Eunha sat by the comatose Yuju, the sight eerily reminiscent of the scene from nearly six months ago, where Yuju had also been stricken unconscious after the showdown with the imugi. The tiny mage said little, cradling Yuju’s hand in her own small ones, channeling some of her mana over in small intervals, for fear that the unconscious shaman might require it.

The surgery had been successful, or at least as successful as it could be, which was to say that Yuju survived the first night, though tubes had to be inserted to help her breathe for now. There was only so much even a genius like Dr. Lee could do on short notice, and she had to prioritize. The shaman needed to recover her strength before the surgeon could proceed with the next round of reconstructive surgery to properly repair the damage, but at least she had managed to stabilize the wounded area for now. 

There was little she could do for the vocal cords at the moment, short of regrowing them from scratch and installing it, but that was delicate work and would take a great deal of time and effort. Even so, the doctor couldn’t say for sure that she would be able to properly restore function to that area. Managing to stem the bleeding and stimulate repair to the damaged blood vessels had been the main focus of the initial surgery to save the patient’s life, and losing one’s voice was a tiny price to pay in comparison. 

Eunha couldn’t complain about that. In fact, she complained very little, her eyes red from crying too much. SinB hovered like a mother hen over her best friend, making sure Eunha ate and rested properly, though it was somewhat unnerving how compliant Eunha was to her requests. SinB clearly remembered how Eunha had been quite impossible to deal with following Yuju’s coma after the imugi’s death, and had been expecting a repeat performance this time as well.

So it was with surprise and not a little relief when Eunha actually agreed to eat and sleep when she was asked to, though the fire mage did insist on moving a tiny cot into the same room where Yuju was recuperating. It was a small enough request, and SinB couldn’t blame the girl for wanting to stay near Yuju. If someone she cared about was this grievously wounded, SinB would want to stay close too. 

The upside of Eunha not saying much also saved SinB the trouble of having to explain why Sowon, and by extension Umji, were nowhere around them for the last five days. That didn’t mean they weren’t entirely present, since when SinB went to pay Dr. Lee for her services, the doctor had simply waved her off and stated that Sowon had covered all expenses remotely. 

The gesture was so very much like the leader, but it still hurt SinB to know that Sowon had been responsible for Yuju’s state in the first place. It felt all too much like a betrayal, even if it hadn’t been aimed at her directly. SinB might have been more than a little afraid of Yuju many times now, but so long as the shaman hadn’t been a threat to her and her own, she was willing to let things slide, if only for Eunha’s sake. 

That and, despite everything, Yuju was her friend, and had saved her life more than once in the year they had been running the shadows together. There were so few genuinely good and kind people in the shadows, but SinB trusted her gut. Yuju was the most genuine person she had ever come across, and it showed in her every act. Save for the few times when Yuju had seemed like a different person entirely, the shaman could barely hurt a fly. It was still shocking to her that Sowon was able to overlook all that and go for the nuclear option. She hadn’t expected that of the woman, not at all.

It seemed like she barely understood Sowon, even after all this time. SinB sighed, pushing the door open fully to step into the small side room Dr. Lee had cleared out for them. All ongoing expenses for the treatment were being borne by their absent leader, and SinB wasn’t shy about using it. It was the least Sowon could do after putting Yuju out of commission like this. 

“How is she?” The same question, repeated every day. Yuju was pale still, sustained via intravenous drip and a breathing tube that made her look even more fragile than usual. The shaman hadn’t woken up in the five days since, though the doctor assured them that it was normal to take some time before the girl regained consciousness. There had been a mild sedative in the IV to allow the shaman to rest through the worst of the initial pain, though that had been taken off after the first day. Painkillers could be applied later, when the girl woke up, but so long as Yuju remained asleep, there would be no need for that right now.

Yuju hadn’t woken up though. But her body was understandably still weak, and from the little Eunha had spoken early on, it seemed that her soul form was dim, as if it had gone into dormancy. SinB didn’t quite understand what that meant, but Eunha didn’t seem too worried at the time. 

At least, that was if SinB hadn’t caught her going pale from exhaustion a few times while channeling to the comatose girl. Eunha wouldn’t budge on that particular act, though she did agree to space out the sessions to keep from exhausting herself. As SinB argued, if Eunha collapsed, who would be left to help Yuju? It was a good argument, and Eunha started pacing herself more regularly, with a lot of supervision from SinB. 

Dr. Lee had been quite fascinated with Eunha’s magical intervention, though SinB refused to let the curious doctor in when Eunha was at work. One, the distraction could be bad for the mage; and two, SinB didn’t quite trust meddling researchers. She had grown up with stories about how Awakened folks had often been carted off and experimented on to try and unlock the secrets of magic. It didn’t leave her with a lot of trust for people in that field, especially not after she had seen how some people she had known being taken away and never come back. 

The doctor might seem harmless enough, but SinB wasn’t taking any chances. Better to be safe than sorry when it came to her family’s safety. The responsibility of keeping their little unit safe fell on her shoulders now, but SinB was keenly aware that Sowon still came by the area from time to time. She never actually saw the leader, but the gunslinger’s instincts rarely failed her in this respect. Sowon was still watching over them, and it wouldn’t surprise SinB if Umji had also tapped into all the cameras in this zone to monitor them. 

The surveillance should have irked her, but SinB felt oddly comforted for some reason. Sowon still cared, even if part of it was probably to keep an eye on the situation in case Yuju woke up. SinB was only one person, and she had to protect herself as well as the two magic users behind her. It was no small duty, and SinB was only just starting to understand the weight of Sowon’s burden, if only a little.

Sowon had willingly taken on the responsibility of the team’s wellbeing, all six of them radically distinct individuals from different walks of life. SinB and Eunha had grown up on the streets after SinB’s parents died on a mission, Umji had been a rescue from an underground lab conducting illegal human experimentation, and Yerin had clearly led quite an exciting life as a Tristar agent before falling into their company. 

SinB didn’t know as much about Yuju, but from the occasional slips between Yerin and Yuju, the shaman had been a wandering vagrant in the wilderness for several years at least. Which was no small feat, considering the number of mutant creatures and Awakened beasts roaming the wilds. Most regular people didn’t travel much these days, and only in armored convoys when they had to. It was not safe in the wilds, half reclaimed by nature with magic spurring the conversion. For someone to have survived there for years on their own, well, it said a lot about what Yuju was capable of. 

It couldn’t have been easy managing all of them, but Sowon did it anyway. Taken on everything by herself, never showing weakness or hesitation when decisions needed to be made. SinB didn’t understand how she did it, but it had worked for a good long while. At least until everything had fallen apart in the last few weeks, and the gunslinger desperately missed the stability of having the team around her. It was safer when they were all together, better somehow. She missed them all, even if she would never admit it out loud. 

“She feels so far away…”

Eunha’s reply interrupted SinB’s wandering thoughts, the mage’s voice a little dreamy and faraway herself. SinB frowned, recognizing the signs. Eunha was not quite on this plane right now, but that was not unusual. The fire mage had been trying to wake Yuju up in the last couple of days, or at least prod the shaman’s subconsciousness into responding somehow. 

Thus far, she had failed. That didn’t stop her from trying though, and SinB didn’t have the heart to get her to stop. Yuju did stay comatose for more than two weeks before, five days was barely anything in comparison. Eunha needed something to distract herself with, and SinB spoke to her often enough to try and ground the mage in reality, but until Yuju woke up, Eunha’s heart wouldn’t be settled. SinB knew this, and let her best friend be. She would do what she can, even if it wasn’t much. As long as Eunha was safe and well, it was enough.

“You should get some rest,” SinB observed astutely, seeing the minor stress lines at the edges of Eunha’s eyes, because of course the mage was exerting herself again in trying to reach Yuju. Eunha paused, lowering her chin even further as her fingers caressed the back of Yuju’s hand.

“I can’t hear her, SinB...it’s like she doesn’t want to wake up.” Eunha sounded a little lost, and the gunslinger sighed, pulling up a second chair to sit by her dejected best friend.

“She was just hurt really badly. Give her time.” It wasn’t the first time SinB had said it, and it didn’t sound convincing even to herself. Eunha could see and sense a lot more than SinB could, and if the fire mage was right about this, SinB suspected that Yuju knew exactly who shot her, and the betrayal had clearly broken the shaman’s heart. It would have hurt her if she had been in Yuju’s shoes for sure, and she couldn’t blame the shaman for wanting to stay asleep for now.

“How could anyone hurt her like this?” Eunha’s other hand reached up to smooth Yuju’s messy fringe, trailing down to trace her eyebrows and curving down the angled planes of her face. Yuju’s cheekbones stood out starkly in her growing emaciation, and there was a strange beauty in that frailty. SinB hung her head, unable and unwilling to answer. There were no right answers to this question, not in this situation.

“Sowon hasn’t come by.” 

Eunha said suddenly, and SinB tensed, jerking up to eye her childhood friend nervously. Eunha was still fixated on Yuju, tenderly caressing the sleeping shaman’s face, but her tone had grown sharp. SinB shifted uncomfortably.

“She’s been around.” This was not a lie, if around meant somewhere in the area. “She’s been following up on a few things.” Again, to the best of SinB’s knowledge, Sowon had been investigating something in the last few awkward communications they had exchanged. SinB had kept her end of the bargain and kept Sowon updated about Yuju’s condition, though there was a tension whenever they talked now. 

For better or worse, SinB had come to find it difficult to trust Sowon fully now, and she hated the feeling. Hated the thought that Sowon could potentially hurt one of their own if she felt justified to. It was a thorn she couldn’t pull from her heart, and it poisoned the easy trust they once had. SinB didn’t know if they could ever go back from this. Everything was so complicated now, and she didn’t know how to handle it. Give her a problem she could shoot anytime, not this. This was just too hard.

“I know it was her, you know.”

Eunha’s voice was almost deliberately casual, as if she were suppressing her emotions to remain calm on the surface. SinB looked over at her, startled. The fire mage’s head was still bowed, playing with the fingers on Yuju’s hand. It was as if she was distracting herself from the matter at hand, though the edge in her voice said all it needed.

“Sojung hasn’t changed that much after all this time. She would do this. I should have seen it coming.” Eunha sounded bitter, almost weary. The tiny mage closed her eyes.

“I just never thought she would go this far. Yuju is one of us...how could she?”

“You knew?” SinB squeaked out after a long moment, not knowing how best to respond. She had imagined Eunha to be angrier, but this level of control seemed scarier somehow. It made Eunha seem more distant, almost like a stranger. SinB didn’t like the feeling, as if her best friend had gone and changed behind her back.

“If it were Tristar or anyone else, none of us would have made it here in time after the shot.”

Eunha sounded tired. She had been upset and agitated at the time, but in the last few days when she had time to think back on the situation, the whole thing had smelled odd to her. If there had been a legitimate ambush by hostiles, there should have been a follow up raid to either confirm the kill or finish the rest of them at least, but there had been none. That in itself was suspicious enough. Put together with Sowon’s behavior prior to this, Eunha had been able to connect the dots easily enough. She wasn’t sure at first, but SinB’s shifty behavior said multitudes, as did Sowon’s failure to show up to check on Yuju in person. 

“Eunha…” SinB didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t defend what Sowon did. Her continued presence here indicated where she had chosen to stand, and she knew Eunha understood it. They had that understanding between them at least. SinB just didn’t know if it was enough.

“It’s not your fault.” Eunha shook her head, then chuckled softly.

“I would have thought she would have come to look me in the face at least, after doing something like that. Never took her for a coward.”

“She did want to come!” SinB defended Sowon almost automatically, then checked herself with a wince. “I...I told her to go away though. Didn’t think you would want to see her now.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” There was an almost dangerous edge to Eunha’s voice, but she hid it with some effort, one of her hands shifting to clench into a fist on the sheets. 

“I don’t know what I’d do if I saw her now. You did the right thing in sending her away.”

“You...you aren’t upset with me?” For not telling you. SinB kneaded at her knees nervously, anxious. She didn’t know if what she did was the best decision for everyone involved, but she just wanted to protect them all the best she could. She hoped Eunha could understand that.

“I am angry, but not with you.” Eunha sounded almost gentle, but SinB could read the tightly reined in frustration underneath. That familiar reaction was a little more reassuring. Eunha was doing her best to not do anything precipitous, and that put SinB on familiar ground. 

“You know she had her reasons…” SinB began, only to be cut off by Eunha’s sharp retort.

“Yuju could have died. I could have lost her again…” Eunha shuddered, her voice tapering off.

“It’s a good thing Yuju made it. If she hadn’t…” 

Near invisible flames ghosted into existence around her, and SinB backed up a little, feeling the temperature go up several degrees in an instant. Eunha controlled herself with some effort.

“Anyway, I don’t want to see her right now.” I might do something I regret if I did.

SinB let out a small sigh. In a way, it was a relief not to have to hide the truth from Eunha, but the truth in this case was still awfully cruel. There were no good ways to go about this, but SinB inwardly congratulated herself on making the right choice. It was already bad enough that this had happened, she didn’t need her best friend and her girlfriend getting into a fight on top of it.

“Are you going to try anything with Yuju?” 

Changing the subject seemed safer for the time being. SinB didn’t want Eunha to dwell on what Sowon had done, unforgivable as it was. Better to redirect her focus to Yuju, who did need the attention anyway and was a safer outlet for Eunha’s emotions right now. 

Eunha’s gaze softened as she regarded the comatose Yuju. Her priority was still with Yuju. Any scores she had to settle with Sowon could come later, after Yuju was better. She would get better. Eunha believed, and would do anything to make that come true.

“I don’t know how to heal her, but I can try to forge a connection to bring her back.” 

Staying comatose for long periods of time wasn’t good for Yuju’s body, even if this initial period was useful in letting her recover without being awake to feel the pain. Eunha had to remind herself to be patient, let Yuju heal more, before taking any drastic steps. 

Maybe Yuju might even wake up without needing her intervention, but Eunha had her doubts. Even during Yuju’s previous coma, the shaman had been more astrally present in comparison, just severely weakened and on the verge of falling apart due to the strain. This felt different somehow, and it was making Eunha nervous. 

“Just know I’ll always be on your side, whatever you choose.”

Eunha did know, and she turned slightly, acknowledging SinB’s words with a small nod and grateful look. The gunslinger reached forward, squeezing the mage’s shoulder reassuringly, before backing out of the room to give the pair some space to be alone. 

Eunha turned back to Yuju, pulling the shaman’s limp hand up to her lips and kissing the back of that pale hand. Yuju looked so innocent and peaceful now, and whatever spirit had been possessing her before didn’t seem able to surface and take control while she was in this state. It was a minor mercy, but most welcome at this time. Eunha didn’t think she could deal with that spirit charitably if it were to appear at this moment.

“Come back safe to me,” she whispered, and after a long pause, added, “I miss you.”

Her voice was trembling, but at least there was no one else to notice. A single tear ran down her face, and Eunha wiped it away with the back of her hand. I wish you remembered what we shared, once upon a time. But it was too much to ask, and she couldn’t even give it voice, because she knew that much.

Yuju wasn’t her Yuna, not anymore. She repeated it to herself often enough, and sometimes she could even keep it straight in her head, but still her heart yearned for more. It wasn’t enough to just be close to her like this, and Eunha knew she was being greedy, but she couldn’t help herself. She was jealous of what Yuju shared with Yerin in this lifetime, wished that she could take the assassin’s place in Yuju’s regard. She wasn’t as selfless as she tried to pretend to be, even though she tried. She tried, because above everything else, she wanted Yuju to be happy.

There were times when Eunha even thought that Yuju could have returned her feelings, just a little. It was in the little moments when Yuju relaxed into her touch, just like old times. The natural way she would take her hand, and protect her from imminent danger without care for herself. The intensity with which she listened, even if she weren’t making eye contact at the time, her whole body aware and alert. All the familiar things she had experienced as Jung Eunbi with Choi Yuna, once upon a time. The illusion was terrifyingly real, and hard to break.

It made it that much more difficult to give up on the girl. It was like an addiction, and she couldn’t break it even if she wanted to. And she didn’t want to, not really. 

Even when she didn’t have the memories of Jung Eunbi, she had fallen for Yuju as herself in this life. It hadn’t taken much. The attraction had been there from day one, and only grown over time. The memories only made it that much more intense. Even when she had tried to back away, cut herself off from the attachment, part of her still clung to those feelings, unwilling to give up. It was a lost cause, she could now admit to herself. Yuju was the one emotional hurdle in her life she couldn’t clear, and she was stuck with it whether she liked it or not.

“I’ll bring you back, whatever it takes.” 

Eunha promised, half to herself. Yuju had burrowed deep within herself, and she could barely sense the shaman’s presence even though her body was right here with her. That didn’t feel right, and Eunha wasn’t going to let Yuju run away like this. Yuna never ran, never gave up. Eunha believed that Yuju could live up to the same standards.

They’re not the same person, Eunha.

She pushed that intrusive thought away. If Yuju was afraid, then she would be there by her side to coax her out. To let her know that she wasn’t alone, that someone would be there to bear her hurts with her. That she would be loved, absolutely and unconditionally, and never be left behind no matter what. Unlike what a certain someone did.

Let me love you. I would never hurt you. Eunha closed her eyes, resting her forehead against Yuju’s hand. It was cool, unlike the usual burning warmth Yuju radiated. That frightened her more than a little. Yuju felt so far away, as if she could just slip through her fingers if she weren’t paying attention. She exhaled slowly after a moment, moving her lips to Yuju’s open palm and kissing it almost reverently as she gazed into the sleeping girl’s face.

Won’t you let me in?

Yerin woke up in cold sweat, fragments of a barely remembered dream slipping out of conscious memory even as she shook off the foggy haze of sleep, rubbing at her face with her hands.

She had not been sleeping well ever since the day Yuju had gone silent on her. The smallest noise would jerk her out of slumber, her instincts on hair trigger, and when she was finally able to fall into a deeper sleep, nightmares stalked her even there. 

The nightmares were not new or even recent. She never used to sleep very soundly in any case, a situation that changed somewhat after she started sharing a bed with Yuju. Even then, the nightmares only really stopped after she bonded with Yuju, the shaman’s loving protection extended over her even when they were both asleep. 

Yerin had never felt the absence so keenly until it was no longer there. They were still connected, vaguely, but her puppy was distant and unavailable. As much as she had promised to always be there for Yuju, so that they would never be truly separated with their Bond, she had not realized how much she needed that companionship herself until now. 

Without Yuju chasing her nightmares away, Yerin was forced to relive some of her worst memories, night after night. It was not helped along by the cold, dark cell that served as her room, and indeed, the surroundings exacerbated her condition. 

In her dreams, her hands were stained with the blood of her best friend, her guilty hands holding the bloody knife still hot with her heart’s blood. She could never truly forget the look of betrayal in Joy’s eyes before the mage collapsed into her arms. 

I murdered my best friend. There were no two ways around it. The colder side of herself justified it as self defence, because Joy had gone rogue and slaughtered the mercenaries sent to bring her back. Except her, because they were friends. And Yerin had repaid that trust with betrayal.

Yerin knew she was not a good person. She couldn’t be, not with the things she had to do, growing up the way she did. She knew more ways to cause death than she did ways to style her hair, and she was very good with disguises as part of her training. She had broken the heads of rival kids and fought dogs for scraps as a street urchin scrabbling for survival on the streets of Incheon. Tristar had changed her fate when she was picked up off the streets, nameless and desperate, giving her purpose and a place to belong. 

Her relationship with the megacorp was complex at best, and abusive at worst. She had come from nothing, and was suddenly given a place to live and exist as more than just mere street rabble. True, she had to earn her place, fight her way up to be given a chance to enter the elite. But there was a chance to move up, rather than merely fighting to see the next sunrise, with no guarantee of a future or even hope. 

Tristar had given her everything, shaped her, made her the woman she is today. Everything she knew and was capable of was given to her by the company that eventually turned around and discarded her when she was no longer of any use. Was she bitter? More than a little. She had dedicated her entire existence to being useful enough, but in the end, she was still just a disposable asset. Thrown away, left to die, stained with the blood of betrayal.

She had stolen and murdered and waded through the worst of humanity for the company, only to be abandoned when the higher ups deemed her no longer worthy of use. Like a broken toy, unworthy of salvage. She should have known better than to expect loyalty from the company, given everything she had learned from them, but a part of her still hoped that maybe she would be useful enough to stay relevant, to still have a place to belong to.

If Yuju had not come for her that day, she would have bled out in that back alley, her body left for the dogs and mutant creatures that roamed the edges of the irradiated zones. Her moment of kindness, the whim that had led her to bring Yuju out of the wilds, it was that investment that eventually saved her in the end.

Yerin was not usually kind with regards to herself. She knew exactly what she was, and selfish was the least of her flaws. For whatever reason, Yuju seemed to forgive her for those flaws, choosing to stay by her even when she had just been interested in the shaman on a whim. Yerin couldn’t quite explain it herself, but she had felt a certain kinship when she locked eyes with Yuju the first time, seeing in those clear orbs an echo of something that resonated with her.

Someone like me. But Yuju had been nothing like her, was she? The shaman was almost recklessly kind to others, to the point of endangering herself. There was something pure in her determination, a kind of sincerity that touched the hearts of even the coldest folk. Like Yerin herself, who found herself falling into the irresistible trap of Yuju’s warmth. 

Yuju was nothing like her, but Yuju had chosen her still, even over Eunha, who, if Yerin was honest with herself, was probably a better person overall and might even be a better choice for Yuju as a partner. That didn’t mean she would give Yuju up to Eunha, even if she did think the other mage was a better option. Yerin was no saint herself, and strongly protective of what was hers. And Yuju was hers now, even as she too belonged to the shaman in both body and soul. 

Yerin never forgot what she came back here for, subjecting herself to chains in an attempt to squirrel into the secrets hidden away deep within the research labs, because she had a feeling that what was happening to Yuju was something that only Tristar, with their advanced research into magic, was capable of resolving. It was a combination of instinct and cold, hard knowledge that drove her back here, amidst the circumstances that forced her hand.

But if she were to dig even deeper, could she really discount the fact that she had been almost relieved to come back to a familiar place? Heechul had not been entirely wrong when he said that this was where she belonged. They had made her, and she had been a weapon without a purpose, for all that she enjoyed the freedom she had by Yuju’s side. She loved her puppy and would never exchange it for anything, but a part of her always wanted to exercise the skills she had been taught. It gave her a sense of worth, twisted as it might seem. She knew exactly who she was and what she was capable of, and there was a sick satisfaction in doing what she knew best.

Yerin knew she was messed up in more ways than one, and the longer she stayed here like this, the worse it would become. The brainwashing was more than just a series of programmed suggestions implanted in her head, it was the sense of loyalty and purpose deliberately bred into the operatives, that kept them attached to their place in the company and willing to kill and die for their superiors. Yerin saw through the lie intellectually, but her lizard brain often gave her conflicting signals in this respect. She knew it was wrong, but here she was, subconsciously seeking approval when she didn’t actually need or even want it. It haunted her constantly, and she often felt like she was slipping back into the dark, without Yuju’s voice to accompany her.

The fear was always there. That she would go too far, turn against her friends again, lose herself and never be able to come back. They knew her too well, knew what triggers she had, and even if she was also aware of those same weaknesses, she couldn’t help but respond when prodded, like a trained dog begging for treats. She loathed that side of herself, but it was something beaten into her from childhood, so deeply ingrained that it was now essentially a part of her, and she couldn’t shake it off even if she wanted to.

She couldn’t stay here. She had to get out, but she was so close. Hiding her internal distress came as second nature, and she followed orders to a tee, subsuming her true personality under a mask of obedience. Training the Epsilon recruits even gave her a erse sense of control and self satisfaction, and she had to constantly remind herself of her true purpose, hidden away deep within. She knew eyes were on her, and she couldn’t afford to slip up, but the longer she wore the mask, the more the mask took over. It was insidious in its advance, and it terrified her.

She didn’t want to lose herself, but without the comforting sense of Yuju’s presence, it was so easy to lose sight of things. Old loyalties from her upbringing, her training normalizing the entire process until it felt like she had never left. Yerin was standing on the edge of an abyss, and the abyss was staring right into her, ready to swallow her whole.

Just a little while more. Get in, take what I need, then get out.

This much Yerin could promise herself, fingers digging deep into her arm as she wrapped them around her body, shuddering in the darkness. Again and again she reached out, calling for Yuju, but only silence greeted her. Despair was a familiar companion in the dark, and more so in this loneliness, though her tears did not fall. She would give them nothing, not her weakness, or her vulnerability. She had given them enough over the years. No more.

Tristar had given her a name and a purpose, made her and shaped her into who was today. But she was not their toy. She could still choose, and her choice was not them. 

She was Jung Yerin, and she would pick her own path. They had no hold over her. Not now, not ever. Her heart was far away and hidden, held within her currently absent puppy. Yerin had little faith in gods or man, but she trusted Yuju to keep it safe. She might have been raised a slave, but she could choose her own master.

And by that measure, she could be free. A small comfort, but Yerin had so few to choose from right now. She would take what she could get.

I will not be held. An old, familiar mantra. A silent determination, driving her forward, recklessly, towards salvation or oblivion, she could not know. 

But she would advance anyway, because that was the only way. No regrets, no hesitation. Only action. It was what she did best. She would not betray herself, not now.

This was who she was. This was what she chose.

And nothing was going to stop her from reaching her goal.

It was easier to just keep herself busy, because it kept her from thinking too much.

Sowon mused to herself as she waited in line, dressed more soberly and less like the warrior she was, since she was at a bank and didn’t want to be mistaken for an attempted robber, even if she had never participated in such and was unlikely to do so in the near future.

The last couple of days had seen the ex-soldier mostly relegated to caring for the still shellshocked Umji, occasionally taking some time out in between to go patrol the area where SinB and company were currently located. It was usually in the quieter moments where she was able to reflect on how badly she had failed her team again, resulting in the current split where everyone was all over the place and nothing was going right at all.

Logically, most of it wasn’t actually her fault, but Sowon felt responsible anyway. Felt that she could have done more, done better somehow. If she had noticed certain things earlier, could she have prevented Yerin from turning back to Tristar? Found a better way to deal with Yuju’s situation? Not alienate both SinB and Eunha at the same time? 

And poor Umji wouldn’t have had to suffer the trauma of shooting a friend. The hacker had mostly pulled herself together after the first couple of days, at least on the surface, but Sowon knew her baby well and was well aware that Umji was just trying to reassure her and not make her worry. But Umji was not okay, and Sowon wound up holding the younger girl until she fell asleep most nights now. It was the least she could do, after messing up this badly.

At least Umji seemed to have arrived at the same general conclusion as her, which was to bury herself in enough activity to keep from wallowing. This was why Sowon was standing in line to access a safety deposit box at the bank, shockingly mundane yet making perfect sense. The deposit box would be secure and relatively anonymous, as long as one had the key and necessary information to gain access to it. 

Sowon might not be able to do much about Yuju’s situation now, but at least things were relatively stable over with the trio as Yuju was still unconscious. And more importantly, still alive, which comforted Sowon to a great degree. She was more than a little relieved that she hadn’t managed to get Yuju killed, even if that had been in the plan for the worst case scenario. 

And it was the right time to get her off the streets anyway. In the last few days, Sowon had sensed an uptick in CorpSec activity from Tristar, armed patrols sweeping the streets more regularly, and from Umji’s monitoring of their communications, it seemed that they were hunting for signs of a ‘rogue mage’. Even if Yuju could mow them down with the efficiency of a harvester in a wheatfield, Tristar had the numbers and enough specialized anti-mage equipment that it wouldn’t take long for them to pinpoint her location and do a repeat performance of what she and Umji pulled off the other night. Except of course, they would have taken her, dead or alive, as a specimen for research. True blood mages were hard to come by.

In the meantime, Umji had taken steps to make sure Tristar couldn’t track Yuju through the citywide surveillance cameras, either erasing or replacing footage with loops to hide her passage. Her guilt drove her to be very thorough, and short of them keeping remote backups of every camera in town, there was no way to track Yuju down or even identify her via existing surveillance footage. 

Anonymity was Yuju’s best defence now. The shaman needed time to heal in safety, and taking her off the streets kept her safe from the forces that would target her. Sowon might regret the circumstances that drove her to do what she did to Yuju, but at least the end result was that the shaman was safe for now. Or as safe as she could be, stuck in yet another coma. 

Sowon was still in communication with Dr. Lee for updates on Yuju’s condition, and the doctor couldn’t quite explain why the shaman still hadn’t woken up. The actual physical damage, while terrible enough when she had been rushed in, was not actually bad enough to put her into an extended coma like this. Sowon had consulted with Umji about the chemicals she placed within the bullet, and the hacker had obediently reported the exact mix for the doctor’s scrutiny. Even with the projected aftereffects from that, it shouldn’t have lingered very long in Yuju’s system, so the shaman’s current condition was a medical mystery.

From the little Sowon managed to glean from SinB during their stilted communications -- which still hurt, because SinB was clearly still upset and uncomfortable -- it seemed that Eunha was keeping Yuju stable magically as well, and was trying to reach her on the Astral plane. It made slightly more sense if Yuju’s coma had to do with her other condition, though none of them were experts in that field. The only magical healer they knew and trusted was Yuju herself, and Sowon wasn’t going to risk going to any other practitioners in the city without knowing of their loyalties. There was no telling what someone else could do to her while Yuju lay vulnerable like this.

Eunha. Sowon felt apologetic to the other girl, wanted to explain herself, but SinB had warned her off, saying that Eunha already knew that she was involved with Yuju’s shooting. She doesn’t want to see you right now, was SinB’s exact words. That stung a little. Eunha was Sowon’s last true connection to her past from fifty years ago, the only other person who remembered her as Kim Sojung, and Sowon didn’t want to lose her as a friend. She knew Eunha had every right to be upset with her, and was willing to give her space for the time being, but if there was a chance to make things right, she would always try. 

As for the other person who knew her… Sowon’s face grew grim. Bogeun’s actions since her awakening had moved him from ‘friend’ to ‘sometimes ally’. She couldn’t bring herself to trust the man fully after realizing how he had manipulated her into the whole situation with the imugi. And how much had he done behind her back during the time she had been in a magical sleep? Sowon couldn’t know. His vendetta with the imugi had changed him over the decades, and he wasn’t the same man she once knew. Lesser people have changed in a shorter period of time under easier circumstances. Bogeun was no saint either, and for old time’s sake, Sowon was willing to ignore any old grievances as long as he stayed out of her life and the lives of those she cared for.

Investigating the clues Yerin left behind was at least more productive than dwelling on the things she couldn’t change for now. The contents of the safety deposit box safely retrieved, Sowon slipped away into the streets, changing back to her usual gear at a temporary safehouse before slowly making her way back to their current hideout where Umji waited for her.

Sowon’s feelings about Yerin’s apparent betrayal were complicated. On one hand, she had fewer ties with Yerin in this lifetime than she did fifty years ago, but the memory of that past Yerin kept her from writing off the Yerin in this lifetime immediately. Yerin’s feelings for Yuju couldn’t be written off as an act, because there was no way a person could fake that depth of emotion towards another person for such an extended period of time, and based on that alone, Sowon was willing to give Yerin a chance to come back. Though, if Yerin found out that she had gotten Yuju shot, the results were likely to be...messy.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place. Sowon shook her head ruefully. Both Eunha and Yerin would have her head for what she had done to Yuju, even if her intentions were good to begin with. She could give no excuse for her actions, though at the very least, Yuju was still alive. That had to count for something, right?

But first, the files Hayoung left behind would be an interesting diversion while they waited for things to sort themselves out. Sowon was at least a little curious about this secret project Tristar was up to, even though experience indicated that the more secrets you knew, the more danger you were in. A wise runner learned everything they could, but the best way to stay alive was usually to pretend you didn’t know anything beyond the immediacy of what you had to do. It was a way to protect the interests of the employer, and only the dead told no secrets.

Umji greeted her with a wan smile when Sowon finally returned, and the leader rubbed her head affectionately before handing over the chip containing the information Hayoung had gone to such lengths to hide before her death. It was unfortunate they could not contact Yerin now, since it seemed that Yerin had been close friends with this person. If anyone deserved to see all this, it was Yerin, but Tristar had her now, and they couldn’t reach her without exposing all of them to more danger.

The files were a chaotic mess of information neatly classified into several folders. Shipping manifests with suspiciously coded contents (what exactly were mana units anyway?), along with the hacked correspondence that Hayoung had mentioned in her video. The callous indifference to human life was implicit between those lines, though they rarely came right out to discuss it.

Most of it seemed to be useless filler, and Sowon left Umji to filter through the chaff until they could find something of importance. In the meantime, she slipped off to check on the trio, but mostly on SinB, since Eunha never stepped out and Yuju was obviously still out of commission. She didn’t approach the gunslinger, content to watch from afar, just to see that she was well and safe. It was a habit she had developed during this short separation, and Sowon didn’t feel quite at ease until she saw with her own eyes that SinB was alright every day.

When Sowon finally returned for the day, she found Umji waiting for her with a serious expression on her face. The young hacker looked worried, pulling her over the moment she stepped in to look at what she had found.

“I think you need to see this.”

Sowon scanned the medical report (or at least it looked like one) Umji pulled up on the screen for her, confused. Umji bit her lip, then pulled up a different report, something Sowon was a little more familiar with.

“This one’s yours. I know there are differences in the report coverage because this one’s from your most recent health checkup, but there are enough overlaps for it to be the same.” Umji explained nervously. Sowon’s eyes flicked to the first report, which now looked less like a medical chart after being compared to the real thing, and more like a lab report.

Subject Zero Live Template

The thought made a chill run down her spine. What was this Subject Zero and what did it have to do Tristar’s secret project? An unsettling suspicion began to grow in her, and Umji hesitantly opened yet another file for her perusal.

“It was attached to this comms…” Umji trailed off then, waiting for Sowon to read through it.

Live Data Collection

Re: update of subject zero charts

Active data will be provided as per updated attached template for monitoring. Expect further progress on conversion research with inclusion of live combat data. 

Regret that your request for direct access to Subject Zero is still denied. Kindly deliver progress status on PROJECT ARIA as per contract terms before further negotiation.

The rest was politely incomprehensible drivel. It was unsigned, but the amount of information implied was staggering. Umji swallowed nervously, placing one hand carefully on Sowon’s clenched fists.

“It probably doesn’t mean anything...I could be wrong?” 

Sowon closed her eyes, trying to process the depth of what she had just learned. Umji was right the first time, of course. The girl wouldn’t have shown this to her at all if she didn’t have good reason to suspect the link. Her baby girl was intimately familiar with her physical data, and if the girl said that they were the same set of basic stats, then they were. 

The date on that comms was from almost six, seven years ago. The project had clearly been in progress for much longer than that. If she were truly Subject Zero, than her physical data had clearly been stolen and uploaded for unknown purposes for a very long time now.

Sowon had been on the move throughout the years since waking up, rarely staying long in one place for more than a year or two at a time. The street doctors she visited had good reputation in the shadows, and were unlikely to sell her data to Tristar for no good reason, and besides, how were they even supposed to extract live combat data from her in the first place?

There was only one way that could have been done. Sowon ground her teeth together, one hand flying up to her electronic eye, tearing off the eyepatch that covered it. Her shoulders shook with barely suppressed fury at the signs of betrayal writ large within the lines.

How dare you, Bogeun. I trusted you.

There could be no going back from this. Sowon sprang to her feet, a cold fury burning in her one biological eye. There was only so much she could ignore.

Bogeun had sold her out in more ways than one. She had every reason to find out why.

And then there would be hell to pay.