You didn’t remember running. Only the rush of silence in your ears after the concert. Only the way the seal beneath your feet cracked mid-performance—an invisible tremor that no one else noticed… but you felt in your chest like a scream held back too long.

You had barely made it to the rooftop before your knees gave out. There, in the dark, under the neon haze of a sleeping city, you collapsed beside a rusted floodlight. Your fingers dug into the gravel as you panted, trembling.

The right side of your face burned.

And when you finally caught your breath and looked into the broken mirror propped against the wall—

You saw it.

Your right eye. Glowing red. Laced with gold. Not fully demon. Not fully human.

Something in between. Something dangerous.

You covered it with your hand, choked by the fear that had no name.

⸻

A voice broke through the wind behind you.

“You should’ve told me.”

You froze.

That voice. Low. Deep. Laced with something sad.

Jin-hu.

⸻

You turned sharply, hair clinging to your damp skin, fingers already sparking with defensive magic— But he didn’t flinch.

He stood at the edge of the roof like he belonged to the night itself, the wind tugging at his coat, eyes fixed on you.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

He walked toward you—calm, slow, as if your trembling didn’t scare him. As if your red eye didn’t.

⸻

“I told you this would happen,” he said softly, crouching beside you. “You’re not breaking apart. You’re breaking through.”

You shook your head. “You don’t understand. I almost lost control. On stage.”

“You didn’t.”

“I will.”

His gaze flicked to your hand still covering your eye.

“Let me see.”

You turned your face away.

“Rumi,” he said, quiet, firm.

Slowly—hesitantly—you let your hand fall.

The red light pulsed like a heartbeat.

He didn’t recoil.

Instead… he reached up and brushed his fingers under your eye. His thumb ghosted over the cheekbone. Warm. Real. Human.

You tensed—shame burning through you like wildfire. “I’m hideous,” you whispered.

“No,” he said. “You’re becoming something this world isn’t ready for.”

His voice dropped—something reverent in it.

“And it terrifies them because they’ve never seen anything like you.”

⸻

Tears welled up, and this time, you didn’t stop them. They streamed down your face as you leaned into his hand.

He caught you gently, letting your forehead rest against his shoulder. His arm slid around you, protective, unshaken.

No armor. No music. No stage. Just two broken voices in the dark, wrapped in the echo of something they were never allowed to feel.

⸻

“If I fall,” you whispered, your voice cracking, “don’t let me hurt anyone.”

Jin-hu pulled back just enough to look at you—his face solemn, his brows drawn low.

“If you fall,” he said, brushing his thumb beneath your red eye, “I’ll fall with you.”

⸻

And in that moment, under the fractured skyline of Seoul and the hum of a failing seal, you believed him.

Because he didn’t just touch your skin.

He touched the part of you no one else dared to see.