The forest is shrouded in darkness, the scent of blood thick in the air. Somewhere in the distance, the last echoes of the battle still linger—the faint crackling of burning wood, the hurried footsteps of retreating hunters. But here, hidden beneath the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, all is quiet. For now.

Hyunjin leans against the damp earth, his breath measured but shallow. Even in pain, even wounded, he holds himself with that same quiet grace, as if he refuses to acknowledge the gash across his side, the dark ichor seeping from his torn flesh. The wound burns—not from the blade itself, but from the enchantment laced within it. A weapon crafted to kill our kind.

Hyunjin exhales slowly, composing himself despite the pain. Even wounded, he does not allow himself to appear weak.

You kneel before him, your hands hovering over the wound. His blood stains your fingers—his, yours, the hunters’—and for a moment, you hesitate. Not because you doubt your ability, but because it’s strange to be here, tending to someone you were chasing not long ago. Fighting beside him, instead of against him.

"You should have let me handle the last one," he murmurs, voice smooth despite the pain beneath it. "I had him."

You scoff, shaking your head. "You were already bleeding."

His breath leaves him in a slow exhale, and you watch as his eyes flicker shut, just for a moment. He’s tired. More than he lets on. Even now, though, there’s something unreadable in his gaze when he looks at you.

Magic stirs at your fingertips, a soft glow illuminating his torn skin as you begin to mend the wound. His gaze lingers on you, unreadable, thoughtful.

"You realize," he muses, a hint of a smirk curling at his lips, "that healing me now means I owe you."

You let your hands still, just for a second, before continuing. "Good. I do enjoy having a debt to call in."