Chapter Text
Celine sat amongst the other label executives in the VIP section, hands folded loosely in her lap, as others shifted in their seats, murmuring congratulations to one another, already imagining headlines and calculating numbers. Around them, the room buzzed with sound, punctuated by cheers and the click of cameras. Heads turned toward the stage as Rumi stepped forward to accept her award for the Song of the Year, the moment stretching as everyone tried to take a closer look.
Celine smiled.
It wasn’t the polished smile she gave cameras. This one came slower, softer. Her eyes burned, just a little, and she blinked once, carefully, then again. She didn’t wipe the tears. She let them sit, unhidden.
On the screen, Rumi bowed, still visibly stunned, her hands shaking as she spoke. Mira and Zoey probably hovering just out of frame off the stage, of that Celine had no doubt now. They would rather be nowhere else.
Celine exhaled, the sound barely audible, blurring as her focus slipped.
She remembered another night. For a moment, the applause faded.
The Honmoon had shuddered, small, but wrong.
Celine had been out of bed instantly, shoes half on as she stepped outside, instincts snapping into place, ready for teeth and claws, but there was nothing. No demons. No tear. Just the wind humming through the tree above and the Honmoon settling back into its glow as though nothing had happened.
She couldn’t sleep after that, resorting to meditation. The next thing she knew, she was being woken up again, but not to danger, rather to her phone vibrating violently against the floor.
For one brutal second, she was certain something had happened to the girls.
She answered already rushing to stand.
It was her secretary.
Rumi had surprise dropped a solo in the middle of the night. No one at the company knew it existed. No one could reach any of the girls.
Panic changed to confusion, then hardened into dread as she listened to the song, to Rumi’s lyrics, and her voice sounding so broken. Something was wrong. Whatever it was, it wasn’t small. All she knew was that she had to see her daughter.
She made it to their penthouse before noon, but no one was answering the door, panic was starting to set in again, and she decided this warranted using her key. Inside everything was quiet and calm, and on their beloved couch, were the three of them, tangled together, asleep, safe.
Zoey had Rumi’s braid wrapped loosely around her hands. Mira’s arm lay across Rumi’s shoulder.
Celine’s breath caught. Rumi’s patterns were visible, and had grown to cover her face, impossible to hide. They were also different, a kaleidoscope of iridescence instead of the purple they’d been all her life.
She must have made a sound, because Zoey’s eyes snapped open instantly. Worry crossed her face, then confusion, then sharp tension as she saw Celine and then followed her gaze.
Zoey nudged Mira awake. Mira blinked once, then straightened immediately. Together, gently, they woke Rumi.
“Unnie,” Zoey said quietly. “You have a visitor.”
Rumi looked up, groggy, then saw Celine.
Her body tensed.
Celine managed to ground herself enough to speak. “The Honmoon,” she said first, finding it a safer topic, voice tight. “I felt a disturbance.”
Mira answered before Rumi could. “It’s fine,” she said steadily. “Nothing wrong with it, no damage or breaches.”
Celine absorbed that with a slow nod.
Only then did she look at her daughter again. “And… Free,” she said hesitantly. “Rumi. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Rumi flinched, as if the word itself had struck her.
“I…” she started, then stopped. Her fingers twisted tighter on the edge of the blanket. “I hit a point where I couldn’t hide it- hide me anymore,” she said quietly. “The patterns were affecting my voice. I lost control. The patterns got worse. The Honmoon reacted. I thought I was breaking it, breaking everything.”
Her voice wavered, but she didn’t stop.
“I saw the file on my phone,” she went on, breath uneven. “And I kept thinking… if I’m going to ruin everything anyway, they should at least know the truth first.” She swallowed hard. “So, I uploaded it.”
A brittle, humourless laugh slipped out.
“Zoey and Mira found me,” she said softly. “And they didn’t run.” Her eyes burned. “They told me they loved me always.”
Celine’s eyes stung and words seemed to fail her.
Mira’s composure snapped. “She was suffering alone,” she shot, anger tight and controlled. “Because you made her believe she had to be. You taught both of us to kill anything with patterns like hers. You knew she had them. You told her to hide them from everyone. Even us. How could you do that to her?”
Zoey’s jaw clenched, but she stayed silent, eyes fixed on Celine like she was waiting to see which way this would go.
Celine sat down on the coffee table opposite them, closer now, but not reaching out yet.
She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “You’re right. I knew, of course I did. I’ve raised her since she was a baby. I watched those marks spread and I did everything in my power to keep anyone from seeing them. All I ever wanted was to protect her.”
Her gaze dropped to Rumi’s uncovered arms. “It wasn’t just fear of the Honmoon or fear of what the patterns might mean for her.” Her mouth tightened. “It was fear of people I trusted turning into something I didn’t recognize.”
She looked up again, eyes distant for a moment.
“When Rumi’s mother died,” she said, “it was in a demon attack shortly after she gave birth. We were unprepared, weakened, it was too much.”
Her voice went flatter. Harder.
“After the attack,” she continued, “after Mi-yeong had died protecting Rumi…” Her jaw tightened. “She saw the patterns on her arm.”
The word came out sharp. Stripped of anything that might resemble fondness.
“And she decided that Mi-yeong’s- that MY child was the problem,” Celine said coldly. “She said it was a hunter’s duty. That demons didn’t get exceptions. That half was still enough.”
A pause. Then, absolute venom:
“She wanted Rumi dead.”
Rumi flinched. Mira’s eyes widened. Zoey’s expression shifted from wary to outright horror.
“I thought I knew that woman,” Celine said. “We trained together. Bled together. Trusted each other with our lives. And the moment she saw the patterns, she decided that my daughter shouldn’t be allowed to live.”
She looked up then.
Her gaze burned. Sharp, furious, unwavering, leaving no doubt there had been consequences.
“I had to fight her, striking her down, and then severed her from my life,” Celine said, voice low and lethal. “No contact. No regrets. No second chances.”
Her mouth tightened. “I ended every contract we shared. Closed every door she’d ever opened. When people started rumours about why she disappeared, I let them.”
She met their eyes, unflinching. “She ceased to exist to me, and the world followed my lead.”
The fire faded slightly as she looked at the three of them. “But it broke something in me,” she admitted. “After that, I couldn’t trust anyone with Rumi’s secret. Not managers. Not other idols. Certainly not the public.”
Her eyes lingered on Mira and Zoey, regret cutting through the steel in their gazes. “Not even you.”
She exhaled once, short and bitter. “I told myself I was protecting her from the world. From hatred. From fear.” Her voice dropped. “What I was really afraid of… was losing her.”
Silence held the room.
Mira’s jaw tightened, anger still there but no longer sharp. “You didn’t protect her,” she said, quieter now. “You taught her she had to survive alone.”
Zoey finally spoke, voice steady despite the sting in her eyes. “She thought our love was conditional. That if we saw everything, who she really was, we’d leave.”
Celine closed her eyes.
Not for a second. Longer than that. Long enough that her shoulders sagged, like something inside her had finally given way. When she opened them, they were red and shining, her breath tight, carefully controlled and failing at it.
“I see that now,” she said, and her voice cracked despite her trying to keep it steady. She swallowed hard, blinking fast, the words coming quieter. “Too late.”
She looked at Rumi then. Really looked at her. At the patterns laid bare across her skin, no longer hidden, no longer flinching.
“I was so afraid of the world hurting you,” Celine said, voice breaking, “that I didn’t see I was hurting you.”
Rumi swallowed hard. “Eomma…” Her voice wavered, then steadied as she forced the words out. “Sometimes I thought… maybe you didn’t really love me. Not all of me.” She glanced down at her uncovered arms, the patterns faintly glowing. “Every time they spread, every time you told me to hide them, it felt like… like there was a part of me you didn’t want to see. Like if they kept growing, you might stop loving me altogether.”
Celine’s breath hitched sharply. “Rumi- NO.” She leaned forward without thinking, hands trembling. “I have never stopped loving you. Not once.”
Rumi looked up, eyes glassy. “But do you love all of me?” she asked quietly. “Not just the parts that are easy. Not just the parts that are safe.”
Celine didn’t answer right away. Her jaw tightened, raw honesty flashing across her face. “Yes,” she said finally. “I love all of you.” Her voice shook. “I’m just terrified that one part of you could be used to take you away from me. That if the wrong people saw it, I would lose you the same way I lost your mother.”
Her gaze softened, heavy with regret. “I never meant for you to think I didn’t love you. I just wanted to keep you alive.”
Rumi’s shoulders sagged, tension easing as tears finally slipped free. She nodded once, like something long-held had finally found a place to land.
Celine leaned forward but stopped short, hands hovering for a fraction of a second before she took Rumi’s. Her fingers brushed the exposed patterns first, a light, tentative contact that made her breath catch, before she clasped Rumi’s hands fully. The hesitation was visible. Real. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t pretend it was easy either.
“I don’t know how to undo what I taught you,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how to reach back and take fear out of a child’s heart once it’s been placed there.”
Her thumbs pressed into Rumi’s palms, unsteady, grounding herself as much as her daughter.
She shook her head once, barely. “Seeing you here like this… seeing you safe and loved-” Her breath hitched. “It doesn’t erase what I did. It doesn’t fix it.”
She looked up, eyes shining, raw.
“All I can ask is for the chance to do better,” she said, voice breaking. “And for you to still want me here while I learn how.”
Rumi didn’t hesitate. She surged forward and wrapped herself around Celine, arms locking tight, face pressed to her shoulder. Her breath hitched once, a small, shaky sound pressed into Celine’s neck.
Celine’s hands rose immediately, one settling at Rumi’s back, the other cradling the back of her head. She held on just as tightly, eyes closing as she exhaled into her daughter’s hair.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The silence settled, heavy but lighter than it had been.
Zoey shifted first, breaking it. Her voice was low but firm. “So, what now?” she asked. “Because we’re not going back to hiding her.”
Celine nodded once, the answer immediate. “Then you don’t,” she said.
She wiped at her cheeks and straightened, the steel settling back into her posture. “Let me do what I should have done from the start,” she said. “Stand in front of the fire instead of adding to it.” Her gaze moved across all three of them. “You have a small hiatus already scheduled until the Idol Awards, where you were supposed to announce Golden, but its fine. I’ll deal with everything, you three just rest.”
She reached up, cupping Rumi’s cheek with care, her thumb brushing skin and pattern alike. She didn’t look away. Rumi leaned into the touch, breath shaking, grip tightening for half a second before easing.
Across from them, Mira and Zoey watched, something uncoiling in their expressions. The sharp edge of anger softened. The room felt steadier.
The applause snapped her back to the present.
Celine blinked, breath catching as the stadium rushed back into view. Onstage, all three girls were finishing their speech, hands linked, voices steady. Rumi bowed first, then Zoey and Mira beside her, all three moving as one before turning toward the wings.
The crowd roared again as HUNTR/X walked offstage, golden lights trailing behind them.
Celine let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and wiped the dampness from her eyes.
====================
They were gathered near the doors to the stadium, coats on and hovering near the door, the red carpet only a short distance away.
Sound leaked in through the thick walls in uneven waves. Shouts. Laughter. The scrape of cameras being dragged into position.
Zoey peaked around the corner just enough to peer outside, then snapped her head back immediately.
“It’s bad,” she reported, back against the wall. “Like… historically bad.”
Mira folded her arms, rolling onto the balls of her feet before settling again. “Okay. So. We smile. We thank people. We don’t say anything that gets clipped into a headline.”
Rumi nodded once. “We stick together. No splitting up, no getting separated by journalists.”
Zoey pointed between them. “If someone asks about the kiss-”
“Deflect,” Mira said instantly.
“Redirect,” Rumi added.
“Run?” Zoey offered.
Mira almost smiled. “If necessary.”
Rumi inhaled, steadying, then placed her hands briefly over theirs. “We’re fine,” she said, more certainty than reassurance. “Whatever happens, we handle it together.”
Before any of them could answer, heels clicked down the hallway behind them.
“All three of you look like you’re about to walk into battle.”
They turned.
Celine stood a few steps away, coat draped perfectly over her shoulders, eyes sharp but amused. She took in their huddled formation, their linked hands, the matching tension in their posture.
Zoey straightened instinctively. Mira squared her shoulders. Rumi’s breath caught for half a second.
Celine smiled. “Relax,” she said gently. “You’re not in trouble.”
Mira let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Zoey laughed a little too loudly. “We just, uh- planning, PR is so important after all.”
“Yes, you three are so considerate to our hardworking PR staff,” Celine replied dryly. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Your actions tonight will stir things up. There will be questions. Some of them annoying. Some of them invasive.”
She looked at them, expression softening. “And there will be a lot said about your relationship, if that’s what this truly is?”
Zoey blinked, then huffed out a breath that sounded half-laugh, half-nerves. “Oh… of course you know now,” she said, glancing briefly between the three of them.
“We were going to tell you,” Mira added quickly, shoulders squared even as her hands flexed. “Just, the moment on stage felt too right to not have.”
Rumi’s voice came quieter. “But yes. We’re together. All of us.”
Celine didn’t interrupt. She looked at them fully this time, how close they stood, how instinctively Rumi’s hand found Mira’s, how Zoey stayed anchored near both of them.
Her expression softened immediately.
“I didn’t know for sure,” she said gently. “Not until tonight.” A small, knowing smile crossed her face. “But I’ve had a feeling for a while that something like this was going to happen between you.”
Their tension visibly drained.
“We were worried,” Zoey admitted, quieter now. “About how this might look. To you. Three of us.”
Celine stepped closer, voice warm and absolute. “What I see are my girls being loved. And loving back. That is all I could ask for.”
Rumi’s breath hitched.
“But let me be clear,” Celine continued, gaze sweeping. “You don’t need to hide this part of you. Love isn’t something to apologize for. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Celine leaned in then, close enough that only they could hear her. “Let me handle the vultures. This is my job. And frankly-” a small, wry smile curved her mouth “I owe you that much.”
Rumi swallowed. “Eomma…”
Celine squeezed her hand once. “You’ve carried more than you should have had to, now let me take my chance to do my part.”
She straightened, composure snapping back into place. “Now. You’ll walk out together. Heads up. Eyes forward. Hands held.”
Her gaze flicked between them, fond and fierce. “And if anyone out there forgets their manners, they’ll answer to me.”
Then she turned and headed toward the door, unhurried, unshaken.
The three of them stared after her.
====================
The red carpet outside the stadium was crowded with celebrities and reporters alike.
Lights flared as doors opened, flashes popping in quick bursts while artists filtered out in waves. Managers murmured to their teams, security guided traffic with practiced efficiency. Reporters leaned over barriers, calling names, microphones already lifted.
A member of TWICE paused for a few words, smiling wide as she answered questions.
“HUNTR/X deserves it,” she said without hesitation, adjusting her coat as cameras clicked. “Worldwide Icon isn’t just about success. It’s about impact. The impact they’ve had over the past few months is clear to all of us.”
A few meters down the carpet, KiiiKiii stood clustered together, mascara still smudged, hands shaking as they clutched their trophy. One of them tripped over her words mid-sentence, laughing through tears.
“We- sorry- thank you,” she said breathlessly when asked how it felt. “We’ve watched HUNTR/X for years, growing up with their music. Sharing the night with them feels unreal.”
Then a ripple went through the press line.
Someone spotted her.
“Celine!” a reporter called out sharply, already moving. Others followed, cameras swinging in her direction.
Celine had just stepped into view, immaculate and composed, a calm presence amid the noise. She slowed, turning slightly as microphones crowded in.
“Celine,” one reporter asked quickly, “how does it feel to have your label dominate the night like this? Artist of the Year, Song of the Year, Worldwide Icon-”
She smiled politely. “It’s gratifying,” she said evenly. “Pride is an understatement. Everyone’s hard work is paying off, we’re all really happy with how the night went.”
“Celine,” a reporter asked, carefully, “we’re speaking a lot tonight about the success of the label as a whole, but as both a producer and a mother- what was it like watching Rumi take home Song of the Year?”
That question made her pause.
The noise around them seemed to ease, even as cameras kept flashing.
Her smile shifted, softening into something more private. “That,” she said quietly, “meant everything.”
“I'll admit Free surprised everyone,” Celine continued. “Our team at the label. Even me.” She took a breath, steady. “It opened my eyes to what Rumi had been carrying for a long time. We’ve talked since then. Important conversations. Ones we perhaps should have had earlier.”
She met the camera directly.
“Though I will say,” she said clearly, “I have never been prouder of Rumi than I am now. She’s carried her struggles with grace and turned them into something that gave others courage. That inner strength- she earned it. Everything that happened tonight will be talked about, but know she’ll always have my full, unconditional love and support in all she does.”
A beat of silence followed.
A few steps away from the press line, HUNTR/X had just emerged onto the carpet. They’d spotted Celine and were already starting toward her, until the words reached them.
Rumi stopped.
Her breath caught. Her eyes glossy before she could think.
Zoey noticed first, fingers tightening around Rumi’s sleeve. Mira followed her gaze, understanding dawning instantly.
Rumi didn’t wait.
She moved fast but not frantic, cutting through the press cluster with murmured apologies. Microphones dipped. Questions trailed after her, unfinished.
She reached Celine and wrapped her arms around her, pressing in fully, leaning into her shoulder with an instinct she’d never outgrown.
“Thank you, Eomma,” Rumi said, her voice quiet and unsteady but clear. “For loving all of me.”
Celine held her immediately, one hand firm at her back, the other resting at the base of her neck. She closed her eyes for a brief moment.
“Always,” she said quietly. “You know that now.”
Rumi nodded against her, breathing her in, grounding herself. When she pulled back, her eyes were still wet but her shoulders had settled.
“I love you,” she said, not for the cameras, not for the moment, just because it needed saying.
Celine smiled then, small and real, brushing her thumb on a pattern beneath Rumi’s eye, wiping away a stray tear. “I love you too,” she replied. “More than anything.”
Then the noise crept back in.
Not all at once. Just enough to remind them where they were.
Cameras were still flashing. Reporters were still calling names. The night moving along whether they were ready or not.
Rumi took one more steady breath. She stepped back, brushed at her eyes once, and straightened. Mira’s hand found hers immediately. Zoey leaned into her side like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Celine looked at the three of them for a moment longer, pride open on her face, then said simply, “Go,” already turning slightly back toward the cameras. “I’ve got the press. You get home.”
Rumi nodded.
They turned together, the crowd parting as they moved, people watching them go. Not whispering. Not questioning. Just watching.
For once, Rumi didn’t feel the weight of it.
They had said what needed saying and done what needed doing.
The lights, the noise, the reactions to it all wasn’t an issue for now.
She walked on, hand in hand with the people she loved, steady and unafraid, and that was enough.