THIS FANFIC IS NOT DEAD
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Rumi ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and fell.
Rumi fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and fell, and ran.
And Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi, and Rumi.
"Gah!"
Rumi burst out of the water, coughing violently as she swam toward the shore. Large gulps of seawater spilled from her mouth with every harsh breath, and the incoming waves seemed almost eager to help, rolling in behind her and shoving her forward until her hands scraped against wet sand.
She dragged herself onto the beach and collapsed, chest heaving. First she rolled onto her back, staring up at the sky, then onto her side, retching again as more water poured from her throat.
Then she froze.
Her next cough sent something thick and warm spilling from her mouth, not water, but blood. It streamed out in a steady flow, splattering onto the sand beneath her chin. Rumi's eyes flew open in pure terror as she gagged again, vomiting what felt like endless amounts of it, dark and heavy, pooling beneath her like a gruesome tide.
By the time it stopped, her entire body was shaking. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling backward, her gaze locked on the spreading puddle of blood as if it might lunge at her.
As she retreated, a wave rolled in, washing over her feet. Instead of the familiar chill of seawater, the sensation was warm. Sticky.
Her breath hitched.
Rumi looked down.
She was standing in blood.
The ocean itself had turned a deep, glistening red, waves rising and crashing like something torn straight out of a nightmare. Each surge carried the same thick color, staining the shore as it crept toward her again.
She staggered back farther, her breathing coming fast and shallow, her heart hammering painfully in her chest.
Then something moved at the edge of her vision.
Her head snapped toward the pool of blood she had vomited onto the sand. The surface of it was changing, drying, cracking. Flaking. The blood began to peel away in thin fragments, breaking apart into countless red petals that lifted gently into the air.
Rumi stared, frozen, as more and more petals drifted upward, floating lazily as if carried by an unseen breeze.
And then the ocean began to do the same.
The crimson waves crumbled, dissolving into an overwhelming storm of red petals, the sea itself unraveling until the shoreline, the water, and the horizon were swallowed by fluttering scarlet. The air filled with them, an endless flood of petals rising, swirling, and falling all around her, until the world was nothing but red.
Rumi kept stepping backward, her feet dragging through the air as if the ground itself no longer wanted her, trying desperately to avoid the red petals brushing against her skin. With every step, a crushing sense of dread settled deeper into her chest, heavy and suffocating.
She glanced down, and her breath caught.
The patterns etched along her body were glowing. Not faintly, not subtly, but blazing with an intense, unnatural light. They were red. Bright, burning red, pulsing faintly as though alive.
"We are hunters, voices strong."
The sound came from behind her. A voice, clear, and melodic cut through the whispering flutter of petals.
Rumi's body went rigid. Slowly, she turned.
Her eyes shook as they landed on the figure standing atop a distant hill. A girl draped in a deep red cloak, her face hidden behind a white-edged mask. Behind her, the moon hung low in the sky, swollen and glowing crimson, bathing the world in bloody light.
"Slaying demons with our song," the red-cloaked girl continued, her voice carrying effortlessly across the petal-filled air. "Fix the world and make it right."
"When darkness finally meets the light." The words were finished by another voice. And it took Rumi a second to realise that the new voice was hers.
Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs. She looked down at herself, hands trembling. A red cloak now hung from her shoulders, its fabric heavy and warm against her skin. The glowing patterns across her body burned brighter, the red so vivid it hurt to look at.
The petals were everywhere now, piling, swirling, blotting out the horizon. The sky, the ground, the ocean that had once been there… all of it drowned beneath an endless storm of red petals. There was no world left beyond them.
Rumi forced her gaze back up the hill, searching for the masked girl.
She was gone.
Instead, Rumi stood there.
She was the one on the hill now, the wind tugging at her cloak as the crimson moon loomed behind her. In her hands was something, something solid, heavy.
She looked down. She was holding... She was holding...
Oh God.
Rumi ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and woke up!
Rumi bolted upright with a sharp gasp, her hands clawing at the sheets as if she were still running, still falling. Her chest heaved violently, breath tearing in and out of her lungs like she'd been drowning for real. For a few seconds, she couldn't tell where she was.
Darkness. Familiar darkness.
Her room.
Moonlight slipped in through the curtains, pale and calm, nothing like the swollen crimson moon from her dream. The walls were still there. The floor was still there.
Rumi swallowed hard, her throat raw, and brought a trembling hand up to her mouth. She expected warmth. Stickiness. The copper taste of blood.
There was nothing.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, feet touching the cool floor. The contrast sent a small shiver up her spine.
Her gaze drifted to the mirror across the room.
For a moment, she didn't want to look.
Slowly, she stood and crossed the room, each step hesitant, as if the floor might dissolve beneath her feet. When she reached the mirror, she raised her eyes.
Rumi stared back at herself.
Her reflection looked normal. Pale, tired, eyes ringed with exhaustion.
She let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Then her eyes narrowed.
A faint red pulse traced along the patterns beneath her skin, gone so fast she might have imagined it.
Rumi stumbled back from the mirror, her back hitting the wall as her breath hitched again. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no…"
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The room felt smaller now, tighter, as if the walls were leaning in to listen.
We are hunters, voices strong.
She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head violently, trying to force the words away. "Stop," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please… stop."
But the dread lingered, heavy and patient, like something waiting just beneath the surface.
A sudden buzz snapped her out of her thoughts. Rumi glanced down at her phone, the vibration still humming on her desk. A breaking news alert filled the screen.
The image attached made her pause.
The Saja Boys.
Rumi picked up the phone properly and stared at it for a moment before scrolling. As she read, her breathing slowly evened out, the frantic edge dulling with each line of text. Whatever fear still lingered from the dream was pushed aside, buried beneath something colder, sharper.
Her eyes hardened.
She exhaled, long and controlled, then locked the screen. Without another glance back at the bed or the mirror, she stood and left the room.
---
"Is she still inside?" Zoey asked, dropping down beside Mira on the couch. Mira was sprawled out across it, one arm draped over the backrest, looking like she hadn't moved in a while.
"Hn." Mira replied with a low grunt, not bothering to look up.
Zoey hummed, then tilted her head slightly. "How'd it go with Bobby?" she asked, a small, curious smile tugging at her lips.
Mira shifted, pushing herself upright and rolling her shoulders. "Not as bad as it could've gone," she said. "Even with their big and mysterious return, Jinoo and his friends still have a lot to catch up on before they can really compete with us again."
She leaned back, gaze unfocused as if replaying the meeting in her head.
Zoey drew her legs up to her chest, hugging them loosely. "But it's not impossible," she said quietly. "Do you think they're doing their plan all over again?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with implication.
"I doubt it," Mira said, yawning as she leaned back into the couch. "It wouldn't have worked in the first place. It's probably a different plan. Especially with that red chick likely working with them."
Zoey groaned softly, slumping against the armrest. "Their last plan nearly tore apart the Honmoon. Now they've got a literal terminator on their side," she said, staring up at the ceiling. "Things are really starting to look bleak."
Mira glanced sideways at her, one brow lifting. "Pessimism doesn't look cute on you."
"Hey, I'm trying to be serious here!" Zoey shot back. The protest only made her sound more flustered, and somehow even more adorable.
Mira let out a quiet laugh. "Yeah, yeah. So," she added casually, "how was your date?"
Zoey froze.
"D-date!? What date!?" She immediately turned red, whipping her head away. "I didn't go on a date! Who told you it was a date? It wasn't a... why would you even think I went on a date!?"
Mira stared at her flatly. "Really?" she said. "You literally said, and I quote -'I'm going to go see a friend.'-" She tilted her head. "Other than us, you don't have any friends, Zoey."
Zoey flushed deeper. "That's not true. I have friends."
Mira answered with the same deadpan look, then leaned in slightly. "So," she said, eyebrows rising together, "was he hot?"
Zoey's face burned. "…It wasn't a he."
Mira blinked, then stared at her for a moment. "Seriously?" A slow grin spread across her face. "That's new. I didn't think..."
"Neither did I!" Zoey cut in quickly. "But then it happened, and she was so hot, and goth, and, hehehe."
"And you're drooling," Mira said with an amused huff, shaking her head.
The door at the end of the hall slid open.
Both Zoey and Mira glanced up almost at the same time.
Rumi stepped into the living space, her movements calm. Too calm. Her hair was still slightly mussed from sleep, but her posture was straight.
Zoey brightened immediately. "Oh, hey! You're up," she said, waving a hand. "You okay? You kinda vanished earlier."
Rumi didn't answer right away. Her eyes flicked from Zoey to Mira, lingering just a second longer on the latter. Then she walked past them toward the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water.
Only after taking a slow sip did she speak.
"I'm fine," she said.
Mira watched her over the rim of the couch, eyes narrowing slightly. "You don't look fine."
Rumi set the glass down with a soft clink. "Didn't ask."
Zoey blinked. "O-okay," she said carefully. "Someone woke up spicy."
Rumi finally turned to face them fully. The overhead light caught her eyes, and for just a moment, something unreadable flickered there.
"How long ago did the Saja Boys come back?" she asked.
Zoey hesitated. "Uh… officially? A few days ago. Why?"
The room fell quiet, the easy teasing atmosphere dissolving into something heavier. Zoey shifted on the couch, hugging her knees again. "You're not thinking of doing something dumb, are you?"
Rumi's lips twitched. Not quite a smile. "Define dumb."
Mira exhaled slowly. "Rumi."
That got her attention. Rumi's gaze snapped to Mira, sharp as a blade. Mira held it, unflinching.
Rumi was the one who backed down in the end, her shoulders sinking as she let out a slow, tired sigh. "I had… a... a dream," she said quietly. "A horrible one."
Mira and Zoey exchanged a brief look, a silent conversation passing between them, before their attention returned to Rumi.
Zoey shifted closer, her voice softening. "Do you… wanna talk about it?" she asked, worry seeping through despite her attempt to sound casual.
Rumi didn't respond right away. She just stared at the two of them, her gaze distant, as if she were still seeing something that wasn't there anymore.
Mira straightened slightly. "No more hiding, remember?" she said gently.
Zoey let out a small breath and nodded. "Yeah," she murmured. "No more hiding."