Chapter Text
The sun had risen, a new honmoon had appeared, and now the sun set again, but Celine barely noticed it. She still kneeled in front of the tree, exactly like Rumi had left her.
Her phone buzzed without a ringtone in her pocket, like it had done the whole day, but it was ignored until it went quiet.
Before Rumi appeared, she had been cleaning the grave where her surviving sister in voice and arms and she had laid part of her heart to rest so many years ago. From where she kneeled, she could read the words engraved in the stone.
Ryu Mi-yeong-ui myo
Grave of Ryu Mi-yeong
Protect what is left of her in the world, she had sworn to herself….such big words. With so much goodwill, she set to the task only to ultimately fail.
She had not protected anyone. Only herself.
Rumi, kneeling, holding her sword in her hand, asking her to end it, flashed in her mind, and for a moment her breath hitched, her eyes welling up. Then she was back in control, face almost neutral.
Yeah, Mi-yeong would be very proud of that.
‘Why couldn’t you love me?’
‘I do.’
‘All of me!’
The memory stung, and Celine folded a little more into herself, Rumi’s voice echoing in her head, her eyes full of tears and anger, one so different from the other.
‘This is why we have to hide it. Our faults and fears must never be seen! It’s the only way to protect the honmoon.’
The words of her teachers had now become hers as well.
Once she had convinced herself that protecting the honmoon, was her way of protecting Rumi.
Protecting, more like fixing. You had thought you could fix her!
‘Why couldn’t you love me?’
That girl had always asked the important questions, even as a kid. But now the answer scared Celine.
She sat still, so many thoughts spiralling in her head. She tried to calm them, had tried so for the last hours, but to no avail.
Her phone buzzed again, and this time she took it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. It showed a picture of a young woman, her hair put up into two buns on top of her head, clad in a white long-sleeved crop top. The picture was at least 30 years old, but it was still one of Celine's favourites.
She looked at it for a few more seconds before it went quiet yet again.
And then, just like that, something settled, a clearness, a plan.
Silently, she stood up, wincing as the blood returned to her dead limbs, turning away from the tree and the graves, her movements steadier with each step.
She had made a choice, and now it was time to act.
Once made up her mind, Celine was never one to dawdle. For better or worse.
Her phone lit up again. This time, she took the call.
'Celine? Finally! Are you alright? How are Rumi and the others? The honmoon was gone and then back again?! What is going on?'
'Poppy,’ Celine said, a little surprised how easily she fell into her sure, commanding tone. Old habits die hard.
'Everybody is fine. But I need you to come here.'
There was silence for a moment, then a sigh, caught between annoyance and resignation.
'I am on my way already. Halfway there, in fact. I can be in your office in two hours. And I am right in the assumption that you will not tell me anything more until I arrive.'
'You are correct,' Celine answered.
Another pause, another sigh.
'Ok, I will be there,' came the short answer, and before Celine could say anything else, Poppy had hung up.
Celine did not care. The conversation they both were going to have would not improve the mood of the other, and it was better to talk about this in person.
She put her phone away, walking straight out of the graveyard and towards her car. But as soon as she sat behind the wheel, her phone, which she had thrown on the passenger’s seat, buzzed again.
And again, and again.
She picked it up only to see the same picture on all the media outlets she had subscribed to. Rumi, flanked by Mira and Zoey, all three dressed in white, and Rumi’s demon patterns, now almost white instead of the purple she had seen before, for all the world to see.
Celine could only stare, not sure how to process this, before concluding that it may have complicated things, but did not change her plans in the slightest.
Her phone buzzed yet again, Poppy’s picture back on the screen.
She straightened her shoulders and picked up the phone. Poppy’s voice was quiet, almost calm, and Celine knew that was when she was the angriest.
'Celine, why does Rumi have patterns?'
Rumi tried to sleep.
Unsuccessfully.
She laid on her right, trying to relax, only for Jinu’s face to appear as she closed her eyes.
She turned from her right side on her back, her blanket rustling as she moved, trying to settle in, closing her eyes, using one of the breathing exercises she had learned from….Celine.
Rumi’s eyes shot open again.
Yeah, that would not be working as well, thanks very much.
With a deep sigh turned to her left and looked at the only thing that still made sense. Two things really.
Her bandmates were fast asleep, both facing her.
After all that had happened in the last 24 hours, Rumi had been unable to stand the thought of spending the night alone.
So, after beating Giw-ma, selling the final battle as a big reunion concert for huntr/x, and many gruelling hours of smiling for the camera, Bobby finally could take control over the situation again and send them home. And there, Rumi had quietly asked if the other two could stay with her for the night.
She had felt almost shy, like she had no right to ask, after lying for so long, but the way Mira and Zoey had looked at her melted her insecurities.
They had washed off the grind from battle, one after another. Zoey, the last to take a shower and change into her sleeping clothes, had, in a somewhat pale imitation of her usual high energy, let herself fall very ungracefully onto the bed, right in the middle.
Rumi and Mira had already lain in bed, with Mira nodding off, before Zoey made the mattress shake and bounce so all three of them lost their balance and fell closer together.
It had made Rumi laugh a little, and as she watched Mira ruffling Zoey's hair affectionately, she could not help the smile on her face, no matter the circumstances.
Now Zoey still lay in the middle on her right side, her face resting on her left hand, legs tucked in, reminding Rumi of a cat curling up in the sun. Her right arm was somewhat awkwardly stretched behind her, though.
Rumi lifted her head a little to have a better look.
Mira’s left hand was close to Zoey’s, and Rumi wondered if they had held hands while falling asleep or if both had reached for each other at one point during the night without her noticing.
Mira’s other arm was folded under her head, her jaw slack, as she breathed a bit louder and deeper than usual, a sure sign of how tired she was.
Gently, Rumi reached over Zoey, readjusting Mira’s blanket, which had slipped down a little. As she leaned back, she found Zoey looking at her, eyes surprisingly sharp for someone who had supposedly been asleep for hours.
'Hey,' Rumi said, lying back down, meeting Zoe’s gaze.
'Hey,' was the answer.
They kept looking at each other, the air thick between them with unsaid things, but where to start?
Behind them, Mira became somewhat conscious. She moved closer to Zoey, hugging her from behind.
'Tomorrow,' was all Mira said, her voice hoarse from sleep.
Zoey smiled fondly as she pulled Mira’s arm over her like a blanket, and then, to Rumi’s mild surprise and immense joy, she reached for her.
Without much thinking, she let herself be pulled in, loving how Zoey wrapped her arms around her, and as Zoey tugged her head under her chin, it was the best feeling. Another hand lazily stroked over her hair, startling Rumi a little, before she realised that Mira had inched closer, their forehead almost touching now.
Zoey reached for Mira’s arm that was draped over her, pulling it over Rumi as well, so Mira had to scoot even closer to Zoey, pressing the smaller woman against Rumi’s chest.
A content sigh escaped the two as they settled in this new position, and seeing them like that, tugged at something in Rumi’s heart. It felt safe, familiar, like home.
Despite being so entangled, it was immensely soothing to hold and be held like that.
Sleep was finally close.
She felt how her body turned heavy.
Yes, after everything, tomorrow sounded perfect.
Celine sat in her office chair, leaning back, her right arm propped up on the armrest, her chin resting on her hand, her gaze turned inwards, not really seeing her surroundings.
As soon as she had arrived, she had made three calls.
First was Bobby. The girl’s manager picked up after the first ring, even though it was way past midnight, listening eagerly to her briefing on how to handle the new…look Rumi was presenting. A Tattoo this big would sure make some waves, but could be sold well if done right.
Then she advised him to position some extra security around the girls' Apartment building, maybe even someone who could keep an eye on the balconies. After such a high-profile reunion concert, some eager fans might overstep a boundary.
But she found that the small man had already arranged such precautions.
She had always liked Bobby.
Second was to her doorman. She told him to let the visitor who would arrive in about an hour, right through.
The burly young man had not worked long for her and was too young to recognise Poppy.
Fleetingly, she remembered reading his birthdate as she skimmed over his resume before she had hired him. 2003. Four years after they had lost Mi-yeong and the sunlight sisters had continued as a duo for a short time, throwing in some solo projects as well, all to stabilize the honmoon long enough until the next generation was ready.
Unbelievable that people born in 2003 could work for her now.
Gods, she was old!
For the third call, she had been lucky that she still reached someone; it was way past official office hours after all.
As she took out a business card from the drawer, dialling the number on it, she fully expected to leave a voice message and be called back the next day. Celine had been surprised when a woman had picked up the phone. She sounded young, but very professional and friendly.
At Celine’s question, why there still was someone at the office, she promptly answered, 'Many of our clients have very demanding work schedules or require the utmost level of confidentiality. With appointments late at night, we meet those needs. Would you be interested in one of those?'
'No, in the morning is sufficient enough,' she answered, and just like that, she had an appointment for the next morning.
Being a celebrity had its benefits
Now she was bone tired. In the last 24 hours, she had barely slept and eaten very little.
But that did not matter.
What mattered was that she had put her plan into action. Now she only had to sort out the details.
Speaking of which…
Her intercom came to life, and as she pressed the button without looking, the voice of her doorman announced that her guest had arrived and was on her way up.
She thanked him, cutting the connection, stood up, and walked to what looked like normal panelling. Her back hurt from sitting so long without moving, but she ignored the dull ache as she reached up and pressed down.
A door to a hidden cupboard sprang open.
Out of it she took two shot glasses.
Unlike everything else she owned, they were ugly as sin, adorned with flowers that were supposed to look like cherry blossoms, but had more the charm of a bootlegged Hello Kitty design.
The petals even had the wrong color.
One glass had blue flowers, the other a yellow ones.
Absolute blasphemy and still, she would have fought Giwa-ma for these things.
Going down on her knees, she quickly found the hidden handle, pulled, and revealed a fridge. It was full of drinks she would never touch, but the girls raided them regularly when they came to her office.
Now, between all the grape juice and soda pops stood a small green bottle with a red cap and a white label with black writing.
She had bought the Soju on her way to the office in a Korea Seven, after she had made a quick stop at her house, to change into a blouse and simple black pants.
The cashier, in his eager helpfulness falling over himself, had annoyed her so much she had almost lost her temper, imagining for a split second to punch his throat and leave with the bottle.
But she being in this shop alone would probably make headlines she did not care for, so she figured decking someone would not make her look any better.
Being a celebrity had its downsides.
Standing up, she closed the door of the fridge, and just as she was putting down the bottle and glasses on the table, the elevator door, which opened right into her office, swung open and in strode Poppy, former maknae of the sunlight sisters.
She looked angry as she walked towards Celine without a hello.
Small wonder.
Celine had made her come here without saying anything, no matter how much the other had insisted.
This was no conversation one should have over the phone.
Everything in Poppy’s body language told Celine that she was in for it.
But then Poppy saw the glasses and the bottle of Soju.
She stopped dead in her tracks, the big creoles in her ears, dangling a little with the sudden halt, the light slightly catching in them, eyes glued to the glass with the yellow cherry blossom flowers.
Then she looked at Celine, who met her gaze openly.
“Fuck Celine, really?”
Celine, purposefully and with all the careful precision she had handled every task in her life, took the bottle, turned it on its head, holding it with one hand and taped the bottom on the side with her flat hand a few times, before turning it around again, holding it in one outstretched hand towards Poppy.
Then she flicked the bottle from 3 o’clock up to 12 o’clock, down to 6 o’clock, and back up to 12 O’clock in a quick jerking motion.
A swirl could be seen inside the bottle, a perfect tornado.
Before it calmed, Celine grabbed the red cap, twisting her hands in a very elaborate motion, opening the bottle, and holding it in one hand. With the other hand Celine made a peace sign, hitting the bottle’s neck with some ‘Scissor action’, as a very drunk Mi-yeong had called it, whenever Celine had opened a new bottle on this one night they had secretly bought a few bottles, defying their master’s rules yet again and making a much younger Poppy laugh so much she had tears in her eyes.
The older Poppy looked like she had a similar memory going through her head. As she raised her shot glass with both hands, there was a slight gleam of her old mischievousness shining through, the anger she had entered the room with gone for the moment and replaced by something Celine could not read completely.
As the older one, Celine used one hand to pour Poppy’s drink.
The younger woman placed the glass back on the table with utmost care before taking the bottle from Celine, waiting until the older woman held her glass leisurely up in one hand. With a little bow, that was more jest than respect, Poppy purred Celine’s drink, both hands remaining on the bottle.
Celine waited until Poppy had put the bottle away, picking up her shot glass with both hands again.
In sync, they drowned their drinks in one go, Celine with one hand, remaining where she was while taking her shot, and Poppy, turning away from her, keeping two hands on her glass.
With a slight clinking sound, both placed their glass back on the table at the same time.
All of that had been performed like it was one swift motion. It was like dancing between them. Even with something mundane like sharing a drink, even after all that time apart, they worked perfectly together.
It had felt good, like old times, but there was a small sting in Celine’s heart, somewhat dulled by the years, but still there.
One dancer was missing.
Again, Poppy seemed to think the same. She leaned against the table, arms crossed over her chest, looking at the shot glasses.
'I can’t believe you have kept these,' she said, more to herself than Celine.
Unsure of how to answer, Celine took a moment to look at her former bandmate.
It had been a while since she had seen her this close, face to face.
Of course, Poppy had gotten older, but no grey had touched her hair so far.
She still wore it in two buns, her curls proudly on display. She only lost the headbands with the pom-poms.
Her face carried small signs of time, some wrinkles here and there, but just like Celine, she was still in pristine shape.
Every movement Poppy made told the older woman that she could jump right into battle, without a second thought, just as dangerous and lethal as she had been the last time they had fought together.
The silence grew longer, and just as Celine wanted to say something, Poppy’s gaze shifted to her.
It was like being under a microscope, and Celine held the stare, trying not to blink.
Then the younger woman sighed, breaking the gaze, and sitting down more comfortably on the desk.
'Ok, let’s start with the obvious. Why does Rumi have patterns? And why could you not tell me on the damn phone?'
Celine sat down on the desk as well, the shot glasses and the Soju between them.
Better rip the band-aid off quickly.
'Rumi’s father was a demon,' said Celine, keeping a close eye on Poppy.
Poppy made a sound like she had been hit. It was painful to watch how she slowly understood what Celine had told her. She could see all the emotions on Poppy’s face, the same she had felt so long ago on the day Rumi’s marks had appeared for the first time.
A cocktail of hurt feelings, fear, and anger that was almost too strong to swallow.
‘Yeah, that explains why you could not tell me on the damn phone,’ the younger woman said, swaying for a moment, and Celin reached for her shoulder to steady her, and to her surprise, Poppy let it happen.
'But I held her when she was born, there were no marks, nothing. Are you sure it’s not a possession?' Poppy asked after a moment, and Celine could sympathize with the attempt to find another solution.
'I am sure. She never showed any signs of the usual symptoms. It’s just how… Rumi is,' Celine said.
This simple admission had cost her all her strength.
She had so much work to do.
'And,' Celine added, 'I found proof.'
'What proof? Where?'
'I read Mi-yeong’s lyrics.'
‘In her lyrics? Wha…I can’t remember that we sang ‘Oh I love to fuck demons’ at any point in our career!' Poppy said, sounding more confused than angry.
Celine winced slightly at the wording. She knew it was just Poppy’s way of dealing with things, but she disliked even the hint of any negative inclination concerning Mi-yeong.
‘It was not in a song. It was in one of her notebooks. You remember how she started to sing on the balcony? At night. She must have sent some messages this way.’
Poppy looked at her in utter disbelief.
‘So, you are telling me that Mi-yeong wrote some secret messages into her lyrics, got onto the balcony, and sang morse code for her demon lover into the night? Celine, you sound insane.’
‘When you know what you must look for, it’s unmissable. Times, dates, places. And how else do you explain Rumi’s marks?’
Poppy struggled for an answer.
'But when did you – wait…oh gods, was it consensual?' Poppy asked further, looking terrified, and Celine could understand where the thought came from.
There had been cases passed down from former generations of hunters, in which women and men had fallen for seduction, lured into a place where no help would come, and then, what had once been an eager lover was left soulless on the ground.
‘It was not like that. She still had her soul and remember how happy she was, Poppy,’ Celine said, looking at her former bandmate, chest tight as she spoke, ‘She must have loved him.”
‘Ok…’ was all Poppy said, partly relieved that Mi-yeong had not been hurt that way, and partly angry because her friend and fellow hunter had fallen for a demon, the things there were supposed to kill without question.
That was what they had been taught, and yet only one thing rang through her mind, repeatedly.
Her face went dangerously pale as she thought about it, breathing slowly to calm herself.
Celine took Poppy’s shot glass, filled it, and gave it to her, and Poppy threw tradition out the window and drank with one hand, not bothering to face away from Celine this time.
Then the younger woman sank into herself, the hand that held the glass pressed to her forehead, her eyes squinted together, like she was in pain and… holding back tears?
Celine had not expected this. She had thought that Poppy would be fuming, maybe even trashing the office a bit before turning her anger against her.
She had always been a hot head, straight to the point, often calling out truths you did not want to hear.
It seems that she had not lost the latter of these traits over the years.
‘She didn’t trust us,’ she said quietly.
Of course, Celine had that thought by herself many times, but hearing this simple truth spoken out loud, hurt in a way, she had now words for.
And what could she say?
What was there to say?
‘I know.’
Suddenly, Poppy lifted her head, looking at her again, squaring her shoulders, bracing herself like Celine was about to deal a punch, just like she always had done when they had been sparing.
‘How long did you know?’
There it was, the moment Celine had been dreading. It was close to the feeling she had when Rumi had kneeled before her, sword in hand.
Only now she would deliver the killing blow.
‘Rumi was six when the patterns appeared.’
The silence that followed was deafening.
‘Six… that was 19 years ago.’
Celine had no better answer than, I know.’
'For 19 years, you told me nothing, you kept Rumi from me. Is that why you pushed me away? Just cut me from your life?!’
Here she paused, suddenly dangerously calm, before saying, ‘You didn’t trust me,’
It was no question, but she looked at Celine like she wanted an answer.
Celine could not give her one.
This time Poppy did not fight her tears, letting them fall freely as she allowed herself to sink from the table to the ground, not able to keep herself upright.
Instinctively, Celine reached for her again, steadying the other woman with a hand on her shoulder, and Poppy grabbed her hand like it was a lifeline.
Then she flinched away from it, like she just realized what she was doing, looking at Celine with so much anger that it stung, before pushing Celine, not enough to hurt, only to get some space between them.
But almost at the same moment, she reached for her again, grabbing her blouse, not able to decide between pulling her in or pushing her away, whispering ‘Why did you do that’ repeatedly, crying through it all.
Without thinking, Celine wrapped her arms around Poppy, holding her close, feeling how the younger woman wrapped her arms around her, her nails digging painfully through her clothes into her back before she delivered a killing blow of her own, in a broken, small voice.
‘You were all I had, and you left me behind.’
‘Why couldn’t you love me!’
Celine only held Poppy tighter, who in turn clung to her closer as she completely unraveled, her heaving sobs almost drowning Celine’s voice.
‘I am sorry.’ Celine said, the corner of her eyes burning with tears.
She did not allow them to fall.
It was hard to tell how long they sat there, but eventually Poppy’s tears subsided.
Celine felt the younger woman move back and gently let her go.
Now both leaned with their backs against the table, sitting on the ground, staring straight ahead, both trying to regain some of their strength.
Emotional turmoil had always drained Celine more than any physical strain.
As she turned her head towards Poppy, she wondered if she looked just as tired as her.
And yet there was still so much to say; it felt daunting to even think about it.
Again, it was like Poppy read her mind.
‘What now?’ she asked, voice hoarse from crying, turning her head to look back at Celine.
There was so much between them.
Years of lies and dishonesty, but also a deep love only a hunter could feel for her comrade, a connection that was hard to break, and even though Celine had tried her best to cut ties, it had not fully worked.
It was too much to put into words just yet, so Celine chose the simpler option.
‘Want some more?’ she asked, tiredly pointing her head at the Soju and the glasses.
Poppy let out a very tired laugh, some more tears running down her face, but she quickly wiped them away.
‘Why not,’ she said, watching Celine as she reached up, grabbing the bottle and glasses, before sitting down again, pouring each of them a drink, both retaking their former places, leaning against the table, eyes ahead.
They drank for a while, in silence, but funny enough, not an uncomfortable one.
After her third drink, Poppy spoke again.
‘Ok, that actually helped.’
‘The crying or the drinking?’
‘Both, I think.’ Poppy said, holding her glass out, allowing Celine to pour her another one.
‘Thanks,’ Poppy said, but not drinking right away.
She looked at her glass, her thumb caressing over the yellow petals.
'You still have hers?' she asked without looking up.
Celine shot Poppy a short look before standing, walking back to the cupboard, and taking out a third shot glass. It was the only one with the correct color for the cherry blossoms.
It did nothing to make it prettier.
Celine sat back down, placing the glass between them. Poppy had already switched her still full glass with the bottle, holding it in both hands again.
With great care, she filled the pink-patterned glass before emptying the last of the Soju in Celine’s blue one.
Both women held their glasses with two hands, holding them towards the filled pink one, before facing away from it, downing their drinks in one go.
Both leaned back against the desk, glasses still in hand, Poppy’s eyes glued to hers, while Celine looked at the ceiling.
‘I miss her,’ Poppy said quietly, placing her shot glass carefully next to the full one.
Celine shut her eyes for a second, fighting against new tears, swallowing hard before whispering, ‘Me too.’
She placed her glass next to the other two.
They were quiet for a moment, each busy with their thoughts.
Poppy was the one to break the silence again.
‘Ok, listen. I know there is still so much we need to go through, and I want the whole truth -,’
‘And you will get it. I will tell you everything.’ Celine interrupted, trying to convey how much she meant it, with every word.
‘Good, I will hold you to that. But not tonight. I am drunk and tired. I just want to crash somewhere.’
‘You can sleep here. I have a couch in the next room. Or I can call my driver. He can bring you to my house.’
‘Na, I take the couch, but what about you? Are you not driving home? Don’t tell me you are going to work like it’s a normal tuesday.”
‘No, I have an appointment in about –, ‘Celine looked at the clock in her office,’ - an hour. I change and then I am off.’
Poppy grunted in disbelief.
‘What kind of appointment is that early?’
Celine stood up, picking the card she had left on the table, passing it to Poppy, before daftly picking up all three glasses from the ground.
The older woman left Poppy to read the card, opening a door with her elbow, walking into a room that could be called a very small apartment.
Complete with a bathroom, a kitchenette, a wardrobe, and a sleeping couch.
She placed the glasses in the sink to wash them later, before unbuttoning her blouse, and picking a fresh one out of her wardrobe.
After brushing her teeth for good measure, she walked back into her office, only to find Poppy still staring at the card, frowning slightly.
‘So, that kind of appointment.’
‘Yes,’ Celine answered, unsure of what was coming next.
Poppy eyed her for a moment
‘What exactly are you going to say? You can hardly tell the truth.’
‘I don’t know. I make something up. Like, I am angry that she is bi or something like that.’ Celine answered.
‘You? Being angry that someone is gay?’ Poppy said, raising an eyebrow, smiling at her sardonically.
‘As I said, I will think of something on the fly,” she said, slightly smiling, before adding, ‘There are sheets and bedding in the wardrobe. If you need anything, my secretary comes in at eight. I will be back around nine, I think. Then we go and check on the girls. They should be awake by then. I need to talk to Rumi.'
‘Ok, but you are sure they are fine now?’
‘Yes, they have each other and –‘
‘Aww, that is kinda cute of you.’
‘- and I ensured more security was posted around the penthouse.’ Celine finished her sentence.
‘Of course you did.’ Poppy said with a sigh.
Celine pressed the button of the elevator door. It opened immediately, and she stepped in, pressing the button for the garage level.
For a moment, she saw Poppy, still sitting on the ground, waving her off with the business card in hand.
‘See you at nine!’ the younger woman said, then the elevator door closed.