The world was watching.

The Golden Concert had one purpose: To purify the Honmoon. To use your song—your voice—to finally stabilize the seal between worlds.

You stood center stage, dressed in sacred white and gold, threads of spellwork woven into your sleeves. Behind you: Mira. Zoey.

Or so you thought.

⸻

The music swelled—your cue approaching— And you opened your mouth to sing.

But then it happened.

The harmony wavered.

Just slightly. A single chord, warped like breath on glass.

You turned your head. Mira’s eyes glinted too dark. Zoey didn’t breathe the same way.

Then you saw it.

The threads under their skin—dark sigils pulsing purple.

Imposters.

⸻

Your breath caught in your throat. Magic surged under your skin, and suddenly—

**Your right eye glowed bright crimson. Your left eye—gold streaked with red. And the celestial tattoos along your arms and collarbone began to flicker. Not just glow—burn.

⸻

You stumbled back, chest heaving, heart hammering. The music around you collapsed into silence. The crowd hushed in confusion.

Then—he stepped into the light.

Jin-hu. Cloaked in black. Standing by the scaffolding. Unbothered. Unapologetic.

And behind him—your real Mira and Zoey, wrapped in enchanted silk, unconscious, hovering in cursed harmony threads.

⸻

You screamed.

The sound wasn’t human. It fractured glass. Shook the edge of the seal.

Your patterns exploded in golden light—sharp, angry, divine. Cracks appeared beneath your heels on the stage floor.

The Honmoon itself pulsed, warning you. Too much. Too fast. Too raw.

⸻

He walked forward slowly.

You wanted to run. You wanted to end him. But most of all—you wanted him to lie.

To say it wasn’t real.

But he didn’t.

⸻

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low, breaking. “But I made a choice.”

“To betray me?” you spat, your voice warping, vibrating with both melody and wrath.

His gaze flickered.

“To save the only family I had left.”

⸻

“And what was I then?” You were glowing now. The left half of your body crackled gold. The right—bleeding red threads of demonic script.

Your song was still caged in your throat, ready to tear everything apart.

“I never stopped loving you, Rumi,” he said softly. “That’s what makes this worse.”

⸻

Your tears hit the stage as your magic cracked the seal around your boots.

You could feel the air bending. Your presence now dangerous. Your body barely holding itself together.

You were no longer just a singer. You were something sacred and broken. And deadly.

⸻

“If you meant a single word of that—” you whispered, voice trembling— “you would’ve stood beside me… not behind a lie.”

Your voice surged then.

Not sung. Unleashed.

It shattered the illusions of Mira and Zoey instantly.

Jin-hu staggered back, caught in the wave of harmony-blast magic.

And still, still—he didn’t fight you.

He looked at you like the world had already ended.

⸻

“I told you,” he said softly, “if you fall, I’ll fall with you.”

You stared at him—glowing, cracked, trembling—

“I didn’t fall,” you whispered. “I was pushed.”