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The midnight is barren. The Seoul skyline is awfully bright with lights as Rumi steps onto the balcony overlooking the metropolis. Mira and Zoey had been busy mapping the rest of the newly-made Honmoon from their window, so she had taken the chance to step out by herself and get a breath of fresh air.
The sight before her is a good one. Rumi has always loved the way the metro twinkled like stars, but the view is not the only thing she has to appreciate tonight. In the streets down below, she can hear melodies of their latest releases reverberating across nightclubs and neighborhood parties. Mash-ups on the radio, remixes for video edits on online music platforms, acoustic guitar covers — the golden threads that protected the human world were stronger than ever.
That was one of the best things about being an idol: knowing that you had the ability to make total strangers happy by just existing. To the fans, they were angels. Ironic, because part of her is the exact opposite. Angels shouldn’t be able to touch demons, yet here she is, oftentimes feeling as though she’d fallen from celestia.
In the gaze of those fun, colorful lights, the burning image of pained, dark eyes sears through Rumi’s vision and she flinches. It is impossible to enjoy the city sights now. Though it reminds her how beautiful it was to do what she does, it’s also a cruel warning that even if she could save humanity, she could not save everyone.
Even demons deserve second chances. Rumi is the living proof of that.
Slowly, she summoned her sword. It glows aquamarine in her nimble hands. It has considerably grown in size since Gwi-Ma’s defeat. Months have passed and HUNTR/X is yet to face evil demons — they were banished from the world, as they should be.
The sword’s glow reflects on the jagged purple lines running up her arms. She could have been banished, too. But Rumi was not evil. Her soul had never been collected. Why should she?
Rumi released a short, strained laugh.
“So why you?”
She talks to the sword to the point it sounds crazed but there is never an answer. Of course not. Almost like when she was a child and she watched an American movie about toys coming to life in secret, but this immobile object in her hands could never respond or beckon her forward. Believe her, she has tried. Still nothing.
Her violet fingers carefully run down the blade, as if to caress the soul trapped within. She could close her eyes, and if her imagination was good enough tonight, she might be able to pretend that it was no refined metal that she held in her hands but instead the skin of the one who needed comfort.
“Jinu,” she whispered. “I know you’re there.”
He had given his soul to her, but what was she to do with it? Her fleshy body cannot withstand two souls residing within. Or maybe it’s not that. Is he in the blade? Does he live through her? Everything is too complicated to understand but the only one who can answer cannot reply.
Rumi’s fingers scale away from the blade, and they ball into a fist that she places over her heart, where she knows Jinu lives too.
“It’s not fair,” she says, sounding cynical now. “You didn’t even give me time to get to know you.”
She feels her heartbeat steadily, pulsing with the song of life that she is lucky enough to live.
“But I know you can still be a good person, if only you were given a better chance,” she whispers more. “But… is it even enough when you’re not here?”
Behind her, the glass door slides open. She jumps, fumbling with the sword’s stopper.
“Rumi?” she hears Mira call, voice laced with concern. “Are you okay?”
“You’ve been staring at the city for ages…” Zoey adds, coming up beside Mira. They are both already dressed for bed, but worry paints their expressions. “We wanted to show you something we found on the map survey. Is it a bad time?”
“It’s nothing,” Rumi says, clearing her throat. She holds out her blade like she is presenting it on two open palms. “Just looking at my sword.”
“It’s gotten a lot different,” Zoey quips. “It’s like a claymore now!”
“Yeah, no demons want to come near it at all,” says Mira. “I guess they’re afraid of…”
She drifts off, but Rumi knows what she wanted to say. She offers them a weak smile, trying to hide the way her deep regret stings.
“It’s okay to say Jinu’s name, you know,” she says. “I mean, a piece of his soul is here. It’s alright.”
It really was not, but she has to look fine. It hurts to think of all that could have been, the relationship they might have had if only they had more time, and it hurts even more to know she is helpless against fate. She can give happiness to anyone on the streets down below, but to do so, she had to sacrifice her own.
Zoey and Mira look at each other, then at Rumi. They began to chorus in a rush:
“Look, Rumi, we’ve been thinking—”
“—we’re kinda concerned—”
“—actually, really worried, Rumi—!”
“—the right word is totally freaking petrified to the bone—”
“Oh, Rumi,” Zoey burst out, “We think we’ve found a way to get Jinu back!”
Her voice echoes throughout the building. Zoey has always had a loud sound both on and off the stage. Rumi looked around wildly, surprised that all of Seoul hadn’t heard what she said. Mira is about to cover Zoey’s mouth with a palm but Rumi quickly jumps in.
“Great sentiment, but a really unrealistic idea,” she says. “He’s gone, Zo.”
“You don’t know that,” says Mira. “We don’t know everything about demons. For all we know, there’s a way to reverse what’s happened.”
As if his being were only a shattered vase that could be pieced back together. But he was not. He was a glass that mirrored Rumi herself. And once the glass shattered, the shards could never be put back the way it was. It just didn’t work that way.
“We saw something, Rumi,” Zoey whispers. “While we were mapping. There’s a tear in the Honmoon right in the middle of the stadium.”
“What?” Rumi exclaims. She raises the sword. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? We need to go out right now and—”
“Wait, let me finish! Yes, there’s a tear, but it’s weird. It’s like a deep, endless chasm in the ground. No humans have been absorbed. There’s no demon activity either. It’s just… there.”
“We think…” Mira begins, looking at Zoey again. The latter nods her head, encouraging her to continue. “I-argh—we think that it’s an entrance to the underworld. Where the demon souls go.”
“Gwi-Ma’s demon kingdom?” Rumi muses, brows knitting together. “But we defeated him.”
“No, not the kingdom. Otherwise, demons would be coming out. It’s like the place where the free souls go—even after death. Kinda like a purgatory.”
“Well, how do we close it? We can’t just let that run amok.”
“I think it’s open for a reason,” Mira says. She hesitates again. “I think… there’s a soul in there that wants you to get it out. Only then will the chasm close.”
Zoey’s voice has suddenly gotten a bit small, like she’s worried. “Rumi… you know what this means… right?”
Rumi’s stomach flips. The sword in her hands feels heavier than ever. She knows what her friends mean. That there is only one way to save the day this time. To go down into the dark depths where even the Honmoon cannot reach.
And yet, a small glimmer of hope breaches through her chest. The idea that this time, she might be able to fix what was broken. That this time, she has a chance to do what she originally wanted to do. To save him.
“Jinu.”
Once again, it’s the middle of the night when they slip past the neon lights of Seoul, jumping tall buildings and strategically covering their faces from the passersby down below, all the way to the stadium grounds.
The lights are on in the stadium, illuminating the football field, but the seats are all empty. They draw their weapons, no one speaking, all stealthily creeping towards the opening in the middle as though expecting a surprise attack from fanged monsters.
Surely enough, there’s a huge tear in the ground that cuts across the mowed grass. Down below is an endless chasm, a pitch-black abyss where stone steps descended in an awkward spiral.
It exhaled a chilly blast of air, and gooseflesh rose across all of their skin. Rumi’s purple lines began to glow, just slightly. Her sword, imbued with Jinu’s life, began to glow brighter in her hands as though itching to reunite with its owner. Now, their quest was certain. The cavern led to the underworld, and they had to find Jinu.
“Your sword’s like a hot potato, Rumi,” comments Mira. “It seems to glow brighter when it knows it's near Jinu himself.”
Jinu, all alone in that dark cavern. Alone? Scared? Helpless? Perhaps not. Rumi knew he was braver than that. Hopeless might be a better term. Nausea swelled in her chest at the thought of him at the low of this awful prison. It was possible that he was surrounded by monsters none of them have ever faced.
“Good,” she says, doing her best to sound braver than she actually feels. “We have a guide, then. Are our provisions ready?”
“Ready!” Zoey says. Her voice is cheery, but everyone can hear how it masks the shake in her tone. “I made sure all of our backpacks are full with healthy food, water, first aid kits, tampons, yummy snacks, and powerbanks—we’ll be totally fine!”
“I don’t think there’s internet in the underworld, Zo,” says Mira. “Our best bet for decent connection down there is Rumi’s sword.”
Rumi shakes her head and adjusts the strap on her backpack. “The point is, we’ll be fine.”
“Totally.”
“You got it!” Zoey adds.
“As long as we’re together,” Rumi says, feeling a wave of love rush over her for her friends. Anything was possible. They were the best team, and they’d always protect each other till the very end.
Peering into the pit, they saw that the staircase was so narrow that it could only fit one person at a time. There was no railing. One wrong move, and they’d be sent tumbling to the endless bottom. A hard fall.
“I’ll lead the way,” says Rumi. She holds her sword out, and watches it glow brighter against her skin. “Jinu gave his soul to me, so I think it’s just appropriate.”
“Fine by me,” Zoey says, unable to fight the quaver in her voice now.
“Be careful, Rumi,” Mira says, preparing to go in after her.
Rumi carefully steps down the stairs until her head is level with ground zero. The sword remains bright as ever. She looks up, fighting the chills running down her spine.
“Okay, it looks fine. You guys can step do—”
The chasm groaned, like a beast waking from slumber. The ground begins to quake and crumble. Giant, jagged rocks jut out from the soil one-by-one, slowly blocking the entrance as they rise.
A small piece of rock bumps against Rumi’s temple, causing her to momentarily black out until she opens her eyes again to her friends screaming as the pit closes in.
“Rumi!” Both Mira and Zoey shout, eyes wide as they scramble towards her with outstretched hands. But as they do, a plume of dust blasts from the chasm, causing them to cough and choke from dust in their eyes and mouths. “Run!”
Rumi scrambles back up the stairs, but it’s too late. Something in the void is trying to pull her down like a magnet that refuses to let her legs move, like the lower half of her body is trying to split her apart. The pit rumbles even louder.
No escape, said a voice in the darkness below. Only demons go to hell.
She can still hear Mira and Zoey screaming her name. Through the narrowing crack in the ground, she can see the full moon peeking behind the clouds, and the sky blanketed with glittering stars — the last natural light she would see for what will be a long time.
The sword in her hand glows brighter, blinding, the source of Jinu’s soul lighting its forsaken path to her.
“Wait for me!” she yells to her friends. “I promise, I’ll be fine!”
Rumi has no idea if they can hear her over the rumbling, but by then, the entrance has finally caved in, and the ground is finally sealed, leaving her shaking and shocked at the top of the spiral staircase.
The earth-shaking ceases all at once. Everything goes silent, as though nothing had happened in the first place. The underworld has trapped her alive.
With nowhere to look but down, Rumi peers into the void, hearing nothing but her panicked breaths. She has no idea if she’s imagining things, but Rumi can almost hear the deep sound of cold, cruel laughter echoing in the darkness. Now, she is alone in a realm of nightmares. And there is nowhere to go but down.
“Jinu.” Rumi finds herself saying his name over and over again, as if he would manifest here and give her any answers. “What have you done?”
Rumi knows how people mourn their lovers. She has heard it in producers’ studios while they churned out languid music production. A lot of fans post videos of themselves lip-syncing sad lyrics they relate to bad times in their lives, like a breakup or a lost dream. They mourn their lovers with vexation, with cunning, with despair, with blood. But how does one mourn an almost?
The Underworld is a cold and dark cavern, but Death is even colder. She descends the spiral staircase with nothing but the Anello on her back and the sword in her hands, feeling the cool air run across her skin. She knows now why coffins are laid to rest in the ground, even if it’s hurtful to the loved ones still alive. The land under is a place where the passed must dwell.
Death is nothing like Gwi-Ma. It’s nothing like the Korean myths’ pantheon of gods and goddesses either. Here, the only certain ruler is Death.
Death is not a reaper with a scythe and a hood. Instead, Death is a formless being that drifts all around her, just as life used to drift across her stadium concerts in the world above. Death is the average middle-class worker who rides the train to the office. Death is a bubbly pop star posing for the cover of a fashion magazine. It is a childhood pet buried in the backyard. Families, friends, enemies, strangers. Or simply a tree in a forest. Death is everything that is alive, because the price of life is certain death.
And Death speaks quietly as a whisper. “Why are you here, Rumi?”
“I am here to bring Jinu back.”
Quiet chuckles echo across the cavern as Rumi descends further like voices whispering. “You are not the first to ask me that, and you will certainly not be the last. Why did you dare to set foot in the underworld? Your presence is meaningless as long as you are alive.”
Rumi slows down, but she does not stop as she gazes at the sword in her hand and says, “Jinu is alive, too. At least, a part of him is, as long as his soul is with mine.”
“Your soul is with your living body. His soul is inside an inanimate sword that you can only ever wield.”
“He is alive as long as I am,” she says defiantly.
“Pathetic and foolish. A long list of great heroes have begged this request from me, and they were certainly not of demonic blood. Why should I treat you with anything but indifference?”
“Jinu’s life is unlike those of the heroes. He has never had the chance to redeem himself, it was only ever suffering under Gwi-Ma. It is why I have been given a chance to keep his soul. There is so much more than he can still do.”
“Jinu is a sinner, and regardless of whether he is a sinner or a saint, death holds him accountable for having life.”
“Please. Death shouldn’t be a prison. Give his soul a chance to be free—to be with me,” Rumi’s voice breaks. “Let him live, and you can take us all in the end. I just want him to have redemption in a world that is kind. Even a demon deserves grace.”
A long silence fills the cavern, with nothing but the sound of her breathing. The underworld is miserable, dark, and empty all poured into a single void. Death is harsh and unbiased, but Death can also be merciful. “I will grant you this request, but only this once.”
Relief floods Rumi’s chest. “I’m so thank—“
“You must follow one condition. Leave the underworld the way you came and do not look back to gaze upon your beloved following you. Should you do so, death will take him and you shall never see your sweetheart again.”
Tongue-tied, she can barely deny Death's claims. "He's not really my—"
"Silence, half-blooded human. No one troops through hell for anyone they do not love."
She knows what admonition sounds like, and holds back all the words she wanted to squeak out. Rumi knows that Death can see right through here, and see the way her face warms with a blood rush that boasted of a life lived in admiration for Jinu himself.
“I understand.”
Death cackles, the sound ringing across the cave. The staircase begins to move, reforming into a pathway.
“Now, leave this place. His soul is no longer in the sword.”
Death disappears in a shower of smoke, and the light in her sword dims.
That is how she knows that he is behind her. Rumi feels around the way she came, and realizes that she has reached the bottom. There is nowhere to go but up.
For a few moments, she takes the time to breathe deeply and try to collect herself, but it’s futile when she hears:
“Well, princess. Looks like you’re stuck here with me.”
Rumi gasps, eyes widening, nearly jumping and turning, but she quickly remembers and doesn't dare to look back.
"Hey, focus. You're getting all worked up."
Jinu and his quips. Collecting herself, she manages to get a few words out, not wanting to throw herself at his feet.
"If anything, you should be the one happy, Jinu," she says, annoyed. "I'm your savior. You should be kneeling and thanking me."
"Just as much of a bossy princess as ever. Do you want me to kiss your hand while I'm at it?"
She rolls her eyes.
“You're so annoying. I go through literal hell for you, and this is how you repay me?” she grumbles. She’s trying to control her joy, but she knows she must hold back. “I might as well turn around right now.”
“Whoooa, let’s not do anything crazy yet," Jinu laughs nervously.
She still cannot allow herself to turn around. "Try me. You're at my mercy, don't forget it."
Rumi can hear him chuckle under his breath in amusement. She is terribly curious what his expression looks like, what his features twisted into, to memorize the lines of his face. But she must never look back or else she will never get the chance.
Jinu speaks.
“Hey…I’m happy to see you too. Truly. It’s been too long without seeing you.”
Rumi's hand twitches. They have to leave this place. She looks up at the journey before her, and takes a deep breath. "Let's go."
She begins to ascend the way she came. It is silent. She cannot hear his footsteps at all, only hers, and she must constantly remind herself that it only a trick of Death because Jinu right now is only a soul and not a body.
But she is worried. What if he isn't there at all, and she had only imagined him? What if it was only another one of Death's tricks? It was possible. Perhaps she had been down for so long that she had conjured the whole thing up. Maybe it was all a delusion.
Rumi badly wants to turn around. But she does not dare to, ever. She's impatient and brash and she wants to look already, just to be sure. She does not know why, but she cannot speak, either, as though the void had swallowed all sound.
Only one thing makes her believe that she is doing the right thing: Rumi can feel Jinu's gaze piercing into her back.
Probably analyzing her clothes, her backpack, her tight braid. What was he thinking? What did he look like when he was looking at her? She badly wanted to see; the thought was so tempting, so delicious. She's itching to turn, but she does not.
She simply has to believe that Jinu is following her and gazing at her. And maybe, just maybe, he is admiring her. Not just for her beauty, but because of her strength and resolve.
Rumi glad that it is dark, because he can’t see the way that her cheeks began to heat up with a shameful blush. Jinu has been alive for centuries and yet only now does he say that it’s been too much time. Not once does she dare to look back.
The underworld’s staircase is sloped with sharp passageways and slippery floors, but each step she takes back to the surface feels lighter and lighter.
Her ears pop. The void has sound again.
“Thank you for freeing my soul,” says Jinu behind her. “You saved me.”
"Oh, good! You can—ahem, that’s more like it."
He snickers. "What if I'm not saved?"
"Not funny. You’re only saved once you’re on the surface, though,” she reminds him. “So don’t slack off on this climb.”
“It wasn’t just the doors of death,” he says seriously. “I thought it wouldn’t be possible for me to be a good person again, but it was. I swear, I’ll be a good person. For you.”
It takes everything in her not to turn around and throw her arms around him, but she does not dare to look back, so instead, Rumi swallows the lump in her throat and silently thanks the pantheon of all deities for the chance she has right now. The cavern no longer feels as empty and dark, even as they quiet into nothingness.
They have all the time to build better trust, to get to know each other more, to learn what the other was like as a normal person. The surface comes to view, and by then, Rumi has already memorized the sound of his light footsteps. She could recognize them by pattern, and now she thinks she can hear the song of life pulsing through his body, too.
“Jinu,” she says his name again, as though she can’t believe that he is real. “Are you there?”
“I’m coming,” he says. His footsteps are catching up to hers. “Wait for me. Are you sure you want me in your world?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m serious, Rumi. I’m a demon. I’ve done terrible things.”
Rumi chews her lip. “I’m a demon too. It’s possible to be good. Take it from me, okay? You have this second chance. With me.”
She can hear Jinu shifting in the background. She wonders what his reaction to that had been. But she cannot look or see.
All she hears from him is a sigh — of worry or relief, she can’t quite tell.
“Whatever you say, princess.”
The air grows lighter. The weight on her shoulders alleviates. She can hear the distant sounds of her songs and that is how she knows that the surface is near.
The ground cracks open, and sunshine pours in. Rumi can hear Mira and Zoey’s gasps from the surface above. The Seoul skyline is awfully bright with sunlight as Rumi and Jinu climb onto the ground far above the world below, heaving and wide-eyed as though it were their first time seeing the overworld at all. The sun is as golden as the Honmoon that glistens with a firm reminder that evil is at bay.
This is a world where Jinu belongs.
As Mira and Zoey fuss over their friend, Rumi turns her head to Jinu and they both share a quiet smile. Maybe life can be quiet now, even amid all its chaos and the demons they fight in their heads. But under the cerulean sky, it is more than enough. The daylight is golden.