Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The ascent to the old Kim house’s attic was a slow one. The floorboards groaned underfoot with each step, the wood seeming to complain under the weight of a sorrow that had seeped into Minji’s very bones. Pushing the door open, she paused on the threshold, the sheer force of her grief threatening to crush her right where she stood.

This had always been their sanctuary, the heart of her aunts’ magic. A chaotic, wonderful collection of their lives: spellbooks with cracked leather spines stacked in precarious towers, bundles of dried herbs hanging from the rafters releasing faint, ghostly scents, and countless unlabeled jars filled with shimmering dust and dark, viscous liquids. Moonlight spilled through the large casement window, bathing the clutter in a spectral glow that made the dust motes dance like tiny fairies. The thought that she would never again find them here, one bent over a bubbling cauldron and the other poring over an ancient text, was an impossibility her heart refused to accept.

Her gaze drifted, catching on a familiar spine wedged between two larger tomes. It was the first book her aunts had ever read to her and her sisters, the day they first arrived at this house as lost, frightened children. She pulled it from the shelf, the worn cover cool beneath her fingers. Inside, the ink was faded, the words handwritten in an elegant, looping script. As her eyes scanned the page, the words echoed in her mind, not in her own voice, but in theirs, one warm and melodic, the other raspy and full of mischief. The memory was so visceral, so achingly alive, that for a moment the attic’s scent of dust and dried lavender was replaced by the sweet perfume of spring blossoms, and she could feel the lazy warmth of a long-ago sun on her face.

The two women, one tall and willowy, the other short and round as a garden gnome, were setting teacups on the small garden table as the three little girls made a direct line for the sweets.

“For more than two hundred years,” the tall one began, her voice smooth as honey, “we Kims have been blamed for every misfortune in this town.”

“Is that why people hate us so much, Auntie?”

The shorter one chuckled, a sound like rattling teacups. “They don't hate us, darling. We just make them a little… nervous.”

“Let’s face it,” the first aunt countered, “the Kims have always given them something to talk about. It all started with our ancestor, Maria. She was a witch, the first of our line, and you, my dears, are the latest in a long and distinguished heritage.”

“That’s why they wanted to hang her, because she was a witch. Well,” the second aunt amended with a glint in her eye, “the fact that our dear relative was a heartbreaker didn't help much, nor did the fact that the wives of most of her lovers were on the jury that convicted her. But no, I don't think those were the reasons.”

“They feared her because she possessed a gift, a power that you girls have inherited. She possessed the gift of magic. And it was that very gift that saved her life. She escaped the gallows with a neat little trick, but though she got away, she was banished to this small island, with her child still growing in her womb. She waited for her love to rescue her, but he never came. No one ever came. In a moment of desperation, she cast a spell upon herself, that she would never again feel the agony of love. But her bitterness grew, and the spell soured into a curse. A curse on anyone who would dare to love a Kim.”

“So… Dad died because of that? Because of the curse?”

The tall aunt’s expression softened. “Yes, my sweet girl. Your mother knew. That day, she heard the deathwatch beetle ticking your father’s time away. She knew that when you hear the beetle’s song, the one you love is doomed to die.”

“And that is how you came to live with us. We took you into our lives and have raised you as best we knew how.”

“So when you find yourselves the center of attention,” the second aunt chirped, “it’s not that they hate you. It’s that, well… you’re different.”

“Girls, the only real curse in this family is sitting right across the table from you. Your aunt.”

“Oh, come now! You have to admit that anyone who falls in love with a Kim will hopelessly end up six feet under.”

“Nonsense.”

“And what about my poor Klaus?”

“That was an accident.”

“It was fate.”

“It was an accident.”

“No, no, it was fate!”

A sigh, heavy and fragile, escaped Minji’s lips, pulling her back to the cold, silent attic. She blinked, forcing the memory away, and tried to focus on her purpose for being up here. One of her aunts had always worn an exquisite shawl, a masterpiece of silk where vividly colored flowers bloomed in intricate patterns against a black backdrop as deep as a moonless night. Minji knew her aunt would want to be buried in it. The woman had spun a dozen different, wild tales of how she’d acquired it, never telling the same story twice. That secret, like so many others, would now remain a mystery forever, just as she’d always intended.

She found it draped over the rocking chair where her aunt used to crochet for hours. The fabric was just as soft as she remembered. On impulse, she lifted it. As the silk settled over her shoulders, it was more than just warmth she felt. It was an embrace. The distinct, comforting presence of her aunt, wrapping around her, soothing the sharp edges of her sorrow as if she were standing right there with her.

A single tear traced a path down her cheek. She knew then that it wasn't her imagination. In some way, her aunt was here. And then another feeling pushed through the grief, a quiet surge of joy and gratitude, the kind one feels when given a precious gift. At that moment, she understood. The shawl was hers now.

The creak of the attic door pulled her from the moment, and she quickly wiped her cheek, trying to pull her composure back around her like a shield. Even in the pale light, her sister’s fiery orange hair was a beacon.

“Her flight was supposed to land hours ago,” Handong said, her voice tight with worry. “I’m starting to get concerned. She should be here by now.”

“Maybe she stopped in the village…” Minji offered weakly.

“You know she hates every single person who lives in this town. I highly doubt she’s making small talk on the way.”

Minji nodded, a hollow feeling in her stomach telling her Handong was right. This was strange.

“I’ll try calling her again.” For the first time, Handong’s gaze lifted from her phone, her eyes softening as she truly looked at her sister, taking in the dark silk and bright flowers draped around her. “It suits you.”

Minji offered a small, sad smile in return, watching her sister disappear back down the stairs, leaving her alone once more with the ghosts of the past and the anxieties of the present.

Chapter Text

The digital tone of the phone ringing drilled into the heavy silence of the house. One ring. Two. Handong paced the length of the downstairs hallway, the worn runner doing little to muffle her restless steps. Three rings. She could hear Minji moving around in the attic above. Four. She was about to hang up, to surrender to the cold knot of dread tightening in her gut, when the ringing finally stopped. A click, a burst of static, and then the one voice she’d been waiting for.

“Hey.”

The word was raw, breathless, as if it had been ripped from her sister’s throat.

“Bora! Where are you?” The questions spilled out of Handong in a rush, a torrent of worry she couldn’t contain. “I’ve been calling for hours. Are you still at the airport? I can come get you, it’s getting too late for you to come back alone.”

There was a long pause, filled with the crackle of a bad connection or a difficult truth. “…Mmm, no. Uh… okay, first, just calm down. I… I couldn’t make the flight.”

The floor seemed to drop out from under Handong’s feet. “What? Bora, what the hell! The funeral is tomorrow.”

“I said, calm down,” Bora snapped, her voice suddenly sharp. “I’ll be there in time. I’m driving through the night.”

“That’s insane.” The statement was flat, devoid of emotion as Handong’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the illogical. “Why didn’t you get on the plane? You had the tickets…” I helped you find them, she thought, the memory clear as day: the two of them on a video call, scrolling through airline sites, finding the one flight that would get her home with so little notice. It had been expensive, but they hadn't cared.

“…I had a problem.” The explanation was a brick wall, deliberately vague. “Look, don’t worry. I’ll be there in the morning. I’m driving, so I should probably hang up.”

A wave of exhaustion washed over Handong, a bone-deep weariness that had nothing to do with lack of sleep. “Fine,” she conceded, leaning her forehead against the cool wall. “Just… be careful. If you get sleepy, pull over. Even if it’s on the damn shoulder of the road. I can’t bury anyone else this week.”

The silence on the other end of the line was heavy with things unsaid. When Bora finally spoke, her voice was small, stripped of its earlier defensiveness. “…I’m sorry. I’ll be there. I promise.”

The line went dead.

Handong stood frozen in the hallway, the phone still pressed to her ear, listening to the hollow drone of the disconnect. She was utterly bewildered. Yes, her sister had always been the wild one, the whirlwind of chaos to Minji’s quiet strength and her own determined normalcy. But she was also the most meticulous person Handong knew. Bora was spontaneous, not careless. Kim Bora was not the type of person who simply “missed a flight.”

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. And as the oppressive silence of the grieving house settled back around her, Handong felt a chilling premonition that the chaos clinging to her sister was about to come crashing down on their doorstep.

Chapter Text

Handong moved through the kitchen on autopilot. She didn't know what time it was, only that it was too early, a time that existed in the grey space between night and morning. After years as a nurse, her body was a finely tuned machine, accustomed to functioning on the fumes of sleep. She reached for the light switch and jumped, a small gasp escaping her lips as a figure resolved itself from the shadows. Her sister was already there, sitting in the dark.

“God, Minji…”

She flicked the switch. Minji blinked against the harsh glare of the overhead light, her face a pale mask of exhaustion.

“How long have you been sitting here?” Handong asked, her voice softer now.

“I don’t know,” Minji murmured. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

Handong crossed to the cupboard, her mind set on the simple, restorative ritual of making coffee. But when she opened the tin, the metallic scrape echoed in a hollow space. It was empty.

A huff of exaggerated frustration left her, a sound loud enough to cut through the quiet. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“I made a pot yesterday,” Minji said, her voice distant. “I think there was still coffee left in the tin… I don’t know, honestly, I don’t remember it clearly. There should be some left over from yesterday in the fridge.”

Handong opened the refrigerator door, some hope rising in her chest. The glass jug was there, but it too was empty, wiped clean.

“…I swear I haven’t had a single drop since I sat down,” Minji whispered, as if reading her mind.

Closing the fridge door with a quiet click of irritation, Handong returned to her sister’s side. Minji was hunched over on the kitchen stool, a crocheted blanket pulled tight around her shoulders, yet she still seemed to be shivering. Handong reached out and took her hand. It was like ice.

“Unnie, you should have something hot,” she insisted. Her sister began to shake her head, a petulant look forming on her face, but Handong cut her off before she could protest. “You need to get warm. Let me make some tea. The aunts have plenty of it. It’ll settle your stomach and you’ll feel better.”

A part of her knew she was overdoing it, but focusing on her sister, caring for her, made her feel useful. Grounded. Tending to people was her job; it was what she did best. She couldn’t do anything for her aunts, not anymore, but she could do this.

She opened another of the kitchen cupboards. The image in her mind was of a chaotic jumble of tins, boxes, and jars, all overflowing with teas and infusions. But what she found was completely different. The shelves were bare.

“What the…?”

“Okay… that’s weird,” Minji said, a tired, humorless smile touching her lips. “Dongdong, it doesn’t matter. Nothing would stay down anyway.”

“Today is going to be a long day,” Handong stated, her caregiver’s resolve hardening. “We need our strength. I know. I’ll run into town for a minute.”

She glanced at the clock. It was early, but she knew a place that would be open, a place that served the best coffee at this ungodly hour.

“What? No, you don’t have to.”

But Handong was already pulling her coat on over her pajamas, the decision made.

“Then let me go with you. It’s not fair for you to make the trip alone.”

“No, you better stay here in case Bora arrives. Call me as soon as she shows up, okay?”

“Wait.” Minji’s cold hand shot out, catching Handong’s wrist. She pulled her sister closer, until she could press a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek. “Thank you. Be careful.”

Handong wrapped her arms around Minji, holding her for a few seconds longer than necessary, rubbing her back in a futile attempt to generate some warmth. “Wait for me on the couch. You’ll be more comfortable. Listen to your nurse.”

“Alright, alright… stop treating me like an old woman.”

Slipping into her car, Handong took a moment, her hands tight on the steering wheel, just breathing. The house felt like a twisted alternate reality, a place where comfort was inexplicably draining away but the moment she stepped into the cafe, a wave of comforting warmth washed over her. The scent of roasted beans, steamed milk, and sugar felt like normalcy, the first real thing she had felt in what seemed like days, but had only been hours.

As expected at this hour, the cafe was empty. It was located next to the hospital’s emergency department, making Handong a regular customer. The road leading to the industrial park also passed right by, so the cafe opened early, catching the factory workers and the hospital staff who couldn’t stomach the burnt, ulcer-inducing sludge from the ancient vending machines.

She approached the counter, a genuine sense of relief flooding her as she saw Gahyun’s familiar face. The barista’s bright greeting faltered as she registered who it was, her professional smile melting away into one of pure compassion.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Dong.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait, what are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re heading to work…”

“No, not at all.” Handong ran a hand over her tired face. “We were out of coffee at home, and we really needed one… or two.”

“Of course. What can I get you?”

“Umm… for Minji something sweet… maybe a cappuccino. Small, I don’t think I can get her to drink anything bigger. I’ll have a double espresso… maybe I should get one for Bora, too…”

“Right, Bora… I haven’t seen her in years. Is she coming?”

“She’d better be,” Handong muttered darkly.

Gahyun studied her for a moment, her expression thoughtful, then began searching for something behind the counter. “Look, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to fill this thermos with coffee for you. I think it will be enough for the three of you for the whole day, and maybe some more if you have any visitors. Do you have milk at home?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“It’ll stay hot in the thermos until at least noon. If it gets cold, don’t reheat it or it’ll lose its flavor. Heat the milk instead. Whole milk is best; it'll taste richer.”

Handong was suddenly confused, unsure what prompted this improvised barista masterclass, but Gahyeon was speaking with such earnest passion that she felt compelled to listen. She briefly considered taking notes on her phone. “…Okay.”

“And don’t worry about returning the thermos. I have plenty.” Gahyeon came out from behind the counter and placed the heavy, warm thermos into Handong’s hands with a gentle smile.

“…But. How much do I owe you, then?”

“Nothing! Now go home and get as much rest as you can. Okay?”

Handong smiled, still a little stunned. “Thank you so much. Really.”

Gahyeon seemed to hesitate for a split second, then stepped forward and gave her a hug. It was brief, but it felt real, a solid point of contact in a world that had gone all fuzzy.

“Be careful on the road.”

Handong just nodded, offering a quiet farewell before turning to leave, the warmth of the thermos seeping into her cold hands.

Chapter Text

The landscape began to turn into the familiar rolling hills and salt-sprayed trees of home. Bora’s head was a chaotic storm of noise and exhaustion, but in a way, the numbness was a mercy. It kept her suspended in a very specific place, a limbo built from sleep deprivation, the physical ache in her spine after six hours of non-stop driving, and an anxiety so vast and present it made it impossible to feel the true depths of her grief. It was a shield, although a painful one.

The house was set apart from the town, a sentinel on the cliffs. The roar of the waves crashing against the rocks below welcomed her back as if she’d never left. The white of the house stood stark against the brilliant blue of the morning sky, and though she was in a hurry, she couldn't move for a long moment. Her entire focus narrowed to that single image, a memory jolted back to life. She didn’t remember the white ever shining so brightly in the sun, so sharp it almost hurt to look at.

Her hand, trembling slightly, dug into the bottom of her purse, fingers searching for the worn metal of a key. She hadn't used it in years, but it had remained there, waiting in the clutter like an insurance policy. Proof that she had a refuge, a place she could always return to. She had held that key in her palm countless times, on nights when the world felt too dark to bear. But she had always, always returned it to its forgotten corner. She had clung to the wrong things, resisted the pull of home, feeling that if she came back, she would be surrendering. That if she returned to her starting point, everything she had suffered through would lose its meaning, would have all been for nothing.

She slid the key into the lock. She had imagined this moment so many times, but never, not once, had she envisioned this scenario. The home she was returning to no longer truly existed, not without the two women who had been its heart. Taking a deep breath to brace herself against the reality waiting inside, she turned the key and stepped through the door.

The sound of her sisters’ voices, hushed and heavy, drifted from the living room. She walked towards them, her mind fumbling for the right words, for an apology that could possibly be enough. She saw their faces then, Minji’s etched with a sorrow so deep it looked like a physical part of her, Handong’s tight with a worry that was almost anger. Bora opened her mouth to speak, but before a single word could escape, she was enveloped.

Minji’s arms were around her, pulling her into an embrace so fierce it nearly sent her off balance. She felt Handong join them, a solid, grounding presence, and Bora’s own arms came up to hold them both. The collision of feelings, the overwhelming joy of being held by her sisters after so long and the crushing grief that she could never again be held this way by her aunts, finally broke something deep inside her. A single, ragged sob tore from her throat.

The embrace lasted for a long, timeless moment. And then, as they pulled apart, the interrogation began.

They both wanted to know, their questions a gentle but insistent barrage. She had to find something quickly, an answer that would satisfy them, that would let her retreat. The ceremony was still a couple of hours away.

“Please,” she whispered, the word raw. “I’m so tired I can’t see straight. Can I just… can I just sleep for a bit?”

It was enough to make them back off, but it wasn't an excuse. She could barely keep her eyelids from sliding shut.

She climbed the stairs to her old bedroom. Stepping inside was like stepping into a photograph of a stranger’s life. Everything was almost exactly as she’d left it. Posters of rock bands were tacked to the walls, their defiant sneers a monument to a forgotten rebellion. Old clothes she’d forgotten she owned were still piled on a chair. And there, on her bedside table, were photos of a younger version of herself, all wild hair and challenging eyes. The contrast between that free, fearless girl and the trapped woman she was now hit her with brutal, physical force.

She sank onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping with a familiar sigh. And there, surrounded by the ghost of the girl she used to be, she finally shattered. The sobs were silent, choked things, her body shaking with a grief that was for her aunts, yes, but also for herself.

Chapter Text

The ceremony was private. Not by choice, but because not a single soul from the town would have dreamed of appearing.

They had always laughed about it, twisting the town’s fear into a joke. They treated their isolation as an advantage, something that set them above the mundane, something that made them special. But Minji knew it for what it was: pure, unadulterated exclusion. Her entire family had been pariahs in this town for as long as she could remember. So, no, the lack of attendance was not a surprise. They hadn't expected anyone.

The cemetery workers buried the twin coffins with a mechanical indifference. They shoveled the damp earth, their gazes fixed firmly on the ground, on the sky, on anything but the three women standing beside the open graves. Around them, the rest of the headstones were a forest of carved crosses. The one her aunts now shared, though it bore their names, was dominated by a different symbol: a tree, its branches and roots delicately carved into the stone, an intricate web of life.

The moment their work was done, the men packed their tools and left, their hurried footsteps showing their eagerness to be anywhere else.

Left alone in the heavy silence, the three sisters began the real ceremony. Minji lit the bundle of sage, letting the sacred smoke drift over the fresh graves to cleanse them. Handong sprinkled a circle of black salt around the plot, sealing it. Finally, Bora stepped forward, placing a single, vibrant-red rose on each mound of earth. There were no words, no prescribed prayers. Just a shared, silent acknowledgment of the power that had passed, and the power that remained.

Back at the house, the quiet was oppressive, until Bora disappeared into the kitchen. Soon, the rhythmic sound of a knife hitting a cutting board broke the silence, followed by the rich aroma of garlic and spices. It was a simple meal, but with Bora's skill, the simple became sublime. She was, by a wide margin, the best cook among them.

They set the table and sat, the food smelling so good it was impossible not to eat, even though none of them was hungry. Bora had made each of their childhood favorites.

It was Minji who finally broke the silence, her voice sounding strange and thin. "The drive was... okay?"

Bora nodded, pushing food around her plate. "Yeah. Long."

"What happened with the flight, Bora?" Handong asked, her voice quiet but pointed. "You really had us worried."

Bora didn't look up. She took a sip of water, stalling. Just as she opened her mouth to answer, her phone, lying face-down on the table, began to buzz, a harsh, angry vibration against the wood.

Bora flinched as if she'd been struck. Her eyes snapped to it. She glanced at the screen, her entire body tensing, and immediately pressed the side button, silencing the call. She didn't turn it over.

“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to find her place again. “I… I’d been working doubles all week trying to get the time off…”

It buzzed again, persistent and demanding.

This time, she snatched it up, jabbing the "decline" icon with a furious thumb.

“Everything okay?” Minji asked, her voice carefully neutral. Both she and Handong were watching her, suspicion clear on their faces.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just work,” Bora said, shoving the phone deep into the pocket of her jeans. Her leg immediately started bouncing under the table. “They’re just pissed I left. They can’t survive two days without me.” She forced a laugh, but it sounded brittle and sharp.

“Anyway,” she continued, visibly rattled, “I just… I overslept. I set my alarm wrong, and by the time I woke up, it was too late. I missed the check-in.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Minji stared at her sister. The lie about "work" was vibrating with the same panicked energy as the lie about the flight. They were connected. She knew Bora. She knew her when she was exhausted, she knew her when she was sad, and she knew, with chilling certainty, when she was lying. And this, this was a lie. It was a bad one, poorly constructed and delivered by someone terrified.

Minji wanted to press. She wanted to demand the truth, to ask who was calling, to shake her sister until the real story fell out. But she glanced at Handong, who was pointedly stirring her food, her face set in a mask of forced acceptance. It had been over a year since they’d last seen her. They'd just buried their aunts. Pushing Bora now, when she was so defensive, would only make her bolt again. They couldn't risk ruining the little time they had.

Minji said nothing, but the realization settled over her like a shroud. Her aunts were gone, and her sister was in trouble.

Chapter Text

“Hey!”

Bora's heavy footsteps thundered down the staircase, a familiar, chaotic sound that Handong hadn’t realized she’d missed. It felt strange, hearing that much life in the house again.

Bora reappeared, having changed into an old pair of flannel pajama pants and a faded band t-shirt.

“What are you doing in pajamas?” Minji asked, her brow furrowing. “What if someone comes by? To pay respects?”

“Oh, come on.” Bora rolled her eyes. “It’ll be dark soon, and I hate to break it to you, Minji, nobody cares about us.”

She held a battered shoebox above her head like a trophy.

“My magic trunk.”

A small, genuine smile touched Handong’s lips, and she saw Minji’s face soften, too. It was a disorganized drawer where Bora had kept things from their past, mostly related to magic.

Bora dropped the box on the coffee table and started pulling things out. 

“Wait. Before that, I know exactly what we need right now,” Minji declared. “The aunts would have wanted it.”

A beat of charged, complicit silence passed between them, and then all three shouted the words at once:

“Margarita Night!”

What followed was a flurry of cocktail-making chaos. They found the shaker, the salt, the limes, and the aunts’ hidden, top-shelf tequila. It was a tradition their aunts had for special (and not-so-special) occasions. Soon, music was playing, and despite the grief weighing them down, they let themselves go. They sang and danced through the house, laughing, crying, and hugging.

Still holding their salt-rimmed glasses, they eventually collapsed back onto the living room sofa where Bora’s box lay open. They sat in silence for a moment, catching their breath, wrapped in a warm, fragile bubble of tequila and nostalgia.

“It’s still… weird,” Minji said quietly, swirling the ice in her glass.

“What? That we’re drinking tequila after their funeral?” Handong asked.

“No.” Minji looked up, her eyes unfocused. “That they went together. On the same day. One in her bed, one in her rocking chair, just… gone. Both of them.”

“It’s a massive medical coincidence,” Handong said, falling back on her training. “A one-in-a-million statistical anomaly. But not impossible. Their bodies were old. They... gave up.”

Bora, who had been staring into the empty fireplace, let out a small, sharp laugh. “You really believe that, Dong?”

Minji shook her head, her gaze fixed on Bora. "I don't. It was anything but a coincidence." She smiled, a small, sad smile. "It's exactly what you said would happen, that time. They totally stole your idea. Or maybe… you already knew…"

Bora looked confused. "What time? What idea?"

“The night you left,” Handong said, her voice quiet. The memory, sharp as the tequila, cut through the hazy warmth of the alcohol.

The kitchen was dark, lit only by the cold blue light of the moon through the window. Bora had her bag slung over her shoulder, her hand on the doorknob, when Minji’s voice, like ice, stopped her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Bora froze. Handong was standing behind Minji, clutching the front of her robe, her face pale with fear behind her big galsses.

“I can’t stay here, Minji,” Bora whispered, her voice raw. “I hate this place, I want to go somewhere no one’s ever heard of us.”

“So you’re just leaving us?” Minji’s voice was low, furious, shaking with a betrayal that cut deeper than anger. “You’re just going to leave, like she did?”

“Don’t say that!” Bora insisted, dropping her bag. “It’s not the same. Mom... she couldn't cope. I can't cope if I stay. Don’t you get it? There’s a whole world out there. There are things I want to see, things I want to do, and I can’t do any of it here. I can't do it with everyone in this town staring at me, whispering about us, judging every single thing I do. I have to go.”

Handong’s voice was small, trembling with tears. "So you just get to leave? And we have to stay here and... and put up with everything you hate? Don't you even care about leaving us?"

Bora’s head snapped toward her younger sister, her furious expression cracking into one of desperate frustration. “No! It’s not like that. It’s not. We’re still sisters. We’ll always be sisters. Nothing changes that. I love you two more than anything. I’ll always be there for you. Always. I just... I need to see what else is out there. And when I find out... I'll come back. I promise. We're inseparable, the three of us. Nothing, not even distance, can change that.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m never going to see you again?” Minji’s voice lost some of its hardness, softening into something that sounded almost like a plea.

“I’m serious. We’ll live in this house until we’re old. Just like the aunts,” she nodded towards the stairs, towards their sleeping aunts. “Old women with too many cats.”

“Do you promise?” Handong’s voice trembled, the words barely more than a whisper

Bora knew words wouldn't be enough for them to believe her. Deep down, she knew and felt that this was a betrayal. Handong was right; it wasn't fair that only she got to escape that hell. But every word she was telling them was true, and she meant them all. She needed to do something to prove it.

Before they could react, she grabbed a small paring knife from the drying rack. Handong flinched.

“Don’t be a baby,” Bora hissed. With a quick motion, she drew the blade across both of her own palms. Blood welled up, dark in the moonlight. She grabbed Minji’s wrist, and before Minji could pull away, she made a small, shallow cut on her palm. She turned to Handong, who was crying silently.

“Dong. Give me your hand.”

Terrified, Handong did. Bora repeated the motion. Then, she grabbed both their hands, pressing their bleeding palms against her own.

“See?” she said, her voice a desperate, fervent promise. “Blood of our blood. We’re bound. I’m not leaving you forever. We’ll grow old together. We’ll live so long everyone will be sick of us, and we’ll die on the very same day. I swear it.”

She held their hands tight, their blood mixing. “Always together.”

Then she had let go, grabbed her bag, and disappeared into the night, leaving them bleeding in the kitchen.

The memory of the door slamming shut faded, leaving them back on the sofa in the present.

“You were right,” Minji said to Bora, her voice full of a strange awe. “About them. You said it, and it happened.”

“Again. It was a coincidence,” Handong insisted, though her voice wavered.

Minji just looked at Bora, and Bora looked back. It was a shared glance that needed no words. It wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t medicine. It was magic. It was fate.

Bora finally looked away, staring down into her empty glass. “I just… I’d really love it if that promise came true. You know, that we could all live here, together, for that long.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her sudden return and the years of separation.

Minji reached out, placing her hand over Bora’s. “You can always come back, Bora. This is your home. You know that, right?”

Bora nodded, her throat tight, unable to speak.

A fragile silence settled over them, until Bora shook her head, as if to clear it, and clapped her hands together with a forced brightness.

“God, I was so dramatic,” she said, her voice rough. “Anyway! Let’s see what stupid things are in this box.” She reached for the shoebox.

There were a few faded photographs, which they passed between them, their fingers lingering on the glossy surfaces. While flipping through a notebook with pastel-colored pages, Bora stopped dead.

“Oh my god… do you guys remember this?”

She held it up. At first glance, it was just a few scraps of paper, seemingly ripped from something else. After a few seconds, Minji let out a small gasp, her eyes wide with understanding. Handong took one of the scraps, feeling like she was missing something. She read the list of disconnected things, confused.

“Should I know what this is?”

“You don’t remember?” Bora tapped the first line written on the paper. It read: My Love.

Handong’s breath caught. “Wait… is this the spell we cast?”

Her sisters both nodded.

“Wow… it’s been here this whole time.” She held up the papers, looking at them with a giddy, tipsy laugh.

Each sister eagerly searched for her own childhood spell.

Minji remembered the day so clearly. It was shortly after their father died, and their mother, shattered by the curse, had left them with their aunts. Days later, they learned she had died, too. A "broken heart," their aunts had called it. The girls, even then, knew it was a prettier word for suicide. Their mother had blamed herself for their father's death and couldn't bear the loss. The three of them, little witches in a house of magic, had come up with a plan to avoid the same fate. They would create a spell to find their true love, but with a clever twist: they would ask for someone with traits so specific, so impossible, that the person could not possibly exist. They would never fall in love, and they would never suffer their mother’s end.

“Minji, I… I don’t think you understood the assignment,” Bora said, giggling as she read from the paper.

“What? Why?”

“May they be handsome (okay, priorities, very good Minji) may they be hard-working, may they like to help others, may they be a good listener, may they be loyal, may their hugs be the best in the world, may they be understanding… Minji, you just made a list of good things. You basically just asked for a good person. What’s so impossible about that?”

“Everything!” Minji defended herself, her cheeks pink. “How many people do you know who are all of those things?”

“...That’s actually a good point,” Handong mused.

“Besides, what if it was real?” Minji said. “I was scared to put weird things!”

“Oh, wait!” Handong snatched the paper, pointing. “You missed the best part! May they have super cute bunny teeth.”

Bora howled with laughter. Minji couldn't help but laugh too, though she buried her face in a cushion. “Shut up! What about yours? I bet yours is worse!”

Minji grabbed Bora’s list. “May they be in a rock band… may they love spicy food… may their favorite shape be a star… may their skin be on flames. Wait, what? May they be able to do funny, stupid voices… may they know how to skateboard… may they have badass tattoos all over their body… you certainly had a type... May their favorite animal be a wolf. Oh, this is crossed out, and underneath you wrote, May they be as cool as a wolf.”

Minji was laughing so hard she was almost crying.

“What’s wrong with that?” Bora said defensively. “Wolves are cool.”

“You just missed asking for them to be an astronaut,” Handong giggled.

“Alright, let’s see yours…” Bora snatched Handong’s paper and scanned it. Her smile faded into confusion. “But… this is all contradictory. May they talk a lot… may they be quiet… may they have many friends…may they not know many people. May they be blonde, may they be brunette. May they love shopping and may they hate shopping…? Dong, what did you do here?”

Handong leaned back, taking a smug sip of her margarita. “Easy. If the list contradicts itself, it’s impossible for it to ever be fulfilled.”

Her sisters paused, staring at her.

“Wow,” Minji said. “Okay, she wins.”

“Wait,” Bora said, squinting at the last line. “It gets a little weird at the end. Two hearts that beat as one? Where did you even get that from?”

Handong shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably from some book I was reading at the time.”

They were still smiling over the papers when the doorbell rang.

DING-DONG.

The sound echoed through the house, sharp and alien. The laughter died instantly. They looked at each other, confused.

They crept to the front window, peering out from behind the heavy curtain. On the porch, silhouetted against the porch light, stood the figure of a tall woman.

“Ooh…” Handong said, her voice suddenly playful as she glanced sideways at Minji.

Bora, utterly lost, just raised an eyebrow.

Chapter Text

Minji’s heart hammered against her ribs. She smoothed down her sweater, still smelling faintly of tequila and lime. She took her time walking to the door, her sock-covered feet silent on the wooden floor. She opened it, her breath catching in her throat.

It was Yoohyeon.

She stood on the porch, illuminated by the warm yellow light, looking impossibly solid and real in a world that had felt paper-thin all day. Her hands were full, and her expression was a painful mix of shy and deeply empathetic.

“Minji. Hi,” she started, her voice soft. “I… I hope this isn’t a bad time. I tried to ask in town when the funeral would be, but…” She winced, a small, awkward gesture. “No one seemed to know. I even asked the town priest, and well…”

A flash of memory almost comical hit Minji: the priest, his face purple with indignation just last spring when her aunts had accidentally turned the church’s fountain water into bubbling black tar. She could almost hear his voice echoing in her head, screaming at Yoohyeon about those godless women, those witches and their heathen ways.

A small, surprised laugh escaped Minji’s lips. “Oh, you asked Father Michael? God, I’m sorry.”

Yoohyeon let out a breath of relief, a small, genuine smile curving her mouth. “He… he was very loud. I’ve never heard a priest talk like that.”

The shared, quiet laugh that followed was the first clean, uncomplicated thing Minji had felt in days. The sweetness of the situation struck her. Yoohyeon, in her quiet attempt to be there for her, had faced down the town's most self-righteous windbag, all for a funeral that never was.

“Yeah, my aunts and that man never had what you’d call a… cordial relationship,” Minji explained, leaning against the doorframe. “The ceremony wasn't exactly a normal burial.”

Yoohyeon nodded, simply accepting this, as she seemed to accept all the strangeness that came with Minji.

“I thought about texting you to ask,” Yoohyeon continued, her gaze dropping to her hands, “but I didn’t know if I’d be bothering you. So, in the end… I just decided to come. And maybe I’m bothering you this way, too, but I just… I wanted to see how you were. And bring you this.”

She held out a small, perfect bouquet, tied with simple twine. Forget-me-nots and chamomile. Flowers for remembrance and for comfort.

It was such a purely Yoohyeon gesture, so thoughtful and direct. Her throat tightened, the grief and the margaritas making her dangerously vulnerable. This simple act of kindness from someone who barely knew her, who had no obligation to her, felt more profound than a hundred empty condolences.

“You,” Minji said, her voice thick as she took the flowers, “are never a bother.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Yoohyeon’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, as if she’d heard more than Minji had intended to say.

“Oh, and this,” Yoohyeon said, nodding to a worn basket at her feet. Minji hadn't even noticed it. “I also brought you some vegetable stew. And fruit from my garden, so you don’t have to go into the village for a few days. And some mint for tea. And… some chocolate and cookies.”

Minji’s eyes lit up, the tipsy, emotional haze suddenly focusing with laser precision. “Wait. Are those…?”

She peered into the basket and saw the cookies from the town bakery, the ones with the raspberry filling. “Yoohyeon, you are an angel,” she breathed, her reaction far more enthusiastic than the situation warranted. “These are my favorites!”

Yoohyeon’s smile widened, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Minji… is it possible you’re drunk?”

Minji waved a dismissive hand, a giggle escaping before she could stop it. “Just… just a little.” She tried to force down the laugh, which only made it come out as an undignified snort.

It was at that exact moment that Bora chose to appear, looming over Minji’s shoulder with a bright, predatory grin.

“You got here just in time to join Margarita Night!” Bora announced, sticking a hand out. “Hi! I’m Bora. A pleasure.”

Yoohyeon, unfazed, shifted her grip on the basket and shook Bora’s hand. “Yoohyeon. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances, but I’m glad to finally meet you. Minji has told me about you.”

“Oh, she has, has she?” Bora’s smile was all teeth. She turned her head, her gaze locking with Minji’s, a look of pure mischief.

And then, still smiling brightly at Yoohyeon, Bora said, “But what cute bunny teeth you have.”

Time stopped. Yoohyeon just blinked, completely bewildered. “Uh...?”

Minji’s entire body went hot with mortification. She slapped her hand directly over Bora’s mouth, shoving her sister backward. “Don’t listen to her!” she hissed, her voice strangled. “This is why we keep her locked in the basement most of the time.”

Bora, laughing, easily peeled Minji’s hand off her face. “So, a margarita? Yes?”

“No, no, thank you.” Yoohyeon was trying, and failing, to hide her amusement. “I came in my truck. Besides, I just wanted to stop by for a moment. I’m sure your sisters have missed you and want to catch up.”

“Cool. Well, I’ll see you around, then,” Bora said, giving Minji a final, wicked pat on the shoulder before retreating to the living room window, where Handong was shamelessly peering out.

The chaotic tension evaporated with Bora’s exit. It was just Minji and Yoohyeon on the porch again, the quiet night air settling around them. Minji was still reeling from embarrassment, but a wave of gratitude washed over her, even stronger this time.

“Seriously,” Minji said, meeting her eyes. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“Anytime,” Yoohyeon said, and her voice was so sincere it ached. “If you need anything, just tell me. Okay? I’ll be watching my phone. Or, you know, if you just need to talk.”

She was so goddamn good. So earnest and kind and worried about her. Before Minji could second-guess it, before the fear of the curse could paralyze her, she moved. Maybe it was the three margaritas. Maybe it was the grief. Or maybe it was just Yoohyeon.

She stepped across the threshold and wrapped her arms around Yoohyeon’s middle, burying her face in the soft fabric of her jacket. She felt Yoohyeon freeze in surprise for half a second before her arms came up, strong and sure, wrapping around Minji in return, one hand settling between her shoulder blades.

It was the most physical contact they’d ever had, and it was a revelation. It was warmth. It was safety. It was a solid, living thing in a day full of death and ghosts. She couldn’t stop herself; she clung to her, pulling herself tighter. Yoohyeon responded in kind, holding her just as firmly, as if she understood, as if she knew Minji was terrified she might just fall apart if she let go.

She hadn't felt this safe in a very, very long time. It was agonizingly difficult to finally pull away and let go of that feeling.

Yoohyeon didn't step back immediately. She just looked at her, her dark eyes searching Minji’s face.

“Goodnight, Minji,” she said softly.

Minji watched her walk off the porch and down the path. Before getting into her truck, Yoohyeon looked back, not at Minji, but at the living room window. She gave a small, knowing wave to the two figures silhouetted there.

Later that night, long after her sisters had gone to their own rooms, Minji poured water into a small glass vase and placed the bouquet of forget-me-nots and chamomile on her nightstand. She fell asleep to the faint, sweet scent of the flowers, a warmth settled in her chest that had nothing to do with tequila.

Chapter Text

Handong woke at an hour that most people would find unnatural, but for her, it was just… Tuesday. Or was it Saturday? Her ER shifts were a chaotic rotation that had obliterated her internal clock years ago. She’d learned to sleep when she was tired and wake up when she wasn't. It didn't matter what the clock said.

Sunlight, still weak and grey, was just beginning to filter through her window. It was too early for her sisters to be awake. Good.

She grabbed her laptop and headed for the kitchen. She was finishing her critical care specialization this year, and a major paper was looming. If she didn't get a start on it now, the deadline would swallow her whole. This way, she could get a solid two hours of work in before the house woke up.

She reached for the thermos, expecting to pour the last of the coffee Gahyeon had given her. But the thermos felt light, hollow. She unscrewed the top and looked inside. Empty.

A sigh hissed through her teeth. Again? It was as if the house itself was conspiring against her caffeine intake.

Her gaze drifted around the kitchen, weighing her breakfast options, when she noticed the back door. The one that led to the garden. It was ajar.

Did we leave that open all night? A chill that had nothing to do with the morning air ran down her spine. She moved to close it, pushing it gently, but stopped when she heard Bora’s voice on the other side.

It was low, furious, and vibrating with a desperate attempt not to be overheard.

“…That is none of your business.”

A pause, filled only by the distant crash of waves.

“No. No, I’m not doing that. I’m not.”

“I told you I was coming anyway. You don't own me.”

“Are you serious right now? You’re seriously… no. Don't. Don’t you dare say that.”

Handong froze, her hand still on the door. She knew she shouldn’t be eavesdropping. But the conversation felt... heavy. Dangerous. Whoever Bora was talking to, this wasn't just a simple disagreement. 

She was tempted to step out, to make her presence known, but a primal instinct told her to stay hidden. To listen. If her sister wasn't going to be honest with them, this was the only way to know the truth, the only way to help her if she was in trouble.

Bora’s voice rose, cracking with a suppressed shriek. “You think I care about that? After what you did? You can’t threaten me with that! I’m here for my family, you psycho!”

Another pause, this one longer. When Bora spoke again, her voice was different. It wasn’t angry anymore. It was small. Broken.

“…Please. Just… not now. Please, just give me a few days. I just… I just buried them. Please.”

A sob caught in Bora’s throat. Handong’s heart hammered against her ribs. She wanted to rip the phone from her sister’s hand. She wanted to scream at the monster on the other end of the line. But she knew Bora. The second Handong revealed what she’d heard, Bora would shut her down with a viciousness born of shame and pride. She’d cut her off for “interfering,” and then she’d be gone. They wouldn’t hear from her for months.

Handong backed away from the door, the fight-or-flight response making her own hands shake. She grabbed her laptop, shoved it into her bag, and fled. Suddenly, she just needed to breathe air that wasn’t in that house.

Minutes later, she was in Gahyun’s cafe, settled at her usual table by the window. This time, there were a few other customers, but the atmosphere was still calm. Most people got their orders to go, leaving the seating area a quiet sanctuary. She took the first sip of her coffee, a perfectly pulled double espresso, and nodded to herself. It was always worth the trip.

She opened her laptop, ready to dive in and re-read the last paragraph she’d written, trying to find her flow but then the program stalled. The cursor turned into a spinning wheel. A text box filled with code she couldn’t even begin to decipher flashed across the screen, and then it was just... nothing. The screen went black.

“What?”

She pressed the power button. Nothing. She pressed it again, holding it down, her patience evaporating. The screen remained dark. The machine made no sound.

A cold panic seized her. She hadn't gotten much new work done, but all of her course materials were on that drive. Every paper, every research link, all her notes. If she lost that, she was in serious trouble.

Her brain, trained for emergencies, skipped the panic and went straight to solutions. Someone has to fix this. Who? She didn't know anyone in town who did that. But her problem wasn't just that she didn't know a repair person; she barely knew anyone.

Except... she did know one person. The person who knew everyone, and everything that happened in this town.

She walked to the counter, waiting as Gahyun handed a pastry bag to a customer who rushed out.

“Hey, Gahyun… you don’t happen to know anyone who’s good with computers, do you? Mine just... died. Completely.”

Gahyun tilted her head, thinking for a moment, and then her face lit up with a bright smile. “I do, actually. Right next door, just behind those houses.” She pointed through the window, down a small alley. “There’s a new tech shop. The owner is a genius. Whatever it is, she can fix it.”

“Oh, amazing! Thank you. You just saved my life. I didn’t even know we had a computer shop.”

“It hasn't been open long,” Gahyun said, wiping down the espresso machine. “The woman who runs it, Yubin, she moved here about a year ago.”

Handong glanced at the clock. It was still early; the shop probably wasn't open yet. Unable to work, she ordered another coffee and sat at the counter, making company for Gahyun. The barista asked about her studies, about her last shift at the hospital, but inevitably, the conversation found its way back to her family. It was the last thing Handong wanted to talk about, but Gahyun had a way of making it feel safe.

“How are things at the Kim house?”

Handong cringed when she heard the name of her house. Everyone in town always said it with hate and disgust, so she’d learned to brace herself for it. But when the word came from Gahyun’s lips, it didn’t sound harsh at all.

The nurse sighed. “Well… as you’d expect. Luckily, my aunts always had a… unique view of death. So, I don't know. I guess that makes it easier to accept. The stress over Bora has almost been worse.”

Gahyun just looked at her, her expression open, inviting her to say more.

“My sister’s always been the rebel,” Handong found herself explaining. “Everything has to be her way, and if it’s not, she makes so much noise you just end up giving in. She left home as soon as she could because she hated our life here…”

“Yeah, I remember that,” Gahyun said softly. “People talked about it for a long time.”

“Talked? You mean celebrated,” Handong said, the bitterness sharp on her tongue. “They were glad to see her go. Just like they’re glad my aunts are dead and they don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

“Don’t say that, Dong. It’s true, people in this town have never treated your family right, but I don’t think they’re glad.”

“Well…”

Gahyun gently nudged the conversation back. “…And what’s going on with your sister?”

“We stay in touch, but… we rarely see her. We don’t really know how she’s doing. She’s always moving, new city, new job… We’ve accepted that it’s just how she lives, but it’s hard not to worry. I… I heard her on the phone this morning, arguing with someone. And maybe I’m just projecting, but it sounded like… I don’t know. It sounded bad. I’m scared someone is treating her like that.”

“You should talk to her about it,” Gahyun said simply.

“Since she arrived, she’s been giving us excuses and lies every time we try to talk about anything personal. I know she’ll run the second she feels cornered.”

“It’s hard for some people to ask for help,” Gahyun said, her voice full of a wisdom that seemed beyond her years. “Don’t give up on her. I’m sure she loves you both so much. Whatever it is she’s not telling you, it’s probably because she doesn't know how. Use these few days. Be honest with her.”

The advice settled over Handong, simple and true. Gahyun’s perspective cut through her anxiety, giving her clarity. She knew what she had to do. She took a deep breath, feeling newly energized, and realized they’d been talking for so long that the tech shop was probably open.

“Thank you,” Handong said, smiling. “For the coffee. And the therapy.”

“Anytime you need it,” Gahyun smiled back. “I’m here.”

Handong followed Gahyun’s directions and immediately saw the shop she was looking for. It stood out, the door covered in anime stickers and neon decals. A bell chimed as she pushed it open.

The inside was a different world. Consoles, glowing LED strips, high-end monitors, and shelves of components she couldn’t even name filled the space. There was nothing else like this in the entire town, that was for sure. After a moment, a woman emerged from the back room, wiping her hands on a rag. She was blonde, her hair pin-straight, and she wore a tank top under an open flannel shirt.

“Hey,” she said. “What can I help you with?”

“Hi. My laptop just died on me,” Handong explained, the panic returning. “I was just using it, and it started doing weird things, and then it just… shut off. Now it won’t turn back on at all.”

She placed the laptop on the counter like a peace offering. The woman, Yubin, Gahyun had called her, didn’t even look at her. Her eyes were fixed on the machine, her expression one of intense, almost unnerving, focus.

“What were you running?” Yubin asked, her voice low and professional as her fingers flew over the keyboard, trying to force a boot-up.

“Uh, just a word processor. And my email was open in the background, I think.”

“Hm.” Yubin pressed a combination of keys. Nothing. “And you said it was doing ‘weird things’?”

“The screen… flickered. And a warning box popped up, but it was just a string of code or something. Then it died.”

Yubin finally looked up, her gaze sharp and analytical. 

“I need this back, like, yesterday,” Handong rushed to say. “It has all my specialization work on it. If I lose those files…”

“I get it.” Yubin’s voice was calm, cutting through Handong’s rising anxiety. “It’s probably not the drive. Sounds like a logic board failure, maybe the power controller. I’ll have to open it up to be sure. Leave it with me.”

“How long?”

“A few days. I’ll run diagnostics first and call you when I know exactly what we’re looking at.”

“Okay. A few days is fine.” Handong let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Cool. I need your phone number,” Yubin said, pulling out a repair ticket. “You know, in case I need to ask you any… technical questions.” A tiny, almost imperceptible smile played at the corner of her mouth.

Handong recited her number, and as Yubin typed it into her system, Handong’s own phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. It was a text from Minji.

The words hit her like a punch.

“Uh, I have to go. Right now,” Handong stammered, her mind suddenly miles away. “Sorry. Just, please, call me.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll call you if I need to know anything else to fix it.”

“Thanks!”

Handong ran out of the shop, the bell chiming mockingly behind her, sprinting for her car. She just had to get home before Bora was gone.

Chapter Text

Minji watched as Bora threw clothes into her bag with desperate energy, trying to understand her sudden change of plans. 

“Bora, stop. Just stop for one second,” Minji pleaded, her hands outstretched as if she could physically catch the chaos and hold it still. “What are you doing? You just got here. You can’t leave.”

“I have to, Minji. Just… don’t.” Bora’s voice was strained, her back to her sister as she ripped a pair of jeans from a drawer.

“Don’t what? Don’t ask why my sister is running away again, not even a day after we buried our aunts?”

The slam of the front door echoed from downstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs. Handong appeared in the doorway, breathless, her face flushed from her run from the car. She took in the scene: Minji's desperate stance, Bora’s packed bag on the bed.

“What’s going on?” Handong demanded. “Minji texted me… Bora, what…? You said you were going to stay at least for a week.”

“I have to go,” Bora bit out, refusing to look at either of them as she zipped the bag with a violent tug.

Handong’s expression sharpened, her mind clearly connecting the dots. “Is this about that call?” she asked, her voice dangerously quiet. “The one you were having in the garden this morning?”

Bora froze. She turned around slowly, her face a mask of such sudden fury that Minji took an involuntary step back.

“You were spying on me?”

“Spying?” Handong shot back, her own anger rising. “You were shouting, Bora! I heard you from the damn kitchen! Who were you talking to like that?”

“That is none of your goddamn business!”

“It is my business when you show up here with a lie about a missed flight and then take off like a scalded cat after a phone call!”

“Both of you, stop!” Minji’s voice cracked, but it was lost in the rising storm. “Please, just calm down!”

Handong ignored her, her eyes locked on Bora. But then, as if remembering something, her expression shifted. The anger drained away, replaced by a pained concern.

“Bora,” Handong said, her voice soft now, and all the more piercing for it. “Forget the shouting. You sounded scared. We just… we just want to help you. Whatever this is…”

The kindness was what broke her. Bora let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob.

“Help?” she sneered, the word dripping with a venom that made Minji flinch. “You want to help me? You two?”

She jabbed a finger at Handong. “How? By pretending to be something you’re not? By working yourself to the bone in a town that hates our guts, just so you can feel normal?”

Then, she turned on Minji. The look in her eyes was one of devastating pity, and it was the cruelest weapon she could have used.

“Or you?” she whispered, and the words landed like a slap. “Are you going to help me, Minji? How? You’re so terrified of the curse, so scared of living, you’ve locked yourself in this house. You’re a ghost, just like the aunts. You can’t even help yourself.”

Silence. Thick, suffocating, and absolute. The words hung in the air, vibrating with their poisoned truth. Minji felt as if all the air had been punched from her lungs. She couldn't breathe, couldn't speak.

Bora’s face crumpled for a second, a flash of regret, but she shoved it down, hardening her expression again. She snatched her bag off the bed.

“I can’t,” she whispered, shoving past Handong. “I just… I can’t be here.”

Minji didn’t move. She just listened to the sound of her sister’s footsteps thundering back down the stairs, the violent slam of the front door, and the roar of a car engine fading into the distance. She was left alone with Bora's words echoing in the empty, silent room.

Chapter Text

Gahyun stood behind the counter, staring at the door. Handong was gone, heading straight for Yubin’s shop. The sound of the door chime had long faded, but the agitation Handong brought always lingered. 

She released a sigh she hadn't realized she was holding.

It was always like this with Handong. She’d appear like a focused hurricane of stress, her fiery orange hair and an intensity that made everything around her seem to speed up. And then she’d disappear, leaving Gahyun with her heart beating just a little too fast.

Gahyun wiped down the counter where Handong had been standing, her fingers carefully avoiding the space where Handong’s hand had rested. It was ridiculous how a simple, everyday interaction could leave her feeling so flustered. She’d been hiding this secret crush on Handong Kim since high school.

Back then, Gahyun was a shy freshman, and Handong was an untouchable senior. She was brilliant and intimidatingly smart. Gahyun couldn't understand how no one else seemed to see her. The rest of the school just looked at Handong and saw one of the Kim girls, a name spit out like a curse, something associated with stories of dark magic and dead men.

But Gahyun saw the way Handong argued in debate club, her focus sharp and bright. She saw her carrying stacks of textbooks, her determination a visible shield. Handong wasn’t some evil witch pulled out of a children’s storybook. She was just... better than everyone else.

Gahyun had worshipped her from afar, a secret she guarded as closely as if it were dangerous. She knew what would have happened if she’d admitted it. In this town, it was social suicide. They would have made her life impossible. She often wondered, though, what might have happened if she had been brave. Just once. Maybe they could have found some small happiness together.

She scoffed at herself, the motion bitter. As if Handong Kim would have ever noticed her. She never had a chance. Not then, and not now.

Handong went off to college, and Gahyun's crush faded. It had to. It settled into a dull, sweet memory. Gahyun stayed. She finished school, started working full time at the cafe, and eventually, she even fell in love with someone else. She got her heart broken. Life went on.

Years later, Handong returned.

She came back with a degree and a blue nurse uniform. She came back with a purpose. Gahyun watched her. She saw Handong trying, really trying, to integrate. She saw her hold her head high, a confident woman, just trying to prove to the town that she was one of them. 

When Handong started showing up at the cafe frequently, ordering black double espressos at all hours, all those old feelings rushed back. They were stronger now. This wasn't a schoolgirl crush. This was admiration. This was a deep, painful longing for a woman who was braver than Gahyun could ever be.

But what did she do? Nothing. She was a coward. She still lived in this town, still served coffee to the people who would cross the street to avoid Handong. If she asked Handong out, she wouldn't just be whispered about. She'd be hated. Cast out right alongside her. She hated herself for it, for letting this town dictate her happiness. So she just made her the best coffee she knew how, smiling professionally while her heart did stupid things in her chest.

And now, she’d sent her to Yubin.

Gahyun frowned, scrubbing a mug with too much force. She wondered if that had been a good idea. Yubin was the only person who could fix a dead laptop that quickly, but...

The thought of Yubin brought a familiar pang. It was a mixture of sadness and something warmer. She let out another sigh, this one heavier. Her heart was a mess lately.

Chapter Text

A few days after Bora’s leaving, the house was still filled with the heavy silence that follows a battle. Minji sat at her desk, staring at a blank sheet of expensive, cream-colored paper.

Despite having a phone, Minji had always adored the whole process of correspondence. She loved the weight of the paper, the drag of a fountain pen’s nib, the way the ink bloomed on the fibers. She loved the ritual. Sometimes, she would even add small sketches with the pen, things like a sprig of lavender, a sleeping cat, or tiny snapshots of her day. She believed that putting that much work into the message imbued it with her feelings, turning a simple letter into a type of spell.

The only advantage to Bora always living far from home was that Minji could indulge this hobby by writing to her. Her sister didn’t always reply, but when she did, Minji saved her letters, re-reading them on days when the distance felt too vast.

But this time, she was blocked. The entire situation had left an unsettled feeling in her gut, a dark dread she couldn’t shake. Bora’s parting words, cruel and hurtful, had wedged themselves in her heart. For the first time, she didn't know what to say. How could she write, “I hope you’re well,” when she knew she wasn’t? How could she write, “I miss you,” when the last time she’d seen her, she’d been looked at with such contempt?

Several attempts, crumpled and stained with inkblots, already filled the wastebasket. 

Absentmindedly, she stirred her coffee, not realizing it had gone cold long ago. She also failed to notice that the spoon was moving on its own, her magic quietly doing the work for her.

With a sigh, she pushed back from the desk and walked to the window. It was early, and the sky was a blanket of flat gray. Her gaze drifted sideways, landing on her phone, which lay on the desk. An idea flickered in her mind, a tiny spark of warmth in the cold room. She bit her lip.

She picked it up. Her fingers felt clumsy but she typed.

She stared at the screen, her heart suddenly beating a little faster. She was about to put it back down, convinced it was a stupid idea, when the screen lit up. Three small dots appeared, pulsing. Yoohyeon was typing.

The reply came almost immediately.

A smile tugged at Minji’s lips before she could stop it.

A second later, a small sticker popped up: a cartoon rabbit wearing muddy boots and a determined expression. Minji laughed, a real, genuine laugh.

Chapter Text

The dirt road to Yoohyeon’s farm was in such terrible condition that Minji bounced in her seat, her small car complaining with every pothole. Yoohyeon owned several hectares of land where she’d been growing vegetables and fruit for years, but lately, she had begun adding products the other local farmers would never dream of planting: rare herbs, edible flowers, and stranger, more potent botanicals.

Yoohyeon always claimed it was an untapped niche market, a smart business move.

Minji knew better. The only reason Yoohyeon was growing acres of mugwort and angelica root was, quite simply, her.

Her mind drifted back, as it so often did when she drove this road. Back two years, to a day that had changed everything.

Minji’s arms ached, her fingers numb from the weight of the tote bags digging into her skin. It was late, and the Sunday market that filled the harbor promenade was packing up. The air smelled of salt, old fish, and the sweet, decaying scent of leftover produce. She had what she needed for the week, things like potatoes, onions, and some apples, but she still hadn't found what she was always searching for: ingredients for her homemade remedies, all of them natural, with just a touch of magic.

None of the vendors in town dealt with her out of choice. She was a Kim. They took her money with pinched, wary faces, and flinched as if she might curse them if she was short-changed. They certainly didn't entertain her requests for "weeds" or offer to grow things for her.

The stalls were emptying. Defeated, she was about to turn back when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. A large, orderly pile of carrots on a table she didn’t recognize. But it wasn’t the carrots that had caught her attention. It was their leaves. They were long, lush, and vibrantly green. Most farmers lopped them off, but these were intact. A slow smile spread across Minji’s face. Finally. Something she could work with.

She approached the stall. The woman behind it was wiping down the table, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looked up and smiled, a bright and unguarded smile that took Minji by surprise.

“Last call,” the woman said cheerfully. “Carrots are half-price.”

“Actually,” Minji said, trying to sound casual, “I was wondering… how much for the greens?”

The woman paused, her cleaning rag hovering. “The… greens? You mean the tops?”

“Yes. Just the leaves. I don't need the carrots.”

The woman’s smile didn’t falter, but her brow furrowed in genuine, comical confusion. “But… that’s the part people throw away. It's compost. I can’t… sell you compost.”

“It’s not compost,” Minji insisted, feeling a strange need to defend her request. “It’s for… pesto.”

“Carrot-top pesto?” The woman looked intrigued, not dismissive. It was a novel reaction.

“Among other things,” Minji said vaguely. “So, how much?”

The woman, Yoohyeon, her handwritten sign said, laughed. It was a full, throaty sound. “Look, I’m not taking your money for trash. Seriously. Just… take them. Please. Take all of them.”

Before Minji could argue, Yoohyeon was snapping the greens off every carrot left, stuffing them into a fresh paper bag until it was overflowing. She pushed it into Minji’s hands.

“There. Enjoy your… pesto.”

Minji stared at her, speechless. It was the first act of kindness she’d received from a stranger in this town in years. She’d left the market that day with more than just carrot tops.

The memory faded as Minji pulled to a stop near the main greenhouse, parking her car next to Yoohyeon’s battered blue truck. She’d worn her “best clothes” as requested: faded jeans, a thermal henley, and a pair of worn-out boots.

She found Yoohyeon kneeling in the mud in one of the new fields, gently tamping down the earth around a row of delicate-looking seedlings.

“Ah! Finally… my most demanding client. What took you so long?” Yoohyeon called out without looking up, though her voice was laced with amusement.

“Sorry, the road’s trying to swallow my car,” Minji said, walking over. She knelt beside her, the knees of her jeans immediately sinking into the damp soil. “What’s this? They look fragile.”

Yoohyeon’s face lit up with a quiet, focused pride. “They are. But look.” She pointed to a cluster of small, silvery leaves. “They’re taking. It’s the silver-leaf sage you were talking about.”

Minji’s breath caught. She’d mentioned this once, months ago, in passing. She’d said it was nearly impossible to cultivate in this climate; that it needed a perfect balance of moisture and drainage, and that it soured if the soil was even slightly off. And Yoohyeon had just… done it. For a product Minji had only just started experimenting with.

“Yoohyeon…” she breathed, her fingers gently touching one of the velvety leaves. “This is… this is incredible.”

“They’re hard to please,” Yoohyeon said with a shrug, as if it were nothing. “But I think I figured out the soil mix they like. We should have a usable harvest by the next equinox.”

They worked in a comfortable silence for a while, Minji falling into the easy, meditative rhythm of weeding alongside her. The simple, physical act was a balm, soothing the raw, frayed edges of her nerves, still rubbed raw from Bora’s departure.

Finally, Yoohyeon sat back on her heels, wiping a smudge of mud from her cheek with the back of her glove. “Speaking of your new product,” she said, her tone shifting from farmer to friend. “The shop. You’re supposed to have the grand opening soon, aren’t you?”

Minji’s hands stilled. The dread she’d been holding at bay all morning crept back in. “In two weeks.”

“Okay.” Yoohyeon just watched her, her gaze steady and perceptive. “Minji, it’s… it’s normal, you know. If you wanted to postpone it. After everything with your aunts… and with Bora…”

Minji’s throat tightened. She had been bracing for pressure but not this. Not understanding.

“I… I don’t know,” Minji admitted, and the honesty of it felt heavy. “It feels wrong to celebrate anything right now. But it also feels like if I stop, I’ll… I don’t know. Just stop.”

“There’s no right way to do this,” Yoohyeon said softly, her voice a solid, grounding presence in Minji’s chaos. “Whatever you decide, it’s the right decision. If you open, I’ll be there. If you wait… I’ll be here. With plenty of weeds to pull.”

Minji looked at her, at this kind, steady woman kneeling in the dirt, who had grown an impossible plant for her, who saw her grief and didn't try to fix it, but just… sat with her in it.

Her heart ached, a familiar, painful pull. It was the terrifying, wonderful, agonizing feeling of falling in love. And she was powerless to stop it.

Chapter Text

The bell on the tech shop door chimed, and Handong stepped back into Yubin's organized chaos. She was at her workbench, her back to the door, a soldering iron in one hand. She didn't turn around, but just raised her voice over the low hum of a dozen machines.

“It’s on the counter. Black laptop, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” Handong walked up to the counter, her dead laptop sitting there, looking deceptively normal. “Did you… did you figure it out?”

Yubin finally put the iron down and swiveled in her chair. She looked tired, but her eyes were bright, analytical.

"Ah, you're back," Yubin said, leaning back in her chair. "Before we get to the damage report, I need your name. You bolted out of here so fast last time, I never got it."

Handong felt a flush of embarrassment rise to her cheeks. "Oh. Sorry about that. It's Handong."

Yubin typed something into her monitor, then smiled. "Okay, 'Handong.' That's better. I had to log the repair ticket under 'Mysterious Pretty Redhead in a Hurry.'"

A surprised, genuine laugh escaped Handong's lips. "You're kidding."

"I needed a name," Yubin shrugged, a small, playful smile on her lips. "And you are… were in a hurry. So, Handong." Her tone shifted, becoming more serious. "Yes, I figured it out. And I’ve got to tell you, this was… weird.”

Handong's brief moment of levity vanished. She really has no idea who I am, she thought, and the relief was so intense it almost made her dizzy. Yubin being new to town was a gift. She wasn't looking at Handong like a threat or a monster. She was just a customer. A customer who was, apparently, a mysterious, pretty redhead.

"Weird?" Handong repeated, her stomach dropping. "Is it broken? The files?"

“The files are fine. I got it to boot.” Yubin stood and walked over, tapping the laptop's case. “It took me a while to figure out what was wrong, because I couldn't understand how you did this with just normal user activity.”

Handong bristled slightly. “What do you mean, how I did it?”

“I don’t mean you did it, exactly,” Yubin clarified, holding up her hands. “I mean the failure was specific. It wasn't a virus, it wasn't a corrupted OS, and it wasn’t a typical hard drive crash. The main power controller on the logic board was just… fried. Completely scorched. Like it took a massive, targeted power surge, but one that somehow didn't trip your house’s breaker or affect anything else on the machine.”

She leaned on the counter, looking at Handong with a curious intensity. “It’s just not a 'normal' failure. I had to bypass the chip and reroute the main power lead just to get it to turn on. So… what exactly were you doing when it happened?”

“I… I told you,” Handong said, feeling suddenly exposed. “I was in the cafe. I was just writing a paper.”

“Right. In the cafe.” Yubin nodded slowly, her expression skeptical.

Handong saw the look and couldn't help but sigh, though a small smile played on her lips. "I can see the wheels turning in your head. I’m sorry to disappoint you and ruin the whole movie you’ve probably cooked up, but I’m not a secret government hacker. I don't work for some shadow agency either."

Yubin raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh yeah? You sure? That power surge looked like a professional sabotage."

Handong laughed, the sound light in the quiet shop. "Positive. I'm just a nurse. One who sleeps way too little and had a university paper due, like, yesterday. The only 'surge' I was creating was from pure panic and too much caffeine."

Yubin's expression changed, her skepticism softening into genuine surprise. "Wait, a nurse? At the hospital here, near the highway?"

"Yeah. That's the one," Handong said, surprised by her interest. "Why?"

"Huh. That's... actually one of the main reasons I moved to this town," Yubin admitted, leaning against the counter again. "The town's tiny, but that hospital's trauma center has a serious reputation. I figured if I was going to live somewhere quiet, it should at least have top-tier emergency services."

"That's... surprisingly practical of you," Handong said.

"I like my odds," Yubin replied. "So, an ER nurse. That explains why you were in a hurry. Okay, maybe I’m the one making up movies, but you have to admit, that exit you pulled last time was pretty dramatic. Straight out of a medical drama. Your job must be stressful as hell."

Handong smiled, feeling a real connection. "You have no idea. But being dramatic just runs in my family, it’s got nothing to do with my job."

The bell on the door chimed, and another customer, an older man holding a dusty computer tower, walked in. Yubin's easygoing expression snapped back into professional mode.

"Ah. Duty calls," she said under her breath. She turned her attention back to the laptop. "Look, it’s fixed for now. Your data is 100% there. But I’m just warning you, the bypass is a temporary solution. It’s stable, but it’s not perfect.”

“So it’s going to break again?” Handong sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“Eventually. Or,” Yubin said, that tiny smile playing on her lips, “you could let me just replace the whole board. And while I’m in there, I noticed your battery is starting to swell. You should really get that replaced before it actually explodes."

“Oh. Right.” Handong was relieved. "Okay. Well… thank you. For saving it. How much do I owe you for this?"

“For this? Nothing. It was a diagnostic,” Yubin said, tapping the counter before turning to her new customer. “Call it a professional courtesy. For a fellow emergency worker.”

“Oh. Thank you. I…”

“Just bring it back when you’re ready to fix the battery,” Yubin called over her shoulder, already focused on the man's dusty tower. “And maybe… try not to use it during any lightning storms or whatever you were doing last time.”

Handong stared at her back for a moment. “It wasn't... it wasn't storming,” she said softly, but Yubin didn't seem to hear.

Chapter Text

By the time Minji got home, she was exhausted. The dampness from the fields had seeped into her clothes, settling deep into her bones with a chill that felt impossible to shake.

She went straight to the bathroom, turning the tap until steam filled the small room, fogging the mirror. She opened a jar of her own handmade bath salts, a mix of Dead Sea salt, dried lavender, and rosemary, and poured a generous amount into the tub. The water immediately clouded, releasing an herbal scent that was comforting and cleansing.

Sinking into the heat was a slow, agonizing relief. She stayed there for a long time, eyes closed, letting the scalding water chase the chill from her body and relax the sore muscles in her back and shoulders. It felt good.

She was tired, yes, but it was a good kind of tired. It was the ache of accomplishment, the feeling of having put her effort into something real. She felt connected. Connected to the rich, dark soil, to the cycle of planting and growing, and, in a way that made her heart clench, connected to Yoohyeon.

She could feel herself, slowly, piece by painful piece, being pulled back to earth. She was grounding. She was moving again.

And just as it always did, the moment she began to feel that movement, the moment happiness felt like a possibility, the alarms screamed in her head.

Stop.

Bora’s words, sharp and cruel, echoed among the steam in the room. You’re a ghost, just like the aunts. You’re so terrified of living, you’ve locked yourself in this house.

A painful lump formed in her throat. She sank lower in the water, as if she could drown out the thought. But she couldn't. Bora was right. She had stayed frozen by a fear so profound that every step forward felt like walking off a cliff. And with every passing month, every passing year, it became harder to move. She knew this. But doing something about it... that required a courage she simply didn't possess.

She could see a path with Yoohyeon. She could see it easily, so clearly it felt very real: mornings spent in the fields, evenings spent in her shop, a life of shared work and simple but also fulfilling love. It was a tangible thing, right there in front of her.

But she also knew, with a sickening certainty, exactly where that path led.

Bora could reproach her with such ease because she didn't understand. She hadn't been there. She hadn't felt what it was like to hold the hand of someone you loved, to look into their lifeless eyes, and to know, with a guilt that would corrode your soul for eternity, that they were no longer in this world because of you.

Minji felt her heart had fallen into a trap. There was no good outcome. No matter what she did, she was doomed to suffer. The only clear difference, the only variable she could control, was that she could still save Yoohyeon from that curse.

And that was why, she realized, as the water began to cool around her, the best thing she could do for the woman she was falling in love with was to stay perfectly still. To remain the ghost Bora accused her of being. She had to stay right where she was, and reject the very happiness that was waiting just within her reach.

Chapter Text

The smell of fresh paint and raw sawdust was thick in the air, a scent Handong usually associated with progress. But as she struggled with an Allen key, all she felt was a creeping dread.

Minji was on the other side of the room, humming softly as she meticulously organized small glass jars on a unit they had just finished building. The shop was coming together. It was bright, clean, and smelled of potential.

And that, Handong thought, was the problem.

Minji had poured every last drop of her energy into this project. After the aunts' funeral, and especially after Bora’s disastrous departure, this shop had been the one thing keeping Minji from collapsing back into the hollow shell she’d been for years. Handong had encouraged it and championed it because it was a sign of life. It was something.

But now, standing in the nearly finished reality, Handong couldn't ignore the project's fatal flaw.

“It really looks amazing, unnie,” Handong said, her voice careful. She tightened a screw, the metal biting into the cheap particle board. “You’ve worked so hard.”

“It’s almost ready,” Minji said, keeping her back to her. She sounded almost happy.

Handong’s stomach tightened. She had to say it. She had to manage the expectations before the inevitable crash.

“I just mean,” Handong started, choosing her words as carefully as if she were administering a dangerous medication, “that this town… you know how they are. If it takes a while for things to pick up, it’s not your fault. It’s theirs. It’s this place. It has nothing to do with you or your products.”

Minji stopped humming. She turned, a small frown on her face. “It’ll be fine.”

“I know it will,” Handong lied, forcing a smile. “I just... I don’t want you to be disappointed if it’s slow. A business needs customers, Minji. And the people here… they barely look us in the eye. I don't know if they're ready to walk into a shop with Kim written on the door.”

She was afraid. If this failed, if the town ignored this shop as Handong knew they would, Minji wouldn't just be disappointed. She would lose the little hope she had found again. She would retreat so far back into that dark, quiet house, back into her grief and her fear of the curse, that Handong wasn't sure they could ever get her back.

Before Minji could reply, the bell above the shop door chimed, a bright, cheerful sound that made them both jump.

Yoohyeon stood in the doorway, and the entire atmosphere of the room shifted. She wasn't in her muddy work overalls. She was in clean jeans and a soft-looking sweater, her hair was down, and she was smiling, holding a small potted plant as a gift. She looked vibrant and warm.

“Wow,” Yoohyeon said, her eyes wide with genuine admiration. “Minji, it’s… it’s beautiful.”

Minji’s face lit up, a blush rising on her cheeks that had nothing to do with the manual labor. Handong watched her sister, realizing that there was also this other little hope for her. She saw that unguarded spark of joy in her face and made an executive decision.

“Well,” Handong said, loudly dropping the Allen key onto the cardboard box. She wiped her dusty hands on her jeans. “Look at the time. I should really get going. I want to catch up on some sleep before my double shift.”

“What?” Minji’s voice was sharp, panicked. “No, wait. Don't you want to help with this last unit? The big one?”

Handong looked at the large, complicated box still leaning against the wall, then at Yoohyeon, who was looking between the sisters with polite confusion. Oh, unnie, you are hopeless, Handong thought.

“I think you two can handle it,” Handong said, grabbing her coat. “Besides, you need to show Yoohyeon where you want that plant to go.”

“Handong, wait,” Minji insisted, following her to the door, her eyes pleading. The desperation was confusing. Minji liked Yoohyeon. Why was she fighting this?

Handong just gave her a pointed look and stepped outside onto the sidewalk. Minji followed, closing the door halfway behind her, leaving Yoohyeon inside.

“I’ll see you at home. Have fun,” Handong said pointedly, gesturing back at the store to make her meaning obvious. She started to walk away so her sister couldn’t reply.

“Dong, wait.”

Minji’s voice was low and strange, all the panic gone, replaced by something much colder. Handong stopped and turned. Minji wasn't looking at her. She was looking up.

It was dusk, the sky a deep, bruised purple, and the moon was already high. It was bright, but there was something wrong with it. A perfect, luminous circle of light, like a halo, was suspended around it. It was beautiful, and it made the hair on Handong’s arms stand on end.

“You see it,” Minji stated. It wasn't a question.

Handong’s stomach clenched, but she forced a scoff, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. “See what? The moon? It’s bright tonight.”

“The ring, Handong. You know what that means.”

The words hung in the cold air. Handong knew. She knew the omen as well as she knew her own name. A ring around the moon, a circle of light. Trouble soon will come to night.

She tore her eyes from the sky and looked at her sister. “It’s an optical illusion, Minji. It’s just ice crystals in the upper atmosphere. It’s science. It doesn't mean anything.”

Minji just held her gaze, her face pale, her expression certain. Handong broke contact first.

Minji stepped closer then, hesitation flickering only for a second before she pulled Handong into a tight embrace. For a moment, neither of them spoke, their breaths clouding the air between them.

When Minji finally let go, her hands lingered on Handong’s shoulders. “Just… be careful, Dong,” she whispered. “Please.”

Handong nodded, the words catching in her throat. “I will. I have to go, but…” she paused, her voice tight. “Give her the chance to make you happy. You deserve it.”

She saw Minji freeze for a second, and she walked away quickly, refusing to look back up at the sky. But the image was seared into her mind. She could lie to her sister. She could lie to herself. But she knew, deep in her bones, that the cold, beautiful ring in the sky was a warning.

Chapter Text

Minji watched her sister walk away, her words still resonating in her head, making her pulse jump. She forcibly pushed the thought away, plastering on a professional smile. She had to be normal. She had decided to keep Yoohyeon at a distance, and that meant acting like a friend. A business partner. Nothing more.

“So, this is it,” Minji said, her voice a little too bright as she gestured around the main room. Yoohyeon looked around, impressed.

The shop was medium-sized, the walls painted a soft, clean white that made the space feel open and bright. Most of the tall, wooden shelves they’d spent the last two weeks assembling were already in place, lining the walls in careful symmetry.

“The counter is still in boxes,” Minji explained, pointing to a large pile of flat-pack furniture still waiting by the front window. “But you can see the basic shape of it.”

“Minji, this is incredible,” Yoohyeon said, her voice full of genuine warmth. “It’s real.”

“It’s… getting there.” Minji felt a familiar knot of anxiety. She led Yoohyeon toward the back. “The real mess is back here.”

She pushed open the door to the workroom, her true sanctuary. If the shop was clean and serene, the back room was chaotic. A large workbench dominated the center, covered with mortars and pestles, glass beakers, and scales. Bunches of dried herbs, everything from lavender to mugwort, hung from the ceiling rafters filling the air with their mingled scent.

“This is where I’ll actually work,” Minji said, unable to hide a note of pride. “I used to do everything at home, but it’s too much now. I figured it’s better to prepare everything here. That way I can finally have a normal kitchen again.” She let out a small laugh. “Handong once mistook one of my creams for yogurt. She noticed on the third spoonful.”

Yoohyeon laughed too, shaking her head. “That sounds dangerous. I bet she was mad for days”

Minji smiled, her tension easing for a brief moment. “This is the distillery,” she said, pointing to a small copper contraption. “For essential oils. And this is the curing station for the soaps and candles.”

Yoohyeon ran a finger over a heavy, cast-iron pot. “This all looks... complicated. I was never good at chemistry.”

Minji smiled. “It is chemistry, but it doesn't feel like it. It’s more like baking, you just follow the recipe.” She sighed, a small, involuntary sound. “I actually thought about adding edibles to the shop. You know, homemade cookies and sweets. But I’m terrible at it. My actual baking... it’s a disaster.”

She looked away, her thoughts drifting. “I was going to ask Bora to help. She’s the real cook. But… she left before I got the chance.”

A comfortable silence settled between them. “Have you heard from her?” Yoohyeon asked gently.

Minji shook her head. “I sent her a letter. The way we usually do.” She didn't add that she didn't even know if the address she'd used was still good. “But nothing yet.”

“She’ll come around,” Yoohyeon said with a simple certainty that Minji envied. Yoohyeon then clapped her hands together, her smile returning. “Anyway, I didn't just come here to inspect your progress. I came to rescue you. You’ve been working too much. You need a break. Let me buy you a drink. A real one, not just coffee in the fields.”

Minji’s first instinct was to say no. I can’t. It’s too dangerous. I have to keep her safe.

But then, the image of the moon flashed in her mind. The luminous, terrifying ring. Trouble.

Her worry for the imminent omen suddenly eclipsed her fear of the curse.The thought of being alone, or letting Yoohyeon be alone, with that celestial warning hanging over their heads, felt more dangerous than sharing a drink. If Yoohyeon was with her, she was safe. She could keep an eye on her.

“Okay,” Minji said, the word coming out a bit more breathless than she’d intended. “Yeah. A drink sounds… good.”

Yoohyeon looked genuinely delighted, her smile bright and easy. As they walked down the main street, she hummed softly under her breath, swinging her arms a little. The simple gesture made Minji’s chest tighten unexpectedly. She hadn’t seen Yoohyeon this happy in weeks.

Night had already fallen. The air was cold enough to sting their cheeks, and above them, the sky was deep and clear. The halo around the moon was sharper now, but the glow of streetlights and the sound of Yoohyeon’s laughter made it seem distant, unimportant. Maybe, she thought, it couldn’t mean anything bad if they were together.

The town’s only decent bar was just ahead. As they got closer, Minji’s steps faltered. Yoohyeon stopped beside her, turning with an amused smile. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re backing out already.”

Minji didn’t answer. Her gaze was fixed on the door. Voices and laughter spilled out each time it opened, and she could already feel the weight of eyes that weren’t yet on her.

“You know what,” Minji said, stopping just short of the door. “It’s a nice night. We can just sit on the terrace.”

Yoohyeon looked at her, confused, pulling her jacket tighter. “Minji, it’s freezing. And neither of us smokes. Why would we sit out there?” She tilted her head. “Are you worried about running into someone?”

Minji hesitated, her stomach churning. “It’s just… There are a lot of people in there. It’s better if they don’t see me with you. I don’t want to cause you any problems.”

She said it as if Yoohyeon should understand, but as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. Their entire relationship had existed in safe bubbles. The farm. Her home. Yoohyeon’s market stall. They had never done this. Never walked through the town together, as people. As... friends. Yoohyeon had no idea what she was talking about.

“Problems?” Yoohyeon asked, her brow furrowing. “What problems? Minji, if you don’t like this place we can...” she began, but Minji cut her off.

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s... never mind. Come on, you’re right. It’s cold.”

She forced herself to move, pulling the heavy door open and stepping inside.

The effect was instantaneous. A wave of silence rolled through the bar. 

The bartender froze mid-pour. The card game in the corner stopped. The music, a tinny rock song from the jukebox, suddenly seemed deafeningly loud.

Yoohyeon, who had followed Minji in, stopped dead beside her, her eyes widening in disbelief as she felt the collective stare of at least twenty people.

Minji just closed her eyes for a brief second, a familiar resignation washing over her.

She found a small table in the corner and slid into the booth. Yoohyeon, looking completely bewildered, sat opposite her. Slowly, hesitantly, the noise of the bar returned. A glass clinked. Someone cleared their throat. The card game resumed. But the atmosphere was ruined. They were the center of a flurry of surprised and suspicious whispers.

“I’m sorry,” Minji whispered, staring at the scratches on the tabletop. “This is my fault.”

Yoohyeon didn’t answer right away, just stared at her, speechless for a moment. She was looking at Minji with an unreadable expression. She opened her mouth, as if to ask something but then stopped. Whatever it was, she swallowed it down, her eyes hardening instead into quiet resolve.

“So,” Yoohyeon said, deliberately changing the subject. “That big counter you have to build. The one still in the boxes.”

Minji looked up, surprised and grateful for the change. “What about it?”

“You helped me in the fields the other day. Fair is fair.” Yoohyeon leaned forward, a small, defiant smile playing on her lips. “I’ll come by tomorrow. We’ll build it together. On one condition.”

Minji blinked. “What condition?”

“We come back here,” Yoohyeon said, nodding toward the bar around them. “Tomorrow night. And we'll have another drink. Everyone here better get used to seeing us around.”

Chapter Text

The car wasn’t fast enough.

A hot nail of pain was hammered in behind Bora’s right eye, a throbbing rhythm that pulsed harder with every bump on the road. Her hands ached, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. She’d been crying for days, and now there was nothing left but a dry, sandpaper rasp in her throat. She couldn't get a full breath. The air in the car was too thick, too small, contaminated with the smell of her own fear.

The panic was a living thing. It sat in the passenger seat beside her, its cold hands wrapped around her neck, squeezing with every kilometer that passed.

She risked a glance upward through the windshield. The moon stared back, cold and flawless, wearing its halo like a crown. A ring of light. A perfect, celestial sneer. The cosmos itself was painting a warning across the sky, just for her. Hurry. Or it will be fatal.

As if she didn’t already know. As if she weren’t living it.

For a witch whose entire gift rested on the faint whispers of the future, on the turn of a card or the shape left in a cup of tea, it was a bitter humiliation that the whole universe had to scream at her just so she’d understand there would be no future for her at all. But humiliation was a flavor she’d grown accustomed to these past few months. It was the only thing she ever served.

Her foot was too heavy on the accelerator. She felt the car strain, a high-pitched whine breaking the silence. Home. Home. Home. The word was a prayer, but home was still hours away. An ocean of darkness to cross.

I’m sorry, Minji. I’m sorry, Dong. The apology was a sour taste in her mouth. She shouldn’t have left. Not like that. Not with those words.

Her eyelids were concrete. They slid down.

One second. Just one second of black.

The rumble strip’s vibrations shook her whole body.

Bora screamed, yanking the wheel. The car fishtailed, tires screaming on the gravel shoulder before lurching back onto the asphalt. She stomped on the brake, bringing the car to a shuddering halt in the middle of the empty road.

Silence. The engine ticked. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard it hurt.

She had to stop. But she couldn't. Stopping was death. If she stopped, she would find her. The thought sent a violent tremor through her. She was looking for her. How much of a lead did she have? An hour? Ten minutes? Had she noticed she was gone yet? 

And if she found her… Bora's breath hitched, a strangled sob. She looked at the moon's halo again. The warning. Fatal. No. She couldn't let her catch her. Not again.

A neon sign ahead broke the blackness. MOTEL. VACANCY.

Its yellow light felt like salvation. It was her last chance. Her body was in pain, a dull ache in her bones and a sharp, stinging fire on her face. She couldn't stay conscious. If she didn't stop here, she would crash. She would die on this road.

She stumbled into the office. The clerk, a man with eyes as dead as the moths trapped in the overhead light, took her cash. His gaze lingered for just a second too long on the puffy, split skin of her swollen lip.

He said nothing. He slid the key across the counter.

Room 13. She jammed the deadbolt, her hands shaking, and wedged the cheap wooden chair under the knob. Only then did she let her body give out.

She didn't just lie on the bed, she collapsed onto the stained comforter, curling into a tight, fetal ball. The trembling wouldn't stop. It was deep, rattling her teeth.

Please, please, don't let her find me. Don't let her find me. Please.

The prayer was a silent, frantic loop in her skull. Her fingers fumbled in her bag, searching for the only clean thing she owned. She pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. It smelled faintly of lavender.

The letter Minji had sent days ago. The one she’d read right before she ran.

She opened it. The paper was thick, expensive. In the center, in Minji's precise, elegant script, were only three words.

Chapter Text

Handong walked quickly, the cold night air doing nothing to ease the edge in her nerves. She kept her eyes fixed on the pavement, refusing to look up. She didn't need to. The image of the moon was burned into her retinas: a perfect circle of light.

It's just science, she told herself for the tenth time. 

But her body wasn't listening to her brain. Her senses were painfully alert. 

She pushed open the door to the cafe. It was busy, a low roar of conversation filling the space. She saw Gahyeon behind the counter, looking stressed but smiling as she worked the espresso machine.

“Just a large black coffee, to go,” She said, trying to keep her voice even.

“You got it, Handong. Be just a sec,” Gahyeon called, not looking up.

She waited at the end of the counter, her leg bouncing. The omen. Her mind, trained in triage, began cycling through possibilities, searching for something tangible to pin her fear on. A code at the hospital? A patient she couldn't save? 

No, the fear felt more personal. It felt like home.

Maybe something had happened at Minji’s shop. A fire, an accident? Or maybe it wasn’t the shop itself. Maybe it was Minji.

She shouldn’t have left her alone. Not when she’d been so distracted. And Yoohyeon… The girl seemed kind and steady, but she didn’t really know her. Whatever danger was coming, it didn’t feel like something a stranger could protect them from.

Her thoughts shifted, dark and fast. Bora. A chill ran through her. Her fingers unconsciously drifted to her left palm, rubbing the faint, silvery line of the blood pact scar. 

Someone had been harassing her with phone calls the entire time she was at home. Handong couldn’t get the memory out of her head, Bora’s yelling, her voice cracking with desperation at whoever was on the other end. It had been obvious she was in trouble, the kind that had names and faces.

The deaths of their aunts had come quietly, sudden but peaceful. No omens, no strange signs in the sky. Just loss, sad but natural. Whatever this was, it felt different. Heavier. This was a warning siren. This meant something was wrong.

She pulled her phone from her pocket, her fingers moving fast. She opened her message thread with her sister. Many messages remained unread, and then another one came through.

She stared at the screen, re-reading the words. No reply.

She looked around the café, forcing her breathing to slow. People were chatting, laughing softly, eating pastries before heading home. Families, couples, friends. Ordinary lives built on the illusion of safety. 

Working in the ER had taught her how quickly everything could change. How ordinary lives could shatter in a single moment. One second everything was fine, and the next, the world came apart. A car that didn’t brake in time. A fall on the stairs. A heart that stopped for no reason. Ordinary people who left home expecting to return, and didn’t. It was part of life.

After the storm of her own thoughts, she reached the same conclusion she always did, the same one she told Minji every day to calm her fear of the curse.

People died all the time. They didn’t need curses or mystical warnings from the universe. Death didn’t wait for signs in the sky.

Her heartbeat began to steady, her breath evening out. The logic, the rationality she’d built her life on, started to return. For a brief moment, her mind felt clear again.

A loud, insistent beeping suddenly cut through the noise. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

It was coming from a large, industrial toaster oven on the counter, a single red warning light pulsing with each beep. Handong looked at it, then at Gahyun.

“Gahyun, that machine…”

“Ugh, I know, just ignore it,” Gahyun called, pouring Handong’s coffee. “It’s ancient. The thermostat is shot. It does that all the time. I just need to…”

She placed the cup on the counter, and in that same instant, the top of the toaster oven burst into a column of bright, orange flame.

The cafe erupted. People screamed. Chairs scraped loudly on floor as customers scrambled to their feet, backing away.

Handong’s heart leaped into her throat. It wasn't the fire itself that terrified her. It was Gahyun. She was standing right next to it, her arm inches from the flames as she recoiled in shock.

"Oh, crap," Gahyun yelled, and her first instinct was to grab a wet cloth, to step toward the fire, to try and smother it.

“Gahyun, no!” Handong shouted.

The sight of Gahyun moving toward the danger and the fear of the omen came together in one unbearable point of pressure. Handong didn't think. She reacted.

She threw her hand out.

The fire didn't just go out. It vanished.

It was there, and then, in the span of a single heartbeat, it was gone. As if it had been vacuumed out of existence, leaving only the smell of smoke and burnt metal.

The café was dead silent.

Handong was breathing heavily, her arm still extended, her fist clenched so tightly her nails were digging into her palm. She looked at her hand, horrified.

Gahyeon was frozen, the damp cloth still in her hand. She stared at the blackened machine, and then, finally, at Handong.

Her eyes were wide, not with fear, but with a stunned comprehension. She looked right at Handong and knew.

“Are... are you okay?” Handong whispered, her voice cracking.

Gahyeon could only nod, swallowing hard. She let out a shaky breath. “I… yes,” she whispered back. “Thank you.”

The silence of the crowd broke, replaced by a new sound. Whispering.

“What happened?”

“...it was her. That was the Kim girl.”

Handong saw the looks change. The shock was turning into something else. Something old and familiar. Fear.

Her coffee was still on the counter. She grabbed it. It was scalding hot, but she didn't feel it. She fumbled in her pocket, threw a bill on the counter, and ran.

She pushed through the door, past the small crowd of whispering people, and didn't stop running until the cold night air burned her lungs, the ring around the moon mocking her all the way to the hospital.

Chapter Text

An annoying rectangle of light burned against her eyelids, dragging her back from a heavy, dreamless sleep. Bora’s first conscious thought was pain. Her skull felt dry and tight. A thick pressure throbbed behind her eyes, a reminder that she hadn’t eaten, hadn’t drunk, hadn’t done anything but cry and drive until her body gave out. Her face was worse. Her split lip burned with every shallow breath, and a deep, ugly throb radiated from the bruise at her temple, thick and insistent like someone’s thumb pressed hard against the wound.

She was disoriented. The air smelled wrong. Bleach, stale cigarettes, and something sour.

The motel.

The memory flooded back, cold and disturbing. The drive. The haloed moon. 

She’d made it. She was safe. The night was over, its bad omen spent.

She let out a shaky breath, a small groan escaping her raw throat. Just a few more minutes, she told herself. Just long enough to stop trembling. She brought an arm up to shield her face, grimacing at the morning light. It had to be late. She should check the time, wash her face, and then get back on the road. Home.

She squinted just enough to find the clock.

Her gaze caught on the door instead.

The chair wasn’t there.

The chair she had put under the handle with shaking hands the night before. 

It was in the corner, across the small room, placed to face the bed.

And Seungyeon was sitting in it.

Bora’s breath didn't just catch, her lungs turned to stone. The air in the room was suddenly too thin to breathe, the light from the window too bright, too revealing.

Seungyeon was sitting perfectly still, her legs crossed at the ankle. She was wearing the same dark jeans and leather jacket she’d had on two days ago, and she was watching her. Just... watching. There was no emotion on her face. No anger. No relief. Just the flat, possessive patience of a spider.

And in her hand, held casually, was Bora’s phone.

“You sleep so heavily, baby. It’s almost noon.”

Seungyeon’s voice was soft, melodic. It was the voice she used when she wanted something, the voice that always came before the storm. It slid into the silence of the room, a scalpel wrapped in velvet.

Bora couldn’t move, couldn't speak. She was paralyzed, a rabbit locked in the gaze of a snake. Running away had been a child's fantasy.

“I was just checking this,” Seungyeon continued, her voice still impossibly calm. She lifted Bora’s phone. “I was so worried about you. I kept calling.”

She turned the screen so Bora could see it. A long list of unanswered messages, a one sided monologue.

“See?” Seungyeon murmured, her thumb scrolling slowly. “Call, after call, after call. And you just… ignored me. While I was worried sick. That’s not very nice, Bora.”

With a flick of her wrist, so sudden and casual it made Bora flinch violently, Seungyeon threw the phone.

It hit the wall by the door with a loud crack of plastic and glass. It clattered to the carpet, its screen a dead, shattered spiderweb.

“Now,” Seungyeon said, as if nothing had happened. She stood up. The movement was slow, deliberate. She crossed the small room and sat on the edge of the cheap mattress. Bora recoiled, pressing herself back against the headboard until her spine ached.

Seungyeon’s hand came up. Her thumb brushed the uninjured side of Bora's mouth, a gesture that was almost tender. Bora trembled, a wave of nausea rolling through her.

“Let’s go home,” Seungyeon whispered.

It was the final, devastating blow. The terror was so absolute it broke through the paralysis. A small, broken word tore itself from her throat.

“No.”

Seungyeon’s hand stopped. Her thumb rested on Bora’s cheek, but the gentleness was gone. Her eyes, cold and dark, bored into her. “No?”

The mask of calm finally cracked.

“After everything I do for you?” she hissed, her voice a low, dangerous vibration. “After I’ve given you everything? You think you can just… run? Back to that shitty hick town, that fucking witch house you hate so much?”

“It’s my home,” Bora whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

“I’m your home!” Seungyeon’s hand clamped onto her jaw, her fingers digging in, forcing Bora to look at her. “I need you, Bora. You know that. You know what I’m building. You’re my future. You’re my secret weapon. You don’t get to leave me. You’re mine.”

“I’m not a... a tool,” Bora choked out.

“You’re whatever I say you are,” Seungyeon snarled. She let go, shoving Bora’s face away.

The silence that followed was worse. Seungyeon stood up, pacing the small room, breathing heavily, bringing herself back under control. She looked at the smashed phone on the floor, then at Bora. The anger in her eyes didn't disappear, but it was… covered. A slow, predatory smile spread across her face.

“You know,” she said, her voice dropping back to that soft, velvet purr. She sat on the bed again, this time closer. Bora flinched, but didn't dare move away.

“We’re here. In this lame room. It’s… kind of like old times, isn’t it?” Seungyeon’s hand went to Bora’s hair, twisting a strand. “Before things got so complicated. When it was just you and me having fun.”

She leaned in, her voice a low murmur. “Why don’t we just... enjoy it? We can turn on that crappy TV. Just lie here. Like we used to.”

Her hand slid from Bora’s hair down to her shoulder, her thumb stroking her collarbone. The implication was suffocating. Bora’s entire body was rigid. Every nerve lit like a warning flare, urging her away from the touch she couldn’t bear. But she knew that "no" was not an answer. Saying "no" to this would be worse than the yelling. It would be a rejection Seungyeon wouldn't tolerate.

So she just… nodded. A tiny movement of her chin.

“Good girl,” Seungyeon purred.

The afternoon passed in a blur of disassociated terror. She endured it. She played the part, a doll for Seungyeon to hold, to touch.

Finally, as the light in the room turned a dull, bruised orange and the shadows grew long, Seungyeon’s restlessness returned. The "old times" weren't enough. The calm was an act.

She stood up abruptly, stretching like a cat. “Ugh. I’m bored. I need a drink.” She grabbed the room key. “Come on.”

Bora, still curled on the bed, shook her head. Her voice was a bare whisper. “I don't… I don't want to go anywhere.”

Seungyeon stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “Fine. More for me. I just hope there’s a bar somewhere near this dump.”

She turned as if to leave, then looked back, eyes narrowing just enough for the smile to feel wrong. “I’ll be back soon. You’ll wait for me… right?” The question sounded like a plea, but something in her voice left no room for refusal. “Don’t disappear again. I can’t handle losing you. And you know how I get when I can’t handle things.”

She stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door shut. Bora listened, her breath held, her heart pounding. She heard the rattle of the key in the lock.

She was locked in.

Bora didn’t move for a full minute, her mind screaming. She scrambled off the bed, her legs shaking, and ran to the door, yanking on the handle. It was solid. Locked. She was a prisoner.

She backed away, her eyes darting around the room. The broken phone. The window, which only opened a few inches. And then she saw it.

On the bedside table, an ancient, beige plastic motel phone. A landline.

She lunged for it, her hands slick with sweat. She pressed the receiver to her ear, listening to the blessed, beautiful sound of the dial tone.

She didn't know anyone's number. Her memory was a fog of panic. Think, Bora, think! She’d never had to memorize a number. They were all in her phone, which was now in pieces on the floor.

Wait.

One number. The one number that had been drilled into her since childhood. The one number she’d been taught to use in an emergency, before cell phones. The number that had never changed.

Home.

Chapter Text

Minji burst out laughing, a real, full-bodied laugh that felt foreign in her own chest. She pushed herself up from the floor, stretching her arms above her head as her back popped in protest.

“Oh my god, that was intense,” she said, looking at the newly assembled counter. “I can’t believe we finished it. Halfway through, I started to seriously regret not paying someone to do this.”

Yoohyeon was stretching too, a look of deep satisfaction on her face. “It was only four hours. For one… simple… little unit.” She let out a groan as she twisted. “And why pay someone when you have me, completely free of charge?”

“Ugh, it’s already dark,” Yoohyeon said, rubbing her lower back as she peered out the shop window. “Seriously, that flew by. This is way more fun than my fields, though my back hurts about the same.” She laughed.

“I have a cream for that,” Minji said immediately, the words tumbling out. “For muscle fatigue. It helps with the pain.” It was the main complaint Yoohyeon always had, and Minji had been trying to perfect that specific salve for months. Her newest version, the one she was saving for the opening, was her best yet.

“I only have a sample size here, but… here. An exclusive preview.” She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a tiny, unlabeled tin. Yoohyeon took it, treating the small offering with a reverence that made Minji’s heart ache.

They locked up the shop, the rattle of the keys echoing in the quiet street. When Minji turned, she saw it. For the first time that night, she saw the moon.

Yoohyeon noticed it too, but only because Minji had stopped dead on the sidewalk, her face drained of all color.

“Wow,” Yoohyeon breathed, tilting her head back. “That is… weird. Looks like something out of a movie.”

It was no longer a ring of light. The moon itself was swollen, hanging low in the sky, and it was stained with an unnatural rusty red. As if it were weeping blood.

Minji’s pulse didn't just accelerate; it hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird in a cage. This was bad. If last night’s halo was a warning, this blood moon was a sentence.

“Can you give me one second?” Her voice was thin. She turned away from Yoohyeon, fumbling for her phone. She dialed Handong. It rang. Once. Twice.

Pick up, pick up, pick up.

“Where are you?” Minji demanded the second the call connected.

“What? Where do you think? I’m at the hospital.” Handong sounded tired and annoyed.

“Have you seen the moon?”

“...No? I’ve been in here for hours. I told you, I'm on double shifts all week…”

“Look at the moon.”

“Uh, I really don't have time for this right now…”

“Find a window and look at the moon.”

Minji heard the clatter of the phone, muffled sounds, and then Handong’s sharp, terrified intake of breath. “What the hell? Okay, just... calm down. It looked bad last night too, and nothing happened.”

“I’m going home to create a barrier. I'll wait for you.”

“Minji, I’m working. I can't just leave. I'm already covering someone. If I walk out now, there’s no nurse in the ER for the rest of the night.”

“Fine.” Minji’s voice was tight. “Fine. But please, be careful.”

“I’ll be fine. Besides,” Handong tried for a light tone and failed, “if something happens to me, I’m in the best possible place, right?”

“That’s not funny. Don’t jinx it even more.”

“I have to go. I’ll be fine. Go to bed, and tomorrow will be another day. Kiss.”

“Bye.”

Minji hung up. She looked at Yoohyeon, who was watching her with open concern. “Just… one more moment. Please.”

She dialed Bora’s number. It went straight to a cold, robotic voicemail. The number you have dialed is not in service.

Her phone was off. It wasn’t unusual. Bora was always on the road, losing signal, her battery dying. But tonight? Of all nights?

A cold wave of dread rolled over her.

“We, uh, we should go?” Yoohyeon asked, her voice gentle, pulling Minji back.

“Mmm… what if we did one last thing first?” The words came out in a rush. She needed to protect both of them but she couldn't tell Yoohyeon to come home with her. It would look like... something else. Something she wasn't ready for. The only other option was to make a protection, right here, right now. Something portable.

“What do you think about… making friendship bracelets?”

Yoohyeon’s face was a mask of pure confusion. And then she laughed. “Okay. Sure. Why not?”

Minji fumbled with the keys, her hands sweaty, and unlocked the shop again. They went to the messy back room. She began pulling things: colored embroidery floss, a small leather cord. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would have to do. Her aunts always said her magic was delicate, but powerful. Protection was her specialty. Spells, barriers, blessings... and curses. They were simple for her. She would build an amulet.

She started braiding the threads, and then wove in some dried, protective yarrow. Yoohyeon watched, her head tilted, curious.

“Okay, now I need you to turn around. I’m adding the secret ingredient.”

“As if I knew what the other ingredients were,” Yoohyeon joked, but she dutifully turned her back.

Minji’s hands moved fast. She plucked a single, long, dark hair from her own head and, with practiced fingers, wove it into the braid, twisting it until it became invisible. A binding. A connection.

“Done.”

She lit a small bundle of sage, wafting the smoke over the two bracelets. Then she grabbed a small box filled with charms. “Pick one for you, and one for me.”

Yoohyeon studied the box. “Mmm… this one.” She picked up a tiny, perfect clover encased in green resin. “And for you… this beautiful sun.”

She quickly attached the charms, then took Yoohyeon’s wrist. She tied the bracelet on with a secure knot, her hands lingering over it for a second, her eyes closed, whispering a single, silent word.

“There.”

“Cool.” Yoohyeon held up her wrist, admiring it.

“Was that… weird?” Minji asked, her voice small.

“Huh? No. What’s it for?”

“It’ll protect you. As long as you wear it.” Minji tied the matching one onto her own wrist. “It’ll fall off eventually, but… I can make you another one then. If you want.”

“Of course.” Yoohyeon grinned, bumping her braceleted wrist against Minji’s. “Yay. Friendship bracelets. It's the first time anyone's ever given me one. Thanks.”

Minji smiled, the tension easing, just a fraction. “You’re welcome. Now. We can go to that stupid bar.”

“Minji,” Yoohyeon said, her voice serious again. “It’s not a punishment. If you don't want to go, we can do something else. Seriously.”

Minji looked at her, at this kind, wonderful person. 

“No,” Minji said, her resolve hardening. “You’re right. I live here. I have every right to go out and have a quiet glass of wine, just like anyone else in this town. If I hide in my house, I’m just doing what they've always wanted me to do.”

“That’s the spirit!”

They locked the shop again. This time, Minji forced herself to walk, to ignore the angry red eye of the moon staring down at her. Yoohyeon was talking, telling her about some funny video on a social media app Minji didn't have.

“No, you don't get it, he has this little hat…” Yoohyeon was looking down at her phone, trying to find it as they walked. The sidewalk was uneven and dark, almost unlit except for a couple of distant streetlights..

She was so focused on the screen that she didn't see the broken piece of pavement.

Her foot caught. She stumbled, pitching forward, off the curb and directly into the road.

Minji saw it happen in a slow, unreal flash. The lurch of Yoohyeon’s body. The sudden, blinding glare of headlights. A car, moving too fast.

“Yoohyeon!”

Minji lunged, grabbing a fistful of Yoohyeon’s jacket. She yanked her back, hard, but not all the way. The car’s tires shrieked, a terrifying, inhuman sound. Yoohyeon was hit. It wasn't a full impact; the car had mostly stopped, but the bumper caught her hip, spinning her around. Minji’s grip was the only thing that kept her from falling under the wheels.

The car stopped. Yoohyeon was on her feet, leaning heavily against Minji, her face paper-white with shock.

“Oh my god,” Minji gasped, her arms locked around Yoohyeon. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I… I think so,” Yoohyeon whispered, her voice trembling. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

A car door slammed. The driver, a man from town Minji vaguely recognized, ran toward them. “Hey! Are you alright? I didn't see you! You just came out of nowhere!”

“Yes, I'm fine. It was my fault,” Yoohyeon said, pushing herself upright. “I tripped. I’m so sorry.”

“You sure? You want me to take you to the hospital?”

“No, I’m okay, really. It was just a knock.”

The man's gaze shifted from Yoohyeon to Minji. His expression soured, hardening from concern into a familiar, cold suspicion. He looked at Minji as if she were a piece of trash.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked Yoohyeon again, but he was looking at Minji. Accusing her.

Minji understood. He thought she’d pushed her. He thought she’d done this.

And in her heart, in the cold and sick place where her fear of the curse lived, she knew he was right. It wasn't a trip. It wasn't an accident. It was the curse. Just like the last time.

The driver was still talking, but Minji couldn't hear him. The roaring in her ears was too loud. It was the sound of her own past, rising up to choke her. She was lost in the memory, in the sound of different tires, a different scream, a different body hitting the pavement.

“It’s my fault… She… She is… I did it…I did this…”

She felt Yoohyeon’s hand on her arm, shaking her. “Minji? Minji, he’s gone. It’s okay.”

Yoohyeon’s voice was coming from a great distance. Minji saw her friend’s worried face, saw the red moon reflected in her eyes, and she felt the walls of her carefully constructed sanity crack. She was hyperventilating, her body consumed by a terror that was ten years old.

She took a step back, pulling her arm from Yoohyeon’s grasp.

“He was right,” Minji whispered, the words tearing her throat. “This is a mistake.”

She turned and ran, leaving Yoohyeon standing alone in the dark street, under the light of the bleeding moon.

Chapter Text

The front door slammed shut. Minji leaned against the wood, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her whole body was shaking, her lungs burning from the cold air and the desperate run home.

Her house was silent. The silence was a void, and her own chaotic thoughts rushed in to fill it.

He was right. 

The driver's accusing stare. Yoohyeon's pale, shocked face. The sound of the car hitting her.

She had been a fool. A selfish, arrogant fool. She had convinced herself that her magic, her stupid little bracelets, could protect Yoohyeon. She’d believed that by keeping Yoohyeon close, she could defy the omen.

The realization hit her hard. She wasn't protecting Yoohyeon from the danger. She was the danger. The curse lived in her, and she had brought its focus directly onto the one person she...

She couldn't even finish the thought. To acknowledge it, to give that love a name in her mind, would be deadlier than the car that had hit Yoohyeon tonight.

Minji stumbled into the living room, her legs weak. She looked out the window at the sky. The moon hung there, a hateful, bleeding eye, mocking her. She felt a surge of pure, desperate rage at it. She wanted to scream. What do you want? What is it? Just tell me who is in danger!

But the moon only stared, bathing the room in a sick, reddish light.

Her first instinct was to build a barrier. To seal the house. But the thought died as soon as it formed. Protect who? Handong was at the hospital dismissing the warnings. Yoohyeon was out there and the only person she needed protection from was Minji herself.

And Bora… Bora was gone.

She was alone. There was no one left to protect.

She thought of Handong’s words. Go to bed, and tomorrow will be another day.

Her body ached. The adrenaline from the accident was fading, leaving behind a bone-deep, crushing exhaustion. Maybe Handong was right. Maybe she just needed to sleep. To let the night pass.

She dragged herself upstairs and fell onto her bed, not even bothering to pull back the covers. But sleep wouldn't come. She couldn't stop seeing Yoohyeon's foot slipping, couldn't stop hearing the shriek of the tires. Her mind was a frantic spiral, replaying the night, replaying the past, the two events bleeding together until she couldn't tell one from the other. Her entire body was anxious, every nerve ending live and raw.

And then, suddenly, it stopped.

The frantic, chaotic torrent of self-hatred, the images of Yoohyeon, the memory of the accident, the fear of the curse… it all vanished. The spinning blades of her anxiety slowed and clicked into place, focusing on a single, terrifying point of clarity.

One name.

Bora.

It wasn't a thought. It was a summons. It was the feeling of a rope, tied to her gut, being violently yanked.

She sat bolt upright in the dark. The house was silent but the silence was different now. It was waiting.

Her feet hit the cold floor, moving on their own accord. She was walking, her instinct guiding her down the stairs. Her steps silent, moving through the blood-red moonlight that stained the hallway floor. She didn't turn on a light. She walked directly into the kitchen.

She stopped in front of the old wall-mounted phone. A landline. A relic from a time before they'd all had their own numbers. She hadn't used it in years. She had no idea if it even worked.

She just… stared at it.

The silence in the house was so absolute it was ringing in her ears.

And then the phone rang.

The mechanical ring ripped through the silence, making Minji cry out, her heart stopping in her chest.

It rang again.

She knew. With a cold, sick certainty, she knew.

The fear evaporated, replaced by a razor-sharp focus. She didn't hesitate. She snatched the receiver from its cradle and pressed the cold plastic to her ear.

“Hello?” Her voice was a bare whisper.

A sound came from the other end. Static. And then a choked, terrified sob that was so familiar it stole her breath.

“Minji?”

Bora. It was Bora. She was crying, her voice thin and broken.

“Minji, please… I… I messed up. She… she …she found me. Minji, she locked me in…”

The voice was breaking up, dissolving into panic and static, but Minji heard enough. The chaos in her chest gave way to a calm certainty. Bora needed her, and she knew what she had to do. She would not fail her.

“Bora.” Minji’s voice was suddenly clear, cutting through the line. “Bora, listen to me. Where are you? Tell me where you are.”

“I don’t know… a motel… I tried to come home, Minji. I was coming back, but…”

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Minji said, her eyes fixed on the red moon outside the kitchen window. “I am coming to get you. Just hold on.”

Chapter Text

She was alone. Minji’s running footsteps had faded into silence, leaving Yoohyeon standing in the middle of the dark and cold street.

Her body was still in shock. Her mind couldn't catch up. What just happened?

She replayed the last thirty seconds. The stumble. The blinding white light. Minji’s scream. And then… Minji’s face.

That's what stuck with her, what was looping in her mind. The look in Minji's eyes. It wasn't just fear. It was a kind of hollow terror Yoohyeon had never seen in another human being. She had been hyperventilating, her eyes wide and unfocused, as if she was seeing something else entirely. 

“It’s my fault.”

“This is a mistake.”

Yoohyeon tried to make sense of Minji’s words. 

Whose fault? Minji's? How could it be?

What was a mistake? Having a drink with her? Being her friend?

Yoohyeon’s heart ached. She rubbed at her chest absently, fingers pressing through the fabric as if she could ease the tight, restless feeling there. She couldn’t. 

I like her so much. 

From the moment Minji had awkwardly tried to buy from her at the market, Yoohyeon had been drawn to her. She loved her quiet intensity, her uniqueness, the way a sudden laugh would escape her when she thought something was funny, the way her entire face lit up when she talked about the things she loved. This entire time, Yoohyeon had been trying to gently, patiently, pull Minji out of what she thought was just a very deep shell.

She thought it had been working. Tonight, Minji had laughed. She had agreed to go to the bar. She had been so brave, facing down the stares.

Yoohyeon’s thoughts clicked into place. The stares. The way the entire bar had gone silent last night. The driver tonight, his voice shifting instantly from concerned citizen to cold accuser the moment he recognized Minji.

“You sure you’re okay?”

He hadn't been asking about the accident. He’d been asking if she was safe. Safe from Minji.

A car full of teenagers sped past, honking, and the blast of noise finally broke her trance. She realized this was a pattern. Minji wasn't just shy or uncomfortable around people like she had thought until now. She was an outcast. She was hated by everyone in this town and Minji knew it. She was used to it. And Yoohyeon, wrapped up in her own little bubble, had been completely oblivious about it. God, I’m such an idiot.

And then, the worry truly hit. Not for herself, but for Minji. She had just had a full-blown panic attack, a real one, and Yoohyeon had just... let her run off. Alone. Into the dark, under that terrifying red moon. I’m fine, she thought, but Minji looked like she was breaking.

She took a step to follow, to go after her, and a white-hot spike of pain shot from her hip down to her knee. The adrenaline evaporated. The cold blanket of shock was gone, replaced by a radiating ache.

She hissed, leaning against a nearby wall. She lifted the waistband of her jeans, pulling the denim away from her skin. She could see that a massive red bruise was already blossoming across her hip and side.

She wasn't just "knocked." She was hurt.

Her truck was two blocks away. The walk was agonizing. By the time she pulled herself into the driver’s seat, the pain had her shaking, breath coming short and shallow.

The emergency room was nearly empty. It was a relief, really. They had her in a small curtained cubicle within minutes.

"Okay, let's see what we're looking at," a voice said, pulling the curtain back.

Yoohyeon looked up, and her jaw dropped. "Handong?"

Handong, wearing blue scrubs and an exhausted expression, stopped dead. "Yoohyeon? What the hell happened to you?"

"I... I was with Minji," Yoohyeon started, her voice sounding shaky even to her own ears. "We were walking to the bar to get a drink...I, uh... I tripped. And a car…"

"A car?" Handong's professionalism snapped into place. She was at Yoohyeon's side instantly, her hands gentle but firm as she examined her hip. "A car hit you? Where's Minji? Is she in the waiting room?"

"No... she's not here," Yoohyeon said, her voice small. She felt a flush of humiliation. "I drove myself. It... it took me a while. My leg kept spasming."

Handong’s head snapped up, her expression hardening. "She... she left you? After you were hit by a car?"

"No! Not like that," Yoohyeon rushed to explain, defending Minji before she even realized she was doing it. "It wasn't her fault. It was mine. I was looking at my phone, I tripped right into the road. The car barely even hit me, it just… grazed me. But Minji… she just… freaked out and then she... ran."

Yoohyeon was expecting Handong to be angry, to curse her sister. Instead, she watched as a wave of emotions she couldn't decipher washed over her face. The surprise, the anger... it all just evaporated, replaced by something that looked like a deep and sudden understanding.

Handong closed her eyes for a second. She let out a long, slow breath.

"A car," she whispered, so quietly Yoohyeon almost didn't hear it. "Of course. Of course, it had to be a car."

"What do you mean?" Yoohyeon asked. "Handong, she looked... she wasn't just scared. She was terrified. She kept saying it was her fault. I don't understand."

Handong pulled a small stool over and sat down. Yoohyeon watched her, suddenly aware that this was a minefield. She wanted to know what could possibly wound Minji so badly, but she could see the pain in Handong's face too. 

"It's... it's not my story to tell," Handong said. "It’s hers. If she wants to... she will." She focused on Yoohyeon again, her voice kind, but heavy. "But Minji... she has a history with an accident. A long time ago. Something... something really bad. What happened tonight... with you and the car... It probably just... it brought it all back up for her."

Yoohyeon just breathed. "Oh." She thought of Minji's panic, her flight. It wasn't a rejection. It was a reaction. 

"The fact that she was even out there with you," Handong continued, "going to a bar, walking down the street at night... that is a huge step for her. She hasn't been 'out' in this town for years. She just... she hides. In the house. In her shop. Where it's safe."

"Because of... what people think?" Yoohyeon asked, remembering the driver's face.

"Partly," Handong admitted, her voice bitter. "But I think the main reason... she's just terrified of the same thing happening again. What you saw tonight, her running away? That wasn't about you, Yoohyeon. That was her trauma, her history, whatever you want to call it, pulling her right back under. It... it won, for a minute."

Yoohyeon felt a surge of empathy so strong it almost hurt. She wanted to go to Minji right now, to tell her she was fine, that it wasn't her fault. But she knew, looking at Handong, that it wasn't that simple. Minji's walls were higher than she'd ever imagined, and they were there for a reason. She would have to be patient.

"She's been so much better, you know," Handong said, her voice soft. "This last year or two. Since she started planning the shop. Since... well, since you've been around. She's been lighter. More herself. Don't let this... this panic attack... make you think otherwise."

"I... I was just worried about her," Yoohyeon said. "I'm fine. She's the one who looked like she was really hurt."

Handong looked at her, really looked at her, and her expression softened even more. "Yeah. I get it. Thank you for caring so much for her."

Yoohyeon felt her cheeks warm. She lowered her gaze, a little embarrassed, and nodded in reply.

The nurse stood up, her professional mask sliding back into place. "Okay, let's stop talking. This is a massive hematoma. It’s going to be spectacularly purple tomorrow. I'm sure the doctor will send you for an x-ray, just to be sure nothing's cracked. He’ll come by in a moment. Can you sit tight?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Yoohyeon said with a weak laugh.

Handong smiled. "I'll be right back."

Chapter Text

Minji drove. She didn’t just drive; she pushed the car as hard as it would go, the engine groaning in protest as the needle climbed past 120.

Bora’s voice replayed in her head, fractured and shaking. “…she found me. She locked me in…”

The night itself felt wrong. The blood moon hung low in the sky, heavy and watchful, as if it were pointing the way, urging her to go faster.

The panic that had made her turn away from Yoohyeon felt distant now. That had been fear of consequences, of a curse, of something abstract and looming.
This was different.
This wasn’t a future she feared.
This was a present she had to stop.

This was Bora.

The suffocating doubt evaporated. It burned away. It was reforged into a cold, hard, and clean resolve. This was her original self. Nobody was going to hurt her sister. Her magic wasn't a curse tonight. It was a key. It was a weapon. And she would use it.

She was retracing the route Bora would have taken, scanning the dark highway for the sign her sister had described. And then she saw it, a flickering neon "MOTEL".

Minji spun the wheel. The car jolted as she hit the brakes, coming to a hard stop in the empty lot. She saw it instantly. Bora's red car was three spots down, parked badly.

She was in the right place.

She didn't run to the office. She didn't need to. As she got out of her car, she felt the pull. The scar on the palm of her hand began to itch, the one Bora had given her years ago. It was a low, familiar thrum that told her she was close. She followed the feeling, past the silent doors. Room 11. Room 12. The itch was stronger. Room 13.

She reached the door and slammed her fist on the wood. "Bora! I'm here!"

She grabbed the knob and twisted. Locked. Solid.

"Bora?" She pressed her ear to the cheap wood. Silence. 

A new, colder fear hit her. Am I too late? What if that person Bora was so afraid of had come back and taken her? What if she was gone? "No..."

But then, the pact scar on her hand didn't just itch; it burned. A sharp, undeniable pull from inside the room. She's here. She has to be.

Minji pressed her palm flat against the cold metal of the lock. A physical barrier. She closed her eyes. A lock was just a thing separating her from her sister. Her magic, at its core, was protection. She didn’t just build walls, she could tear them down. She focused on the feeling, on Bora on the other side, and pushed her will into the mechanism.

There was a metallic CLICK. The door popped open.

The room was dark, for a second, she didn't see her. Then, a small shape on the floor by the bedside table.

Bora. She was huddled on the carpet, the phone still clutched in her hand. She looked asleep, unconscious, or…

Minji rushed to her, kneeling. "Bora! Bora, wake up! I’m here."

She touched Bora's shoulder. Bora screamed, a thin, terrified sound, and threw her hands up to protect her face, cowering away from Minji's touch.

"No, no..."

"Hey!" Minji's voice softened instantly, all the hardness gone, replaced by the one she used when they were children and woke from nightmares. "Shh, it's me. It's me, Bora. It's just Minji. You're safe. I'm here."

Bora lowered her arms, her eyes unfocused, her face a mess of tears and bruised skin, her lip split and swollen. "Minji?"

"It's me." Minji grabbed her arms, her voice shifting, becoming firm again. Not cold, but commanding. "I'm getting you out of here. We are leaving. Now. Get up."

She hauled Bora to her feet. Her sister's body was trembling so violently she could barely stand. Minji grabbed Bora's bag from the floor and shoved her sister's arm through the strap, practically carrying her out onto the concrete walkway.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Bora was sobbing, stumbling beside her as Minji pulled her toward the car lot. "I tried to get home... She always finds me. She's going to kill me, Minji..."

"She won't. I'm here," Minji said, her voice a low growl.

"You don’t know her…"

They were in the open, running across the parking lot, almost at Minji's car. Almost safe.

And then Bora stopped so abruptly she almost fell.

"What?" Minji hissed. "Bora, get in the car!"

Bora wasn't looking at her. She was staring up at the sky, seeing the blood moon for the first time. Her face, already pale, turned to ash.

"No," Bora whispered, her voice rattling. "No, no, no, the moon. Seungyeon is going to kill us." Her hands flew to her neck, fumbling for an amulet that wasn't there.

"We have to go!"

"My amulet," Bora choked out, her eyes wild and full of fear. "My Tiger's Eye. The aunts gave it to me, it will protect us. Wait. It's in my car, on the mirror. Minji, I need it. She will come after me again. I can't leave without it!"

She sprinted for it. Minji screamed her name, running right behind her.

Bora, desperate, grabbed the handle of the driver's door and yanked it open. It was unlocked.

A warning bell screamed in Minji's head, but it was too late.

She lunged inside, her fingers stretching for the small, dark stone hanging from the rearview mirror.

A hand shot out from the backseat darkness, seizing her by the hair.

With a brutal, single motion, it dragged her, screaming, over the center console and into the back.

"Leaving so soon, baby?"

Minji got to the open door just as Bora was pulled from sight.

"Bora!"

"You really thought you could just... abandon me?" a voice slurred from the darkness.

Seungyeon was in the back, her body sprawled across the seat, a half-empty bottle of rum sitting next to her. She had been drinking there, waiting.

"You thought you could just leave me in this shithole and run away?" she was yelling in Bora’s ear, laughing as she held her down. "Why do you always run!"

"Get off my sister!" Minji screamed, lunging for the back door.

"Ah-ah-ah." Seungyeon's voice was suddenly low and calm.

Minji froze. Seungyeon had moved just enough to show her what she was holding in her hand, the one that wasn’t pulling Bora’s hair. It was a gun. Pressed hard into Bora’s stomach.

Bora whimpered, her body rigid.

"You move, I shoot her. She moves, I shoot her." Seungyeon smiled, her eyes glittering in the red moonlight, her face a mask of possessive rage. "It's so sweet. The big sister, coming to the rescue."

She jerked her head toward the driver's seat.

"Now, be a good girl. Get in. You're driving."

Chapter Text

The antiseptic smell of the hospital was starting to burn Yoohyeon’s nose. Handong stood beside her with a clipboard, checking the discharge paperwork in silence.

“Okay,” she said, handing it over. “The doctor’s reviewed your x-rays. No fractures, which is the good news.” Her gaze softened as she looked back at Yoohyeon. “But you’ve got a really nasty deep-tissue hematoma. Probably one of the worst I’ve seen. You’re going to be sore and stiff for a while.”

She tapped one section of the form with her pen. “They’ve prescribed a muscle relaxant and painkillers. Take them exactly as directed, and don’t push yourself. If the pain gets worse or you notice any numbness, you come straight back in, okay?”

“Thanks, Handong. Really.” Yoohyeon took the papers, her mind already on the agonizing drive home.

Handong must have seen the look on her face. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home? My truck is in the parking lot.”

Handong crossed her arms, shifting instantly from friend to nurse. “Absolutely not. Your farm is what, twenty minutes from here? On dark roads? You can’t drive with a leg that injured.”

Yoohyeon sighed, looking at her hands. “Handong, it’s… what time is it?”

“Almost 2 AM.”

“Right. It’s 2 AM. It’s not like I have a long list of people I can call for a ride right now.”

“A friend?”

Yoohyeon hesitated. There was… one person. She pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over a name in her contacts: 

Yubin 🎮

“I might know someone,” Yoohyeon said. “She’s… a bit of a night owl.”

She pressed the call button. It only rang once.

“Yo!” Yubin’s voice was wide awake and clear. “You finally ready for that raid? I’m at the final checkpoint, but I can wait. I’m just working on a build at the shop.”

“Hey, uh, not exactly.” Yoohyeon felt a wave of embarrassment. “I’m… I’m at the hospital.”

The easygoing tone in Yubin’s voice vanished, replaced by concern. “What? Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I just… I had a stupid accident. I tripped and kind of… met a car. I’m totally fine, but the nurse here won’t let me drive, and my truck is in the ER parking lot…”

“Don’t move. I’ll be there in five.” The line clicked dead.

Yoohyeon looked at her phone, a small, grateful smile on her face. “My friend is coming. She’s... she works late.”

Handong nodded, leaning against the counter. The two women sat in an awkward, but not unkind, silence.

Chapter Text

Minji had no idea where she was driving anymore. The road ahead was just a smear of headlights and darkness, the lines blurring at the edges. It was a two-lane highway that cut through the forest. Her grip on the steering wheel tense, her foot painfully steady on the accelerator. The only thing keeping the car moving was the terror sitting low in her stomach and the certainty that stopping would be worse.

In the backseat, Seungyeon hummed off-key, leaning too close to Bora.

Minji kept her eyes on the road as her thoughts spun, ruthless and fast. Brake hard. Send her forward. No. The gun would go off.
Swerve. Slam the door. Too slow.
Reach back. Grab her wrist. Bora would be hit before she could finish the thought.

She scanned the road, desperate for something solid. A gas station. A hospital. A police station. If she could just pull up right in front of one…
No. Seungyeon wouldn’t hesitate. She’d pull the trigger the second Minji tried anything.

Every path ended the same way. With a shot.

Seungyeon was drunk, but not drunk enough. Her movements were loose, almost lazy, but her grip on the gun was steady. It never left Bora.

After what felt like an hour, Bora finally spoke. She kept her voice steady. Soft. Almost gentle. 

“Seungyeon,” she murmured, “baby, this is silly. Why are we doing this? This is our problem, you and me. Minji has nothing to do with this. She's just scared. Look at her.”

Minji’s grip tightened on the wheel. 

“Just... let her go,” Bora pleaded. “Let her out on the side of the road. She won't say anything. Then it can be just us again.”

Seungyeon laughed, the sound wet and ugly. “Let her go? Why? We’re practically family now!” She took a long drink from the rum bottle. “We’re just having a good time, aren't we? A little family road trip. 

Her fingers brushed Bora’s knee. Minji saw the way her sister tensed, just a tremor, quickly smoothed over with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Sure,” Bora whispered. “Fun sounds… perfect.”

Minji’s eyes darted to every shadow on the road, every sign, every possible turn she could take. She needed an escape. A moment. A mistake on Seungyeon’s part. Anything.

But Seungyeon wasn’t giving her one.

She leaned back, still watching Bora with an aching kind of devotion that made Minji’s skin crawl. Not because it was fake, but because it was real.

“You always make things so hard, Bora,” Seungyeon sighed, her voice shifting, adopting the self-pitying tone of a misunderstood victim. “You’re a horrible girlfriend. You know that? Just awful.”

Bora said nothing.

“And I kiss the ground you walk on,” Seungyeon continued, her voice thick with emotion. “I give you everything. A home. Money. I keep you safe. I give you whatever you ask for, like an idiot. And you... you just want to abandon me. After I loved you so much.”

“I know, love, I know, I’m sorry…” Bora whispered.

“No, you’re not” Seungyeon’s voice didn’t rise, but it cracked. “You were going to leave again. I knew it. That’s why I was waiting out there in the car. It was a test. To see if you’d stay in that room and wait for me, like you were supposed to. But you failed. You keep failing me again and again.”

Seungyeon’s hand fumbled in her pocket. She pulled out a lighter. Minji watched in the rearview mirror as Seungyeon began to play with the large, silver skull ring on her middle finger. She flicked the lighter, holding the blue flame to the heavy metal.

The tiny flame illuminated her face in warm gold and sinister shadow.

Bora’s breath hitched.

Minji’s chest tightened.

Seungyeon held the ring above the flame, heating the skull patiently, lovingly.

Neither sister spoke.

“You know,” Seungyeon said after a moment, still focused on the ring, “in my business it’s very important that customers always know what they’re getting. That they can see my mark on everything.” She tilted her head, smiling faintly. “So if you’re so set on leaving, baby… I guess I’ll have to do the same to you. Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

She reached for Bora’s thigh. “So they know who you belong to.”

Bora screamed and tried to twist away, kicking her legs. She was desperate to get away from the burning metal hovering inches from her skin. “No! Seungyeon, stop! Please!”

Minji reacted without thinking. While keeping one hand on the wheel, she turned, her body twisting, and grabbed for Seungyeon’s arm. “Get off her!”

The car swerved violently.

“Eyes on the road, you crazy bitch!” Seungyeon shouted, shoving Minji’s shoulder hard enough to jolt her forward. “Do you want to kill us?” Seungyeon roared, genuine panic in her voice. She released Bora, grabbing the back of the seat to brace herself. 

“Fucking hell, Babe, at least you could have seen that coming.”

Minji’s blood ran cold. Did she get that right? Something in her face gave away what she was thinking because Seungyeon laught.

“Oh yes, I know about her little gift. We don’t have secrets. Well. Back when she loved me, anyway.” Seungyeon continued, “Seeing the future... it's so helpful. It’s what keeps my enemies from slitting my throat.”

A new thought seemed to strike her. She leaned forward, her face close to Minji's headrest. “Wait. You're a witch too, right? What do you do? Do you see the future? Huh. Maybe I should trade up. Bora’s an ungrateful girlfriend. You’d probably be a better one.”

She shoved the rum bottle between the seats. “Here. Drink.”

“I’m driving,” Minji said, her voice a low tremor.

Seungyeon snorted. “Scared to drive a little drunk?”

She shoved the bottle against Minji’s shoulder. Minji took it just to stop the pressure, knuckles white around the glass.

Then something shifted.

The world dissolved. Everything blurred, the red moonlight and the dashboard lights softened at the edges like wet paint. It was magic. She saw Bora’s face in the mirror, but it wasn't a reflection. It was a vision. Bora was looking right at her, her mouth moving, but the sound was inside Minji’s head.

'My bag. The little dark bottle. Belladonna.'

Minji blinked. The vision was gone.

Seungyeon was back on Bora, kissing her neck, her anger forgotten. “Just kidding, baby. You’re my queen. I only have eyes for you. You know that.”

Minji used the moment. She swallowed hard, slid the bottle between her legs to hold it steady, and reached for Bora’s bag on the copilote seat with a shaking hand. Her fingers dived inside until she felt the cool glass of the vial.

She pulled the cork free and tipped the gray dust into the rum. She emptied it fast, the motion hidden by the seat. Her pulse jumped.

Bora noticed she was done and pushed Seungyeon off. “Stop, you're tickling me.”

Seungyeon laughed, grabbing the bottle from Minji. “My turn.”

She drank. She drank deep.

She pulled the bottle away with a satisfied sigh, oblivious to the poison she'd just swallowed. “Are we having fun yet? Oh, I know! Are we close to your town? Maybe we should go find that other sister. The little nurse, she has to be hot.”

Minji felt her stomach drop.

“If we’re having a family night, let’s do it right.” She tapped Bora’s nose. “I want to meet everyone. The three of you can show me all your magic tricks.”

“We are close, just some minutes away.”

“Cool, keep going then.”

Seungyeon leaned on Bora again, draping herself over her. The alcohol was clearly taking hold; her movements were looser, heavier. Thankfully, she seemed to have forgotten about the gun in her lap, her focus narrowing entirely to the bottle in her hand which was now almost empty.

She started humming again, louder this time.

“Hey, baby,” she slurred, nuzzling Bora’s shoulder. “Put on our song. Please. I really want to hear it.”

“I can’t, Seungyeon,” Bora said gently. “Remember? My phone broke.”

“Oops. That’s right,” Seungyeon giggled. “Sorry, sweetie. My bad. I’ll put it on mine, then.”

She fumbled with her pocket. A moment later, the opening chords of Elvis Presley’s Always On My Mind filled the small, tense space.

Seungyeon looked at Minji in the rearview mirror. “Do you like this, Minji?”

Minji kept her eyes on the road. “Um, I’ve heard it. It’s not really my style, honestly.”

“Oh, come on,” Seungyeon scoffed. “It’s Elvis. Have some taste.”

She grabbed Bora’s hand, lifting it to her lips to kiss her knuckles tenderly as she began to sing along. Her voice was wavering, emotional.

“This is the first song we danced to,” Seungyeon murmured between lyrics. “Whenever you make me angry, I listen to this. It reminds me why I love you so much.”

Bora swallowed hard. “That’s very sweet, love.”

Seungyeon sang the rest of the song, pouring her drunken heart into every word. When the track finished, the car went back into silence. 

The endless dark of the trees on either side felt like a tunnel.

Suddenly, Seungyeon groaned, shifting in the seat. “Ah, shit. Minji, stop. I have to pee. Now.”

Minji braked, pulling the car onto the gravel shoulder.

“Baby, where's your bag?” Seungyeon grumbled, “You always have tissues.” She saw it on the seat and grabbed it, pulling it into the back. She started to rummage through it.

Minji’s hands tightened on the wheel. Bora was looking at her. This is it. The second she steps out, I'm gone. Minji was already planning it, her foot moving to the accelerator.

“Found it!” Seungyeon cheered, holding up a packet of tissues like treasure. She opened the door, half-laughing. “God, I’m so drunk. I’m gonna explode.”

And then she stopped. She cackled, a low, clever laugh.

“Ah! Right, right, right. Keys.” She leaned forward and yanked the keys from the ignition. The engine died, plunging the car into a heavy silence.

“Can’t have my little witches flying away,” she cooed, jangling the keys. She gave Bora a wet, sloppy kiss. “Be good. I’ll be right back.”

She got out of the car, slamming the door.

The moment she was gone, Bora hissed, “Why isn’t she passing out? How much did you give her?”

“All of it! The whole bottle!” Minji whispered, yanking on the useless door handle.

“Minji, that’s… that’s a lethal dose for ten people!”

“Well, it’s clearly not working fast enough!”

A branch snapped outside.

They both went silent.

After a few minutes Seungyeon was back. She opened the car door, and slid back in, shivering. Her mood had soured again. 

“It’s fucking cold out there,” she muttered. She was quiet for a long time, just breathing.

Both sisters noticed Seungyeon kept the keys. Bora knew this was bad. She had to do something. 

“Why the long face, love? We were having fun.” Bora forced a smile, touching her arm. “We are. We’re driving around, talking, drinking… Can we put on some music again?”

“No,” Seungyeon said sharply. “I’ve made up my mind.”

Then, a small, wet sound. A sniffle. Her eyes filled with tears, but the anger underneath them was unmistakable.

“I can’t let you go, Bora,” she said, and she was crying. The sound was terrifying. “You’ll betray me. I know it. Our enemies... they'll pay you. They'll pay you a fortune for what you know. You’ll tell them everything.”

“No, baby, I wouldn't, I swear…”

“You’re a liar!” Seungyeon roared, the tears turning to rage. “You’re a liar and you hurt me so much!”

Her hand shot out. She grabbed Bora by the throat.

Bora’s breath was cut off instantly.

“It’s more romantic this way,” Seungyeon whispered. “I’d never shoot you like a dog. I’ll kill you with my own hands. My love.”

Minji lunged across the console. The car was stopped; she could move now. She clawed at Seungyeon’s wrists, pulling, pushing, trying to wedge her arm between them. She tried to punch her but Seungyeon was impossibly strong, fueled by hateful adrenaline.Bora’s legs kicked weakly. 

“Let go!” Minji shouted. “Seungyeon, let her go!”

Bora was gagging, her face was turning the wrong color, her hands clawing uselessly at Seungyeon’s wrists.

It felt like forever.

And then, as suddenly as it began, Seungyeon’s body went rigid. Seungyeon convulsed. Her hands slipped. A final, violent spasm. Her body went slack all at once. She collapsed, a dead weight, onto Bora.

Minji shoved her aside, breath ragged, and Bora sucked in air with a broken sob.

Seungyeon stared ahead, unmoving. Eyes open. Unblinking. Empty.

The silence was absolute, broken only by the sound of Bora’s desperate gasps for air.

Then Minji whispered, “She’s dead.”

They didn’t move.

Didn’t touch her.

Didn’t even blink.

Minji stared at the body. At her sister, who was alive.

Bora was safe. Relief washed over.

But they were now in a much, much bigger problem.

Now what?

Chapter Text

The curtain to the cubicle swept back with a rustle.

Yubin stood there, slightly out of breath. She was wearing a stained old sweatshirt and her blonde hair tied back in a messy bun that suggested she had indeed been deep in a hardware build. Her eyes scanned the room, landing instantly on Yoohyeon.

"Yoohyeon! Are you okay?" Yubin stepped in, ignoring the sterile atmosphere. "You sounded calm on the phone but..."

She stopped mid-sentence as she turned to acknowledge the nurse, her eyes widening.

"Handong?"

Handong straightened, her professional composure slipping into genuine surprise. "Yubin? What… what are you doing here?"

"I’m here for her," Yubin said, jerking a thumb toward Yoohyeon. "She’s my friend. What are you doing here?" She cut herself off, groaning softly. "Sorry, that was stupid. Obviously you’re here because you work here. As you told me. It’s late, my brain’s barely functioning."

Flustered, she tried to casually fix her hair. Suddenly self-conscious about the fact that she definitely wasn’t dressed to impress.

Handong let out a soft laugh, warm enough to make Yubin’s ears heat. "I’m not always here, you know. They do let me go home sometimes."

Yoohyeon looked between them, her head turning back and forth like she was watching a tennis match. "Wait. You two know each other?"

"She fixed my laptop," Handong said, her eyes still locked on Yubin. There was a flicker of something in Handong's expression. Relief? Interest? Yubin couldn't quite place it.

"And she's the mysterious nameless customer who is totally not a hacker," Yubin said, giving her a teasing smile. "I mean... I respect the commitment to your cover." She looked back at Yoohyeon. "Small world. So, you really can't drive?"

"I can but I am not allowed," Yoohyeon muttered.

"Yoohyeon…" Handong stepped closer, her voice softening. "I’m not trying to lecture you. I just… you were incredibly lucky today, and I need you to take that seriously. Please don’t be an idiot about this. Avoid efforts for a few days and no driving at all."

"You heard the nurse. Let’s get you out of here." Yubin moved to help her off the bed, offering her arm for support.

Handong handed Yubin the discharge papers. "Make sure she takes the muscle relaxants as soon as she gets home. And ice. Lots of ice." She paused, her gaze shifting to Yoohyeon. The professional tone softened into something warmer, more personal.

"And Yoohyeon," Handong said gently. "About Minji. Don't overthink it. She just needs time. I'll talk to her when I get home, okay? I'll make sure she knows you're fine."

Yubin paused. She looked at Handong, then at Yoohyeon, and then back at Handong. Her eyebrows shot up.

"Wait a minute," Yubin said, processing the information. "Minji? That Minji? The shop owner you are working with?"

Yoohyeon looked confused. "Yes?"

"You'll talk to her at home?" Yubin pressed, a look of dawning realization spreading across her face. "You two are family?"

Handong nodded slowly. "Yes. Minji is my older sister. Why?"

Yubin let out a light laugh. She looked at Handong with a new appreciation, and then turned a mischievous grin toward Yoohyeon. "You are kidding me. The 'Mysterious Pretty Redhead' is the sister of the 'Mysterious Herb Shop Lady'? The universe has a sense of humor."

Handong frowned, tilting her head. "Do you know Minji? She never talks to anyone in town. She barely leaves the house."

"Oh, I don't know her," Yubin said, her grin widening as she squeezed Yoohyeon's arm. "But this one? I hear about Minji constantly. 'Minji has such nice eyes.' 'Minji knows so much about plants.' 'I think Minji might be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen but I'm too scared to talk to her.'"

"Yubin!" Yoohyeon shrieked, her face burning hot. She smacked Yubin's arm hard. "Shut up! Oh my god, shut up!"

"What?" Yubin laughed, easily dodging a second smack. "It's true! She's been talking about your sister since day one."

Yoohyeon looked like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She refused to make eye contact with either of them, staring intensely at the linoleum tiles as if wishing she could dissolve into them.

But Yubin noticed that Handong didn't look angry. She didn't look weirded out. In fact, Yubin watched as a smile spread across the nurse's face. It wasn't a polite smile. It was genuine, and it reached her eyes.

"Really?" Handong asked, looking at Yoohyeon with a mixture of amusement and tenderness.

"I... she's exaggerating," Yoohyeon mumbled, voice barely audible.

"I see," Handong said. She crossed her arms. She gave Yubin a playful, knowing look before focusing back on Yoohyeon.

"Look," her voice was firm but kind. "I am definitely on your side. If you need any help with Minji... any inside information, or just someone to tell you she's not hating you... you just ask me. Okay? I think you're good for her."

Yoohyeon blinked, stunned. "Really?"

"Really." Handong glanced at Yubin again, and for a second, her composure faltered. "Now, get out of here. I have charts to finish."

"Yes, ma'am," Yubin said, giving a mock salute. She helped Yoohyeon with her jacket. "Come on, Slowpoke. Let’s get you to the truck.”

They walked slowly down the hallway. The silence of the hospital wrapped around them, though Yubin could practically feel the waves of embarrassment radiating off her friend.

As they reached the automatic doors, the cold night air hit them. Yubin helped Yoohyeon into the passenger seat of her own truck.

"You okay?" Yubin asked as she climbed into the driver's side and adjusted the seat.

"I'm mortified," Yoohyeon groaned, leaning her head back against the seat. "I can't believe you said that to her sister."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it? She likes you. She's on Team Yoohyeon." Yubin started the engine. She glanced back at the hospital entrance, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Besides," Yubin said, putting the truck into gear. "This works out perfectly for me too."

"How does my humiliation work out for you?"

Yubin smirked, turning onto the main road. "Well, you're going to have a lot of free time now that you can't work the fields for a few weeks. You need a project."

"I don't need a project. I need sleep."

"No," Yubin said decisively. "We are definitely making a double date happen."