“ No!”

Eunha screamed, and Yuju turned almost mechanically, an expression somewhere between sadness and relief on her face. Her lips moved minutely, and Eunha reached her just as she crumpled, spasming in her arms as blood gushed from her open wound. 

“Not like this, not again, no no no Yuna you can’t leave me behind like this again…” Eunha was inconsolable, clinging on to Yuju as tears blurred her vision. Behind her, a stunned SinB jogged up to them, still unsure what in the world had happened.

A sniper? But from where? There were plenty of tall buildings in the direction Yuju had been looking, but with the angle of entry judging from the wound, it didn’t seem to have come from the same direction. It made SinB nervous, but she still went to kneel by the still twitching Yuju and the absolutely broken Eunha, who seemed to be triggered by seeing Yuju shot in front of her.

“Eunha, she’s not dead, calm down.” SinB snapped at her best friend, examining Yuju a little nervously while worrying that the sniper might take another shot in the meantime. The wound was bleeding a lot, not surprising since it probably hit a vein and tore a lot of tissue. SinB was no expert at this sort of thing, but even she knew that letting Yuju bleed out was a bad idea. The shaman was wheezing weakly, and SinB could only hope that her windpipe wasn’t damaged as well. Death by asphyxiation wasn’t really any better than death by exsanguination. For Eunha’s sake, SinB sort of wanted to avoid either possibility. 

What the I’m not a medic.  

“Eunha, I need you to stop the bleeding. She’ll die if you don’t. Come on, snap out of it!” SinB knew she probably shouldn’t be yelling, but she didn’t have any medical supplies on her and Eunha was her best bet at this point for a quick stop-gap measure until they could get Yuju proper care. The gunslinger shook her almost catatonic best friend, and when that didn’t work immediately, she hardened herself and slapped Eunha sharply across the face. 

Eunha reeled back, tears still running down her face. SinB took her by the shoulders, staring her in the eyes.

“Eunha, Yuju will be fine. But I need you to cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding. We can save her still, but I need you to do this. You can do this.”

Eunha seemed to come back to herself, just a little, at the shred of hope SinB dangled before her. Hands shaking, the fire mage grasped Yuju’s hand, the shaman having gone deathly pale  and was barely breathing in the seconds since the shot. Her eyes were glassy, and Eunha choked back a sob as she shook her head, trying to focus instead on the bright red staining the wound. Wisps of flame smoked out of her fingers, wavering and flickering until she in a deep breath, trying to regain enough control in order to do what was needed. 

The sound of sizzling flesh made fresh tears spill out of Eunha’s eyes, whispering apologies to Yuju as she seared the wound to stop the bleeding. SinB gripped Eunha’s shoulder in support, and when the mage was done, SinB moved in and picked Yuju up, the lean shaman barely seeming to weigh anything in her arms. Eunha rose with her, still hyper focused on Yuju’s face but allowing SinB to take the lead, her own mind blank with shock and grief. It was as if she were back in the war, watching her Yuna bleed to death in front of her without being able to do anything. No, things wouldn’t be the same this time. She wouldn’t let it. 

I have power now. Taking Yuju’s cool hand in hers, Eunha blazed with energy that even SinB could feel, the gunslinger flicking a quick glance at her best friend, sensing the flow of magical power that stabilized Yuju’s faltering heartbeat. Eunha was no healer, but this much she could do. 

“Come on, I know a place where we can get her patched up.” 

SinB picked up the pace, and Eunha kept up with her, even though the gunslinger was moving fast. For Yuju, Eunha would be strong. She would do anything for her. 

Neither of them spared a glance for the flashing light on SinB’s wrist, even as they ran into the encroaching night. They had little time to lose, with Yuju’s life on the line. If there was a chance to save her, they would take it, no matter how slim the odds.

It was the least they could do. The only thing left, to a despairing Eunha. History would not, could not be allowed to repeat itself. Never again, Eunha swore to herself, gritting her teeth. 

I’ll save you this time. I won’t let anyone take you from me. Not this time.

Yerin kept her head down as she was left behind with the director, Heechul gripping her shoulder reassuringly before he left. She didn’t react then, and wouldn’t react now, well aware of the man’s reputation within the company. 

Driven, ambitious, and surprisingly uncorrupt by company standards. Completely devoted to his work, to the point where it was almost a surprise that he had, at some point, married and had a daughter, upon whom he doted. 

A daughter she had offended before and rebuffed again lately. Yerin’s expression grew ironic. She had not forgotten the request that had sent her on her final, nearly fatal mission to Seongnam more than three years ago. She could not prove it, but it had been adjacent to this man’s work, and it didn’t take much to link the dots. 

Was it really a coincidence that she had upset Seo Hee only a few weeks prior to being sent on a mission that nearly killed her? Director Han was notoriously protective of his daughter, and Yerin had been young and cocky at the time, unaware of the girl’s identity at the party and never one to turn down a pretty girl wanting to get in her pants anyway. That said girl turned out to be unusually clingy and well connected had not figured in her plans. 

Yerin didn’t really regret that part of her life, she certainly couldn’t turn back time and change how she behaved. It had been a coping mechanism of sorts. Taking pleasure where she could, living every day as if it were her last; she had been fully aware of her status as a disposable tool for the company, and was determined to seize whatever enjoyment she could out of it while she still could. 

All things considered, a part of her was still surprised she had waited so long with Yuju. She had picked up her puppy almost five years ago, partially out of curiosity, but also feeling an odd kinship when she had first seen the girl. Something about Yuju had captivated her from the start, and it hadn’t been physical attraction at first; Yuju had been dangerously scrawny then, hardly the vision of beauty she had eventually grown up into. 

Then again, it hadn’t taken all that long for her to notice what she picked up. That she had taken so long to make a move on Yuju despite having her all to herself for the better part of four years was a miracle in itself. For some reason, she had just wanted to take care of the other girl, enjoyed watching Yuju’s reluctance when she pushed the boundaries of physical intimacy between them, but never getting close enough to make a difference. In a way, Yuju had been that last ray of innocence in her life, and even if she hadn’t been conscious of it at the time, Yerin had wanted nothing more than to protect that.

Even now, she was still trying her best to protect her puppy in the only way she knew how. It still hurt to not be physically by her side, but there was nothing she could do for Yuju’s condition, unlike what Eunha could do. Yerin was a woman of action, and she couldn’t find it in herself to just sit around and watch Yuju suffer without at least trying to figure out a way to help. 

So here she was now, answering the seemingly idle questions from the director, mostly in relation to the fateful raid on Mireu, with a particular focus on the dragon’s capabilities. It was a careful line to tread between revealing enough and revealing too much, and it wasn’t as if it were a secret that they had a pair of powerful mages on their team. 

Yerin was careful to mask how crucial Yuju had been to the entire operation, instinctively wanting to protect her puppy from scrutiny. This was ironically helped along by the fact that she had spent a good half of the fight away from the main battle, after getting tossed out of the tower mid-fight. The chain of events that had gotten her identified was also her trump card in claiming ignorance of certain details. The director seemed mildly disappointed by this, but Yerin cleverly deflected more attention onto the gear the Spartans had given them instead. Best to draw Tristar’s attention to the fact that their allies were holding back from them. If she was lucky, she might even get to see them take swipes at each other in her lifetime. 

“Interesting. Awakened creatures do seem to have a natural affinity for magic that Awakened humans lack. We actually have to learn how to control the gift, but the beasts seem to know instinctively how to do so from the start.” 

The director mused aloud as he examined the material samples Yerin had brought. Yerin stood quietly by the side, safely out of the way and the very picture of an obedient operative. As much as the Research department creeped her out on an instinctual level, Yerin knew that this was the place she needed to be if she were to dig up any useful info to help Yuju with. 

Tristar was years ahead of the competition in terms of magical research, and a lot of it was still classified for exclusive use within the company and not released for mass market. The latest treatments and experimental drugs were reserved only for the higher echelons, and were not anything money could buy. It was not fair, but life rarely was. Yerin knew this, accepted it, and was taking steps to circumvent that anyway. Her only priority was Yuju’s wellbeing, and if she had to lie and murder her way to it, she would do so, and gladly.

“Seo Hee has been pestering you, I hear.”

The director said suddenly, catching Yerin by surprise. Her only outward response was a small twitch, but the man did not sound angry, only mildly curious. She could feel his piercing eyes on her, and she lowered her head, making a small sound of assent. The director sighed.

“Of all the toys she wants, she has to pick the one with thorns.” He shook his head. “I know what you are, Jung Yerin. You’re too cold. Good for the work we put you to perhaps, but I don’t want you anywhere near my daughter.”

Good, I don’t want anything to do with her either. Yerin nodded coolly, projecting the persona he wanted to see, that of a coldly ruthless operative only interested in herself. Which, to be honest, wasn’t too far from the truth. Yerin had no illusions of herself, for all that her gift was precisely that. She could lie to the entire world, but she always knew exactly what she was. 

“Heechul wants to use you to retake control of Operations, you know? As if I can’t see that...he has a good head on his shoulders, but too ambitious, that one.” The director tsked lowly, pacing as he gathered his thoughts.

Yerin hid a smirk, of course Heechul had been aiming high, but that also put him in direct conflict with Director Han’s interests. For whatever reason, he had placed his own daughter in Ops, and if Yerin knew anything about corp politics, no one ever relinquished power willingly. Seo Hee was there to stay, for better or worse. The only question was, what did Director Han intend to do with them then? 

“A smart boy, Heechul is. Useful, just as you are. But you are smart too, aren’t you? Evading notice for so many years...one almost wonders why you took that run again against Mireu. You had to know how much scrutiny that would put you under. Curious, indeed…”

Yerin’s jaw tightened subtly, her shoulders tensing at the line of questioning. Of course, if she had been on her own, there was no way she would have gotten into anything that would draw attention to herself. But she had developed loyalties beyond herself, and sometimes that led to making suboptimal choices with regards to her own safety. Such as what she was doing currently, putting herself back in chains just for the opportunity to snoop around. 

The old her would have been aghast at the risks she was taking, but to Yerin, Yuju was worth all that and more. She had changed willingly for the shaman, and even if it didn’t necessarily make her a better person, she was no longer the same as she was prior to meeting the girl who would become the love of her life. She wasn’t about to explain all that to an enemy though, and she couldn’t risk exposing her external attachments. Any weakness she showed would be used against her, and her blood ran cold at the thought of Tristar targeting Yuju for any reason. 

“And don’t give me all that nonsense about loyalty to the corporation. I know you, Ms. Jung. You were always looking out for yourself. It’s how all of you were raised, I expect nothing less.” Director Han sounded dismissive, and Yerin scowled, openly this time, since the man clearly wasn’t one to fall for the usual bluffs.

“I owed a debt to the Immortal, and to my mentor. I do understand obligation, Director.”

It was not exactly a lie, but it was not the whole truth. It would have to be good enough, since it was all she could offer without revealing her true loyalties. Yerin kept her face cold, as if offended that the director would consider her so devoid of principles. 

She always did know how to read the room and adjust her act accordingly. The director seemed satisfied by her response, if only for the moment. Yerin let out a silent breath as he moved on from the topic. It was always difficult dealing with intelligent foes. She had to stay on guard the entire time and…

A sudden wrenching agony tore through her chest, and it was all Yerin could do not to double over in pain. She went white in the face, beads of sweat gathering at her hairline and slicking down unseen as her nails dug into the palms of her clenched fists in an effort to stay focused. A deep unease ran through her, worry and fear flashing through her eyes before she squeezed them shut and shoved those emotions aside with ruthless efficiency, locking them behind a wall before they could give her away.

She was still behind enemy lines, and could not afford any moment of weakness. Yet, despite herself, she could not help but worry, clinging on impotently to her Bond with Yuju, cursing for the first time that she couldn’t reach as far as Yuju could, or sense anything beyond the basics. 

Something was wrong though, she was sure. Yuju wasn’t answering her, and Yuju was always there, no matter what happened. Yerin had underestimated how much she relied on her puppy’s comforting presence in the depths of her soul, and the sudden silence was deafening. It left her on edge, and for the first time Yerin regretted leaving her puppy’s side. She couldn’t see for herself what had happened, and could only comfort herself with the fact that Yuju was, at the very least, still alive. It was scant hope to cling onto, but it was all she had for now.

Eyes burning, Yerin forced down her fears, willing herself to be still. She could do no good to anyone if she were to break cover right now. Patience had never been such a trial, but she would endure. What else was there left to her? She had chosen her path, and had to cleave to it, though it may take her through fire and flame. 

Hold on puppy. Just a while more…

I love you so much. Please be safe. I would be lost without you.

A prayer sent on silent wings, though she never had the luxury of faith. Jung Yerin only ever believed in herself, and by extension, the woman who had become the center of her universe. No gods, none other, except you, she had whispered that first night they had come together. Yuju was her faith, the altar upon which she worshipped, with her but a humble devotee, unworthy yet all the more blessed for the sacrament they shared. 

Yuju was the one light in her soul. Yerin would do anything for her. Her eyes hardened subtly. There would be hell to pay if someone hurt her. She would make sure of that.

Sowon let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding when she saw Yuju fall. Her heart was still in from when the shaman had seemed to look directly at her across the impossible distance. There was no way Yuju could have seen her from that far off, but Sowon could not shake the terror of that moment, when Yuju seemed to lock eyes with her through the scope of her rifle.

Her body hadn’t been able to move, rooted to the spot like a mouse held in terror of the snake intent on making it its dinner. It was a prey reflex, something so primal that Sowon didn’t expect it in the slightest, and couldn’t control for the life of her. In that moment, she understood exactly what SinB meant about Yuju being downright terrifying. Even through a scope almost a whole kilometer away, Sowon had felt the chill of being targeted by an apex predator. Whoever that was, it was not the usual Yuju they knew and cared about. It was something else, the thing that Sowon feared would be a threat to them all. 

But someone else had taken the shot. Sowon got up from her ready position, hands still shaking minutely. She switched channels to ring for Umji, a sinking feeling in her chest. She wasn’t the only one with a sniper rifle out here tonight, and she would rather have spared her baby the trauma of having to take that shot. 

Umji didn’t respond immediately, but Sowon caught a tiny sniffling through the comms, almost mistaking it for static, but then years of maternal instinct kicked in, identifying the sound for what it was. 

“Umji-yah, are you alright?” Sowon was already moving, rapidly gathering her equipment and bounding down the stairs of the roof she had chosen. It would take her at least ten minutes to relocate to where Umji was, but it was ten minutes too long for her anxious self. Umji needed her, and Sowon hated every minute she was away from her baby. She should never have let her come along, should not have put her in danger like this.

But she did what you couldn’t.  

Sowon grunted as she rushed her way up to the vantage point she had left Umji alone at earlier. Her young charge was still crouched by her equipment, a sniper rifle that was almost a twin to the one she had been holding earlier next to her. Sowon dropped her gear and rushed to embrace the sobbing Umji.

“Shhh it’s okay baby, you did well…”

Umji was shaking in her arms, and Sowon inwardly cursed herself for putting the young hacker in this position. Ideally, Umji was only there to observe tonight, and to coordinate their movements as necessary. That the girl insisted on bringing her modified rifle was an indulgence Sowon was willing to give her, but the ex-soldier had fully intended on taking the shot herself if it ever came down to that. 

God knows she had been hopeful enough when Eunha appeared to be succeeding at calming Yuju down, but when Yuju started glowing ominously, Sowon’s heart sank. For all she talked about having to put Yuju down, she didn’t actually want to do so. Yuju was a friend, a comrade from the old days, and Sowon never wanted it to come to this. But the choice was between the rest of them and one person, and Sowon knew something about hard choices. She could not afford to let Yuju run wild and eventually be hunted down by bounty hunters who would then sell her off to the highest bidder. Better to nip the threat in the bud and give her a dignified end. 

At least, that was the plan. She hadn’t expected to be frozen to the spot in that moment, her heart rate practically tripling from the stress of Yuju’s death stare. It wasn’t normal, and Sowon still felt a chill when recalling the sensation of being held in that gaze. Yuju had known of her intent somehow, and that knowledge had been communicated clearly in the look the shaman had given her. Cold, accusatory, betrayed. It made her feel guiltier than she already did, underneath the sheer terror of the prey reflex. 

But how had Umji been able to take the shot? Granted, Yuju’s attention had been on her, so maybe that had given Umji the opening to do so. Still, Sowon had not expected gentle Umji to take that kind of initiative. Shooting a live target was never easy, and especially not when that target was someone you knew personally. It took a lot of nerve to pull the trigger, and while Sowon was a battle hardened soldier, Umji definitely wasn’t in this lifetime. Sowon had protected her all this time, but she had failed in this one instance. 

Umji should never have had to shoot a friend. Hell, if Sowon had her way, she never even wanted Umji to be on the field, even if it were just in this limited capacity. But Umji had insisted on learning how to, and Sowon had grudgingly agreed, if only to placate her baby girl. She couldn’t protect Umji forever, and the feeling .  

“I...I can’t believe I…” Umji stammered in starts, curled up in Sowon’s lap as she rested her head against her mother figure’s chest. Her hands were still trembling, her mind replaying in crystal clarity the red blossoming on Yuju like a fatal flower. 

Head or heart, head is more certain, but the chest is a bigger target. Torso shots can disable even if you don’t get the kill instantly. Every enemy you disable is one less to bother your team.

Eunha’s lessons had always been stoically practical. As Sowon had said, sniping was a lot more than just being able to shoot straight. Picking your targets, choice of terrain, it was all the adjacent knowledge that differentiated a sniper from a simple marksman. Umji had a lot of questions, but Eunha never talked about how she knew all these, and Umji didn’t push her on that. Everyone has the right to a few secrets.

Umji had been paying attention to Sowon’s vitals even in the midst of keeping an eye on what was going on between Eunha and Yuju. Multitasking came naturally to Umji, who was used to what would have been data overload to any other person. So when Yuju had flared up, Umji had known that Sowon would proceed with Plan B, the plan neither of them liked, but knew was necessary anyway. 

But when the shot she expected had not come, Umji had been concerned. Even more concerning was when Yuju suddenly stared in the direction where she knew Sowon was located, the action coinciding with the sudden spiking of the leader’s heart rate at the exact same time, to the point where Umji thought she was having a heart attack. 

It was a combination of fear for Sowon and the adrenaline of the moment that moved Umji to act. Her rifle was already set up, since she was technically supposed to be backup, and when that moment came upon her, it was more habit born of practice that led her through the motions. Just like the simulations, she hypnotized herself with that thought. It’s not that hard.

It really wasn’t. Deep down, Umji never liked the idea of putting Yuju down at all, but if Sowon was threatened somehow? Even the gentlest of bunnies would bite when forced into a corner. Sowon had raised her, guarding and protecting her all her life. Umji would do no less for the woman she considered her only family. 

And yet, she still hesitated in the microsecond before pulling the trigger, her resolution wavering in that crucial moment. Did Yuju deserve this? Most assuredly not, all things considered. Something was clearly wrong with her, yes, but Umji had always teetered on the edge between ‘capture’ and ‘kill’. Not only for Yuju’s sake, but also for Eunha’s.

She was never as ruthless as Sowon had to be. Why would she have to be, when Sowon always stood before her and deflected all danger away? She had been wracking her brains for a better solution, ever since Sowon had come up with the plan. Her brilliance with mechanics had been sorely tested, but she never gave up. Any chance to disable Yuju instead of killing her was ideal, but the range at which they had to take the shot stymied most of her efforts. Even if she did somehow manage to modify a tranquilizer for delivery with her high-powered rifle, the sheer impact would still come damn close to killing Yuju anyway. Physics couldn’t be denied, at least not without some help from magic, which was unfortunately something she did not have. 

Still, she tried. Yuju deserved that much of an effort. She never told Sowon about it, but Sowon had silently encouraged her in her efforts anyway. None of them wanted to murder a friend, and it was murder, even if it were in self defense. The end result of Umji’s tinkering had been iffy at best, a shot in the dark. The odds of Yuju dying was still entirely too high. Every single simulation she ran gave depressing statistics, but at least it was a better than zero chance of survival. It was the best she could manage under the circumstances.

It would have to do. Umji took the shot, and her heart had flown out alongside in the spiralling path of her modified bullet. Part of her wanted to miss, but at the same time, she couldn’t, not when Sowon seemed to be caught in some sort of physical distress. She would always choose her mother over her friends. It was a no brainer.

I’m so sorry…  

The reality of her shot cutting Yuju down hit her belatedly after the fact, horror and nausea fighting their way up as she slumped to the ground, gagging silently. The vivid red spreading across Yuju’s skin ran like a nightmare on loop in her mind, something no simulation could ever have properly prepared her for. Calculating impact damage and running the numbers was simply not the same as seeing the actual reality of metal striking vulnerable flesh. 

So much blood...she could die...and that’s on me.

I did that.

Eunha would never forgive me.

I don’t know if I forgive me.

The tears that came were a natural result. Even after Sowon arrived to gather her up into a comforting embrace, Umji was still in a state of shock and self loathing. For all that she tried to justify what she did to herself, she couldn’t reconcile the fact that she had shot a friend. Who could be dead. Dying. Because of her. 

“It’s not your fault, Umji...it’s mine. I should have been the one.” 

Sowon held Umji close, rubbing the small of the younger’s back soothingly. She had failed her baby, exposing her to such a cruel choice. Guilt and grief warred within her, but the rational soldier within her continued keeping a distracted eye on the flashing dot indicating SinB’s position. The gunslinger was moving rapidly, towards an increasingly familiar location. Sowon in a quick breath, the gears in her head turning at the new information.

They wouldn’t be headed to a doctor for no reason. There was still a chance. 

Umji was in no state to walk on her own, but Sowon was strong enough to carry her. Some of their equipment she stashed out of sight, the ones she couldn’t conveniently carry while her hands were full with Umji. They could come back for these later. 

Right now, the important thing was rendezvousing with SinB and Eunha. For more reasons than one, Sowon needed to confirm the state Yuju was in. The fallout from today would be huge, but Sowon had accepted that there would be consequences. Eunha would be furious, and depending on whether Umji’s solution had worked…

Regardless, she would take the blame. It was her idea. Her plan. Who really took the shot didn’t matter. She would bear the weight of Eunha’s fury when the time came. Sowon closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself, before reopening them with a set expression.

She had made that choice, and it was time to face the consequences. For better or worse, this was where that path had led her. She would not back away, not now. 

God, if you exist, let it all work out somehow.

Or would her hands once again be stained in blood? It wouldn’t be a first. It may not even be the last. Sowon sighed. What choice did I have? I could not stand by and let innocents die.

Yuju’s blood was on her hands. She wasn’t sure if Eunha would ever forgive her. But it was the only decision she could have taken, with the information they had. 

The right thing was not always the good choice. There rarely was a good choice, in her experience. Someone always had to pay the price. 

Question was, was the price worth the result?

Sowon didn’t know. There were no answers to be found here. If there were any, they lay within the clinic SinB and Eunha were even now rushing towards. Yuju’s life lay in the balance, as did the exact weight of her sins. 

This was the burden she had to bear. She wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.

I will shoulder that cross, as I always have. If anyone must suffer, let it be me.

Let it be me.