Chapter Text
Liar
Mistake
Demon
MOSNTER
Those words echoed in Rumi’s mind, looping endlessly like a curse she couldn’t escape. The scene played over and over, her girls. Oh, her beautiful girls, her soulmates, her everything.
Their love bound not just by desire, but by something deeper, older, like the honmoon itself had woven them together, they were made for each other. They had been her light, her home, the place where her heart had finally learned to rest. In their arms, she had found peace; in their eyes, she had seen forever. And now, that forever felt shattered, the look in their eyes, etched with betrayal so sharp it made her breath catch.
Through the honmoon, through their bond, she felt it — what was once warm and steady, it now pulsed with hurt, it wailed and wept, a wave of soft blue hue trembling around them.
She could feel Mira’s fury burning through the memory — wild, untamed, heartbreak wrapped in fire. It wasn’t just anger; it was pain, raw and unforgiving.
And Zoey — hers was quieter, more restrained, but no less powerful. Sorrow clung to her like fog, thick with confusion and hurt. Both had trusted her.
"Please, I can still fix this, fix me.." Rumi wept, taking a hesitant step towards the two
"Just give me a chance, I can-"
Rumi's eyes widened as a familiar glow formed around Mira’s hands. Her fingers reached into the threads of the honmoon, weaving through them with purpose. The honmoon cried out in protest, quaking under the storm of her emotion — but it could not deny its hunter. It had no choice but to grant her wish.
No
Deafening silence surrounds them.
The Gok-Do faintly glows as it's pointed towards Rumi.
You deserve this, liar.
Rumi staggered, eyes brimming with tears. She looked to Zoey, but Zoey didn’t meet her halfway. The rapper’s gaze stayed fixed downwards, unable to meet Rumi’s.
"Zoey.....please..."
The honmoon trembled as Zoey reached into its threads, her touch uncertain. Love warred with doubt in her chest, but still, the weapon began to form — slow, reluctant, the honmoon ached with the same sorrow she carried.
SNAP
Rumi felt it shatter.
The pain was immediate, sharp, like something tearing through her chest, the threads connecting her to Mira and Zoey disappeared.
Her breath caught, and her hands trembled, grasping for something invisible slipping through her fingers.
Then nothing.
No warmth. No presence. Nothing. She reached for Mira, for Zoey — but felt no trace of them in her soul. No emotion. No love. Just emptiness where they used to be.
And she did what she did best.
She ran.
Like a coward, her legs carried her away, from the two hunters, from Mira and Zoey, from her girls.
And if she’d been thinking clearly, she might’ve noticed that Mira wasn’t gripping her Gok-Do properly, that Zoey was only holding two of her Shin-Kal instead of all six.
But Rumi didn’t notice.
Rumi didn’t know better.
The sun hung gently overhead, casting a warm, golden glow across the open grassland.
The breeze was soft — just enough to stir the tall grass and make the cloth tied to the old tree behind the gravestone flutter like lazy ribbons in the air. The hanok stood in the distance, quiet and still, its silhouette resting comfortably in the light.
Celine knelt before the grave, a small bundle of white lilies in her hands.
She moved with care, brushing away fallen leaves and flecks of dust from the stone’s surface.
Her fingers lingered over the carved name.
Ryu Mi-yeong
Her heart was filled not with sorrow, but with something gentler.
Reverence.
Love.
Celine placed the small bundle of lilies into a vase on the left side of the gravestone. Another vase stood on the right, mirroring its position. Both were worn by time, but clean — cared for by the woman who returned again and again.
Flower beds flanked each side of the gravestone, nestled beside the vases.
To a passerby, it might seem excessive, too many flowers, too much care for a single grave.
But for Celine, it was never enough.
Not for Mi-yeong.
Not for the other half of her soul
If she could, she would’ve given her everything.
"This place is very precious to me…"
Her train of thought was cut short when a small, petite child,
maybe seven or eight years old
came running toward her, her slick, braided hair shining under the sun. She wore a dark red dress that fell just above her knees, the fabric catching the light with each step. A green cloth headband was tied snugly around her head, its ends poking upward like soft, floppy ears, bouncing with every step she took.
"Rumi!"
Celine yelped, stumbling a step backward as Rumi collided with her.
She was ready to scold the girl, but when she looked down, she was met with a pouting Rumi, her eyes wide and shining like a pleading puppy. Rumi let out a small whine, puffing her cheeks in a dramatic attempt to win sympathy.
"Am I not precious to you?" Rumi asked
With a playful sigh, Celine ruffled Rumi’s hair, which only made the girl whine louder. She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest as she exaggeratedly turned away from Celine.
“Hmph!” Rumi huffed, loud and dramatic.
Celine could faintly hear the honmoon humming in delight, its soft blue threads glowing gently beneath her feet. The strands pulsed with quiet amusement, its tune light and playful, the melody curled through the air like laughter, as if it, too, found joy in their little moment.
Celine let out a quiet chuckle at Rumi’s dramatic pout. Reaching out with her left hand, she rested it gently on the girl's shoulder, guiding her to face the grave. Then, without a word, she drew Rumi into a warm half-embrace, holding her close.
"Don't be silly Rumi" Celine murmured with an affectionate huff, the corners of her lips curving in a fond smile
"Of course you are the most precious person in my life"
Rumi hummed in satisfaction, giggling softly as she melted into the touch, her small hand gripping the fabric of Celine’s pants.
It's your fault
It's your fault Mi-yeong is gone
You weren't strong enough
"Celine…..please.."
YOU KILLED HER
"Rake care of Rumi…."
SHE'S GONE BECAUSE OF YOU
"Protect our precious Rumi…"
"Promise me…"
KILLER
"I love you Celine"
Celine’s breath hitched as she was abruptly pulled from the depths of her thoughts. Her heart still raced from the shadows of memory, the weight of it clinging to her chest.
But when she looked down, she found Rumi gazing up at her with the brightest smile she had ever seen. Her eyes sparkled, filled with nothing but love and pure, unshaken admiration.
All of Celine’s thoughts vanished in an instant.
She reached out and ruffled Rumi’s hair — gently this time, her touch full of care, full of warmth.
Then she smiled down at Rumi, a real smile, warm, unforced, and genuine.
The kind of smile she could never fake.
Love.
Oh so full of love.
"I love you too, Rumi"
Suddenly, Rumi pulled Celine into a hug, or at least, the best hug a small child could manage.
Her tiny arms wrapped around Celine just below the waist, tugging the older woman closer until her chin rested against Celine’s abdomen.
With a cheeky grin, she muttered, "Now take me to the teddy bear museum."
Celine chuckled quietly, taking Rumi’s hand as they stepped away from the place they both held close, a space filled with quiet conversations, remembered warmth, and the lingering presence of someone they loved.
"Okay okay, let's go now. I don't think I can handle any more of your tantrums"
"HEY!"
They weren't able to go to the Teddy bear museum.
Celine was at the estate when it happened.
The sun had long dipped beneath the horizon, leaving the grassland cloaked in quiet darkness.
A faint breeze stirred the tall grass, its soft rustle the only sound in the stillness.
The cloth strips tied to the old tree behind the gravestone fluttered gently, barely visible in the dim light, like ghostly ribbons dancing in slow motion.
The hanok stood farther back — quiet, unmoving — its silhouette blending into the night, a familiar shape resting under the darkened sky.
And beneath it all, the honmoon lingered, a presence both seen and felt.
Faint, glowing threads stretched across the ground, weaving through the roots of the old tree, curling gently around the base of the hanok like mist.
Its soft blue hue pulsed calmly, as though breathing with the land itself , timeless, steady, and watching.
Celine had just finished tidying the area and replacing the flowers beside Mi-yeong’s gravestone. She hummed a soft tune as she worked, a quiet routine she’d grown used to over the years.
Visit Mi-yeong at least four times a week.
Replace the flowers before they wilt.
Water the flower beds once a week.
Always keep the gravestone clean.
It was the least she could do.
"Hey love"
"Sorry I'm late today, I was busy talking to Bobby for the preparations of Huntix's Idol Awards"
With a tired smile, Celine slowly knelt before the familiar resting place, incense sticks in hand. She lit one using the small candle flickering nearby, shielding the flame from the wind with her fingers.
The tip glowed a soft orange before settling into a slow burn. Gently, she placed it into the holder, watching as the slender stick stood upright, its smoke curling upward in delicate, wavering trails.
"I was planning to go to the idol awards this year…." Celine confessed, her voice quiet but steady.
She lowered her gaze for a moment, brushing ash from her fingertips "I know I haven’t attended any of the idol awards since their first one, but…" Her lips pressed together in a faint, almost reluctant smile.
"I think….they'll be able to achieve the golden honmoon this time"
Her eyes softened, the corners crinkling with a tender warmth. "It's kind of funny too, because the song they're performing is called Golden .” A small chuckle escaped her, fragile but genuine. She tilted her head towards the grave though sharing a private joke. “Get it? Because it’s the golden honeymoon and —"
Celine sighed, trailing off. The words felt silly out loud.
She gave up, suddenly embarrassed for even trying to explain it.
Celine turned her gaze toward the night sky, stars shining brightly above. “Anyways…” she
murmured, her voice trailing off with the breeze. "I'm sorry," Her lips pressed together after the words slipped out, as if she wished she could take them back, yet the heaviness in her eyes betrayed how deeply she meant them.
"It's been a few months since I last spoke to Rumi. I-" Celine stopped, brow furrowing slightly as she gathered her thoughts. Her hand gripped her arm, a quiet gesture to center herself. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise," she said softly, her eyes fixed on the name carved in stone. The words caught in her throat, heavy with guilt.
She closed her eyes and drew a slow, steady breath. When she opened them, her gaze settled softly on the letters etched deep into the stone — Ryu Mi-yeong.
It was as if she wasn’t just reading a name, but searching for her eyes, hoping to meet Mi-yeong’s gaze.
“She doesn’t need me anymore,” Celine admitted quietly. Her lips curved into a sad smile, the kind that fought to hide the crack in her voice. “I don’t think she has… not for a long time now.” Her hand brushed lightly over the cold stone, fingers trembling as if she could reach through it.
Celine gave a short, brittle laugh, one that carried no real humor. It was the kind of laugh meant to cover a wound, sharp and aching beneath the sound. “After all…”
"She has the girls, her girls "
Suddenly, she heard the honmoon cry, its threads trembling violently. A sharp pull tugged at her chest, as if the strings were inside her.
She lurched forward, one hand catching the grass to steady herself, the other clutching at her chest.
Though her bond with the honmoon had weakened and rarely did she summon her starlight weapon after the next generation of hunters got stronger, the weapon still responded in moments of desperation — the connection hadn’t vanished.
She was still tied to it, still able to see it, still able to feel it.
As the tightness in her chest began to ease, the honmoon wailed again.
Its once soft blue glow began to shift, slowly turning reddish purple, until the honmoon was completely consumed by the bleeding hue.
“No…”
Celine stood up at once, grabbing her sickle from where it rested nearby before rushing toward the large, ancient tree. Her breath caught as she looked up — its bark was now draped in the wounded threads of the honmoon, glowing with that bleeding, broken light.
"It's being torn apart…"
He lied.
Jinu lied.
"The things I said? I just needed you to trust me"
How could he do this?
"You're a demon, just like me"
Demon
A mistake
Rumi walked without purpose, her feet dragging across the grass as if the world had gone quiet around her.
With every step, the honmoon tore beneath her — glowing threads once soft and sacred now unraveling in her wake like veins splitting open.
The pale blue light bled into shades of red and purple, each tear a wound, each mark a cry.
She didn’t notice at first, or maybe she did and simply didn’t care.
Her mind was too full, too loud.
Jinu lied.
Mira and Zoey hated her.
The honmoon was breaking.
Gwi-ma.
Memories, mistakes, regrets — all colliding inside her like waves that wouldn’t stop crashing. They lost. She failed. Everything was ruined.
And it was her fault. Because she trusted the wrong person. Because she hid from the truth. Because she lied to the only people who loved her.
Because she was born wrong.
The noise in her head quieted only when her eyes landed on a familiar shape, a single white lily, blooming alone in the dark.
It seemed to glow beneath the moonlight, soft and luminous, as if untouched by the chaos around it. It shone like the moon itself, calm and unwavering.
Only then did she realize where she was — where her feet, unconsciously, had brought her.
"Mom…" she choked out, the word breaking apart in her throat. Her knees hit the dirt with a harsh, unforgiving thud, but she didn’t feel it — didn’t care about the scrapes already forming, or the bruises that would bloom later.
All she could do was sob, hands digging into the ground as if she could claw her way back to the warmth she’d lost.
The rough path leading to the gravestone blurred through her tears, but the pain in her chest was sharp, merciless, real.
"I failed, Mom…" Rumi’s voice trembled, barely more than a whisper as her shoulders shook with each sob.
She pressed her forehead to the ground, her fingers curling into the dirt like it could anchor her to something — anything.
"The honmoon you worked so hard to protect…" She gasped for air between her words, her chest tight, the taste of salt on her lips.
"The one you died for…" Her voice cracked.
"It's broken."
She looked up at the gravestone through tear-blurred eyes, as if expecting it to answer, to tell her she was wrong.
But the silence only made the truth louder.
Her head dropped again, and she crumbled fully — curling into herself, small and shaking, like a child who couldn’t be saved.
"I…" The rest caught in her throat. She didn’t know what to say to a mother she had never met, no memories to reach for, no stories to fall back on. Yet, despite everything, all she had was an ache in her chest, the truth that refused to stay silent.. "I miss you," Rumi whispered, her voice barely holding together.
It was almost laughable — how could you miss someone you’ve never even had the chance to remember?
But she did.
With every part of her. A longing carved into her bones, for a mother she never got to know.
For a love she only felt in dreams she couldn't hold onto when she woke.
Beneath her, the honmoon trembled — its threads fraying, the soft blue glow now streaked with deep red and purpling veins, like open wounds struggling to mend. It was breaking. She could feel it — each thread pulled thin, unraveling under the weight of too much sorrow, too many shattered bonds.
And yet.
It reached for her.
Despite its pain, despite the cracks running through its essence, the honmoon still pulsed faintly beneath her hands, a gentle warmth weaving through the bruised light.
It wrapped around her like a memory, like a mother’s hand — soft, steady, and silent.
"I miss you," she said again, quieter this time, hoping the honmoon might carry it across the void.
One last message from a daughter to a mother she never truly met.
"I love you"
Rumi slowly rose from where she had crumbled, knees aching, face streaked with dirt. Soil clung beneath her fingernails, etched deep into her skin like guilt she couldn’t wash away.
Her eyes drifted to the white lilies nearby. They were fresh and clean, their petals still damp with morning dew. Untouched. New.
Then she turned her gaze to the gravestone — no, to her mother.
Three sticks of incense stood before it, halfway burned, but still alive. Thin, steady streams of smoke curled upward, swaying gently in the breeze like whispers that hadn’t yet faded.
"Celine was here," Rumi murmured.
She knew what she had to do.
With a newfound determination, she began to steady herself. Her mind, once drowning in noise, was finally quiet.
No more screams of hurt, pain, shame, or guilt.
There was only one thing left now: a final mission.
One last chance to face the failures she could no longer hide.
One last chance to face the faults she could never escape.
One last chance to fix the mistakes she would carry to the end.
And Celine is the only one that could help her.
The honmoon wept — its light trembling like a wounded heartbeat, mourning what it already knew was coming.
Rumi bounced with joy as she waited by the door for Celine. She rocked on her tiptoes and back to her heels, repeating the motion again and again, her arms swinging eagerly at her sides.
She wore a bear-like hoodie, soft and fluffy and brown, with a hood that sported a pair of round, plush ears. The fabric nearly swallowed her small frame, wrapping her in warmth and excitement. She also wore a black skirt that fell to her knees, somehow matching the cute hoodie in a way only Rumi could pull off.
She had first learned about the teddy bear museum a few weeks ago. It happened after she and Celine had finished grocery shopping and were on their way back home.
Rumi had been a few steps ahead of Celine, a bag of apples hugged tightly against her chest as she skipped along the familiar path. The village around them buzzed with life — cheerful vendors calling out, laughter spilling from open doors. The sun was setting, casting everything in a warm, golden glow.
She had been nagging Celine about the teddy bear museum almost every day since that afternoon. The flyer the mascot had given her never left her nightstand. A little worn at the edges now, but still bright. Every night before bed, she would pick it up and stare at it for a few quiet minutes, smiling to herself, dreaming.
She remembered it so clearly.
By the time Celine stepped out of her room that morning, Rumi had already crafted an entire plan for the day — a perfectly timed adventure with stops for snacks, photo spots, and, of course, the grand finale: building her very own teddy bear. Maybe even one for Celine too, if they had time.
"Are you ready?"
Rumi nodded enthusiastically. "Yep!" she chirped, popping the P with exaggerated cheer.
Celine chuckled softly as she stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder before turning the doorknob.
As they stepped outside, the honmoon pulsed with a low, trembling warning. A wave of deep purple rippled through the threads, starting from somewhere near the village. It moved toward them, skimming along the earth, then passed beneath their feet like a cold shiver.
"Was that…?" Rumi asked, her voice tinged with worry.
Celine had taught her about the honmoon when she was only four, after she'd pointed to the glowing blue lines on the ground that no one else seemed to see. She told her about the demons, the other hunters she would one day meet, and the bond that tied them all together.
Rumi had been confused at first, but she trusted Celine. Since then, she'd waited — waited to feel whatever it was Celine meant.
She never truly understood it.
Not until now.
She had never encountered a demon herself, but Celine had promised she’d know. If something ever broke through the honmoon, she’d feel it.
And now, she has.
"Yes."
Celine turned to face Rumi and slowly knelt down, meeting her at eye level. Her grip on Rumi’s arm was firm but gentle, her expression serious.
"Listen to me, dear. You’re to stay here and wait for me while I deal with the demons, okay?"
"I want to jo—"
"No."
Celine cut in sharply, already knowing what Rumi was about to say. She softened her tone, but not her stance.
"This is serious, Rumi. Demons are dangerous. Maybe one day, when you're ready… but not today."
She held Rumi’s gaze.
"Stay. Got it?"
Rumi didn’t look satisfied, but she nodded anyway.
“Okay…” she murmured, her voice low, her gaze downcast.
With a small smile, Celine brushed her fingers across Rumi’s cheek. “Good. I’ll be back quickly, and then we’ll go to the teddy bear museum.”
She stood in one swift motion and took off running toward the source of the pulse.
Rumi’s sadness faded, replaced by awe. She had never seen Celine run like that — swift and focused, almost weightless.
With every step, the honmoon lit up in brilliant blue beneath her feet, as if she were riding its threads like waves, carried forward by light itself.
Suddenly, a realization hit her. Rumi cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted in Celine’s direction, “So you were always letting me win at tag?!”
She stomped her foot, baffled and angry, though only playfully.
From the distance, she heard Celine’s joyous laugh echo back.
One arm raised in a wave, her back turned to Rumi, she continued to run, growing smaller and smaller, until Rumi couldn’t see her anymore.
“Unbelievable,” Rumi muttered, shaking her head with a small smile as she turned and headed back inside the hanok.
Click!
Rumi was stirred awake by the sound of the front door opening. Groggy and disoriented, the child slowly pushed herself up from the couch where she had fallen asleep. She glanced at the wall clock above the television.
2:34 a.m.
With a pout, she huffed, "You said you'd be quick," she mumbled, her voice low and sulky as she stared toward the open door.
Still sulking, she added under her breath, "I trusted you, y'know…"
But when no response came, the whine in her voice faded into unease.
She stood up from the couch, now fully facing the door.
"Celine?" she called out, voice quieter this time.
All of a sudden, a hand gripped the doorframe — but it wasn’t the slender, well-kept hand Rumi was expecting.
It was coated in red, trembling, fingers digging into the wood as if it took every ounce of strength just to stay upright.
Rumi froze.
Celine stepped inside, but the woman who always carried herself with perfect posture was gone.
She was limping, hunched forward, one arm clutched tightly around her abdomen. Her gaze was dazed, unfocused.
She didn’t even notice Rumi at first.
It was clear: she was using the last of her strength just to stay conscious.
"Celine!"
In an instant, Rumi rushed forward, her small feet pounding against the floor as she raced to her side.
Just as she reached her, Celine’s eyes fluttered shut. Her grip on the doorframe slipped, and her body gave out.
She collapsed.
Straight into Rumi’s arms.