The ruins of Su-Bin's underground kingdom echoed behind us as we clawed our way out of the broken metro tunnels. The air was thick with smoke, the stench of blood clinging to every breath. Rust and rot soaked the stone. My claws dragged shallow grooves into the floor with each step, tail swaying heavy like it carried the weight of the fight still hanging on me.
Every muscle screamed for rest. My ribs burned sharp with every inhale. My hoodie was half-shredded, blood dried and cracking against the fabric—some mine, most of it not. But I kept moving. Because moving forward was the only thing I knew how to do.
Han Ji-a trailed close, katana still in hand. Her face was blank, the perfect assassin mask, but her shadows told the truth. They slithered and twitched restlessly around her feet, whispering that she was still on edge, that her heart hadn't slowed since the fight.
And then there was Lee Hyori.
