Chapter Text
The plan was simple.
”Go after the very thing that powers the Honmoon — the fans.”
Gwi-Ma had been doing the same thing for centuries and getting no new results.
If we were any less scared, we would call him insane to his face. But we didn't.
I have to get my jabs in whenever I can, being a Jeoseung Saja he can't afford to get rid of so easily.
I was the one who found the four of them, asked them to do this with me.
They didn't know it at the time, but I'd been studying them. I'd seen their past lives, how they all wanted to be singers, to perform.
Until now, they'd never succeeded.
I wanted to give them a taste of that. I'd let Gwi-Ma grant them whatever they wanted.
Me?
I had to make my shame go away.
It pained me to forget them. But I had to.
It should have been simple.
"It is your voices, your song, that will create the Golden Honmoon."
We'd been told this story since we found out that we were the next Hunters all those years ago.
"You're not like them, Rumi."
I'd been told this for far longer, since I found out that my father was a demon.
Like all the others we'd been trained to destroy.
So why was I still here?
I'm a Hunter, like my mother.
Celine made sure to remind me of that almost every time.
That's why I wasn’t like them.
Because I was all good and they were all evil.
I'd never had any reason to believe otherwise (with my father being an exception, but he's not here for a reason, isn't he?).
Until they arrived.
The Saja Boys.
They made us all — Mira, Zoey, me — question everything we'd been taught.
The worst part?
We couldn't even be mad about it.