Chapter Text
It wasn’t even five hours after Namsan tower that Rumi made a decision that would change her life.
They had just gotten back to their tower, all the girls exhausted, bidding the other farewell.
Rumi had other plans; she took out her backpack, took as many changes of clothes as she could, and shoved them into the bag.
She was a demon, corrupting her friends, corrupting the world around her. As soon as Mira and Zoey realized that she was destroying them, they’d surely kill her, but her job wasn’t done yet. The new honmoon, she needed to protect it, and she couldn’t do that if she was dead.
So she took all the cash she had, nearly two thousand six hundred Won (two thousand dollars), left her phone and purse, and left.
She wasn’t sure where she was planning on going, but she needed to get far away before Mira and Zoey realized she’d gone.
So she left in the night, hauling her hood up. There wasn’t much she could do for the patterns on her face, but it wouldn’t matter when she got far enough away. She set her sights on Busan; they'd performed there many times.
She'd have to go on foot to avoid having to show her face or ID.
The moon was high in the sky, the artificial day from the new Honmoon long over.
She looked at her watch, an old analogue thing, two thirty-three in the morning, she had roughly six hours to get as far as possible as she is, and then she’d have to change her appearance to avoid being spotted.
So she took off, walking, getting a paper map on the side of the street, and when she was far enough, she’d look at it; she knew the general direction of where she was trying to go.
There weren’t many people out this time of night, thankfully, the last thing she needed was to be spotted by a fan.
As the night passed and the sun rose, she ducked into a washroom, looking at her reflection, she summoned her claws, took her braid, and cutting it clean off, her hair now loose and shorter than she could ever remember it being, it curled almost immediately.
She carefully trimmed it as well as she could, until it was chopped close on the sides and back and left with close to two inches on top.
She looked completely different and could pass as a dye job as well. She took out what little makeup she had and covered the patterns on her face.
Then she rinsed what hair she could off and left the bathroom.
Exhaustion tugged at her body, but she couldn’t stop yet; she was still too close.
So she kept pushing forward, trying to keep her eyes open.
She bought herself a cheap pair of sunglasses and a pair of reading glasses she could pop the lenses out of to have a disguise of sorts.
And about eight hours of walking and over thirty hours awake, she had to call it and curled up behind a dumpster.
She prayed no one would see or recognize her, especially here.
She slept for about three hours before getting back on the move.
She was lucky for being so fit; the years of training and hunting, and working meant she could walk for longer periods of time than others.
She aimed for thirty to forty kilometers a day, which would mean she’d get to Busan in about two and a half weeks.
Then she could rest for a few days, maybe crash at a motel.
For now, she had to just walk.
So that's what she did, and the first few days went well, she walked by roads and highways up mountains, and hills, and it wasn’t bad until the first rain came.
And it poured, it slowed her progress greatly, and she only got about twenty kilometers before she had to take shelter, in a canopy under trees, where she slept through the weather.
She was exhausted and sore, as fit as she was, all the walking with very little rest time since long before the idol awards was wearing on her, but she had to keep pushing.
She'd seen posters on the second day already, heard in passing cars, how the lead singer of Huntr/x was missing, how people were to keep an eye open for her, and report any findings.
She was glad that she cut her hair now; it made her less recognizable.
Her friends were looking for her, and that meant she had to keep moving, no matter what; she couldn’t rest.
So as soon as the rain stopped, she continued her mission, completing her normal pace.
And for three days she keeps it up, before she’s forced to take another rest day after arriving at a town, she used her map and estimated she was close to two hundred kilometers away from Seoul.
She sleeps and eats at a motel, and watches the news on their television, pictures of herself flash on the news.
They think she got the train somewhere; how wrong they are.
The police are still asking for any information.
There's a four-hundred-thousand-won award for anyone who helps them to find her, there are videos of Mira and Zoey begging her to come back home, and how they want her to know they aren’t mad.
It's fake, she knows it is, she can’t believe them, not after everything.
She sleeps more and showers, and is off again, putting more distance between her and her bandmates.
The Honmoon is holding strong; she doesn’t feel any tears or strains.
She's glad.
She buys some convenience store food and starts off again.
For four days, she makes good time, before another bout of rain forces her to shelter in another town, this time she doesn’t stay anywhere, but huddles under a dry spot she finds and sleeps for about ten hours. She wakes up stiff and sore, but she’s nearly halfway to Busan, she reminds herself.
She'll get a cash job there and start fresh; she’ll be okay, she has to, for the Honmoon.
She was making better time than she’d expected; she would hopefully arrive in another week of walking if the weather cooperated.
She hopes it does.
She hopes to not have to stop too much more, wasting days like this; she can’t be in one spot for too long.
She needs to keep moving always, maybe after some time in busan she’ll move on to another place, maybe at that point she may have a car, something to make the journey easier.
She looks to brighter horizons over the next week, crashing on the sides of roads and eating only small meals, rationing food, and only eating what she needs.
She does arrive in Busan ten days later, and rents the first motel room she can get, where she rests for two days while making a game plan.
She can do this; she has to.