating between demon hunting and rehearsing to put too much thought into it.

But it didn’t stay merely avian for long.

Soon the innocuous feathers were replaced by… well, it varied. It was never the same thing twice; once it was a metal screw, on another occasion a single 100 won coin. A scrap of aluminum foil, a crumpled candy wrapper, a tiny shard of glass, and then…

A single gold earring.

The day had been even more draining than usual; Bora had insisted on four hours of dance practice and then six of singing lessons in preparation for the upcoming Idol Awards. Her body was sore in places she hadn’t known existed; she felt like she had an awful case of strep throat. As she staggered into her bedroom, her mattress seeming like a fucking paradise in front of her, something in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

A glint, and then a flash of movement.

It was brief—too brief for Miyeong to make out anything more than the vague impression of black wings spreading—but it was the first time she’d ever caught a glimpse of her feathered friend. Suddenly rejuvenated, she swiftly crossed the room to her window and pressed her face against it, fogging the glass with her anticipatory breaths. Her excitement didn’t last long; her benefactor was long-gone in a whirl of dark feathers.

Her dejection was short-lived; as she stepped back from the window she very nearly just fell back onto her bed. She would’ve been asleep before her head hit the pillow. But she remembered that like always, the bird had to have left an offering, and so she glanced over to her windowsill. 

Sure enough, sitting there was a single, gold-encrusted earring.

She picked it up gingerly and held it up to her eye. It was ovular, a plain gold border encasing a black stone in the center. Obsidian? Onyx? Miyeong was no geologist, but she couldn't help but remark how strangely… layered the gem seemed. Perhaps it was just a trick of the twilight coming through her window, but it seemed to her as if the jewel wasn’t merely a rock but a pit, a bottomless one that just kept going and going and going with its descent. She half-expected it to swallow up her fingers as she probed its cold surface.

She got down on one knee, now fully alert, and opened the small drawer in her mahogany dresser that she’d reserved for the bird’s gifts. A coin, a bit of foil, a tiny piece of glass… and now this. She carefully slipped it in alongside the others and—

Celine knocked.

She knew it was Celine over Anna definitively. Six years of stardom and hunting together had been more than enough to learn the distinction; Anna’s knocks were always light and gentle raps, three or four in succession. Celine did one hard, purposeful smack to the door.

“Come in, unnie,” Miyeong called out, turning away from the drawer but not closing it.

Celine entered, and as always while Miyeong and Anna were drained—Anna had fallen asleep in the car, and been carried to her room—she was as alert as if she’d just had her morning black coffee. Sharp-eyed, perfect posture, chin jutted out. Flawlessly set makeup and coiffed black hair. “I heard some strange noises here. Some… clinking?”

“It’s just these,” said Miyeong, moving out of the way so Celine could get a better look. “My… collection.”

“Of random, shiny objects?” Celine got down on her knees beside Miyeong. “What are you, a magpie?”

“Funny you say that. I think they’re coming from a feathered visitor.”

“What? Like a fan?” Celine frowned.

“I guess you could say that,” said Miyeong. “Every day when we get back from practice, there’s something waiting for me on my windowsill. I never saw who it was until today, I got a glimpse of a wing.”

Celine thumbed through the odds and ends, her forehead crinkling with concern. “Just a wing?”

“It’s not so concerning.” Miyeong was an expert at calming Celine’s concerns, at least temporarily. “You know I like to leave my window open. Think of it as an honoured guest.” 

“It’s just taken a liking to you, then?”

“Maybe it’s a big fan of Luminous,” joked Miyeong. Their most recent single was inescapable on the radio. “I’ve heard birds can be quite intelligent. Maybe it likes the ambience of my room?” It wouldn't like Celine's, surely; the only pop of colour there was her array of high-end lipsticks.

“Maybe.” Celine bit her bottom lip, smudging her once-perfect scarlet lipstick. “Be careful, Miyeong.”

“Careful? It’s just a bird!” 

“I’m just saying, keep your wits about you. You never know.” Celine stood. “Go get some sleep.” She was one to talk. Many times she'd woken Miyeong from her sweet dreams by deciding to practice choreography at 2 a.m. The music would reverberate through the house, as well as the squeak of her sneakers against the linoleum practice room floor.

“Yeah, I think I'll hit the sack.” Miyeong did need to rest up for another long day tomorrow, between rehearsal and the shopping trip she was now brainstorming. She’d go with Anna, she decided; no way Celine would take the time out of her rigid schedule for a frivolous excursion. “Good night.”

“Good night,” said Celine, although Miyeong knew that she’d likely be awake for the next seven hours. It was with a small smile at Miyeong—never too pronounced, but always sisterly—that she exited the room and gently shut the door behind her.

Miyeong closed the drawer of her collection gingerly and finally lay back on her bed. She hadn’t changed into pajamas, and honestly she couldn’t be bothered. Besides, her favourites, the ones with the teddy bears and choo-choo trains, were still in the dryer.

“Oh my gosh, I wish I could take them all home,” gushed Anna the instant she and Miyeong entered a Seungsu-dong bird store aptly named Wing It! Lining the walls of the pellet-scented shop were cages upon cages containing everything from colourful condors to preening parrots.

“Not if you had to clean the cages,” teased Miyeong as she had to practically drag Anna away from the live specimens and towards the boring, inanimate products. One-on-one with Anna was beyond refreshing after a terse three-hour dance practice with Celine. Miyeong, one more one-through! And another! And another!

“You’d help me out! And I’m sure I could cajole Celine,” said Anna with one last glance backwards.

Miyeong scanned the dizzyingly expansive store. “Maybe, with your maknae charms.” Celine had always had a soft spot for Anna; it was hard not to. 

“Over there! We’re looking for birdhouses, right?” Anna pointed at an aisle with the appropriate signage on the other side of the store, and Miyeong nodded.

Making their way over to the area, Anna chatted, “This is so cute of you. The bird's like your secret admirer!” Earlier, Miyeong had told the whole story to her and gotten a much more positive reaction than the hypervigilance of Celine.

“Bora would never allow that.” Miyeong snorted. No K-pop manager would.

“You could elope!” said Anna as they reached the aisle. She darted inside like a chipmunk and began to inspect the birdhouses with the same scrutiny Bora did with their bodies during their weekly weigh-ins. Miyeong, have you been eating white rice again? “Ooh, what vibe are you going for?”

“Functionality, mostly.” She joined Anna in her observation of the products. Some plain wood, some bursting in multicolour. 

“That’s not enough! You’ve got to get the bird a pretty house, it’s the least you can do after it gave you stuff like that.” Anna pointed at the jewelry Miyeong was now sporting on her left ear.

“Yeah, actually,” said Miyeong, absentmindedly fingering the earring. While Anna might have been jesting, she did actually have a point. It was silly, maybe; it wasn’t like this bird was a goddamn interior designer. But it couldn’t hurt to get it something nice, especially after what it had done for her. On a surface level, sure, it was just a bunch of worthless, tiny trinkets; but Miyeong couldn't even begin to describe how nice it had been to have something small to look forward to in the midst of her days of appetite suppressants and back-breaking rehearsal.

“How about this one?” Anna pointed to a garish pink monstrosity. 

“That’s a beacon for any predators,” said Miyeong with a snort. Upon seeing Anna’s face fall, she was quick to say, “But it’s nice! Just… not quite what I’m going for.”

Anna brightened once more. “Ooh, you’re going for a vibe now? Not just plain-old functionality?”

“Nothing too extra, but—” Miyeong was saying just as she saw it.

Crafted from pure birchwood, the exterior was unadorned besides a hole for nesting. Straight walls and roof, no intricate engravings or embedments. But it was just the right size for a crow, or raven, or magpie, or whatever genre of corvid was a regular visitor to her window. And as far as Miyeong was concerned, the plainer the better; she didn't want any hungry foxes zeroing in.

“You want that one?” Anna was frowning slightly, but then she beamed again. “Awesome!”

Miyeong smiled back at Anna. She loved how Anna always acknowledged that there were different strokes for different folks; Miyeong couldn’t say the same about certain other individuals.

“I think I’ll get it.” Miyeong plucked it off the shelf. She didn’t bother looking at the price; between royalties, album sales and brand deals, the Sunlight Sisters weren’t exactly strapped for cash. “Thanks for coming along.” This excursion could’ve very easily been done solo, but Miyeong had always been the kind of person to prefer running even the most mundane errands accompanied. 

“Of course! You know I'm always here for you.” Anna fell into step alongside her as the two of them made their way over to the cash register. They'd both purposefully donned nondescript hoodies and masks—as much as Miyeong loved her fans, she didn’t exactly want to be bombarded by Sunbeams when she was just going about mundane business. “I only wish Celine could’ve come.”

“She’s always practicing, you know.” Miyeong, in fact, was immensely glad that Celine hadn’t tagged along. 

“I know, I know,” sighed Anna as the bored-looking cashier checked them out. “But it’s best when it’s all three of us.”

“It is.” As suffocating as Celine could be sometimes, Miyeong couldn't disagree with Anna. They were at their strongest both in fighting and performing when all three of them were there to cover each other’s weaknesses—Anna's tendency to forget to check her blind spots while fighting, Miyeong always messing up the footwork of their choreographies.

They walked—they could’ve easily had a staff member drive them, but Miyeong had been trying to get more steps in. And not only because Bora had been pestering her about her new ‘shapeliness.’ No, Miyeong really did need the extra time on her feet; walking calmed, at least temporarily, the thunderstorm in her mind.

The commute was only about ten minutes, and those were ten minutes easily filled by Anna yapping about how cute Jaeshin from EZE was with his new platinum blond hair. “Do you think he’s single?”

“Probably not, you know how all those boy group members are,” Miyeong said, lost enough in her thoughts that she forgot who she was speaking to. Luckily she came out of her daze to correct herself before Anna crumpled. “Erm—well, he could be. But you know what Bora says about dating.”

“Bora isn’t the boss of me.” Anna stuck her tongue out.

That was so naive, for once it would be for her own good if Anna was gently corrected. Miyeong was just going to tell Anna that, for all idol intents and purposes, Bora was their puppeteer, when—

Anna’s daggers were in her hands.

Miyeong summoned her sword the instant she saw the knives. Anna had noticed the threat first, of course, since Miyeong had been daydreaming; something she now scolded herself for. A hunter, especially not one who moonlighted as an idol, could never let her guard down. Alertness was key in both professions. But now, at least, she saw it, standing with its back turned a mere hundred yards from them in front of their door.

A black hoodie in the middle of the summer, blue jeans, crisp white Vans. Bright purple hair that fell down to its shoulders, an iPod lazily gripped in one pale, long-fingered hand in a half-hearted attempt at modernity. Dark patterns snaking up its hands and undoubtedly all over its demonic body.

The place was deserted; Bora was, if nothing else, excellent at keeping their property off-limits to unauthorized paparazzi. That was why Miyeong and Anna didn’t hesitate to go hurtling, hurtling, hurtling at the demon, blades flashing, eyes wild, legs pumping, completely synchronized—

They ran into thin air.

The momentum they’d built up from their charge had them nearly running straight into an old oak tree in front of Miyeong's bedroom window; the very same one, in fact, that Miyeong had wanted to hang her new birdhouse on. They both halted just in time, panting.

Miyeong rested her palm on the rough bark of the tree as Anna exclaimed, “There it went!”

Miyeong’s gaze shot upward towards where Anna was pointing. Sure enough, circling overhead, mockingly, was a magpie—but not just any old corvid, a six-eyed monstrosity that betrayed its demonic nature.

Anna launched one of her daggers upwards as a throwing knife. Promptly it teleported away in a puff of noxious purple fumes before the blade was anywhere near its body.

The knife rematerialized in Anna’s hand as she scanned the sky, searching in vain for their avian enemy. “Where did it go?” she said shrilly. 

“Back to the demon world, probably,” Miyeong heard herself saying, but she wasn’t exactly alert. Her mind was once more too awhirl.

“Ugh!” Anna pouted in frustration, stomping. “No one's ever gotten away from me before!”

Well, that was an exaggeration. Every once in a while there was a demon that slipped through the cracks and managed to slink back, uninjured, to the underworld; but that had been becoming less and less common as the three of them refined their skills. This was the first occurrence in at least a year, maybe more. Granted, without Celine, they weren't at full power, but it should've been easy to take out a singular demon, especially with the element of surprise on their side. It hadn't even turned around before transforming, Miyeong realized. Yet somehow it'd sensed their presence behind it so swiftly. She'd never known a demon to display that level of awareness; weren't they usually more like zombies? Just like zombies, too, typically they came in hordes, raining down on the girls like they were a fucking current they had to sluice through. It had been unaccompanied.

Its singularity, its intelligence, its transfiguration… 

“And it was just it! Two versus one.” Anna crossed her arms and scowled. “We really should've gotten it.” 

“It–it's okay, Anna.” She tried and failed at sounding more assuring than she felt. “Come on, we have to tell Celine.” She wasn't looking forward to it, but it was a necessary evil. There were no secrets between the Sunlight Sisters.

Anna nodded in agreement, even as her shoulders remained slouched. Stepping into their dorm, Miyeong had barely set the pet store bag gently on the floor before turning in the direction of the dance practice room where she was sure she'd find Celine. Once again, Anna had to be the one to point something out.

“Unnie?” Anna rushed forward.

Miyeong's eyes, and then her legs, followed suit. Sure enough, rather than where she'd initially anticipated, Celine was flopped on the velvet loveseat in the center of the foyer. Miyeong couldn't recall that one ever being used before; it had been purely decorative.

Celine wasn't wearing any makeup; her worry lines and purple bags under her eyes were stark against skin that was much tanner without the usual thick layer of pale foundation. She was sprawled out on the couch, clearly sleeping, although she was still clad in her practice uniform of black joggers, sneakers and a plain white T-shirt. She had an arm slung over the armrest, with her legs stretched out far in front of her.

Their initial entrance hadn't roused her, but their approach now certainly did. Miyeong could tell from the way she shot up, tense, that Celine was waking up in fight mode; when she recognized them, her posture loosened slightly.

“Oh, shit, I was just taking a break from practice.” Already Celine was rising. “I'll get right back to it.” 

“Are you sure? Maybe you could use some rest…” Anna was saying it in a much nicer way than Miyeong would have. Get some fucking rest for once, Celine. You can't keep running off of fervent hatred of demons and four cups of black coffee.

“I'm sure.” Celine didn't say it unkindly, necessarily, but definitively authoritatively. “Come on, you two. We need to nail this new choreography.”

“Celine, something–” Anna started, undoubtedly about to tell her about their encounter with the demon just outside their home.

Miyeong cut her off. “Actually, I'm not feeling so well. I might have to sit this one out,” she told Celine, bracing herself.

Why was she uncharacteristically interrupting Anna? For one, while she'd originally intended on telling Celine about the escaped demon, it was clear now that Celine was… tired. It was a surprisingly big revelation to Miyeong, considering how close they were, but she'd never known Celine to have a moment of weakness. She was always chugging, chugging forward towards both their next smash hit and a golden honmoon. She couldn't bring herself to tell Celine about their failure when she was already downtrodden.

Additionally… an urge was now building within her, buzzing throughout her whole body and refusing to be ignored. She had to go to the yard, hang up her new birdhouse to wait and see, rather than run through the choreography of Luminous for the thousandth tedious time. She knew that if she waited any longer to make the request she'd get cold feet; blurting was necessary.

“Not feeling well? Really?” said Celine. “You seemed fine this morning.”

So did you, and here we find you passed out from exhaustion. “I heard there's a stomach bug going around,” she lied. She hoped she looked adequately queasy.

“Maybe you should give her a break. She does seem a little pale.” Anna furrowed her brow.

Celine held Miyeong's gaze for a long moment, and then her features softened. “Rest up, then. I'll try to get Bora not to give you too hard of a time about it.”

Why was she choosing now to be sisterly? Guilt ate away at Miyeong for the lie. Still she forced a smile and repeated her offense. “I'll just be resting.” 

“I hope you feel better soon, unnie.” Anna looked at Miyeong with concern so sincere and wide-eyed it was a punch to the gut. Briefly she considered letting Anna in on what she was actually going to do instead of ‘resting.’ But she ultimately decided against it; something about this seemed like it had to be undertaken alone.

Miyeong flopped down on the loveseat that was still warm from Celine’s body, lolled her head back, and tried to look ill. The illusion must have been convincing enough, because soon she heard Celine and Anna's receding footsteps. It wasn’t until she’d counted forty-five seconds of their absence that she shot up like a lightning bolt and recollected the bag with the birdhouse. Suddenly it felt like it was full of rocks.

She had to be quick—if her suspicions were correct, it was already in the area, and it wouldn't be long before it made its visit to her window. She darted from the sofa, out the front door where it had been mere minutes ago, and towards that oak. 

There was one hanging branch on the ancient tree that was just low enough for her to stand on her tippy toes and loop the twine of the birdhouse around it. As soon as it was secured, she raced away; she didn’t want to be caught by the bird, if her horrible theory on its identity was true.

She ducked behind the most voluminous bush she could find across from the tree in the courtyard, one that had only recently blossomed into its full beauty with the 2002 summer. Dark purple blooms sprouted upwards among dark leaves, shielding Miyeong.

The time she waited felt both stalled and sped. Later, she would only ever vaguely recall goosebumps rising on her forearms and shaky breaths so loud she was shocked she hadn’t been heard. The only thing she ever knew clearly was that at last, she saw what she had most feared—or maybe just anticipated.

She sensed it before she saw it, through a strange, primal hunter instinct. Her goosebumps spiked; her fingers twitched like they wanted to grip the hilt of her sword out of muscle memory, but her mind was too paralyzed to summon it. Slowly, she peeked around the bush, and—

It was standing in front of the tree, more specifically the birdhouse she’d just hung there. It still had its recognizable iPod and outfit to camouflage into the 21st-century masses; but now that it was facing in her direction and she wasn't hurtling at it with a blade, she was able to take it in much more. 

It was fucking gorgeous.

Those purple locks fell long and untamed over its shoulders, in a way not dissimilar to the way Miyeong’s looked when she first rolled out of bed in the morning. The difference was that it wore the mess like a crown. Its pupils were mere slits, but otherwise there was nothing demonic about its wide, almost innocent amber eyes. Its jawline could’ve cut the honmoon in two; its ruby-red lips were full and plump, almost cherubic. What irony, considering the dark, unmistakable patterns snaking up its pale neck and over its otherwise flawless cheekbones.

And then in a puff of violet dust, it was a bird. Miyeong could've sworn that one of its six eyes winked in her direction, and that made her racing heart nearly stop. Clutched in its tiny feet was once again a small, shiny something.

Before Miyeong knew it it was hovering in front of the birdhouse. It didn’t enter like expected; it seemed to simply make a drop-off of whatever it had brought for her this time, and then it was nothing but a tiny dark spot in the sky. Even if Miyeong hadn’t been so stupefied, she wouldn’t have been able to take it down even on her second chance; it was unusually nimble.

She gave it ten torturous shaky breaths without its return to deem it safe to emerge from her hiding spot. Staggering, eventually she managed to make her way over to the birdhouse, which she could’ve sworn still glowed a little purple from her ‘friend.’ I thought it was just an amiable bird. All this time…

She knew very well that it wasn’t a good idea to trust these gifts now that she knew they came from what seemed to be a very powerful demon’s hands—or talons. That knowledge didn’t stop her from reaching out, grabbing the birdhouse from the branch and tipping its new contents into her waiting palm.

Chapter Text

It fucking burned.

Miyeong yelped and dropped the flint the instant it touched her soft skin, but it was too late. When she turned her hand over there was already a dark burn forming in the center of her palm—and a smoking stone lying on the ground in front of her feet.

She knelt down so she was on eye level with the offending pebble—keeping mindful, of course, to keep her face a solid few inches away so she didn't inhale any of the noxious fumes. She'd become a pro after six years of dodging boy group members with their cigarettes backstage at music shows. 

It was most definitely unnatural. Radiating a dark purple, it was impossibly smooth and spherical, and polished to a shine as if it had been tumbled. Reminiscent of a marble. Miyeong wouldn't risk another burn, but there was a part of her that still wanted to reach out and run her fingers over the smooth, shiny surface. It was so beautiful she almost did.

Almost.

Miyeong rose, her legs wobbly—maybe it was just all the dancing, but all the recent shock couldn't have helped them. Without any consideration, she toed the flint.

There was only a lukewarmth that she could feel through her sneakers, so she felt safe to pick it up and bring it inside. She'd knelt down once more, she'd reached out her hand, she was just about to in grasp it within her lovely yet calloused fingers—

They stopped, hovering mere millimeters from the stone.

Immediately she jerked her hand away as if she'd been burned once more. Why, in the name of the honmoon, was she even considering continuing to accept these gifts even after discovering their origins? They were coming from a demon, and one that seemed unusually powerful at that. Undoubtedly they carried some curse beneath the thin veneer of gifts; maybe that was why her life had been so shitty lately. She'd thought that these little trinkets waiting for her after her long days were ameliorating  her life; perhaps it was quite the opposite.

She knew that logically, with all of this taken into consideration, she should make some disposals. Not just this new stone, but every damn thing she'd gotten from the bird over the past twenty-four days. It was all poisoned, it had to be. The garbage wouldn't do; maybe she'd have to throw them into the fire and dump the ashes in the Han River for good measure. She reached up to her earlobe to remove the undoubtedly cursed jewelry, but traitorously, her fingers faltered once more.

It was so stupid, but…

Even if it had all been some sick game of its all along, the demon's string of gifts had been beyond comforting to Miyeong. It was ridiculous of her to think this way, she knew. They were worthless odds and ends bestowed upon her by her sworn enemy. Most likely cursed beyond belief. Bringing misfortune wherever they went. Hardly belonging in a designated drawer in her bedroom. And yet…

She could barely describe just how much they had meant to her when she'd been struggling through the eighth run-through of the Luminous choreography where she kept fucking up the handwork and Celine was snapping. When she'd been in tears combing the aisles of the nearby pharmacy for laxatives so the number could be lower when Bora made them do their weekly weigh-ins. Even when nothing unusually shitty had happened to her that day, but when she got back to the house and she still wanted to curl up into a ball and bawl until she couldn't anymore. Throughout that, it had been the tiniest yet brightest pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel—knowing that at least when she got back to her room, there would be something there to give her the tiniest hit of dopamine.

Miyeong couldn't disregard weeks of that small yet meaningful comfort, as much as she wanted to.

As she reached out a hand once more, there was a  tinny voice within her telling her that it wasn't too late. She didn't have to close her fingers around this rock; she could still bag it up and throw it into the fire alongside the rest of her accursed collection. She could tell Anna and Celine all about the revelation and endure Celine's self-righteous lecture about how she'd been right all along to be cautious of the corvid. She could do the wise thing.

She did not.

In the ten hours between Miyeong placing the new pebble in her drawer and her bandmates returning from rehearsal, the roof didn't cave in on her, contrary to her paranoia. Normally she would've spent an extraordinarily rare day of rest to the fullest—a trip to the bathhouse, maybe, and staying in her pajamas all day while binge-watching a drama. Unfortunately, instead every moment she was glancing upwards, like the curses from the odds and ends would make Gwi-Ma himself fall through her ceiling. Luckily no such curse befell her, and so she spent those ten hours actually doing what she'd told her bandmates—curled up in a blanket burrito on her bed. The only difference was that she was wallowing in emotional turmoil rather than the physical.

When she heard the door opening, she wondered if it would be wise of her to rush down with a smile and welcome Celine and Anna back home. Had she actually just been ill, she would've done so gladly—keeping a certain distance from them, of course, to avoid contagion. But with her whole mind leaden with what she'd learned today, her body felt too heavy to drag herself out of bed. Plus, she didn't know if she could face the other Sunlight Sisters with a smile after she'd lied to them so blatantly earlier. She'd broken her streak of honesty cruelly; of course there had been white lies over the years, assurances that Anna's burnt zucchini fries were actually delicious and that Celine didn't have a very unsightly pimple on her forehead. But today's dishonesty had been much more serious than some opinions on courgettes.

In the end, it didn't end up mattering whether Miyeong went to greet the others, because they came to her. Just as Miyeong had decided, perhaps cowardly, that she couldn't bring herself to face them right now, Anna's sharp knocks resounded on the door. From the faint footsteps that were still encroaching, Miyeong knew Celine would soon join. “Unnie? How are you feeling?”

“B-better.” Miyeong hadn't spoken once in the last ten hours—the longest she'd gone wordless in a very long time. She also hadn't hydrated in that time, hence why her voice came out like one of those boy group members who smoked six packs a day.

“You sound like death.” Celine had arrived at Miyeong's door. “Don't open the door, Anna, we don't want to catch it.”

“I might have strep throat.” The words left Miyeong's mouth rapidly, too swiftly for her to realize she was doubling down on her lie, the one that had been eating her up from the inside all day. She swallowed, painful with her parched throat.

“From the sounds of it, you do,” said Celine from the other side of the door. “Keep resting up.”

“Resting?” Miyeong said the word like it was Russian—that was about as foreign as it was.

“You can rehearse with us tired, not when you're ill,” said Celine. “Just stay in your room until you feel better.”

Miyeong flopped down on her pillow—her long braid draped over the side of her bed, extremely frizzy from all the time spent rotting there. Once more she knew what the wisest thing for her to do would be. Take a sip of water, speak to Celine and Anna with her newly rehydrated voice and tell them she was fine, that she'd just needed a bit of downtime and she'd be right there with them the following day. It would be the best thing to do from both a professional and personal standpoint; Celine and Anna couldn't perform for their Sunbeams in the fullest without their golden voice, and they couldn't hunt demons effectively with a missing link—as she and Anna had learned very recently without Celine. Besides, she knew Bora wouldn't stop giving them both shit about how they needed to step up in her absence. She knew she wanted to spare them from that lecture on top of the usual ones about their weight and their innocent images.

But from her own, selfish, standpoint…

The truth was… Miyeong was so tired that that word didn't do it justice. Every day after rehearsal she felt like her limbs would fall off if she had to do one more dance; her vocal cords felt like someone had gone at them with a pair of garden shears. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten more than five hours of sleep in a night. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to sit down for a breakfast that wasn't a single apple and an iced americano. She couldn't remember the last time she'd ever been allowed to really… be.

Of course, this rest wouldn't be perfect—no doubt it would still be marred by her continuous anxiety over the avian demon and the guilt of all her recent dishonesty to her bandmates. But it would be rest, nonetheless, and so Miyeong forced a smile—she knew Celine and Anna couldn't see her, but she was just trying to make herself feel less awful—and lied, “I think I'm really ill. I'll just stay in bed.”

“Here you go, unnie! I made you some juk,” Anna's voice woke Miyeong the following morning.

Miyeong would've thought that she'd be supremely annoyed to be woken early on a day she'd been planning on sleeping in tremendously—partially to make up for all of those lost hours, and partially because if she was unconscious she couldn't get herself in a twist about everything—but it was impossible for her to get angry at Anna. “Thanks a lot,” she called out. Since she'd just woken from the longest night of sleep in the memorable past, her throat was adequately parched to give off the illusion of illness.

“You're welcome! I hope you get better soon,” said Anna, and Miyeong could practically hear the worried frown in her voice. “Celine and I will be heading to practice now.” Miyeong heard her set the bowl down on the floor outside her bedroom door.

“Have a good day,” said Miyeong with a yawn.

“Thanks, unnie! See you later! Call if you need anything!” 

“I will, I will.” Miyeong managed to clamber out of bed and began to make her way over to her door. She made a pointed effort to ignore a certain drawer of her dresser, which naturally meant that it was all she noticed in her bedroom now.

“See you!” With that, Miyeong heard Anna scampering away, light on her feet—just like when she was performing. Then, presumably to Celine: “I'm coming!”

Miyeong opened the door, and waiting for her was a purple porcelain bowl full of juk with jujubes, just how she liked it—no matter how many times Bora said dates were too sugary. Tentatively she picked it up—she could never be too careful when handling breakable objects, with her butterfingers. She sat beside her bed, leaning against the bedframe and carefully balancing the bowl of porridge in her lap. 

Even as she brought the first spoonful of comfort in a bowl to her lips, she was barely able to choke it down thanks to the guilt that was now clogging her throat from within. Here she was, lying to her bandmates about being sick to skip practice, and then gobbling up the soup they made for her to help alleviate her ‘illness' that would more aptly be called her laziness and flakiness. But rest was just too desirable, and the porridge too damn comforting, for her to resist.

As she ate up, she began to wonder what she could even do with this newly free day. It had been so long since she'd rested properly that now that she finally had the chance, she didn't know what to do with it. It was all Greek to her now—but even with the guilt of lying to Celine and Anna, as well as the revelation about her avian visitor, weighing heavily on her, she still wanted to make the most of it.

Staring at her bowl of porridge, she decided to take herself out to eat. Several factors motivated the decision; for one, it had been so damn long since Miyeong had had the pleasure of eating out. One would think that with the boundless cash the Sunlight Sisters had at their disposal they'd be indulging themselves at all of Seoul's Michelin-rated spots, but it was impossible to find any time in their schedule—or options to fit their strict caloric deficits. Another reason why she was deciding that was that for once, on this off day, Bora wouldn't be breathing down her neck all day. She could order white rice, not tiny bits of cauliflower, with only her own inner voice screaming at her about its glycemic index. Finally, Miyeong had always found that food helped calm the perpetual storm in her mind similarly to walking; she could use something to drown out her inner monologue.

She only wound up eating half of her  juk, delicious as it was. She told herself she was just trying to save room for her outing. Not calorie banking at all.

Seoul had no shortage of kimbap spots, but Miyeong found herself in front of a mom-and-pop called  BAP! tucked away behind the DH Entertainment company building. She told herself that she was visiting here purely for convenience; it was just 3,212 steps away from the house, as her  pedometer so kindly informed her. In reality nostalgia greatly outweighed that.

When Miyeong had been a very young child, this had been her and her parents’ go-to spot whenever they were too drained from their office jobs to bother cooking. She had very vivid memories of religiously ordering the tuna and mayonnaise rolls without worrying about the calories in the oil, chattering on and on about her day at school while they waited for their food and her father just staring at her dead-eyed after eight hours at his desk. The food had been good, but not top-notch; it had been all about the experience for her, and not some fancy fine dining where they torched your food in front of you or some shit. No, mere childish antics, in hindsight, became invaluable.

Miyeong had been purposeful in picking out her disguise for this outing; she wound up having to toss the idea of her favourite baggy hoodie because that would certainly draw attention to her in the middle of the summer, just like what she'd remarked when she and Anna had first seen the demon. Unlike practically every other day of her life, she wasn't looking for attention today. She wound up going with a plain white blouse, sunglasses and jean shorts; enough to fit in, not to stand out.

“Table for one, please,” she was saying to the hostess, but she was lost in her own thoughts. She didn't think she'd been back here since she'd first joined the company when she'd been twelve years old; a lack of time and caloric budget had both contributed to that. While the exterior had been recognizable enough, with the garish sign making the very bold claim to the best tuna rolls in the city and flashing red OPEN sign, they must have done some serious indoor renovations since the last time she'd been here. Logical, considering it had been well over a decade.

Miyeong and her parents had always sat in the corner furthest away from the entrance, where the green paint had been flaking so Miyeong had always made it had mission to peel as much of it off as possible when she'd been bored waiting for her food. There wasn't much else to do, sitting in her rickety wooden chair that creaked suspiciously, at the scratched mahogany table. The inside of the eatery had gotten a new coat of paint, this one a bright sky blue that so far hadn't been compromised by any bored young girls. The old beat-up wood furniture had been replaced by sleeker chrome models with long black legs and not a creak to be heard as patrons shifted back and forth. 

Miyeong noticed that the table in the far corner today had a chubby girl with pigtails and braces shoving a tuna roll down her throat while her parents had their own conversation. She immediately asked the hostess if she could potentially be seated at the table in the opposite corner, as far away from them as possible. Her request was accommodated, and so Miyeong settled down.

“Rumi,” was the name she gave to her teenage server when she asked. It was always the pseudonym she opted for when she didn't want to be recognized; it wasn't too far from the truth, just how she liked it. When Celine was feeling sentimental—an increasingly rare occurrence—she used the nickname.

“Alright, just let me know when you're ready to order,” chirped the girl as she handed Miyeong the menu and bustled off to another table.

The menus had undergone a change as equally dramatic as the interior. Miyeong remembered them as being flimsy paper pamphlets with smudged ink and fingerprints from previous patrons forming a border around the scrawl denoting the different flavors of rolls. She looked at the menu mostly as a nicety; she knew fully that she’d be getting that tuna kimbap roll from her childhood.

Once she’d placed her order, she occupied herself in the meantime by tracing patterns on the tabletop with a pale finger. As a child, she’d usually been given crayons and a notepad to doodle away to her heart’s content; this was the best facsimile she could manage in adulthood.

Either the service had greatly quickened, or more likely she just perceived time better now, because it felt like in a blink of an eye she was presented with her kimbap. The rose-tinted lenses of childhood had most definitely been lifted; she recalled the rolls being colourful with crisp, fresh vegetables that paired perfectly with soft rice and perfectly seasoned tuna. Now when she took a bite, she cringed just thinking about the calories. Even though she was miles away, undoubtedly drilling Celine and Anna now, Miyeong could still practically hear Bora screaming at her about carbs.

It was the combination of that tinny voice in her head and the overwhelming guilt that she wasn’t facing that hell alongside Celine and Anna that made her only able to stomach three rolls before she pushed her plate away and stood up, shaky on her legs. She felt like the floor was swaying beneath her, and that those three rolls would come up and spew all over the polished hardwood. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to feel so guilty about telling Celine and Anna she was ill; now, she certainly felt like it. Maybe the lie had just been a premonition.

She turned to stumble out of the restaurant, and it was only after five shameful steps that she realized she still had to pay for those rolls, even if she hadn’t been able to actually savour them. She turned and tried to walk with a normal gait back to her table; she was already feeling eyes on her from the other patrons wondering who the hell this tottering woman was. They probably thought she was a drunk. 

She sat back down at the table, the chair suddenly feeling like it was made of nails, and flagged down her server. “The bill, please,” she croaked. 

“Oh, Rumi, someone already paid for you.”

“… what?” She blinked.

“Yes, a very kind gentleman came in just as you were ordering,” said the server. “He was coming in for a pickup order and spotted you, said he’d like to pay for the lovely lady. I think you might have an admirer.”

Was Miyeong supposed to be flattered? “And he just… paid for me?” She was somewhat accustomed to men paying for her, but not without sexually harassing her on the side.

“Yes, with a handsome tip for me.” The server was flushed with pleasure. “Quite the gentleman.” 

A cold sensation crept down Miyeong’s spine. “… what did he look like?”

“Oh, he was quite a dreamboat, I’d say,” said the server. “These long purple locks—”

Miyeong’s entire body went cold now. “Where did he go?” The question came out sharp, so the server flinched, probably wondering why this woman seemed so bitchy about her kind patron. Quickly she tried to soften her statement. “I’d love to say thank you.”

“He didn’t say. Probably back home, since he got takeout,” said the server.

Home for the demon was hellfire, and Miyeong couldn’t very well follow it there. But the image of it bringing some kimbap down to Gwi-Ma’s world and munching away among the flames was also absurd. No, maybe it had taken the food back to the closest home it had on Earth—at least the only place she knew about. And it made sense, considering it might also be dropping off a certain token for her there. Killing two birds with one stone.

She didn’t bother to thank the server before she sprinted away. It was a blatant disrespect that she later came to regret, but in her defense she’d maintain that manners weren’t the first thing on her mind when she had a demon to kill before it sucked out the souls of Seoul.

She probably could’ve outdone the top Olympic sprinters with how fast she found herself back at the house. So much for not drawing attention to herself; she got even more weird looks while dashing on the street than the ones she’d gotten staggering at the restaurant. Alas, the preservation of the honmoon went over that of her anonymity and dignity.

Once she got to the door, a huge part of her wanted to just burst to the oak tree to maximize the momentum of the dash here and her element of surprise. With most demons, she would. What prevented her from doing so was not careful consideration of the fact that the demon seemed extremely powerful and that she needed to be better-prepared to face it. 

No, what stopped her in her tracks was tripping on a large root on the ground in her mad dash. 

“Oh!” She couldn’t censor the very undignified gasp that escaped her. She landed face-first on the cold, hard, ground, soil smearing her lips. She gagged and rolled onto her side as she tried to right herself, and—

There was a hand reaching to help her up.

Without hesitation, instinctively, she reached out to take the hand of this stranger who she supposed just happened to be right where she’d been planning on catching the demon.

When her fingers closed around the hand, it was ice-cold. She blinked, and it was only then that her vision readjusted from the shock and saw the violet lines snaking up its palm.

Her gaze snapped up, and she saw that the hand was, of course, attached to a certain purple-haired demon. Her hunter instincts kicked in, and so valiantly she tried to yank her hand away from its icy digits, but it had her in a vice grip.

With a growl, she instead summoned her sword to her free left hand in a flash. She brought it forward, prepared to cleave the demon’s skull in half—-

A few factors contributed to her subsequent failure. The usage of her non-dominant hand and the lack of either of her sisters certainly didn’t help. But another big reason, one that she would be deeply unwilling to admit, was that the demon was just so goddamn mesmerizing.

Those luscious purple locks that a curious part of her wanted to run her fingers through to feel that silky texture and those deep amber eyes… if it’d been human, it would’ve lovestruck her on the spot. Thankfully it wasnt, and so she brought her blade down, with the slightest hesitation—

Anyhow, her reactivity failed her, and just before her weapon hit its skin, it was nothing but a puff of purple smoke.

She was heaving as if she’d just ran a marathon, she was cursing herself out, she was wondering why oh why had she chosen to selfishly take a day off to break her diet and be a horrible friend when she’d just failed at killing one goddamn demon by herself, she was useless—

From above her head, perched in the oak tree:

“That’s what I get for my chivalry? Attempted murder?”