Hyunwoo pushed open the door to their dorm, towel draped around his shoulders after a much-needed shower. His hair was still damp, and though his body no longer ached the way it had yesterday, the exhaustion lingered. He just wanted to collapse into his bed.
But the moment he stepped in, three sets of eyes turned toward him.
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, all three of his teammates turned.
"Hyunwoo?" Jaemin blinked, pushing himself upright from his bunk. "Didn't you just get admitted to the infirmary yesterday? What are you doing here?"
Jisoo spun her chair around, eyebrows raised. "Yeah, last I checked you were half-dead. Now you're... what, taking showers and acting normal?"
Jiwon leaned against the bedframe, arms folded tight. "You scared us. We thought you'd be out for a week at least."
Hyunwoo paused, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "...What, you missed me already?"
"Don't dodge the question," Jisoo said flatly, but there was a tiny smile betraying her relief.
He sighed and dropped onto his bed, letting his head sink into the pillow. "Guess I heal faster than most. Aura's useful like that."
Jaemin frowned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Not that fast. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're okay—but you can't just shrug this off."
"Yeah," Jiwon added, "you were bleeding out, Hyunwoo. Then suddenly today you're walking around like nothing happened? That's not normal."
Hyunwoo stretched his arms over his head and groaned. "What, you'd rather I still be groaning in bed? Maybe cry for attention a bit?"
Jiwon shook his head, exasperated. "I'd rather you didn't act like almost dying is just a minor inconvenience."
"Relax," Hyunwoo said, softer this time. He sat up, looking at the three of them in turn. "I'm fine. Really. And... thanks. For worrying."
The room quieted a bit, the tension melting into something warmer.
Jaemin chuckled, breaking the silence. "Man, don't do that again. I'm not ready to lead this team if you go down."
"Ha. You'd make a terrible leader," Jisoo teased, leaning back in his chair.
"Better than you!" Jaemin shot back.
"Both of you would be disasters," Jiwon said dryly, though his lips curved into the faintest smile. He glanced at Hyunwoo. "So don't give us a reason to test it."
Hyunwoo smirked. "Guess I'll stick around, then. Wouldn't want NOVA falling apart without me."
Jaemin threw a pillow at him, which Hyunwoo caught easily. The room filled with the sound of quiet laughter, the heaviness of yesterday finally lifting.
For the first time since waking, Hyunwoo let himself relax—not as a fighter, not as someone burdened with secrets, but just as part of a team.
The lights in the dorm were dimmed now, only the soft glow of a desk lamp keeping the room lit. Hyunwoo lay sprawled on his bed, hands behind his head, while the others lounged around—Jaemin half-sitting, half-lying upside down on his bunk, Jisoo at the desk spinning lazily in her chair, and Jiwon perched neatly on the edge of his bed with his arms crossed.
"So," Jaemin said, his voice carrying that mischievous tone Hyunwoo had learned to dread. "Since you cheated death and all... you gonna tell us the secret? Special technique? Divine blessing? Did the gods descend and heal you while whispering, 'Our chosen one'?"
Hyunwoo snorted. "If a god showed up, the first thing they'd do is tell me to stop being lazy."
"Accurate," Jiwon muttered, making the others laugh.
"Lazy?" Jisoo spun halfway around, pointing at Hyunwoo. "You? The guy who trains until he collapses and makes us feel guilty for skipping a set? Nah. If anything, the gods would tell you to chill."
"Then maybe they did," Hyunwoo said with a grin. "Because I'm planning on sleeping for twelve hours straight."
"Not before explaining," Jaemin said, wagging a finger. "Seriously, man. How'd you walk out so soon? No aura user heals that clean overnight. I'm not saying I don't trust you but..."
"But you don't trust me," Hyunwoo finished, raising an eyebrow.
Jaemin opened his mouth, then shut it, and everyone laughed.
Hyunwoo leaned back again, his gaze flicking briefly to the ceiling. "Let's just say I got lucky. And... I had a reason to get back up fast."
There was a weight to his words that silenced the room for a beat. He quickly waved it off, smirking again. "Besides, if I left you three alone too long, who knows what kind of trouble you'd cause."
"Oh please," Jisoo said. "You're the one who attracts trouble."
"Exactly," Jaemin jumped in. "It follows you around like a lost puppy. We're innocent bystanders."
"Innocent?" Jiwon raised an eyebrow. "You set the oven on fire twice this month."
"That was Hyunwoo's fault!" Jaemin pointed across the room.
"How is that my fault?" Hyunwoo sat up, glaring.
"You distracted me with your dumb spear tricks," Jaemin shot back.
The room broke into laughter again, the kind that left everyone's shoulders a little lighter.
Minutes turned to hours as the talk drifted. They swapped jokes, teased each other about little habits—Jaemin's messy bunk, Jiwon's habit of humming when he studied, Jisoo's scary stare when she was annoyed. Hyunwoo just sat back, letting the warmth sink in, throwing in sarcastic comments at just the right moments.
The laughter simmered down after a while, the room quieter except for the hum of the desk lamp and Jiwon's soft spinning in his chair. Hyunwoo, half-buried under his blanket, glanced at the others. They hadn't moved to sleep yet either. Something about nights like this always dragged the truth out.
"You know," Jaemin said suddenly, staring at the ceiling, "sometimes I think about what we're even doing here. Hunters. Missions. Fighting monsters bigger than buildings. Don't you guys ever... I don't know, get scared?"
The question hung in the air.
Jisoo was the first to answer. "Of course I do. I just don't show it. Someone has to keep you idiots in line."
"Harsh," Jaemin muttered, but there was no bite to it.
Jiwon stopped spinning, resting his chin on the back of the chair. "I don't think fear is the problem. It's the... what comes after. You beat a Grimm today, tomorrow there's another one. It never ends. Makes you wonder if we're actually changing anything."
That made Hyunwoo pause. He'd had the same thought more than once. His eyes drifted to his hand, faintly remembering the warmth of that strange red aura.
"...I used to think like that too," Hyunwoo admitted quietly. "That maybe nothing we do matters. That no matter how hard we fight, there'll always be something stronger out there."
The others looked at him, surprised by his serious tone.
"But then," he continued, "I realized... it's not about the big picture. Not for me. It's about who's standing next to me. As long as I can make sure you three walk out alive, that's enough."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy—it was warm.
"...You sound like someone's dad," Jaemin finally said, grinning. "What's next? Gonna tell us to eat our veggies?"
Hyunwoo rolled his eyes. "Fine. Next time I'll just let you burn the kitchen down."
Jiwon actually smiled—rare, but real. "For once, I agree with him. We fight because we're here together. That's reason enough."
Jisoo nodded slowly. "Yeah. Guess so."
The tension eased. They drifted back into softer topics—dreams they never admitted out loud if they never be a huntsmen and huntress .
Jaemin wanted to run a café one day, despite his cooking disasters. Jiwon admitted he missed playing music more than he let on. Jisoo... after some pressing, finally confessed she sometimes wished she could live a normal, boring life.
"And you?" Jisoo asked at last, turning her sharp gaze to Hyunwoo.
He hesitated, then smirked faintly. "Me? I just want to live long enough to see Jaemin run that café. So I can tell every customer his cooking is cursed."
The laughter that followed wasn't loud, but it was enough.
and for a moment the room went quiet again. Hyunwoo leaned back against his pillow, staring up at the ceiling, his expression softening.
"...But seriously," he said at last, his voice quieter than before. "I think I want to be a writer."
That made all three heads turn toward him.
"A writer?" Jaemin blinked. "Like, books? Stories?"
Hyunwoo nodded. "Yeah. Stories, novels, maybe even history one day. Something people can read long after we're gone. Something... that lasts."
Jiwon tilted his head, curious. "That's... different. You don't really talk about that stuff."
Hyunwoo gave a small shrug. "It's just—fighting is what we do now. It's important, yeah, but it doesn't last. A Grimm shows up, we beat it, another one comes tomorrow. But words... words stay. Maybe if I can write about what we see, what we go through, people will understand it better. Or maybe I just... don't want everything we do to be forgotten."
For once, Jisoo didn't have a sharp comment ready. She studied him quietly, her expression unreadable.
"...I didn't expect that from you," she finally said. "But... it suits you. You watch people more than you admit. You'd probably write something worth reading."
Hyunwoo chuckled softly. "Guess we'll see. But if I ever publish anything, I'm using Jaemin as the comic relief character."
"Hey!" Jaemin threw a pillow at him, which Hyunwoo caught without effort.
The mood warmed again, but the thought lingered between them—the rare glimpse at something Hyunwoo wanted beyond the battlefield.
The room settled into silence, only the sound of his teammates' steady breathing filling the space. Hyunwoo lay awake, eyes tracing the shadows on the ceiling.
He thought of what he had told them earlier, almost playfully—a writer. But the word carried weight.
Fragments of his past life pressed into him. Late nights hunched over a desk, ink-stained fingers, empty cups stacked like monuments of stubbornness. He remembered the loneliness of it, the critics, the crushing rejections... and then the recognition, the fame. The novels that carried his name across the world, the stories that lived longer than he did.
Even when it led him to his death, he never hated it. He never grew bored of it. Writing had been both his curse and his freedom.
A quiet sigh escaped him.
"...maybe this time," Hyunwoo whispered to himself, "I'll write something different."
His hand rested on his chest, where warmth from the red aura still lingered. The reminder that he wasn't the same as before. Not entirely.
His lips curved into a faint, almost tired smile as his eyes closed. The weight of his past pressed against him, but now, there was also the fragile seed of hope.
Sleep claimed him at last, gentle and deep.