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The Crimson Pact | Part 16

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, intense emotional fixation, yearning, emotional manipulation, hurt/comfort, angst, moral dilemmas, emotional turmoil, controlling behavior, past life death.

A/N: Here's another angsty chapter that builds up to the big explosion of events that is the climax. I apologize in advance if this makes you sad, but trust meeee it's so necessary for what I'm cooking up, y'all. Very complex emotions we're having here. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! There are only a few chapters left for the main story (maybe 4 at most?) but we're getting close!

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The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

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Names (For those who get confused): Haneul (Abby), Seoha (Romance), Hwimori/Hwi (Mystery), Seungho (Baby)

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Part 16:

Even If It Damns Us

The night was quiet in the way only alleyways could be. A hush built of neon hums, distant cars, and the muffled clatter of lives being lived behind thin walls. Jinu walked slowly, his steps echoing soft and deliberate against the concrete. He hadn’t spoken a word since Rumi left. He didn’t know how to.

The letter echoed in his head: “You were always the best part of us.” The kind of love Daehyun had written about didn’t feel like the kind demons were allowed to have. It was tender. Raw. Built not on power or pacts but something deeper. Something harder.

Belief.

Jinu had read those words and felt the weight of them like a blade pressed to the chest. He didn’t know Daehyun — but in those lines, he did. That ache, that desperation to rewrite fate for the sake of the one you loved… it was too familiar. Too close to his own marrow.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he reached the end of the alley.

The journal was worse. Or better. He wasn’t sure. The words had danced in and out of translation, the ink warping and glowing beneath his fingers like something alive. Rumi had deciphered the obvious, but the deeper magic… the structure of the ritual, the concept of a tether… that took someone like him to unravel. Someone old enough to remember the shadows those symbols were born from.

A tether. Not just a seal. A gate. A guardian. A chance for love to rewrite the laws.

The soulbond had to be strong. Stronger than anything forged by blood or command.

Three voices. One heart. That was the part that snagged in his thoughts.

Then he thought of the others. Jinu’s brows furrowed as he stopped beneath a streetlamp, the pale light catching in his golden eyes. Haneul… he’d say yes. He always would, if it meant saving you. And Hwimori — he’d weep through it, but he'd do it, even if he didn’t fully understand.

But Seungho? Seoha? Jinu could already hear their voices, echoing in his skull.

“You want us to try an ancient ritual that already failed once?”

“What if it doesn’t work again? What if it kills her?”

“What if it kills us?”

He clenched his jaw. They weren’t wrong. If they failed… If they failed, you wouldn’t just die. You’d shatter. Again. Maybe forever this time. And still — wasn’t that already the risk they were taking? Sacrificing strangers to Gwi Ma in hopes of bartering your soul? As if you’d ever forgive them for that.

If you found out there was another way… and that they didn’t take it? Jinu’s breath hitched. That would destroy what little was left of your trust. Of your heart. That would destroy your faith in them. It would be another secret. Another wound you didn’t deserve. And gods, wasn’t he already drowning in those?

His steps slowed. His heart tightened. He saw you again. The you he loved… standing in the center of their living room. Your voice breaking, your hands trembling, pleading with him through the ache. “There has to be another way.”

You had looked at him like he was already lost. And maybe he was.

Because back then, centuries ago, when your body turned cold in his arms, he had begged Gwi Ma to bring you back. Had clawed at the gates of the demon realm until his hands bled with magic and memory. He had sold everything just for a chance to see you smile again. And now… now there was a chance.

He thought back on the journal. If they could do it right this time — with enough preparation, with the bond strong enough, with all three of them in unison… Could it work? Would it be enough?

He wanted to believe it.

He had become a monster for you once. He’d do it again. But if there was a way to save you without becoming that monster… if there was even a sliver of a path that led to you smiling, to you believing in them again— Wouldn’t it be worth it?

Wouldn’t it be worth everything?

Hope curled in his chest like a fledgling flame. He would try. He had to. For you.

And then… the world cracked.

A pulse of heat spiraled down his spine. His demon patterns flared bright and angry against his skin, burning with recognition. The light of the streetlamp bent sideways. The shadows shrank in — whispering, curling, clawing.

He staggered a step back. “Fuck—”

The air thickened like oil. His breath turned to smoke. And then, A voice. Low. Velvet. Inevitable.

“Still playing hero, Jinu?”

His eyes widened — glowing molten gold just before the ground gave way beneath him, yanked from the mortal plane by invisible chains of darkness.

And with a soundless crack, Jinu was gone. The alley vanished. No light. No gravity. Just falling… or maybe being pulled through something colder than time and darker than death.

Jinu landed hard. The stone beneath him pulsed faintly, alive with ancient heat. Shadows pressed in from every side, thick with rot and silence. The air itself tasted like burnt offerings, sweet with decay, sharp with ash.

Jinu groaned, pushing himself up with a hand to his ribs. The moment he stood, he felt it: the eyes. A crowd of demons ringed the space, silent and still, their monstrous forms barely visible beneath the veil of mist and flame. Some bore wings tattered by time. Others dragged tails slick with blood. Some wore no form at all. Just shapes of smoke and bone, curling in on themselves like forgotten nightmares.

But every eye was fixed on him. Not in awe. In fear. They looked at him like he was already damned.

Jinu scoffed and rolled his shoulders. “What’s with the long faces? Everything’s going to plan.” he muttered, his voice echoing too cleanly in the void. He tilted his chin toward the black sky above them, “Look at all these souls, huh?”

And there they were. Dozens, hundreds of souls streaming through the void like shooting stars. Each one shrieking, burning, twisting as they were devoured by the dark. Once, he would have looked at them with indifference. Now… Now they looked too much like the souls you begged him not to take.

He looked away. A small demon near the edge, eyes wide and glassy, spoke, voice shaking. “Turn around.”

Jinu did.

And the void behind him… ignited. An inferno of impossible size. Pink, violet, magenta, coiling and writhing like a serpent made of starlight and screams. It had no form, no face, just consuming will. The core of the Demon Realm. The origin of all pacts and punishments.

Gwi Ma.

Jinu exhaled through his nose, every muscle in his body going still. Then came the voice. Silk and thunder.

“It’s funny.” The words sliced through the silence. “I thought for a moment… you actually believed you could deceive me.”

A slow, crackling laugh rose from the fire, deep and endless and hollow as a grave. Jinu tried to laugh with him. His voice came out a little too tight. “Yeah… that’s… that’s funny.”

But the laugh faded, and the flames grew. “Because if you truly believed her… if you really thought you could escape me, defy me… then you would watch your precious human soul be torn…”

The flames surged— “…to pieces.”

Jinu had just enough time to gasp before the world around him collapsed. He screamed as something invaded his mind. A hand not physical but impossibly present, ripping open thought, memory, truth.

His eyes flashed. And the vision began.

The wind howled. Branches reached toward the sky like veins made of light. Beneath them stood a woman. Long black braid down her spine, hands raised toward the Hunter’s Tree. The roots of it glowed with ancient, sacred magic. The kind that belonged only to hunters. A tree so old, it breathed the rules of the world.

The woman was trembling. Around her, voices sang. Not in unison, but in haunting, overlapping echoes. The melody was wrong, bending at the edges, barely clinging to harmony.

She whispered a name. And the moment she did, she was consumed by pain. A blinding light burst from her chest as the soulbond activated. It wasn’t controlled. It was wild.

The Tree responded violently, sensing something that didn’t belong — a soul that was sworn to the hunt calling on ancient magic.

She screamed as light split her body apart. Not blood. Light. Her soul fractured like glass beneath a too-heavy weight. Splinters of her flew into the tree, disappearing into bark and root and air. Her scream grew higher, more animal, more human… until it cut off.

Gone. Just like that.

And behind her, kneeling in the dirt… was a demon. Hair violet as a bruised sky. Face contorted in helpless agony. His hands shook as he reached for her, too late.

Daehyun.

He let out a sound no living creature should ever make. The scream of someone whose heart had been ripped from his chest. Jinu felt it all. All of it. As if he had been there. As if it were you under that tree. He collapsed to his knees, breath ragged, tears already spilling down his face.

“If you think that myth was real,” Gwi Ma whispered, “this is the fate that awaits her.”

The flames circled again. And more visions struck.

You.

Collapsing in his arms, blood pooling beneath you. Eyes blank. Lips parted with your last breath.

“Again.”

You. Throat slit in Seoha’s embrace, his trembling hands soaked in your blood.

“Again.”

You. Stabbed through the abdomen by the emperor’s blade, Seungho’s voice hoarse from screaming your name.

“…And again.”

You, burning, drowning, falling, breaking. Dying in every life he ever tried to love you in. Jinu screamed. Tears ripped from his eyes unbidden. He dropped fully, forehead to the ground, shaking like a man shattered.

Not again.

He couldn’t see this again. He couldn’t lose you again. More deaths. More endings. More you. Just gone. His heart thundered against his ribs, too big for his chest.

“Don’t forget our deal, Jinu,” Gwi Ma said softly, “because I can remove her from the cycle.”

Jinu gasped, his lungs refusing to fill.

“Or…”

And suddenly, the pain paused. Memories surfaced like a balm to burning skin. You, curled up beside him on the couch, eyes closed in trust. You, laughing at one of Hwimori’s jokes, sunlight on your cheek. You, in his arms, half-asleep, murmuring his name in the dark.

Your smile. Your voice. Your love. So fragile. So beautiful. So yours.

“…I can give her to you. For all eternity.”

Jinu trembled, still on the floor. His fingers dug into the stone, as if anchoring himself to anything real. He wanted that. He needed that. But then— You screaming beneath the Hunter’s Tree. You breaking. Shattering. Because of him.

“Don’t think you can escape what you are. What you created” Gwi Ma’s voice faded into the fire.

But the image remained. You, screaming in pain. You, smiling in his arms. The two versions of your future playing like twin stars at war in his mind. And somewhere deep inside him, under the grief and guilt and fear… a choice waited.

And a whisper rose: “I can’t let that happen.”

His hands tightened into fists. He wouldn't lose you again.

Not like that.

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The sun spilled weakly through the gauzy curtains, casting a soft gold wash over the Huntrix apartment. Pajamas rustled and the sound of quiet footsteps echoed in the living room as the three girls settled into their usual spots. Zoey curled up on one of the loveseats, Mira sitting on the edge of the coffee table, and Rumi perched at the edge of the couch with her long braid trailing over one shoulder. The empty dishes from breakfast had been cleared. The silence that hung in the room wasn’t heavy, just thoughtful. Expectant.

Rumi smoothed her hands over her knees. “Look, the last few weeks have been... hard,” she began, her voice steady but not defensive. “And I admit I haven’t been at my best. But I know we can win today. We just have to sing the right song.”

She paused, heart thudding against her ribs. They were going to attempt the ritual. The song had to be Golden. Not just because the lyrics resonated or because the melody carried hope—but because the ritual demanded unity, belief, and harmony between their hearts and true voices. Takedown was a war cry. Golden was a promise.

And if they had even a sliver of a chance at completing the tether, of saving Y/N, thousands of people, and ending this without a massacre—it started there.

She opened her mouth again. “And Takedown... it isn’t—”

“It’s okay, Rumi,” Mira cut in gently.

“We agree,” Zoey added, eyes downturned.

“It’s not the song that’s gonna connect all our fans,” Mira said, her eyes locking onto Rumi’s.

“It can’t even connect... us.” Zoey added dejectedly.

The three of them fell into a tender conversation. Not awkward, just vulnerable. They didn’t need to hash it all out again. Not the fights, not the fractures, not the days they’d spent in different corners of their shared space, afraid to say the wrong thing. Somewhere between whispered apologies and long talks on their truths and true feelings, they'd come to understand: Together, they could be their truest selves.

“I’m afraid of losing you guys,” Rumi admitted, her throat tightening slightly after Zoey and Mira had shared their sentiments. “And that’s why we have to finish this. All these fears, it’s the demons talking. But later... we can win this war. We can be free of these fears forever.”

Mira and Zoey exchanged a look. That same shared look they always had when they made a silent decision together. She’s sincere. She’s Rumi. Their sister, their anchor. They could trust her.

“We agree, Rumi,” Zoey said again, this time more softly. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was still something lingering in her gaze. A question. Rumi tensed before she could help it.

“On another note, for things to go smoothly…” Rumi began, trying to steer the conversation forward, “Has Y/N replied to any of your messages?”

Mira and Zoey froze for a second. Their eyes darted to each other again, but this time, not in reassurance. It was hesitation. The weight of what they’d seen last night. The notes, the symbols, the pieces of something much larger than they understood, pressed down like a held breath.

“What?” Rumi asked, narrowing her eyes. “What’s with that look?”

“…Now that we’re being honest,” Mira said slowly, “is there any other reason why you want Y/N to be there?”

Rumi’s breath caught in her throat. “What? What do you mean? If she’s there, it just means the Saja boys won’t—”

“We know, Rumi,” Zoey interrupted gently. “And we agree with that. We trust you.”

There was a beat of silence.

“It’s just…” Zoey looked sheepish. “We were looking for your hairdryer last night. You know, the one with the lightning-speed cold setting? Your hair takes like… years to dry.”

Mira snorted, but didn’t smile.

“And we found something else,” Zoey said, more carefully now.

“We didn’t mean to snoop—” Mira jumped in.

Rumi’s stomach twisted. Her heart began to race.

“But we found your notebook. It must’ve fallen out of the bed. We saw some of the pages. Runes, symbols, ritual diagrams… Y/N’s name. And something about the Honmoon—”

“You guys went through my stuff?” Rumi’s voice came out sharper than she intended.

“It— we didn’t mean to find it!” Zoey said quickly, holding up her hands. “But... you wrote about the Honmoon. A ritual. Rumi, what was that? You can tell us.”

“We know you’ve been keeping some things from us,” Mira added, gentler now. “And we don’t doubt there must be a good reason.”

“You don’t have to tell us everything now…” Zoey hesitated, glancing at the uncertainty in Rumi’s expression. “Look, we trust you. But we just need you to explain that so we understand. Just a little.”

“Whatever you’re doing, or planning, we know it must be for a good cause.” Mira looked to Zoey, both of them silently deciding to stand by their friend.

Rumi closed her eyes for a second. Her mind spun. No. She couldn’t tell them everything. Not about her parents. Not about Jinu. Not about the ritual itself. Not yet.

But she could give them a truth that wouldn’t collapse everything.

“I’ve just been… curious,” she said finally. “About the soulbond. About how it might affect Y/N. And the Honmoon. I’ve never seen a bond like hers before.”

She looked at her hands. “I grew up with Celine. My training started a lot earlier than yours. There were things I read, secrets, old texts… and I guess those notes were me trying to piece things together. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure what any of it meant. It’s all half-deciphered.”

She exhaled slowly. “The reason I want Y/N to be there is because yes, for extra measures. But also… because I was trying to understand something I read once. That someone with a soulbond could become… something like the Honmoon.”

Zoey blinked. “What? Like… a human Honmoon?”

“Something like that. It’s difficult to explain. But… remember when the Honmoon glowed on the train yesterday? When she took my hand?”

They both nodded slowly, eyes widening. “So you think… Y/N could become the Honmoon?” Mira asked.

“Not exactly,” Rumi replied. “I don’t know. But it reacted to her. That’s never happened before. I think she might be able to… change something. And it could be something permanent. As in— no more weakening of the barrier. Something that could seal the demon realm away forever.”

The living room fell quiet again. Zoey looked at Mira, then back at Rumi. Her gaze softened.

“How do you know this? Forever? Like, we wouldn’t need to strengthen the Honmoon every year?” Zoey questioned.

“Something like that,” Rumi nodded, eyes troubled. The weight of it all felt heavy on her shoulders. “Look, I still have to confirm it. And if anything happens, then we seal the Honmoon anyway with our voices. It was just something I wanted to look into…”

Zoey and Mira softened. They hadn’t realized how much their friend must’ve been carrying. The secrets, the weight of responsibility, the fear of being wrong… or worse, right. For all Rumi’s walls, she had never stopped trying to protect them.

“You don’t have to explain it all now,” Zoey said gently. “We’ve got to go soon anyway. But just tell us what we need to do.”

Rumi looked up, startled. She hadn’t expected them to say yes, or that they’d believe her just like that. That was it? They didn’t demand any more questions? She almost felt guilty that she wasn’t telling them everything.

Almost wondered if she had told them the whole truth, maybe they would understand…

“Y/N needs to be there, right?” Mira asked. “Would this... whatever it is, really be stronger than the Honmoon?”

Rumi hesitated and thought of her father’s journal. The symbols. The words ‘Three voices. One heart.’

“I think it might,” she said softly. “There’s no harm in trying.”

Lie. Everything depended on this. Your life. The life of thousands. Jinu’s and the rest of the boys.

“I just need you guys to sing with me,” Rumi added.

Both Zoey and Mira blinked. “That’s all?” Zoey asked.

Rumi nodded once. “That’s all.”

But in her head, she was already reciting the other pieces. The soul. The sacrifice. The choice. She would take care of the rest. She just needed their voices.

The girls were quiet for a moment. Then, as if making a silent decision again, they nodded. They still got the feeling she wasn’t saying everything. But maybe that was okay. Maybe it wasn’t the time. Maybe trust was more important than the truth right now.

She was their best friend, after all.

“Okay,” Zoey smiled. “Let’s go crush that stage.”

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You woke to the sound of breathing.

Not your own, but deeper, heavier, more beast than human. A warm exhale tickled the strands of hair at the crown of your head. You shifted and felt the drag of fur against your skin, the soft weight of an enormous paw still draped across your waist. Derpy.

He hadn’t moved from his post beside you. Not once.

Your eyes blinked open slowly, lashes stuck together from the dried salt of sleep. The ceiling above was awash in morning light, blurry and pale. You didn’t move. You couldn’t. The ache in your limbs was less physical than it was emotional. Your body weighed down by sorrow, as if grief itself had climbed into bed with you and held you down by the ribs.

From the curtain rod above, a chirp echoed. A melodic little sound that normally would’ve made you smile. The Magpie. It was perched like a guardian at your window, its glossy feathers twitching with the breeze, head tilted as though waiting for you to rise.

“Morning,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice a broken thing. Not even Derpy stirred. You curled into him instead, pressing your face into the soft fur of his chest and let your fingers tangle into the warm fluff there. He gave a low, sleepy grumble, pulling you closer with a sound that felt like safety. His scent, charcoal and cedar, firewood and something ancient, wrapped around you like a memory.

This was the first night in a while where you had actually slept alone without one of the boys beside you. Holding you. You almost hated how wrong it felt to be without them wrapping you in their embrace through the night. You’d almost become dependent on it. Used to it.

You let yourself stay like that for a few seconds longer. Just a few seconds where you could pretend this was normal. That you weren’t in a guest room because you couldn’t bear to sleep beside your lovers. That today wasn’t the day. That your tears hadn’t soaked this pillowcase the entire night.

But peace, like all beautiful things, was fleeting.

Because today was the Idol Awards.

And with that thought came the sickening dread. Like something clawed up from the pit of your stomach and wrapped itself around your spine. Today… they were going to do it.

Today, your boys, the ones who had memorized the shape of your hands, who cradled you when the night got too heavy, who whispered promises against your skin like prayers… were going to kill for you.

Hundreds. Maybe thousands. A sacrifice. A slaughter.

You flinched at the word. It felt too sharp, too real. How could the same hands that held you like you were glass... break the world in your name? You stared at the ceiling again, trying to breathe around the guilt in your throat. But it didn’t move. It never did.

You’d begged them not to go through with it. You thought they might listen. You thought love might be enough.

Had they found another way?

You wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that somewhere between all the pain, the planning, and the desperation, they had chosen something better. That they had chosen you, not as an idol or a reason to become monsters, but as a person. A girl who cried when she was overwhelmed. Who burnt pancakes. Who loved them deeply but wasn’t ready to carry this kind of darkness.

But you knew better than to cling to hope like that. Hope was delicate, and you’d learned it always broke when you held it too tightly.

Outside your door, muffled voices floated through the walls. Footsteps. The clink of dishes. A quiet hum of life. And then—

“…Just eat something. You’ll collapse like this. Did you even sleep?”

Seoha. The world stilled. Was he…?

Your throat tightened. He was talking to Hwimori. You sat up slowly, hands trembling, suddenly too aware of the way the silence behind your door felt heavy. Familiar.

Did he stay out there all night again?

The thought gutted you. You imagined him, slumped against the doorframe, knees tucked to his chest, lavender hoodie wrinkled from hours of stillness. Head drooped. Maybe he’d curled up like a cat, just to feel close. Just to wait for you.

Your heart cracked.

Hwimori didn’t need words. He never had. His love came in gestures. In the way he poured you water before bed. In the way he whined when you were sad. In the way he tucked his body close to yours like he was trying to hide you inside his ribs.

How could you explain this to him? How could you look him in the eye and say: You can't protect me this time. You can't follow me.

You couldn’t. You didn’t know how.

But you had to try. Because if they went through with this today… there would be no turning back.

You reached blindly for your phone, needing something to anchor you. Anything. One new message blinked on the screen. It was from Rumi.

‘Hey, how are you? Just checking in to ask if we'll be seeing you in the Idol Awards today. Please come. We'd love to see you there.’

Your breath hitched. The words weren’t heavy. They weren’t even long. But they carried so much warmth it made your chest ache. After everything, they still wanted you to come. They still thought of you.

You turned your gaze toward the corner of the room, where your bag sat in a forgotten heap. And tucked inside it, like a talisman from a world that used to feel simple, was the invitation.

Technically… you could still go. No one had taken it from you. Your fingers clenched the bedsheets. Should you?

The question stabbed through your brain like a needle.

If you went… you could stop them. Maybe. If you threw yourself in their path. If you stood on that stage and looked them in the eye and said no loud enough, would they finally listen?

But what would it cost? Would they see you as the enemy? Would they snap, break, and tear the world apart with you in it?

And what if you succeeded? What if you did stop them? Would it cost you your life? Would Gwi Ma take you anyway? Would the bond shatter? Would they survive without you?

You closed your eyes, and the memories came like a wave. Jinu brushing the hair from your face with a ghost of a smile. Haneul, pressing your hand to his chest, as if it would calm the storm inside him. Seoha’s whisper-soft voice telling you your name like it was something sacred. Seungho, brushing your lips with his, like a vow he wasn’t allowed to speak. Hwimori… curled up beside you like he never wanted to be apart.

You had never loved anything more in your life. And now you might have to break it.

You pressed your palms into your eyes. Hard. Trying to force the thoughts away. Would you be cruel to take yourself from them forever?

Yes.

But would you be crueler to let them live with blood on their hands? To let them become the monsters the world always feared they would be?

You looked at the invitation again.

You had to go.

If they didn’t listen today, if they locked you away again, you’d sneak out. You’d walk onto that stage. You’d make them hear you. You would not let them burn for you.

Not like this.

Your chest tightened as you picked up your phone again, thumbs trembling over the screen. For a long moment, you just stared at Rumi’s message. Then, slowly, you typed back.

‘Hey, Rumi. Thanks for checking up on me. I haven’t been in the best state of mind since yesterday. But I’ll be there today.’

You hit send. There. It was done.

The decision made your whole body feel heavy, like it had sunk deeper into gravity. But at the same time, something in your chest settled quietly. Like a match being struck in the dark.

You rose to your feet, legs trembling under the weight of it all. Derpy shifted beside you, giving a low growl as if sensing the tension in your chest. The magpie chirped again, more insistently this time. You knelt and buried your face into Derpy’s fur.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “Please stay here. Please watch over them.”

Then you scratched the magpie under its chin, your hand shaking as you turned toward the door. Your fingers brushed the lock.

This was your last chance.

Please, you begged in your mind. Please listen to me.

You unlocked the door and stepped out with trembling hands, half-expecting to see him there, Hwimori curled up on the hallway floor like some loyal creature refusing to leave your side. But he was gone. Only silence greeted you.

He must’ve gotten up. Maybe to eat. Maybe because the others had coaxed him to rest. The thought brought a flicker of relief to your chest, even as dread slowly poisoned your veins. The air was heavy, almost still. You padded softly down the hallway, careful not to make a sound. But it was too late.

They felt you.

You didn’t hear them move. You sensed it, the quiet shuffle of a knife being lowered, a breath being caught. Their bond tethered to you still, even if your hearts felt galaxies apart.

You turned the corner into the kitchen. They were all dressed. Already prepared for the Idol Awards, outfits tailored to perfection, hair meticulously styled, skin aglow beneath soft lights. They looked breathtaking. Unreachable. Heavenly and damned all at once.

But to you, they looked like men dressed for a massacre.

Jinu stood with arms crossed, wearing a black loose flanel dusted with midnight glitter, like stars swallowed in shadow. His jaw tightened the moment his eyes met yours. He didn’t speak.

Haneul held a tray in his hands, still plating what looked like congee and sliced pears. His soft magenta hair was slicked back, lips parted like he was just about to call for you.

Mystery had been sitting at the kitchen counter, legs drawn up to the stool. He froze, his entire body turning toward you like a hound sensing heartbreak. He whimpered, soft and low.

Seoha stood by the window, back straight, brows knit. He looked like he hadn’t slept, yet he was flawless. Pale silver shirt hanging loosely over his frame, one hand tightening around the glass of water he never drank.

Seungho was leaning against the wall near the door, half-hidden in the shadow. He had one earbud in, scrolling something on his phone before you entered. Now the phone was forgotten. His dark eyes burned into you.

They looked at you like you were a ghost. Their silence screamed louder than any greeting. The air crackled with emotion, too sharp, too raw.

You saw it in the way Jinu’s fingers dug into his biceps. The way Haneul’s shoulders slumped slightly. The way Mystery blinked too fast, trying to stop tears from forming. Seoha’s knuckles were white on the glass. Seungho’s jaw ticked, like he was clenching something deeper than anger.

You wanted to speak, but for a moment, you couldn’t. They looked so painfully beautiful. The kind of beautiful that ripped you apart. You remembered thinking they looked like angels the first time you saw them. Now, they looked like angels dressed for war.

Haneul swallowed first, voice hushed and soft. “You’re up.” The tray in his hands trembled.

You nodded slightly, the gesture barely perceptible. Your chest throbbed. You wanted to scream. Instead, you looked at the tray.

“I was just about to bring you breakfast,” he added softly.

You looked into his eyes, those eyes that had only ever gazed at you with kindness, and felt your heart break all over again. Even now. Even now they make time to care for me. How could they be so gentle… and still choose to destroy?

“Thanks,” you whispered.

They all flinched. Even your voice hurt them. You felt the bond tighten, a tether pulled taut over fire. Emotions rushed across it like static: their pain, their panic, their overwhelming desire to soothe you, to shield you, even from themselves.

Your eyes drifted to the bags by the door. Audio equipment and suit bags. “You’re really leaving, huh?” Your voice cracked.

No one answered right away. Then, Jinu’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”

His voice was hard. Cold. But he wasn’t looking at you. He couldn’t. He couldn’t watch your face crumble in sadness and heartache again.

Your lip trembled. "You don’t have to do this,” you whispered, voice shaking. “You still don’t. There has to be another way.”

Silence.

"I’m begging you,” your voice cracked. “Please. I know you think this is the only path, but you haven’t even tried to think this through with me. Not really. And if you have and you didn’t tell me, then, then how am I supposed to live with that?"

Seoha’s throat bobbed. He couldn’t meet your eyes. Haneul’s fingers tightened around the tray. His knuckles turned white. Hwimori looked like he was about to cry again.

“We’re doing this to protect you,” Seungho said. The first to speak. His tone clipped. Defensive. But even he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

"Protect me?" you echoed. “By killing hundreds? Thousands? You think I want to be protected like that?”

They flinched again.

“You think I can live with that? That I’ll look at you and still see the men I love?”

“You’ll be alive,” Jinu snapped. “That’s all that matters.”

You stepped forward, tears beginning to fall. “No. It’s not. I’d rather die than become the reason you do this.”

That stopped them cold. Haneul stepped forward. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” you barked. “It’s the truth! If I live and all those people die, then I might as well already be dead. Because I’ll never be able to forgive myself. And you’ll never forgive yourselves either.”

“You think we haven’t already accepted that?” Seoha said, voice low and trembling. “We know we’re monsters.”

“You’re not,” you cried. “You don’t have to be.”

“But we will be,” Hwi whispered. “If it means keeping you, I don’t care.”

Those words broke you hearing them from Hwi. They broke something in you. “You love me that much?” your voice cracked. “Enough to destroy everything else? What about you, Haneul? What about your promise to be good?”

Haneul’s eyes shimmered with tears. “I’d rather be damned with you alive than be good and lose you again.”

You stood there, heart in pieces, body barely holding together. But you didn’t walk away. Not yet. You couldn’t. This… this was your last chance. Maybe not with logic. Not with morality. But with love.

You took a trembling breath, and then you stepped forward. Slowly. Cautiously. Like you were approaching the edge of a cliff, and they were the drop. Please. Please, just see me.

“Look at me,” you whispered.

They did.

“I know you think this is the only way,” your voice shook. “I know you’ve made peace with it. That you’ve convinced yourselves this is for me. But I’m begging you…” Your knees nearly buckled. “I’m begging you,” you repeated, stronger this time. “Don’t go through with this.”

You moved first to Hwimori. He was closest, always closest. You reached out and gently took his hand, holding it with both of yours like he was something fragile, sacred. Your thumbs brushed over them like a prayer.

“Hwi…” your voice wavered. “I know your heart. I feel it every day. You’re loyal, you’re kind… you don’t have to do this to prove that you love me. You already do. I already know.”

He whimpered softly, trying to stay strong, but the moment your hands touched his, his shoulders collapsed inward. His fingers trembled around yours, but he couldn’t let himself crumble. Not yet.

You turned to Haneul. He was standing there, tray still in his hands, unmoving. As if this entire scene had frozen him in place. You reached up and gently set your palm on his chest, over his heart. It pounded beneath your hand like a frightened thing.

“I know you’re the one who keeps the rest of them together,” you whispered. “You’re the voice of reason. You’ve always tried to be good, Haneul. Please, don’t silence that part of you now. Don’t throw it away just to keep me breathing.”

His eyes welled. “Y/N…”

“I need you to be good,” you begged. “Because if you’re not… then who is?”

He looked down, jaw tight, blinking hard.

You turned next to Seoha. His entire body was tensed, arms crossed as if holding himself together was the only way he wouldn’t fall apart.

“Seoha…” your voice turned softer. You uncrossed his arms, gently, one at a time. He let you. Your fingers traced the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. “You think you’re protecting me, but this will ruin you. This will rot something inside you that you’ll never get back. And I love you. I want to love you forever. But I won’t know how to if you come back from this... empty.”

He inhaled sharply. Still… no one said no. Still, they chose silence.

You turned to Seungho next. He hadn’t moved a muscle. As always, unreadable. Cold. But his throat had bobbed, once. And that was enough for you to try.

“You’re pretending this doesn’t hurt,” you said. “But I see it. I feel it. You’re terrified, aren’t you? Not of the blood. But of what I’ll become if you go through with this. If I hate you. If I leave.”

His fingers flexed. But he said nothing.

Finally, you stepped toward Jinu. He hadn’t looked at you this whole time. His jaw was tight. His fists clenched. Like if he dared meet your eyes, the dam would break. You stood directly in front of him. You placed your hands on either side of his face. And when he finally looked at you… gods, it nearly undid you.

“I don’t need you to be perfect,” you whispered. “I don’t need you to be strong. I need you to choose me. Not like this. Not in blood. Not in screams. Just choose me by staying. By trying.”

His breathing was ragged now.

“I love you,” you whispered. “But I don’t know if I’ll survive watching you become the kind of monster that thinks this is love.”

You leaned your forehead against his. And then, quietly: “Please. Don’t go.”

For a single heartbeat, the bond held still. Then his hands rose. Not to pull you in, but to gently remove yours from his face.

“If I have to carry the weight of every soul in this world to keep you alive,” Jinu said, his voice hoarse but resolute, “then I’ll do it with a smile.”

You blinked. Your hands dropped like stones. Your body stepped back without you even realizing. Like those words pushed you off the edge you were so desperately trying to balance on. You stared at him. And something inside you cracked… slow and agonizing. That shattered you.

“Fine,” you rasped, stepping back. “Then go. Just go. Burn the world down if it makes you feel better. I hope you win your stupid awards.” You turned on your heel, back toward the guest room, your shoulders trembling.

Seoha called after you. “Wait—wait, Y/N—please, that’s not what we—”

You spun. “What?! That’s not what you meant? Then what do you mean, Seoha? That you love me so much you’d rather be feared than be without me? That your love only knows how to consume?”

“I’d rather be hated and have you alive than worshipped and lose you,” he choked.

Your heart thudded. You stormed back into the guest room, wiping your tears with the heel of your palm. Haneul and Hwimori followed.

“Please—” Hwi started.

“Don’t,” you snapped. “I get it. You’ve made your choice. Now I’ll make mine. Go.”

And that’s when Seoha noticed it. Your bag. Partially packed. The glint of a glossy gold edge sticking out from the zipper. His breath caught. You noticed and you moved to cover it from his view, subtly. But it was too late.

Seoha’s eyes darkened. He leaned in and whispered something to Haneul. Haneul’s eyes widened, then he left, hurried and quiet, to tell the others.

Seoha remained behind, kneeling before you. “You can hate me all you want,” he said. “But we’re doing this for you. Even from yourself.”

You opened your mouth, confused, but then Jinu entered the room. Followed by Seungho. Then Haneul. Then Hwi. They all stood in front of you like shadows. Like a wall.

Jinu’s voice was cold. “You’re staying here.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not leaving this apartment,” Seungho said, eyes flat.

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t stop me.”

“We can,” Jinu said. Quiet. And that was worse.

You stepped back, heart hammering. “I said I won’t leave, okay? Isn’t that enough?”

They all looked at you like they didn’t believe a word of it.

“Go,” you whispered. “Just go already. You’ve made up your minds.”

The tension in the room knotted like a stormcloud, pressing into your lungs, your spine, your soul. They didn’t want to do this, but they would. Because they believed it would save you.

You sat down on the edge of the bed. Head bowed. Shoulders shaking. You couldn’t bear to look at them. Jinu walked forward. You saw only the hem of his shirt, the faint glint of his belt buckle, the rise and fall of his chest. He knelt. You didn’t look up. You just felt the kiss he pressed to the crown of your head.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice low and breaking. “Even if you hate us for this. Even if we burn. I’d rather burn a thousand times than have to bury you once more.”

He stood, and one by one, reluctantly, they left.

The sound of the front door closing echoed like a tomb sealing shut.

You sat there, alone. Tears sliding down your cheeks in silence. You were left there, crying once again on the bed.

The silence of the apartment pressed in like water flooding your lungs, like time itself had stopped in mourning. The distant click of the door closing behind them echoed endlessly in your head. A requiem. A closing prayer.

They left. They really left.

You curled into yourself, arms wrapped tight around your knees, body trembling in the aftermath. The bond between you and them didn’t dim, but gods, it felt like it frayed. Like a red thread stretched too far and pulled too taut.

Derpy whimpered low beside the bed, nudging your hand with his damp nose. The magpie cooed mournfully from the window ledge. Their presence was warm and heavy beside you, like a weighted blanket on your chest. You reached a shaking hand to stroke Derpy’s fur, brushing the spot between his wide, eerie eyes.

“I tried,” you whispered, voice cracked and broken. “I really tried…”

You looked them in the eye. You begged. You touched their faces with every ounce of trembling hope you had left. And still… they said no.

After everything, their priority was still you. Always you. And maybe that should’ve been comforting. But it wasn’t. Because what comfort is there in a love that burns everything down in your name?

What solace is there in being adored so fiercely it suffocates?

Their love wrapped around you like vines, lush, blooming, and beautiful, but tightening with every step you took away from them. A garden and a cage. You were their heartbeat. Their reason. Their undoing. And now… they were going to become monsters for you. Willingly.

You stopped crying eventually. Only because your body had run out of tears. Still trembling, you rose and padded into the kitchen barefoot. The apartment was pristine. Every surface spotless. Everything in its place.

Except you.

You sat quietly and ate the congee Haneul had made, lukewarm now, but still comforting in a way that hurt. You imagined him in the kitchen that morning, carefully ladling it into the bowl while the others argued. Still thinking of you. Still putting you first, even when the worst part of him knew he might never see you again without blood on his hands.

You forced yourself to finish it in silence. You owed him that much.

You washed your bowl and dried your hands, padding back into your room like a ghost. You took a shower, the heat of the water droplets soothing what mess your face must’ve been at the moment. You got out and got dressed, drying your hair in an attempt to look as presentable as you possibly could after everything.

Your eyes drifted to your bag and there it was. The golden envelope, shining like guilt. Your fingers hovered above the zipper.

What would happen to them? Huntrix? You knew for sure they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

You pulled the invitation out slowly. Its weight felt heavier than it should’ve. Like it knew it could tip the balance of everything.

Could you do it? Go to the awards? Get in the way? Stop the soul harvest? Could you really face them again, knowing that you might have to choose between them and everyone else? You weren’t a hunter. You weren’t a demon. You weren’t powerful like them or strategic like Rumi or fearless like Zoey and Mira. You were just… you.

And still. You had to try. You had to at least try.

Because if they went through with it and you hadn’t given your all… if you’d just let them go and waited here like a good little doll, then their sins would become yours, too. The guilt would eat you alive.

No. You wouldn’t be complicit in this. You would do everything you could. Because you loved them. Gods, you loved them. But love wasn’t supposed to cost the world. And maybe, just maybe, if you showed up, if you stood there in the middle of it all, it would stop them.

Maybe they wouldn’t be able to do it with you watching. Maybe they'd choose you and the world.

You folded the invitation and tucked it gently into your bag. Your fingers lingered on the zipper, then you turned. Derpy sat by the door, tilting his head at you. The magpie flapped over and landed on your shoulder, pecking once at your hair gently.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice thick. “I shouldn’t go. They asked me to stay. But…” You crouched down to scratch behind Derpy’s ears. “I have to. I’m sorry.”

He let out a low growl, almost like a whimper. You rose and walked slowly to the front door. Hand trembling, you grabbed the knob and turned it.

Nothing.

Your brow furrowed. You tried again. Twisting it harder. Pushing, pulling. Still nothing.

“What…?”

You jiggled it harder. Yanked at it with both hands. Panic rising like bile in your throat. Then suddenly, a soft hum filled the air. A ripple of magenta light pulsed from the door like a drop in water. A shimmering shield spread outward in concentric circles, glowing faintly before fading again. Your heart stopped.

“No,” you whispered. “No, no, no—”

You yanked harder, kicked at the wood, slammed your fists into it. Another ripple. Brighter this time.

“No—!”

You pounded again, tears returning with brutal force. “Let me out! Let me out!”

Your foot struck the base of the door hard, pain shooting up your leg, but the door didn’t budge. The magic didn’t even flicker.

“No, no, no—please—”

You turned and ran to the balcony, flinging open the glass—and stopped. The same magenta shimmer encased the entire perimeter. It sparkled in the sunlight like a dome. Beautiful. Deadly. You slammed your hands against the invisible barrier.

“Let me go!”

No answer. You screamed again, this time hoarse, guttural. Your knees buckled. You collapsed to the floor, forehead pressed against the cold tiles, chest heaving in broken sobs.

They had trapped you here for your safety. They had locked you in a gilded cage lined with silken blankets, breakfast congee and forehead kisses. But it was still a cage. You felt like a ghost screaming inside a house that had already moved on without you.

“They locked me in,” you sobbed. “They locked me in.”

You remembered the moment Seoha looked at your bag. The gold invitation had stuck out. That was it. That was the moment they knew.

“That’s what he told them,” you choked. “That’s what they saw.”

You pounded weakly on the shield again, fingers raw. “I should’ve been more careful…” You slumped down, pressing your back to the balcony door, head falling back against the glass.

“Why…?” Your voice broke again, barely a whisper. “Why would you do this to me…?”

Your thoughts spiraled. Their faces. Their love. Their obsession. The way Jinu held your face like you were made of stars and secrets. The way Haneul always tried to soothe. The way Hwi trembled when you hurt. The way Seungho tried to hide his pain behind that cruel quiet. The way Seoha said he’d rather be hated and have you alive.

They meant it. They loved you. So much that they caged you. So much that they chose your life over everyone else’s. And you… You were powerless. You were trapped.

You stared out through the shield toward the sky. Somewhere out there, tonight, people would die. People you’d never meet. Lives you’d never know. Because of you. Because they chose you.

And no matter how tightly you wrapped your arms around yourself, you couldn’t hold that weight.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You had cried yourself raw hours ago. Now there was nothing left. Just a dull ache sitting inside your chest like a storm cloud that refused to rain.

You sat curled into the corner of the couch, knees hugged to your chest, eyes red and puffy, throat dry from silent sobs that had long since stopped clawing their way out. The apartment hadn’t changed. It was still warm, still soft, still falsely kind. But now it felt like a holding cell. A beautiful prison.

Derpy was curled against your legs, his breath steady and heavy like a tired drum. The magpie nuzzled into your shoulder, feathers ruffling as if he could sense the throb in your chest. They didn’t leave you.

But everyone else did.

Your demons… they were gone. Off to burn the world in your name. You didn’t know what time it was anymore. All you knew was that somewhere, right now, the Idol Awards were beginning. Somewhere, the girls were backstage. Somewhere, the boys were hiding in the shadows with blood on their hands and the fate of hundreds of souls hanging in their decision.

You clenched your jaw, fingers twitching against your knees. What were they going to do? Would they really go through with it? Would Huntrix be safe? You stared at your phone lying facedown on the coffee table. And then… slowly… you reached for it.

Your screen lit up with a soft glow that stung your eyes. The thumbnail of the Idol Awards livestream blinked at you like a warning sign. A window into the world you were no longer allowed to touch.

Your thumb hovered over it… and then tapped.

The screen opened. Bright. Loud. Chaotic. Your breath hitched. The stadium was packed wall to wall. A tidal wave of people. Thousands of fans cheering, holding glow sticks in shades of magenta and gold. The stage lights danced, cutting across the sea of movement. Two massive banners stretched across the main screen: Huntrix’s glittering emblem on the left, the Saja Boys' sleek sigil on the right.

Clips from Golden and Soda Pop played on loop, and the announcer’s voice boomed over the crowd: “Tonight, two of the hottest idol groups battle for the number one spot. Who will take home the crown?”

You swallowed thickly. Your heart was pounding, each beat echoing like footsteps in an empty hallway. You didn’t realize until now… you never heard the boys’ Idol Awards song in full. They never played it for you.

Why?

A knot tightened in your stomach. Was the song part of their ritual? What would it sound like?

The announcer’s voice called out again. “Please welcome to the stage… the Saja Boys!”

The screams that erupted from the crowd were deafening. “Saja Boys! Saja Boys!”

You clutched the edge of the couch cushion, your breath snagging. Your chest ached. They were loved. So loved. Thousands chanting their name with joy in their voices, never knowing what kind of monsters they were about to witness. Or maybe never knowing at all.

But the stage remained dark. No one appeared. You sat up straighter, heart stumbling. What was going on? Was this part of the plan? Were they late? Hiding?

“Okay…” the host said, voice faltering. “There’s been… a slight change in schedule.”

Your stomach dropped. No. No, no, no.

“Here to perform their hot new single, Golden, please welcome… Huntrix!”

“What…?” you whispered, eyes widening. Why weren’t the boys on stage? Were they planning to sabotage them? You stared as the lights dimmed. And then… Three figures emerged from the fog. You recognized them instantly. Mira, Rumi, and Zoey. They glowed under the spotlight, breathtaking and fierce. The crowd roared again as they took their positions. The familiar intro of their song, Golden began to play.

“I was a ghost, I was alone…”

Rumi’s voice soared through the air, sweet and powerful, steady as a siren call. Her pitch was pristine, every note wrapped in gold. Their choreography snapped like lightning, sharp, commanding, flawless. They were magnificent. And yet, you watched with bated breath, a tightness crawling up your spine.

Their eyes darted across the crowd as they danced. Scanning. Looking. Were they looking for you? Guilt curled low in your gut. You never messaged them. Never told them you weren’t coming anymore. You just didn’t show. Your throat tightened.

Rumi hit her high note, spinning beneath the spotlight. “We’re going up, up, up—it’s our moment—”

She reached up and grabbed a golden ring descending from above. It lifted her gracefully into the air as she sang, her voice unwavering, her smile radiant. The audience erupted, and you couldn’t help it. After all the pain of the day, you smiled too. Just a little. Just for a second.

But then… as she sank back down and twisted to stand at the edge of the stage, belting that final note of the chorus, the lights cut out.

You froze. Was this part of the routine? A pause. Silence. The crowd murmured, confused. And then— A new beat. Louder. Darker. Sharper. You straightened on the couch. Was this a new song? You hadn’t heard this intro before…

“Takedown, Takedown, Take-down, down, down, down…”

Your stomach twisted. Something in your gut felt uneasy. This didn’t seem right.

“It’s a takedown!”

The stage lights exploded back on. Mira and Zoey now suddenly stood behind Rumi. The choreography changed. It was jagged. Threatening. Aggressive. But Rumi—Rumi looked confused. Her smile faltered.

You leaned forward, heart hammering in your ears. What was happening?

“So sweet, so easy on the eyes,

but hideous on the inside

Whole life spreading lies,

but you can't hide, baby, nice try”

The lyrics hit you like ice water. You blinked. These weren’t just aggressive, they were vicious. You watched as Zoey shoved Rumi. Then Mira. They circled her, threateningly. And then you knew that this… was definitely not part of the performance they planned.

Rumi stumbled slightly, eyes darting around. You could see it. The panic bleeding through her poise. What the hell was going on?

“And I see your real face, and it’s ugly as sin,

Time to put you in your place 'cause you're rotten within”

Your blood ran cold. They were attacking her on stage. Publicly. You watched in horror as Zoey gripped the edge of Rumi’s glittering jacket.

“When your patterns start to show,

It makes the hatrеd wanna grow outta my veins”

She yanked it down. First one sleeve, then the other. You saw it. Just a glimpse. And it was enough to make your heart stop. Violet patterns.

Your hand flew to your mouth as your phone nearly slipped from your fingers. Rumi’s arms, marked in the same magenta and violet etchings you knew too well. She had demon marks.

No. No—no, that wasn’t possible.

"I don't think you're ready for thе takedown, Break you into pieces in a world of pain, 'cause you're all the same”

Rumi was a hunter. She was one of them. Wasn’t she? What the hell were you looking at? She stumbled backward, desperate to cover herself. Her hands trembled. Her face was twisted in anguish.

“Yeah, it's a takedown A demon with no feelings, don't deserve to live, it's so obvious"

"...I'ma gear up and take you down"

Mira and Zoey whispered something in Rumi’s ear. Rumi shook her head violently, eyes welling. You could barely breathe. You had a strong feeling she didn’t know this would happen. She didn’t want this.

And then it happened. The music twisted and glitched for a second. And Rumi—Rumi screamed.

“NO!!!”

The lights shattered. The audio cut. A scream so raw it pierced the barrier between performance and reality. Glass broke. And then, under a single surviving spotlight, you saw it.

Her body glowing. Her face twisted in fear. The same patterns the boys bore, exactly the same, etched across her skin. Her chest. Her neck. Her cheek. Pulsing violet and magenta.

A demon. Just like them.

You sat there in stunned silence, hand pressed to your lips, frozen in time. Rumi…

What the hell just happened?

TO BE CONTINUED

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A/N: Wahhh guys, the action, the tension! It's building! I'm sorry for the angst, but I wanted to make the reader's emotions as real as possible. Her reactions and decisions. I also wanted to emphasize how limited our options are. How all we can do is beg because let's be real- we're just a girl, not a hunter, not a demon... all we could do at this moment is the best we can muster. Our inherent nature is goodness, and I wanted to tackle this inner conflict of us having to deal with demons who love us so much that they're willing to do evil and bad things in our name. It's not an easy situation at all.

I also wanted to emphasize Huntrix's relationship with one another. Zoey and Mira trust Rumi, and that's what's going to make the big reveal of her being a demon 10x harder. The scene where they accept what she's up to and offer to help - I feel like I needed to write it out this way to make the betrayal sting a bit more and emphasize that in the next chapter. With that all said, thank you for reading as always!

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!

Willa x.

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