Chapter 10

Finding Peace

After the fiery confrontation in the library, Byulyi’s entire body was vibrating with unexpected emotion.

Nothing seemed to make sense, and yet everything seemed to be falling into place. As she stood outside the library with her heart still hammering against her chest, the only thing she truly knew in that moment was that she needed time to think. She didn’t want to run away anymore, but there was so much to process.

Without another thought, she began her trek toward the pegasus’ plateau, her thoughts hovering inside her brain like bees, each like angry black dots vying for a designated place within the colony.

The curse—fact or fiction, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was being able to share the same reality as Yongsun. A section of the angry black swarm fell into place.

The acolyte—why didn’t he return to the vampire princess? If he knew, would he have done nothing? Byulyi didn’t want to do nothing. Another section of thoughts was filed away.

The princess—her princess. Yongsun’s face appeared in her mind’s eye and hovered above the rest of her neatly boxed thoughts. What was she to do with all these feelings now?

It was all a mess.

When she arrived at the pegasus’ plateau, she found a place to lay her head among the tall grass and allowed the breeze to wash over her. Her heartbeat slowed, and the exhaustion began to seep in.

Soon, she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of silence and empty space. When she awoke again, she was strangely...calm. As she laid in the grass, on the cusp of awake and dreaming, she thought about Kim Yongsun again. She thought about Joohyun too, and the confession that had risen in the heat of the moment. It was strange—she had been so scared, so anxious about everything...but once the words came and gave her emotions solid shape and form, everything was so easy. Of all the things on Archangel Island, this truth was by far the easiest for her to accept.

As she looked up at the fluffy clouds above, she smiled and was truly at peace.

And it was in this peace that she thought of Joohyun again—beautiful, strong, and angry, so pained by something to truly be free. Byulyi wondered if she had truly been happy, or had she spent her whole life protecting her loved ones from the bitter evils she ascribed to the world?

She thought of Seungwan too, and whether loved Joohyun as intensely as Joohyun did. Perhaps the bigger question was this: how far down did they have to bury their feelings until they were able to sleep with each other without expressing them?

She didn’t want those kinds of games. The heartaches and the headache, the push and the pull—she couldn’t subject Yongsun to that.  

It was then that she decided she wanted to be more like Hyejin and Wheein—open, honest, and in love. She recalled her conversation with Hyejin: “You’ll always be inferior to the woman of your dreams,” and yes, perhaps she did feel utterly worthless standing beside Yongsun, but she wanted to try. She wanted to be able to stand up straighter and learn to be proud. She wanted to be better, to be worthy of her love, and she hoped that Yongsun would give her the chance.

And if this kind of love was a curse, she’d cross out the label and call it a blessing.

She laid there with the warm sun shining down, a wide smile on her face. This, she decided, must be freedom.

Unfortunately, the peace did not last when a sudden rustling and a buzz of voices jolted her out of her reverie. She propped herself onto her elbows and listened.

“If she’s here, you can probably see her from a mile away.”

Byuyi’s ear pricked and swivelled toward the voice. Hyejin? Sitting up, she squinted into the distance and saw three figures walking down the path, their voice carried by the wind and the silence of the plateau.

“Maybe she’s in the grass.”

Wheein? What were they doing here?

“As if the Ice Princess would get down and dirty in the grass,” Hyejin scoffed.

“She seems like she would—depending on who asks.”

“You think she’d be the type to listen to requests? She’s such a boss alpha type.”

“Hyejin!”

“What? It’s true.”

The voices were getting closer.

“You could say the same about you though,” Wheein replied.

“Jung Wheein, are you saying you want to get down and dirty in the grass with me? That is bold.”

A third voice laughed. “You two are too much.”

Byulyi sat up straighter. Seulgi!

“Wait, what’s that?”

From afar, the three silhouetted figures stopped. Someone pointed in her direction.

“Who’s there?” Hyejin demanded.

Byulyi stood and raised a hand in an awkward wave. “It’s just me,” she called.

“Byulyi-unnie?” Wheein asked. They stepped into the grass and waded toward her, then met halfway, under the shade of a squat little tree just off the path.

“What are you guys doing here?” Byulyi asked.

“We’re looking for Joohyun-unnie,” Seulgi replied. They quickly filled her in on the purpose of their hunt and Yongsun’s frenzied search for her best friend. Though Byulyi could not bring herself to confess what had happened between her and Joohyun, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had anything to do with Yongsun’s behaviour.

“So, have you seen Joohyun-unnie?” Wheein asked.

Byulyi smiled apologetically. “No, sorry. But I’ll help you look.”

Suddenly, their conversation was cut short when the cry of a thousand birds suddenly shot through their eardrums. They saw them at a distance, a cluster of black specks across the sky like a cloud of smoke stemming from the fine arts building.

“What the hell was that?” Hyejin mumbled. She instinctively wrapped an arm around Wheein’s shoulder and looked to Byulyi for answers.

The cloud of birds resettled after a few long minutes, and the silence blanketed them once more. Byulyi sniffed the air, her ears flickering—nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and yet…

“Something is wrong,” she said. The others nodded their agreement.

Byulyi began wading through the tall grass, the other girls following soundlessly behind her.

They ran toward the noise, but they did not get far when a sudden gust of wind intercepted their journey. Their arms raised instinctively to shield their faces, but the sharp air seemed to cut at their clothes. Byulyi, learning by now to fear every sudden strong gust of wind, edged toward the back of the group, ready to take off at a moment’s notice.

But it wasn’t Joohyun this time.

A black gryphon soared overhead, then swooped in front of them, digging her powerful claws into the ground and swinging her head up in a long, piercing cry.

All four of them could feel their hair stand on end.

“Athena,” Byulyi heard Seulgi say to herself.

The cry was followed by another, and the ground began to shake. The earth began to tear itself apart—the nearby wildlife quickly fleeing toward safe ground. Byulyi, who had fallen over in the wake of the sudden movement beneath her feet, looked up in shock. Seulgi offered a gloved hand and pulled her up without a word, her eyes, trained on the gryphon, were equally wide. The path between them and the gryphon had rumbled open to reveal a set of stairs.

Athena bowed her head and stamped impatiently with a disgruntled whinny.

The four girls looked at each other apprehensively, and, when no one made a move, Athena dragged her right hoof across the dirt and drew a cross and an arrow pointing toward the stairs.

“A cross?” Hyejin mumbled with a raised brow.

“The hospital,” Wheein said incredulously.

Athena nodded.

First the flock of birds and now the hospital. Byulyi looked over at Seulgi, who appraised the tunnel with an expression she had never seen before.

Something was very, very wrong.

The spiral staircase leading down to the school hospital was a narrow afterthought of masonry, its grey stones uneven and its rails partly rusty and bent from years of neglect. It was just Byulyi and Seulgi now as they raced down the stairs, their footsteps and pounding hearts seeming to heighten the tension in the still air. Hyejin and Wheein had long fallen behind but had encouraged them to go with the wind.

“Seulgi,” Byulyi said quietly from three steps behind her friend. The back of her head didn’t say much, though her quiet sniffling pulled at Byulyi’s heart. “It’ll be okay. Joohyun will be okay.” The words sounded empty even to her own ears, but the truth was that neither knew where they were heading and what they would find at the end—she was at a loss. Happy, earnest Seulgi had done everything she could to make her smile, but now...she hated the weight of her own helplessness.

Seulgi said nothing.

Why was this staircase so damn long?

Finally, Seulgi turned her head slightly. “I have a bad feeling too, unnie.”

“I mean, a mysterious bird opened up a dark tunnel and told us to go—I don’t blame you,” Byulyi replied with a nervous chuckle in attempt to lighten the mood.

“Joohyun...and Seungwan. Something must’ve happened.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how I know, but Athena...gryphons are rarely like that, you know?”

“Like what?”

Seulgi stopped for a minute and turned to look up at Byulyi. Byulyi, however, had her eyes on the steps and ended up bumping into Seulgi. She blushed and made a haste apology, but Seulgi’s expression was dark. Something was bubbling beneath those glazed eyes, and, not knowing what to say, Byulyi listened.  

“Unnie,” Seulgi said, so quietly she had to lean in and swivel both ears forward. “Athena was scared.”

A chill up shivered up Byulyi’s spine. She nodded.

They continued their trek in silence, twenty-flights allowing them them plenty of time to adjust to the unchanging scenery, the monotony of their swirling thoughts, and the unchanging rhythm of their footsteps.

Finally, the staircase dipped into a larger, more cavernous room dug out from the dirt. Their feet hit the dirt and crossed the large empty room. On the far wall beside a heavy-looking iron door, set into the layers of earth, was a square cross with three angel wings on each side. Beneath was the engraving: “Archangel Island University Hospital”.

Byulyi and Seulgi looked at each other, then at the door—there were no handles, no knob, no buttons. They examined the bolts and the hinges and the grimy looking surface.

Byulyi scratched her head.

“Now what?” Seulgi asked with a pout. “I don’t want to go up those stairs again.”

“Maybe we should wait for Hyejin and Wheein first.”

“I hope they hurry,” Seulgi said, roughly running a hand through her hair, “it’s cold in here.”

Byulyi slid her eyes toward Seulgi, who sighed into her hands this time, then pulled at her shirt. Her hands and feet seemed incapable of staying still for even a moment. She had never seen her so anxious and so silent. Her gaze wandered to the staircase—please hurry, she thought. For Seulgi’s sake, Joohyun better be okay.

As if on cue, Hyejin appeared into view as she descended the last few steps with a big furry bundle in her arms. “Wheein fell asleep,” she said, slightly out of breath as she approached her friends at the door. “Isn’t she cute?”

Byulyi and Seulgi peered over at the lightly snoring tanuki puppy but did not comment. Cute as she was snuggled up against Hyejin’s chest, a more pressing issue was at hand.

“We can’t open the door,” Byulyi said. “Do you think Joohyun-unnie is alright?”

“She’s tough, unnie, don’t worry. Here, hold Wheein,” Hyejin said, transferring her bundle to Byulyi. Wheein stretched and snuggled into the crook of Byulyi’s arms, surprisingly soft and unsurprisingly heavy as Byulyi gathered her full weight. “Careful. If you drop her, I will rip out your liver. For real. I’ll rip it out and put it in a burger and feed to the birds.”

Hyejin strode up to the door and peered closely, investigating each bolt and hinge as her friends had done previously.

“Hyejin-ah,” Seulgi sighed, tapping her foot as she nervously eyed the door. “Maybe not the right time?”

Hyejin chewed her lip and turned to flashed them a small smile, “Sorry,” she said sheepishly, “I’m just on edge about this whole thing. I mean, have you ever seen a gryphon do this?”

Seulgi shook her head. “I thought the same thing. And those birds over by the fine arts building. I’m worried about Seungwan too.” Byulyi and Hyejin nodded in silent agreement. “If I remember correctly...Seungwan had a hand in helping Athena when she was injured. She and Joohyun-unnie used to see her every day for a while. I never went to the fine arts building, so I never had the chance to meet her, but it had to be her.”

“If you’re sure, it could be that she’s leading us to Joohyun. And maybe even Seungwan,” Byulyi said slowly, cradling Wheein like a baby. The tanuki kicked the air and gave a little whine, though she remained deep asleep.

Seulgi shook her head. “I don’t know for sure. I never got to meet her because she laid her eggs the year before Seungwan and I came to this school, and gryphons have to nest for three years—young gryphons are very difficult to raise and manage and stuff.” She bit her lip. “That gryphon picked us for a reason, unnie.”

Byulyi pulled Wheein a little closer. “I really hope they’re okay.”

Seulgi tried to smile. “Me too.”

Suddenly, Hyejin lifted her chin and scanned the ceiling. “I knew it! Camera.” Seulgi and Byulyi followed her gaze and sure enough, a camera was pointed right at them. “Fox burrow,” she remarked. “Always monitored. They’re clever creatures, but very paranoid. Not sure why they employed foxes to hide a hospital, but if I’m not mistaken…” Hyejin looked up and into the camera. “Anyone there? We need to get in!”

Silence.

Then, the crackling of speakers.

“Hello?” Hyejin tried again.

A low, nasally voice drawled: “Ye-e-es?”

Hyejin furrowed her brow and tossed her hair. Sensing her own frustrated energy emanating off Hyejin, Seulgi rubbed her shoulder with a gloved hand.

“We need to get inside,” Hyejin grinded out. “We’re looking for a friend. It’s urgent.” Seulgi gave her a look. “Please,” Hyejin added.

Silence. “Who is we?” the voice said slowly. Byulyi was sure at this point that whoever was behind that microphone must’ve been very ancient, very senile, or very much both.

“Mister—”

“Excuse me?” the voice bellowed.

“Er, Ma’am—we’re students,” Byulyi tried. “And we’re looking for—”

“Students?”

“Yes. Students. We’re looking for our friend, Bae Joohyun.”

The speaker crackled again. “Are you sure that you’re students?”

Hyejin rolled her eyes. “Yes, we’re students. We study things. At the university. Where we are. Right now. Can you please let us in? Joohyun could be dead in a ditch by now for all we know.”

Wheein stirred in Byulyi’s arms, the sudden movement prompting a wary glance from Hyejin.

“Now, how on earth did a bunch of students get into the emergency tunnel?” the voice murmured, more to herself than anyone else. Something shuffled and rustled behind the microphone. “Are you naughty children playing a prank?”

Are you ing kidding me? Hyejin mouthed. Seulgi gave her another sympathetic pat on the shoulder in attempt to calm her down.

It was Seulgi who stepped up to the plate this time: “Look, Ma’am,” she said, “we’re looking for our friend. We’re worried that something happened to her.”

“Mmhmm.”

“So...can you let us in?”

“Who are you looking for, again?”

“Bae Joohyun,” Seulgi replied.

“Mmhmm,” the voice hummed, followed by another bout of shuffling. “Oh shoot, now where are my glasses?” Everyone looked to Hyejin, who was moments away from blowing up. “Ah, there they are. Now, let’s see.” Byulyi and Seulgi looked at each other, then at Wheein—it was a good thing Wheein was asleep; she must’ve been the only thing keeping Hyejin civil. “No...I don’t see a Bae Joohyun anywhere on the patient’s list. Now, you kids should hurry back. This tunnel is for staff only.”

“Wait, wait!” Seulgi cried. “What about Son Seungwan?”

“Or Kim Yongsun,” Byulyi added quickly.

Silence.

“Oh.” The voice was quiet. “Come, then. Meet me at the reception area. And you might want to be prepared. You kids have frightfully weak stomachs.”

Bae Joohyun was good at many things but dealing with emotions had never been one of them. Ever since she grew her wings and was ed into the spotlight against her will, she disliked emotions even more. At first, it was the emotions of others that she hated. She didn’t understand why anyone would expose themselves to such vulnerability around her, why anyone would choose to be so wilfully manipulated for the sake of her affection.

Then there was Seungwan. Sweet, sweet Seungwan who taught her what it was like—and she hated it all the more. Joohyun had spent years resenting her own feelings—her one wish for Seungwan to love her, not because of some curse or some moment of weakness, but wholeheartedly love her in a way she would love no one else.

It was stupid and selfish and impossible, and—as she sat in the hospital waiting room now with her head buried in her hands—inconsequential. None of it seemed to matter anymore.

Nothing. All those years and all messes she put them through with her love, her lust, her indecision—these problems that were so insurmountably big only hours ago…none of those things mattered.

Especially not when the memory of Seungwan turning toward her, so beautiful in her blue dress, burned with so much guilt. She bowed her head and wrapped her arms around herself—just when she thought her tear ducts had run dry, it all started again.

It had been two hours now since she, with the help of Athena, had rushed both Yongsun and Seungwan to the hospital. And still she could not shake the same six images, like old Polaroid pictures where the light didn’t seem quite right, looping before her eyes again and again and again. It was painfully surreal.

One—Her own tears burned hot down her face when she placed Yongsun on the forest floor and ran toward the fallen tree. Her arms pushing through the broken branches, her heart rang in her ears, fearful of what she was about to see.

Two—The upturned roots softened the impact and drove the tree toward the ground at an angle. She drew closer. She heard her name being called, so softly it could’ve been the wind, and that’s when her eyes found her.

Three—Seungwan, lying on her back, the tree pressed against her torso and legs—her peacock blue dress splattered with crimson red. Joohyun fell to her knees, and bent over her, sobbing her apologies until they sounded empty and incoherent to her own ears.

“Unnie.” Seungwan’s broken smile was still so radiant. “It’s okay,” she said weakly. “It’s...it’s okay...It’s not your fault...”

“Seungwan...Seungwan, stay awake. Please, please, please. Don’t leave me, Seungwan. I-I love…”

Four—Seungwan, eyes closed.

Five—Her and her useless, useless tears, as she tried to lift the tree off her. She screamed, she swore, she spread her wings with the rush of adrenaline. Possessed by anger, fear, and pain, she threw herself against the massive trunk. Every fibre within her strained and screamed.

Six—Athena swept in, her voice bellowing like an army of angels. Her coal-black head appeared in Joohyun’s blurry peripheral. Her massive claws dug into the bark and ripped the trunk back. Joohyun fell forward into the dirt. She crawled toward Seungwan’s body and laid her head over her faintly beating heart. Athena nudged her gently, reminding her she wasn’t alone.

But she was alone. The six images rolled around and around, details falling in and out of place with every loop.

Seungwan had been rushed into surgery.

Yongsun was sent into a private room.

Joohyun had never been so alone in her life. So alone and so, so, so guilty. So guilty, and so useless.

She raised her head for a moment and gazed up at the red light above the doors to the operating theatre. The red light—the bloody red dress—her red hands—Joohyun looked down at the wrist braces on both hands, mocking her for her own incompetance, and wrapped her arms around herself once more.

“Unnie.” Joohyun’s head shot up. She hurriedly swiped the tears away from her eyes, cleared , and sat up straight before her bleary and tired eyes could focus on the figure before her. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me.”

“Seulgi,” Joohyun whispered. Too exhausted for spite, she mumbled, “Where’s Byulyi?”

“Visiting Yongsun-unnie. I...I told her to give us some space. She’s worried about Seungwan too.”

“How did you know?”

“Athena came to get us. And then the wrinkly dragon at the front desk told us everything.” Seulgi sat down beside her and pressed a plastic tub into her hands. “Here,” Seulgi said gently, “I got some seaweed soup at the cafeteria when I came in. They’re probably not as good as yours, but...you haven’t eaten, right?”

Joohyun shook her head and looked down at the plastic lid like it was an alien artefact. She hadn’t thought about food in a while—how could she? Especially when Seungwan…

“How is she?” Seulgi said, tentatively placing a gloved hand on Joohyun’s knee.

The third image—the blue dress dyed in red—flashed before Joohyun’s eyes. Her body tensed. She lowered her head in shame.

“I…I don’t know.”

Seulgi sighed as she reached over and peeled off the lid of the container. “Whatever happened out there,” she said, wrapping Joohyun’s fingers around a plastic spoon, “it’s not your fault.”

“It is,” Joohyun whispered. “I’m the one who did this.”

Seulgi shook her head, satisfied when Joohyun took a small sip. “You would never intentionally hurt her. I know you, unnie. You love her more than yourself sometimes.”

“You weren’t there.”

“But...I think it’s true.”

Joohyun did not respond.

“Remember in middle-school when I accidentally spilled juice all over you?”

Joohyun looked up and shook her head.

“Seungwan offered to help you wash it out in the bathroom, and you said no. I think that time was the first time Seungwan ever got mad at me, and I was so confused. And hurt.” Seulgi knit her fingers together and gazed down at them as she spoke. “I didn’t know how to talk to you for the longest time. I think...I think I even hated you because you took my best friend away.”

“I didn’t mean to, Seul,” Joohyun replied quietly.

“Wait, I’m not done. I...you know there are a lot of things I don’t understand, but do you remember the time I accidentally touched a girl and she ended up kissing me in front of her boyfriend?”

Joohyun chuckled lightly. “Yes, this one I remember. Seungwan ran in to save you from the girl that time. That girl was pretty relentless.”

“Then you went in just as the boy was about to punch me, and he ended up bruising you in the eye,” Seulgi said with a small smile. “Lots of people beat him up for hurting you after that.”

Joohyun scoffed. “Yes, people do extraordinarily stupid things for the strangest reasons sometimes.”

“But you protected me like you always did, and you were so cool and at that time, I remember thinking, ‘ah, this is called love too, isn’t it?’ The three of us—we’re a family.”

“We were so happy back then, weren’t we?” Joohyun said, her lips curling into a sad smile. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Seulgi shrugged. “We got older. We got a little less trusting. We learned to overthink because we learned to put labels on everything and we learned to categorize everything in these simple little bins of good and bad.”

Joohyun placed her soup on the empty chair beside her, suddenly sick to her stomach with the truth and the guilt roiling up inside. “I’m...I’m sorry, Seul,” she said, holding her stomach.

Seulgi shook her head. “We’re all guilty, unnie.”

“I’ve just...been such an idiot.” She rubbed her face with a hand, her walls suddenly too heavy for her to lift on her own. “I thought we could go back to the way things were before Wan left...before all my feelings got out of control and I...I let the emptiness eat me up and turn me into this...this petty, jealous, hollow person I hate. I didn’t want you two to see the mess I’d become. I wanted to be that perfect unnie in your eyes so badly, and in the end…I hurt you too.”

“We never thought you were perfect,” Seulgi said, glancing at Joohyun’s ruddy profile with the hint of a smile. “Do you know what Seungwan said to me when we first saw you?”

Joohyun met her eyes for the first time—caught up in her own mess, she hadn’t noticed the red edges around Seulgi’s eyes. Selfish to the end, Joohyun thought glumly. She had to be the worst big sister figure in the world. “No,” she replied quietly, crumpling further into herself.

“We were walking home when we saw you being crowded by the other kids, and Wannie pulled my arm really hard and said, ‘Look! That’s the new person! Isn’t she the most beautiful and the loneliest person you’ve ever seen? I wish I could be her friend and make her happy.’” Seulgi laughed lightly, slightly hoarser than Joohyun remembered. “Seungwan hasn’t changed a bit, has she?”

“No, she hasn’t.”

“See? It doesn’t matter. None of us are perfect. But Seungwan and I—we’ve loved you all these years just the same. Seungwan...she didn’t care that you liked singing to people—she just wanted you to be happy, even if she couldn’t be the one to make you happy. You know that, right unnie?”

Seulgi wrapped her arms around Joohyun and hooked her chin on her shoulder. “We both want you to be happy.”

Countless times since the accident, Joohyun once more felt small—vulnerable. Fresh tears welled in her eyes, the weights slid off her body one by one, and the darkest truths she’d cuffed herself to seemed to vanish into light—at least for this moment all she could feel was love. At least for this moment, the suffocating guilt left her, and she could breathe again.

She closed her eyes and allowed her arms to wrap around Seulgi’s back. She inhaled the scent of her childhood friend and, like a stray and battered boat finally reaching the shore, was safe.

Seulgi rubbed her back and listened to the muffled, arrhythmic cries of Joohyun’s heart dissolving into quiet sobs.

Long moments passed—both engulfed in their own swirling thoughts. Joohyun shifted, then pulled away from the embrace to wordlessly lay her head on Seulgi’s shoulder. Her hand swiped at her swollen eyes, and her stifled cries quieted down to gentle sniffling. Seulgi paid her head on hers and closed her eyes.

Two more hours would pass before a doctor, a tall, slim shaggy-haired woman with a single horn protruding from the center of her forehead, appeared and woke them up. The doctor had the kind of strained smile that bordered on resignation, plastered on by protocol rather than will. She ran through the notes on her clipboard emotionlessly and methodically, and Joohyun and Seulgi were left reeling on plastic waiting chairs.

“She is alive,” the doctor had said. “But several bones in her hips and legs were fractured badly, so her mobility may be compromised for the next several months. The good news is that her speedy arrival meant that the internal bleeding was able to be contained without further damage. It was fortunate that her spine, chest, and head sustained minimal trauma. Right now, all we can do is monitor her. When she wakes up, we will walk you through rehabilitation and physiotherapy. We are expecting a full recovery, but it cannot be guaranteed without take time and effort.”

“Can we see her?”

“Right,” The doctor said, flipping over several sheets on her clipboard. “As you might know, typically we would send one of our resident fairies to sing to the patients as a form of hypnotism—it’s a healthier alternative to anaesthesia because medicine can have unpredictable repercussions on supernatural creatures. Unfortunately, because jackalopes are immune to effects of musically-based curses, we’ve had to resort to medication.”

“What?”

“The anesthesia should wear off in a few hours, but she will need rest and constant monitoring through the night to make sure she is stable. I suggest you come back tomorrow if you want to assist in her recovery.”

Joohyun sat back in her chair, her heart hammering after the doctor departed. Everything around her came to a slow: the noises and the colours, Seulgi wrapping her arms around her, cheering and crying with relief, and her own arms, raising stiffly to return the embrace. Her heart throbbed louder than a jet plane. Seungwan was going to be okay.

Seungwan was immune to musical curses.

Wait.

This whole time—

“Seulgi,” Joohyun said, recoiling back. She grabbed her shoulders and looked her straight in her wide eyes. “D-did you hear that?”

“W-what’s wrong, unnie? You’re scaring me suddenly. Wan is going to be okay. Isn’t that great?”

“Yes, and I-I’m happy...but,” her eyes flick downwards. “I’m sorry, Seul, I just...don’t understand.”

Seulgi tilted her head. “What are you talking about?”

“They said Seungwan is immune to music curses. That doesn’t make any sense,” Joohyun said. She tightened her grip on Seulgi’s shoulder, causing the younger girl to flinch slightly. “Do you...do you think the doctor was lying? Maybe something happened in there and they didn’t tell us...w-what if it was something bad? Do you think they might know something we don’t?”

“Unnie, please,” Seulgi urged, “breathe. Calm down. Yes, that’s it—in and out—just take a breath and calm down for a moment.” She nudged Joohyun’s arms out, loosening the grip on her shoulder, and held her hands in her own. Her dark eyes shone with worry. “The doctor wouldn’t lie to us. That’s illegal.”

“But if she is immune...then...my songs...I don’t understand. When I sang to her, she...”

At this, Seulgi could not contain a smile. “I tried to tell you many times. Well, I didn’t know she was immune, so I don’t know what your songs did, but she has always been in love with you.”

“Seul—this can’t—”

No. Her smile fell away—Seulgi did not want to go through this again. No, no, no.

She tightened her grip on Joohyun’s hands. “Unnie, stop it,” she pleaded, her eyes prickling. “Stop pretending you didn’t know. Stop pretending you don’t see the way she looks at you and how happy you make her. Stop pretending she doesn’t make you happy too. I...I might just be a weird succubus, and I might not understand love the way you do, but it doesn’t mean I can’t see how much pain you’ve both been through. I know what you tell yourselves because neither of you think you deserve to be happy. We’re all messed up, but we’re still trying to pretend we’re in middle school because changing anything to find happiness is just so damn scary, and I just—I just—I just want us to be honest and happy and free, unnie, so please...stop.”

“Oh, Seulgi,” Joohyun murmured, slipping her hand out of Seulgi’s grip to wipe her cheek with the back of her hand. “Don’t cry, Seul, please don’t cry. Don’t cry...please. I’m sorry...I’m so sorry. You...You were trying your best all these years, weren’t you?”

Seulgi nodded vigorously, sniffling.

Joohyun reached up and ruffled her hair. “Thank you, Seul. For everything.” They exchanged a mirroring smile and her heart lifted. “And I can’t promise that I can always be happy, but I promise I’ll try. For now, we should both eat something, take a nap—maybe even a shower—then we’ll come back and see Seungwan. A-as much as I want to see her right now, the doctor said she needs to rest. But, um, I...I really want to be there when she wakes up. Is that alright?”

Seulgi grinned. It was as if the sun was finally breaking through a long, long storm.

“Yes.”

Notes: Holy crap, I did not expect to be back after less than two weeks!! I'm really hoping to finish this story before the end of June though, so I am going to try my very best with the last two chapters of the main story. 

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: 

• I am currently holding a giveaway for a hardcopy collection of Beauty and the Silver Beast and the Red Cape. This gorgeous full-colour book was created in appreciation of my readers, and I'm really excited to send this out to you. Though I am a humble teacher, I will be paying shipping costs as well. 
• TO ENTER, I've devised an optional quiz and survey HERE
  • I am always looking for feedback, so even if you are not interested in the book, I would be very, very thankful if you filled out the quick survey so I can get to know you beautiful people. 
  • The first draw will be on June 16th, but more draws might open up with enough interest. 
     
• As a relatively small writer on this site, I would also be very thankful for your support in spreading the word. Please visit this link and share it with any readers you may know. Follow me @fireroastedmoo for future updates on this project :)